hidden fortress without hindrance from your formidable crew of cutthroats. I can stroll out again—taking your treasure with me, if I needed such trifles. But my design is to seize a kingdom, not to snarl amidst the other dogs for the bones that are tossed from the king’s table.”
“All very bold, this design of yours,” Mordermi said. “But I fail to see why we need a renegade Stygian sorcerer to help us carry it out. One wonders that a man of your self-proclaimed abilities should spend his days here in the Pit.”
Callidios made a lopsided shrug. “As you have guessed, it would not be good for me to return to Stygia. Nor am I any lord of the Black Ring, or you’d not see me in this low state. But I have my reasons for biding my days prowling about the Pit.”
He poured himself a chalice of wine as he talked, fell back into his chair, somehow without spilling a drop of wine.
“My father was a priest of Set; my mother was an Æsir slave who was purchased to perform some central functions in a certain sacrificial rite. She was beautiful, my father lusted for her, and in a short time she was no longer acceptable for any ritual of virgin sacrifice. My father was powerful enough to escape discipline for his actions, but not disgrace. When I was born not long afterward, his enemies considered me beneath their attentions, while my father saw me as a reminder of his fall from grace.
“My mother died. I was allowed to wander about the temples like a wild thing—tolerated much the way a stray dog is given run of a kitchen, so long as he remains unobtrusive. I learned many things in the temples of Set—absorbing secrets and forbidden knowledge just as a stray seeks out crumbs and scraps unnoticed by its indifferent keepers. In time it became essential for me to depart from Stygia, but not before I had mastered sufficient powers to make good my escape. That I sit here before you now is proof that I do not make idle boast.
“From Luxur I fled to Khemi, and there took ship to Kordava. For some weeks now I have lived here in the Pit, but not because I sought to hide—this buried city would be no refuge against those who would seek me out if they could. Rather, I came to the Pit seeking to find certain things of which I had knowledge. I found that which I sought, but was uncertain what use to make of my knowledge. Of course, every citizen of the Pit knows of the daring exploits of Mordermi. Once I learned of last night’s little coup, I saw how we two might serve one another to considerable mutual advantage.”
“Callidios, I’ll say this,” Mordermi laughed. “For a self-taught sorcerer, you have as much effrontery as any rogue I’ve known. If your spells were half as alluring as your words, you’d rule Stygia today. Still, there’s some sense in what you’ve said, and I can always use another clever rogue in my band. Can you really use that sword, or do you first ensorcell your opponents to sleep before running them through?”
“As to that, I really can’t judge,” Callidios said quietly. “But I can raise an army of swordsmen no human opponent would care to face.”
“An army?” Mordermi wondered if he should laugh. There was an icy confidence to Callidios’ tone that no longer struck him as amusing.
“An army that I can summon forth by my secret knowledge,” Callidios told him. “Just as you can summon an army by means of the wealth you have stolen. Shall we be allies, Mordermi, you and I?”
Mordant laughter flickered in those gray-green eyes, so that Mordermi wondered suddenly which of them played the fool.
Eight
A Morning Swim
The sea washed sluggishly against the snarl of rotted piers. At a distance, Conan could hear the roll of bells. He watched Sandokazi as she thrust her bare legs into the leaden waters, and wondered whether this could be heaven or might be hell.
“We’ll need a boat,” Callidios had said. “And someone to row it. And someone who’s a strong swimmer.”
Conan
“All very bold, this design of yours,” Mordermi said. “But I fail to see why we need a renegade Stygian sorcerer to help us carry it out. One wonders that a man of your self-proclaimed abilities should spend his days here in the Pit.”
Callidios made a lopsided shrug. “As you have guessed, it would not be good for me to return to Stygia. Nor am I any lord of the Black Ring, or you’d not see me in this low state. But I have my reasons for biding my days prowling about the Pit.”
He poured himself a chalice of wine as he talked, fell back into his chair, somehow without spilling a drop of wine.
“My father was a priest of Set; my mother was an Æsir slave who was purchased to perform some central functions in a certain sacrificial rite. She was beautiful, my father lusted for her, and in a short time she was no longer acceptable for any ritual of virgin sacrifice. My father was powerful enough to escape discipline for his actions, but not disgrace. When I was born not long afterward, his enemies considered me beneath their attentions, while my father saw me as a reminder of his fall from grace.
“My mother died. I was allowed to wander about the temples like a wild thing—tolerated much the way a stray dog is given run of a kitchen, so long as he remains unobtrusive. I learned many things in the temples of Set—absorbing secrets and forbidden knowledge just as a stray seeks out crumbs and scraps unnoticed by its indifferent keepers. In time it became essential for me to depart from Stygia, but not before I had mastered sufficient powers to make good my escape. That I sit here before you now is proof that I do not make idle boast.
“From Luxur I fled to Khemi, and there took ship to Kordava. For some weeks now I have lived here in the Pit, but not because I sought to hide—this buried city would be no refuge against those who would seek me out if they could. Rather, I came to the Pit seeking to find certain things of which I had knowledge. I found that which I sought, but was uncertain what use to make of my knowledge. Of course, every citizen of the Pit knows of the daring exploits of Mordermi. Once I learned of last night’s little coup, I saw how we two might serve one another to considerable mutual advantage.”
“Callidios, I’ll say this,” Mordermi laughed. “For a self-taught sorcerer, you have as much effrontery as any rogue I’ve known. If your spells were half as alluring as your words, you’d rule Stygia today. Still, there’s some sense in what you’ve said, and I can always use another clever rogue in my band. Can you really use that sword, or do you first ensorcell your opponents to sleep before running them through?”
“As to that, I really can’t judge,” Callidios said quietly. “But I can raise an army of swordsmen no human opponent would care to face.”
“An army?” Mordermi wondered if he should laugh. There was an icy confidence to Callidios’ tone that no longer struck him as amusing.
“An army that I can summon forth by my secret knowledge,” Callidios told him. “Just as you can summon an army by means of the wealth you have stolen. Shall we be allies, Mordermi, you and I?”
Mordant laughter flickered in those gray-green eyes, so that Mordermi wondered suddenly which of them played the fool.
Eight
A Morning Swim
The sea washed sluggishly against the snarl of rotted piers. At a distance, Conan could hear the roll of bells. He watched Sandokazi as she thrust her bare legs into the leaden waters, and wondered whether this could be heaven or might be hell.
“We’ll need a boat,” Callidios had said. “And someone to row it. And someone who’s a strong swimmer.”
Conan
Similar Books
