their tasks, as silent as the explorer. The loss of their incessant chatter and easy smiles, the empty space where the guide once had trod, affected everyone, and much of the time no sound could be heard but the braying of a donkey, a hoof striking a stone, or a smattering of curses when the sand was especially soft, making walking difficult.
Like everyone else, Bak walked in silence, weighted down by Dedu’s death. He could not understand why the guide had had to die. True, his death fit a pattern of sorts. Minnakht was an explorer, as was the man who had vanished almost a year earlier. The man slain north of Kaine looked to be a soldier, an archer, perhaps a man who patrolled the desert. Bak smiled grimly at himself, acknowledging a guess stretched to fit the known facts.
Dedu had served as a guide, as Nefertem’s father had, and both had traveled with explorers. Unlike the tribal chief’s parent, Dedu had not led any men or caravans through the desert for many years. What could have happened in the nine short days he had been with User that had made him a target for death?
As the sun dropped behind the red mountain, leaving the eastern slopes in shadow and the surrounding heights bathed in the hot glow of late afternoon, clouds enveloped the tops of its craggy pinnacles. Senna and the nomad drovers grew wary, constantly looking toward the hidden peaks. User mumbled something about rain.
Dusk deepened the shadows. The breeze lost its heat. The faraway roll of thunder could be heard and long spindly fin gers of lightning flickered through the clouds, reaching out to the peaks hidden among them. User suggested they look for higher ground on which they could spend the night should the wadi be inundated by floodwaters.
Bak, who had long ago witnessed a desert storm while hunting in the broken landscape west of Waset, knew the power of the torrents that infrequently filled the dry water courses, washing away everything in their path. He had also seen the wadis on the southern frontier filled with racing wa ter from storms so far away that not a cloud could be seen. He sent Nebre and Kaha on ahead to scout the hillsides and the tiny feeder wadis, telling them to seek a safe haven.
The clouds dropped lower over the mountain, enveloping the slopes below the pinnacles. The flashes of lightning drew closer, so bright they blinded the men trudging along the wadi.
The thunder was loud enough to awaken those who dwelt in the netherworld. The donkeys grew uneasy and threatened to bolt. Minmose and Rona strove to calm Bak’s string of ani mals, while Amonmose, Nebenkemet, and even Ani and
Wensu stepped in to help the drovers control User’s string.
While the gods were rampaging over the mountain, the sky above and to the south and east was twilight bright and empty of clouds. None but the moon and the most brilliant stars could outshine the firmament. The wadi was filled with an eerie yellowish glow, which drained the landscape of its reddish color. The air smelled different, clean and damp.
User, walking with Bak near the head of the caravan, pointed to three gazelles ascending a hillside farther to the north. “They fear a flood. They’re climbing to safety.”
“If my men don’t find a safe place soon, we’d better follow their example and drive the donkeys up into the rocks.”
“These storms don’t usually last for long, but they can drop a significant amount of water. With no soil or sand to absorb it, huge quantities can race down the mountainside, carrying away boulders as large as a house.”
Not to mention men and animals, Bak thought, shuddering.
The storm ended as quickly as it had begun. The lightning and thunder faded away. The clouds fragmented and scat tered, leaving a silhouette of the mountain displayed against a flaming sunset sky. The features of its pinnacles were lost in the deep shadow of dusk. The donkeys grew calmer, but their ears remained cocked and alert. Whether they sensed a threat or could feel the men’s unease, no one knew.
The lord Re entered the netherworld and darkness fell.
The moon glowed its brightest and stars lit up the sky, allow ing the men to see a surprising distance ahead. Bak and User were watching two gazelles, a mother and her young, climb a steep, rocky slope when Nebre and Kaha appeared around a bend in the wadi. The Medjays hurried up the watercourse to meet the caravan.
“We found a place to camp, sir,” Nebre said. “A wide, flat shelf too high for floodwaters to reach. It offers plenty of space for all of us, men and animals.”
“How far away?” User asked.
“At the pace you’re traveling, it’s almost an hour’s walk down this wadi. And there’s no clear path up to the shelf.
We may have to unload the donkeys to get them up the slope.”
“Nothing closer?”
“No, sir.”
“The gazelle have been climbing to higher ground for al most an hour,” Bak pointed out.
“We saw a few, and a couple of ibex.” Kaha, looking none too happy, eyed the mountain, a dark mass looming above the wadi to the northwest. “We can climb up into the rocks at any point along the way, but getting the donkeys to safety wouldn’t be easy. If water comes racing down this wadi, we wouldn’t have time to unload them.”
“We must push them harder,” Bak said, “and tell the men in the back to close ranks. We don’t want the caravan spread out should we have to save ourselves.”
Looking grim, User swung around and walked back along the row of animals.
Thanking the lord Amon that the explorer was proving far less difficult than he had originally seemed, Bak walked with the Medjays back to his sergeant. “You must take our don keys on ahead, Psuro. Kaha will show you the place where we’ll camp. The two of you must find the best paths up to the shelf and clear them of obstacles if need be. The rest of us must stay behind to keep User’s caravan moving.”
“What of Senna?”
Bak eyed the nomad guide leading the caravan. “You won’t need him. We will.”
“We’re about two-thirds of the way to the shelf where we’ll camp,” Nebre said, eyeing a large monolithic rock pro jecting from the wadi floor.
Bak accepted the statement as fact. While on the southern frontier, his Medjays had learned from the desert tribesmen to use such formations and other less obvious natural forms to find their way across the desert.
Nebre paused, raised a hand for silence, and listened.
Bak heard it, too, a faroff roaring sound. “A landslide?”
“You might call it that.” User scowled at the mountain towering off to their left. “That’s water rushing down a slope, carrying rocks and boulders with it.”
Feeling the worm of fear creep up his spine, Bak tried to sound hopeful. “It sounds too far north to flood this wadi.”
“The mountain must be draining in that direction. The first rains fell there, I’d wager.”
“Would the rain have traveled with the lightning as it came this way?”
User gave him a grim smile. “You never know what the gods intend, Lieutenant, but I’d not be surprised to see water before sunrise.”
“Pull him up!” Amonmose yelled and slapped the donkey hard on the flank.
Nebenkemet, standing at the animal’s head, holding a rope that had been tied around its neck and forequarters in a fash ion Bak thought exceedingly clever, literally hoisted it up the steep, narrow gap between two boulders.
While the craftsman urged the donkey on up the hill to the shelf where Minmose and Psuro waited to unload the sup plies it carried, Bak went to the next animal in line. There he found Ani standing a couple paces up an incline covered with loose rock chips, tugging ineffectually on a donkey’s halter.
The animal’s two front hooves were on the slope, but it re fused to climb farther on the treacherous surface. Bak whacked it on the flank and shoved. With a furious bray, the creature lunged up the slope, sending rocks clattering down behind it. Ani scurried out of its way and hurried along be side it, guiding it to the shelf.
Bak helped Rona coax a donkey up a steeper but more sta ble path and waited to help Wensu follow with another ani mal. He and User had decided not to unload the donkeys except as a last resort. They had to assume their time was limited, and they did not have enough men to carry the heavy water jars and other supplies and, at the same time, urge the tired and stubborn creatures up the difficult slope.
