Ionia, still lives, in spite of Xaltotun's sorcery—or perhaps because of it. I know not. The dark mind of that resurrected devil is too devious and subtle for a mortal man to fathom. But while Conan lives I am not safe. The people accepted me as the lesser of two evils, when they thought he was dead. Let him reappear and the throne will be rocking under my feet in revolution before I can lift my hand.
"Perhaps my allies mean to use him to replace me, if they decide I have served my purpose. I do not know. I do know that this planet is too small for two kings of Aquilonia. Seek the Cimmerian. Use your uncanny talents to ferret him out wherever he hides or runs. He has many friends in Tarantia. He had aid when he carried off Albiona. It took more than one man, even such a man as Conan, to wreak all that slaughter in the alley outside the tower. But no more. Take your staffs and strike his trail. Where that trail will lead you, I know not. But find him! And when you find him, slay him!"
The four Khitans bowed together, and still unspeaking, turned and padded noiselessly from the chamber.
Conan's weird and thrilling pursuit of the Heart of Ahriman will be told in the exciting chapters of this story in next month's WEIRD TALES. Reserve your copy at your news dealer's now.
Gray Ghosts
Across the fields where run our little ways
Walk the gray, sheeted ghosts of all the woes
We planted in the thoughtless yesterdays,
Ghosts that each mem'ry all too keenly knows—
Disease and retribution, progeny
Of old misdeeds we gave place in our lot—
For in Life's ever-sure economy
No thought, or word, or action is forgot.
But these are not the only ghosts that come.
There are wraiths, too, of sweet and lovely thought.
Spirits of goodness that unnumbered roam,
And those of mercy into action wrought—
The ghosts of beauty, kindliness, and grace,
That come to make the earth a brighter place.
