X. The Enemy of My Enemy

Arpid huddled against the flying sand and swore never again to agree to one of these schemes. If that blasted camel of the king's spits at me one more time, he thought, I'll... I'll spit right back! Or maybe I'll see how tasty its meat is. Camel stew would do nicely right about now. If I had some water.

He gazed forlornly at his empty wineskin and prayed for rain instead of sand. But at least the wind was blowing the stench of the royally ugly beast away from him. Not for nothing had he been a horse thief. I should not have taken the king's camel. Perhaps, if Set is smiling on me, my traveling companions will put this damnable animal out of my misery.

As if sensing Arpid's petulant thoughts, the camel, kneeling by him in the sandstorm, belched disapprovingly. The thief glared at the beast, wrapped himself a bit tighter in his cloak, and resolved to ignore the belligerent creature for the duration of the storm.

But he didn't want to contemplate the rest of the trek through the parched wasteland west of Nubia; nor did entering Ethiopia bear thinking of. I should not have taken the king's camel.

A mail-gloved hand patted his shoulder. "Not much longer now," Selasser yelled over the wind, and the warriors ringed around them nodded their understanding. The Ethiopian didn't withdraw his touch, but kept a firm grip on the shorter man.

Arpid was less than comforted. I should never have taken the king's camel.

* * *

The late afternoon sun spilled, honey gold, into the throne room where Mathayus paced like a caged lion. "Amarna is poorly defended, has little to no standing army, and is situated in an especially fertile stretch of land. If Amarna falls, Thebes will eventually follow. Tell me again why you want me to let an opportunity like this slip by?"

Cassandra let her eyes linger on the Khnum-sphinx to the left of the throne. It was easier than looking at the king. "I see nothing good from you going into battle, my lord."

"How is it," Mathayus growled, "that you never see anything good about me going into battle?" She made no reply. "Look at me!" he roared.

She looked.

The king had aged years since the report of Menes' death only days before. Laugh lines that were once barely visible had been replaced by the fine creases of worry, sorrow, and an anger that burned low but frighteningly constant. His eyes held a spark which reminded her daily that this man was trained not for kingship, but murder.

"Do you only ever see my death?" he whispered. "Or do you just not want me to go?"

Blinking back tears, Cassandra slumped in defeat. "I've seen your death more times than I can count, Mathayus. And it doesn't matter how many times I see you victorious--the vision is always followed by another of you defeated." She huddled into herself, closing her eyes and hugging her shoulders. Mathayus wrapped one arm around her, lifting her chin with tender fingers. Trembling, she met his gaze.

Mathayus' fierce expression softened. "I can only die once."

"That's comforting," she said sardonically.

"Cassandra, my son is dead." The king's voice cracked. "My boy is gone." He swayed on his feet then, and she helped him up the steps to his throne. He sat heavily and leaned his head on his fist. "I've sent Arpid to Ethiopia."

"Arpid?" Cassandra repeated incredulously. "But he's a horse thief!"

"Thief, diplomat. What's the difference?" he laughed humorlessly. "The enemy of my enemy..." He gave her a bleak look. "Anakronos and I have things to discuss."

* * *

The rider was killed before he ever found Balthazar's nomadic encampment. The scouts brought to the king the horse and the Ethiopian's head, as well as a sheet of parchment that had been folded into one of the saddlebags.

Balthazar opened it with a scowl; a moment later, the parchment fell, forgotten, from his numb hands. "That jackal-tongued son of Set..." he muttered. He looked around at the people gathered near him, at the soldiers, at the women and children, at the old men. Then his eyes found Queen Isis and her fierce warrior women. She nodded in silent understanding and made her way toward their pavilion and privacy.

Balthazar let the tent flap fall closed behind him and sighed. "Anakronos lured Mathayus into a trap," he said heavily.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to that necropolis Mathayus has been building. You'll stay here with the armies. Be prepared for anything, Isis--but don't do anything stupid." He glared at her. "You run if you have to, woman."

Isis shook her head slowly, frowning. "I still don't understand. Why are you going to the Valley of the Dead?"

"That's where Anakronos left Mathayus' body."