“Just this: if you let a few thousand Kushites into the Inner City and then work up their blood lust by the sight of the torture, it won't take much to set off another rising, Your divine dynasty has not given them much cause to love it.”
“I do not fear those black scum!”
“Maybe not. But I have saved your pretty neck from them twice, and the third time my luck might run out. I tried to tell your minister Afari this just now, in his palace, but he said it was your command and he could do naught. I thought you might listen to sense from me, since your people fear you too much to say anything that might displease you.”
“I'll do naught of the kind. Now get out of here and leave me to my work - unless you would care to wield the whip yourself.”
Conan approached Diana. “Tuthmes has taste,” he said. “But the lass has been frightened out of her wits. No tale you got out of her would be worth the hearing. Give her to me, and I'll show you what a little kindness can do.”
“You, kind? Ha! Mind your own affairs, Conan, and I will mind mine. You should be posting your guardsmen against tonight's gathering.” Tananda spoke sharply to Diana: “Now speak, hussy, damn your soul!” The whip hissed as she drew back her arm for another lash.
Moving with the effortless speed of a lion, Conan caught Tananda's wrist and twisted the whip out of her hand.
“Let me go!” she screamed. “You dare to use force on me? I'll have you-I'll-I'll—”
“You'll what?” said Conan calmly. He tossed the whip into a corner, drew his dagger, and cut the rope that bound Diana's wrists. Tananda's servants exchanged uneasy glances.
“Mind your royal dignity, Highness!” grinned Conan, gathering Diana into his arms. “Remember that, with me in command of the guard, you have at least a chance. Without me ... well, you know the answer to that. I shall see you at the torture.”
He strode toward the door, carrying the Nemedian girl. Screaming with rage, Tananda picked up the discarded whip and hurled it after him. The handle struck his broad back, and the whip fell to the floor.
“Just because she has a fish-belly skin like yours, you prefer her to me!” shrieked Tananda. “You shall rue your insolence!”
With a rumbling laugh, Conan walked out. Tananda sank to the floor, beating the marble with her fists and weeping with frustration.
Moments later, Shubba, driving Tuthmes' chariot back toward his master's house, passed Conan's dwelling. He was astonished to see Conan, carrying a naked girl in his arms, entering his front door. Shubba shook the reins and hastened on his way.
SIX: Dark Counsel
The first lamps had been lit against the dusk as Tuthmes sat in his chamber with Shubba and with Mum, the tall Kordafian sorcerer. Shubba, glancing uneasily at his master, had finished his tale.
“I see that I did not credit Tananda with her full measure of suspiciousness,” said Tuthmes. “A pity to waste so promising an instrument as that Nemedian girl, but not every shaft strikes the butt. The question, however, is: what shall we do next? Has anyone seen Ageera?”
“Nay, my lord,” said Shubba. “He vanished after stirring up that riot against Tananda - very prudently, if I may say so. Some say he has left Meroe; some, that he lurks in the temple of Jullah, working divinations by day and night.”
“If our divine queen had the wit of a woman,” sneered Tuthmes, “she would invade that devil-devil house with a few stout guardsmen and hang the priests to their own roof-tree,” His two companions started and shifted their eyes uneasily. “I know; you are all terrified of their spells and spooks. Well, let us see. The girl is now useless to us. If Tananda failed to wring our secrets from her, Conan will do so by gentler means, and in his house she will learn naught of interest to us anyway. She must die forthwith, Mum, can you send your demon to Conan's house while he is commanding his guardsmen this evening, to make away with the wench ?”
“That I can, master,” replied the Kordafan. “Should I not command it to stay there until Conan returns and slay him, too? For I see that you will never be king whilst Conan lives. As long as he holds his present post, he will fight like a devil to protect the queen, his leeman, because he so promised to do, regardless of how he and she may quarrel otherwise.”
Shubba added: “Even if we got rid of Tananda, Conan would still stand in our way. He might become king himself. He is practically the uncrowned king of Kush now -the queen's confidant and lover. His guardsmen love him, swearing that despite his white skin he is really a black man like themselves inside.”
“Good,” said Tuthmes. “Let us dispose of the twain at the same time. I shall be watching the torture of Aahmes in the main square, so that none shall say that I had a hand in the slaying.”
“Why not set the demon on Tananda., also?” asked Shubba.
“It is not yet time. First, I must align the other nobles behind my claim to the throne, and this will not be easy. Too many of them, as well, fancy themselves as king of Kush. Until my faction grows stronger, my hold on the throne would be as insecure as Tananda's now is. So I am satisfied to wait, meanwhile letting her hang herself by her own excesses.”
SEVEN: The Fate of a Kingdom
In the main square of the Inner City, Prince Aahmes was tied to a stake in the center. Aahmes was a plump, brown-skinned young man, whose very innocence in matters of politics, it seemed., had enabled Afari to trap him by a false accusation.
Bonfires in the corners of the square and lines of torches illuminated an infernal scene. Between the stake and the royal palace stood a low platform, on which sat Tananda. Around the platform, royal guards were ranked three deep. The fires shone redly on the long blades of their spears, their shields of elephant hide, and the plumes of their headdresses.
To one side of the square, Conan sat his horse at the head of a company of mounted guardsmen with lances erect. In the distance, lightning rippled through the high-piled clouds.
In the center, where Lord Aahmes was tied, more guardsmen kept a space clear. In the space, the royal executioner was heating the instruments of his calling over a litle forge. The rest of the square was jammed with most of the folk of Meroe, mingled in one vast, indiscriminate throng. The torchlight picked out white eyeballs and teeth against dark skins. Tuthmes and his servants formed a solid clump in the front row.
Conan looked over the throng with dark foreboding. All had been orderly so far; but who knew what would happen when primitive passions were stirred? A nameless anxiety nagged at the back of his mind. As time passed, this anxiety became fixed, not on the fate of the headstrong queen, but on the Nemedian girl whom he had left at his house. He had left her with only a single servant, a black woman, because he had needed all his guardsmen to control the gathering in the square.
In the few hours he had known Diana, Conan had become much taken with her. Sweet, gentle, and perhaps even a virgin, she contrasted in every way with the fiery, tempestuous, passionate, cruel, sensual Tananda. Being Tananda's lover was certainly exciting, but after a time Conan thought he might prefer someone less stormy for a change. Knowing Tananda, he would not have put it past her to have sent one of her servants to murder Diana while Conan was otherwise occupied.
In the center of the square, the executioner blew on his Httle charcoal fire with a bellows. He held up an instrument, which glowed a bright cherry red in the dark. He approached the prisoner. Conan could not hear over the murmur of the crowd, but he knew that the executioner was asking Aahmes for details of his plot. The captive shook his head.