'Good evening, then.' Volvolicus wandered off, leaving them alone.

  'He is a trusting man, to leave his daughter with the likes of me,' Conan observed.

  'Perhaps he has faith in your sense of chivalry,' she said, laughing at the absurdity of it. 'Nay, barbarian, he knows that I am safe. No man can lay a hand upon me save I wish it.'

  'And what if you should not wish it?'

  'That man would spend perhaps a score of heartbeats dying in terrible agony. Not for nothing am I a wizard's daughter.'

  'Magic gives you an unfair advantage,' Conan grumbled, pouring himself a cup of wine.

  'Oh, and your great size and bulging muscles do not?' She took another cup for herself. 'Tell me, barbarian, how comes it that a soldier like you lives as a starveling bandit in southern Turan, or rather, Iranistan?'

  'Soldiering is ever a chancy trade,' Conan said. 'Sometimes you pick the wrong side and lose everything in a single battle, or your paymaster decides to avoid paying you by treacherously attacking his mercenaries the minute the war ends. But most often it is peace that ruins us. This past year and more, all the western kings and their nobles have been at peace, recovering from the last string of wars. An out-of-work soldier, if he has no land to return to, is a brigand. So,

  looking for a good war, I fell in among a band of professional bandits and decided to abide with them for a while.'

  'As you say, a chancy trade.'

  'Aye. But there is one comfort in this situation.'

  'What might that be?'

  'Peace never lasts for long,' he said, grinning. 'When the kings are recovering from the last wars, that just means that they are preparing for the next. My services shall be in demand again, and soon. How comes it that you dwell in the desert, with only your father for company?'

  'I have asked you about your past, so I suppose it is fair that you should ask about mine. I am the only child of Volvolicus, and it is customary in Turan that a daughter remain with her widowed father until he should decide she is to be wed.'

  Conan snorted. 'When did wizards ever feel bound by the custom of the land?'

  'You have seen enough of my father to know him a little. Does he seem like a dread practitioner of the black arts?'

  'I'll own that he seems more the scholar than the wizard,' Conan admitted.

  'Do not underestimate him. But it is true, he has no interest in summoning fell spirits or wreaking terrible spells, although like all mages of the higher ranks, he has studied these things. Most fathers marry off their daughters for wealth or advantage. My father has no need of these things. And I have no desire to wed. I have yet much to learn from my father.'

  'He is training you to be a wizard?' Conan asked, liking the idea very little.

  'I learn from him. He is too tradition-bound to give me the full training I need, for in all of history, female mages have been few, but in the fullness of time, he will see that he must yield to my demands. There are more important things than marrying some troublesome lout and raising brats.'

  'And yet,' Conan said, 'that night by the pool of your father's oasis, you did not seem so averse to male company.'

  'I did not say that I had no use for men,' she said. 'I just have no desire to become the wife of one.'

  They sat for a while, enjoying the cool of the evening. As the torches were lit, the dancers changed to slower, more languid dances, and wore far fewer clothes.

  Just before midnight a rider galloped into the square, scattering late strollers from before his horse's hooves. The man jumped from his saddle in front of the government house and ran up its steps, shouting something to General Katchka. The commander screamed and a trumpeter began a series of shrill, snarling blasts upon his instrument. Officers ran for their horses, and troopers boiled out of the various houses of entertainment, running for the town gates and the camps where their mounts were picketed. As they ran, they cursed and many of them were still pulling on their clothes, but they moved with the smartness of men who knew that a brutal flogging was the best they could hope for should they fail in their duty.

  For a few minutes the square thundered with shouting officers and prancing, excited horses. Then they were off, riding toward the main gate with General Katchka at their head. A great silence fell over the town. The dancers and musicians resumed their activities, and the caravaneers laughed and spoke more loudly. The whole mood lightened, as if a great, oppressive weight had been lifted. Only the tavern-keepers and harlots looked downcast, for they had enjoyed the free-spending habits of the soldiers.

  'I never saw so many drunks on horseback in my life,' Layla said. 'It is a wonder they all got out of here with no broken necks or tramplings.'

