Conan The Destroyer by Robert Jordan Read Free Book Online Page B

the air of the plains, child. Distances seem nothing to the eye. The mountains are many leagues distant yet.”
    Jehnna thought of asking for another drink of water, but she had seen Bombatta eyeing the waterskins after her last drink, weighing what remained. He had taken only two drinks since waking. Her eyes went to Conan, leading them, with the packhorse’s rope tied to his saddle. The northlander had taken one swallow of water on waking and had not looked at the waterbags since. Now he rode easily, one hand resting lightly on his sword hilt, eyes always searching ahead, apparently not even noticing that the sun had broiled them since dawn and was still not halfway to its zenith.
    What a strange young man he was, she thought, though she had little with which to make comparison. He was no older than her, she was sure, but his eyes—such a peculiar color for eyes, blue—seemed unimaginably older. Thirst did not bother him, nor the heat. Could anything slow him? Rain, or wind, or snow? She had heard stories about snow in the mountains, piled as high as a palace. No, she was certain he would go on, deterred by nothing. Perhaps that was why her aunt had sent him. Perhaps he was a hero, a prince in disguise, as in the stories some of the serving girls told her when her aunt was not there.
    She shot a glance at Bombatta from the corner of her eye. “Is he handsome, Bombatta?”
    “Is who handsome?” he asked gruffly.
    “Conan.”
    His head swiveled toward her; for an instant she was afraid again. “You should not think of such things.” His voice was hard, with no trace of the gentleness he usually had with her. “Especially not about him.”
    “Do not be mad at me, Bombatta,” she pleaded. “I love you, and I do not want you to ever be angry with me.”
    A pained look flashed across his face. “I … love you, too, Jehnna. I am not angry with you. It is just that … . Do not think about the thief. Put him from your mind entirely. That is best.”
    “I do not see how I can do that, when he rides with us. Besides, Bombatta, I think perhaps he is handsome, as in the stories about princes.”
    “He is no prince,” Bombatta snorted.
    Jehnna felt a flash of disappointment, but went on. “Even so, I think he is. Handsome, I mean. But I have no one to compare him with, save you and the male slaves and servants in Taramis’ palace, and I cannot see any of them as handsome. They are always kneeling and bowing and groveling.” Bombatta’s face had been growing harder as she spoke; she hunted among her words for something that might have offended him. “Oh, of course you are handsome, Bombatta. I did not mean to imply that you are not.”
    The big man’s teeth ground audibly. “I told you not to think of such things.”
    “He is bigger than any of the slaves. He’s almost as big as you, Bombatta. Do you think he is as strong as you? Perhaps that is why Taramis sent him with us, because he is as strong as you, and as brave as you, and as great a warrior.”
    “Jehnna!”
    She jumped in her saddle, and stared. He had never shouted at her before. Never.
    Breathing hard, he rode with one fist on his hip. staring straight ahead. Finally he said, “This Conan is a thief, child. Only a thief, and no more. The Princess Taramis had her own reasons for sending him with us. It is not for me to question them, nor for you.”
    Jehnna chewed at her lip as she mulled over what she had just learned. When Taramis told her the day for her journey had come, she had been overjoyed. It meant the fullfilling of her destiny. She would find the Horn of Dagoth and return it to her aunt, and great honor would be bestowed on her. But if Conan was a thief, and Taramis had sent him with them … .
    “Bombatta, are we going to steal the Horn of Dagoth?”
    He made a chopping motion with his hand, and looked quickly toward Conan. The blue-eyed young giant still rode before them, too far ahead to hear words that were not shouted. From the