"Perhaps we should capture one and ask it."

"A good idea, Conan."

Tair moved to a coil of climbing vine and kicked it over the edge of the branch. He moved down the rope even before it completely stretched out, and Conan had never seen a man climb with such speed; a spider could have done it no better on his own line of webbing.

Conan immediately followed Tair down the cable of plaited vine.

If the selkies took any notice of Tair and Conan, they gave no sign, but as Conan neared two spans above the ground, the yelling attackers abruptly turned and squinted into the darkness.

Conan leaped the final distance, pulled his sword forth with a rasp of leather and a ring of tempered iron, and charged after Tair, who pursued the suddenly fleeing selkies. The tree dweller might be a faster climber, but Conan's long and powerful legs gave him the edge on the ground. In two heartbeats, the Cimmerian pa.s.sed Tair and began gaining on the retreating selkies. Conan had time to wonder why the attackers fled. Surely one small tree dweller and one somewhat larger Cimmerian could not have frightened them so badly? Most odd.

That was something to worry over later, though. Conan began to overtake the selkie nearest the rear of the running group, and he had to decide how best to stop the straggler without killing him. A sword thrust to one leg? Aye, that would do it.

The starlight reflected from the blued iron blade as the running man took aim at the intended target and prepared to strike

At that moment, however, the fleeing selkie must have sensed his danger. Whether he heard Conan's thudding footsteps or caught some peripheral movement or detected his pursuer with some sense unknown to men, it mattered not, for he glanced over his shoulder, saw Conan, and dodged sharply just as Conan jabbed with the point of his heavy sword.

The intended thrust missed its mark, and the lack of expected resistance off-balanced Conan the slightest bit. In itself this would have been of little consequence; however, at that precise moment a gnarled root loomed from the dark ground, Conan's bare foot connected with the root, and he tripped. Such was the Cimmerian's momentum that he took to the air, launched from the earth in a headlong dive. Conan uttered a curse he had first heard his father speak when once the smith had accidentally struck his hand with a forge hammer.

Fortune smiled upon the endangered selkie, only to turn its back with a frown an instant later. The selkie saw Conan's mishap, must have thought it an intentional leap, and dodged again. Alas for the selkie, he mistook the angle of his pursuer's flight and instead of leaving Conan's path, he shifted the wrong way; realizing his error, the selkie tried to twist away, succeeding only in stopping cold.

Conan smashed into the startled selkie with all of his not inconsiderable weight, stretching the creature out and slamming him facedown into the ground with the man on his back. The two slid for perhaps three spans, the Cimmerian youth riding the figure beneath him as a boy rides a sled across new snow.

The other selkies quickly gained the cover of night and disappeared.

Tair arrived a moment later and skidded to a stop. "I am the best spring dancer in the trees," he said as Conan stood, "but you must teach me that leap, I have never seen anything quite like it."

Conan looked down at the unconscious selkie, then at Tair. He had the presence of mind to shrug. "That? That was nothing, a child's trick where I come from."

"Shall we take this one back and question him?"

"Aye," Conan began.

He was interrupted by the sound of approaching footfalls. Conan spun away from the downed selkie; sword held ready, but it was a contingent from the trees and not the selkie's comrades.

"The sacred Seed!" one of the men yelled. "They have stolen the sacred Seed!"

Back at the tree in which the G.o.d-seeing ceremony had been held, Conan listened as Cheen explained.

"The trees of our grove are the mightiest in all the world," she said, "but it was not always so. Twenty generations past, the most powerful of our medicine women created a spell that caused normal trees to grow thrice or more times their usual size."

Conan nodded, but did not speak. He looked at the empty chest at her feet.

"But it was not enough that they should grow. The ground here cannot provide enough nourishment for the roots of so many trees such as ours. So the medicine woman-she was known as Jinde-wove another spell, which she invested in a special seed. It gives great energy to any plants near it."

Magic. A thing not at all to Conan's liking. It seemed to be everywhere he went, and he would avoid dealing with it, given a choice.

"Without the seed," Cheen continued, "our trees will soon wither and die."

Well. A sad fate, but not really Conan's concern. Best to leave magic to those who wanted to deal with it.

Before Cheen could continue, Tair came running toward them. "Have you seen Hok?" he said, all out of breath.

"No," Cheen answered. She looked at Conan.

"Not since before the ceremony," he said.

"He should be in the boys' hut," Cheen said.

Tair nodded. "Aye, he should be, but he is not."

"Have the call drum sounded. He is probably up and wandering about because of all the excitement," she said.

But when the last echoes of the drum faded, the boy Hok did not respond, and a search of every tree also failed to turn him up. When the hunt had been completed, Cheen's face was a mix of rage and sorrow as she said, "Along with the life of our grove, the selkies have stolen my youngest brother!"

The sun blazed and beat upon the heads of the selkies as they trudged across the isthmus of dry sand belonging to the Pili. Kleg would feel much better once they had achieved the coolness of the distant mountains, both for reasons of comfort and of safety. Good fortune had traveled with them during the outwardbound journey and he would have such luck continue as they returned home with their master's prize.

It was not to be. From behind a tall hillock of sand and scrubby growth ahead, a troop of Pili emerged, armed with their long dart slingers and prepared for battle.

Kleg counted the lizard men and saw that they numbered only slightly more than his own band. He called his selkies to a halt.

Normally, a group such as Kleg's would be attacked immediately; however, the Pili seemed in no great hurry to begin the fight that would surely end with much death on both sides. They, too, stopped and waited. Kleg took this as a good sign.

After a few moments, one of the Pili stepped forward. From the bright red sash he wore wrapped around his middle, Kleg a.s.sumed he was the leader. It was difficult to say, since the Pili all looked alike to him. The single Pili strode toward the selkies.

One of Kleg's troopers raised a spear, but Kleg waved one hand at him. "Nay, hold," he said. "Perhaps we might come to some accommodation." Kleg stepped forward and walked toward the approaching lizard man. When they were two spans apart, both stopped.

"You trespa.s.s on Pili territory," the lizard man said. His accent was harsh, but his command of the common tongue was adequate for normal conversation.

Kleg did not bother to try and deny it. "Aye. My master, He Who Creates, has bid me to achieve His business with haste; to go around would cost two days."

"Attempting to cross will surely cost you much more. My master, the Lord High King Rayk, has charged me with protecting his domain from unauthorized trespa.s.s."

"It seems we are at an impa.s.se then."

"So it seems. We outnumber you."

"Indeed, but by a small margin. If we fight, most of us will likely die on both sides."

"True. It is unfortunate, but not to be helped."

The lizard man turned to walk back to his troops.

"But hold a moment," Kleg said. "Perhaps there is a way around this dilemma."

The lizard man stopped. "I am listening."

"What if there were a way for our pa.s.sage to be authorized?"