rh.conanthewarrior-第26部分

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sdom　on　the　paths　of　thy　servants！　Tell　us；　O　mouthpiece　of　the　gods：　what　is　their　will　concerning　Thutmekri　the　Stygian？〃
　　The　high…piled　burnished　mass　of　hair　that　caught　the　torchlight　in　dull　bronze　gleams　quivered　slightly。　A　gusty　sigh　rose　from　the　blacks；　half　in　awe；　half　in　fear。　Muriela's　voice　came　plainly　to　Conan's　ears　in　the　breathless　silence；　and　it　seemed　cold；　detached；　impresonal；　though　he　winced　at　the　Corinthian　accent。
　　〃It　is　the　will　of　the　gods　that　the　Stygian　and　his　Shemitish　dogs　be　driven　from　Keshan！〃　She　was　repeating　his　exact　words。　〃They　are　thieves　and　traitors　who　plot　to　rob　the　gods。　Let　the　Teeth　of　Gwahlur　be　placed　in　the　care　of　the　general　Conan。　Let　him　lead　the　armies　of　Keshan。　He　is　beloved　of　the　gods！〃
　　There　was　a　quiver　in　her　voice　as　she　ended；　and　Conan　began　to　sweat；　believing　she　was　on　the　point　of　an　hysterical　collapse。　But　the　blacks　did　not　notice；　any　more　than　they　identified　the　Corinthian　accent；　of　which　they　knew　nothing。　They　smote　their　palms　softly　together　and　a　murmur　of　wonder　and　awe　rose　from　them。　Gorulga's　eyes　glittered　fanatically　in　the　torchlight。
　　〃Yelaya　has　spoken！〃　he　cried　in　an　exalted　voice。　〃It　is　the　will　of　the　gods！　Long　ago；　in　the　days　of　our　ancestors；　they　were　made　taboo　and　hidden　at　the　mand　of　the　gods；　who　wrenched　them　from　the　awful　jaws　of　Gwahlur　the　king　of　darkness；　in　the　birth　of　the　world。　At　the　mand　of　the　gods　the　Teeth　of　Gwahlur　were　hidden；　at　their　mand　they　shall　be　brought　forth　again。　O　star…born　goddess；　give　us　your　leave　to　go　to　the　secret　hiding…place　of　the　Teeth　to　secure　them　for　him　whom　the　gods　love！〃
　　〃You　have　my　leave　to　go！〃　answered　the　false　goddess；　with　an　imperious　gesture　of　dismissal　that　set　Conan　grinning　again；　and　the　priests　backed　out；　ostrich　plumes　and　torches　rising　and　falling　with　the　rhythm　of　their　genuflexions。
　　The　gold　door　closed　and　with　a　moan；　the　goddess　fell　back　limply　on　the　dais。　〃Conan！〃　she　whimpered　faintly。　〃Conan！〃
　　〃Shhh！〃　he　hissed　through　the　apertures；　and　turning；　glided　from　the　niche　and　closed　the　panel。　A　glimpse　past　the　jamb　of　the　carven　door　showed　him　the　torches　receding　across　the　great　throne　room；　but　he　was　at　the　same　time　aware　of　a　radiance　that　did　not　emanate　from　the　torches。　He　was　startled；　but　the　solution　presented　itself　instantly。　An　early　moon　had　risen　and　its　light　slanted　through　the　pierced　dome　which　by　some　curious　workmanship　intensified　the　light。　The　shining　dome　of　Alkmeenon　was　no　fable；　then。　Perhaps　its　interior　was　of　the　curious　whitely　flaming　crystal　found　only　in　the　hills　of　the　black　countries。　The　light　flooded　the　throne　room　and　seeped　into　the　chambers　immediately　adjoining。
　　But　as　Conan　made　toward　the　door　that　led　into　the　throne　room；　he　was　brought　around　suddenly　by　a　noise　that　seemed　to　emanate　from　the　passage　that　led　off　from　the　alcove。　He　crouched　at　the　mouth；　staring　into　it；　remembering　the　clangor　of　the　gong　that　had　echoed　from　it　to　lure　him　into　a　snare。　The　light　from　the　dome　filtered　only　a　little　way　into　that　narrow　corridor；　and　showed　him　only　empty　space。　Yet　he　could　have　sworn　that　he　had　heard　the　furtive　pad　of　a　foot　somewhere　down　it。
