Max Allan Collins

ragtag crew upon whom rested the hopes of a future without Memnon. The only sign of life in the clear light of dawn was a single fire, around which the horse thief, the scientist and the Akkadian con­ferred.

And the latter seemed to be gathering his weap­ons, preparing for battle.

Balthazar quickly slung on his own sword, and headed down the pathway, prepared to deal with this problem, once and for all.

He strode up to the Akkadian, who was arranging his belt with daggers and kama, the massive scimitar already in place. 'What strife are you stirring now, assassin?'

Mathayus did not respond; the huge warrior standing before him might not have existed.

Fury began to rise like steam within the Nubian, but suddenly Queen Isis was next to him, her fingers on his arm; it was as if she had materialized.

'The sorceress is gone,' she said, in a hushed, somber tone. 'Returned to Gomorrah.'

Balthazar snorted a laugh. 'Back to Memnon's bed, no doubt!'

The Akkadian whirled, fire in his eyes. 'She is not his woman—she never has been, and never will!'

The Nubian frowned. 'If she is your woman, Ak­kadian, where is she now? What sends her flying back to the safety of Gomorrah?'

'Safety is not what she seeks,' the assassin said. 'She is braver than any of us ... than all of us, com­bined. Hear me, king—she saw your people de­stroyed.'

'What? How—'

'In a vision, last night. She saw Memnon here, in this place, slaughtering all around us, to find her, and gather her back to his snake's den ... and to stop that nightmare from coming true, she went back to him ... to her cage.'

Balthazar tried to fathom this. 'She ... sacrificed her freedom for us?'

Arpid raised an eyebrow. 'At least.'

Mathayus had returned to arming himself, pre­paring his things for departure. 'I'm getting her back, before he ... I'm going after her.'

The king snorted another laugh, though the de­rision was out of it. 'I see—and you now expect me, and my people, to help you. Because some crazy woman saw a vision.'

'I don't expect anything from you.' The Akka­dian paused and looked hard at the Nubian. 'And yesterday she was not a 'crazy woman'—but the sorceress who you feared would lead Memnon to this hideout. Well, she's spared you ... so spare me your 'wisdom' ... O great king.'

And the assassin strode away, to saddle up one of the horses inherited from the men of Memnon who'd been slaughtered in the sandstorm battle.

Balthazar felt a strange mix of emotions—annoy­ance at the Akkadian's sarcastic disrespect; and yet an admiration for his bravery. And, too, he did feel humbled by the lady oracle's sacrifice for the tribal people....

The Nubian shook his head, and said to Isis, 'The fool. Would he face Memnon alone?'

But it was the thief who, matter-of-factly, replied: 'He said he would.'

And Philos added, gravely, 'He is nothing if not a man of his word.'

Balthazar felt the eyes of Isis on him, and he turned to her; their gazes locked. Then the Nubian sighed heavily, and nodded to her .. . and the lovely warrior queen smiled.

Within minutes, Mathayus was spurring his speed toward the opening in the rocks,