The Seventh Scroll - Smith Wilbur - Страница 84

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he has hurt us."

Both of them were so tired that it was already half-light'when they woke

the next morning.

As soon as Royan tried to stand she groaned and sank back. He went to

her immediately, and she made no protest when he placed her bare leg

across his lap.

He unwrapped the bandana, and frowned as he saw the knee. It was nearly

twice its normal girth, and the bruising was plum and ripe grape. He wet

the bandana again, and rewrapped the knee. He made her take the last two

Brufen from the phial, and then helped her to her feet.

"How does it feel?" he asked anxiously, and she hobbled a few paces and

smiled at him bravely.

"It will be all right as soon as I walk the stiffness out of it, I'

sure."

He looked up the escarpment. So close in under the wall, the height was

foreshortened, but he recalled every tortuous step of the way. It had

taken them a full day to come down.

"Of course it will." He smiled encouragement at her, and took her arm.

"Lean on me. It'll be a stroll in the park.

They toiled upwards all that morning. The trail seemed to rise more

steeply with every pace they took. She never complained, but she was

ashen pate and sweating with the pain. By midday they had not yet

reached the waterfall, and Nicholas made her stop to rest. They had

nothing to eat, but she drank thirstily from the water bottle. He did

not try to ration her, but limited himself to a single mouthful.

When she tried to rise, and go on, she gasped and staggered so violently

that she might have fallen if he had not steadied her.

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" she swore bitterly. "It's stiffened up on me."

"Never mind," he said cheerfully, and stripped his bumbag of all but the

most crucial items of equipment. He kept the dik-dik skin, however,

rolling it into a tight ball and stuffing it into the bag. Then he

rebuckled it around his waist, and grinned at her cheerfully. "Skinny

little thing like you. Hop on my back."

"You can't carry me up there." She looked up the trail, steep as a

ladderway, and was aghast.

"It's the only train leaving from this station," he told her, and

offered her his back. She crawled up on to' it.

"Don't you think you should dump the dik-dik skin?" she asked.

"Perish the thought!" he said, and started up.

It was slow and heavy-going. After a while he had nothing left over for

talking, and he trudge' upwards in dogged silence. Sweat drenched his

shirt, but she found neither the wet warmth of it that permeated her

blouse on to her own skin, nor the strong masculine odour of it

offensive. Instead, it was comforting and reassuring.

Every half hour he stopped until his breathing became regular and even

again. Then he opened his eyes and grinned at her.

"Hi ho, Silver!" He pushed himself to his feet, and bowed his back for

her to scramble aboard.

As the day wore on, his jokes became more forced and feeble. By late

afternoon the pace was down to an exhausted plod, and at the more

difficult places he had to pause and gather himself before stepping up.

She tried to help him by climbing down from his back, and supporting

herself on his shoulder as they struggled over the more arduous pitches,

but even with this respite she knew that he was burning up the very last

of his strength.

Neither of them could truly credit their achievement when they reeled

around another corner of the track and saw before them the waterfall,

spilling down like a white lacy curtain across the trail. Nicholas

staggered into the cavern behind the sheet of falling water and lowered

her to the floor. Then he collapsed and lay like a dead man.

It was dark when he had at last recovered sufficiently to open his eyes

and sit up. While he was resting Royan had gathered'some wood from the

monks' stockpile and managed to get a small fire going.

"Good girl," he told her. "If ever you want a job as a housekeeper-

"Don't tempt me." She hobbled over to him, and examined the cut in his

scalp. "Nice healthy scab," she told him, and then suddenly and

impulsively she hugged his head to her bosom and stroked his dusty,

sweat-stiff hair off his forehead.

"Oh, Nicky! How can I ever repay you for what you did for me today?"

A flippant reply rose to his lips, but even in his weakened state he had

the good sense to bite it back. He was in no state to attempt any

further intimacy. So he lay in her embrace, enjoying the feel of her

body against his, but not taking the risk of scaring her off with a move

of his own.

At last she released him gently, and sat back. "I very much regret, sir,

that the housekeeper cannot offer you smoked salmon and champagne for

your dinner. How about a mug of mountain water, pure and nourishing?"

"I think we can do better than that." He took the drycell torch from his

burn'bag, and by its beam selected a round, fist-sized stone from the

floor of the cavern. With this in his right hand he turned the light

upwards, and played it over the cavern roof. Immediately there was a

rustling of wings and the alarmed cooing of the rock pigeons that were

roosting on the ledges. Nicholas manoeuvred into position below them,

dazzling them with the torch beam.

With his first throw he brought down a brace of them, fluttering and

squawking to the cavern floor, while the rest of the flock exploded out

into the night in a great clattering uproar of frantic wings. Nicholas

pounced on the downed birds and with a practised flick of the wrist

wrung their necks.

"How do you fancy a juicy slice of roast pigeon?" he asked her.

She lay propped on one elbow, and he sat cross-legged facing her, each

of them plucking the vinous-maroon and grey feathers from one of the

pigeon carcasses. Even when it came to drawing the bird, she was not

squeamish, as many other women might have been faced with the same task.

This, together with her stoical performance during the day's struggle up

the mountain, enhanced his opinion of her. She had repeatedly proved to

him how game and plucky she was. His feelings towards her were

strengthening and maturing every day.

Concentrating on removing the fine bristles from the puckered breast

skin of the bird, she said, "It is beyond all doubt now that the

material stolen in the raid on our camp is in Pegasus hands."

"I was thinking the same thing," Nicholas nodded, "and we know from the

antennae at their base camp above the falls that they have satellite

communications. We can place a pretty certain bet that Jake Helm has

already telefaxed it through to the big man, whoever he may be."

"So he has all the details of the stele in Tanus's tomb.

We know that he already has the seventh scroll in his possession. If he

isn't an expert Egyptologist himself, he must have somebody in his pay

who is. Wouldn't you agree with that?"

I would guess that he can read hieroglyphics himself.

I would think that he must be an avid collector. I know the type. It is

an obsession with them."

"I know the type as well." She smiled at him. "There is one sitting not

a thousand miles away from me at this very moment."

"ToucV' he laughed, and held up his hands in surrender. "But I have only

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