“My daughter. She’s dead,” said Silvanus. “He took her. If the gods vouchsafe me a single chance, I will tear his throat out with my very teeth.” The captain’s voice shook, and his hands trembled with the intensity of his emotion.
A savage gleam of blue balefire shone in Conan’s eyes. His officers stirred uneasily, knowing that mistreatment of women roused the ruthless Cimmerian’s furious indignation. He showed the miniature around and returned it to Silvanus, saying:
“We want more information on Count Ulric’s army. How many are they?”
“Nearly twenty-five thousand, I believe.”
“Whence did Ulric get so many? The Army of the North had no such strength when I left the mad king’s service.”
“Many of Prince Numitor’s Frontiersmen, when they recovered from their panic, rallied and joined Count Ulric. And the regiment of the Black Dragons was ordered from Tarantia.”
“What befell Numitor after the rout?
“He slew himself in despair over his failure.”
“Are you certain?” asked Conan, “Amulius Procas was said to have killed himself, but I know that he was murdered.”
“There is no doubt of it, sir. Prince Numitor stabbed himself before witnesses.”
“A pity,” said Trocero. “He was the most decent of the lot, if too simple-hearted for a bloody civil war.”
Conan rumbled: “This calls for discussion. Pallantides, find sleeping quarters for Captain Silvanus and his men; then rejoin us here. Good-night, Captain.”
Publius, who had said little, now spoke up: “A moment, if you please, Captain Silvanus. Who was your father?”
The officer, at the tent flap, turned. “Silvius Macro, sir. Why do you ask?”
“I knew him when I served the king as treasurer. Good-night”
When the captain had departed, Conan said: "Well, what think you? At least, it’s good to have men deserting to us—not from us—for a change.”
“I think,” said Prospero, “that Thulandra Thuu seeks to plant a new assassin in our midst. He’ll but await to chance to slide a knife between your ribs, then ride like a fiend from hell.”
Trocero said: “I disagree. He looked to me like a straightforward young officer, not like one of Numedides’ fellow-debauchees or Thulandra’s ensorcered minions.”
“You cannot trust appearances," rejoined Prospero. "An apple may look never so rosy and still be filled with worms.”
“If you will permit me,” interrupted Publius, “I knew the young man’s father. He was a fine, upstanding citizen—and still is, if he lives.”
“Like father not always is like son,” grumbled Prospero.
“Prospero,” said Conan, “your concern for my safety does me honor. But a man must take his chances, especially in war. However much you guard me against a secret dagger, Ulric is like to kill us one and all, unless by some sudden stroke we can reverse our fortunes.”
For an instant there was silence as Conan sat brooding, his deep-set blue eyes focused on the ground before him. At last he said:
“I have a plan—a perilous plan, yet fraught with no more danger than our present situation. Tarantia is defenseless, stripped of her soldiery, whilst mad Numedides plays immortal god upon his throne. A band of desperate men, disguised as Dragons of the Household Guard, might reach the palace and— “
“Conan!” shouted Trocero. “An inspiration from the gods! I'll lead the foray."
”You are too important to Poitain, my lord," said Prospero. “It is I who— "
“Neither of you goes," said Conan firmly, “Poitanians are not greatly loved in the central provinces, whose people have not forgotten your invasion of their land during the war with King Vilerus.”
“Who then?" asked Trocero. “Pallantides?"
Conan shook his full black mane, and his face glowed with the lust of battle. “I shall perform this task as best I may, or die in the trying. I'll choose a squad of seasoned veterans, and we’ll borrow surcoats and helmets from Captain Silvanus’ men. Silvanus—I'll bring him, also, to identify us at the gates. Aye, he is the key to the city.”
Publius held up a cautionary hand. “A moment, gentlemen. Conan’s plan might well succeed in ordinary warfare. But in Tarantia you deal not merely with a demented king but also with a malevolent sorcerer, whose mystic passes and words of magic can move mountains and call demons from the earth or sea or sky.”
“Wizards don’t terrify me,” said Conan. "Years ago, in Khoraja, I faced one of the deadliest and slew him despite his flutterings and mutterings."
“How did you that?” asked Trocero.
"I threw my sword at him.”
"Do not count on such a feat again,” said Publius. "Your strength is great and your senses keener than those of common men; but fortune is not always kind, even to heroes.”
"When my time comes, it comes,” growled Conan.
“But your time may well be our time, too,” said Prospero. “Let me send for Dexitheus. A Mitrian priest knows more of the world beyond than we ordinary mortals do.”
Conan gave in, albeit with ill grace.
Dexitheus listened with folded hands to Conan’s plan. At length he spoke gravely; “Publius is right, Conan. Do not underestimate the power of Thulandra Thuu. We of the priesthood have some notion of the dark, nameless forces beyond man's fathoming.”
“Whence comes this pestilent thaumaturge?” asked Trocero. “Men say he is a Vendhyan; others, a Stygian.”
“Neither,” replied Dexitheus. “In my priestly brotherhood we call him a Lemurian, coming—I know not how—from islands far beyond the known world, eastward, in the ocean beyond Khitai. These shrouded isles are all that remains of a once spacious land that sank beneath the waves. To outwit a sorcerer with powers such as his, our general needs more than material arms and armor.”
Trocero asked: “Are there no wizards in this camp who would accept this service?”
“Nay!” snorted Conan. “I have no use for tricksters such as those. I would not harbor one or seek his aid.”
Dexitheus’ expression became doleful. “General, though you know it not, I am much discomfited,”
“How so. Reverence?” said Conan. “I owe you much and would not distress you without cause. Speak not in riddles, good friend."
“You have no use for wizards. General, calling them charlatans and quacks; yet there is one you count among your friends. You have need of a magician; yet you refuse the help of such a one.” Dexitheus paused and Conan beckoned him to continue.
"Know, then, that in my youth I studied the black arts, albeit I advanced little beyond the lowest grades of sorcery. Later I saw the light of Mitra and forswore all dealings with demons and the forces of the occult. Had the priesthood learned of my wizardly past, I should not have been admitted to their order. Therefore, when I accompany you on this perilous mission— “
'What, you?” cried Conan, frowning. "Wizard or no, you are too old to gallop a hundred leagues! You would not survive it.”
“On the contrary, I am of tougher fiber than you think. The ascetic life lends me a vigor far beyond my years, and you will need me to cast a counter-spell or two. But when I accompany you, my secret will come out. I shall be forced to resign my holy office—a sad ending to my life’s career.”
“Meseems the use of magic for a worthy end is a forgivable sin,” said Conan.
"To you, sir; not to my order, which is most intolerant in the matter. But I have no alternative; I shall use what powers I have for Aquilonia.” His sigh was heavy with tears too deep for thought.
“After it’s over,” said Conan, “perchance I can persuade your priesthood to make exception to the rigor of their rules. Prepare, good friend, to leave within the hour.”
“This very night?”
“When better? If we wait upon the morrow, we may find the camp rounded in by royalists. Prospero, pick me a troop of your most skillful mounted fighters.