Together, the three Romans fled up the ramp, Vladimir in the lead.
Behind them, the tomb rippled and shook as ancient balances and weights released, each corridor and chamber roof collapsing in violent sequence. A choking, smoke-stained wind rushed past Thyatis, the tomb's breath exhaled in final death. The walls groaned again, but the Walach gave a glad cry. "I can see the sky!"
Thyatis looked up, eyes smarting with tears, and saw a faint rectangular outline ahead filled with the cold gleam of starlight.
A dull series of booms rattled the ground, then tapered off into silence. In the pale moonlight, Thyatis could barely make out the slow, rolling cloud of dust and smoke issuing from the tomb door. When complete silence returned, the Roman woman turned away and trudged back across the drifting sand to the others and their camels. Nicholas was waiting, a few paces from Vladimir and Betia, who stared at the ground, each lost in their own thoughts.
"Anything?" The Latin's voice was still hoarse from smoke.
Thyatis shook her head. "No, no one came out."
"Good riddance," Nicholas said bitterly, sheathed blade held against his chest in an oddly intimate pose. "Did the amulet ever react?"
"No." Thyatis kept her voice level. She hadn't spared a thought for the prince's talisman, though it was still tucked safely between her tunic and armor. Aside from its first trembling when they approached, she didn't remember any odd sensation. In the struggle in the tomb, she'd had no moment to spare for any warning or sign the amulet might have given. "If a telecast was in there, we didn't get close enough."
Nicholas spit on the ground, silently furious. "What a waste."
"True enough." Thyatis nodded, feeling a cold, empty sensation at the thought of Mithridates' easy smile. Bending her head, she said a short prayer for the departed dead. But you will not go into the darkness alone, comrade, she thought. The Aryan lords will bear you golden cups, filled with new wine. Their sorcerer will be your servant in high-ceilinged halls, overlooking fields of golden wheat. She tilted her head towards the camels. "Let's move-the Persians may have friends about."
The Latin nodded sharply and turned away. Thyatis walked up to Betia and Vladimir, shrugging the scabbard of her own sword to a more comfortable position on her shoulder. "Vladimir, thank you," she said softly. "We wouldn't have gotten out without you and your nose." The barbarian gave her a blank, exhausted look in return, then nodded sadly.
"There's blood debt aplenty," he said, then coughed. Betia helped him stand up. The Walach managed a wry grimace in the place of a smile. "We can't pay Mithridates back… but another grain for that wizard to do his work and we'd have all been roasted on a spit."
Thyatis nodded in agreement, clasping wrists with the barbarian. "But we live," she said.
"We live." Vladimir limped away towards the pile of baggage. Nicholas was already loading the camels with bags of water and bundles of clothing and tools.
Thyatis looked down at Betia, her own weariness and grief undisguised. "Did you see anything?"
Betia nodded, her eyes smudged pits of darkness in the moonlight. Her small face seemed carved from ivory. "I saw the Persians come," the little Gaul said softly, "but before I could creep down into the tunnel, two more… men came."
"Two?" Thyatis tensed, feeling the darkness-which had seemed almost comforting, a dark cloak laid across the land, hiding them from any prying eyes-fill with malice. "What kind of men? Persians?"
Betia shook her head minutely. "I don't think so. I could not see their faces and all their garb and armor was black as pitch. They… crept along the ground like Vladimir when he hunts. They were following our tracks."
"Where did they go?"
The little Gaul pointed off into the night, towards the jumble of pillars and wind-carved spires rising from the desert to the north. "That way. They didn't come back." She shivered. "I think they were ghosts."
"Why?"
Betia's face remained impassive, though Thyatis regretted the disbelief in her voice. The girl deserved better-she was no apprentice, not any more!
"When they were well gone, I went down onto the sand," the Gaul said sharply. "They left no tracks. No trace at all. There was a strange feeling in the air."
Thyatis nodded. "If the Persians have allied themselves with infernal powers, they will receive aid from unexpected sources." She shook out her shoulders. "The more distance between us and this place, the better."
Betia said nothing. Thyatis made to take her hand, but the little Gaul flinched away.
"Keep watch behind," Thyatis said, pretending nothing had happened. The girl would deal with these matters in her own way. There was little time for anything but flight now. "Nicholas, let's move. There are lamiae abroad tonight!"
The camels made a low, grumbling sound, but the Latin had bound their mouths closed to prevent the ungainly creatures from bellowing. Vladimir moved downwind, a bundle heavy on his back. Thyatis cast an eye around, making sure they'd left nothing behind. Nicholas rapped the lead camel on the haunch with his switch and the animal shuffled to motion, broad three-toed feet splaying on the sand.
"What did she see?" Nicholas strode up, the hood of his cloak cast back on broad shoulders.
"Two figures," Thyatis answered, settling her feet in a new pair of boots. They were too big for her feet, but Mithridates didn't need them anymore, did he? "Betia didn't think they were human. The only other players in this game are the Persians, so I think they summoned special help-but it didn't quite arrive in time. They must have gotten something from our poet too."
"Huh. Doesn't matter now, does it? Not with the tomb buried under countless tons of sand and rock." Nicholas' voice was very sour in the darkness. Thyatis couldn't see his face in the moonlight, but knew the man was grinding his teeth. "We didn't cover our tracks very well. They could have followed us out here."
"Into a dead end," she said with a certain wry tone. They began to descend from the ridge, down into one of the long, stony valleys running east and west, parallel to the prevailing winds. The footing was poor, but they could make better time than on the soft slopes of the dunes. "Now the question is… did the Persians know where the 'device' really is? I think they didn't-not if they followed us out here."
"True," Nicholas said, his mood lifting. "The Cypriot was telling the truth, then! He hadn't time to contact them between finding his blessed lading document and our arrival." He stopped, though the camel kept ambling along. "Should we go back?"
Thyatis bit her lip, considering the situation. She wished the Duchess were here. Then the conniving old woman could clean up her own mess! The needs of the moment are more pressing, she realized. If the prince's toy spoke true, there is a telecast in there. Is it safe to leave behind, buried in the sand? The Persians might dig it out. Thyatis realized she was fingering the amulet in kind of a nervous tic. Nicholas was staring at her, hands on his hips, head canted to one side.
"No," Thyatis started to say, then stopped. She suddenly recognized the scent she had tasted in the tomb air. Unbidden memories rose, lifting her head with a start.
"What in Hel are you smiling about?" Nicholas growled, picking at the scab around his eye. "Do we go back or not?"
"No." Thyatis shook her head, schooling her lips to a grim, thoughtful line. But her heart was singing, though a corner of her mind cautioned vigorously against disappointment. The coffins were disturbed, she remembered. Someone else was in the tomb with us. She was in the tomb. I smelled her perfume. That's why this toy didn't react-the telecast had already been taken away!