Conan the Rebel

by Poul Anderson

  'Why, I think already I have learned what may suffice,' she said.

  He peered at her through the gloom. 'Eh?'

  She laughed, a clear and malicious sound. 'Conan may love his little Bêlit, but he has been parted from her for days, and he is plainly bull-virile. Did you not see how he ogled Daris? It may take a while, but I judge he is corruptible through this, if by no different means. And once he is corrupted, in the priggish eyes of Mitra...s-s-s-s... once he is enslaved to me, ah, then we have him, whether he recognizes it or not. His destiny will be lost, his soul rudderless – and yet, while he lives, none else can have the honour of being the god's warrior. For is it not written that 'The pledges of Mitra... s-s-s-s... are for eternity'? You can keep him alive a very long while, Tothapis.' Sharp fingernails combed flowing tresses. 'And I – I expect to enjoy myself unusually much.'

  IX

  A Warrior's Welcome

  That evening a full moon rose out of the Styx. It would not be visible from Conan's balcony for some while, but he saw how the sky lightened to a deep purple over the battlemented walls across the courtyard. Stars were coming forth. The weather had turned milder, the night was balmy.

  He picked out the North Star, by which he could steer home to his own people if he were free. Not that he would leave Bêlit, but she had said that someday she would like to visit the land that had bred him. He looked upward and found Jupiter, a silvery-golden brilliance. The same planet shone down on her where she waited at sea. Did she watch it at this moment, held wakeful by her yearning and fears for him?

  Pain stabbed afresh. He drew a quick breath. It turned into an oath. He spun on his heel and stalked back inside. Hours of vigorous exercise every day had kept him fit, while somewhat assuaging his boredom. Well, he would do an extra round now, in hopes that that would enable him to sleep.

  Candles glowed throughout the main room. He ignored its richness, peeled off his tunic, dropped the garment on the floor and, attired in nothing save a loincloth, started a set of deep knee bends.

  A click and rattle sounded through the stillness. Conan crouched in immediate readiness for action. His heart galloped. That had been a key in the lock securing the outer door.

  Its iron-bound massiveness swung wide. An armoured soldier stepped warily back, cocked crossbow aimed at the barbarian. Listening through a slightly opened trap, Conan had already ascertained that the night watch on this floor consisted of a single such turnkey. For an instant, hope flared in him. If he moved fast

  enough and had rare good luck, he might elude the shaft and get his hands on the Stygian!

  Even then he knew how desperate any such attempt would be against a fully alert bowman. He checked the impulse entirely when a second figure came in sight and passed through the entrance – a woman.

  She addressed the guard, who genuflected without shifting his aim, then quickly shut, bolted, and relocked the door behind her. Conan stood motionless, though the blood coursed hot in his veins and every sense was heightened. He heard cat-soft footfalls as she crossed the carpet, he caught a musky breath of perfume, his gaze ranged up and down and around her. Never had he seen a woman more beautiful, and few to match this one. Well-nigh transparent, her gown floated and sheened above a form whose slenderness somehow made it all the more voluptuous. Her face was a perfection of the Stygian racial type. Amber skin and ebon hair were lustrous in the candlelight.

  She flowed to a halt six or seven feet from him, gave him a slow smile full of promise, and raised her left palm as if to warn him against violence. He no longer kept any such intention. Besides an ingrained reluctance to harm a female, he had a realization that, as things were, it would be worse than useless – whereas if he bided his time, he might get answers to the riddles that encompassed him.

  He wet his lips. 'Do – do you speak Shemitish?' he asked, feeling how inane that must sound.

  She brought her right hand to a tiny mirror suspended beneath her throat. Conan tautened, suddenly uneasy. Her musical voice spoke, her left fingers gestured.

  A beam of light sprang from the mirror to strike him in the eyes. It seemed to burn on into his brain. The whiteness filled him. It chanted in words unknown. His mind went under in a vortex of luminance and sound. Barely did he know that he stood paralysed, yet did not fall.

  After a time that was not truly time, the light blinked out, the singing ended, and he heard, 'Conan, arouse!' Awareness returned in a rush. He stumbled backward from the stranger. 'What

  witchcraft have you wrought on me?' he groaned.

