Otanis frowned. 'Once more the war arrow goes among the clans and Taia strives for her ancient freedom,' he said. 'I was captured in an engagement and sent to the slave market.'
Conan studied him and observed shrewdly: 'You do not seem to have suffered too much.'
'No, I was fortunate, if such a thing as good fortune can exist in a cage,' Otanis replied. 'The Stygian who bought me, a merchant of Khemi named Bahotep, has the wit to recognise that one gets more out of an animal if it is properly treated. I happen to be literate - not very common among Taians in these sad years, as my lady doubtless knows - and he put me in his counting house. Lately he appointed me his supercargo for this precious shipment. He had come to truss me, you see; besides, he charged the captain to keep me under guard while in port.' Otanis shrugged again. 'Well, if we balance the fact that he is not unkindly against the fact that he claims me for his slave, I seem to owe him nothing, good or ill. Therefore, my lord and lady, I am at your service.' He repeated his bow. 'May I ask who you are?'
'I am Bêlit, of the corsair Tigress,' the woman said proudly, 'and this is my fellow captain Conan -' She broke off. Otanis stood agape 'What is the matter?'
'You ... are Bêlit... of Shem and the Black Coast?' he inquired.
Light rippled along her obsidian-dark tresses as she nodded. 'Yes,' she said, 'I am Bêlit, who like you has much to avenge upon Stygia.'
'Why, I - I know your brother,' Otanis stammered.
Bêlit stiffened. 'What?' she said in a shuddering breath.
'Yes, Jehanan, is he not your brother? How often and with what has he told me of you.'
Bêlit's sword clattered to the deck. She seized Otanis by the arm. Her nails dug into his flesh till he winced. He stood fast, hough, which Conan liked. The Cimmerian's own broad palm .might the shoulder of his beloved. Beneath the silken skin, he felt Now flesh tensed and shivered.
'Tell me!' she commanded. 'Tell me everything!'
'Why ... well, there is a great deal,' Otanis said hesitantly. 'We became close friends, he and I.'
'He is no longer the victim of that Ramwas beast?' she cried.
Otanis shook his head. 'No. He is not.'After a search for words, he proceeded: 'He has told me how Ramwas bought you both, and you . apparently got away. He dared hope for no more than that you met a decent death. How overjoyed he would be to see you here, queen of battle! But in any case, Jehanan had made such trouble on his own that Ramwas decided to get rid of him and put him up for sale. My master Bahotep bought him. As I said, Bahotep knows better than to make afield hand of a gifted and educated man. Jehanan responded well to reasonable treatment.' Otanis cast a smirk at Conan.' We may even visit a certain female he keeps, once a week, if we behave ourselves.' He grew serious anew, met Bêlit's tearful regard, and went on: 'Yes, Jehanan works beside me, or did until I was sent on his voyage. Of course, his heart ever hungers for freedom. But he is too intelligent to risk what he has, little though that be, unless the Gods give him a better chance of escape than has yet appeared.'
'Jehanan- in Khemi? Jehanan!' Bêlit wailed. She cast herself into Conan's arms and sobbed. He held her close, stroked her hair and back, murmured what comfort he could. Such of her men as were topside stared white-eyed but did not venture near.
'Where is he, Otanis?' Bêlit tore loose from her lover and whirled on the other man. 'We will make a raid. Guide us to him, and all the gold in Stygia shall be yours!'
Conan understood, down to his marrow, what she was feeling. Yet because he was, in some measure, still an outsider, he was able to maintain calm. Beneath it, rage and eagerness seethed in him. To give Bêlit this gift! But he had the power to stand back and study how the thing might be done.
He pinioned her, made her look at him, and said most carefully:' 'My dearest, you rave. One ship against a city and a fleet? That is rescue, that is suicide. Let us use our brains as well as our blades,' tone strengthened, 'and Jehanan will indeed walk the decks Tigress.'
She hauled herself, almost hand over hand, back toward steadiness. 'Yes, you are right, of course,' she could finally say. 'We need a plan. But this is going to be what we live for - Jehanan's freedom - until we have won it.'
