grotesque as ogres. Little doubt of the artist's opinion of us, Taita thought wryly. Mintaka plucked an arrow from the bin on the dashboard, nocked and drew. She held her aim, the bright yellow fletchings touching her pursed lips as though in a kiss. Trok brought the chariot in towards the first target, trying to give her a fair shot, but the ground was rough. Even though she flexed from the knees to ride the bumps, she swayed with the motion of the carriage.
As the target flashed by Mintaka loosed, and Taita found he was holding his breath for her. He need not have worried for she handled the light bow with perfect aplomb. The arrow slapped into the left eye of the dummy and quivered there, the yellow fletching bright in the sunlight.
'Bak-her!' He applauded, and she laughed with delight as the chariot raced on. Twice more she shot. One arrow lodged deep in the forehead, the next in the mouth of the target. It was excellent shooting even for a veteran charioteer, let alone a slip of a girl.
Trok spun the chariot around the far marker and they came back again. The horses' ears were laid back, their manes flying. Mintaka shot again, scoring another hit right on the tip of the dummy's oversized nose.
'By Horus!' Taita said, with surprise. 'She shoots like a djinn!'
The last target came up fast and Mintaka was balancing gracefully, cheeks flushed and white teeth gleaming as she bit her lip in concentration. She shot and the arrow flew high and right missing the head by the breadth of a hand.
Trok, you clumsy oaf! You drove straight into that hole just as I was loosing!' she yelled at him.
She jumped down from the chariot while it was still moving and blazed up at Trok, 'You did that on purpose to make a fool of me in the sight of the Magus!'
'Your Highness, I am mortified by my own incompetence.' The mighty Trok was as awkward as a small boy in the face of her anger. Taita saw that his feelings for her were every bit as ardent as he had suspected.
'You are not forgiven. I shall not allow you the privilege of driving me again. Not ever.'
Taita had not seen her show such spirit before, and this, together with her recent exhibition of marksmanship, sent his good opinion of her to an even higher level. This is a fitting wife for any man, even a pharaoh of the Tamosian dynasty, he decided, but he was careful not to show any sign of levity, lest Mintaka switch her wrath to him. He need not have worried, though, for as soon as she turned to face him her smile bloomed again.
'Four out of five is good enough for a warrior of the Red Road, Your Highness,' Taita assured her, 'and it was indeed a treacherous hole that you hit.'
'You must be thirsty, Taita. I know I am.' She took his hand artlessly and led him to where her maids had spread a woven woollen rug at the edge of the river, and laid out platters of sweetmeats and jugs of sherbet.
'There is so much I have to ask you, Taita,' she told him, as she settled on the sheepskin rug beside him. 'I have not seen you since you left Bubasti.'
'How is your brother, Khyan?' He forestalled her question.
'He is his usual self,' she laughed, 'if not even naughtier than before. My father has ordered that he join us here as soon as he has fully recovered. He wants all his family around him when the truce is signed.' They chatted of trivialities for a while longer, but Mintaka was distracted. He waited for her to broach the subject uppermost in her mind. She surprised him by turning suddenly to Trok, who was standing nearby with a hang-dog air.
'You may leave us now, my lord,' she said to him coolly.
'Will you ride with me again tomorrow morning, Princess?' Trok was close to pleading.
Tomorrow I shall probably be otherwise occupied.'
'Then the day after?' Even his moustache seemed to droop pitifully. 'Fetch me my bow and my quiver before you go,' she ordered, ignoring his question. He brought them to her like a lackey, and placed them close to her hand.
'Farewell, my lord.' She turned back to Taita. Trok hovered for a few minutes longer, then stumped off to his chariot.
As he drove off Taita murmured, 'How long has Trok been in love with you?'
She looked startled then laughed delightedly. 'Trok in love with me? Why, that's ridiculous! Trok is as ancient as the Pyramids at Giza - he must be almost thirty years old! And he has three wives and Hathor only knows how many concubines!'
Taita drew one of her arrows from the magnificently decorated quiver and inspected it casually. The fletchings were blue and yellow, and he touched the tiny carved signet on the shaft.
'The three stars of the Hunter's belt,' he remarked, 'with Mintaka the brightest.'
'Blue and yellow are my favourite colours.' She nodded. 'My arrows are all made for me by Grippa. He is the most famous fletcher in Avaris. Each of the arrows he makes is perfectly straight and balanced to fly true. His decorations and signets are works of art. Look how he has carved and painted my star.' Taita turned the arrow between his fingers and admired it at length, before returning it to the quiver.
'What is Trok's arrow signet?' he asked casually.
She made a gesture of annoyance. 'I do not know. For all I care it is probably a wild hog, or an ox. I have had enough of Trok for this day and many days to come.' She poured sherbet into Taita's bowl. 'I know how you like honey.' Ostentatiously she changed the subject, and Taita waited for her to choose the next.
'Now, I have certain delicate things to discuss with you,' she admitted shyly. She picked a wild flower from the grass on which they sat and began to twist it into the beginning of a garland, still not looking at him, but her cheeks, which had lost the flush of exertion, turned rosy once more.
'Pharaoh Nefer Seti is fourteen years and five months old, almost a year older than you. He was born under the sign of the Ibex, which makes a fine match for your Cat.'
Taita had anticipated her, and she looked up at him in astonishment. 'How did you know what I was going to ask you?' Then she clapped her hands. 'Of course you knew. You are the Magus.'
