Authors: Poul Anderson
She opened a foot-square hinged panel in the massive outer door and called softly. The turnkey arrived to unlock it for her. 'Farewell, lover who was,' she said to Jehanan, and departed.
The paralysis left him eventually. He crawled to the threshold and tried to suck the spilled potion out of the carpet.
Nehekba went down a stair and through a tunnel that were both secret. She walked fast, the gauzy gown aflutter behind her in cresset-lighted gloom, for Tothapis required her presence and she was belated.
By further devious ways she entered his house. The slaves who had been mutilated into muteness brought her to the centrum. He ignored her at first, continuing his interview with a man who stood respectful before his chair.
Nehekba considered this person closely, for though she had heard of Amnun, they had not met before. He was slender, erect, good-looking in an alien fashion; he favoured his mother, who had been a Taian slave in Luxur. In spirit, however, he drew from his Stygian father. Long had he been among the many laymen in the service of the priest-magician.
'The pirate galley is prowling up our coast,' Tothapis said. His vulture countenance jutted forward. Shadows played in the wrinkles of it and in the hollows of his eyes, as they did among the objects of sorcery round about. 'You wondered why I have not raised a gale to sink her. I will tell you; but if you ever reveal it to anyone else, you will soon long for the torments of hell.'
'I am my lord's faithful servant,' Amnun replied boldly.
Tothapis' bald head nodded. 'So you have been. Well, then our
of Set.' He made a reverent sign; Amnun genuflected; Nehekba briefly covered her face as befitted a woman. 'There are other gods than Set,' Tothapis continued. 'They have their own dominions. He has none over the sea – not yet, not yet. Therefore I, his priest, can work only small magics above the deeps out yonder. For the most part we must use our human intelligence.'
He lifted a bony finger. 'Now. The freighter Ateniti sails out on tomorrow morning's tide. Her captain and crew believe they are conveying cargo south to Umr. That course is such that Bêlit's Tigress will soon intercept her – given the minor guidance that I am able to impose on winds of these shores. The matter is so vital that this is but a small sacrifice to make. You go aboard this evening, in the role I explained days ago.' He pointed to a scroll lying wrapped about its rollers on a table. 'There is the documentation you require. Is all clear to you?'
'No, lord,' Amnun admitted. 'I am supposed to pretend familiarity with a person I have never encountered. How?'
Tothapis beckoned to Nehekba. She came forward. Amnun regarded her with the strife between lust and fear that she ever found delectable. 'Know you who I am?' she asked.
He bent his knee. 'You are the lady Nehekba, high priestess of Derketa, and I am humble before you,' he answered.
'I am she who has gathered the knowledge you must have,' she told him, 'and who is about to impart it unto you. Look up.'
He lifted his eyes. She turned the mirror at her throat. A light-ray sprang from the side now exposed. He shivered and froze. His features went blank. She kept the beam in his eyes while her left hand gestured and her tongue whispered words.
After a few minutes, she let the talisman dangle free on its chain. 'Amnun, arouse!' she exclaimed.
He shivered again, blinked, returned to awareness. 'You now know what I have learned from Jehanan,' Nehekba said. 'Use it well, and great shall be your reward.'
Astonishment made the man stagger. 'I – I know, I know!' he cried. 'It is as if I myself heard -'
'Peace,' Tothapis said from beneath the carven cobra hood. 'You will have this evening, and tomorrow, and the night that follows, to consider what our lady of Derketa has imparted to you, and order it
in your mind. Thereafter... for a while, Amnun, you will be the embodiment of fate. Set prosper you, Amnun, who go forth in his place.'
There was a little more talk, before the agent bowed and was Conducted out. Silence lingered after him, while the wizard sat in deep reverie. Nehekba shifted restless from foot to foot. At last she asked, 'Have I your leave to go, lord?'
His attention locked onto her. 'Where?' he demanded. 'The hour draws nigh for us and for Conan. We must not rest idle meanwhile.'
'I will not,' she said. 'Rather, I think I should return to the Keep at once – to Falco.'
Tothapis frowned. 'The Ophirite spy? What more can you do with the ignorant boy?'
'Bind him closer to me. Remember, my lord, we ascertained he too is in some unfathomable way linked with Conan's future. Best he be our tool.'
'Have you not already made him your own, as you did Jehanan?'
