“Continue the search for him. My order to take him alive still stands.”
“The second matter is of murder and reparation. Eight of my Incarnates have been slaughtered. Six are missing, and I presume them dead.”
“There will be reparation,” Akhnaton said firmly. He gestured toward the door.
Mimses bowed, gave Krysty a grudging nod and stalked out of the study.
“What did you mean by education?” Krysty asked.
“If your friends are to remain among us, they must learn our customs, our beliefs, our ways.”
“I don’t suppose,” Krysty ventured, “that simply letting us return to the redoubt and jump out of here is an option.”
“No. It is not. The people who come among us learn to live by our ways or they don’t live at all.”
“When may I see my friends, then?” she asked.
“Soon,” he replied promptly.
Akhnaton stood and walked toward her, extending a hand. After a hesitant moment, she took it and allowed him to gently pull her to her feet.
“You must absorb what you have learned,” he said kindly. “Nefron will take you back to your quarters. We will speak again tomorrow.”
Then, swiftly, unexpectedly, he pulled her against him. He bent his head and whispered into her ear, “He came to her straight away. He was ardent for her. He gave his heart unto her, let her see him in the form of a god after he came before her.”
His voice rolled and vibrated through her head, like the echoes of a gong. As swiftly as he had embraced her, he released her, guiding her out into the corridor. Nefron stood there, her mouth set in a tight, grim line.
A dew of sweat had gathered at Krysty’s temples, and she realized she was moist elsewhere. Looking down at herself, she was shamed and a little shocked to see her nipples, hard and hot, poking against the thin fabric covering her breasts.
“Let us go,” Nefron said stiffly.
Krysty tried to engage her in conversation on the walk back to her chambers, but she refused to speak until they were behind closed doors. Krysty said faintly, “He’s not what I expected.”
“Krysty, be on your guard. His power is working on you too quickly. If you are seduced before—”
Whirling on her angrily, Krysty said between clenched teeth, “I’ve done what you told me to do. Nobody—not Pharaoh, baron or god—will seduce me. You wanted me to buy you some time by playing nice. Did I or didn’t I?”
Nefron’s face twisted momentarily in anger, then she shook her head, exhaling sharply. “I apologize. I spoke out of turn. But you must always keep in mind the power he can bring to bear. It’s not a simple matter of Pharaoh wanting to have his way…he always has his way.”
She forced a bitter smile to her lips and patted Krysty’s arm. “Just remember to guard your thoughts…and your dreams.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ryan, Doc and J.B. had spent a relatively miserable night in their cells. Relatively, because they could easily recall worse nights spent in far worse places. Still, they were a long way from being comfortable.
The bald turnkeys gave them food at one point—something resembling cold oatmeal—and water, but they steadfastly refused to answer questions or to even respond to the insults J.B. hurled at them. He addressed them as Baldy One and Baldy Two, but they ignored him. Only Doc was able to sleep. He snored so loudly that J.B. and Ryan were unable to hold a conversation, not that Ryan felt much like talking.
As the hours dragged on, his strength slowly returned to him, the pain fading. And with it faded the emotional memory of the red-eyed giant’s voice. When he felt a tiny ember of anger glow within him, he happily fanned it to a full flame of fury, but he kept it banked, under control.
With the anger came a sick fear, stealing over him like a virus. He feared not for himself but for the people he had led into a trap. He feared most for Krysty. More than once, she had fallen into the hands of cdldhearts who wanted to possess her or violate her. This time was different in a way he couldn’t quite identify. This time, he was genuinely worried about the strength of her resolve, since his own had cracked in the presence of Pharaoh, even if only for a short time.