Andre Norton - Shadow Hawk by Shadow Hawk Page B

seen, tied to a purpose Unis and his court believed to be without hope. Were they fools, Rahotep wondered, fools or the wisest men in Nubia? But who could look through a Great One's eyes and know?
    The small side court of the temple was remarkably full as Kheti assisted Rahotep through its door shortly after the following dawn. Untidy bundles holding the personal possessions of ten archers were stacked against the outer wall, while Methen was superintending the activities of two Kush slaves transporting his own chests. Today the veteran wore not only his "gold of valor," gained in the battles of his youth, but he went in full military dress, the baton of a regimental commander flourished in his hand to give point to his orders.
    The few articles Rahotep had brought from the south by donkeyback were in a plain small chest beside Kheti's bulging bag of spotted cowhide. The captain's most cherished belongings, his bow, his noble's armlets, and the leopard cub were either on his back or under his hand.
    Kheti seemed dissatisfied. "It is ill for the Hawk to go so meanly before the Pharaoh. Look upon this northern lord. If that is how they sport their gold in Thebes, we shall be as field workers instead of warriors—"
    He indicated Nereb who stood talking with Methen. The wiry royal officer not only bore himself smartly, but, also as Kheti had pointed out, his body armor made Methen's uniform as out of date as the decrees of the builders of the pyramids. Where the Scouts and the Nubian soldiers went bare above the waist save for crossed shoulder belts in times of ceremonial parade, Nereb was encased in an armor of leather and bronze. He did not wear the sphinx headdress of linen, but a cap of bronze over a wig of short tight curls, to which was clipped a single nodding plume.
    Rahotep laughed. "Scouts travel light, Kheti. Have we not always boasted that in the face of those who man the forts? Let Pharaoh know that we shall fly bird-free to scout out a path for his troops, and he shall look no more than to remark our skill. Ah, the time has come to leave. Bid the men take up their packs."
    The captain had made his farewells, and his thanks, to Khephren. And the Voice of Amon had once more been the austere man he had known in his early boyhood. A little subdued and chilled, sure now that loyalties to Thebes rather than any personal interest had brought him the high priest's help, Rahotep was glad to be out of the temple, eager to face a new venture.
    He was still uncertain enough on his feet to be glad of Kheti's hand beneath his arm. But the temple healers had assured him that his wound was closing properly, that the rest on board the river ship would restore him, so that when they reached Thebes, he could march his men ashore with much of his old energy and strength.
    The captain brushed aside Methen's suggestion of a litter, preferring to leave Semna on his own two feet, even if he had to have Kheti at his side. Nereb matched his step to the younger officer's slower pace as they went down to the waiting ship. The northern officer laughed harshly as Rahotep commented on the craft.
    "I return as I went—with one ship!" Nereb was bitter. "And I had thought to head a fleet to Pharaoh's aid! If all his messengers have served him so ill, then indeed will Thebes have cause to weep."
    "Not so." That was Methen. "You return with a company of picked Scouts, Lord, men trained to their duty by constant warfare in a harsh land."
    "Thirteen men—" Rahotep was inclined to share Nereb's pessimism.
    "One man, with his spirit bent to the task, can plow the desert and raise a vineyard. From small beginnings do armies grow. Let each messenger of Pharaoh bring back but thirteen such men and there will be a regiment of seasoned warriors."
    The party on its way to the quay was brought to a halt by the sharp impact of something thrown on the pavement before them. It was a crude reddish bowl as the captain could distinguish by the shards into which it