Free Conan: Road of Kings by Karl Edward Wagner

wall that shut off the royal pleasure palace from the mainland, while other guards regularly patrolled the crest of the steep cliffs that bounded the promontory as it thrust seaward. Their presence was primarily to insure the privacy of the king and his party and to discourage thieves, rather than to repel an armed assault—Zingara was not at war, despite the internal dissensions and rivalries that gave assassins certain employ.
    As Sandokazi’s dance had reached its climax, Mordermi had signed to one of his men outside the pavilion. The man in turn had passed the signal to those who lay hidden beyond the walls.
    From the darkened trees that lined the road that led to the king’s pleasure gardens, torches suddenly flared to brightness. Angry shouts filled the night, as a disordered mob suddenly converged upon the gate. A hundred or more members of the White Rose—as close to a muster of Santiddio’s vaunted people’s army as had ever been attempted—stormed out of the night in an unruly procession, brandishing placards and chanting slogans.
    “Disperse!” commanded the captain of the guard. “Disperse at once! Do you hear!” He sent a frantic summons for the rest of his soldiers to reinforce his guards here at the gate.
    “We’ll not disperse until we’ve had an audience with King Rimanendo!” yelled back their burly leader. It was Carico, most radical of Santiddio’s rivals for leadership of the White Rose, who exulted in the prestige this night’s work would surely bring to him. “Our king and his effete nobility pass the night in drunken debauchery, while in Kordava widows and children must dine on refuse and sleep in gutters!”
    “Disperse, or I’ll send out my soldiers to crack a few heads!”
    “We’ll not disperse without an audience with Rimanendo!” Carico roared above the jeers of his comrades. “The people are starving, while the tyrant and his henchmen feast upon the blood of our land!”
    “Call out the archers!” ordered the worried captain to a subordinate, as a hail of stone and refuse began to pelt the gate. “If this disturbance reaches the attention of His Majesty, he’ll have my head!”
    Thus, even as the applause rose for Sandokazi’s dance, the soldiers who should have been posted about the wall and grounds were racing toward the melee outside the main gate. In the distance, the tumult beyond the wall did not reach the ears of those within the pavilion—no more than the soldiers who faced the angry mob at the gate were yet aware of the sudden uproar that was bringing a violent climax to the birthday revel.
    In a short time screams from the pavilion, frightened fugitives who had been at dalliance in the gardens outside would alert the soldiers at the gate to the real danger. Before they could recover, Mordermi and his band must be in flight. Holding sway over a ballroom full of drunken revellers and fainting women was an easier task than facing down a force of heavily armed soldiers.
    While Rimanendo cowered behind the protective wall of his personal guard, Mordermi’s brigands rapidly despoiled the royal guests of their valuables—working with systematic skill for all the need of haste. This had been a major court festival; lords and their ladies alike had come adorned in their most magnificent jewellery. Now costly rings, necklaces and tiaras of incalculable value, jeweled daggers and almoners bulging with gold and silver coins were stripped unceremoniously from the terrified guests, stuffed into sturdy sacks. Others quickly collected silver plates and chalices, golden trays and candelabra.
    Sandokazi, laughing excitedly behind her mask, scurried about with an open sack—speedily filling it with a fortune in gold and jewellery, while her brother stood at her side with drawn rapier. After the initial ripple of violence, there had been little resistance to the raiders. Women whimpered as they surrendered their precious ornaments, while men scowled and muttered low threats