Conan's ice-blue gaze went above her head and speared Otanis. 'We shall require your help,' the Cimmerian said. 'No doubt the venture will be dangerous. You have fought for your country. Now be true to us, and you shall have not only your liberty, but shiploads of wealth. Would those not buy plenty of mercenaries for your cause?' He pondered a moment, silent amidst the sea wind. 'If you fail us,' he finished bluntly, 'you die.'
Otanis smiled. 'It may not even be so difficult,' he responded. 'Shall we talk further?'
Bêlit put the first mate in charge of transshipping cargo, and accompanied the two men beside her into the former captain's cabin. She and Conan sat down at its table. Otanis fetched wine and joined them. A sunbeam sickled through a glazed window, back and forth as the vessel rolled. There came sounds of men talking and laughing at work, creak of wheeling gulls, whoosh and smack of waves. Though the room was small and sparsely furnished, air blew past a door secured half open, to fill it with salty breath and hope.
Otanis took a sip from his goblet, leaned back, bridged his fingers, and said: 'Bahotep's mansion and warehouse are not heavily watched. His slaves know they have the best - the least bad -master in Khemi, and are anxious to stay in his good graces. Yes, Jehanan likewise, unless and until a clear chance to run away comes along. My lady Bêlit must have had incredible luck in her own escape. I would be interested to hear what happened.'
'I stole a boat,' the woman snapped.
'And were not intercepted before then - by a sacred python, for example?' Otanis clicked his tongue. 'Moreover, when a missing slave and a missing craft were reported next morning, certainly three
in lour ships went out in search. The Stygians always want to make examples of contumacious underlings, and a ship has greater hull .speed than a boat. It was sheer fortune that none chanced to sight you, and that nobody thought it worthwhile to ask a magician to scry your exact whereabouts, until too late. Jehanan can not expect similar luck; and a flight overland would be more futile yet. Remember, the punishment for a fugitive slave is not death -not for lays.'
He paused. Conan drank deep of the acid Stygian wine and regarded him dourly. Otanis resumed:
'However, as I said, Jehanan would have no special difficulty in leaving Bahotep's place. He, like me, often does, on this or that errand. He could readily invent a reason to be absent for two or three lays, a reason that would convince the guard, such as a message to bear to the superintendent of one of Bahotep's plantations. It is unlikely that the guard would query the master about this. I could send him a note instructing him about it - give it into the hand of some mutual, illiterate friend in the household, as soon as that person passes by the spot where I lurk. He and I could then hasten to the boat that brought me ashore, take off well ahead of any pursuit, and seek back to this ship, my lady.'
Wine slopped from the cup that Bêlit raised to her lips.
'You are very glib, Otanis,' Conan growled. 'Why should we believe we have not seen the last of you, once you are in that boat?'
'A good question, sir,' the dark man replied, unruffled. 'My answer is threefold. First and least, you have offered great reward for my service - reward not only to me but my poor oppressed motherland. Second, I am truly a friend of Jehanan. If you doubt this, let me spend a few hours telling you what he has told me about himself - and about you, my lady - yes, tales reaching far back into childhood. You know your brother; you know he would not relate intimate matters to anyone whom he did not feel was trustworthy. Third, I am a Taian, a mountaineer, no sailor. I will need someone to man the boat that carries me. It is also best I bring a strong sword arm along, in case something goes awry.'
Conan's fist boomed on the tabletop. 'You have one!' he exclaimed.
'No, not you, dearest,' Bêlit protested. She clutched his wrist, will go.'
/>
He shook his head. 'Impossible. You could never pass yourself as a noblewoman or a harlot - the only kinds of female who may wander freely about in Khemi, if it is true what I have heard Besides, though you are a bonny fighter, I shall have a better chancel in a heavy set-to - better than any of the crew, in fact. Also, they are none of them used to cities, right? Such a fellow would all too liken blunder and draw attention. Mainly, you call me your co-captain Bêlit, but the truth is that you are the one those wild blacks obey. I cannot even speak their language. We must keep Tigress ready for . . for Jehanan.'
She gulped, then said with steely realism: 'So be it, Conan. I will scuttle this ship and hold our galley near yonder isle. Akhbet, it is called, and I will teach you how to navigate your way between it and Khemi. It is unpeopled, a handy rendezvous.'
