Conan the Rogue

by John Maddox Roberts

  Conan sat at a table where a newly arrived lot of caravaneers made way for him. He laid in a substantial breakfast, not because he thought it might be his last, but because he was hungry and because he knew that soon he might have to flee the town, and he had no idea of when he would eat again. When his appetite was satisfied, he beckoned a serving boy to his side.

  'What would you, master?' asked the boy, eyeing the Cimmerian's stalwart frame and gleaming armament with envy. Conan gave him directions to the house where Casperus was staying.

  'Tell the fat man,' Conan instructed, 'or the ill-favoured lout with two swords, these words: 'Conan of Cimmeria has what you want. Meet him before the great theatre on the Square at noon and he will lead you to it. If you do not come as instructed, our agreement is at an end.' Now, lad, repeat that to me.' The boy repeated it accurately, twice. 'Good,' Conan approved, tossing him a coin. 'Be off with you.'

  The boy left upon his errand, and Conan passed some time trading stories with the caravaneers. He was most interested to learn of the doings in the other areas of Aquilonia, where the barons were defying the king.

  He went to his room and found his belongings as he had left them. These he packed; then he went to the adjoining room, where Brita had stayed. There was no trace that said she had ever

  been there.

  'I wonder,' he said to himself, 'how the wench managed to

  change the colour of her eyes.'

  Carrying the saddlebags, he descended the stairs and went to the stable, where he saddled his horse and tied the bags behind the cantle. He rolled up his cloak and tied it there as well. 'Do you ride out today, sir?' asked the stableman. 'Not just yet,' Conan said. 'But soon. I want the horse to remain saddled thus, and tethered here, just inside the doorway. Will you see to that?' He handed the man a coin.

  'Oh, aye, sir. You are not the first to stay here who wished to be ready to leave at a second's notice. The lady will not be going

  with you?'

  'No, she will not. Has the horse had water and grain?'

  'Aye, early this morning.'

  'Good. Give it no more.' A foundered horse would be of no

  use to a fleeing man.

  He left the stable and stood in the courtyard, studying the sun. It was almost noon. He walked out into the street and began to walk toward the Square. The street was deserted, but many eyes observed him from behind shutters. People stood on balconies and on rooftops, and all watched the Cimmerian silently. He walked with easy confidence, his only sound the occasional clicking of a massive bracelet against sword or dagger hilt. He walked

  slowly, for he had no wish to arrive betimes and have to hang about the Square, where he could not remain unseen for long.

  When he rounded the corner of the theatre, he did not proceed into the Square but, rather, climbed its steps and stood within the gloomy shade of its portico, watching the events. The far end of the square, where the Reeve had his headquarters, was already swarming with men. Fighting had not yet commenced, but men stood about in groups of varying size, waving their weapons and shouting.

  Ermak's men massed in a compact formation before the headquarters of Bombas. The Reeve must have bribed them to support him, Conan thought. Then he espied Casperus and Gilmay as they came into the Square from a side alley. They looked to be apprehensive and indignant, but the fat man radiated greed that could be felt even at a distance. Soon they were before the theatre, looking about, but they did not glance up the steps to where the Cimmerian stood.

  People crowded the rooftops of the buildings ringing the Square; no one was able to resist the prospect of such a spectacle. They would regret their eagerness to see blood flow, Conan thought, should those buildings be set afire. Then he saw two people come across the Square from the direction of the Pit. One was a black-haired woman, the other a small man who wore luridly coloured clothing. Conan could almost smell the lilacs. Gilmay was first to catch sight of them.

  'You two!' he cried. 'How came you here?'

  'We came at the Cimmerian's invitation,' said Altaira with a withering curl of her scarlet lip. 'As, I have no doubt, did the two of you.'

  'Ah-h,' said Casperus, smiling. 'Now we are all together again, except for our poor dear Asdras, who, as I am given to understand, has escaped the sufferings of this transitory life for the undoubted pleasures of the life to come.'

  'He will soon have much company in that life.' said Conan descending the stair. They all turned at the sound of his voice.

  'Ah, what a clever fellow you are, sir,' said Casperus. 'Now you expect us to bid against each other for the idol, not so?'

