Conan and the Manhunters

by John Maddox Roberts

  'No such thing, as you well know, Damboula!' the Stygia retorted. 'But so epochal an event should have caused disturbances obvious to a first-year acolyte. Yet we, mages the First Rank, felt nothing, and must be told by this learn stonemason!'

  'Bridle your wrath, esteemed Thoth-amon,' said the age Khitan. 'As it happens, I agree with you. I believe this mean; that Ahriman has not yet returned. But his followers have somehow been resurrected, and it is they who prepare the way for their god to resume his place among the men, spirit and gods of this world.'

  'You speak wisely, Feng-Yoon,' the Stygian acknowledged. 'And whatever these lizard-men propose to accomplish, it is too great a work to bring about swiftly. I must consult my screeds and my spiritual advisers. Some of you serve bright gods, some of us the dark ones, and some d with no gods at all, but Ahriman is the deadly enemy of everyone. If he cannot be destroyed, he must be contained, charge you all to abandon your present labours until this threat is dealt with. Cease your feuds and work to contact all magicians of the First Rank who have not answered this convocation to enlist their aid. Are all in agreement?'

  'Aye,' they chorused.

  'And you, crystal-gazer,' Thoth-amon said. 'I charge you to take yourself to the lair of these Ahriman-worshippers and discover their secrets.'

  'As it occurs,' said Volvolicus, 'my steps take me thither upon the morrow.' He smiled thinly. 'I am called there to render assistance in a most weighty matter.'

  'Then fear us and obey. Your reward will be great. Punishment for failure is unimaginable.'

  The images above the table faded, and Volvolicus pondered long before seeking his bed.

  IV

  The two men, accompanied by a woman, rode into the city amid preparations for the festival. They wore the robes of desert dwellers of the Geraut tribe; the men in black turbans, their faces tightly veiled to the eyes, the woman in a yellow head-scarf, her face exposed. All three wore long flowing capes of striped cloth, baggy trousers and soft, high-topped boots. The tall thin man wore the ornaments of a shaykh. His burlier companion was clearly a bodyguard.

  'Lucky it is for you that blue eyes are not unknown: among the Geraut,' said Volvolicus. 'Else those guards back there would have dragged that veil down and embarrassed us all.'

  'Aye, but this is a good time to evade the law,' said Conan, in high good humour. 'When a city is thronged by unwanted crowds, the guards have no attention to spare. They know that a festival such as this will draw every robber, cut-purse and burglar for a hundred leagues around. They will have their hands full for many days. At such a time, who will stare twice at a common desert nomad?'

  'It does no harm that the Geraut have a reputation for cutting down any man who lays a hand upon them,' said Layla. 'A proud and touchy people, the Geraut.'

  Volvolicus, in his character as a desert shaykh, bore no weapon save a jewelled dagger in his sash. Conan wore a full Panoply of arms: a long lance propped in a stirrup socket; sword and dagger at his belt; small, circular shield of steel hanging on his saddle pommel. He wore no armour, for the climate did not favour it.

  The city through which they rode was crowded and noisy, with people occupying every available square foot. At nights the crowds slept in the streets and public gardens, protected by impromptu shelters of cloth, or by nothing at all. Everyone with something to sell had brought it to Shahpur in hope of finding buyers; established merchants and itinerants hawked drink or trinkets. All gawked at the entertainments and

  Dancers and tumblers performed on every corner. In circles scratched in the dirt, mountebank swordsmen challenged all comers, the purse to be awarded to the one who drew first Mood, or, for the more resolute, the one who dealt two cuts out of three.

  'A pity you cannot eat or drink through that veil, Cimmerian,' said Layla. 'A useful disguise it may be, but it prevents you from enjoying the festival.'

  'I do not carouse when I am working,' Conan answered. 'Celebration is best after you have done something worth celebrating.' The woman had been darting sly digs toward him ever since they had left the wizard's desert lair. After her brazen demonstration in the pool, she had reversed herself and now treated him coolly.