The barbarian stroked his massive chin. 'Hm, you do understand there is no way of foretelling how long this will take? We don't want to be rash, Otanis and I. And sheer misfortune could delay us - maybe force us inland after we have Jehanan.'
Bêlit nodded. 'Yes, surely I understand.' Her voice broke. 'Buy oh, Conan, never will I forsake you, in life or in death! I am torn between my love for you and my love for my brother - unwilling am I to see you go in to danger, even on his account, and yet he is the son of my father. No, never will I forsake. Here Tigress shall abide, off Akhbet isle. If you are long gone, we may have to steer off in search of supplies; or caution may send us away, if war-craft come by; but always, always we will return and wait.' She entered his embrace. 'Always, Conan!'
Soon, though, she was calm enough that she could ask Otanis about Jehanan, how he fared and what he had had to tell. As she listened, an ardour kindled in her that flared high in Conan, too.
VII
Traitors' Tavern
Night had fallen when a gig taken from the merchantman reached he mainland, but a gibbous moon gave ample light for eyes that had served their possessor in the darkness of Cimmerian forests.
Hie beams glimmered on low, lapping waves and lateen sail. Ahead, Stygia stretched dim beneath the faintly gilded eastern sky.
The breeze was still off the sea, and Conan felt the heat thicken as
he neared his goal.
That was not Khemi harbour. No craft entered it without permission, nor would Conan have wanted his to be in the view of police; his departure might have to be abrupt and violent. Otanis had suggested a cove south of the estuary, which Bêlit agreed on; she had noticed it on passages between her parents' trading post and their home city in former days. She gave Conan instructions in steering by the heavens, which he quickly mastered, for he had often guided himself overland in similar fashion. Her farewell yet thrilled in his spirit.
The boat lost wind as she entered the little bay, screened by liana-clad mangroves and palms on its miry sides. 'Furl the sail,' Conan told Otanis, and took up a sweep. Water churned to the force of his sculling. Serpents and crocodiles glided off in alarm, shiny-scaled. 'Ho, you are a lubber, aren't you?' the barbarian added after seeing how clumsily his companion laboured. 'Let me do it when we make land.'
That happened shortly. He secured the hull fore and aft to trees growing on a bank at the low-water line; it would be unwise to leave himself dependent on the tide. Their drooping branches and the vines growing leafily along these ought to protect the gig from observation by chance wayfarers. Having made things shipshape, he garbed his sweating form in kaftan, cowled mantle, and sandals
that had been part of the booty. The cloak hid his illegal sword and dirk, and should enable him to pass casual inspection, at least by night. His size was unusual but not extraordinary among the generally tall Stygians, his skin was tanned to much the same hue as that of their aristocrats, and his blue eyes and foreign cast features were shadowed.
'I envy you in your cool tunic,' he remarked to Otanis. A whine filled the sultry air. He felt a sting, swatted the mosquito, and chuckled. 'Or maybe I don't. Well, from here on, you are in charge, my friend.'
In practice he found he must be the leader through the march, for the older man stumbled and fumbled. It struck Conan odd that one who had been a hunter and herdsman should be as inept as any city dweller. However, the Cimmerian supposed a native of highlands might well fare badly in this wet, entangled gloom. Few people had had As wide an experience of nature in all her aspects as he had.
Otanis did take over after they emerged in cultivated fields. Dust-grey by moonlight, a road ran north beside an irrigation ditch, for them to follow. Twice they came by villages of serfs, miserable clusters of mud hovels. Starveling dogs yelped at them but did not rouse humans who slept the sleep of exhaustion.
'Why do they live like this?' Conan wondered. 'What do they get from their lives but toil - for the good of their overlords, not themselves - and want and an overseer's lash across their backs if they flag?'
'It is the only life they know,' Otanis replied.
'But can they not even imagine something better? The only life I knew as a boy was that of my barbarian homeland. It was paradise set beside this, but nonetheless it grew wearisome to me, and I started out to see the greater world beyond.' Conan reflected. 'Oh, a single man or a single family who tried to run away from here would doubtless come to grief. But if enough of them gathered together, sworn to be free or else dead, they could cast that monstrous load of the state off themselves.'
