The days passed, and the moon waned and waxed. A brief, disorganized rising by the lower castes was put down by Conan with an iron hand. Shubba, Tuthmes' servant, returned to Meroe. Coming to Tuthmes in his chamber, where lion skins carpeted the marble floor, he said, “I have found the woman you desired, master - a Nemedian girl, captured from a trading vessel of Argos. I paid the Shemite slave trader many broad pieces of gold for her."
“Let me see her,” commanded Tuthmes.
Shubba left the room and returned a moment later, leading a girl by the wrist. She was supple, and her white body formed a dazzling contrast to the brown and black bodies to which Tuthmes was accustomed. Her hair fell in a curly, rippling, golden stream over her white shoulders. She was clad only in a tattered shift. This Shubba removed, leaving her shrinking in complete nudity.
Impersonally, Tuthmes nodded. “She is a fine bit of merchandise. If I were not gambling for a throne, I might be tempted to keep her for myself. Have you taught her Kushite, as I commanded?”
“Aye; in the city of the Stygians and later, daily, on the caravan trail, I taught her. After the Shemite fashion, I impressed upon her the need of learning with a slipper. Her name is Diana.”
Tuthmes seated himself on a couch and indicated that the girl should sit cross-legged on the floor at his feet. This she did.
“I am going to give you to the queen of Kush as a present,” he said. “Nominally you will be her slave, but actually you will still belong to me. You will receive your orders regularly, and you shall not fail to carry them out. The queen is cruel and hasty, so beware of roiling her. You shall say nothing, even if tortured, of your continuing connection with me. Lest, when you fancy yourself out of my reach in the royal palace, you be tempted to disobey, I shall demonstrate my power to you.”
Taking her hand, he led her through a corridor, down a flight of stone stairs, and into a long, dimly-lit room. This chamber was divided into equal halves by a wall of crystal, as clear as water although a yard thick and strong enough to resist the lunge of a bull elephant. Tuthmes led Diana to this wall and made her stand, facing it, while he stepped back. Abruptly, the light went out.
As she stood in darkness, her slender limbs trembling with unreasoning panic, light began to glow out of the blackness. She saw a malformed, hideous head grow out of the blackness. She saw a bestial snout, chisel-like teeth, and bristles. As the horror moved toward her, she screamed and turned, forgetting in her frantic fear the sheets of crystal that kept the brute from her. In the darkness, she ran full into the arms of Tuthmes. She heard him hiss, “You have been my servant. Do not fail me, for if you do he will search you out wherever you may be. You cannot hide from him.” When he whispered something else in her ear, she fainted.
Tuthmes carried her up the stairs and gave her into the hands of a black woman with orders to revive her, see that she had food and wine, and bathe, comb, perfume, and deck her for presentation to the queen on the morrow.
FIVE: The Lash of Tananda
The next day, Shubba led Diana of Nemedia to Tuthmes' chariot, hoisted her into the car, and took the reins. It was a different Diana, scrubbed and perfumed, with her beauty enhanced by a discreet touch of cosmetics. She wore a robe of silk so thin that every contour could be seen through it. A diadem of silver sparkled on her golden hair.
She was, however, still terrified. Life had been a nightmare ever since the slavers had kidnapped her. She had tried to comfort herself, during the long months that followed, with the thought that nothing lasts forever and that things were so bad that they were bound to improve. Instead, they had only worsened.
Now, she was about to be proffered as a gift to a cruel and irascible queen. If she survived, she would be caught between the dangers of Tuthmes' monster on one hand and the suspicions of the queen on the other. If she did not spy for Tuthmes, the demon would get her; if she did, the queen would probably catch her at it and have her done to death in some even more gruesome fashion.
Overhead, the sky had a steely look. In the west, clouds were piling up, tier upon tier; for the end of Kush's dry season was at hand.
The chariot rumbled toward the main square in front of the royal palace. The wheels crunched softly over drifted sand, now and then rattling loudly as they encountered a stretch of bare pavement. Few upper-caste Meroites were abroad, for the heat of the afternoon was at its height. Most of the ruling class slumbered in their houses. A few of their black servants slouched through the streets, turning blank faces, shining with sweat, toward the chariot as it passed.
At the palace, Shubba handed Diana down from the chariot and led her in through the gilded bronze gates. A fat majordomo conducted them through corridors and into a large chamber, fitted out with the ornate opulence of the room of a Stygian princess - which in a way it was. On a couch of ivory and ebony, inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl, sat Tananda, clad only in a brief skirt of crimson silk.
The queen's eyes insolently examined the trembling blond slave before her. The girl was obviously a fine piece of human property. But Tananda's heart, steeped in treachery itself, was swift to suspect treachery in others. The queen spoke suddenly, in a voice heavy with veiled menace:
“Speak, wench! Why did Tuthmes send you to the palace?”
“I-I do not know-where am I?-Who are you?” Diana had a small, high voice, like that of a child.
“I am Queen Tananda, fool! Now answer my question.”
“I know not the answer, my lady. All I know is that Lord Tuthmes sent me as a gift—”
“You lie! Tuthmes is eaten up with ambition. Since he hates me, he would not make me a gift without an ulterior reason. He must have some plot in mind. Speak up, or it will be the worse for you!”
“I -I do not know! I do not know!” wailed Diana, bursting into tears. Frightened almost to insanity by Mum's demon, she could not have spoken even if she had wished. Her tongue would have refused to obey her brain.
“Strip her!” commanded Tananda. The flimsy robe was torn from Diana's body.
“String her up!” said Tananda. Diana's wrists were bound, the rope was thrown over a beam, and the end was pulled taut, so that the girl's arms were extended straight over her head, Tananda rose, a whip in her hand. “Now,” she said with a cruel smile, “we shall see what you know about our dear friend Tuthmes' little schemes. Once more: will you speak?”
Her voice choked with sobs, Diana could only shake her head. The whip whistled and cracked across the Nemedian girl's skin, leaving a red welt diagonally across her back. Diana uttered a piercing shriek.
“What's all this?” said a deep voice. Conan, wearing his coat of mail over his jubbah and girt with his sword, stood in the doorway. Having become intimate with Tananda, he was accustomed to entering her palace unannounced. Tananda had taken lovers before - the murdered Amboola among them - but never one in whose embraces she found such ecstasy, nor one whose relationship with her she flaunted so brazenly. She could not have enough of the giant northerner.
Now, however, she spun about, “Just a northern slut, whom Tuthmes was sending me as a gift - no doubt to slip a dagger into my ribs or a potion into my wine,” she snapped. “I am trying to learn the truth from her. If you want to love me, come back later.”
“That is not my only reason for coming,” he replied, grinning wolfishly. “There is also a little matter of state. What is this folly, to let the blacks into the Inner City to watch Aahmes burn?”
“What folly, Conan? It will show the black dogs I am not to be trifled with. The scoundrel will be tortured in a way that will be remembered for years. Thus perish all foes of our divine dynasty! What objection have you, pray?”