  She smiled again, held her arms wide in a gesture of benediction, and said gently, 'None to harm you, Conan. Only to help. I am your friend.'

  He summoned the courage to stand fast. 'Then why did you do that thing?'

  She trilled laughter. 'What language are we speaking?'

  'Why – it's - ' Thunderstruck, Conan realized. 'Stygian!'

  She nodded. 'Yes. I know Shemitish, and many tongues more, but I felt you would find it helpful if you could make yourself understood in that of the people around you. My spell did nothing but teach it to you in a matter of minutes.'

  He shook his head, trying to clear out stupefaction. 'Really?' he mumbled, and ran through a number of words for a test. 'Man, woman, sword, ship, horse, battle -'

  She sighed. 'Ah, I failed to rid you of a Cimmerian accent. Well, no matter. That burr sounds manly, exciting.' She moved toward him. 'Shall we pour wine, sit down, and talk?'

  He mastered astonishment and quelled his dread of things uncanny. He actually felt enjoyment of her presence. Bêlit and, yes, the previous had a more wholesome kind of comeliness, but this exotic creature lured forth dreams he might be wise to dismiss – if he could. 'Who are you?' he demanded.

  'Nehekba, high priestess of Derketa here in Khemi,' she answered, 'and, as I said before, your friend.'

  If that was true, she would be a powerful ally. He was no worshipper of her deity, but was not repelled either, as he was by Set. The goddess of love and death had devotees throughout these parts, well beyond the borders of Stygia. Bêlit sometimes invoked her.

  Nehekba reached him and offered her hand. He took it in his great paw, then, awkwardly, bent to kiss its delicacy. Her skin was like silk. When he straightened, she gave him a smile that was at once languorous and radiant. 'I will fetch the wine,' he said thickly, and sought the carafe set on a table for his use. Several goblets stood by, since he was also offered water, beer, and milk each day. He filled two and brought them to Nehekba, who had taken a seat

  on his couch and leaned back against a cushion, legs curled trim beneath her. She took a glass and beckoned him to the same resting place. When he had joined her there, she raised the vessel and said – almost sang, 'To your happiness, Conan. May I aid you in regaining it.'

  'Thank you,' he said lamely.

  'Will you drink to me in turn – no, to us?'

  He sipped without uttering any toast and plunged ahead: 'You must know I am completely in the dark about everything. Why am I here? Why are you? What is going on?'

  'You must have learned a little from your fellow captives today,' she said. 'It was I who prevailed on Tothapis to give you those hours.'

  Indeed he had made certain discoveries, the Cimmerian thought, and was now making more. 'We talked, yes,' he said, choosing each word. 'One among us believes he knows the reason he is confined on this floor, rather than a dungeon or grave. That is young Falco, who has also received a lady visitor.'

  Nehekba nodded. Light rippled along her hair. 'Ah, yes, Senufer. She is a noblewoman serving the same cause I do, the cause of peace.'

  'And pleasure, I hear,' Conan said bluntly.

  Full lips curved again upward. 'Why not? What harm? She is a wealthy widow, thus free to indulge herself if she stays reasonably discreet. Besides, we do wish to maintain contact with Falco. The time may come when his connections in Ophir prove invaluable to us. A man who visited him regularly might fall under suspicion of conspiracy, but a woman
obviously having an affair need fear nothing except that a new guardsman may require a fresh bribe.'

  'What about Heterka?' Conan snapped.

  Nehekba raised her brows. 'Who?'

  The wine glass shook a little in Conan's fingers. 'It is a horrible story.'

  'I know nothing of it – well, I do know another noblewoman of that name, who dabbles in leech-craft but is said to have certain nasty inclinations. We Stygians are human, dear. Therefore we number among us the good, the bad, and the indifferent, and our

  affairs are as tangled as any elsewhere in the world.'

  Conan decided not to pursue the matter. Instead, he cried low, 'Enough! I pray you, tell me how I come to be here, and what you mean to do.'

  'You must understand, I am no confidante of Tothapis,' she said in a tone of sympathy. 'He is a mighty wizard as well as a priest, the present head of that society of sorcerers called the Black Ring. Hence I likewise remain in the dark about much of what happened, though I cherish hopes of finding it out. Meanwhile, let me tell you what I can.

