Red Nails, Polished Read online

stand the battering of a siege. Four women stood on guard, of the same lank-haired, dark-skinned breed as Techotl, with spears in their hands and swords at their hips. In the wall near the door there was a complicated contrivance of mirrors which Conyn guessed was the Eye Techotl had mentioned, so arranged that a narrow, crystal-paned slot in the wall could be looked through from within without being discernible from without. The four guardsmen stared at the strangers with wonder, but asked no question, nor did Techotl vouchsafe any information. She moved with easy confidence now, as if she had shed her cloak of indecision and fear the instant she crossed the threshold.

  "Come!" she urged her new-found friends, but Conyn glanced toward the door.

  "What about those fellows who were following us? Won't they try to storm that door?"

  Techotl shook her head.

  "They know they cannot break down the Door of the Eagle. They will flee back to Xotalanc, with their crawling fiend. Come! I will take you to the rulers of Tecuhltli."

  One of the four guards opened the door opposite the one by which they had entered, and they passed through into a hallway wich, like most of the rooms on that level, was lighted by both the slot-like skylights and the clusters of winking fire-gems. But unlike the other rooms they had traversed, this hall showed evidences of occupation. Velvet tapestries adorned the glossy jade walls, rich rugs were on the crimson floors, and the ivory seats, benches and divans were littered with satin cushions.

  The hall ended in an ornate door, before which stood no guard. Without ceremony Techotl thrust the door open and ushered her friends into a broad chamber, where some thirty dark-skinned women and men lounged on satin-covered couches sprang up with exclamations of amazement.

  The women, all except one, were of the same type as Techotl, and the men were equally dark and strange-eyed, though not unbeautiful in a weird dark way. They wore sandals, golden breastplates, and scanty silk skirts supported by gem-crusted girdles, and their black manes, cut square at their naked shoulders, were bound with silver circlets.

  On a wide ivory seat on a jade dais sat a woman and a man who differed subtly from the others. She was a giant, with an enormous sweep of breast and the shoulders of a bull. Unlike the others, she was smooth, with a thick, blue-black locks which fell almost to her broad girdle. She wore a robe of purple silk which reflected changing sheens of color with her every movement, and one wide sleeve, drawn back to her elbow, revealed a forearm massive with corded muscles. The band which confined her blue-black locks was set with glittering jewels.

  The man beside her sprang to his feet with a startled exclamation as the strangers entered, and his eyes, passing over Conyn, fixed themselves with burning intensity on Valerian. He was tall and lithe, by far the most beautiful man in the room. He was clad more scantily even than the others; for instead of a skirt he wore merely a broad strip of gilt-worked purple cloth fastened to the middle of his girdle which fell below his knees. Another strip at the back of his girdle completed that part of his costume, which he wore with a cynical indifference. His breast-plates and the circlet about his temples were adorned with gems. In his eyes alone of all the darkskinned people there lurked no brooding gleam of madness. He spoke no word after his first exclamation; he stood tensely, his hands clenched, staring at Valerian.

  The woman on the ivory seat had not risen.

  "Prince Tascela," spoke Techotl, bowing low, with arms outspread and the palms of her hands turned upward, "I bring allies from the world beyond the forest. In the Chamber of Tezcoti the Burning Skull slew Chicmec, my companion--"

  "The Burning Skull!" It was a shuddering whisper of fear from the people of Tecuhltli.

  "Aye! Then came I, and found Chicmec lying with her throat cut. Before I could flee, the Burning Skull came upon me, and when I looked upon it my blood became as ice and the marrow of my bones melted. I could neither fight nor run. I could only await the stroke. Then came this white-skinned man and struck her down with his sword; and lo, it was only a dog of Xotalanc with white paint upon her skin and the living skull of an ancient wizard upon her head! Now that skull lies in many pieces, and the dog who wore it is a dead woman!"

  An indescribably fierce exultation edged the last sentence, and was echoed in the low, savage exclamations from the crowding listeners.

  "But wait!" exclaimed Techotl. "There is more! While I talked with the man, four Xotalancs came upon us! One I slew--there is the stab in my thigh to prove how desperate was the fight. Two the man killed. But we were hard pressed when this woman came into the fray and split the skull of the fourth! Aye! Five crimson nails there are to be driven into the pillar of vengeance!"

