Max Allan Collins

even the lovely Queen Isis. Only one tribal leader had not responded to the question ...

. .. Balthazar.

And finally all faces turned toward the Nubian giant, waiting. His eyes like cuts in his scarred vis­age, Balthazar released a deep sigh, and then... nodded.

King Pheron turned his gaze upon the Akkadian trio, nodding himself.

'So be it,' the king said.

The eldest of the Akkadian trio, Jesup, stepped forward, going to the king, accepting the offered pouch of rubies. Half bowing to the monarch, Jesup pledged the Akkadian's blood oath.

'As long as one of us breathes,' Jesup swore to the king, 'the sorcerer will die.'

Jesup rejoined his fellow Akkadians, and the cloaked trio began to take their leave, again moving through the armed guards, who stepped aside for them.

'Assassin!' a deep voice called out.

Mathayus spun and Balthazar hurled the kama back at him, the scythe whipping and whirring and whirling...

... until the unmarked Akkadian plucked it from the air, like a ball a boy had tossed him.

Mathayus raised a single eyebrow as he studied the giant Nubian, who did his best to hide his amazement.

To Pheron, Mathayus said, 'If you should want him killed ... that we'll do for free.'

And then the cloaked trio was swallowed by the night, leaving behind a circle of fire and an aston­ished tribal council.

_{The Sorcerer's Secret}

T

he desert location, where the encampment of Memnon's army was last known to be, meant a full day's ride through hill country. Starting at dawn, the Akkadians made their steady way across the rug­ged, rocky terrain, Jesup and Rama on horseback, Mathayus—a massive, intricately carved bow slung over his shoulder, five arrows attached to its side in a clip—astride an albino camel.

This mount—the bag of rubies had been tucked away into a hiding place of the saddle by Matha­yus—was called Hanna by his master, who consid­ered the camel a magnificent albeit stubborn creature. The elder Akkadian, the hard-bitten Jesup, deemed Hanna a filthy beast.

'When are you going to get rid of that moth-eaten bag of fleas?' Jesup had asked at daybreak, just as the broad-shouldered Akkadian was mounting her.

Hanna—who understood at least as many words as the average five-year-old child—turned toward Jesup with regal condescension and spat at him.

Mathayus laughed as the older Akkadian, on horseback, reared back; and the camel's master had no recriminations for the animal, whose neck he pat­ted, settling her.

'Steady, girl,' Mathayus said. 'He doesn't mean anything by it.'

But Jesup's expression had said, Like hell!

Still, even the veteran Akkadian warrior would have had to admit—if pressed—that the dromedary was far better suited for navigating the craggy, scraggy terrain than his and Rama's steeds.

As the morning turned to afternoon, the rocks gave way to sand and the sun seemed like a hole in the sky letting the fire of the gods blast through. The custom of the Akkadians was not to wear the peplum common for so many warriors in those days; rather they had shunned tunics for leather breeches ... though under so severe a sun, even a brawler like Mathayus could understand the appeal of a skirt for a man. On the other hand, when the sun fell, so did the temperature, and the wind had a startling bite, the night vivid with a moon-touched blueness that turned the desert a surreal, deceptively soothing shade of sapphire.

From the crest of a dune, they saw Memnon's city of tents, with campfires whose numbers