  'Tales have been reaching Stygia of a rover from the far North, a peerless warrior, at large in these south-lands. Turned pirate, you could become a significant danger to us in a wartime that seems all too likely. Tothapis may well have used his arts to trap you for no other reason than that, though perhaps his plans go deeper. I must agree it would be wrong to let you harry my people. I am not angry at you; piracy is reckoned an honourable trade among you barbarians, no? But I do aim to teach you better, and bring forth a chivalry I am certain is innate in you.

  'The factions favouring peace and war are not at sword's point. It is a matter of disputation and politicking, which does not prevent persons of opposed views on that issue from cooperating otherwise. As a member of the hierarchy, I heard about you, and persuaded Tothapis to order you detained here. He himself supports the expansion of Imperial Stygia, but he is not bloodthirsty and it suffices him to have rendered you harmless. In due course, after getting to know you well, Conan, I believe I can convince him that you will honour a parole to wreak no further harm on Stygians. Then he can let you go free.'

  'How long might this take?' the Cimmerian asked.

  'A year or two, perhaps.' Nehekba gave him a lingering look. 'It depends on how quickly and closely acquainted we become, you and I,' she purred.

  He clenched a fist. 'What do you want of me?'

  'It may be that you can vitally serve the cause of peace,' she said. 'Quite possibly a magical intimation of this was what made Tothapis alarmed enough to act against you. If that is so, then I

  think I can gradually lull his fears. Not that I would ever employ you or anyone in treason. It is only that I sincerely believe the good of Stygia, too, lies in peace. What might you be willing to do in aid -for generous pay, of course? Well, that remains to be seen; but I can imagine you, for instance, as a swift courier whom no bandit or secret agent can stop. Messages to the governments of such countries as Ophir, Argos, Nemedia, Koth, Corinthia, even bedevilled Aquilonia, may encourage them to unite in exerting diplomatic and trade pressure on King Mentuphera. to alter his plans. It helps that his heir, Crown Prince Ctesphon, does not share his ambitions.'

  Conan stroked his chin. 'Hmm, these matters get too entwined for my stiff brain to follow,' he said. 'Nevertheless – Wait. To judge from what Falco told me, war against Ophir will begin soon, well before you could talk me out of my cage.'

  Nehekba shook her diademed head. 'No, nothing can be done while Taia is in rebellion,' she reminded him. 'I was instrumental in having the chiefs daughter brought here. Perhaps, after she and I have talked, she will agree to serve as a go-between, negotiating an end to both revolt and injustice. An accomplishment like that would vastly strengthen the hand of the peace party.' 'You leave Jehanan's presence unexplained,' he snapped. 'Jehanan?' she responded innocently. 'Who is that?' Before he could speak, she set down her goblet and leaned close to him. 'We will get chances aplenty to discuss politics,' she breathed. 'Need we carry it on this evening?' 'What do you mean?' he asked hoarsely. Her lashes fluttered. 'Best I use the same excuse as Senufer to keep seeing you. It will be no play-acting, either. By the gods, Conan, but you are a man!'

  Desire blazed high in him, unmistakable to her knowing eyes, She half-closed them, half-parted her lips and swayed toward his opened arms. Their mouths came together. Bêlit herself had never given him a more passionate kiss. Their hands roved.

  Conan's reached her neck. Muscles surged as he took hold of the chain that held the mirror and snapped its silver links. He threw

  he amulet to the far end of the room.

  Nehekba screamed. He clapped a palm over her face. She raked nails along his cheek. His left hand caught that wrist. Holding fast, lie moved to grab the other arm as well. A shin of his, laid across her thighs, pinned her to the couch. Though she writhed and panted, she was helpless against his bearlike strength.

  'Slack off,' he told her. 'Else I'll choke you unconscious. I can do that without any real damage, but would rather not.'

  The glorious eyes scorched hatred at him. Perforce, she obeyed. Conan nodded grimly. With the trap in the door closed, her yell had not been heard by the guard. The risk he had taken was that some kind of watch was being kept on him, as he suspected had been the case earlier this day. But he had guessed that she would not want her amours observed, and would have supposed her talisman was ample protection if her wiles failed.

  Besides, she would scarcely have expected any such ignominy.

