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and foot-driven knives. The duel closed to a tight grapple marked by short, sharp stabs and desperate kicks. In this earth-rooted struggle, body to body and hand to throat, the warrior whose straining toes were encumbered by metal knife-hasps discovered a disadvantage.
    The fighters strained together, crouching low over the ground, and a pair of crescent daggers fell to earth. Slowly, inexorably the red assassin’s slimmer torso was borne uppermost in the knot of striving flesh, arching skyward even as it bent sharply back on itself. A surge of effort tightened the human knot, and a pair of brittle snaps sounded, loud as whipcracks across the dwindling circle of onlookers. There followed a flurry of directionless kicks and twitches, then the strangler’s body flopped to earth, rebounding there with unnatural limpness. A black shadow fell across its lifeless disarray as Conan flexed upright, panting and bleeding, scanning the crowd for any other ill-wishers.
    The soldiers’ frenzied excitement at the fight’s outcome threatened to cause a brawl or draw high-ranking attention; as they stood milling and haggling over bets, Conan shook off the lingering pain of the fight and moved deliberately. Striding to Sariya, he clasped an arm across her sun-warm back and pressed a long, probing kiss on her upturned mouth, marking her publicly as his own. Whoops and catcalls from the onlookers told him that his claim had been duly noted. Sweeping the crowd with his defiant gaze, Conan drew the slender girl alongside him. Flanked by his friends, they started away.
    “Go carefully from this hour, Conan.” Babrak’s warning was low and grim in his ear. “You have not finished your business with the Red Garrotes; they would slay any outsider to avenge even the least-regarded member of their band.”
    “Aye, Conan.” Juma shook his head in mock consternation. “Did you really have to kill him in public like that? Now I hardly feel safe strolling with you.”
    Conan led them around the end of a barrack where, out of the mob’s sight, they quickened their pace. “The fight was necessary to serve notice. That fool’s death bought Sariya’s life. Now any who covet her know they must answer to me first.” He led the group toward the timber gate of the inner palisade. “We can take a hut in the village compound, where the officers live with their women.” He kept Sariya close by his side as they walked. “Like it or not, girl, we are together—but I swear I will not force myself on you.”
    She was inspecting his injured palm, cradling it between her slim hands. Her accent was as exotic and lilting as he recalled. “My poor, great mongoose, we must be sure that this heals well!” She met his eyes with a frank look. “In all Venjipur there could be no better champion, Conan. I will show you my gratitude.”
     

Chapter 4
The Silver Pool
    The gong sent ripples of brazen sound shimmering from the mosaic vaultings of the imperial chamber. The armed guard who had struck it waited until he saw the emperor’s perfunctory wave of dismissal, then turned and vanished outside the curtained archway. General Abolhassan, whom the still-chiming stroke had heralded, stepped reluctantly forward.
    “Your Resplendency, the news I have is not of surpassing urgency. I did not realize that you were… occupied. If it pleases, I can attend you later—”
    “Nay, not at all, General! I bid you stay.” Yildiz addressed his visitor from his bed at the center of the chamber, where he lay disporting with harem concubines. “Step forward and state your business.”
    “Lord, I wished only to furnish you the latest intelligence from Venjipur; it confirms our suppositions in the matter of the wizard Ibn Uluthan’s recent failure. ‘Tis of no great timeliness, and could easily be postponed…” As he moved nearer, casting reluctant eyes on his emperor’s lush relaxations, his voice trailed off indecisively.
    The imperial bed was a thin velvet bolster