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

‘Tell me again!' Nefer ordered.
Taita sat down on a stone block while Nefer settled at his feet in
happy anticipation and listened avidly, until the rams' horns of the
squadron sounded the recall with a blast that shattered into diminishing
echoes along the black cliffs. ‘Pharaoh summons us,' Taita said, and
stood up to lead the way back through the gate.
There was a great bustle and scurry outside the walls, as the squadron
made ready to go on into the dune lands. The waterskins were bulging
again and the troopers were checking and tightening the harness of
their teams before mounting up.
Pharaoh Tamose looked over the heads of his staff as the pair came
through the gateway, and summoned Taita to his side with an inclination of his head. Together they walked out of earshot of the squadron
officers. Lord Naja made as if to join them. Taita whispered a word to
Pharaoh, then Tamose turned and sent Naja back with a curt word. The
injured lord, flushed with mortification, shot a look at Taita that was
fierce and sharp as a war arrow.
‘You have offended Naja. Some day I might not be at hand to protect
you,' Pharaoh warned.
‘We dare trust no man,' Taita demurred. ‘Not until we crush the head
of the serpent of treachery that tightens its coils around the pillars of
your palace. Until you return from this campaign in the north only the
two of us must know where I am taking the Prince.'
‘But Naja!' Pharaoh laughed dismissively. Naja was like a brother.
They had run the Red Road together.
‘Even Naja.' Taita said no more. His suspicions were at last hardening
into certainty, but he had not yet gathered all the evidence he would
need to convince Pharaoh.
‘Does the Prince know why you are going into the fastness of the
desert?' Pharaoh asked.
‘He knows only that we are going to further his instruction in the
mysteries, and to capture his godbird.'
‘Good, Taita.' Pharaoh nodded. ‘You were ever secretive but true.
There is nothing more to say, for we have said it all. Now go, and may
Horus spread his wings over you and Nefer.'
‘Look to your own back, Majesty, for in these days enemies are
standing behind you as well as to your front.
Pharaoh grasped the Magus' upper arm and squeezed hard. Under his
fingers the arm was thin but hard as a dried acacia branch. Then he
went back to where Nefer waited beside the wheel of the royal chariot,
with the injured air of a puppy ordered back to its kennel.
‘Divine Majesty, there are younger men than me in the squadron.'
The Prince made one last despairing effort to persuade his father that
he should ride with the chariots. Pharaoh knew that the boy was right,
of course. Meren, the grandson of the illustrious General Kratas, was his
junior by three days and today was riding with his father as lance-bearer
in one of the rear chariots. ‘When will you allow me to ride into battle
with you, Father?'
‘Perhaps when you have run the Red Road. Then not even I will
gainsay you.
It was a hollow promise, and they both knew it. Running the Red