  Guardsmen were everywhere in evidence, but the Cimmerian saw no sign of Sagobal. Nor did Torgut Khan make an appearance, not that he expected the lofty viceroy to rub shoulders with the common herd. It was just as well because he was not certain that he would be able to control his temper should he see either of them. Hewing Sagobal or Torgut Khan asunder would be certain to upset his plans for stealing the treasure.

  They reined in before the new temple. Recently completed, made of gleaming new stone, it looked uncannily like a building of great age, its façade pitted and streaked. They walked their mounts across the crowded public square and hitched them to a tree shading the courtyard of an inn facing the temple. As they sat at a low table, the innkeeper hurried over to serve them.

  After ordering food and wine, Volvolicus questioned the innkeeper. 'I was told that this festival was held to dedicate a new temple. Surely that old building cannot be the one?'

  'Aye, it is hard to believe, and I like it not,' said the man, making a gesture to ward off evil. 'I saw the capstone set myself, back in the Month of Harvesting Wheat. Then it was new and gleaming, as you would expect. Now, only five months later, it looks as if it has been there a thousand years. Walk around the temple and you will see something passing strange: Three of the corners are sharp, but the south-west corner is rounded. All of the older buildings of this town are like that, for the desert wind blows from the south-west and the wind born sand eats away at the stone, but it takes many generations to do so.'

  Volvolicus made a hand-gesture used by the desert folk to ward off the demons of the southern winds. 'What can this mean, my host?'

  'I know not, but there is muttering in the town, and many declare that the temple should be destroyed. But,' he amended, 'not until after the festival, which is shaping up as a fine one.'

  'First things first,' Conan said.

  'Aye. I've not seen this many folk in the city since the great bandit Jemai the Cruel was executed when I was a child. A different torturer worked his arts upon Jemai every day. There was a great prize for the man who devised the most ingenious torment, but the one in whose care Jemai finally died was to forfeit his fee. The rogue lasted ten days.' The innkeeper smiled and sighed in fond remembrance of the good old days. 'But we had governors then who knew what to do with criminals. This one just recently allowed the brigand Conan to escape, and we must be satisfied with the execution of a few dozen common thieves and murderers.' lie hurried off to fetch their orders.

  'This does not look good,' Conan said when their host was safely out of earshot. 'I had planned a simple raid, thinking that building to be but an ordinary temple. I have plundered other such before and suffered no more than the attentions of the law. But this is no ordinary temple. Think you that violating it may bring some baleful curse upon our

  heads?'

  'No longer so eager after the treasure, Cimmerian?' Layla

  taunted.

  'I will have it!' Conan insisted. 'But this situation may pose special dangers. Volvolicus, you are a master of wizardry arts. Do we incur terrible peril if we profane yon pile?' 'A good question,' said the wizard, stroking his beard. 'It may be that if the temple has not yet been dedicated, the god does not yet dwell within, in which case, we incur no untoward danger.'

  'But what of this uncanny ageing?' the Cimmerian demanded.

  'It is perplexing,' Volvolicus allowed, 'but it need signify nothing more than conniving quarrymen and masons passing off inferior, soft sandstone for stone of the first quality. By cunning arts, such stone may be given a finish to mock polished granite and last long enough for the swindlers to get away with their loot before it begins to crumble. It is a common ruse.'

  'Perhaps it is no more than that,' Conan said, speaking as

  if he were trying to convince himself.

  'I w
onder if it may not be possible to go inside,'

  Volvolicus speculated.

  'It would be well if we could,' said Conan, 'little as relish the idea of going within that place. I want to scout out the interior, so that we waste no time when we come back for the treasure.'

  'I shall make inquiries,' said the mage.

  They ate in silence, the men taking small mouthfuls, lifting their veils slightly for each bite. Their wine they sipped through decorated silver straws. As they did this, they watched the passing parade, which was colourful, cosmopolitan and polyglot. Most of the nations bordering the Vilayet, as well as the plains, hills and deserts surrounding, were represented.

  At one end of the plaza, a large and imposing scaffold had been erected, and was the centre of much attention. Besides, a gallows, it sported many instruments of torture, readied for victims. Upon a tall white banner were painted the names of those to be executed, together with the crimes of each and the manner in which he was to be disposed of. For the benefit of the foreign and the illiterate, public criers read out the banner at regular intervals.

