The hollow chamber echoed with Nefron’s weary sigh. “Still think she’s the cure for your problem, Mimses?”
His shoulders jerked in surprised reaction to her words. “What are you talking about—?”
A rush of shame and humiliation brought heat to his face, drawing perspiration from his pores. He bared his teeth in a grimace. “You little bitch. You read my thoughts.”
Nefron laughed, a cruel, tinkling sound. “You transmitted them, your lust for that woman is so strong. You should be wearing an ankh shield, like I told you.”
Mimses turned his grimace into a frown. “Drop it. Are you sure nothing can accidentally trigger the deadfall?”
“No. But I’ll have to warn Jak to be very careful when he’s in the relieving chamber not to dislodge the release mechanism.”
“Just make sure you’re away from here before the ceremony begins.”
“I will.”
“What about the kid?”
She shrugged and gestured to the ceiling. “Even if he gets stuck in the relieving chamber, he can crawl out through one of the shafts. We’ll have our assassin.”
Mimses dabbed at a film of sweat on his upper lip. “You sure he’s under your control?”
“All he has to do is trip the keystone lever. He’s under my control for that little task.”
“As long as Pharaoh doesn’t hear anything in time for him to escape.”
“There’s no way. The only thing he’ll hear are the blocks falling down. The only way to escape is through the Grand Gallery, and that will be jammed with his counselors. Only the few people right by the mouth of the corridor will be able to reach safety.”
Mimses nodded. “Mebbe we should put another of the newcomers up there in the relieving chamber, just in case your boy doesn’t make it. How about the woman?”
Nefron regarded him with a sly, speculative look. “Not until you’re done with her, of course.”
Mimses opened his mouth to voice an angry denial, then he looked into the girl’s dark eyes, glinting with a flicker of deep red, and realized he could hide nothing from her that she wanted to discover.
He forced an uneasy chuckle. “Of course.”
Nefron’s sly look suddenly vanished, replaced by a slit-eyed, searching examination. “You’re a fool,” she said. “A lust-besotted fool.”
Mimses clenched his fists. “What are you talking about?”
Nefron inhaled a sharp, fearful breath. “I see it in your mind.”
“See what?”
“The woman, Mildred, took your shield. She lifted your ankh while you were busy pawing her and licking your lips. She knows.”
“How?” Mimses demanded in a ragged voice. “How?”
Nefron shook her glossy black head. “That’s not important. But she knows!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Danielson was a yakker, not a communicator, and as the third day of Dean’s stay in Fort Fubar crawled to a close, he seriously contemplated filling either the man’s mouth or his own ears with sand.
It wasn’t so much that he resented the old man, but was too angry at his father for leaving him again to even try to make the best of the situation. Still, he remembered a saying he had learned while at the Brody School, something to the effect that he also serves who only stands and waits. It was a very cold comfort.
Only a short time had passed since his father had rescued him from the gladitorial games staged by Vinge Connrad in Nevada, and he was insecure about being abandoned—though he wouldn’t have admitted that fear to anyone, not even to Doc or Jak.
Dean spent most of his waking hours in Fort Fubar trying to avoid sunstroke or gazing out on the empty horizon in the direction his father and his friends had traveled. Nothing ever stirred on the wasteland but the wavery, watery heat shimmer.
One morning, before the heat of the day became unbearable and under the helpful eye of Danielson, he practiced maneuvering the chariot around the perimeter. Dean had expected his host to object to his experimentation with the vehicle, but all the old man had said was, “Don’t appear like Pharaoh is going to send anybody out to claim it. You might as well try it out.”
Dean didn’t examine Danielson’s words too closely until that night, lying on his sleeping bag with the old man’s snores ringing in his ears. The only reason Pharaoh hadn’t dispatched sec men to retrieve the chariot was that he already had what he wanted, and the wag was an acceptable loss. Dean slept very poorly that night.