"Robert Jordan - Conan 02 - The Invincible" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jordan Robert)

"You wish me to steal the pendants, not the casket," he said, and was pleased to see Ankar's eyes
widen.

The self-named merchant took his staff with both hands. "Why do you say that, Cimmerian?" His voice
was low and dark.

"The casket you describe could be duplicated for far less than what you offer. That leaves the pendants."
He measured the other's age and added with a laugh, "Unless it's the dancing girls you want."

Ankar did not join in, continuing to watch Conan with hooded eyes. "You are not stupid-" He stopped
abruptly.

Conan angrily shut off his laughter. Not stupid-for a barbarian. He would show this man a thing or three
of barbarians. "Where are these pendants?" he growled. "If they're in the treasure room, I will need time
for planning and-"

"Tiridates basks in the reflected glory of a more powerful monarch. The casket shows that Yildiz has
concluded a treaty with him. It is displayed in the antechamber before his throne room, so that all who
approach him may see."

"I will still need time," Conan said. "Ten days for preparations."

"Impossible! Make fewer preparations. Three days."

"Fewer preparations and you'll never see those pendants. And my head will decorate a pike above the
West Gate. Eight days."

Ankar touched the tip of his tongue to thin lips. For the first time he appeared uncertain. His eyes clouded
as if he had lost himself in his thoughts. "Fi... four days. Not a moment more."

"Five days," Conan insisted. "A moment less, and Tiridates will keep his pendants."

Ankar's eyes dimmed again. "Five days," he said finally.

"Done." Conan suppressed a grin. He meant to have those pendants in his hand that very night, but had
he told this Ankar that, when he put the pendants in the man's hands, Ankar would think it nothing out of
the ordinary. By negotiating for ten days and settling for five as the absolute minimum, he would be
thought a miracle worker when he produced the pendants on the next morn. He had seen each reaction
from men before. "There was mention of ten thousand gold pieces, Ankar."

The swarthy man produced a purse from beneath his robe and slid it halfway across the table. "Twenty
now. A hundred more when you tell me your plan. The balance when you hand me the pendants."

"A small part beforehand for a payment of ten thousand," Conan grumbled, but inside he was not
displeased at all. The twenty alone equalled his largest commission before this, and the rest would be in
hand on the morrow.
He reached for the purse. Of a sudden Ankar's hand darted to cover his atop the gold-filled pouch, and
he started. The man's hand was as cold as a corpse's.