Max Allan Collins

Mathayus returned the smile, nodding, then turned to Isis. 'And will you stay, and command my soldiers? They could use a woman's touch.'

'I'm sure,' Isis said, and she too smiled, though it was fleeting. 'But I too have a kingdom of my own.'

Balthazar caught the Akkadian's eyes and locked onto them, hard. 'You are a king now—an assassin no more. I think you will make a good one ... as long as you do not forget how you came to your throne ... and the people you came from.'

With a grave nod, Mathayus said, 'Balthazar, I am the last of the Akkadians—the people I came from will live on through me.'

The Nubian glanced at Cassandra, a sparkle in his eyes. 'And your descendants, I trust.'

Mathayus laughed, once. 'And my descendants ... And my friend, there will always be a place in my kingdom for you ... And you, noble queen.'

Solemn nods were exchanged between these war­rior rulers.

Then Mathayus returned his gaze to Balthazar. 'Live free,' he said.

They clasped forearms, in the Akkadian ritual.

'Rule well,' the Nubian said.

Then the man mountain climbed up on his horse, and grinned down at his brother in battle, sizing him up. But the grin had disappeared when he said, 'Nu­bian eyes will be watching you, Scorpion King.'

Mathayus nodded, considering this advice— warning?—and he watched as the big man rode off. Queen Isis and her warriors followed, pausing to bestow surprisingly girlish waves of good-bye.

The Scorpion King turned to the woman he would soon marry, and he held her by her arms, gently, asking, 'And what do you see ahead, my royal sorceress?'

Cassandra thought about that, knowing he was teasing, and yet taking the question seriously. 'Peace,' she said. 'Prosperity.'

'Good! And for how long?'

Her brow wrinkled. 'Ah, well. Nothing lasts for­ever, my king.... That is the truth of all kingdoms. No mystical prophecy is needed to foretell as much.'

Mathayus shrugged, as if to say he understood the validity of this view, and could do nothing about it. He looked toward the horizon, and saw black clouds gathering, looming, roiling... in the dis­tance.

'A storm is coming, my queen,' he said.

'Yes ... many storms will come. But those are new stories, and we are at the end of this one.'

'And the beginning of another?'

She hugged him. 'Yes, oh yes.'

As he held her, his smile turned sly, and he whis­pered, 'How is it that you have these gifts of proph­ecy? Don't the legends say, that if—'

'Perhaps a woman giving herself to the man she loves remains pure in the eyes of the gods.' She stepped out of his embrace, her eyes a-twinkle. 'Or maybe that was just a device, to hold a randy king at bay. Can you think of a better way to keep a lecher from taking advantage of a poor girl? .. . Nei­ther could my ancestors.'

He had to grin at such a family tradition of de­ception. With the speed of the warrior he was, he snatched her back, by the arms. 'Lucky for me,' he said, 'we'll make our own destiny.'

Then the Akkadian assassin, who had become a king, swept the sorceress, who would become a queen—into his grasp, and kissed her, deeply, pas­sionately.

She returned his kiss, but as they embraced out­side the fabled evil city of Gomorrah, she chose not to tell him of a terrible vision that had just come to her.

Cassandra loved this man, and he was a king now—let him enjoy it, while he could.