He felt like a guy in a revolving door. Starke got the sea men in
focus. He saw that they were afraid now, doubtful and nervous. "I'll be
dead in a minute," said Starke. "Promise me the safety of Crom Dhu and
I'll die without telling Rann a thing."
The sea shepherd hesitated, then raised his palm upward. "I promise,"
he said. "Crom Dhu will go untouched."
Starke sighed. He let his head fall forward until it hit the floor.
Then he rolled over, put his hands over his eyes. "It's a deal. Go give
Rann hell for me, will you, boys? Give her hell!"
As he drifted into mind darkness, Rann waited for him. Feebly, he told
her. "Okay, duchess. You'd kill me even if I'd told you the idea. I'm
ready. Try your god-awfullest to shove me back into that stinking body
of mine. I'll fight you all the way there!"
Rann screamed. It was a pretty frustrated scream. Then the pains began.
She did a lot of work on his mind in the next minute.
That part of him that was Conan held on like a clam holding to its
precious contents.
The odor of putrid flesh returned. The blood mist returned. The flame
birds fell down at him in spirals of sparks and blistering smoke, to
winnow his naked ribs.
Starke spoke one last word before the blackness took him.
"Beudag."
* * * * *
He never expected to awaken again.
He awoke just the same.
There was red sea all around him. He lay on a kind of stone bed, and
the young sea shepherd sat beside him, looking down at him, smiling
delicately.
Starke did not dare move for a while. He was afraid his head might
fall off and whirl away like a big fish, using its ears as propellers.
"Lord," he muttered, barely turning his head.