of hope, and Huy ran with his face lifted to it, instinct guiding his feet and his will feeding his exhausted body, allowing him to run on when all physical strength was burned up.
In the last low rays of the sun the walls and towers of Opet glowed with a warm rose colour and the surface of the lake was flaming gold that pained the eye.
Huy plunged on down the caravan road, racing past other dusty travellers who pulled to the side of the track, calling after him as they recognized him.
‘Pray for us, Holy Father.’
‘Baal’s blessing on you, Holiness.’
Halfway down the pass of the cliffs that led to the lake shore and the city, the legionary who followed Huy shouted in a clear strong voice, ‘Forgive me, Holy Father, I can go no farther.’ And his knees buckled under him, he lost direction, blundering to the side of the track; his face contorted at the agony of his bursting heart, he went down face first and lay without movement, dead before he struck the ground.
Huy Ben-Amon ran on alone, and the guard upon the palace gate of Opet saw him afar off, and they swung the gates open to welcome him.
Tanith woke with gentle hands shaking her. There was a lamp burning beside her couch, and Aina leaned over her. Tanith saw that the old face was screwed up into a toothless grin, the monkey eyes twinkling in their web of ancient wrinkles.
‘Child, are you awake?’
‘What is it, Aina?’ Tanith sat up quickly, her spirits leaping upwards like sparks from the bonfire of hope when she saw Aina’s smile.
‘He is come! ’ Aina told her jubilantly.
‘Huy?’
‘Yes, the Holy Father has come.’
‘Are you sure?’ Tanith demanded.
‘I have heard it shouted in the streets. The whole city is agog. They say he ran from Zanat to Opet in three days, they say he killed fifteen men who tried to run with him. He broke their hearts and left them lying on the road,’
‘Oh, Aina.’ Tanith embraced the old priestess, hugging her to her breast. ‘If he came so fast, it must be because he knows.’
‘Yes, child. Of course he knows. Why else would he come with such speed? One of the ensigns would have reached him with my message. He knows all right,’ Aina drooled and nodded her conviction. ‘He knows!’
‘Where is he now?’ Tanith was laughing with her excitement, ‘Do you know where he is?’
‘With the king. He went straight to the palace.’
‘Oh, praise the goddess and all the gods,’ breathed Tanith. ‘He has gone to use his influence with the Gry-Lion. Do you think he will succeed, Aina? Will the king change his mind?’
‘Of course, child. Do you doubt it? If Huy Ben-Amon set his mind to it, he would make Baal himself change his mind.’
‘Oh, I am so happy, old mother.’ Tanith clung to Aina, and they comforted each other in the night. Until at last Tanith drew away.
‘Go to him, Aina. Wait for him outside the palace. Tell him everything, and come back to me with his message.’
As Aina was about to leave the chamber Tanith called after her, ‘Tell him I love him. Tell him I love him better than life and all the gods.’
‘Hush,’ said Aina, ‘hush, child. Someone may hear you.’
Alone, Tanith lay back on her couch and smiled.
‘I don’t care,’ she whispered ‘Huy is here, and nothing else matters.’
Lannon listened to Huy in rising consternation. His first thought when Huy had arrived unheralded and unexpected in the night was that he had somehow learned of the sacrifice at tomorrow’s ceremony. He had considered refusing Huy an audience, considered all manner of evasion, but while he was considering it Huy had barged his way into Lannon’s bedchamber past the startled and protesting guards.
Lannon had risen naked from the side of his youngest wife, angry words shrivelled on his lips when he saw the state to which Huy was reduced.
‘Forgive me, Majesty. I carry dreadful tidings.
Lannon stared at him, saw the filthy and dusty tunic, the unkempt hair and beard, the skull-like face from which the flesh had wasted, and the wild eyes in their bruised and sunken sockets.
‘What is it, Huy?’ He went quickly to the priest, and steadied him with a brotherly arm.
The Council of Nine, all the noble families of Opet, met in night session and they heard the report of Huy Ben- Amon in horrified silence. Only when he had croaked out the last of it and slumped wearily on his stool did the babble of fault-finding, and blame-laying, and self-pity and doubt begin.
‘We were told he was destroyed at Sett!’
Huy said, ‘You were told only that I slew 30,000 at Sett. I did not name them.’
‘How could such an army be recruited without our knowledge? Who is to blame?’
Huy answered, ‘It was recruited beyond our borders. No one is to blame.’
‘What of the mines - we must protect them.’
