Free Conan the Rebel by Poul Anderson Page A

still shimmered wet from the bucket of seawater she had dashed across them both. They kept swords in hand; predators who have not learned caution reach no great age.
    Before them, a cabin door suddenly swung open. The man who came forth wore the iron collar of a slave. Yet his tunic was white and clean, and he bore his slender frame with a certain elegance. Darker-hued and finer-featured than his shipmates, he seemed foreign to them.
    'Greeting,' he said calmly, and bowed his head above folded hands. The rest of his words were lost on Conan, who knew almost nothing of the Stygian language.
    Bêlit answered him in her own limited vocabulary. He smiled and broke into Shemitish, which Conan did know fairly well: 'Congratulations upon your victory, my lord and lady. In what may Otanis of Taia serve you?'
    'Huh!' grunted Conan. 'You are quick to change masters, you.'
    Otanis shrugged. 'What loyalty do I owe him who made property of me?' His gaze intensified. Yearning filled his voice. 'Perhaps you will make a man of me, in your kindness. That would earn you, in truth, the devotion that never dies.'
    Bêlit explained to Conan: 'He is a Taian. His people are not Stygians, though their land has long been a province of the kingdom, and they have often risen against their rulers. It has always been in vain, but you must admire their courage the more for that.' She addressed the other. 'What was your fate?'
    Otanis frowned. 'Once more the war arrow goes among the clans and Taia strives for her ancient freedom,' he said. 'I was captured in an engagement and sent to the slave market.'
    Conan studied him and observed shrewdly: 'You do not seem to have suffered too much.'
    'No, I was fortunate, if such a thing as good fortune can exist in a cage,' Otanis replied. 'The Stygian who bought me, a merchant of Khemi named Bahotep, has the wit to recognize that one gets more out of an animal if it is properly treated. I happen to be literate – not very common among Taians in these sad years, as my lady doubtless knows – and he put me in his counting house. Lately he appointed me his supercargo for this precious shipment. He had come to truss me, you see; besides, he charged the captain to keep me under guard while in port.' Otanis shrugged again. 'Well, if we balance the fact that he is not unkindly against the fact that he claims me for his slave, I seem to owe him nothing, good or ill. Therefore, my lord and lady, I am at your service.' He repeated his bow. 'May I ask who you are?'
    'I am Bêlit, of the corsair Tigress,' the woman said proudly, 'and this is my fellow captain Conan -' She broke off. Otanis stood agape 'What is the matter?'
    'You... are Bêlit... of Shem and the Black Coast?' he inquired.
    Light rippled along her obsidian-dark tresses as she nodded. 'Yes,' she said, 'I am Bêlit, who like you has much to avenge upon Stygia.'
    'Why, I – I know your brother,' Otanis stammered.
    Bêlit stiffened. 'What?' she said in a shuddering breath.
    'Yes, Jehanan, is he not your brother? How often and with what has he told me of you.'
    Bêlit's sword clattered to the deck. She seized Otanis by the arm. Her nails dug into his flesh till he winced. He stood fast, hough, which Conan liked. The Cimmerian's own broad palm lay on the shoulder of his beloved. Beneath the silken skin, he felt her flesh tensed and shivered.
    'Tell me!' she commanded. 'Tell me everything!'
    'Why... well, there is a great deal,' Otanis said hesitantly. 'We became close friends, he and I.'
    'He is no longer the victim of that Ramwas beast?' she cried.
    Otanis shook his head. 'No. He is not.'After a search for words, he proceeded: 'He has told me how Ramwas bought you both, and you apparently got away. He dared hope for no more than that you met a decent death. How overjoyed he would be to see you here, queen of battle! But in any case, Jehanan had made such trouble on his own that Ramwas decided to get rid of him and put him up for sale. My master Bahotep bought him.