Otanis was shocked. 'Why, that would bring the end of civilisation!'
'So it would,' Conan agreed cheerfully.
'The heritage of the ages - learning, art, refinement - abolished for the sake of - of those beasts of burden?'
'I have been in many civilised realms, and it is true they had much to offer; but always the price was having a state and always that price was too high.' Conan threw a sharp glance at his associate. 'You talk rather strangely for a Taian, from what I have heard about Taians.'
Otanis pinched his lips together. 'Best we do not discuss politics,' he said, and fell into a silence that Conan could not make him break. The Cimmerian finally shrugged and gave himself to remembering Bêlit.
The distance to cover was just a few miles, and the travellers reached Khemi well before midnight. Walls and towers loomed mountainous above the darkly gleaming River Styx. Here and there a window shone, yellow and lonely, but otherwise the city was sheer murk that seemed to drink down what moonlight fell upon its stones. On a warm night like this most towns would have given forth a few sounds of revelry, but silence lay heavy on the capital of the wizard priests.
Otanis led Conan toward the waterfront, by a paved road under the walls. That brought them in sight of the Great Pyramid, a hulk over-topping the loftiest battlements. This being high ground, Conan also glimpsed the pale jungle of old quarries and tombs below it, descending to the streamside. He curbed a shiver of fear. Mortal foes of any sort he gloried in meeting, but he nursed a primitive dread of the supernatural, and folk whispered that the ghosts of uncounted centuries haunted yonder brae. As for Khemi itself - he had not told Bêlit what courage he must summon to enter such a place.
Yet he was in truth the man best suited by far to accompany Otanis and fetch her brother back for his dearest. In his mind he stamped on his terrors; in his body he paced with tigerish steadiness.
The gates were closed to traffic between sunset and sunrise, unless it was in the service of the hierarchy. But only a pair of flanking walls and watchtowers confronted the docks, which
otherwise stood open. Anything else would have hampered the water-borne commerce on which Khemi, like most of Stygia, depended. For defence on that side, the city had the royal fleet, the steep upward approach, and ultimately the powers of its sorcerers. Not for hundreds of years had any hostile force been so foolish as to attack it. Even its landward fortifications were mainly for the purpose of enabling the hierarchy to keep close control over its life.
Thus Conan and Otanis could enter as belated fishermen might, though they did keep to the deeper shadows, and sometime
s hunched waiting for the opportunity to advance a few more yards, lest the harbour police notice them and ask their business. In the streets beyond, they had no further need for stealth.
'What a pit,' Conan muttered. 'Is not a single honest inn awake, for a horn of beer against this accursed heat?'
'You can get that where we are bound, but few places else,' Otanis declared softly. 'Now be quiet. We do not want to draw the heed of certain things that go abroad after dark.'
Beneath his cloak, Conan clapped hand on sword hilt. He had heard of the giant pythons sacred to Set, allowed to rove freely in the night when they grew hungry and take what prey they found. Almost, he would have welcomed such a monster, something real to fight. He was no Stygian, to let himself be crushed and devoured unresisting because that was the will of the god!
Though the street was broad, high buildings on either side shut off the moon and most of the stars, making it a canyon of gloom.
He appreciated, grudgingly, the absence of the filth common to thoroughfares elsewhere - until he glimpsed a party of the slaves who cleaned it up each night. They were the emaciated, the diseased, the insane, deemed worthless for any other duty in this last stretch of their lives, and it was as if nothing but their foremen's whips kept them tottering along. Elsewhere a flaring torch would show an occasional labourer of a slightly more fortunate kind, a messenger, a robed and bestially masked priest, or a courtesan naked save for the high, plumed headdress required of her. Those people were few and joyless. Aside from them, Khemi was an abyss wherein went slitherings and hissings.
The blackness deepened as Otanis brought Conan into a meaner
section. Here the ways were narrow, twisting, and foul, between crumbling walls of tenements and workshops. Flat roofs were lumpy with sleepers who had fled oven-like interiors. Once a pair of young men slunk close, spooky in their kaftans, and Conan saw knives glimmer forth. He drew his sword, and they thought better of whatever they had intended and slipped back into their alley.
The Conan Chronology Page 239
