"Indeed it is." Not just padding, but a helmet as well. He clapped the man who had spoken on the shoulder. "You have done well. Now let us finish our run."
Yakoub waited for all the men to pass before he began to run again. For today at least, he would be happier without any of them behind him!
For the days to come, though, he saw much pleasure. He had often heard his father speak of how the gods gave men no greater joy than teaching the arts of the soldier. He had not understood how true this was, until today.
"Conan, will Dessa come to any harm—as she is now?" Massouf still could not bring himself to say "as a tavern girl."
Conan shrugged. The truth would depend on what she was made of. He did not suppose Massouf would enjoy hearing it. The young man had not given up Dessa so completely that he refused to worry about her.
Even for a man not careless of his life, being worried about someone else was a good way to get killed. As he was, Massouf was less than ever someone Conan cared to have at his side in a fight.
"If she lived as well as she did at Achmai's Hold, I doubt that anywhere in Turan will hold many terrors for her." A thought came to him. "I have a friend in Aghrapur by the name of Pyla. She is also a friend to Captain Khezal. If we both urge her to help Dessa find her feet in her new life, I am sure that help will come."
It might need a trifle of silver, because Pyla did little even for friends without asking payment. Besides, launching Dessa properly would not be cheap.
Worth it, though. If Dessa began her career known as a friend of Pyla, she would have few enemies. The rest could be left, as he had said several times, to the girl's natural talents.
Remembering those talents made Conan's blood race. He muttered a polite farewell to Massouf and returned to the pool. The stone where he had been sitting was wet and dark. There was no sign of either woman.
Either they were playing ill-timed jests, or—
Conan was standing on the edge of the pool when Illyana burst from the water. She rose half her height out of it, like a water sprite seeking to fly. Her arms wrapped around Conan's knees and she flung herself backward.
She might as well have tried to upset the Lord of the Winds. When she realized her mistake, Conan had already gripped her by the shoulders. He lifted and she rose, until her long legs were twined around Conan's waist. She lay back in his arms and smiled invitingly. His lips crushed hers.
For a long moment nothing existed for the Cimmerian, save Illyana in his arms, naked, wet, and beginning to writhe in pleasure. Pleasure was not a sufficient word for what he felt. Madness would have been closer.
Even when Illyana untwined her legs and stood, she pressed against Conan. His hands ran down her back, pressing her tighter. He felt her breasts against his chest, as delightfully firm as they had seemed—
"No," Illyana said, or rather gasped. Her voice was husky with desire. She stepped back, forgetting that they were on the edge of the pool. With a splash and a shriek she plunged into the water again, to come up coughing.
Conan helped her out of the pool, careful to grip only her hands. Illyana herself kept a pace away from him as she began to dry herself with her clothes.
"That is not a no for all time, the Jewels—the gods willing. It is only for now, that we cannot—" Her voice was still unsteady, and her eyes seemed glazed. The desire was leaving Conan, but he still judged it wise to turn his back until Illyana was dressed.
It was not until Conan had finished his own bathing that he had a chance for words alone with Raihna.
"Are my wits straying, or was your mistress trying to make me desire her?"
"Trying?" Raihna's laugh was harsh, both frightened and frightening. "I judged she was succeeding admirably. That's as well. The gods only know what she might have done, if she had thought she was undesirable."
"If she ever thinks that, I hope some man will have a chance to prove how wrong she is!"
"Not you?" Raihna asked, with a twisted grin.
"I think I was safer as a thief in the Tower of the Elephant than I'd be in Illyana's bed. Less pleasure there, but less peril."
Raihna stood close against him, and ran one hand lightly down his back. "But she did make you want a woman?"
Conan did not need the message carved in stone. He returned the embrace.
"Yes. I hope it also made you want a man!"
Raihna's happy cries echoed from the walls of the valley. Nonetheless, Conan could not shake off the memory of Illyana's eyes and voice, still less her mention of the Jewels.
Twenty
THEY REACHED THE Valley of the Demons so early in their last day's march that Conan ordered them back.
"We want a place beyond the reach of Eremius's scouts, to lie up for the day. Everybody should try to sleep."
"Indeed. It may be our last," Massouf said. He sounded rather as if he welcomed the prospect.
Conan's urge to shake some wits into the man rose again. He forced it down. Massouf might want to die, but he had proved himself hardy and careful, not to mention a good hand with the bow and the spear. If he died, he would likely enough take some of the enemy with him.
Bora found them a refuge that Conan himself could not have bettered. It had a spring of clear water, shelter from the sun, and concealment from the enemy. It even offered a safe way of flight, if needed.
"Bora, if you ever join the army, I'll wager you're a captain before you can turn around," Conan said.
"You are not the first to say so, and I thank you all," Bora said soberly. "But I cannot think of that until I know my father is pardoned and safe. Even then, I will be needed for the rebuilding of Crimson Springs."
Conan found himself exchanging looks with the two women. Bora's optimism was easier to hear than Massouf's grim despair. It altered not a whit their slim chances of both winning and surviving to enjoy their victory.
The night mists swirled up from the valley in their natural silver-gray. No magic or at least no Jewel-spells were at work. Conan crawled to the crest and looked at the scree-strewn slope plunging away into the mist.
"If this is the best way down," he whispered, "Erlik spare me seeing the worst!"
"I am not a god, to arrange these mountains to make our task easier," Bora said. "I can only tell you how they are arranged."
"Without any thought for us, that's certain," Raihna said.
The banter kept their spirits up, but it took time. Conan signed for silence, then one by one led the party to the crest.
"Can you climb down that?" he whispered to each one. "Can you climb up it again, with the Transformed at your heels?"
He did not ask Bora, who could have taught climbing to goats. The others all nodded, save Massouf, who shrugged.
"If you can't climb, we may not be able to carry you," Conan said, in a final effort to wean Massouf from his dark intent.
"If I am not climbing, I can make better practice with spear and bow," Massouf replied. His eyes dared Conan to press him further.
"Likely enough there will be places we can defend lower down," Bora said. "If the sentries are alert, they will give the alarm before we reach the heart of Eremius's domain."
"Pray that it is not too soon," Illyana said. "The necessary spells must be cast with the two Jewels as close as we can contrive."
"You've persuaded us of that," Conan said. "Otherwise why would we be sticking our head into a wasp's nest to count the wasps?"
What they were doing was in fact many times worse than that. It was also utterly necessary. Illyana had said a wearying number of times that she could no longer fight Eremius's magic from a distance. Before the Jewels' will grew in them, it might have been otherwise. Now, however, they had to draw Eremius close. Otherwise she might exhaust her strength and her Jewel with nothing accomplished, leaving them with no magical protection against Eremius.