A Witch Shall Be Born Read online

  4 Wolves of the Desert

  Olgerd Vladislav filled his jeweled goblet with crimson wine from agolden jug and thrust the vessel across the ebony table to Conan theCimmerian. Olgerd's apparel would have satisfied the vanity of anyZaporoskan hetman.

  His _khalat_ was of white silk, with pearls sewn on the bosom. Girdledat the waist with a Bakhauriot belt, its skirts were drawn back toreveal his wide silken breeches, tucked into short boots of soft greenleather, adorned with gold thread. On his head was a green silk turban,wound about a spired helmet chased with gold. His only weapon was abroad curved Cherkees knife in an ivory sheath girdled high on his lefthip, _kozak_ fashion. Throwing himself back in his gilded chair with itscarven eagles, Olgerd spread his booted legs before him, and gulped downthe sparkling wine noisily.

  To his splendor the huge Cimmerian opposite him offered a strongcontrast, with his square-cut black mane, brown scarred countenance andburning blue eyes. He was clad in black mesh-mail, and the only glitterabout him was the broad gold buckle of the belt which supported hissword in its worn leather scabbard.

  They were alone in the silk-walled tent, which was hung with gilt-workedtapestries and littered with rich carpets and velvet cushions, the lootof the caravans. From outside came a low, incessant murmur, the soundthat always accompanies a great throng of men, in camp or otherwise. Anoccasional gust of desert wind rattled the palm-leaves.

  'Today in the shadow, tomorrow in the sun,' quoth Olgerd, loosening hiscrimson girdle a trifle and reaching again for the wine-jug. 'That's theway of life. Once I was a hetman on the Zaporoska; now I'm a desertchief. Seven months ago you were hanging on a cross outside Khauran. Nowyou're lieutenant to the most powerful raider between Turan and thewestern meadows. You should be thankful to me!'

  'For recognizing my usefulness?' Conan laughed and lifted the jug. 'Whenyou allow the elevation of a man, one can be sure that you'll profit byhis advancement. I've earned everything I've won, with my blood andsweat.' He glanced at the scars on the insides of his palms. There werescars, too, on his body, scars that had not been there seven months ago.

  'You fight like a regiment of devils,' conceded Olgerd. 'But don't getto thinking that you've had anything to do with the recruits who'veswarmed in to join us. It was our success at raiding, guided by my wit,that brought them in. These nomads are always looking for a successfulleader to follow, and they have more faith in a foreigner than in one oftheir own race.

  'There's no limit to what we may accomplish! We have eleven thousand mennow. In another year we may have three times that number. We'vecontented ourselves, so far, with raids on the Turanian outposts and thecity-states to the west. With thirty or forty thousand men we'll raid nolonger. We'll invade and conquer and establish ourselves as rulers. I'llbe emperor of all Shem yet, and you'll be my vizier, so long as youcarry out my orders unquestioningly. In the meantime, I think we'll rideeastward and storm that Turanian outpost at Vezek, where the caravanspay toll.'

  Conan shook his head. 'I think not.'

  Olgerd glared, his quick temper irritated.

  'What do you mean, _you_ think not? I do the thinking for this army!'

  'There are enough men in this band now for my purpose,' answered theCimmerian. 'I'm sick of waiting. I have a score to settle.'

  'Oh!' Olgerd scowled, and gulped wine, then grinned. 'Still thinking ofthat cross, eh? Well, I like a good hater. But that can wait.'

  'You told me once you'd aid me in taking Khauran,' said Conan.

  'Yes, but that was before I began to see the full possibilities of ourpower,' answered Olgerd. 'I was only thinking of the loot in the city. Idon't want to waste our strength unprofitably. Khauran is too strong anut for us to crack now. Maybe in a year--'

  'Within the week,' answered Conan, and the _kozak_ stared at thecertainty in his voice.

  'Listen,' said Olgerd, 'even if I were willing to throw away men on sucha hare-brained attempt--what could you expect? Do you think these wolvescould besiege and take a city like Khauran?'

  'There'll be no siege,' answered the Cimmerian. 'I know how to drawConstantius out into the plain.'

  'And what then?' cried Olgerd with an oath. 'In the arrow-play ourhorsemen would have the worst of it, for the armor of the _asshuri_ isthe better, and when it came to sword-strokes their close-marshaledranks of trained swordsmen would cleave through our loose lines andscatter our men like chaff before the wind.'

  'Not if there were three thousand desperate Hyborian horsemen fightingin a solid wedge such as I could teach them,' answered Conan.

  'And where would you secure three thousand Hyborians?' asked Olgerd withvast sarcasm. 'Will you conjure them out of the air?'

  'I _have_ them,' answered the Cimmerian imperturbably. 'Three thousandmen of Khauran camp at the oasis of Akrel awaiting my orders.'

