wilbursmith_warlock-第103部分

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then　sagged　limply　as　the　hot　breeze　died　away。　Nefer　loosed　and　the　arrow　rose　on　its　lazy　parabola　of　flight。　It　reached　its　zenith　and　as　it　started　to　drop　the　breeze　puffed　again　on　Taita's　cheek。
　　
　　The　arrow　felt　the　breeze　also　and　veered　perceptibly　in　flight。　It　dropped　towards　the　target；　and　struck　three　hands'　breadth　to　the　leeward　side　of　the　red　bullseye。
　　
　　'Seth　vomit　on　this　treacherous　wind！'　Nefer　swore。
　　
　　'The　light　arrow　feels　it　more；'　Taita　said；　and　walked　back　to　the　little　cart　that　carried　the　spare　bows　and　the　quivers。　He　came　back　with　a　long　bundle　wrapped　in　a　leather　sheath。
　　
　　'No！'　Nefer　said；　as　he　unwrapped　Trok's　great　war　bow。　'It　outdoes　me！'
　　
　　'When　did　you　last　attempt　to　draw　it？'　Taita　asked。
　　
　　'On　the　day　we　unearthed　it；'　Nefer　replied。　'You　should　know。　You　were　there。'
　　
　　'That　was　six　months　ago。'　Taita　said；　and　glanced　significantly　at　Nefer's　bare　chest　and　arms。　The　muscles　had　grown　hard　as　carved　cedarwood。　He　handed　the　bow　to　him。
　　
　　Reluctantly　Nefer　took　it　and　turned　it　in　his　hands。　He　saw　that　the　stock　had　been　rebound　recently　with　fine　electrum　wire　and　lacquered。　The　bowstring　was　new…the　sinews　of　a　lion's　forelegs；　cured　and　twisted　until　they　were　hard　and　unyielding　as　bronze。
　　
　　The　refusal　rose　to　his　lips　again　but　did　not　pass　them　for　Taita　was　watching　him。　He　lifted　the　bow　and；　without　an　arrow　in　place；　raised　it　and　tried　to　draw。　It　came　back　half　a　cubit；　then　his　arms　locked　and　although　the　muscles　flattened　and　hardened　across　his　chest　it　would　move　no　further。　Carefully　Nefer　released　the　pressure　and　the　bow　stock　returned　to　rest。
　　
　　'Let　me　have　it　back。'　Taita　reached　out　to　take　the　weapon　from　him。　'You　have　neither　the　strength　nor　the　determination。'
　　
　　Nefer　jerked　it　away　from　him；　and　his　lips　went　thin　and　white；　his　eyes　blazed。
　　
　　'You　don't　know　everything；　old　man；　even　though　you　think　you　do。'
　　
　　He　reached　into　the　cart　and　snatched　one　of　the　long　heavy　arrows　from　the　quiver　that　carried　the　cartouche　of　Trok　embossed　in　the　polished　leather。　Like　the　bow　it　had　been　salvaged　from　the　buried　chariot。　He　strode　back　to　the　firing…line　and　took　his　stance。　He　nocked　the　arrow。　His　chest　swelled　as　he　sucked　in　a　full　breath。　His　jaw　clenched　and　he　began　the　draw。　It　came　back　slowly　at　first　and　reached　the　median　line。　He　grunted　and　his　breath　hissed　out　through　his　throat；　the　muscles　in　his　arms　stood　proud　and　hard　and　he　came　back　to　the　full　draw；　kissing　the　bowstring　like　a　lover。　In　the　same　movement　he　loosed；　and　the　heavy　arrow　leaped　away；　singing　against　the　blue；　made　its　noon　and　dropped；　flying　high　over　the　line　of　targets；　going　on　and　on；　twice　the　distance。　Then　the　flint　head　struck　a　bright　spur　of　sparks　from　a　distant　rock　and　the　shaft　snapped　with　the　terrible　power　of　the　strike。
　　
　　Nefer　stared　after　the　arrow　in　astonishment；　and　Taita　murmured；　'Perhaps　you　are　right。'
　　
