The Sword of Skelos Read Online Free Page A

gold, and I am here. Why did you want me brought to you?”
    The Iranistani’s left hand left his goblet, and the table. “Leave the dagger alone,” Conan said. “I’ll have mine through you before you have a good grasp on the hilt.”
    A hip-swinging young woman in two beaded strips of scarlet cloth sewn with green thread appeared beside Conan, with wine for both of them. The two men did not look at her. She went off tight-lipped, noting how interested the pair seemed in each other. She saw all kinds.
    “You are Conan, a Cimmerian.”
    “I am. You are of Iranistan, far and far from here. You have traced me up here from Arenjun. Your name?”
    “You Cimmerians are called barbarians. How is it then that you come to me and ask my name, rather than wait outside to kill me when I leave this place?”
    “We Cimmerians are also curious, and known to give way to whims. Too, had we heard of Iranistan up in Cimmeria, we’d have called
you
barbarians, because you are not Cimmerians.”
    The man smiled and leaned back. “My name is Khassek. Did Ajhindar in truth die as you say?”
    Staring directly into Khassek’s eyes, Conan said, “He did.”
    “You know… Crom take me if I don’t believe you!”
    “Crom! You swear by the grim Lord of the Mound?”
    Khassek smiled. “I have been learning all I could of Cimmeria.”
    “And of me. Looking for me. Preparing to question me.”
    “Aye, Conan. I would even bargain with you. You and Ajhindar both sought a particular… prize. I believe you have it.”
    “Naturally I don’t know what you are talking about.” Conan sipped his wine. “You are paying, by the way. Is this thing you seek of some value, back in Iranistan?”
    “You know that it is, Conan.”
    “Why?”
    A group of people across the inn erupted into loud laughter. Khassek gazed at Conan for a long while. At last he came forward, with both elbows thumping onto the table. “I believe,” he said, “that I shall tell you.”
    “Name this prize you mention,” Conan said blandly. “A jewel?”
    “Several,” Khassek said. “They form an amulet of far, far more value than your ring and that bit of earth and glass about your neck, Conan. Were the amulet called the Eye of Erlik placed in the hands of my khan, you could wear a gold one there, set with rubies… unless you prefer emeralds.”
    “A god’s
eye
?”
    “That is only the amulet’s name.”
    “A yellow stone or two, perhaps.”
    Knowing that Conan was hazarding no idle guess, Khassek only nodded.
    Conan toyed with his wine mug. “A valuable amulet indeed. And he would give me one as valuable, your Khan.”
    “More valuable, to you. Give listen Conan, Cimmerian. That amulet is important to the Khan of Zamboula. You probably know that. Zamboula lies between here and Iranistan. You have been there?”
    Conan shook his head. “I am only a hill-country youth,” he said disengagingly.
    “Who wears a tunic made in Khauran, I believe.”
    “You have been astudying, Khassek! No, I have not been to Zamboula, and a month or so ago I had never heard of Iranistan. It lies beyond Zamboula, you say? That is very far.”
    “I believe you know that it does. Iranistan plans no war on Zamboula, and no harm to its ruler, who is a satrap of mighty Turan. With the Eye of Erlik in his possession, though, my khan could negotiate a far better trade arrangement with Zamboula. That is our goal.”
    “Perhaps,” Conan said. “As you thought the amulet was in the hands of a mage, and as Ajhindar sought it there… perhaps it is a sorcerous thing, a thing that will enable your ruler to torture or slay Zamboula’s worthy khan, from a distance.”
    “Conan, it is not—as Zamboula’s khan is not worthy. Yet, even if it were so… does that concern you? I tell you that there is a rich reward for you if you aid me in placing the Eye of Erlik into my khan’s hands.”
    “Two months away!”
    “You have pressing business in Shadizar, Conan?”
    “You are right,”