"Uhmm, sit. The river is beyond. We shall
sleep here this night. And tomorrow we shall know your fate.
Here."
He was offered dried food, a mixture of fruit and nut and meat.
There was little taste, but at least sustenance. "I need water,"
he breathed.
"No. Tomorrow there shall be water. Here there is none. Sleep
now. When the moon rises we shall move on. Over there." He
motioned toward a slight rise between dark boulders and above
one of the scattered termite hills.
Demo lay down, shivering in the air, rapidly cooling with the
setting sun. The sandy earth, still warm from the sun's rays,
was welcome. And he fell rapidly into a strange sleep broken by
even stranger dreams.
A dream in which a giant with a spear stood over him, spear
raised. And a bright glow enveloped the giant's head, gleaming
white.
Suddenly he sat up.
It was no dream.
The point of the spear touched his stomach and he slid hastily
away. His companion stood at his feet, and the full moon gleamed
brightly behind his head. "Quickly, we will be in Jebel Barkal
by daylight. Quickly."
"Ah, Regulus!" They looked, one to the other. "The Master of
the Cobras! The Guardian of the Desert!"
These were the priests, the wise men. Each wore the mystic
crown, the sun disk with the protecting uraei, the twin cobras,
sacred to Amun. All of gold, even the band of the crown. Clothed
in gowns of white, trimmed with gold. The chief priest held a
golden rod, nearly equal in height to himself.
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