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    Shadows in Zamboula: With linked Table of Contents
    Shadows in Zamboula: With linked Table of Contents
    Shadows in Zamboula: With linked Table of Contents
    Ebook48 pages44 minutes

    Shadows in Zamboula: With linked Table of Contents

    By Robert E. Howard

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    About this ebook

    Cannibalism was not tolerated openly in Zamboula. But Conan knew now why people locked themselves in so securely at night, and why even beggars shunned the open alley and doorless ruins. He grunted in disgust as he visualized brutish black shadows skulking up and down the nighted streets, seeking human prey--and such men as Aram Baksh to open the doors to them. The innkeeper was not a demon; he was worse. The slaves from Darfar were notorious thieves; there was no doubt that some of their pilfered loot found its way into the hands of Aram Baksh. And in return he sold them human flesh.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWilder Publications, Inc.
    Release dateMar 27, 2015
    ISBN9781633848504
    Shadows in Zamboula: With linked Table of Contents

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      Book preview

      Shadows in Zamboula - Robert E. Howard

      Fantastic Stories Presents:

      Shadows in Zamboula

      Robert E. Howard

      ©2014 Positronic Publishing

      All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except for brief quotations for review purposes only.

      Cover Image © CanStockPhoto / prometeus

      Interior Illustrations © Can Stock Photo Inc. / outsiderzone

      Wilder Publications

      PO Box 632

      Floyd VA 24091-0632

      ISBN 13: 978-1-63384-850-4

      Table of Contents

      A Drum Begins

      The Night Skulkers

      Black Hands Gripping

      Dance, Girl, Dance!

      A Drum Begins

      Peril hides in the house of Aram Baksh!

      The speaker’s voice quivered with earnestness and his lean, black-nailed fingers clawed at Conan’s mightily-muscled arm as he croaked his warning. He was a wiry, sunburnt man with a straggling black beard, and his ragged garments prolcaimed him a nomad. He looked smaller and meaner than ever in contrast to the giant Cimmerian with his black brows, broad chest, and powerful limbs. They stood in a corner of the Sword Makers’ Bazaar, and on either side of them flowed past the many-tongued, many-colored stream of the Zamboulan streets, which are exotic, hybrid, flamboyant, and clamorous.

      Conan pulled his eyes back from following a bold-eyed, red-lipped Ghanara whose short skirt bared her brown thigh at each insolent step, and frowned down at his importunate companion.

      What do you mean by peril? he demanded.

      The desert man glanced furtively over his shoulder before replying, and lowered his voice.

      Who can say? But desert men and travelers have slept in the house of Aram Baksh and never been seen or heard of again. What became of them? He swore they rose and went their way—and it is true that no citizen of the city has ever disappeared from his house. But no one saw the travelers again, and men say that goods and equipment recognised as theirs have been seen in the bazaars. If Aram did not sell them, after doing away with their owners, how came they there?

      I have no goods, growled the Cimmerian, touching the shagreen-bound hilt of the broadsword that hung at his hip. I have even sold my horse.

      But it is not always rich strangers who vanish by night from the house of Aram Baksh! chattered the Zuagir. Nay, poor desert men have slept there—because his score is less than that of the other taverns—and have been seen no more. Once a chief of the Zuagirs whose son had thus vanished complained to the satrap, Jungir Khan, who ordered the house searched by soldiers.

      And they found a cellar full of corpses? asked Conan in good-humored derision.

      Nay! They found naught! And drove the chief from the city with threats and curses! But—he drew closer to Conan and shivered—something else was found! At the edge of the desert, beyond the houses, there is a clump of palm trees, and within that grove there is a pit. And within that pit have been found human bones, charred and blackened. Not once, but many times!

      Which proves what? grunted the Cimmerian.

      Aram Baksh is a demon! Nay, in this accursed city which Stygians built and which Hyrkanians rule—where white, brown, and black folk mingle together to produce hybrids of all unholy hues and breeds—who can tell who is a man, and who is a demon in disguise? Aram Baksh is a demon in the form of a man! At night he assumes his true guise and carries his guests off into the desert, where his fellow demons from the waste meet in conclave.

      "Why does he always carry off

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