He shook his great head. “We have not done this before, my child, and—”
“And ignorance is dangerous—is that it?”
“Candace, we have this one chance to make Khai Ibizin well, to give him back his ka and make him a whole man. If we fail—” Sadly he shook his head.
Ashtarta turned to Imthra. “Wise one, go now. Do what must be done.”
The old magician faced Manek Thotak and it seemed to the latter that the ancient’s eyes were suddenly veiled. “Come, Lord Manek,” Imthra said, leading him from the tent and out into the evening’s dusk. “We go to find a place. And then you must get your sleep.”
“Sleep, old man? I think not,” Manek replied. “After we have buried the mask and rings, I must be riding. The village of Thon Emahl lies not far to the west, above the heights of Dah-bhas.”
“That is so,” Imthra agreed, “but what do you want there?”
“Thon was killed when we clashed with Pharaoh’s army in the grasslands, and him without a son to carry on his name. His widow does not know—not yet.”
“And you yourself ride to tell her?”
Manek nodded. “I do … and to spend the night! She is a beautiful woman, Imthra, with neither family nor children. And I have been too long away from the women of Kush. Before she knew Thon, she knew me; aye, and I would have wed her if I did not desire the throne.”
The old man started, but before he could speak Manek caught his arm. “Listen, old one. If I do not survive this wizard’s quest, will you see to it that the widow of Thon Emahl has my things, all I possess? If there is issue—” he shrugged. “Thon Emahl will have been the father. He saw his wife recently.”
“We all hope and pray that you do return, Manek,” said Imthra.
“Do you?” Manek turned on him with a snarl. “Do you, Imthra? I was of the opinion that Khai was your favorite! Or perhaps that is why you pray for my return—so that Khai will also be returned? Well, no matter. If I do return, I myself shall see to the woman’s needs. I can find a husband for her from among my men….”
“Why do you do this thing, Manek?” Imthra asked. “And why tonight, of all nights, when the Candace has promised herself to you?”
“What?” Manek returned. “Do you believe that? No, old man, she has promised me the throne of Kush, nothing more. She would be my Queen, yes, but never my woman. Why do I ride to Thon Emahl’s widow? Look up there, at the bright and starry skies of Kush. Tomorrow I go to seek my destiny in a new world, Imthra, and I may never see these skies again. That is all well and good. But tonight... tonight I intend to leave something of myself in this world. Now do you understand?”
For answer, Imthra tugged his arm free of the other’s grasp. “Come,” he said. “We must be about our work. And you had better ensure that you are here when the Nubian mage comes looking for you before the dawn....”
When the first pale flush of morning showed as a haze of gray mist on the eastern horizon, then the Mage of Fascination found Manek Thotak, haggard and chilled, where he crouched by the embers of an open fire. Together they went to Ashtarta’s tent, where certain preparations had already been made. All was still except for the phantom drift of dark figures on the camp’s perimeter, the night watch about their duties. Although the war was almost at an end, its lessons would not die an easy death.
In Ashtarta’s tent, the Nubian lay Manek down on a second couch set apart from the general Khai’s. He propped Manek’s head on a cushion and then, by the light of a hanging brazier, began to make intricate passes before his face. As he did so, he uttered a long list of sonorous, languorous words. Manek did not recognize the meaning of these words—if indeed they had a meaning— but nevertheless, he found them very lulling. In any event he was tired, and it was not unpleasant to simply lie here and listen to the black wizard’s low incantations.
The Nubian’s hands seemed full of rings, golden bands that caught the glow of the brazier and threw it into Manek’s eyes. Without realizing it, the general found himself closing his eyes against this glittering coruscation, and as he did so the mage’s low-spoken gibberish took on a more readily recognizable form. Now he was telling Manek what he must do in his next incarnation, repeating over and over a list of careful instructions, demanding utmost obediance, indelibly imprinting his subject’s mind. …
Somewhere, as the glow in the east increased and the brazier’s fire dulled to a sullen glow, a cock crowed.
The Nubian straightened up, went to one of the partitioned areas of the marquee and drew the curtains back. There his six colleagues waited, all seated cross-legged in a circle. Their instruments of magic lay close at hand: bronze censers, golden wands, high-domed wizard’s caps and capes embroidered with golden glyphs. Imthra was with them, but sat apart from them in a chair.
As the seven mages silently took their paraphernalia to set it up about the silent form of Manek Thotak, so Imthra left the marquee and went to the tent of Ashtarta’s handmaidens which stood nearby. Moments later, he led the Candace, her eyes still full of sleep, back to her marquee.
Now the eastern horizon was aglow with subdued light and soon the sun’s disk would show its golden rim above the edge of the world.
Ashtarta’s heart quickened and the roots of her raven hair prickled as she followed Imthra into the incense-scented cavern of her royal tent. …
PART TWO
I
The Dream Lovers
He was lying on a bed of rich furs in a room whose walls were huge sheets of purple linen. Above, glowing golden through the thin linen ceiling, a bloated moon slowly slid across the night sky. A brazier burned, sputtering slowly, emitting puffs of incensed, mildly narcotic smoke. If not for a warm current of air from beyond the bead curtain of the entrance, which brought pine-sweet mountain air to the room, the atmosphere would be heavy with these heady fumes.
Used to the dark, his eyes wandered about the room. Close to the thickly piled furs where he lay, an old and intricately carved camphorwood chest from the east lay open, spilling flashing jewelry on a floor of pure white sand. The walls had pockets sewn into their lower edges which, filled with sand, anchored them firmly to the floor. He knew that this room was but a segment of the greater whole, which itself was a great summer tent, a royal dwelling-place. That it was summer was obvious: the heat welling from—from everywhere—would be suffocating were it not for the breeze from outside. The night was young, however, and it would grow cooler as the night grew older. Toward dawn it would be quite cold.
He had bathed earlier (he seemed to remember that), in a cold mountain pool beneath a waterfall, but he was uncertain how he came to be here on this bed of fine furs, with flickering, brazier-cast shadows leaping on the linen walls and glowing on his tanned, hard-muscled warrior’s body. It bothered him mildly that he could not remember his name or his coming to this place, but he was drowsy and his eyelids were heavy, and it seemed a great bother to have to worry about or concentrate upon anything but the pleasure of simply lying here.
If only it weren’t so hot!
Ah, but the heat had come with the Khamsin blowing from the great western deserts beyond the land of the Hyrksos, that scorpion wind of madness that dried up men’s brains and drove them to monstrous excesses. He made a mental note that tomorrow—or the day after, he could not remember for certain—when his polyglot army went into battle, then that he would do well to wait for the hot breath of the Khamsin before striking.