  '_What?_' Olgerd glared like a startled wolf.

  'Aye. Men who had fled from the tyranny of Constantius. Most of themhave been living the lives of outlaws in the deserts east of Khauran,and are gaunt and hard and desperate as man-eating tigers. One of themwill be a match for any three squat mercenaries. It takes oppression andhardship to stiffen men's guts and put the fire of hell into theirthews. They were broken up into small bands; all they needed was aleader. They believed the word I sent them by my riders, and assembledat the oasis and put themselves at my disposal.'

  'All this without my knowledge?' A feral light began to gleam inOlgerd's eye. He hitched at his weapon-girdle.

  'It was _I_ they wished to follow, not _you_.'

  'And what did you tell these outcasts to gain their allegiance?' Therewas a dangerous ring in Olgerd's voice.

  'I told them that I'd use this horde of desert wolves to help themdestroy Constantius and give Khauran back into the hands of itscitizens.'

  'You fool!' whispered Olgerd. 'Do you deem yourself chief already?'

  The men were on their feet, facing each other across the ebony board,devil-lights dancing in Olgerd's cold gray eyes, a grim smile on theCimmerian's hard lips.

  'I'll have you torn between four palm-trees,' said the _kozak_ calmly.

  'Call the men and bid them do it!' challenged Conan. 'See if they obeyyou!'

  Baring his teeth in a snarl, Olgerd lifted his hand--then paused. Therewas something about the confidence in the Cimmerian's dark face thatshook him. His eyes began to burn like those of a wolf.

  'You scum of the western hills,' he muttered, 'have you dared seek toundermine my power?'

  'I didn't have to,' answered Conan. 'You lied when you said I hadnothing to do with bringing in the new recruits. I had everything to dowith it. They took your orders, but they fought for me. There is notroom for two chiefs of the Zuagirs. They know I am the stronger man. Iunderstand them better than you, and they, me; because I am a barbariantoo.'

  'And what will they say when you ask them to fight for Khauran?' askedOlgerd sardonically.

  'They'll follow me. I'll promise them a camel-train of gold from thepalace. Khauran will be willing to pay that as a guerdon for getting ridof Constantius. After that, I'll lead them against the Turanians as youhave planned. They want loot, and they'd as soon fight Constantius forit as anybody.'

  In Olgerd's eyes grew a recognition of defeat. In his red dreams ofempire he had missed what was going on about him. Happenings and eventsthat had seemed meaningless before now flashed into his mind, with theirtrue significance, bringing a realization that Conan spoke no idleboast. The giant black-mailed figure before him was the real chief ofthe Zuagirs.

  'Not if you die!' muttered Olgerd, and his hand flickered toward hishilt. But quick as the stroke of a great cat, Conan's arm shot acrossthe table and his fingers locked on Olgerd's forearm. There was a snapof breaking bones, and for a tense instant the scene held: the menfacing each other as motionless as images, perspiration starting out onOlgerd's forehead. Conan laughed, never easing his grip on the brokenarm.

  'Are you fit to live, Olgerd?'

  His smile did not alter as the c
orded muscles rippled in knotting ridgesalong his forearm and his fingers ground into the _kozak's_ quiveringflesh. There was the sound of broken bones grating together and Olgerd'sface turned the color of ashes; blood oozed from his lip where his teethsank, but he uttered no sound.

  With a laugh Conan released him and drew back, and the _kozak_ swayed,caught the table edge with his good hand to steady himself.

  'I give you life, Olgerd, as you gave it to me,' said Conan tranquilly,'though it was for your own ends that you took me down from the cross.It was a bitter test you gave me then; you couldn't have endured it;neither could anyone, but a western barbarian.

  'Take your horse and go. It's tied behind the tent, and food and waterare in the saddle-bags. None will see your going, but go quickly.There's no room for a fallen chief on the desert. If the warriors seeyou, maimed and deposed, they'll never let you leave the camp alive.'

  Olgerd did not reply. Slowly, without a word, he turned and stalkedacross the tent, through the flapped opening. Unspeaking he climbed intothe saddle of the great white stallion that stood tethered there in theshade of a spreading palm-tree; and unspeaking, with his broken armthrust in the bosom of his _khalat_, he reined the steed about and rodeeastward into the open desert, out of the life of the people of theZuagir.

  Inside the tent Conan emptied the wine-jug and smacked his lips withrelish. Tossing the empty vessel into a corner, he braced his belt andstrode out through the front opening, halting for a moment to let hisgaze sweep over the lines of camel-hair tents that stretched before him,and the white-robed figures that moved among them, arguing, singing,mending bridles or whetting tulwars.

  He lifted his voice in a thunder that carried to the farthest confinesof the encampment: '_Aie_, you dogs, sharpen your ears and listen!Gather around here. I have a tale to tell you.'