　　Nefer　dropped　the　bow　and　embraced　him。　'You　know　enough；　Old　Father；'　he　said。　'Enough　for　all　of　us。'
　　
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　　Taita　took　Nefer　and　Meren　into　the　desert；　three　days'　travel　through　the　harsh　and　beautiful　land。　He　led　them　to　the　hidden　valley　where　the　black　liquid　oozed　to　the　surface　through　a　deep　cleft　in　the　rock。　This　was　the　same　thick；　tarry　substance　that　they　had　used　to　set　alight　the　jackals'　fur　on　the　night　raid　at　Thane。
　　
　　They　filled　the　clay　pots　they　had　brought　with　them　and　returned　to　the　workshop　at　Gallala。　Taita　refined　the　black　liquid；　boiling　it　down　over　a　slow　fire　until　it　felt　slippery　as　fine　silk　between　the　fingers。　'It　will　lubricate　the　wheel　hubs　smoother　and　longer　than　clarified　pigs　lard；　or　any　other　concoction。　It　will　give　you　an　advantage　of　fifty　paces　in　a　thousand。　Perhaps　the　difference　between　success　or　failure；　or　even　life　and　death。'
　　
　　Nefer　was　inclined　to　run　the　royal　chariot　on　the　Red　Road；　but　Taita　asked；　'Do　you　really　want　to　ride　in　a　golden　sarcophagus？'
　　
　　'The　goldwork　weighs　only　two　taels。　You　weighed　it　yourself。'
　　
　　'It　might　just　as　well　be　two　hundred　when　you　go　out　there。'
　　
　　Taita　went　over　every　one　of　the　one　hundred　and　five　chariots　they　had　exhumed　from　the　sands；　selected　ten　and　stripped　them　down。　He　weighed　the　chassis　and　tested　the　strength　of　the　joints　in　the　carriagework。　He　spun　the　wheels　on　their　hubs；　judging　by　eye　the　slightest　wobble　in　their　rotation。　At　last　he　made　his　final　choice。
　　
　　He　modified　the　hub　assembly　on　the　chosen　vehicle　so　that　the　wheels　were　held　by　a　single　bronze　pin　that　could　be　removed　with　a　mallet　blow。　When　he　reassembled　the　chariot　he　discarded　the　dashboard　and　side　panels；　ridding　it　of　every　last　tael　of　superfluous　weight。　Without　the　support　of　the　struts　and　panels　the　riders　would　have　to　rely　on　their　own　sense　of　balance　and　a　single　loop　of　rope　spliced　to　the　footplate　to　steady　themselves　over　the　roughest　ground。　Finally　he　lubricated　the　wheel　hubs　with　the　black　grease　from　the　desert　well。
　　
　　Under　Taita's　supervision；　they　went　over　the　harness　an　inch　at　a　time；　and　Mintaka；　Merykara　and　their　maids　sat　up　late　into　the　night　stitching　and　double　stitching　the　joins　and　seams。
　　
　　Then　they　chose　the　weapons　they　would　carry；　rolling　the　javelins　and　the　arrows　to　detect　any　imperfection；　suspending　them　on　the　special　balance　board　Taita　had　designed；　adding　a　bead　of　lead　at　haft　or　head　until　they　were　perfect。　They　sharpened　the　points　so　they　would　bite　and　hold　in　the　targets。　They　resoled　their　sandals　and　filed　the　bronze　cleats　into　spikes。　They　shaped　new　leather　guards　to　protect　their　forearms　from　the　whip　of　the　bowstring　and　the　javelin　thong。　They　selected　three　swords　each；　for　the　bronze　blades　often　snapped　in　the　heat　of　bat。　They　sharpened　the　edges　then　burnished　them　with　powdered　pumice　stone　until　they　could　shave　the　hair　from　their　own　forearms。
　　
