Chapter 3

It was a woman who had entered unannounced, a woman whose gossamer robes
did not conceal the rich garments beneath them any more than they
concealed the suppleness and beauty of her tall, slender figure. A filmy
veil fell below her breasts, supported by a flowing headdress bound
about with a triple gold braid and adorned with a golden crescent. Her
dark eyes regarded the astonished governor over the veil, and then with
an imperious gesture of her white hand, she uncovered her face.

‘Devi!’ The governor dropped to his knees before her, surprize and
confusion somewhat spoiling the stateliness of his obeisance. With a
gesture she motioned him to rise, and he hastened to lead her to the
ivory chair, all the while bowing level with his girdle. But his first
words were of reproof.

‘Your Majesty! This was most unwise! The border is unsettled. Raids from
the hills are incessant. You came with a large attendance?’

‘An ample retinue followed me to Peshkhauri,’ she answered. ‘I lodged my
people there and came on to the fort with my maid, Gitara.’

Chunder Shan groaned in horror.

‘Devi! You do not understand the peril. An hour’s ride from this spot
the hills swarm with barbarians who make a profession of murder and
rapine. Women have been stolen and men stabbed between the fort and the
city. Peshkhauri is not like your southern provinces–‘

‘But I am here, and unharmed,’ she interrupted with a trace of
impatience. ‘I showed my signet ring to the guard at the gate, and to
the one outside your door, and they admitted me unannounced, not knowing
me, but supposing me to be a secret courier from Ayodhya. Let us not now
waste time.

‘You have received no word from the chief of the barbarians?’

‘None save threats and curses, Devi. He is wary and suspicious. He deems
it a trap, and perhaps he is not to be blamed. The Kshatriyas have not
always kept their promises to the hill people.’

‘He must be brought to terms!’ broke in Yasmina, the knuckles of her
clenched hands showing white.

‘I do not understand.’ The governor shook his head. ‘When I chanced to
capture these seven hill-men, I reported their capture to the _wazam_,
as is the custom, and then, before I could hang them, there came an
order to hold them and communicate with their chief. This I did, but the
man holds aloof, as I have said. These men are of the tribe of Afghulis,
but he is a foreigner from the west, and he is called Conan. I have
threatened to hang them tomorrow at dawn, if he does not come.’

‘Good!’ exclaimed the Devi. ‘You have done well. And I will tell you why
I have given these orders. My brother–‘ she faltered, choking, and the
governor bowed his head, with the customary gesture of respect for a
departed sovereign.

‘The king of Vendhya was destroyed by magic,’ she said at last. ‘I have
devoted my life to the destruction of his murderers. As he died he gave
me a clue, and I have followed it. I have read the _Book of Skelos_, and
talked with nameless hermits in the caves below Jhelai. I learned how,
and by whom, he was destroyed. His enemies were the Black Seers of Mount
Yimsha.’

‘Asura!’ whispered Chunder Shan, paling.

Her eyes knifed him through. ‘Do you fear them?’

‘Who does not, Your Majesty?’ he replied. ‘They are black devils,
haunting the uninhabited hills beyond the Zhaibar. But the sages say
that they seldom interfere in the lives of mortal men.’

‘Why they slew my brother I do not know,’ she answered. ‘But I have
sworn on the altar of Asura to destroy them! And I need the aid of a man
beyond the border. A Kshatriya army, unaided, would never reach Yimsha.’

‘Aye,’ muttered Chunder Shan. ‘You speak the truth there. It would be
fight every step of the way, with hairy hill-men hurling down boulders
from every height, and rushing us with their long knives in every
valley. The Turanians fought their way through the Himelians once, but
how many returned to Khurusun? Few of those who escaped the swords of
the Kshatriyas, after the king, your brother, defeated their host on the
Jhumda River, ever saw Secunderam again.’

‘And so I must control men across the border,’ she said, ‘men who know
the way to Mount Yimsha–‘

‘But the tribes fear the Black Seers and shun the unholy mountain,’
broke in the governor.

‘Does the chief, Conan, fear them?’ she asked.

‘Well, as to that,’ muttered the governor, ‘I doubt if there is anything
that devil fears.’

‘So I have been told. Therefore he is the man I must deal with. He
wishes the release of his seven men. Very well; their ransom shall be
the heads of the Black Seers!’ Her voice thrummed with hate as she
uttered the last words, and her hands clenched at her sides. She looked
an image of incarnate passion as she stood there with her head thrown
high and her bosom heaving.

Again the governor knelt, for part of his wisdom was the knowledge that
a woman in such an emotional tempest is as perilous as a blind cobra to
any about her.

‘It shall be as you wish, Your Majesty.’ Then as she presented a calmer
aspect, he rose and ventured to drop a word of warning. ‘I can not
predict what the chief Conan’s action will be. The tribesmen are always
turbulent, and I have reason to believe that emissaries from the
Turanians are stirring them up to raid our borders. As your majesty
knows, the Turanians have established themselves in Secunderam and other
northern cities, though the hill tribes remain unconquered. King
Yezdigerd has long looked southward with greedy lust and perhaps is
seeking to gain by treachery what he could not win by force of arms. I
have thought that Conan might well be one of his spies.’

‘We shall see,’ she answered. ‘If he loves his followers, he will be at
the gates at dawn, to parley. I shall spend the night in the fortress. I
came in disguise to Peshkhauri, and lodged my retinue at an inn instead
of the palace. Besides my people, only yourself knows of my presence
here.’