The sun was well up when Yasmina awoke. She did not start and blankly, where she was. She with full knowledge of all that had occurred. Her were from her long ride, and her to the of the arm that had her so far.
She was on a a of on a hard-beaten floor. A was under her head, and she was in a cloak. She was in a large room, the of which were but of rocks, with sun-baked mud. Heavy supported a of the same kind, in which a trap-door up to which a ladder. There were no in the thick walls, only loop-holes. There was one door, a that must have been from some Vendhyan border tower. Opposite it was a wide opening in the wall, with no door, but in place. Beyond them Yasmina saw a black a of grass. The was fort, dwelling-place and in one.
At the other end of the room a girl in the and of a hill-woman a small fire, cooking of meat on an iron over of stone. There was a in the a from the floor, and some of the its way out there. The in about the room.
The hill-girl at Yasmina over her shoulder, a bold, face, and then her cooking. Voices outside; then the door was open, and Conan in. He looked more than with the him, and Yasmina noted some that had her the night before. His were clean and not ragged. The Bakhariot that supported his knife in its would have matched the of a prince, and there was a of Turanian under his shirt.
'Your is awake, Conan,' said the Wazuli girl, and he grunted, up to the fire and the of mutton off into a dish.
The girl laughed up at him, with some jest, and he wolfishly, and a toe under her haunches, her onto the floor. She to from this of horse-play, but Conan paid no more to her. Producing a great of from somewhere, with a copper of wine, he the to Yasmina, who had from her and was him doubtfully.
'Rough for a Devi, girl, but our best,' he grunted. 'It will your belly, at least.'
He set the on the floor, and she was aware of a hunger. Making no comment, she seated herself cross-legged on the floor, and taking the dish in her lap, she to eat, using her fingers, which were all she had in the way of table utensils. After all, is one of the of true aristocracy. Conan looking at her, his thumbs in his girdle. He sat cross-legged, after the Eastern fashion.
'Where am I?' she asked abruptly.
'In the of Yar Afzal, the of the Khurum Wazulis,' he answered. 'Afghulistan a good many miles on to the west. We'll here awhile. The Kshatriyas are up the for you—several of their have been cut up by the already.'
'What are you going to do?' she asked.
'Keep you until Chunder Shan is to my seven cow-thieves,' he grunted. 'Women of the Wazulis are out of leaves, and after a while you can a to the governor.'
A touch of her old her, as she how her plans had gone awry, her of the very man she had plotted to into her power. She the dish, with the of her meal, and to her feet, with anger.
'I will not a letter! If you do not take me back, they will your seven men, and a thousand more besides!'
The Wazuli girl laughed mockingly, Conan scowled, and then the door opened and Yar Afzal came in. The Wazuli was as tall as Conan, and of girth, but he looked and slow the hard of the Cimmerian. He his red-stained and at the Wazuli girl, and that rose and out without delay. Then Yar Afzal to his guest.
'The people murmur, Conan,' he. 'They wish me to you and take the girl to for ransom. They say that anyone can tell by her that she is a lady. They say why should the Afghuli dogs profit by her, when it is the people who take the of her?'
'Lend me your horse,' said Conan. 'I'll take her and go.'
'Pish!' Yar Afzal. 'Do you think I can't my own people? I'll have them dancing in their if they me! They don't love you—or any other outlander—but you saved my life once, and I will not forget. Come out, though, Conan; a has returned.'
Conan at his and the outside. They closed the door after them, and Yasmina through a loop-hole. She looked out on a level space the hut. At the end of that space there was a of and huts, and she saw children playing among the boulders, and the of the going about their tasks.
Directly the chief's a circle of hairy, men squatted, the door. Conan and Yar Afzal a the door, and them and the ring of another man sat cross-legged. This one was his in the of the Wazuli which Yasmina understand, though as part of her education she had been the of Iranistan and the of Ghulistan.
'I talked with a Dagozai who saw the last night,' said the scout. 'He was near when they came to the spot where we the lord Conan. He their speech. Chunder Shan was with them. They the horse, and one of the men it as Conan's. Then they the man Conan slew, and him for a Wazuli. It to them that Conan had been and the girl taken by the Wazuli; so they from their purpose of to Afghulistan. But they did not know from which village the man was come, and we had left no a Kshatriya follow.
