1 A Drum Begins
'Peril in the house of Aram Baksh!'
The speaker's voice with and his lean, black-nailed at Conan's arm as he his warning. He was a wiry, sun-burnt man with a black beard, and his him a nomad. He looked smaller and than in to the Cimmerian with his black brows, chest, and powerful limbs. They in a of the Sword-Makers' Bazar, and on either of them past the many-tongued, many-colored of the Zamboula streets, which is exotic, hybrid, and clamorous.
Conan his from a bold-eyed, red-lipped Ghanara skirt her at each step, and at his companion.
'What do you by peril?' he demanded.
The man over his replying, and his voice.
'Who can say? But men and travelers have slept in the house of Aram Baksh, and been or of again. What of them? He they rose and their way—and it is true that no citizen of the city has from his house. But no one saw the travelers again, and men say that and as theirs have been in the bazars. If Aram did not sell them, after doing away with their owners, how came they here?'
'I have no goods,' the Cimmerian, the shagreen-bound of the that at his hip. 'I have my horse.'
'But it is not always rich who by night from the house of Aram Baksh!' the Zuagir. 'Nay, men have slept there—because his score is less than that of the other taverns—and have been no more. Once a of the Zuagirs son had thus to the satrap, Jungir Khan, who ordered the house by soldiers.'
'And they a full of corpses?' asked Conan in good-humored derision.
'Nay! They naught! And the from the city with and curses! But—' he closer to Conan and shivered—'something else was found! At the of the desert, the houses, there is a of trees, and that there is a pit. And that have been bones, and blackened! Not once, but many times!'
'Which proves what?' the Cimmerian.
'Aram Baksh is a demon! Nay, in this city which Stygians and which Hyrkanians rule—where white, and black together to produce of all and breeds—who can tell who is a man, and who a in disguise? Aram Baksh is a in the of a man! At night he his true and his guests off into the where his from the waste meet in conclave.'
'Why he always off strangers?' asked Conan skeptically.
'The people of the city would not him to their people, but they for the who into his hands. Conan, you are of the West, and know not the of this land. But, since the of happenings, the of the have Yog, the Lord of the Empty Abodes, with fire—fire that victims.
'Be warned! You have for many in the of the Zuagirs, and you are our brother! Go not to the house of Aram Baksh!'
'Get out of sight!' Conan said suddenly. 'Yonder comes a of the city-watch. If they see you they may a that was from the satrap's stable—'
The Zuagir gasped, and moved convulsively. He a and a horse-trough, only long to chatter: 'Be warned, my brother! There are in the house of Aram Baksh!' Then he a narrow and was gone.
Conan his sword-belt to his liking, and returned the at him by the of as they past. They him and suspiciously, for he was a man who out in such a as the of Zamboula. His and him from the Eastern swarms, and the at his added point to the difference.
The did not him, but on the street, while the opened a for them. They were Pelishtim, squat, hook-nosed, with blue-black their breasts—mercenaries for work the Turanians themselves, and no less by the population for that reason.
Conan at the sun, just to the flat-topped houses on the western of the bazar, and once more at his belt, moved off in the direction of Aram Baksh's tavern.
With a hillman's he moved through the ever-shifting colors of the streets, where the of against the ermine-trimmed of merchants, and the pearl-sewn of rich courtezans. Giant black along, blue-bearded from the Shemitish cities, from the deserts, and from all the lands of the East.
The native population was no less heterogenous. Here, centuries ago, the of Stygia had come, an out of the desert. Zamboula was but a small trading-town then, a ring of oases, and by of nomads. The Stygians it into a city and settled it with their own people, and with Shemite and Kushite slaves. The caravans, the from east to west and again, and more of races. Then came the Turanians, out of the East to the of Stygia, and now for a Zamboula had been Turan's outpost, by a Turanian satrap.
The of a on the Cimmerian's ears as the pattern of the Zamboula about him—cleft now and then by a of horsemen, the tall, of Turan, with dark hawk-faces, metal and swords. The from under their horses' hoofs, for they were the of Zamboula. But tall, Stygians, in the shadows, darkly, their glories. The population little the king who their in dark Khemi or Aghrapur. Jungir Khan Zamboula, and men that Nafertari, the satrap's mistress, Jungir Khan; but the people their way, their colors in the streets, bargaining, disputing, gambling, swilling, loving, as the people of Zamboula have done for all the centuries its towers and have over the of the Kharamun.
