The crowd was large and noisy around the monument, and a band of musicians strolled among them, the stuttering whine of flutes and the bleat of horns lifted above the beat of drums.
Ryan stayed deep within the jostling, singing and laughing throng, refusing to acknowledge his growing claustrophobia. He had spent too many years in the wild, unpopulated places of Deathlands to be comfortable in crowds. He kept consulting the position of the sun, willing it savagely to sink. Like he expected, it ignored him.
He continued to shuffle around, past and with the people. He ceased to think about much of anything except to keep his feet from being trod upon.
Suddenly, the music stopped and the tempo of the crowd’s voice quieted. Ryan dully looked up and saw a pastel mixture of oranges, yellows and muted reds spreading across the sky. Silence seemed to descend on the crowd as if a giant bell jar had dropped over it. The wind hissed eerily through the sand.
A new sound began, a steady squeak underscored by a dry, castanetlike clicking. Ryan concentrated on the rhythmic noise, tracked it to a spot high above, somewhere on the pyramid itself.
On the railed track overhead, a shape rolled into view, a silk-veiled and flower-drenched palaquin. It was slowly pulled up to the pyramid by men working at the winch and pulley from a concealed recess on the side of it.
Ryan pushed his way through the motionless, silent, upstaring people to get a better view. An opening gaped in the casing stones beside the long stairway, at a little above the midpoint of the monument. From the opening, taut ropes stretched up to eye-bolts on the underside of the wheeled palaquin.
Ryan’s gaze followed the lines and he squinted at the colorful cart.
Though the interior was obscured by fluttering pennants, he was able to see two figures standing there. Bright scarlet tresses floated in the wind like flames.
Ryan elbowed and pushed people out of his path as he headed for the stair.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A silent scream of frustrated fury welled in Krysty’s throat. She choked it back, beat it down, not allowing the ferocity of her emotions to be mirrored in her dreamy, slightly aloof eyes.
Standing beside Akhnaton in the flower-and-silk-bedecked palaquin, she kept her eyes fixed on the glittering capstone of the pyramid, not on the people milling around below. She was aware of the man’s crimson gaze upon her, but she refused to meet it.
Akhnaton heaved a gusty, weary sigh. “My beloved, you are shielded from me.”
Krysty groped for a reply, then decided she had no more tolerance for dissembling. “How do you know?”
“I reached out for your feelings. I touched only a cold void. Like a squall of static.”
Slowly, Krysty swiveled her head. Akhnaton’s expression was unreadable. “Now what? Will you cancel the ceremony?”
A hard smile touched his lips. “And disappoint my subjects? They are anxious to be ruled by a god and goddess and will be inconsolable if they are not. Therefore, their wishes shall be granted.”
“Against my will?”
Akhnaton shrugged. “Will is malleable, putty and clay to be shaped and molded by the master craftsman.”
“You won’t be molding me again,” Krysty replied grimly.
Akhnaton’s smile broadened. “I should remind you that by wearing an ankh on your person, you will not benefit from the energies pouring into the King’s Chamber. You will remain a mortal, wed to a god.”
“Like Connie Harrier?”
“Exactly. And you may share her fate.”
The palaquin lurched slightly on the tracks. Akhnaton reached out to steady her, but she slapped his hand away. “Or mebbe I’ll share the fate of your first predestined mate, Epsilon,” she said coldly. “You arranged for the accident that killed her. Even at such an early age, you couldn’t stand the thought of dividing the world with an equal. Even as an infant, you were a jealous god.”
“I want you to be a goddess, ruling at my side.” Akhnaton’s voice was pitched low.
“You want me to be a thing at your side, a goddess under your mastery. You instinctively knew you couldn’t control Epsilon because she was bred to be your equal. Who knows, she might have matured to be your superior. That notion terrified you, didn’t it?”