'So they to the nearest Wazuli village, which was the village of Jugra, and it and many of the people. But the men of Khojur came upon them in and some of them, and the governor. So the retired the Zhaibar in the dawn, but they returned with sunrise, and there has been and in the all morning. It is said that a great army is being to the about the Zhaibar. The are their and in every pass from here to Gurashah valley. Moreover, Kerim Shah has returned to the hills.'
A around the circle, and Yasmina closer to the loop-hole at the name she had to mistrust.
'Where he?' Yar Afzal.
'The Dagozai did not know; with him were thirty Irakzai of the villages. They into the and disappeared.'
'These Irakzai are that a lion for crumbs,' Yar Afzal. 'They have been up the Kerim Shah among the border to men like horses. I like him not, for all he is our from Iranistan.'
'He's not that,' said Conan. 'I know him of old. He's an Hyrkanian, a of Yezdigerd's. If I catch him I'll his to a tamarisk.'
'But the Kshatriyas!' the men in the semicircle. 'Are we to on our until they us out? They will learn at last in which Wazuli village the is held. We are not loved by the Zhaibari; they will help the Kshatriyas us out.'
'Let them come,' Yar Afzal. 'We can the against a host.'
One of the men up and his at Conan.
'Are we to take all the while he the rewards?' he howled. 'Are we to his for him?'
With a Conan him and to full into his face. The Cimmerian had not his long knife, but his left hand the scabbard, the forward.
'I ask no man to my battles,' he said softly. 'Draw your if you dare, you dog!'
The Wazuli started back, like a cat.
'Dare to touch me and here are fifty men to you apart!' he screeched.
'What!' Yar Afzal, his with wrath. His bristled, his with his rage. 'Are you of Khurum? Do the Wazulis take orders from Yar Afzal, or from a low-bred cur?'
The man his chief, and Yar Afzal, up to him, him by the and him until his was black. Then he the man against the ground and over him with his in his hand.
'Is there any who questions my authority?' he roared, and his looked as his their semicircle. Yar Afzal and his with a that was the of insult. Then he the with a that from his victim.
'Get the to the on the and word if they have anything,' Yar Afzal, and the man went, with and his teeth with fury.
Yar Afzal then seated himself on a stone, in his beard. Conan near him, apart, thumbs in his girdle, the assembled warriors. They at him sullenly, not to Yar Afzal's fury, but the as only a can hate.
'Now to me, you sons of dogs, while I tell you what the lord Conan and I have planned to the Kshatriyas.' The of Yar Afzal's bull-like voice the as he away from the assembly.
The man passed by the of huts, where who had his laughed at him and called comments, and on along the that among and toward the head.
Just as he the turn that took him out of of the village, he stopped short, stupidly. He had not it possible for a to enter the of Khurum without being by the hawk-eyed along the heights; yet a man sat cross-legged on a low the path—a man in a camel-hair and a green turban.
The Wazuli's mouth for a yell, and his hand to his knife-hilt. But at that his met those of the and the died in his throat, his limp. He like a statue, his own and vacant.
For minutes the motionless; then the man on the a symbol in the on the with his forefinger. The Wazuli did not see him place anything the of that emblem, but presently something there—a round, black that looked like jade. The man in the green took this up and it to the Wazuli, who it.
'Carry this to Yar Afzal,' he said, and the Wazuli like an and along the path, the black in his hand. He did not turn his to the of the as he passed the huts. He did not to hear.
The man on the after him with a smile. A girl's rose above the of the and she looked at him with and a touch of that had not been present the night before.
'Why did you do that?' she asked.
He ran his through her dark caressingly.
'Are you still from your on the horse-of-air, that you my wisdom?' he laughed. 'As long as Yar Afzal lives, Conan will safe among the Wazuli fighting-men. Their are sharp, and there are many of them. What I plot will be safer, for me, than to to him and take her from among them. It takes no to what the Wazulis will do, and what Conan will do, when my hands the of Yezud to the of Khurum.'
Back the hut, Yar Afzal in the of some tirade, and to see the man he had sent up the valley, pushing his way through the throng.