  'No,' Conan said. 'I have come to lead you to it, as I agreed. How you decide who is to have possession is your affair.'

  'Then lead on, sir, lead on!' said Casperus, chuckling. Conan began to walk toward the temple and they followed. At the far end of the Square, the screaming climbed to a crescendo; then sounds of clashing steel filled the air.

  'The rogues of this town do seem bent upon mutual massacre,' said Casperus with a sigh. 'It is so sad. How we shall miss

  them all.'

  They paused before the steps of the temple. 'I will warn you,' Conan said, 'that there is great magic loose in this place. Casperus, if you have any of the sorcerous skills you claim, you may

  need them.'

  The fat man looked concerned. 'Why? What has happened?'

  'The priest in here thinks that he is a wizard as well. When I hid the scorpion here, his spells grew in power.'

  'What are you talking about?' asked Altaira. 'I told you that the image has no sorcerous power!'

  'No power?' said Casperus, chuckling. 'My dear lady, how

  wrong you are!'

  As they entered, their ears were assailed by the hideous, discordant chanting of inhuman voices. They walked gingerly toward the nave, from which poured a frightful, unnatural glow.

  'Mitra preserve us!' said Casperus. 'What has happened here?' They gazed upon the fearful spectacle within. Around the colossus, the remaining acolytes chanted and howled, but they were no longer even remotely human. They were either scaly or hairy, and fanged, pincered, even tentacled. Some had transformed into shapes without description. The statue was no longer that of Mother Doorgah, but was half-metamorphosed into the semblance of a gigantic black scorpion with the face of a woman. Upon its back danced Oppia, now fully transformed into the form of Mother Doorgah, but she was not the beautiful, benevolent goddess of the earlier statue. This was Mother Doorgah in her aspect of Drinker of Blood and Devourer of Entrails. From the ghastly mess of human remains upon which she danced, she had done exactly that to her husband, Andolla.

  'Quickly,' Casperus urged. 'You must lead me to the place where he worked his sorcery.' His face was pale and sweaty.

  'No!' Piris insisted. 'The scorpion! Take us to the scorpion!'

  'Aye,' said Altaira. 'To the scorpion! It has nothing to do with this. It is not magical.'

  'I think we will do as Casperus says,' Conan told them. 'I do not want whatever is happening here to get loose in the city.'

  'And get loose it will, soon,' said Casperus. 'We will never get away from here alive unless I put a stop to this.'

  Quickly, Conan led them along a gallery flanking the nave and into the rooms below. Soon he found the chamber where Andolla kept his sorcerous impedimenta. Swiftly and efficiently, Casperus studied the instruments and the books that lay open.

  'The fool!' he said. 'He managed to assemble some powerful talismans, and even more powerful tomes. Only a wizard of the first rank should touch these! This is what happens when an amateur dabbles in sorcery.' With sure movements, incredibly fast for a man of such bulk, he began to rip parchments that bore strange symbols and to scatter sand paintings. With great precision, he altered geometrical patterns chalked upon the floor and tossed certain waxen effigies into a brazier, where they flared and melted.

  'There,' he said when he was done. 'That may just contain the damage. Let us go.'
r />   'We go to the cellars,' Conan said, taking a lamp from a table. 'Get lamps or candles and follow.' They did as he said and were very subdued as they walked down the steps behind him.

  All was quiet in the vaulted chambers below the temple- there was no indication of the chaos above. Conan led them to a great support pillar and began to press the keystones.

  'The big statue is directly above,' he told them 'I think it may have something to do with the way the thing reinforced Andolla's spells.'

  'I have no doubt that it did,' said Casperus. 'You talk like fools!' hissed Altaira.

  'Master,' said Gilmay, who was getting over the shock of the spectacle above. 'Why not let me kill this vicious strumpet?' He half-drew one of his swords.

  'No killing,' Conan warned. 'There will be no killing until I give you the scorpion, as I promised. After that,' he shrugged, 'you may kill and eat each other for all I care.'

  'My dear Altaira,' said Casperus, 'you have only greed, whereas I have greed and scholarship. You refer to the scorpion of white gold, do you not? I, too, know of that one. Did you think that was the one we had?' 'Is it not?' she said, paling.