  'That banner must have been made up in the last few days,' Conan commented, 'for my name is not upon it.'

  'Fame is fleeting,' said Layla.

  'You've a sharp tongue for a serving wench,' the Cimmerian groused.

  'She is not a servant,' Volvolicus said. 'She is my daughter.'

  Layla laughed at Conan's consternation. 'I believe our barbarian companion blushes beneath his veil,' she said.

  'The girl gave me no cause to think she was your daughter,' Conan said.

  They were distracted by activity across the plaza. With a creak and rattle of metal, the fanged gate of the temple began to rise. Many onlookers gaped curiously, but others drew back, for the new temple inspired more dread than fascination.

  'Come,' Volvolicus said. 'Let us see what is afoot.'

  They rose from their table and strolled across the public square toward the temple. A man in a russet robe emerged from the temple and stood upon the top step, his arms raised. His features were hairless and ascetic, strangely mottled with bluish shadows.

  'Good people of Shahpur!' he announced in a loud voice. 'Guests from abroad! Our honoured viceroy, Torgut Khan, in his generosity has decreed that all who wish to gaze upon the splendours of the Temple of Ahriman may come within. I, Shosq, priest of Ahriman, will reveal its wonders and answer your questions.' The man's thin lips curled as he spoke, as if the words left a foul taste in his mouth.

  'There's a sour-faced rogue,' said Conan. 'I'll warrant he has no liking for this, guiding the common rabble through his holy of holies. Torgut Khan is forcing them to do it, to his own greater glory.'

  'And to our own greater fortune,' said Layla. 'That is yet to be seen,' grumbled Conan. The priest had surprisingly few takers for his guided tour. The Cimmerian, the wizard, Layla, and perhaps a half-score of others trooped up the stair to follow the priest within. They were barely inside the vast, echoing interior when a sound from behind them made them turn. The fangs of the vertical gate lowered until they touched the floor.

  'It is imperative that no unescorted persons enter,' the priest explained. 'The consequences could be terrible. For that reason, I must insist that none of you wander away from me. Now, if you will follow.'

  The group talked in subdued tones, for the atmosphere of the place was oppressive. The decorations were bizarre in the extreme, and they were rendered even more grotesque by the bloody light that flooded down from the clerestory.

  Along the walls were rows of low-relief carvings depicting men, women, and creatures of indeterminate species engaged in improbable couplings. The priest explained that these symbolized the creation of nature. On another wall, the figures underwent torture and slaughter fit to sicken the strongest stomach, and these the priest explained as representing the necessary destruction that must precede the renewal of creation.

  Layla paused at the base of one of the naked caryatids, admiring the lovely, agonized face and stroking a beautifully polished knee. She circled it and pointed out to her companions the marvellously detailed whip-marks that striped the buttocks and the bowed back, sculptured drops of blood flowing from them.

  'Beauty in torment, an interesting concept,' she commented. 'What do these women represent, Revered Shosq?'' The priest shrugged. 'Something must hold up the roof, Now, if you will come this way.'

  They followed him to an irregular, humped shape that was! covered by a great silken cloth.

  'This is the sacred altar of Ahriman,' Shosq said. 'Many of the local folk have been disturbed by its appearance, so we decided it best to cover it.'

  'Yet I would gaze upon this thing,' said Volvolicus. 'I have come far to see the wonders of this temple.'

  'As you wish, O shaykh,' said the priest. He took the cloth and raised it, exposing about half of the altar. The onlookers muttered among themselves at its loathsome aspect, but the mage stared at it, rapt.

  'Indeed, an unusual object,' Volvolicus remarked as the priest let the cover fall back.

  'It just looks like a pile of snakes to me,' Conan muttered, attempting to hide his unease.

  'These stairs—' Volvolicus said, pointing to the passage that led beneath the altar, '—do they lead to an inner chamber, where we may see an image of your god?'