'I you go to the watchers!' the bellowed. 'You have not had time to come from them.'
The other did not reply; he woodenly, into the chief's face, his the ball. Conan, looking over Yar Afzal's shoulder, something and to touch the chief's arm, but as he did so, Yar Afzal, in a of anger, the man with his and him like an ox. As he fell, the rolled to Yar Afzal's foot, and the chief, to see it for the time, and it up. The men, at their comrade, saw their bend, but they did not see what he up from the ground.
Yar Afzal straightened, at the jade, and a motion to it into his girdle.
'Carry that to his hut,' he growled. 'He has the look of a lotus-eater. He returned me a blank stare. I—aie!'
In his right hand, moving toward his girdle, he had movement where movement should not be. His voice died away as he and at nothing; and his right hand he the of change, of motion, of life. He no longer a in his fingers. And he not look; his to the of his mouth, and he not open his hand. His saw Yar Afzal's distend, the color from his face. Then a of from his lips; he and as if by lightning, his right arm out in of him. Face he lay, and from his opening a spider—a hideous, black, hairy-legged like black jade. The men and gave suddenly, and the into a of the and disappeared.
The started up, wildly, and a voice rose above their clamor, a far-carrying voice of which came from none where. Afterward each man there—who still lived—denied that he had shouted, but all there it.
'Yar Afzal is dead! Kill the outlander!'
That their minds as one. Doubt, and in the of the blood-lust. A rent the as the to the suggestion. They came across the open space, flapping, blazing, lifted.
Conan's action was as quick as theirs. As the voice he for the door. But they were closer to him than he was to the door, and with one on the he had to wheel and the of a yard-long blade. He the man's skull—ducked another knife and the wielder—felled a man with his left and another in the belly—and against the closed door with his shoulders. Hacking were out of the about his ears, but the door open under the impact of his shoulders, and he into the room. A tribesman, with all his as Conan back, and head-first through the doorway. Conan stopped, the of his and him clear, and the door in the of the men who came into it. Bones under the impact, and the next Conan the into place and with to meet the man who from the and into action like a madman.
Yasmina in a corner, in as the two men and across the room, almost her at times; the and of their the room, and the like a wolf-pack, at the door with their long knives, and against it. Somebody a tree trunk, and the door to under the assault. Yasmina her ears, wildly. Violence and within, without. The in his and reared, with his against the walls. He and his through the just as the tribesman, away from Conan's swipes, against them. His in three places like a branch and he was against the Cimmerian, him so that they to the floor.
Yasmina out and ran forward; to her it that were slain. She them just as Conan the and rose. She his arm, from to foot.
'Oh, you live! I thought—I you were dead!'
He at her quickly, into the pale, and the wide dark eyes.
'Why are you trembling?' he demanded. 'Why should you if I live or die?'
A of her returned to her, and she away, making a attempt at playing the Devi.
'You are to those without,' she answered, toward the door, the of which was to away.
'That won't long,' he muttered, then and to the of the stallion.
Yasmina her hands and her as she saw him tear the and go into the with the beast. The above him, terribly, lifted, and teeth and ears back, but Conan and his with a of that impossible, and the on his forelegs. The and quivered, but still while the man him and on the gold-worked saddle, with the wide stirrups.
Wheeling the around in the stall, Conan called to Yasmina, and the girl came, past the stallion's heels. Conan was at the wall, talking as he worked.
'A door in the here, that not the Wazuli know about. Yar Afzal it to me once when he was drunk. It opens out into the mouth of the the hut. Ha!'
As he at a that casual, a whole of the on iron runners. Looking through, the girl saw a narrow opening in a a of the hut's wall. Then Conan into the and her up him. Behind them the great door like a thing and in, and a to the as the entrance was with and in fists. And then the great through the like a from a catapult, and into the defile, low, from the bit-rings.
That move came as an to the Wazulis. It was a surprize, too, to those the ravine. It so quickly—the hurricane-like of the great horse—that a man in a green was unable to out of the way. He under the hoofs, and a girl screamed. Conan got one of her as they by—a slim, dark girl in and a breast-band, herself against the wall. Then the black and his were gone up the like the a storm, and the men who came through the into the after them met that which their of blood-lust to of and death.