  'I fear not. That was a relic of a far later age. Once there was civil war in Stygia, and a contestant for the throne thought to have the copy made and substituted for the original, thinking that it would give him power. He used white gold because only that metal could duplicate the weight of the original. Many legends grew around it later, due to of its unique value. You must have heard one of them. I fear that the copy was melted down centuries ago. What our resourceful friend has secreted within this pedestal

  is the true idol.'

  'But... but...' She got no further, for now the door began to open. Their eyes shone with a combination of fear and avarice as the stone moved aside. Then the scorpion stood before them, just within the aperture.

  'It has moved,' said Conan, the words almost freezing in his throat. 'I set it on the pedestal in the centre of the chamber, and it has moved to the door.' His scalp crawled as he backed away,

  hand on hilt.

  'Ah, is she not beautiful?' said Casperus, ignoring the Cimmerian's words. 'And now she is mine again!'

  'Never yours, and not yours now!' Altaira said, drawing a dagger from within her sleeve and plunging it into the fat man's back. The huge bulk collapsed across the scorpion and she tried to push it aside. With a strangled shriek, Gilmay drew his swords and aimed a great double blow at the woman's body.

  Unthinkingly, Conan drew his own sword, and with a lightning slash, he sheared away the youth's head. Even as the corpse collapsed atop the other, Altaira withdrew her dagger and favoured Conan with an evil smile.

  'You just cannot get out of the habit of protecting me, can you, barbarian?' Catlike, she whirled and plunged her blade through Piris's throat. The little man's eyes bugged as he staggered back, hands at his throat, blood spurting between his fingers.

  The woman gasped and stared with horror at a deep gash that ran the length of her forearm. The slender dagger in Piris's hand was stained with her blood, and with a darker substance.

  'The scorpion is all yours,' Conan shouted, 'and I wish you all joy of it! Never did four people deserve each other more!' He went back up the stairs in a series of bounds that quickly brought him to the nave of the temple. The hellish noise had ceased, and the unnatural glow was gone. The light admitted by skylights illuminated a floor covered with writhing, groaning people, who seemed to be regaining their human aspect. The huge statue had collapsed to a heap of fragments. He saw Oppia lying atop the heap. If she was alive or dead, he neither knew nor cared.

  After the temple, the bright sunlight and the cheerful sounds of battle seemed wholesome indeed. He saw that the miners had arrived, and now the whole Square was thronged with shouting, struggling men. Bodies lay everywhere amidst a little of broken weapons. From the rooftops, onlookers cheered the fighters on, without discrimination.

  Conan worked his way around the periphery of the Square until he stood before the Reeve's headquarters. The steps leading up to it were ringed by a double line of Ermak's men. Conan passed behind them and went up the stair. On the third step from the top stood Ermak, directing his men. He was too busy to take notice of the Cimmerian, who passed within the headquarters.

  Just inside the door, two men were screaming at one another. Conan was not surprised to see that the two were Bombas and

  Xanthus.

  'Fool!' Xanthus screeched. 'It is all over now! Your greed

  has brought the royal forces upon us!'

  'My greed?' yelled Bombas, his face gone scarlet. 'It was your idea to skim the royal silver!'

  Julus spotted Conan and came forward. 'What are you doing here, barbarian?' The other two broke off their argument and stared at the newcomer.

  'I've come to collect the rest of my pay,' Conan said. 'What pay?' Bombas demanded. Conan pointed to Xanthus. 'The pay he promised me for cleaning up his town. I have done it, and I want my pay.' 'What do you mean?' screamed Xanthus. Conan jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the Square. 'That is my doing. By the time the royal forces arrive, they'll be able to hang any surviving rogues with a single short rope. When the noise dies down, this will be a quiet town once

  more. Pay me.'

  Xanthus's face convulsed with near-apoplexy. 'But I did not... I did not...'He was unable to finish.

  'By the way,' Conan said to Bombas, 'you will be one of those gracing that rope. I found your real account books in the fort when I led the raid there. They are in safe custody and will soon be in the king's hands. He is not much of a king, but he is enough of a sovereign to hang a thieving official.' Bombas's hand went to his throat as if he already felt the hemp.

