Max Allan Collins

rivaled the stars. And yet the three Akkadians advanced, a tiny assault force against an army. They performed reconnaissance, noting the positions of the various sentries ringing the encampment, perched on their individual dunes, warriors in breastplates and hel­mets and peplum, surrounded by torches on staffs stuck in the sand.

Poor strategy, Mathayus thought; for whatever warmth and close-by light those torches would pro­vide, so too would the flames blind the sentries of advancing trespassers . .. like the Akkadians....

The mustached Rama, the lightest-skinned of the trio, had darkened his face with black war paint, to better blend into the night. Neither Jesup nor Ma­thayus bothered with this—their bronze complex­ions were a natural camouflage—but then Rama would have to get in closer, at first anyway.

The nearest dune-positioned sentry yawned—no doubt complacent in his duties .. . after all, what en­emy remained to attack the horde that had con­quered all but a tiny corner of the world? And he merely frowned and turned, curiously, at the strange whirring that flew out of the darkness like a desert bird.

This was no bird, however—the iron bola.. . flung by Rama ... came spinning out of the dark­ness to wrap its chain around the guard's head, with whiplash speed, the iron ball at either end knocking the man in either temple, thwap!, thwap!

The sentry tumbled to the sand—his leather ar­mor made more noise than he did, and then very little—landing flat on his back, as if he were lounging there, to consider the night sky.

Within moments, Mathayus—who had edged in under cover of darkness to the bottom of the dune, prior to Rama's bola attack—scrambled up the hill of sand and sat the sentry up, propping him in part by placing the man's spear back in his hand ... still on duty, if sitting down on the job.

The white camel came loping up the dune after her master, just as Mathayus was unwrapping the bola from around the sentry's skull. Hanna groaned and nose-nudged the assassin—it was as if the beast were saying, after its long day's journey, No time for fun and games now... we should be setting camp for the night!

'Easy, girl,' the Akkadian whispered.

The camel's response was typically stubborn: she

folded her spindly legs and sat down. Mathayus

shook his head, knowing this was no time to try to

reason with the beast... or discipline her, either. As

with any woman, there were simply things a man

had to put up with__

Mathayus looked to the left, where—some dis­tance away at the camp's perimeter—a crude wooden lookout platform bore a single sentry. To the right, a neighboring dune also sported a sentry ... again, a bored guard who stood at the center of torches speared into the sand, his vision bedimmed by the flames. This sentry would be next.

The Akkadian's long low whistle might have been a nocturnal bird ...

... and not a signal which spurred Rama to fur­ther action.

Again, a bola whirled through the night to whip around the head of a guard, who flopped backward onto the sand.

Another nocturnal bird seemed to issue its mournful cry: Rama signaling 'all clear' to Matha­yus.

But Hanna's displeasure with the activities of the evening manifested itself with a honking groan, and her master clasped a hand over the camel's mouth.

'Be good!' the Akkadian whispered, glaring at the beast, who frowned a pout in response, before flapping her gums and settling.

Hanna's action almost covered the soft hiss of movement just behind Mathayus, but the Akkadian's ears were finely tuned, honed to the night, and he spun around, hand on his scimitar hilt.

But it was only the elder warrior, Jesup, who asked, 'Ready?'

Mathayus nodded, and gestured toward the sentry on