  Conan maintained a grip on her wrists while, with his free hand, he ripped the gown from her. 'Have no fears,' he said. 'I have never taken a woman against her will. Anyway, that would hardly have been needful, would it? I just mean to secure you.'

  'Are you mad?' she moaned.

  He shook his black-mane head. 'No, nor as stupid as you took for given. You civilized people think that because we barbarians have no cities or books we must be a lot of dumb animals. Hell, we need our wits more than you do!'

  'But – but I am your friend, Conan,' she pleaded, 'I would be your lover if you let me, yes, even now.'

  He stood, made her rise, and forced her to face away from him. Using the torn silks, he tied her arms behind her. 'No, my guess is that you are friend to that Tothapis fellow,' he said. 'I also believe you are sweet Senufer and vile Heterka. It doesn't make sense that this gaol should simply happen to be crawling with lust-crazed brunettes, or that the lord of the Black Ring would not know you were plotting against him and take measures. In any case, I trust no witch.'

  'You are wrong – you are wrong.' She wept.

  'Crocodile tears, are they called?' he retorted, unmoved. 'Well,

  supposing you are innocent, which I cannot do for half a heartbeat you did admit I would be here for a matter of years before I might maybe go free. Never! I am bound back to my own woman, tonight, or else I shall die along the way.' He laid her down on the floor and kept a knee on her thighs, while he fastened her ankles. 'Furthermore,' he added, 'you slipped me fine words about peace, but Bêlit and her brother still have revenge to take on Stygia, Therefore I do myself.'

  Having rendered her immobile, he rose, and for a moment regarded her nearly nude body. A sigh gusted from him. 'What a waste,' he said. 'How tempted I was to have my sport with you first. But you are a witch. I dared not risk you somehow binding my spirit here, away from Bêlit.'

  He stooped and effortlessly picked her up. 'Call the watchman to let you out,' he instructed. 'After I am done with him, I will leave you here. The change of guard will find you in the morning.'

  'No, you blind beast!' she flared.

  Conan gave her a terrible stare. 'If you do not obey,' he said, 'I will break you in twain, for what you did to Jehanan.'

  She cowered in his arms. 'I will – I will.'

  He nodded and stalked to the door. Actually, he had lied, or so he thought. He doubted he could bring himself to such a deed against a woman, no matter how evil she might be; and
he lacked absolute proof of Nehekba's iniquity. However, the rage that had not left him gave the threat convincing force.

  At the door, he elbowed the panel open and brought Nehekba's head close to it. 'Sound calm,' he whispered in her ear.

  She gave a convulsive nod, and cried with a coolness which bespoke her powers of deceit: 'O soldier my business is done. Come unlock, that I may go home.'

  Immediately Conan laid her down and used two remaining scraps of cloth to gag her. She found time to hiss vindictively, 'You have made your death certain, barbarian. If you are lucky, it will be swift. If I am lucky, it will take many days.'

  He disregarded her, except for the reflection that in her fury she had revealed her true colours. Rising, he snatched from a shelf a brass candlestick in the form of three serpents. Bolt slid outward, the door swung wide, the turnkey stepped back, bringing his crossbow to shoulder.

  He was, though, less wary than erstwhile, thanks to Nehekba. Conan sprang from behind the jamb and hurled his metal. It smote before the bow could twang. The shaft skittered harmlessly town the hall. Conan was already upon the Stygian. His hands flew the man's throat, took hold, contracted. He felt the larynx snap between his fingers. Blood gushed from the soldier's mouth. He loll and flopped. Conan drew his sword and ended his pain.

  Ferally quick, the Cimmerian returned to his chambers. A tunic would be less conspicuous than a loincloth if he got as far as the street. He donned the one he had dropped and added a cowled mantle. Having strapped on sandals as well, he went back out. Nehekba gave him so poisonous a glare that he wondered if he should kill her. But no, he could not bring himself to that, nor did lie want any part of the talisman he had torn from her. Best would be if he could get rid of the thing, but he was unsure how and dared not experiment.

  He took the Stygian's sword belt and put it on. A key was still in the door, attached to a ring from which several more hung. Conan plucked them free and started down the corridor. He would not leave behind him the friends he had made this day.