“A boat?” Nikos sputtered. “Where are we going to get a boat in this wasteland? The townspeople won’t be leaving them around for the Persians to use for day picnics. There’s neither wood nor time to build one.”

Thyatis laughed and crawled out of the overhang into the sun. It was on its downward course but still high in the sky. She squinted at it and estimated the time to dark before fitting the broad flat-brimmed straw hat back on her head. She strode off down the wadi at a brisk pace. Behind her Timur groaned and slowly crawled out of the shade. The ache in his leg was killing him these days. Nikos ran off to catch up with the centurion. Timur looked after the two of them with concern-it wasn’t a good idea to run around in the heat when it was like this.

The sky above was a blue-white bowl. Not even the wisp of a cloud marred its perfection.

“Is this why we’ve been dragging this thrice-damned wagon all over creation?” Nikos was whispering in the darkness and Thyatis had trouble picking out his voice from the soft slap of the lake water on the rocky shore. Each of them had hold of one side of the collapsible hide boat that the Sarmatians had been carrying in their gear in the wagon. A change of clothes and their weapons rode in the bottom. Carefully they picked their way down the beach to the water’s edge. The waves of Lake Thospitis were a bare ripple compared to the tides on the Sea of Darkness, but they had scoured off a bit of a strand. Uphill, in the cluster of trees that sheltered the wagon and the other men, there was the long-drawn-out hoot of a nesting owl. Immediately

Thyatis and Nikos went to ground, carefully touching the boat down so as not to make a noise. Around them the night air was quiet, filled only with the sound of the water slapping against the shore and the nearly inaudible squeak of bats.

Thyatis rolled over so that she could see up the beach in either direction. There were no lights, or the clatter of horses’ hooves on stone. Ten or twenty grains passed and she began to feel better, but there was still no all-clear signal. The moon had not risen yet, so the shore was black as pitch. She could hear Nikos breathing.

A cry of pain suddenly cut the night and there was the unmistakable ring of steel on steel from the copse of trees. A fire shot up, lighting the treetops, and against it Thyatis could see running men. There was shouting and she stood, frozen with indecision. An arrow whickered through the air and plunged into the lake behind them.

“Ai, come on,” Nikos hissed, and began dragging the boat toward the water as fast as he could. “It’s too late now to do ought but get away!” Another arrow came out of the night and slapped into the rear bowsprit of the boat. Thyatis woke up and spun to dash after Nikos, who was in the water and pushing the boat farther out. She splashed into the water, high-stepping, and then darted sideways at a faint sound behind her.

A spear clove into the water with a hiss, and a man cursed within feet of her. In the darkness, now only feebly lit by the fire raging in the crown of the dry trees, she could barely make out the shape of a hulking figure. The gleam of firelight off the man’s longsword, that she could see. He stepped in, slashing overhand with the blade, and her arm rang to the joint as she slapped the blade away on the fiat. She jumped up out of the water, furious with herself for leaving her own blade in the boat, and kicked at the weaving head of her assailant. There was a ringing crack as the iron hobnails on her boot caught the edge of the man’s helmet.

She dropped back down with a splash onto both feet as the attacker stumbled back.

In the darkness, Nikos was shouting for her. She ran through the shallow water in the opposite direction, away from the man. Within thirty feet he was gone in the darkness, and she swerved into deeper water. More feet were running on the beach, and voices were shouting commands. Up the hill, the sound of steel had faded and the roar of juniper trees combusting filled the air. In their light, she could see dozens of men in armor running down the hill to the beach.

Oh, Timur, she thought, you were far too right for your own good!

She waded back into the lake until only her nose and eyes were above the water. Then she began paddling slowly, keeping her arms underwater, back in the direction -Nikos had been with the boat. On the shore, men with lanterns and torches were beginning to spread out, searching the waterline.

Nikos, you half-Greek, half-Illyrian, who-knows-what-else bastard, you’d better not have run out on me…

The boat, low in the water with its burden, rocked gently from side to side. Nikos lay in the bottom, a partially drawn bow with arrow to hand across him. Over the water he could hear the cussing of Persian sergeants as they ordered their men to spread out and quarter the beach. Too, there was the splashing of men entering the water with lanterns and spears. With the trickiness of sound over water, he could not tell if they were close by or far away. For the moment he did not dare risk looking over the side at the beach lest he betray some reflection.

Instead, he whistled, the long cry of a night-jar. Forty heartbeats later, he whistled again.

There was a sudden shout up the beach, the cry of men _ on the hunt catching sight of their prey. Officers’ whistles cut the night and the light on the shore began to run north.

In the boat, Nikos half sat up, forgetting his earlier vow. The clusters of running torches seemed like fireflies across the water. Now there was shouting again, and the rasping sound of steel on iron. The torches bunched and men shouted angrily. Nikos sat up farther, but he could see nothing more. His heart was filled with agony-if not his commander, that was at least one of his men, brought to bay.

The boat rocked fiercely, and a voice thickened by exhaustion said: “Idiot! Get down and balance the boat before you fall out.”

Nikos sat down on the opposite side of the boat and grasped Thyatis’ wrist as she hauled herself over the side. She was soaked through and still wore the light iron mail shirt she had donned when they first came into sight of the embattled city. Gasping for breath, she lay in the bottom of the boat in a pool of water.

“Row,” she snarled, her voice filled with anger and loss. “Get us out of here.”

On the shore, the sound of fighting halted and there was a commotion among the hunters. Nikos dipped the paddle into the dark waters and stroked away. The little hide boat began to move through the night. Thyatis, utterly drained, lay in the bottom of the boat, quietly weeping.

THE EGYPTIAN HOUSE

H

Hey! Hello!“ The shout echoed down the corridor, ringing off of the mossy stones. ”Anyone! Hey, you motherless bastards! Hello!“ Krista hung from the bars of the cell that she had woken in, feet on the bottom rung of the door, shouting at the top of her lungs. Her hair was a tangle of mud and dried blood, one arm was badly scratched, and the side of her head and face was very tender. The cell had some blankets and straw on the floor as well as two buckets.

“Let me out! Let me out or you’ll be in some deep shit!”

Disgusted and hoarse from shouting, she jumped down onto the floor again. Restless, she prowled around the little room. It was small and mean, and all too obviously a cell.

The old bastard can sure throw, she muttered to herself, seething with anger at having been caught. The mistress isn’t going to be very pleased with me.

Her jewelry and belt were gone, along with her sandals and the leather thongs she used to tie her hair up. Krista guessed that she had been thoroughly searched before being dumped like a sack of millet on the floor of the room.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway and she turned and curled up on the floor, facing the barred door. In a moment her breathing was even and steady and a soft snore escaped her lips. A haggard figured stopped at the entrance to the cell and leaned on the bars, exhausted.