Bronze lanterns, with dragons, had been in the Conan the house of Aram Baksh. The was the last house on the street, which ran west. A wide garden, by a wall, where date-palms thick, it from the houses east. To the west of the another of palms, through which the street, now a road, out into the desert. Across the road from the a of huts, by trees, and only by and jackals. As Conan came the road he why the beggars, so in Zamboula, had not these empty houses for sleeping quarters. The lights some him. Here were no lanterns, the one the gate: only the stars, the soft of the road underfoot, and the of the in the breeze.
Aram's gate did not open upon the road, but upon the which ran the and the garden of the date-palms. Conan at the rope which from the the lantern, its by on the iron-bound gate with the of his sword. A opened in the gate and a black through.
'Open, blast you,' Conan. 'I'm a guest. I've paid Aram for a room, and a room I'll have, by Crom!'
The black his to into the road Conan; but he opened the gate without comment, and closed it again the Cimmerian, locking and it. The was high; but there were many in Zamboula, and a house on the of the might have to be against a raid. Conan through a garden where great in the starlight, and entered the tap-room, where a Stygian with the of a student sat at a table over mysteries, and some over a game of in a corner.
Aram Baksh came forward, walking softly, a man, with a black that his breast, a hook-nose, and small black which were still.
'You wish food?' he asked. 'Drink?'
'I ate a joint of and a of in the suk,' Conan. 'Bring me a of Ghazan wine—I've got just left to pay for it.' He a copper coin on the wine-splashed board.
'You did not win at the gaming-tables?'
'How I, with only a of to with? I paid you for the room this morning, I I'd lose. I wanted to be sure I had a over my tonight. I notice nobody in the in Zamboula. The very a they can dark. The city must be full of a particularly blood-thirsty of thieves.'
He the with relish, and then Aram out of the tap-room. Behind him the players their game to after him with a in their eyes. They said nothing, but the Stygian laughed, a laugh of and mockery. The others their uneasily, one another's glance. The by a Stygian are not calculated to make him the of a normal being.
Conan Aram a by copper lamps, and it did not him to note his host's noiseless tread. Aram's were in soft and the was with thick Turanian rugs; but there was an of about the Zamboulan.
At the end of the Aram at a door, across which a iron rested in powerful metal brackets. This Aram and the Cimmerian into a well-appointed chamber, the of which, Conan noted, were small and set with of iron, gilded. There were on the floor, a couch, after the Eastern fashion, and stools. It was a much more than Conan have for the price nearer the center of the city—a that had him, when, that morning, he how a his for the past days had left him. He had into Zamboula from the a week before.
Aram had a lamp, and he now called Conan's attention to the two doors. Both were provided with bolts.
'You may sleep safely tonight, Cimmerian,' said Aram, over his from the doorway.
Conan and his on the couch.
'Your and are strong; but I always sleep with by my side.'
Aram no reply; he his thick for a moment as he at the weapon. Then he withdrew, the door him. Conan the into place, the room, opened the opposite door and looked out. The room was on the of the house that the road west from the city. The door opened into a small that was by a of its own. The end-walls, which it off from the of the compound, were high and without entrances; but the that the road was low, and there was no lock on the gate.
Conan for a moment in the door, the of the lamp him, looking the road to where it among the palms. Their together in the breeze; them the desert. Far up the street, in the other direction, lights and the of the city came to him. Here was only starlight, the of the leaves, and that low wall, the of the road and the their against the low stars. Somewhere the a began.
The of the Zuagir returned to him, somehow less than they had in the crowded, streets. He again at the of those empty huts. Why did the them? He into the chamber, the door and it.
The light to flicker, and he investigated, when he the oil in the lamp was almost exhausted. He started to for Aram, then his and out the light. In the soft he himself on the couch, his hand by for and on the of his broadsword. Glancing at the in the windows, with the of the through the in his ears, he into with a of the drum, out on the desert—the low and of a leather-covered drum, with soft, of an open black hand....