  'Great Ahriman has no form that human beings can descry or imagine,' said Shosq. 'This merely leads to the crypt. It is not properly a part of the holy precincts and is to be used as the district treasury.'

  They continued the tour, and the priest explained some of the practices of his religion. There was little else of note within the temple, which was more distinguished for its sheer strangeness than for its riches. He then led them back outside and announced to the crowd that the next tour would commence that evening.

  The three collected their horses and rode from the town, attracting as little attention from the guards as when they had ridden in.

  'Everything that priest said was a lie!' Volvolicus said when they were safely away from the town. 'His explanations of the carvings were the rankest nonsense. What he calls his religion is nothing but a botched version of the Ormazd faith, with some elements of the more scabrous Vendhyan cults thrown in.'

  'What care I for that?' Conan demanded. 'The blotch-faced villain may sacrifice daisies to a green toad for all I care! What did you think of the layout of the temple? That passage to the crypt looks cursed narrow to me.'

  'Oh, that,' Volvolicus said distractedly. 'It presents some problems, surely, but nothing insurmountable. The weight to be moved will have to be arranged in a long, narrow mass. I shall adapt the formula for moving an obelisk.'

  'And the gate or portcullis or whatever it is?' Conan asked.

  'I shall have no attention to spare for it. You and your rogues must see to keeping it open yourselves. That is your speciality, is it not?'

  'It is. I wish we had got a look at its mechanism,' said the Cimmerian.

  'I wish we had got a look into the crypt,' the wizard said.

  'Eh? Do you not think it is a mere hole in the ground?'

  'It may be, but—' the mage hesitated '—this is difficult to express, for you know not the specialized language of Khelkhet-Pteth. From my many years of study, I have a feel for stone and crystal. Truly, all stone and metal are crystal, albeit in forms not visible to the unaided eye. I can feel masses and hollows as another may see them. Back in that temple, I could feel the crypt beneath us, but it was more than that.'

  'More?' said Layla. 'How so?' 'It was as if there were more than a simple hollow carved into the stone. It was rather as if there were one regular ho! low within a much larger one, far less regular.' 'Like one box within another?' Conan asked. 'Something of the sort, but in this case, though both share, the same space, one may be in another dimension.'

  Now the Cimmerian was thoroughly mystified. 'Tell me; this: Has it any bearing upon our going in and seizing the treasure?'

  'That I have no way
of knowing. That is why it would have been well for us to see inside the crypt first.'

  'Why must this be so complicated?' Conan groaned. 'A I man should be able to stage a simple robbery without involving disgusting gods and evil spirits!'

  'What of that altar?' Layla asked. 'It was surpassingly I ugly, but it looked like mere carved stone. Did you find any- thing about it amiss, Father?'

  'That was the uncanniest of all,' said Volvolicus. 'It was I no natural stone, nor anything that had its origin upon this I world. And the priest did not reveal all of it to us, just a part. I I have told you that all stone and all metal is crystal. Each crystal has a vibration different from the others, and all of I them are known to me. But this thing is different. It has no vibration detectable on this plane of being. It is inert, like a I dead thing.'

  'Then perhaps it is not of stone, nor of metal,' Layla hazarded.

  'Nay, it is stone, but a stone unlike anything of this earth.'

  Conan disliked all such talk. 'How does this have anything to do with the taking of the treasure?'

  'I do not know, but it is a thing of great and terrible power.'

  'As I understood the gossip in the city,' Layla said, 'allowing their crypt to be used as a treasury is the price these priests had to pay before Torgut Khan would allow them to build their temple within the city. They may have no interest in guarding it. They might even be glad to see the treasure taken away.'

  'It is conceivable,' the mage allowed.

  'Saw you anything that must prevent us from taking the treasure?' Conan urged single-mindedly.

  'Nay, I did not. If you and your men can get us in and hold the place open long enough, I can shift the treasure to your hideout.'

  'Good!' said the Cimmerian.

  'But what of getting us out of the city?' Layla asked.

  'That is entirely up to our barbarian friend. The concentration required to lift the metal will prevent me from accomplishing so much as the simplest spell of invisibility.'