at the head of the staircase that led down to the level of the Nile and
the Epiphany shrine where he had stored the boats. Panting, he searched
the gloom of the deep basin below him into which the sunlight se! Clom
reached, but the moving clouds of silver spray from the twin waterfalls
screened the depths. He had no way of telling if Sapper and Royan were
down there waiting for him, or if they had run into trouble on the
trail.
He adjusted the tattered and bloodstained bandage around his chin, and
then started down. Then he heard her voice in the silver mist below him,
calling his name, and she came pelting up the slippery, slime-covered
stairs towards him.
'Nicholas! Oh, thank God! I thought you weren't coming.' She would have
rushed into his embrace, but then she saw his bandaged and blood-smeared
face, and she stopped and stared at him, appalled.
Sweet Mary!' she whispered. 'What happened to you, Nickyr
'A little tiff with Jake Helm. Just a scratch, but I am 4, not much good
at kissing right now,' he mumbled, trying to grin around the bandage,
'You will have to wait for later.'
He put one arm around her shoulders, almost swinging her off her feet,
as he turned her to face down the stairs again.
'Where are the others?' He hurried her down.
'They are all here,' she told him. 'Sapper and Mek are pumping the boats
and loading.'
'Tessay?'
'She's safe.'
They scrambled down the last flight of steps on to the jetty below the
Epiphany shrine. The Nile had risen ten feet since Nicholas had last
stood there. The river was full and angry, muddy and swift. He could
barely make out the cliffs on the far bank through the drifting clouds
of spray.
The five Avon boats were drawn up at the edge. Four of them were already
fully inflated, and the last one was billowing and swelling as the air
was released into it from the compressed air cylinder. Mek and Sapper
were packing the ammunition crates into the ready boats and strapping
them down under green nylon cargo nets.
Sapper looked up at Nicholas and a comical expression of astonishment
spread over his bluff features, 'What the blue bleeding blazes happened
to your face?'
'Tell you about it one day,' Nicholas promised, and turned to embrace
Mek.
'Thank you, old friend,' he said sincerely, 'Your men fought well, and
you waited for me.' Nicholas glanced at the row of wounded guerrillas
that lay against the foot of the cliff. 'How many casualties?'
'Three dead, and these six wounded. It could have been much worse if
Nogo's men had pushed us harder.'
'Still, it's too many,' said Nicholas.
'Even one is too many,' Mek agreed gruffly.
'Where are the rest of your men?'
(on the run for the border. Kept just enough of them with me to handle
the boats.' Mek stripped the filthy bandage from Nicholas's chin. Royan
