"Smith, Wilbur - [Egyptian 03] - Warlock(txt)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Wilbur)

life back into the beacon fire. In the light of the flames he inspected the
arrow quiver it contained. It was carved from a light tough wood and
covered with finely tooled and stitched leather. The workmanship was
superb. This was the accoutrement of a high-ranking officer. Naja
twisted free the stopper and drew one of the arrows from the container.

He examined it briefly, spinning the shaft between his fingers to check
its balance and symmetry
The Hyksosian arrows were unmistakable. The fletching feathers were
dyed with the bright colours of the archer's regiment and the shaft was
branded with his personal signet. Even if the initial strike was not fatal,
the flint arrowhead was barbed and bound to the shaft in such a way
that if a surgeon attempted to draw the arrow from a victim's flesh, the
head would detach from the shaft and remain deep in the wound
channel, there to putrefy and cause a lingering, painful death. Flint was
much harder than bronze, and would not bend nor flatten if it struck
bone.
Naja slipped the arrow back into the quiver and replaced the stopper.
He had not taken the chance of bringing such distinctive missiles with
him in his chariot. If discovered in his kit by his groom or lance-bearer,
its presence would be remembered, and difficult to explain away.
‘There is much that we still should discuss.' Naja squatted down and
gestured for Trok to do the same. They talked quietly until at last Naja
rose. ‘Enough! Now we both know what must be done. The time for
action has at last arrived.'
‘Let the gods smile upon our enterprise.' Trok and Naja embraced
again, and then, without another word, Naja left him, ran lightly down
the rampart of the tower and took the narrow path down the hill.
Before he reached the bottom he found a place to cache the quiver.
It was a niche where the rock had been split open by the roots of a
thorn tree. Over the quiver he placed a rock the size and roughly the
shape of a horse's head. The twisted upper branches of the tree formed
a distinctive cross against the night sky. He would recognize the place
again without difficulty.
Then he went on down the path to where his chariot stood in the
wadi bottom.

Pharaoh Tamose saw the chariot returning, and knew by the
impetuous manner in which Naja drove that something untoward
was afoot. Quietly he ordered the squadron to mount up and stand
with drawn weapons, ready to meet any eventuality.
Naja's chariot rattled up the pathway from the wadi bottom. The
moment it drew level with where Pharaoh waited he sprang down.
‘What's amiss?' Tamose demanded.
‘A blessing from the gods,' Naja told him, unable to stop his voice

shaking with excitement. ‘They have delivered Apepi defenceless into
our power.
‘How is that possible?'
‘My spies have led me to where the enemy king is encamped but a