  She pointed to a black column of ebony which stood behind the dais. Hundreds of red dots scarred its polished surface--the bright scarlet heads of heavy copper nails driven into the black wood.

  "Five red nails for five Xotalanca lives!" exulted Techotl, and the horrible exultation in the faces of the listeners made them inhuman.

  "Who are these people?" asked Tascela, and her voice was like the low, deep rumble of a distant bull. None of the people of Xuchotl spoke loudly. It was as if they had absorbed into their souls the silence of the empty halls and deserted chambers.

  "I am Conyn, a Cimmerian," answered the barbarian briefly. "This man is Valerian of the Red Sisterhood, an Aquilonian pirate. We are deserters from an army on the Darfar border, far to the north, and are trying to reach the coast."

  The man on the dais spoke loudly, his words tripping in his haste.

  "You can never reach the coast! There is no escape from Xuchotl! You will spend the rest of your lives in this city!"

  "What do you mean," growled Conyn, clapping her hand to her hilt and stepping about so as to face both the dais and the rest of the room. "Are you telling us we're prisoners?"

  "He did not mean that," interposed Tascela. "We are your friends. We would not restrain you against your will. But I fear other circumstances will make it impossible for you to leave Xuchotl."

  Her eyes flickered to Valerian, and she lowered them quickly.

  "This man is Olmec," she said. "He is a prince of Tecuhltli. But let food and drink be brought our guests. Doubtless they are hungry, and weary from their long travels."

  She indicated an ivory table, and after an exchange of glances, the adventurers seated themselves. The Cimmerian was suspicious. Her fierce blue eyes roved about the chamber, and she kept her sword close to her hand. But an invitation to eat and drink never found her backward. Her eyes kept wandering to Olmec, but the prince had eyes only for her white-skinned companion.

  Techotl, who had bound a strip of silk about her wounded thigh, placed herself at the table to attend to the wants of her friends, seeming to consider it a privilege and honor to see after their needs. She inspected the food and drink the others brought in gold vessels and dishes, and tasted each before she placed it before her guests. While they ate, Tascela sat in silence on her ivory seat, watching them from under her broad black brows. Olmec sat beside her, chin cupped in his hands and his elbows resting on his knees. His dark, enigmatic eyes, burning with a mysterious light, never left Valerian's supple figure. Behind his seat a sullen handsome boy waved an ostrich-plume fan with a slow rhythm.

  The food was fruit of an exotic kind unfamiliar to the wanderers, but very palatable, and the drink was a light crimson wine that carried a heady tang.

  "You have come from afar," said Tascela at last. "I have read the books of our mothers. Aquilonia lies beyone the lands of the Stygians and the Shemites, beyond Argos and Zingara; and Cimmeria lies beyond Aquilonia."

  "We have each a roving foot," answered Conyn carelessly.

  "How you won through the forest is a wonder to me," quoth Tascela. "In bygone days a thousand fighting women scarcely were able to carve a road through its perils."

  "We encountered a bench-legged monstrosity about the size of a mastodon," said Conyn casually, holding out her wine goblet which Techutl filled with evi
dent pleasure. "But when we'd killed it we had no further trouble."

  The wine vessel slipped from Techotl's hand to crash on the floor. Her dusky skin went ashy. Tascela started to her feet, an image of stunned amazement, and a low gasp of awe or terror breathed up from the others. Some slipped to their knees as if their legs would not support them. Only Olmec seemed not to have heard. Conyn glared about her bewilderedly.

  "What's the matter? What are you gaping about?"

  "You--you slew the dragon-god?"

  "God? I killed a dragon. Why not? It was trying to gobble us up."

  "But dragons are immortal!" exclaimed Tascela. "They slay each other, but no woman ever killed a dragon! The thousand fighting women of our ancestors who fought their way to Xuchotl could not prevail against them! Their swords broke like twigs against their scales!"

  "If your ancestors had thought to dip their spears in the poisonous juice of Derketa's Apples," quoth Conyn, with her mouth full, "and jab them in the eyes or mouth or somewhere like that, they'd have seen that dragons are no more immortal than any other chunk of beef. The carcass lies at the edge of the trees, just within the forest. If you don't believe me, go and look for yourself."

  Tascela shook her head, not in disbelief but in wonder.

  "It was because of the dragons that our ancestors took refuge in Xuchotl,"