'I don't ask you to,' returned Kerim Shah. 'We both want the Devi. You
know my reason; King Yezdigerd desires to add her kingdom to his empire,
and herself in his seraglio. And I knew you, in the days when you were a
hetman of the _kozak_ steppes; so I know your ambition is wholesale
plunder. You want to loot Vendhya, and to twist out a huge ransom for
Yasmina. Well, let us for the time being, without any illusion about
each other, unite our forces, and try to rescue the Devi from the Seers.
If we succeed, and live, we can fight it out to see who keeps her.'
Conan narrowly scrutinized the other for a moment, and then nodded,
releasing the Turanian's arm. 'Agreed; what about your men?'
Kerim Shah turned to the silent Irakzai and spoke briefly: 'This chief
and I are going to Yimsha to fight the wizards. Will you go with us, or
stay here to be flayed by the Afghulis who are following this man?'
They looked at him with eyes grimly fatalistic. They were doomed and
they knew it--had known it ever since the singing arrows of the ambushed
Dagozai had driven them back from the pass of Shalizah. The men of the
lower Zhaibar had too many reeking bloodfeuds among the crag-dwellers.
They were too small a band to fight their way back through the hills to
the villages of the border, without the guidance of the crafty Turanian.
They counted themselves as dead already, so they made the reply that
only dead men would make: 'We will go with thee and die on Yimsha.'
'Then in Crom's name let us be gone,' grunted Conan, fidgeting with
impatience as he started into the blue gulfs of the deepening twilight.
'My wolves were hours behind me, but we've lost a devilish lot of time.'
Kerim Shah backed his steed from between the black stallion and the
cliff, sheathed his sword and cautiously turned the horse. Presently the
band was filing up the path as swiftly as they dared. They came out upon
the crest nearly a mile east of the spot where Khemsa had halted the
Cimmerian and the Devi. The path they had traversed was a perilous one,
even for hill-men, and for that reason Conan had avoided it that day
when carrying Yasmina, though Kerim Shah, following him, had taken it
supposing the Cimmerian had done likewise. Even Conan sighed with relief
when the horses scrambled up over the last rim. They moved like phantom
riders through an enchanted realm of shadows. The soft creak of leather,
the clink of steel marked their passing, then again the dark mountain
slopes lay naked and silent in the starlight.