  'So all this is your doing, eh?' said Julus, coming forward with a sword bare in his hand.

  'Aye, it is. And in a moment I am going to pay you for that beating. I am not tied up now. But first one thing: It was you who killed Delia, wasn't it?'

  The brute smiled as if at a pleasant memory. 'That I did. How did you guess? The wench threatened to spread tales about me if I did not pay her. Slaying her was so much easier.'

  Conan looked at Bombas. 'Do you know what she threatened to tell you about your henchman?'

  'Do not listen to him!' Julus barked.

  'She was going to tell you,' Conan went on, 'that it was Julus who slew your brother, using a dagger he stole from Maxio. Lisip had just expelled him for stealing, and he wanted to curry favour with you. So he killed Burdo, then went to you to say that Maxio had slain your brother, letting you know that he was just the right-hand man you needed to replace your brother. But Delia saw it, didn't she?'

  'She guessed,' Julus said. 'She kept it to herself as a trick to keep Maxio sweet. When she gave up on keeping him, she came to me with her threat.' Abruptly he whirled and thrust his sword through Bombas's belly. Quick as a thought, he had the sword back out and turned to face Conan with a grin. 'The king will be grateful to the man who slew his thieving Reeve. Do you not think so?'

  'He will not have the chance!' Conan said, hewing at the thug with even greater swiftness. Julus backed across the room, fending away blows with a confident look. Then his look was alarmed, then terrified as he knew that he would not be able to strike a blow in return. He began to bellow for help, but all sound was drowned by the racket from without.

  'This is a little different from torturing bound men, is it not?' said Conan, not allowing his words to interfere with the deadly rhythm of his blows.

  Eyes wide with horror, Julus abruptly leaped back, simultaneously hurling his sword at the Cimmerian. Conan expected the move and ducked below the hurtling steel. He felt the tick of the blade as it nicked his steel cap in passing; then he was running after the fleeing Julus. Three bounds and a lunge, and his blade spitted the man from back to front, a hands-breadth of steel standing out before the thug's breast. Conan withdrew his Made, and bright blood pulsed out of both wounds.

  'A coward a
lways dies like a coward,' Conan commented.

  He turned and walked back toward Xanthus The old man stared at the corpse of Bombas with satisfaction. Then he looked up at the approaching barbarian.

  'I—I cannot pay you just yet, Conan! I must assemble the money, but I promise you, I shall.'

  'You'll do nothing,' Conan said, 'not even live much longer. Your name is on those books as well.'

  A figure dressed in half-armour entered the doorway. It was Ermak, his blade stained as was Conan's. 'It is finished! Pick-swinging miners have broken my men and they flee!'

  Xanthus pointed at Conan. 'Ermak, kill that man! I will make you rich if you will slay him for me!'

  'Aye, I'll slay the rogue,' said Ermak. 'But not for your money, you foolish old skinflint. You're a dead man if ever there was one, with the king's men on their way, as they must be by now.'

  'I will see both of you hanged!' screeched Xanthus. Then he looked down with alarm. A hand gripped his robe. The hand belonged to Bombas, and the fat Reeve began to pull the old miser inexorably downward. 'Let go of me! Julus slew you!'

  'Because of you,' Bombas wheezed, 'my Lorinda died! Now I am going to kill you!'

  'That was your doing. Yours!' Xanthus protested.

  'Who is Lorinda?' Ermak asked.

  'A woman they both loved, long ago,' said Conan. 'There is no need for us to fight. It is all over here. We are professionals, you and I.'

  'Oh, but we must,' Ermak said grimly. 'This was the sweetest situation a warrior ever encountered. A whole town to loot without battle. And you ruined it. I do not know how you did it, but it was all your doing. From the moment you arrived, everything began to go sour. Guard yourself!' He gave the Cimmerian that much courtesy, then he attacked.

  This was not like fighting Julus. Conan found himself defending his life with desperation. Ermak was strong, swift, and highly skilled. He was better armoured than Conan as well, and did not have to pay as much attention to defending his body, for the steel of his cuirass was proof against even Conan's blows, while Conan's brigantine might be pierced by a hard and well-aimed thrust.