Moments later, Conan., battered and disheveled but leading another horse, appeared at his dwelling. He tied the animal, rushed inside, and brought a bag of coins out of its hiding place.
“Let's go!” he barked at Diana. “Grab a loaf of bread! Where in the cold Hells of Niflheim is my shield? Ah, here!”
“But don't you want to take those nice things—“
“No time; the browns are done for. Hold my girdle while you ride behind me. Up with you, now!”
With its double burden, the horse galloped heavily through the Inner City, through a rabble of looters and rioters, pursuers and pursued. One man, who leaped for the animal's bridle, was ridden down with a shriek and a snapping of bones; others scrambled madly out of the way. Out through the great bronze gates they rode, while behind them the houses of the nobility blazed up into yellow pyramids of flame. Overhead lightning flashed, thunder roared, and ram came pelting down like a waterfall. An hour later, the rain had slackened to a drizzle. The horse moved at a slow walk, picking its way through the darkness.
“We're still on the Stygian road,” grumbled Conan, striving to pierce the dark with his gaze. “When the rain stops, we'll stop, too, to dry off and get a little sleep.”
“Where are we going?” said the high, gentle voice of Diana.
“I don't know; but I'm tired of the black countries. You cannot do anything with these people; they are as hidebound and as thick-headed as the barbarians of my own north country - the Cimmerians and Aesir and Vanir. I am minded to have another try at civilization.!”
“And what about me ?”
“What do you want? I'll send you home or keep you with me, whichever you like.”
“I think,” she said in a small voice, “that in spite of the wet and everything, I like things as they are.”
Conan grinned silently in the darkness and urged the horse to a trot.