where we were sleeping. They gave us no warning. They just started
shooting.
"How many of them? Who were they?" Nicholas demanded.
"I do not know how many of them there were. It was dark. I was asleep. I
ran away when the shooting began.
They were shufta, bandits, killers. They were hyenas and jackals - there
was no reason for what they have done.
These men were my brothers, my friends." He began to sob, and the tears
streamed down his face.
Royan turned away, sickened and horrified. She went to her hut and
stopped in the doorway. It had been ransacked. Her bags had been turned
out on to the floor.
Her bedding had been stripped, and the mattress thrown into the corner.
As though she were a sleepwalker in a nightmare, she crossed the floor
and picked up the canvas folder in which she kept her papers. She turned
it upside down and shook it. It was empty. The satellite photo graphs
and the maps, all her rubbings of the stele, the Polaroids that Nicholas
had taken in Tanus's tomb - everything was gone.
Royan picked up the bed and set it the right way up.
She sat down on it, and tried to gather her thoughts. She felt confused
and shaken. The image of those bloody, bullet-ripped corpses laid out in
front of the kitchen haunted her, and she found it difficult to
concentrate and to think clearly.
Nicholas burst into her hut and looked around quickly.
"They did the same thing to me. Ransacked the place. My rifle has gone,
and all my papers. But at least I had the passports and travellers'
cheques in my day-pack-' He broke off as he saw the empty canvas folder
lying at her feet. "Have they taken the-'
"Yes!" she forestalled his question. "They have cleaned out all our
research material, even the Polaroids. Thank God you had the undeveloped
rolls of film with you. It's the same as happened to Duraid and me all
over again. We aren't safe from them, even here,'even out in the
remotest part of the bush." There was the edge of hysteria in her voice.
She jumped up from the bed and ran to him.
"Oh, Nicky, what would have happened if we had been in camp last night?"
She threw her arms around him, and clung to him. "We would be lying out
there in the sun now, all bloody and covered with flies."
"Steady on, my dear. Let's not jump to any conclusions.
This could just be a chance raid by bandits."
"Then why did they steal our papers? What value would ordinary shtifta
place on rubbings and Polaroids?
Where was the Pegasus helicopter heading just before the raid? They were
after us, Nicky. I feel it so strongly. They wanted to kill us just as
they did Duraid. They could return at any time, and now we are unarmed
and helpless."
"All right, I agree with you that we are pretty vulnerable here. It
would be wise to get out as soon as possible.
There isn't any point in staying on here anyway. There's nothing more we
can do at this stage." He hugged her and shook her gently. "Brace up! We
will salvage what we can from this mess, and then get moving back to the
vehicles right away."
"What about the dead men?" She stood back, and with an effort forced
back her, tears and brought herself under control. "How many of our
people survived?"
"Aly, Salin and Kif escaped. They dived out of their huts and ran off
into the darkness as soon as the shooting started. I have told them to
get ready to leave right away. I have spoken to one of the senior
priests. They will take care of the burial of the dead, and will report
to the authorities as soon as they are able. But they agree that the
attack was aimed at us, and that we are still in danger, and that we
should get away as soon as possible."
Within the hour they were ready to start. Nicholas had decided to leave
all the camping equipment and Boris's personal gear in the charge of
Jali Hora. The mules were lightly loaded, and he planned to make a
forced march out of the gorge.
The abbot had given them an escort of monks to accompany them to the top
of the escarpment. "Only a truly Godless man would attack you while you
are under the protection of the crosss' he explained.
Nicholas found the dried hide and head of the striped dik-dik still in
the skinning shed. He rolled it into a bundle and strapped it on to the
load atop one of the mules, and then gave the order for the attenuated
caravan to move out.
Tamre had insinuated himself into the group of monks who were escorting
the party. He kept close behind Royan as they set off up the trail, with
the lamentations and farewells of the monastic community following them
for the first mile.
It was hot in this brutal midday. There was no movement of air to bring
relief, and the stone walls of the valley sucked up the heat of that
awful sun and spewed it back over them as they toiled up the steep
gradients. It dried their sweat even as it oozed through their pores,
leaving patterns of white salt crystals on their skins and clothing. The
muleteers, spurred on by fear, set a killing pace, trotting behind their
beasts and prodding their testicles with a sharpened stick to keep them
moving at their best pace.
By midafternoon they had retraced the morning's travel and once more
reached the putative site of Taita's dam wall. Nicholas and Royan took a
few.minutes'breather to dip their heads in the river and sluice the salt
and sweat from their faces and necks. Then they stood together above the
falls and took a brief farewell of the chasm in which lay all their
hopes and dreams.
"How long until we return?"she asked.
"We cannot afford to leave it too long," he told her.
"Big rains are due soon, and the hyenas have got the scent and are
crowding in. From now on every day will be precious, and every hour we
lose may be crucial."
She stared down into the chasm and said softly, "You haven't won yet,
Taita. The game is still afoot."
They turned away together and followed the mules up the trail towards
the escarpment wall. That evening they did not stop at the traditional
campsite beside the river, but pressed on several miles further until
darkness forced a halt. There was no attempt to build a comfortable
camp.
They dined on cakes of injera bread dipped in the wat pot that the monks
had carried with them. Then Nicholas and Royan spread their bedrolls
side by side on the stony earth and, using the mule packs as pillows,
fell into exhausted, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, while the mules were being loaded in the pre-dawn
darkness, they drank a bowl of strong bitter black Ethiopian coffee.
Then they started out along the trail again.
As the rising sun lit the sheer walls of the escarpment ahead of them
they seemed close enough to touch, and Nicholas remarked to Royan, as
she swung along longlegged beside him, "At this pace we should reach the
foot of the escarpment this afternoon, and there is a good chance that
we might sleep tonight in the cavern behind the waterfall."
"That means we could cut a couple of days off the journey and reach the
trucks some time tomorrow."
"Possibly," he said. "I'll be glad to get out of here."
"It feels like a trap," Royan agreed, looking at the rocky, broken
ground that rose on either hand, hemming them into the narrow bottom of
the Dandera river. "I have been doing a bit of thinking, Nicky."
"Let's hear your conclusions."
"No conclusions, only some disturbing thoughts. Suppose somebody at
Pegasus who can understand them is now in possession of our rubbings and