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'You should have let me poison the irrigation canals；' Nefer said flatly； as they watched from the other side of the valley。
'You know better than that。' Taita shook his silver head。 That would have been an offence that the gods would never forgive。 In this bitter land only Seth or Seueth could contemplate such a foul deed。'
'On this day I could play Seth willingly enough。' Nefer smiled bleakly； but he said it merely to provoke the Magus。 'Your two rogues have done well。' He glanced at the two ragged Bedouin who knelt beside Taita。 'Pay them and let them go。'
They place no value on gold；' Taita explained。 'When I lived at Gebel Nagara they brought their children to me； and I cured them of the Yellow Flowers。' He made a sign of blessing over the crouching men and said a few words to them in their dialect； thanking them for risking their lives to mislead Trok； and promising them his future protection。 They kissed his feet then slipped away among the boulders。
Taita and Nefer gave their full attention to the unfolding battle in the valley below。 Trok's men and horses had drunk until their bellies bulged and now they were mounting。 Even though he had lost so many chariots on the approach march； Trok still outnumbered Nefer's forces at least three to one。
'We dare not meet him on open ground；' Nefer mused； and looked down upon the mass of refugees escaping up the valley below them。 To begin with there had been very few women in the city…Nefer had deliberately kept their numbers down to eke out the reserves of food for his fighting men…and even they； including Mintaka and Merykara； together with all the children； the sick and wounded； had been evacuated from Gallala two days before。 Meren had gone on one of the wagons carrying the contents of the treasury； the gold they had lifted from the false pharaohs。 Nefer had sent them all to Gebel Nagara； where Trok would never find them； and the tiny spring of water would just support them until after the battle was decided。
Now Gallala was stripped of everything of value； every chariot； weapon and piece of armour。 He gazed down on the refugees with satisfaction。 Even from this close it was difficult to tell that they were not women and civilians； but disguised foot…soldiers。 Many of these stalwarts were tripping and stumbling in their long skirts and shawls。 The bundles they carried in their arms were not swaddled infants； but their bows and swords wrapped in shawls。 Their long lances had been cached among the rocks higher up the valley were his main force was concealed。
All Trok's chariots had finished watering and they were ing on across the pastures in tight and ordered formations； wave after wave of fighting vehicles。 The water had revived then miraculously； and before them lay the promise of plunder and rapine。
'Pray Horus that we can entice Trok to take up the pursuit and enter the valley；' Nefer whispered。 'If he does not take the bait and seizes the undefended city instead； then he denies us the water and grazing。 We would be forced to e to battle on the open ground where he would have every advantage。'
Taita said nothing。 He stood with the golden Periapt pressed to his lips and his eyes turned upwards in the attitude the Nefer had e to know so well。
The enemy were close enough now for Nefer to be able to pick out Trok's chariot among the moving mass of vehicles； as it wheeled into a position across the mouth of the valley crowded with the fleeing refugees。 Trok was in the centre of the leading rank； ten of his chariots on each of his flanks； on a front wide enough to sweep the valley from side to side。 Behind him the rest of his chariots were formed up。 The dust settled around them and a terrible silence fell over them。 The only sound was the faint babble and hubbub of the fleeing rabble in the gut of the narrow valley ahead of them。
'e； Trok Uruk！' Nefer whispered。 'Order the charge！ Ride into history！'
In the leading chariot in the front rank of the massed forces； Ishtar the Mede crouched beside Trok's massive armoured figure。 He was so agitated that he reached up to tug at the ribbons of Trok's beard。
'The smell of the Warlock hangs in the air like the reek of a ten…day…old corpse。' His voice was shrill； and saliva frothed on his lips and flew in a cloud with the force of his emotion。 'He waits for you up there； like a man…eating beast。 I can feel his presence。 Look up； mighty Pharaoh！'
Trok was distracted enough to glance up at the sky。 The vultures had dropped lower。
'Yes！ Yes！' Ishtar pressed the small advantage。 'They are Taita's chickens。 They wait for him to feed them with your flesh。'
Trok looked back up the valley at the prize that lay before him； but the shadows of the vultures flitted over the earth between them and he hesitated。
Hidden among the boulders on the steep side of the valley Nefer watched him。 He was so close now that Nefer fancied that he could read his expression。
'Forward； Trok！' Nefer murmured。 'Sound the charge。 Lead your army into the valley。' He could sense doubt in the manner that Trok fiddled with the reins in his hand； and turned his head to look down at the skinny figure of Ishtar beside him。
The Mede's blue…painted face was turned up to him earnestly； and he touched Trok and tugged at his armour with the force of his entreaties。 'It is a snare laid for you by the Warlock。 If you never trust me again； you must trust me now。 There is death in the air； and the stench of treachery。 I can feel Taita's spells like bats' wings beating against my face。'
Trok scratched his beard； and glanced over his shoulder at the ranks of chariots parked wheel to wheel and his troopers leaning forward in cruel anticipation of his order。
'Turn aside； mighty Trok。 Seize the city and the water fountain。 Nefer Seti and the Warlock will perish out there in the desert； as we so nearly did。 That way is certain。 The other way is madness。'
On the hillside Nefer narrowed his eyes as he watched his disguised troopers scurrying away up the valley； and he knew that the moment was passing。 'What is holding Trok？ Will he not mit to the charge？' Nefer cried aloud。 'If he does not charge now 。。。'
'Look to the head of the valley。' Taita had not opened his eyes。 Even in his agitation Nefer glanced up the valley； and stiffened with alarm。 His fist tightened on the hilt of his sword until the knuckles turned white as bone。
'It is not possible！' he growled。
Near the top end of the valley； but fully visible from where Trok's chariots were drawn up； was a slab of rock。 Square and ochre…coloured； it stood like a man…made monument beside the road。 On top of this； above the stream of fleeing refugees； had appeared a single figure。 It was a woman； young and slim； with long dark hair that hung to her waist。 Her chiton was the crimson of the royal House of Apepi： it stood out brilliantly； a speck of colour in the bleakness of bare rock and sand。
'Mintaka！' Nefer breathed。 'I ordered her to go with Meren and Merykara to Gebel Nagara。'
'We know that she would never have disobeyed you。' Taita opened his eyes and smiled ironically。 Therefore； it seems that she must have misheard you。'
'This is your doing；' Nefer said bitterly。 'You are using her as bait for Trok。 You have placed her in mortal danger。'
'Perhaps I can control the khamsin；' Taita said； 'but not even I can control Mintaka Apepi。 What she does； she does of her own free will。'
Below them Trok had turned to give the order for his chariots to wheel away； to let the rabble escape； and to seize the fountain and the city of Gallala as Ishtar was urging him。 Before he could speak he felt Ishtar stiffen beside him； and heard him whisper； This is something that Taita has conjured。'
Trok jerked around and stared up the long rising valley。 He saw the tiny figure in the crimson dress； standing high on the yellow rock platform。 He recognized in an instant the object of all his hatred and rage。 'Mi