  'That is what real professionals look like,' Conan told her. 'They will ride and fight in worse condition than that.'

  'What do you suppose happened?'

  'That rider brought an alarm from some place. The rebels must have attacked one of their outposts and the royal troopers have set off to catch them.' He leaned back and stretched. 'At least now I can relax. There will be no fights between my men and the troopers this night. With luck, the soldiers will be away for a few days, running down rebels.'

  'But you think they will be back?' she asked.

  'Assuredly.' He pointed to the banner that flew above the government house, with the smaller flag beside it. 'There flies the royal arms, with General Katchka's personal colours beside it. This is his headquarters, and he'll not find a better town for many a day's ride. They will be back.'

  VIII

  Volvolicus rapped upon a door of heavy timbers, strapped with iron wrought into curious designs. The house was on a narrow street in the northwestern quarter of the town. Like others in the district, it was two-storied, but unlike any other, it had a narrow tower rising a further four stories above its flat roof. It was flanked by small shops selling oil and candles. A nearby perfumer's made the air fragrant, and from somewhere nearby, the mage could hear the music of a lute. At his third knock, an ancient crone opened a small viewing-port in the upper part of the door. 'Who calls at such an hour?'

  'I am Volvolicus,' he said. 'The name is known to your master. Please fetch him.' The old woman grumbled and closed the little port. A few minutes later the massive door creaked open and a slightly less aged man stood in the opening, beckoning the Turanian wizard in.

  'Volvolicus? Are you truly the one who called the Supreme Convocation?'

  'I am that one,' said the wizard, entering. 'Peace unto this house and all who dwell therein.'

  'And unto you,' the old man muttered quickly. Then: 'Only yesterday did I learn of your action. As it happens, I was deep within my wizardly meditations when the summons came, and I missed the first gathering.' Volvolicus knew that the man was far from the highest rank of his craft, and that was why he had not been drawn by the Convocation. 'For-: give my lapse of manners, but I never expected to see you here. I am Elma, wizard of Green Water.'

  'I knew I would find a fellow of the craft here when I espied your tower.'

  'Aye, I practice the Way of Stars and Water. But surely you are a long distance from your own home.'

  'I live but a few days' ride from here,' Volvolicus said, 'and certain business has drawn me hither.'

  'You honour my house,' Elma said. 'Have you eaten?' I Even wizards had to obey the sacred laws of hospitality in I this land.

  'I have just come from a caravansary and with the rest of I my party, partook of its fare. However, I may be in this town I for some days and I would crave lodging for myself and my daughter.'

  Elma bowed. 'You do me further honour.'

  'Then I would ask one thing more, and this a matter of far graver import: This night I must call the Supreme Convocation again.'

  Elma gasped. 'Of course you may use my poor facilities ' for this purpose. To my knowledge, never has such a summoning emanated from this part of the world.'

  'Not for millennia have there been times such as these,' Volvolicus said. 'And now, if you please, time is of the essence.'

  'Please come with me.' Elma gave the crone orders to secure the house and wait by the door for the arrival of the

  daughter of his guest. Then the two went to a stairway and

  began to climb. Two flights took them to a broad roof-garden,

  II was a cool, pleasant place in the desert night. Many of the Hat-roofed houses had such gardens, where the inhabitants were accustomed to meet and socialize after the sun had set:

  Elma went to the tower and unlocked its sole door with a key belted to his side. Within, a cramped stairway spiralled upward. This the two mages ascended, coming out upon a much smaller terrace overlooking the town and the oasis and desert beyond. Its parapet bore instruments of bronze, and here were numerous images of metal, wood and stone here and there. In its centre was a stone basin of clear water. The lip of the basin was curiously carved with human and animal figures.

  Volvolicus went to the parapet and examined a bronze standard that supported a flat, polished crystal the size of a dinner plate. With the eye of a connoisseur, he judged both She crystal and its intricately wrought setting. It was mounted in a gimballed bezel that allowed it to be manipulated to any angle.

  'A fine star-crystal,' he commended.