The midnight tresses stirred as Nehekba shook her head. 'Not absolutely. He loves me, yes, but he nourishes still an idea of duty above self. Let me keep trying to undermine that. It must needs be done slowly, subtly.' She flashed an impudent grin. 'Not unpleasantly, though. For all his youth, he is an excellent lover.'
'No, let him wait,' Tothapis said in glacial anger. 'You spend too much of your vitality in carnal matters.'
'I serve Derketa, to whom they belong,' she challenged.
'You serve great Set before her – before all else in his universe, Nehekba. Have you dared forget?' Chilled, the witch fell silent. The wizard pursued: 'I have urgent need of your assistance. This day I received a message through the homunculus we sent to Luxur. It was from Hakketh. He is bound here with a prisoner of war, a daughter of the ringleader in the Taian revolt. He has sensed fate in her, danger. He knows not what, but he brings her to me. Surely she too is enwebbed with Conan. I stand aloof from the female mind and soul, Nehekba. You must help me prepare the plans and the spells that may also make of her an instrument for the thwarting of Mitra and the triumph of Set.'
VI
Pirate, Barbarian, Rescuer
'Sail ho!'
The shout from the masthead of Tigress wakened an answering roar on deck. Her crew bounded about like black panthers, to drag forth chests stowed under rowers' benches, open them, take out battle gear, spring to stations. In the prow, Bêlit laughed aloud and pointed into the starboard quarter. There was no necessity for that; teeth gleamed ivory-white in the faces of the two helmsmen as they changed course. Conan snatched his mate to him and kissed her briefly and fiercely, before he jumped down to equip himself.
A brisk wind filled the sail and sent the galley soaring across wrinkled, glittery green-and-blue whitecaps. Limber hull and taut rigging creaked, as if to add their voices to the war chant that rose among the buccaneers. The mainland lay below the eastern horizon, but a mile or so to port, surf beat on an islet whose rocks lifted bleached and barren toward the azure emptiness above.
Conan rejoined Bêlit. His great form now shone in hauberk and horned helmet; sword and dirk were sheathed at his waist and an elliptical Suba shield was on his left arm. For her part she had merely fetched a pair of slender blades, and otherwise wore the same tunic and headband as before. Her hair was braided and coiled for action.
He peered ahead. They were closing in rapidly on their prey, a big-bellied Stygian merchantman. He could see her crew scramble about, trying to coax more speed out of the square sail, then readying themselves for an encounter they realized was inevitable.
'Here continues my revenge,' Bêlit exulted.
'She ought to have a cargo worth taking,' Conan opined, 'and in frankness, dearest, I've gotten hungry for a good fight.' He scowled.
'I told you before, a woman lacks a man's sheer strength,' she explained. 'Armour would but weight me down, without fending off a hard-driven arrow or keeping a solid blow from breaking my neck. Hut when we come to close quarters, you have seen I am as agile as any and more so than most.'
He put uneasiness from him. Crom, chief god of the Cimmerians, gave might and heart to those he favoured, and nothing else, that they may be able to hew their own ways through the world. Had the land of Crom reached down to the Black Coast and touched Bêlit in her mother's womb? Conan could well believe that.
For a moment he recalled his stark homeland. Far indeed had he wandered from it, and wild had been his adventures. Finally he had come upon love, but he knew that was by the same blind chance that -could at any instant reave it away again. He squared his shoulders. It behoved a man – or a woman- to stand up to every onslaught of the fates, unquelled.
Besides, he thought with a quick grin, it did look like a fine scrap ahead. The freighter's crew did not include many full-fledged warriors, to judge by their conduct, but they outnumbered the pirates, and every sailor learned early on how to handle himself in a tussle.
Arrows began to fly from her decks. Archers among the Suba returned the barrage, while their comrades gibed and howled at the foe. Sunlight glittered off spears shaken aloft. A shaft thunked into the figurehead of Tigress, an inch from Bêlit, and Conan snarled. She laughed. Down below, a Negro took one in his right thigh. He wrenched it loose, staunched the wound, and resumed his eager stance at the rail. A man aboard the Stygian vessel lurched, smitten in the throat, crumpled, and toppled over the side. As he splashed, a triangular fin cruised forward.
