“And who’s fault was that?”
“I’ve managed to keep your dear old dad pretty much out of my head for the past few years.”
“Aren’t you lucky?” she said with a sneer. Mimses chuckled. “Not as lucky as I’m going to be. The machinery is all in place in the King’s Chamber. The newcomers won’t cause you any trouble, since you’re their only hope of getting out of here. They’ll do what you say. If it’s revenge you’re after, you’ll get it. So relax.”
Nefron’s tense, haughty expression slowly softened. “You’re right. What about the Incarnates?”
“What’s left of them, you mean?” Mimses replied in irritation. “They’re primed and ready to play their parts. Are you sure you can count on the kid, the albino?”
“I’ll be able to persuade him to push the deadfall lever. Since he’s never been anywhere near Pharaoh, he will not be able to sense his intentions.”
Mimses laughed and clapped his hands. “It’s foolproof. Once that mutant whoreson and his mutie bitch are out of the way, I’ll declare you queen. The newcomers will make perfect patsies.”
Nefron didn’t join in with the laughter. Her eyes narrowed, focusing on the open collar of Mimses’s robe. “Where’s your amulet?”
Mimses laughter clogged in his throat. He made a slapping grab for his throat, his upper chest.
“Shit,” he hissed, his eyes showing fear. “I don’t know what could have— I always wear it!”
“You’ll have to be around Pharaoh a lot these next couple of days,” Nefron said grimly. “You’d better find another one very quickly, or this foolproof plan you’re so proud of will be a foolproof way to get all of us executed.”
LIKE AKHNATON HAD SAID, Ryan awoke feeling as if every muscle had been worked over by a meat tenderizer. He’d had no trouble getting back into the dormitory the night before and hadn’t spoken to J.B. He collapsed onto his pallet and lay awake for a very long time, his body aching, his soul in agony. He managed to fall asleep after several hours and awakened when the dawn-to-noon labor shift shuffled out for breakfast. He tried to go back to sleep, but only dozed fitfully.
When he finally decided to get up, he saw J.B. staring at him disconcertedly. “What?” he asked irritably, his voice hoarse and thick.
“You’ve got bruises on your neck,” his friend said mildly.
Ryan fingered the sore, tender flesh of his throat. “Not too far off the mark. It’s the royal handprint of Pharaoh Akhnaton.”
Tersely, without spicing it up, he told the Armorer of his violent encounter with Akhnaton.
His face a mask of astonishment, J.B. demanded, “Dark night! Why didn’t he chill you?”
“He could have…or ordered some flunkies to do it. He said he’d rather punish me, hold Krysty over my head to control and torture me.”
J.B. scowled. “Bastard coldheart.”
“Yeah,” Ryan grunted. “Let’s see if there’s anything to eat in this dump.”
There was. A wheeled cart held savory biscuits, tea and a watered-down sort of fruit beverage. To their mild surprise, they had more or less free run of the dormitory and found a rec room where men played various board games. Curiously, their dorm mates were disinterested in them, treating them indifferently. After inviting them to join in a particularly boring-looking game and being promptly refused, J.B. and Ryan were pretty much left to themselves.
They found a shower room, which they took eager advantage of. Water flowed from amphorsae and ran down carefully chiseled channels and drains in the floor, dripping into purification tanks just below, and recirculated to supply tanks. So rare was the commodity, water had to be carefully conserved, no more permitted to evaporate than was unavoidable.
Adjacent to the shower room was a workshop equipped with a number of hand tools and even a band saw, drill press and a punch. Fasa was there at a bench, sharpening a number of chisels on a whetstone. He looked up when they entered and smiled. “Want to help me get the tools ready for the day?”
“Is it part of our responsibility?” J.B. asked.
Fasa’s face acquired a faintly troubled look. “No, not exactly. Just thought you might care to make our shift go smoother. We can’t use another shift’s tools, you know.”