  'And we shall have need of it this night,' said Elma, adjusting its angle. 'See, the Dog Star rises, and with it rises the Great Wanderer, a most powerful conjunction.'

  'Let us begin,' said Volvolicus. The two men sat cross-legged by the basin, gazing into the water. Its surface reflected the stars overhead, and the crystal focused the light of the Dog Star upon its centre. In time, the water disappeared from their consciousness, and they seemed to be floating among those stars, which in turn shifted and drifted into unfamiliar juxtapositions, finally forming a pattern of strange geometry. Then, above each star, there formed the head of a wizard. There were far more at this summoning than upon the earlier night in the house of Volvolicus. Over a star that, uncannily, seemed to gleam black, there formed the face of Thoth-Amon. He was first to speak.

  'I see that this time you have brought a wizard of as little account as yourself,' he said. 'Times have come to an ill turn when great events devolve upon such paltry matters.'

  'Hold your tongue, Stygian,' Volvolicus said coldly.

  'Yes, be still,' said Feng-Yoon of Khitai. 'The gods do not choose their instruments capriciously, and because a student of the arts has not chosen to wallow in black evil as you have, it does not mean that he is not qualified for the highest ranks among us.'

  At the great Khitain mages's rebuke, the Stygian blazed with fury, but he said nothing more.

  'What has happened since your last communication, Volvolicus?' asked the Khitain. 'Did you enter this Temple of Ahriman? Did you behold its crypt?'

  'I did. Allow me to describe for you the events of the last few days.' Using the secret language of wizards, in which far' more can be conveyed than in ordinary speech, he laid out his story, to which the others rendered rapt attention.

  'How outrageous!' said a Nemedian when the recitation was done. 'This great cosmic event takes the form of a bandit's adventure!'

  ''Even the immortal gods,' said a Vendhyan, 'have been known to display a sense of humour.'

  'That crypt was no ordinary gap in stone,' said the Pictish wizard. 'It is the very maw of the god. If those fools touched the walls, not only are they condemned to an unthinkable death, but it was like giving tiny scraps of meat to a starving tiger. By now, it is roaring for more.'

  'This leader of your band sounds a bold fellow,' said a wizard of Kush. 'Who might he be?'

  'He is a great northerner, a barbarian and an adventurer,' Volvolicus said. 'I will convey to you his likeness.' Slowly, the head and powerful shoulders of the Cimmerian appeared amid the assemblage.

  'That rogue!' cried a black wizard in feathers and paint. 'I knew him years ago when he was Amra the Pirate!'

  Others exclaimed that they, too, had encountered the barbarian.

  'Ah, this is most interesting,' said Feng-Yoon, his stitched-together eyes and mouth unmoving but his countenance mysteriously growing brighter. 'This must be one of those singular men who trample over the world, driven by a destiny they but dimly perceive, setting at naught the vaunting plans of kings and wizards. Such men have even been known to challenge the gods and live to tell of it.' 'Like Rustam the God-Slayer!' said an awed Zingaran. 'Exactly,' said the Khitain. 'Such a one was Ma-Tsu, in lie reign of Emperor Lin, two thousand years ago. This one we must watch closely, for he can be our instrument of salvation, but he can wreak great mischief as well.' 'What is your will, my masters?' Volvolicus asked. 'You must keep close to the barbarian,' said the Khitain, 'but you must also go back to that temple. Some of us wend our way thither even now, but all takes time. Many obstacles have fallen in our paths, and I believe this to be the dire working of Ahriman. I myself could be there in a day, could I but summon a dragon to fly me thither, yet for the first time in three hundred years, none heeds my call.'

  'As it happens, we must go back soon,' said Volvolicus. 'The outlaws want to stay in this little town for a full turn of the moon, but I know this cannot be.'

  'Very good,' said Feng-Yoon. 'The others are not of great importance, but it is imperative that you go back. I think it would also be well if this Cimmerian were to go back too. As for the rest, they are common mortals and mean little.' 'It shall be as you wish, Master,' said Volvolicus. 'Succeed,' said the Khitain, 'and you shall ascend to the First Rank. Fail, and you need not concern yourself with your standing among your colleagues. It may then be the end of the world for us all.'

