Hastily he loosed his grip. “Then what lies at the end of that passage that seems to lead into the mountain?”
“I know not,” she replied, “save that all are forbidden to enter it. His chamber is where I said. I’ve been taken to him there. Would the gods had made him like Tiridates,” she added bitterly, “a lover of boys.”
“Then we’ll go up to his chamber,” Conan said. She shook her head once more. “What’s the matter now?” he asked.
“There is a spell on the stairway in the tower whenever he is out of the donjon. Truly he trusts no one, Conan. One of the human servants climbed that stair while Amanar was gone to meet you.” She shivered and buried her face against his chest. “He screamed forever, it seemed, and none could get close even to end his misery.”
He smoothed her hair awkwardly with a big hand. “Then I must enter the donjon when he is here. But if he isn’t here now, Velita, where is he?”
“Why, in your camp of bandits. I heard him say that the night might affright them, so he has taken them rare wines and costly viands for a feasting.”
Conan raised his hand helplessly. It seemed the gods conspired against him at every turn. “Velita, I must go back to the camp. If he suspects I’m here … .”
“I know,” she said quietly. “I knew from the first you could not take me with you.”
“Does not my standing here tell you my oathsworn word is good? I will see Amanar dead, and you free.”
“No!” she cried. “Amanar is too powerful. You’ll die to no purpose. I release you from your oath, Conan. Leave these mountains and forget that I exist.”
“You cannot release me from an oath sworn before gods,” he said calmly, “and I will not release myself from one sworn on my life.”
“Then you will die. Yet I do pray that somehow you will find a way. Please go now, Conan. I must await Amanar’s return, and I don’t want you to see me … .” The slender girl’s head dropped, and her shoulders quivered with sobs.
“I swear!” Conan grated. Almost wishing to find himself face to face with the sorcerer, he strode from the room.
XXI
As Conan approached the bandit camp he was struck with the sounds of raucous laughter and drunken, off-key singing. Stumbling into the light he stared in amazement. The brigands were in full carouse. Hook-nosed Reza squatted with a whole roast in his hands, tearing at it with his teeth. Aberius staggered past, head tilted back and a crystal flagon upturned. Half the wine spilled down his chest, but the weasel-faced man laughed and tossed the costly vessel to shatter against the rocky ground. Hordo swung his tulwar in one hand, a golden goblet in the other, roaring an obscene song at the moon. Every man sang or laughed, ate or drank, as was his wont and his mood, belching and wiping greasy fingers on his robes, gulping down costly Aquilonian wines like the cheapest tavern swill.
Through the midst of the revelry Karela and Amanar approached Conan. She held a crystal goblet like a lady of high degree, but there was a stagger to her walk, and the mage had his long arm about her slim shoulder. Amanar had pushed back her scarlet cape so that his elongated fingers caressed her silken flesh in a possessive manner. Remembering Velita, Conan was both disgusted and offended, but he knew he must yet control his temper until the pendant was in his grasp.
“We wondered where you were,” the red-haired woman said. “Look at this feast Amanar has brought us. This has cured the fit of sulking that had taken my hounds.”
Amanar’s dark eyes were unreadable. “There is little to see even in daylight, Conan of Cimmeria, and few men care to wander here in the night. What did you find to interest you in the darkness?”
“They built the fires too hot for my northern blood,” Conan replied. He eyed the way those long fingers kneaded Karela’s shoulder. “That’s a shoulder, mage,” he said with more heat than he had intended, “not a lot of bread dough.”
Karela looked startled, and Amanar laughed. “The hot blood of youth. Just how old are you, Cimmerian?” He did not remove his hand.
“Not yet nineteen,” Conan said proudly, but he was saddened to see the change in Karela’s eyes. He had seen the same in other women’s eyes, women who thought a man needed a certain number of years to be a man.
“Not yet nineteen!” Amanar choked on his own laughter. “Practically a beardless youth for all his muscles. The Red Hawk, the great robber of caravans, has robbed a cradle.”
She shrugged off the mage’s arm, her tilted green eyes glowing dangerously. “A barbar boy,” she muttered. Then, in a louder voice, “I have considered your offer, Amanar. I accept.”
“Excellent,” the sorceror said with a satisfied smile. He rubbed the side of his long face with the golden staff and regarded Conan. “And you, young Cimmerian who likes to wander in the dark? Despite your youth my offer to you yet holds, for I think there must be skill in those massive shoulders.”
Conan managed to force a smile onto his lips. “I need to think longer. In a day or two, as you first spoke of, I will give you my answer.”
Amanar nodded. “Very well, Cimmerian. In a day or two we shall see what your future will be.” His red-flecked eyes turned to Karela with a caressing gaze that made Conan’s flesh crawl. “You, my dear Karela, must come to the keep on the morrow. Without the young Cimmerian, of course, as he has not yet made up his mind. We must have a number of long private discussions concerning my plans for you.”
Conan longed to smash his fist into that dark face but instead he said, “Perhaps you’ll speak of some of those plans to us all. Knowing what they are might help me decide, and some of these others as well.”
Karela’s head had been turning between the two men with a comparing gaze, but at that she jerked rigidly erect. “My hounds go where I command, Cimmerian!”
A sudden silence fell, laughter and song all dying away. Conan looked around for the cause and found Sitha standing at the edge of the light, clutching a great double-bladed battle-ax across its broad chest. Red eyes glowed faintly as it surveyed the men around the fires, and they shifted uneasily, some loosening their weapons in their scabbards. The S’tarra’s lipless mouth curled back from its fangs in what might have been meant for a smile. Or a sneer.
“Sitha!” Amanar said sharply.