Conan The Freelance by Steve Perry

she, was altogether naked. And he was feeling rather tired.
    The queen smiled at him. “Ah, my stalwart man arises yet again.”
    Conan stared at her. His thoughts were muddled. She had drugged him, he recalled. And she must have had him taken to her chambers.
    “You have been magnificent,” she said, touched his shoulder with her fingertips. “None has ever done better.”
    “I have done nothing,” Conan managed.
    “You are too modest. Surely you recall?”
    “I recall you flinging a powder into my face.”
    “And nothing since? Ah, if that was how you behaved when asleep, I cannot help but wonder how much better you shall do when awake!”
    Conan shook his head, trying to clear it. What was she talking about?
    The queen then rolled toward him, and showed him exactly what she meant.
    Kleg called for the curses of ten thousand gods to fall upon the lizard men, but he had no intention of stopping to see if the imprecation worked. At first he thought to hide, that surely a single selkie would be more difficult to find than a dozen, but given the unknown tracking abilities of the lizards, he decided not to chance it. No, speed would be his best ally. One selkie could certainly move as fast as a troop of lizards, especially given that the lizards sought only booty, while the selkie ran for his skin.
    Kleg wove his way through the thick forest as the day wore down to night, and while he saved his breath for his physical efforts, his mind continued to conjure up curses against his chasers.
    Conan arose from the queen’s bed, not a little tired himself, and found his clothes. The effects of the drug had long since worn off, but the queen finally slept.
    He found his sword under a cushion that had been thrown. across the room earlier. Likely there were guards posted without, but obviously they had been instructed not to enter the chamber unless specifically called upon to do so; had mere noise been the signal, they would have burst in on Conan and the queen half a dozen times already.
    Conan grinned. He could not say that his visit with the lizard woman had been unpleasant; indeed, he found it most difficult to think of her as other than a human woman, given her actions thus far.
    Conan stuck his head through the chamber’s opening. There were two guards, one on either side of the door. Softly, the Cimmerian said, “Hark, the queen wishes to convey a message.” His voice was little more than a confidential whisper.
    The two guards looked at each other, then back at Conan.
    Conan waved them closer, grinning like a conspirator.
    The two grinned, doubtless thinking themselves men of the world, and leaned toward Conan.
    The Cimmerian grabbed each guard by the neck and slammed their heads together, hard. There came a sound like a gourd dropped on stone. When he released the guards, they fell like pole-axed oxen.
    Conan hurried down the hallway to fetch Hok.
    When Thayla awoke, she did so smiling. Who would have thought … ?
    Where was he?
    She sat up abruptly. Conan was gone! How had he gotten out?
    “Guards! To me!”
    Nothing happened. Thayla leaped up and ran to the doorway.
    The two guards lay sprawled on the cavern floor unconscious.
    By the Great Dragon!
    “To arms!” Thayla screamed. She had to find him, and quickly. It would not do to have a human running around who might speak of his actions with the Queen of the Pili, especially when such speech might reach the wrong ears.
    Her husband’s ears.
    “To arms! “
    Conan ran across the desert to the east, the boy Hok next to him.
    “But how did you escape?” Hok asked. “Did you smite the queen with your sword?”
    “Save your breath for running, boy.”
    “It takes no breath to listen.”
    “Ask your sister when you see her. Better still, ask your brother, Tair.”
    If he continued moving through the night, Kleg would reach the village of Karatas on the Home Lake early the next day. Once there, he would be safe, for although the village was peopled largely