Bêlit yelled orders. Tigress drew upwind of her quarry. Hauled sharply about and poled out, her sail brought her toward the other hull. A huge ebon warrior amidships whirled a grapnel over his head and let it fly. Trailing a cord, it bit fast in the bulwarks. Immediately he sent another. 'Wa-ho-ah!' roared his fellows, and hauled so the muscles moved like snakes under sweat-shiny hides. Stygian axmen sought to cut the lines. A volley of arrows dropped some and drove the rest back. Planks banged together. Tigress shuddered from the impact but lay hard alongside.
'Get aboard before they torch us!' Conan bawled. He had seen what fire could do to a ship. His sword flared free, and he sped along the catwalk.
Crewmen of his had already brought up a boarding plank. Its teeth crunched into a rail several feet higher than that of Tigress. Conan shoved through the group and was first in their attack. Behind him stormed those few who had the armour to serve as shock troops. Most bore simply kilts or tunics, with the plumes and! weapons of their native country, but they seemed all the more fearsome for that as they gathered to follow. 'Wakonga mutusif!' Their screams overran the shouts of the merchant sailors.
Three men in Stygian military mail stood shoulder to shoulder at the head of the plank. Conan's blade whirred on high and sang downward. It belled on the metal of a shield. The bearer staggered from the force, but thrust from behind his protection. Conan's clumsy assault had been a ruse. His steel chopped sideways, caught the enemy's wrist, and raised a gout of blood. The man stared unbelieving at his dangling hand and reeled back, to sit down and die.
Conan had already used his own shield to catch that of his opponent on the left by the rim, hook it aside, and leave a leg exposed to a murderous sweep. As he smote, he gave a further twist that threw his foe against the one on the right. While the first wailed and sagged, the barbarian turned on the second. That fellow was more skilled. He kept his shield before him, moving it just enough to counter blows, and worked around its sides. Conan stepped back a pace to gain room. When the short sword probed after him, his own long blade rang down upon it. Sheer impact tore it loose from the Stygian's grasp. He retreated. Conan sprang forward and onto the freighter's main deck.
He had needed scarcely three minutes to clear the way. Honed metal gathered nigh, in a frantic attempt to slay him and close the gap. He bellowed for glee and laid about him. Most of the defenders, like most of the pirates, had little more than shields to aid them, if that. Their bare brown bodies were terribly vulnerable to his blows as he drove back or brought low. And now Bêlit's warriors were coming aboard.
The Stygian captain shouted from the poop. His men heard. They were a well-drilled crew. Such of them as were able formed into a tight squad and retreated aft. They inflicted as well as took losses. Suba were mainly engaged with those who had not managed to that band but nevertheless put up a stiff battle. Thus a score of the merchant seamen gained the higher deck.
She hurried over red-running planks, writhing wounded, assorted dead, to Conan. Arrows from the poop whistled after her. He drew her close to him and held up his shield for whatever safety it afforded. 'They can stand us off, where they are, for a long while,' He said. 'There is ample shipping in these waters, and pirates are the vicinity of every seafaring nation. They can hope another vessel will pass by in time to help them. Then I fear we must make off.'
'We can plunder this – No,' Conan decided. It would be impossible to transfer cargo under a barrage. Already the buccaneers had been forced to take shelter behind deckhouse, mast, and bollards. He felt an arrow ram into his shield and urged Bêlit out of the way.
'Well, we can at least set her afire!' she said viciously.
The wastefulness of that offended Conan's sense of workmanship. 'Hold,' he said. 'I have a notion. They can keep the ladder against us, aye... they have nobody at their backs.' He was now forward of the deckhouse. 'Help me, will you?' He dropped the shield.
'What -' she began. He told her. For a heartbeat she stood appalled, then understanding flamed in her, and she barked a she-wolfs laughter. 'You are mad, Conan, but you are wonderful! Yes!' She kissed him, so hard that her teeth drew blood from his lips, and knelt to unlace his boots.
He sent his encumbering chain mail rattling to the deck and slung his sword across his back. Barefoot, garbed merely in breeches and helmet, he darted forth. At the mast he studied the rigging for a moment, chose a halyard, and drew his dirk to cut it across. Thereafter he sought a rail and the shrouds on that side. His fingers and toes gripped tarry ratlines. Swift as a squirrel, he scampered
The Stygians did not appear to have noticed him. Bêlit had gotten her own archers to keep them occupied. A bulwark around the poop protected them fairly well, but they must keep their heads beneath except when rising briefly for a return shot.