  'Into Iranistan, eh?' Sagobal said, stroking his beard. 'It was a wise move, whether they knew it or not. There is some sort of rebellion in the northern province, and we are strictly forbidden to cross the river.' The guard captain and his men were encamped near a village to the south of Shahpur. They had been making a sweep of the countryside, ostensibly in

  pursuit of the fleeing bandits. Here Berytus had found his employer and rendered his report.

  'There are no more than a dozen of them left,' Berytus said.

  'But they did not have the treasure?'

  'Not any great part of it, certainly. They had only the tired horses they were riding.'

  'The question, then, is this: Have they made contact with the treasure and hidden it? Or are they yet to find it? How far could that wizard have flown such a weight?'

  Berytus shrugged his bare shoulders. 'That is a question I cannot answer. I've had no experience of flying treasures, and little enough of the earthbound sort.'

  Sagobal pondered. 'Could the wizard have sent it to a hiding place in Iranistan? That would be a problem.'

  'You say that the mage has his house near here?' Berytus asked.

  'Aye, that he has.'

  'Might he not have sent the treasure there? The flight into Iranistan might be a ruse to throw off pursuit. They might have recrossed the river at another point and returned to the wizard's house to divide up the loot.'

  'That makes sense,' said Sagobal. 'I will give you a guide. Fare you to the house of Volvolicus and search the place, then report your findings to me. But if you find the treasure, be sure that you say nothing about it to anyone save me.'

  'As you wish, Chief. We need fresh horses.'

  'Take them from among our remounts. Apply to my quartermaster for such other supplies as you need. Anything he does not have,' he pointed at the cluster of buildings nearby, 'take from the village.'

  'What if the villagers protest?' Berytus asked.

  'Kill any that hinder you. I am concerned with matters more important than wretched villagers.'

  Two hours later, Berytus and his manhunters rode from the village on fresh horses, fully supplied. Behind them they left

  a few slain villagers, for some had not wished to give up their belongings and others had been unwilling to supply their daughters for the amusement of the murderous band.

  Leading them was a Turanian trooper, a small man on a fast horse who carried the stripped-down gear of a scout. They rode tirelessly over the arid landscape, pausing only occasionally to rest their horses. Just before nightfall, they came within sight of the house of Volvolicus.

  'There is the place you seek,' the guide said, pointing. 'My captain has given me orders that I am not to accompany you there. I shall abide here until you return.'

  'Let's go,' Berytus said, reining his horse into the small valley where the house sat by its pond. No smoke rose from its roof, and there were no signs of men or beasts nearby. They knew this could be deceptive, for all of them were well versed in the art of occupying a hideout while leaving no external signs of their presence. Accordingly, they proceeded

  with caution.

  Barca the Shemite rode a little ahead of the others, arrow fitted to string. He rode barefoot, with toe-loops depending from his saddle in lieu of stirrups. Carefully, he scanned the ground before him, his gaze searching out all nearby rocks and brush where danger might lie. The ground closest to the pool was littered with dry twigs fallen from the brush nearby. As he approached, these twigs seemed to shimmer and vibrate; then his horse reared as they transformed into a nest of writhing, hissing serpents.

  'Bel and Marduk!' the Shemite swore as he fought his mount back under control.

  'The sorcerer's home is protected by spells!' said Urdos of Koth, superstitious dread in his voice.

  'There is no danger,' said Ambula. 'See, they writhe like real snakes, but they leave no marks in the sand. Watch me.' The man from Punt dismounted and gathered up a handful of small stones. Armed with these, he walked fearlessly to the nest of vipers and began to throw rocks at them. When

  struck, each reverted to an inoffensive twig. 'It is just an illusion. The wizard of my home village knew this trick.'

  'I am convinced,' said Bahdur the Hyrkanian. 'Persuading my horse is another matter.'

  'We will leave the horses here,' Berytus instructed. 'Even if we take the time to destroy all these false snakes, they would just be frightened by the next illusion.'

 

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