Conan The Hero by Leonard Carpenter Read Free Book Online Page B

comforts I have offered—is the wench unsatisfactory? Shall I send her off and fetch you a woman of fuller shape, perhaps, or of more worldly experience?”
    “No, Sire!” Abolhassan arose from the bench, flushed with irritation at the shameless questioning. “It is only that I am accustomed to harsh military regimen, Sire—a hard, narrow bed, as they say, and pleasure taken only rarely, in a caravanserai on the eve of battle, or amid the flames and ruins of a conquered city.”
    “I see.” Yildiz nodded understandingly. “You would prefer a boy, then?” Observing his general’s pale, clenching face, the emperor resumed swiftly, “Very well, Abolhassan, please yourself.” He gestured the cringing maidservant out of the room and continued speaking.
    “The last and most farfetched rumor whispered by my informants is that the entire Venji campaign is an unwarranted distraction, a mere excuse of self-seeking officers to strengthen their hand at the expense of more homely needs—roads, canals, and so forth. The implication seems to be that this heightened military power is somehow to be used to weaken my reign.” Yildiz paused a moment to redirect the efforts of his browsing concubines. “Of course, the devotion of my staff officers is unquestioned. Therefore, I am puzzled; can you tell me how such a misconception might have arisen? Could it have anything to do with the foreign regiments we have taken into our ranks in the course of imperial expansion? Or with regional rivalries, perhaps? Are there rumblings of revolt in any of the home provinces?”
    Abolhassan, standing pike-straight, glared down at his supine inquisitor. “Naturally, Emperor, such damaging allegations are too serious to be regarded lightly, or dismissed in a single interview! I give you my sacred oath to explore any hint of these offenses further and, if there is truth to them, take the necessary action. I thank my gracious commander for raising this concern, along with the other problems we discussed. I bid milord good day!” The general spun on his heels, heading for the exit with strides whose tremors set the mercury pool shimmering, and whose velocity scarcely allowed for a further recall.
    As it happened, Yildiz’s voice drifted after the departing general in offhanded farewell. “Good day, General. Oh, and Abolhassan, keep me apprised of the fortunes of that young foreigner Conan! He seems the sort who might someday be put to a higher use.”
    That same night the general attended another audience, this one in less lavish surroundings. It was in a small, anonymous chamber buried somewhere in the vast warren of the palace, lacking windows, pillars, or hangings—notable, indeed, for its bare functionality and absence of any concealment for prying eyes and ears. There were only the dark blue-plastered walls, a single door, smooth-paneled and tightly bolted, a low table, cushions, an oil lamp. Yet the words spoken here were at first so low and guarded, and the sidelong glances so furtive and frequent, that the room might as well have been the earhole of Emperor Yildiz himself; such was the rumor-bearing reputation of the Imperial Court at Aghrapur.
    The monarch of the scene, by his size and splendor if not by rank, was the eunuch, Dashibt Bey. He sat by necessity at the center of one long face of the rectangular table, nearly spanning its length with his own breadth, spreading his bulk across two of the thick cushions. Golden lamplight picked out highlights in the numerous gems and clasps of his costume; it played along the iridescent folds of silken turban, sash, and cummerbund, making their wearer seem a greater source of light than the feeble, wavering flame itself. Though the great functionary would doubtless have preferred a full meal, the privacy and secrecy of the gathering had restricted him to bringing along only a gilded basket, from which he periodically plucked ripe fruit to devour while he listened to General Abolhassan’s