　　They　cured　and　twisted　spare　bowstrings；　to　be　carried　as　belts　tied　around　their　waists。　Other　than　leather　helmets　and　jerkins；　they　would　wear　no　armour　on　the　road；　to　lighten　the　load　that　Dov　and　Krus　must　draw。　They　worked　behind　the　locked　doors　of　the　workshop；　so　that　no　others　would　learn　of　their　preparations。
　　
　　But　above　all　else　they　trained　and　practised；　built　up　their　strength　and　stamina；　and　the　trust　of　the　horses。
　　
　　For　Dov　and　Krus　the　fire　would　be　the　worst　of　the　ordeal。　They　built　their　own　fires　out　in　the　desert；　stacking　faggots　of　wood　and　bundles　of　dry　straw。　They　let　the　horses　see　the　flames　and　smell　the　smoke；　then　blindfolded　them。　Though　at　first　Krus　balked　and　whinnied　with　terror；　in　the　end　he　would　run　blind；　trusting　the　man　upon　his　back；　so　close　to　the　crackling　flames　that　they　singed　his　mane。
　　
　　Mintaka　and　Merykara　spent　long　hours　during　the　waiting　days　in　the　newly　renovated　temple　of　Hathor；　sacrificing　for　their　men　and　praying　for　the　protection　and　intervention　of　the　goddess　on　their　behalf。
　　
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　　Thirty…five　days　before　the　full　of　the　moon　of　Horus　a　strange　caravan　arrived　in　Gallala。　It　had　e　up　from　the　coast；　from　the　port　of　Safaga。　It　was　led　by　a　one…eyed　and　one…armed　giant　of　a　man　named　Aartla。　The　five　warriors　of　the　Red　Road　went　out　to　meet　him　when　he　was　still　three　leagues　outside　the　city　walls。　They　carried　him　back　to　Gallala　in　honour；　for　he　was　a　brother　warrior　of　the　third　degree　who　had　run　the　Red　Road　almost　thirty　years　before。　Twenty　years　ago　an　arrow　had　pierced　his　eye　during　the　Libyan　campaign　of　Pharaoh　Tamose；　and　five　years　later　a　Nubian　axeman　had　sheared　his　arm　with　a　single　stroke　below　the　elbow。
　　
　　Aartla　was　a　wealthy　man　now。　He　owned　a　travelling　pany　of　entertainers；　men　and　women　of　special　talents　and　skills。　One　of　his　troupe　was　reputed　to　be　the　strongest　woman　in　the　world。　She　could　lift　two　horses　into　the　air；　one　with　each　hand；　and　she　could　bite　the　end　off　a　bronze　rod　and　then　bend　the　metal　stump　with　the　grip　of　her　vagina。　Another　of　his　women　was　famed　as　the　most　beautiful　in　the　world；　though　few　had　set　eyes　on　her　face。　She　came　from　a　land　so　far　to　the　north　that　at　certain　seasons　of　the　year　the　rivers　turned　to　white　stone　and　ceased　to　flow。　Aartla　charged　ten　taels　of　silver　for　the　privilege　of　seeing　her　face　unveiled。　They　said　she　had　golden　hair　that　hung　to　the　ground；　and　eyes　of　different　colours；　one　golden　and　the　other　blue。　The　price　that　Aartla　charged　for　viewing　the　rest　of　her　charms　was　in　proportion；　and　only　a　rich　man　might　sample　all　her　delights。
　　
　　In　addition　Aartla　possessed　a　black　slave　girl　who　ate　fire；　covered　herself　from　head　to　foot　with　a　cloak　of　live　scorpions；　and　draped　a　great　python　around　her　neck。　At　the　climax　of　her　performance　she　enticed　the　serpent　to　crawl　into　the　secret　opening　of　her　body　until　all　its　length　had　disappeared　into　her　womb。
　　
　　These　wonders　were　intended　merely　to　whet　the　appetite　of　the　audience　for　the　main　attractions　of　Aar