Conan stared at the fat man, intending to behead him. But there were people about; somebody might call the deputies, and he had enough to worry about as it was. Then a thought struck him, and Conan smiled. He sheathed his sword, recalling the conversation he had overheard while pretending to be unconscious in the witch's bedchamber. "Nay, fat one,"

he said, "I shall not spit your carca.s.s on my new steel. That would be too merciful."

"Y-young sir, what can you mean? I have done you no harm-"

"Through no lack of trying, I'll wager. I see you recognize the knife I carry."

"N-n-no, I've never seen it-"

"Its former owner is your master, cur. I speak of Lemparius, senator and werepanther."

"Werepanther?"

"Ah, you did not know this? No matter. He is not your problem, doomed one. There is a woman, a witch-"

"Djuvula!"

Conan smiled. "Aye, you know of her too. Well that you should, for she wishes to make tripe of your guts."

"But-but-why?"

"Your former master gave you to her, dog. It seems the lady does not care for your manner of changing alliances. In trying to serve two, you have been abandoned by both."

"No!"

Conan laughed again. "Were I you, fat one, I would relocate my business to another city. Or another country. And quickly."

Loganaro turned and sprinted away, uttering oaths as he ran. It was one of the funniest things Conan had ever seen, and he laughed so hard, he nearly was unhorsed.

Vitarius said, "I was not aware you knew such a subdolous weasel as Loganaro, Conan."

Conan's laugh dwindled to a chuckle. "Only in pa.s.sing," he said.

Vitarius led the way through the alleys and back streets toward the west gate of Mornstadinos. Eldia and Kinna followed close behind, and Conan brought up the rear, watching carefully for signs of pursuit. He saw a group of five deputies once, but they were at cross-angles to his path, moving away. Good.

The west gate was unguarded, save by a single man. This one leaned on his pike, engaged in ribald conversation with a dark short-haired trull with a heavily painted face. As Conan rode past the sentry, the man, intent on arguing over the price the woman was asking for her favors, did not even look up.

The sun was past the mid-afternoon point when the four rode unhampered from Mornstadinos. Conan could hardly recall any place he was happier to leave. Weighed against the double-dealing and intrigue of the citizens he had encountered in Mornstadinos, an attack upon a wizard in a magically fortified castle seemed almost an insignificant task.

Chapter Fourteen.

Several hours out of Mornstadinos the party of four stopped to allow their horses rest. Aside from themselves Conan had seen no other travelers. The Corinthian road was empty.

Vitarius drank from a goatskin, splashing wine into his mouth until it dribbled down his chin. He pa.s.sed the skin to Conan, who filled his own mouth several times, swallowing noisily.

Eldia and Kinna moved toward a thick stand of bushes. Conan called to them. "Careful."

Kinna waved the staff she carried. "Do not worry. I can attend to the rabbits and ground monks with this."

Vitarius said. "You had a story you were going to tell."

"Aye." Conan began to speak of his recent adventures. Shortly after he had started, the women returned.

When he finished, Kinna shook her head. "It seems you live a life charmed of the G.o.ds, Conan."

"Perhaps. I do not depend upon G.o.ds, however." He patted his sword with one callused hand. "Steel is much better. A good sword acts as a man demands and is as good as the man who wields it. G.o.ds act for their own reasons, and cannot be depended upon in times of danger."

"Think you that the senator will send pursuit?" Eldia asked.

The Cimmerian shrugged. "Possible. He has no love for me. If the wh.o.r.emonger at the gate recalls our pa.s.sage, Lemparius might well dispatch his minions our way. At the crest of the last hill I looked back, but saw no dust along the road. If we are pursued, we have several hours on them."

Kinna nodded.

"That will likely be the least of our worries," Vitarius said.

"Sovartus has set certain . . . wards upon the roads leading away from Mornstadinos. We are five days ride from Dodligia Plain, upon which his foul castle rests. Before then we must pa.s.s whatever guards he has posted-not to mention the Bloddolk Forest."

"Bloddolk Forest?" the young Cimmerian repeated.

"Aye. A place of strange fauna and stranger flora. It lies away from the Corinthian road, to the north, along a side path. We must travel that way to reach Sovartus's domain. Not many men essay to ride that path; of those who do, few return."

Conan shrugged. The forest was in the future, not something to worry about now. "Best we resume riding," he said. "If men do follow, we are gained upon as we sit."

The four mounted their horses and moved off.

Djuvula swayed, sweat drenching her naked form. She moaned once, and clenched more tightly the clothing she held. Conan's clothing.

Djavul watched with interest, but without any stirring of carnal pa.s.sion for the unclothed woman. His interest lay in finding the savage who had wounded him.

Djuvula collapsed. After a moment she arose, breathing deeply. She walked to where she had hung her robe, donned the garment, then turned toward her demon half-brother. "He rides the Corinthian road," she said. "With the girl and the others. They are half a day out."

Djavul nodded. "Good. I shall go and find them."

"Carefully, brother. They are no less than they were the last time you confronted them."

Djavul waved his injured arm. Already at the stump a new growth could be seen, the outline of tiny fingers. "I have learned some caution in dealing with the Fire-child. I shall bide my time until an opportune moment presents itself."

"See that you do. And remember, I want the barbarian's living heart-I care not for what shape the rest of him might be in."

Djavul grinned; slime dripped from his fangs. "You shall have it, sister dear. He will hardly have any use for it after I am done with him."

Djavul vanished amid his booming- bruise of color.

Three days after the barbarian's escape from her chamber, Djuvula had a visitor, or, rather, two visitors. One was Lemparius; the other, Loganaro.

The senator shoved the fat man into the room before him. Loganaro's hands were bound, and his pasty face was stained with sweat and fear.

"A present for you, dear one," Lemparius said.