"Robert E. Howard - Conan - The Hour of the Dragon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Howard Robert E)

live the arts by which to loose its full powers. I knew it could restore life; of its deeper
secrets I am ignorant. I merely used it to bring you back to life. It is the use of your knowledge
we seek. As for the Heart, you alone know its awful secrets."
Xaltotun shook his head, staring broodingly into the flaming depths.
"My necromantic knowledge is greater than the sum of all the knowledge of other men," he
said; "yet I do not know the full power of the jewel. I did not invoke it in the old days; I
guarded it lest it be used against me. At last it was stolen, and in the hands of a feathered
shaman of the barbarians it defeated all my mighty sorcery. Then it vanished, and I was poisoned
by the jealous priests of Stygia before I could learn where it was hidden."
"It was hidden in a cavern below the temple of Mitra, in Taran-tia," said Orastes. "By
devious ways I discovered this, after I had located your remains in Set's subterranean temple in
Stygia.
"Zamorian thieves, partly protected by spells I learned from sources better left unmentioned,
stole your mummy-case from under the very talons of those which guarded it in the dark, and by
camel-caravan and galley and ox-wagon it came at last to this city.
"Those same thieves - or rather those of them who still lived after their frightful quest -
stole the Heart of Ahriman from its haunted cavern below the temple of Mitra, and all the skill of
men and the spells of sorcerers nearly failed. One man of them lived long enough to reach me and
give the jewel into my hands, before he died slavering and gibbering of what he had seen in that
accursed crypt. The thieves of Zamora are the most faithful of men to their trust. Even with my
conjurements, none but them could have stolen the Heart from where it has lain in demon-guarded
darkness since the fall of Acheron, three thousand years ago."
Xaltotun lifted his lion-like head and stared far off into space, as if plumbing the lost
centuries.
"Three thousand years!" he muttered. "Set! Tell me what has chanced in the world."
"The barbarians who overthrew Acheron set up new kingdoms," quoted Orastes. "Where the empire
had stretched now rose realms called Aquilonia, and Nemedia, and Argos, from the tribes that
founded them. The older kingdoms of Ophir, Corinthia and western Koth, which had been subject to
the kings of Acheron, regained their independence with the fall of the empire."
"And what of the people of Acheron?" demanded Orastes. "When I fled into Stygia, Python was
in ruins, and all the great, purple-towered cities of Acheron fouled with blood and trampled by
the sandals of the barbarians."
"In the hills small groups of folk still boast descent from Acheron," answered Orastes. "For
the rest, the tide of my barbarian ancestors rolled over them and wiped them out. They - my
ancestors - had suffered much from the kings of Acheron."
A grim and terrible smile curled the Pythonian's lips.
"Aye! Many a barbarian, both man and woman, died screaming on the altar under this hand. I
have seen their heads piled to make a pyramid in the great square in Python when the kings
returned from the west with their spoils and naked captives."
"Aye. And when the day of reckoning came, the sword was not spared. So Acheron ceased to be,
and purple-towered Python became a memory of forgotten days. But the younger kingdoms rose on the
imperial ruins and waxed great. And now we have brought you back to aid us to rule these kingdoms,
which, if less strange and wonderful than Acheron of old, are yet rich and powerful, well worth
fighting for. Look!" Orastes unrolled before the stranger a map drawn cunningly on vellum.
Xaltotun regarded it, and then shook his head, baffled.


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