Part 23 (1/2)

”You do not understand,” the man on the bier interrupted smoothly.

Conan thought he detected amus.e.m.e.nt. ”The S'tarra are my servants. I greet what few strangers pa.s.s this way as I greet you, but betimes strangers are unscrupulous folk who think to use violence against me for all my friendliness. I find it best to remove all temptation by having my retainers near in sufficient numbers. Not that I suspect you, of course.”

Conan was certain of the sarcasm in that last. ”What kind of man is served by minions such as these scaled ones?” He suspected the answer, whether he got it or not, was that he had encountered another magician.

Instead of a reply from Amanar, Karela snapped, ”You forget who commands here, Cimmerian!” Her green-eyed glare transferred to the man in the scarlet robes, lessening not a whit in intensity. ”Still, Amanar, it is not a question out of place. Be you a sorcerer to be served by these monsters?”

Gasps rose from the bandits, and their mutterings increased. Conan winced, for he knew how dangerous it was to confront a mage too openly.

But Amanar smiled as he might at rambunctious children.

”The S'tarra are not monsters,” Amanar said. ”They are the last remnants of a race that lived before man, and gentle of nature despite their outward appearances. Before I came the hillmen hunted them like animals, slaughtered them. No, you have naught to fear from them, nor from me, though some bands which do not serve me sometimes fail to distinguish between the hillmen who hate them and others of humankind.”

”We met such a band,” Karela said.

Conan looked at the red-haired bandit sharply, but he could not tell whether she believed the man, or whether she attempted some deeper game.

”Praise be to all the G.o.ds that you survived,” Amanar said piously.

”Let me offer you the shelter of my keep. Your retainers may camp outside the walls and feel safe. Pray say you will be my guests. I have few visitors, and there is something I would speak to you of, which I think you will find to your advantage.”

Conan looked at the S'tarra arrayed on the slopes above and wondered wryly how many refused Amanar's invitations.

Karela did not hesitate. ”I accept gratefully,” she said.

Amanar smiled-once more it did not touch his eyes-bowed slightly to her, and clapped his hands. The eight S'tarra bearing his ivory throne turned carefully and started up the trail. Karela rode after him, and Conan and Hordo quickly followed her. On the slopes of the narrow valley the S'tarra kept alongside the bandits, moving over the slanted ground with lizardlike agility. Honor guard, Conan wondered, or simply guard?

”How much of what he says do you believe?” Hordo said softly.

Conan glanced at the throned man leading them-he had experience of the acuity of wizards' hearing. Amanar seemed to be ignoring them. ”Not a word,” he replied. ”That S'tarra, did he call it? was headed here.”

The one-eyed man frowned. ”If we turn suddenly, we could be free of his minions before they had ought but a crossbow shot or two at us.”

”Why?” Conan laughed softly. ”We came for the pendants, and what else we might find. He takes us into his very keep, right to them.”

”I never thought of that,” Hordo said, joining Conan's quiet laughter.

Karela looked over her shoulder, her tilted green eyes unreadable.

”Leave the thinking to me, old one,” she said flatly. ”That beard leeches your brain.” An uncomfortable silence fell over them.

Chapter XIX.

As the narrow, twisting gorge they had followed so long debouched into a broader valley, they saw the Keep of Amanar. Ebon towers reared into the sky, their rounded sides seeming to absorb the afternoon sun. Black ramparts, crenellated and sprouting bartizans, grew from the stone of the mountain. A ramp led to the barbican, topped by troughs for pouring boiling oil on those who approached unwarily. Not even a thornbush grew in the stony soil surrounding it all.

Amanar gestured to the wide expanse of the valley below the fortress.

”Camp your men where you will. Then come you inside, and I will speak with you.” His bier was carried swiftly up the ramp, leaving the bandits milling at its foot.

”Find a spot for my hounds, Hordo,” Karela said, dismounting and handing him her reins. Conan climbed down as well. Her green eyes sparkled dangerously. ”What do you think you're doing, Cimmerian?”

”I'm not one of your hounds,” he replied levelly. He started up the ramp, noting the guard positions on the walls. It would not be an easy place for a thief to enter.