　　While　he　hesitated；　he　was　electrified　by　a　woman's　strangled　cry　from　behind　him。　Bounding　through　the　door　behind　the　throne；　he　saw　an　unexpected　spectacle；　in　the　crystal　light。
　　The　torches　of　the　priests　had　vanished　from　the　great　hall　outside…but　one　priest　was　still　in　the　palace：　Gwarunga。　His　wicked　features　were　convulsed　with　fury；　and　he　grasped　the　terrified　Muriela　by　the　throat；　choking　her　efforts　to　scream　and　plead；　shaking　her　brutally。
　　〃Traitress！〃　Between　his　thick　red　lips　his　voice　hissed　like　a　cobra。　〃What　game　are　you　playing？　Did　not　Zargheba　tell　you　what　to　say？　Aye；　Thutmekri　told　me！　Are　you　betraying　your　master；　or　is　he　betraying　his　friends　through　you？　Slut！　I'll　twist　off　your　false　head…but　first　I'll…〃
　　A　widening　of　his　captive's　lovely　eyes　as　she　stared　over　his　shoulder　warned　the　huge　black。　He　released　her　and　wheeled；　just　as　Conan's　sword　lashed　down。　The　impact　of　the　stroke　knocked　him　headlong　backward　to　the　marble　floor；　where　he　lay　twitching；　blood　oozing　from　a　ragged　gash　in　his　scalp。
　　Conan　started　toward　him　to　finish　the　job…for　he　knew　that　the　black's　sudden　movement　had　caused　the　blade　to　strike　flat…but　Muriela　threw　her　arms　convulsively　about　him。
　　〃I've　done　as　you　ordered！〃　she　gasped　hysterically。　〃Take　me　away！　Oh；　please　take　me　away！〃
　　〃We　can't　go　yet；〃　he　grunted。　〃I　want　to　follow　the　priests　and　see　where　they　get　the　jewels。　There　may　be　more　loot　hidden　there。　But　you　can　go　with　me。　Where's　that　gem　you　wore　in　your　hair？〃
　　〃It　must　have　fallen　out　on　the　dais；〃　she　stammered；　feeling　for　it。　〃I　was　so　frightened…when　the　priests　left　I　ran　out　to　find　you；　and　this　big　brute　had　stayed　behind；　and　he　grabbed　me…〃
　　〃Well；　go　get　it　while　I　dispose　of　this　carcass；〃　he　manded。　〃Go　on！　That　gem　is　worth　a　fortune　itself。〃
　　She　hesitated；　as　if　loth　to　return　to　that　cryptic　chamber；　then；　as　he　grasped　Gwarunga's　girdle　and　dragged　him　into　the　alcove；　she　turned　and　entered　the　oracle　room。
　　Conan　dumped　the　senseless　black　on　the　floor；　and　lifted　his　sword。　The　Cimmerian　had　lived　too　long　in　the　wild　places　of　the　world　to　have　any　illusions　about　mercy。　The　only　safe　enemy　was　a　headless　enemy。　But　before　he　could　strike；　a　startling　scream　checked　the　lifted　blade。　It　came　from　the　oracle　chamber。
　　〃Conan！　Conan！　She's　e　back！〃　The　shriek　ended　in　a　gurgle　and　a　scraping　shuffle。
　　With　an　oath　Conan　dashed　out　of　the　alcove；　across　the　throne　dais　and　into　the　oracle　chamber；　almost　before　the　sound　had　ceased。　There　he　halted；　glaring　bewilderedly。　To　all　appearances　Muriela　lay　placidly　on　the　dais；　eyes　closed　as　if　in　slumber。
　　〃What　in　thunder　are　you　doing？〃　he　demanded　acidly。　〃Is　this　any　time　to　be　playing　jokes…〃
