He hefted the sword in his right hand. It was a heavy infantry model but it felt familiar and comfortable in his grip. Many years ago he had written the manual of arms for Pharaoh's regiments, and swordsmanship was one of his passionate interests. Since then age had taken from him the force of his right arm, but now it was restored to him, as was his agility and fleetness of foot. He parried the thrust of the first assailant and ducked under the cut of the second. Keeping low, he slashed at the back of the man's ankle, neatly severing his Achilles tendon. Then he jumped up and pirouetted unexpectedly between the two before either could recover. The unwounded man turned to follow him, but as he did so he opened his flank and Taita stabbed deep in his armpit, sliding the point of his blade between the ribs. With a twist of his wrist, he turned it in the wound, opening it wide and freeing it from the suction of wet flesh. His victim dropped to his knees coughing up gouts of blood from pierced lungs. Taita spun away to face the trooper he had crippled.
The man's eyes filled with terror and he tried to back away but his maimed foot flopped nervelessly, and he almost fell. Taita feinted for his face and, when he raised his guard to protect his eyes, sent a thrust into his belly, cleared his blade and jumped back. The man dropped his weapon and fell to his knees. Taita stepped forward again and stabbed down into the back of his neck, under the rim of his helmet. The trooper dropped face down and lay still.
Taita jumped over the two corpses and went to the first man he had killed. Unlike the others, his uniform was not bloodstained. Swiftly he stripped off the man's sandals and laced them on to his own bare feet.
They were a tolerable fit. He strapped the sword belt and scabbard round his waist, then took the helmet and cloak and pulled them on as he ran for the rear doors of the citadel. He slowed to a walk as he reached them and spread the scarlet cloak to cover his torn, soiled tunic. As he marched towards the doors he sent out an impulse to lull the minds of the sentries who guarded them. They glanced at him with little interest as he passed between them and went down the marble steps into the courtyard.
The parade-ground was bustling with the men and horses of Onka's regiment preparing for campaign. Taita saw Onka himself strutting about and shouting orders to his captains. He mingled with the throng and passed close to Onka as he made his way towards the stables. Although Onka glanced in his direction he showed no sign of recognition.
Taita reached the stableyard without being accosted. Here, there was the same furious activity. The farriers were reshoeing the horses, the armourers were busy at the grindstones sharpening arrowheads and blades, and the grooms were saddling the officers' mounts. Taita thought of attempting to steal a horse from the lines, but he realized there was almost no hope of that plan succeeding. Instead he made his way towards the back wall of the palace compound.
The stench guided him to the latrines tucked behind the buildings.
When he found them he looked around carefully to make sure he was unobserved. A sentry was patrolling the top of the walls above him, so he waited for the diversion he knew must come. It was not long before he heard angry shouts from the direction of the citadel. Whistles bleated and a dnimbeat signalled the call to arms. The three bodies he had left in the passage had been discovered, and the attention of the garrison was focused on the citadel. The sentry rushed to the far end of the parapet from where he stared out over the parade-ground to find the reason for the alarm. His back was turned.
Taita swung himself up on to the flat roof of the latrines. From there the top of the wall was within reach. He took a run and leapt for the lip of the parapet, then he pulled himself up with both arms until he could throw a leg over. He rolled across the top of the wall and dropped over the far side. It was a long fall, but he rode the shock of landing with braced legs and glanced round swiftly. The sentry was still gazing away from him. The edge of the forest was close by and he darted across the
open ground into the trees. Here he took a minute to orient himself, then began the steep climb into the foothills, using the cover of gullies, long grass and shrubs to hide himself from a chance watcher belbw.
When he reached the crest of the hill he peered over it cautiously. The road that led up to the Cloud Gardens was just beneath him. It was deserted. He ran down, crossed it quickly and took cover in a patch of scrub. From there he could see across to the horse's head grove of trees on the next promontory. He bounded down the scree slope into the valley, the loose stones rolling under his feet, and reached the bottom without losing his balance. He trotted along the base of the hill and came to an opening. The valley sides were steep and he went a short distance into it, then turned and climbed to a vantage-point from where he could watch the entrance and settled down to wait.
The sun reached its zenith, then began to drop towards the horizon.
He saw dust on the road across the valley. It looked as though a large troop of cavalry was riding hard towards the east. An hour or so passed, and then he heard the faint sound of hoofs coming closer. He sat up, alert. A small band of riders appeared below him and stopped.
Sidudu was at the front, mounted on a chestnut pony. She pointed up the valley towards where Taita was hiding. Meren spurred past her and took the lead. The party came on at a trot, Meren followed closely by a lovely young woman on a grey colt. Her long legs were bare and her blonde hair was tumbled by the wind on to her shoulders. She was slim, the set of her shoulders proud. Even from this distance Taita could see her breasts standing out under the bleached linen of her tunic. The wind flicked aside her golden curls to reveal her face, and Taita drew a sharp breath. It was Fenn, but a different Fenn from the girl he had known and loved. This was a confident, poised young woman in the first flower of her beauty.
Fenn was riding her grey colt and she had Windsmoke on a lead rein behind her. Hilto rode at her right hand. Nakonto and Imbali followed them closely, both mounted and sitting their horses well — they had learnt new skills in the many months he had been away. Taita left the ledge on which he squatted and scrambled down the cliff. He jumped out and dropped down the last steep pitch. The scarlet cloak opened round him like a pair of wings, but the visor of the leather helmet obscured the top half of his face. He landed in the path directly before Meren.
With the reflexes of a trained warrior, Meren saw the Jarrian uniform and rode at him with an intimidating yell, drawing his sword and
swinging it high. Taita had only just enough time to straighten and draw his own weapon. Meren leant from the saddle and hacked at his head.
Taita turned the blow with his blade and jumped aside. Meren pulled his horse down on its haunches and dragged its head round. Then he came back at the charge. Taita ripped the helmet off his head and threw it aside. 'Meren! It is Taita,' he yelled.
'You lie! You are nothing like the magus!' Meren did not check his charge. He leant out from the saddle and levelled his blade, sighting along it at the centre of Taita's chest. At the last moment Taita swayed aside and the point of the sword grazed his shoulder as Meren swept past.
Taita shouted at Fenn as she rode forward. 'Fenn! It is me. Taita.'
