"Wilbur Smith - Egyptian 01 - Warlock" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Wilbur)

'He knows only that we are going to further his instruction in the mysteries, and to capture his godbird.'



'Good, Taita.' Pharaoh nodded. 'You were ever secretive but true. There is nothing more to say, for we
have said it all. Now go, and may Horus spread his wings over you and Nefer.'



'Look to your own back, Majesty, for in these days enemies are standing behind you as well as to your
front.'



Pharaoh grasped the Magus' upper arm and squeezed hard. Under his fingers the arm was thin but hard
as a dried acacia branch. Then he went back to where Nefer waited beside the wheel of the royal
chariot, with the injured air of a puppy ordered back to its kennel.



'Divine Majesty, there are younger men than me in the squadron.' The Prince made one last despairing
effort to persuade his father that he should ride with the chariots. Pharaoh knew that the boy was right, of
course. Meren, the grandson of the illustrious General Kratas, was his junior by three days and today
was riding with his father as lance-bearer in one of the rear chariots. 'When will you allow me to ride into
battle with you, Father?'



'Perhaps when you have run the Red Road. Then not even I will gainsay you.'



It was a hollow promise, and they both knew it. Running the Red Road was the onerous test of
horsemanship and weapons that few warriors attempted. It was an ordeal that drained, exhausted and
often killed even a strong man in his prime and trained to near perfection. Nefer was a long way from that
day.



Then Pharaoh's forbidding expression softened and he gripped his son's arm in the only show of
affection he would allow himself before his troops. 'Now it is my command that you go with Taita into the
desert to capture your godbird, and thus to prove your royal blood and your right one day to wear the
double crown.'



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