　　His　voice　trailed　away。　His　gaze　ran　along　the　ivory　thigh　molded　in　the　close…fitting　silk　skirt。　That　skirt　should　gape　from　girdle　to　hem。　He　knew；　because　it　had　been　his　own　hand　that　tore　it；　as　he　ruthlessly　stripped　the　garment　from　the　dancer's　writhing　body。　But　the　skirt　showed　no　rent。　A　single　stride　brought　him　to　the　dais　and　he　laid　his　hand　on　the　ivory　body…snatched　it　away　as　if　it　had　encountered　hot　iron　instead　of　the　cold　immobility　of　death。
　　〃Crom！〃　he　muttered；　his　eyes　suddenly　slits　of　balefire。　〃It's　not　Muriela！　It's　Yelaya！〃
　　He　understood　now　that　frantic　scream　that　had　burst　from　Muriela's　lips　when　she　entered　the　chamber。　The　goddess　had　returned。　The　body　had　been　stripped　by　Zargheba　to　furnish　the　accouterments　for　the　pretender。　Yet　now　it　was　clad　in　silk　and　jewels　as　Conan　had　first　seen　it。　A　peculiar　prickling　made　itself　manifest　among　the　sort　hairs　at　the　base　of　Conan's　scalp。
　　〃Muriela！〃　he　shouted　suddenly。　〃Muriela！　Where　the　devil　are　you？〃
　　The　walls　threw　back　his　voice　mockingly。　There　was　no　entrance　that　he　could　see　except　the　golden　door；　and　none　could　have　entered　or　departed　through　that　without　his　knowledge。　This　much　was　indisputable：　Yelaya　had　been　replaced　on　the　dais　within　the　few　minutes　that　had　elapsed　since　Muriela　had　first　left　the　chamber　to　be　seized　by　Gwarunga；　his　ears　were　still　tingling　with　the　echoes　of　Muriela's　scream；　yet　the　Corinthian　girl　had　vanished　as　if　into　thin　air。　There　was　but　one　explanation；　if　he　rejected　the　darker　speculation　that　suggested　the　supernatural…somewhere　in　the　chamber　there　was　a　secret　door。　And　even　as　the　thought　crossed　his　mind；　he　saw　it。
　　In　what　had　seemed　a　curtain　of　solid　marble；　a　thin　perpendicular　crack　showed　and　in　the　crack　hung　a　wisp　of　silk。　In　an　instant　he　was　bending　over　it。　That　shred　was　from　Muriela's　torn　skirt。　The　implication　was　unmistakable。　It　had　been　caught　in　the　closing　door　and　torn　off　as　she　was　borne　through　the　opening　by　whatever　grim　beings　were　her　captors。　The　bit　of　clothing　had　prevented　the　door　from　fitting　perfectly　into　its　frame。
　　Thrusting　his　dagger…point　into　the　crack；　Conan　exerted　leverage　with　a　corded　forearm。　The　blade　bent；　but　it　was　of　unbreakable　Akbitanan　steel。　The　marble　door　opened。　Conan's　sword　was　lifted　as　he　peered　into　the　aperture　beyond；　but　he　saw　no　shape　of　menace。　Light　filtering　into　the　oracle　chamber　revealed　a　short　flight　of　steps　cut　out　of　marble。　Pulling　the　door　back　to　its　fullest　extent；　he　drove　his　dagger　into　a　crack　in　the　floor；　proping　it　open。　Then　he　went　down　the　steps　without　hesitation。　He　saw　nothing；　heard　nothing。　A　dozen　steps　down；　the　stair　ended　in　a　narrow　corridor　which　ran　straight　away　into　gloom。
　　He　halted　suddenly；　posed　like　a　statue　at　the　foot　of　the　stair；　staring　at　the　paintings　which　frescoed　the　walls；　half　visible　in　the　dim　light　which　filtered　down　from　above。　The　art　was　unmistakably　Pelishti；　he　had　seen　frescoes　of　identical　characteristics　on　the　walls　of　Asgalun。　But　the　scenes　depicted　had　no　connection　with　anything　Pelishti；　except　for　one　human　figure；　frequently　re