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hevelled hair could hide her striking looks。 He was still staring after them as they topped the last rise and disappeared into the wilderness； heading east along the caravan road that would lead eventually to the shores of the Red Sea。
* * *
While Trok was waiting impatiently for his squadrons to assemble before the city gates he ordered Colonel Tolma to send his men to search the encampment of beggars and foreigners outside the walls of Avaris。 'Turn out every hovel。 Make certain that Queen Mintaka is not hiding in any of them。 Search for Taita the Warlock。 Bring me any tall； thin old man you find。 I will question him myself。'
There were screams and cries among the huts； the sounds of doors being broken down and flimsy walls smashed in as Tolma's men carried out his orders。 Within a short time two of the troopers returned； dragging a filthy old Bedouin harridan to where Trok stood beside his chariot。 The woman was screaming hysterical abuse at her captors as she kicked and struggled in their grip。
'What is it； soldier？' Trok demanded； as they threw the woman down at his feet。 The trooper held up a pair of delicate golden sandals； decorated with turquoise studs that glittered in the torchlight。
'Your Majesty； we found these in her hut。'
Trok's face darkened with fury as he recognized them and he kicked the woman in the belly。 'Where did you steal them； you foul old she…baboon？'
'I never stole nothing； divine Pharaoh；' she whined。 'He gave them to me。'
'Who was he？ Answer me straight or I will push your head up your cunt until you drown in your own stinking juices。'
'The old man； he gave them to me。'
'Describe him to me。'
Tall； he was； and skinny。'
'How old？'
'Old as the rocks of the desert。 He gave them to me。'
'Was there a girl with him？'
'Three other men and a pretty little harlot dressed in fine stuff with paint on her face and ribbons in her hair。'
Trok jerked her to her feet and shouted into her startled face； 'Where did they go。 Which way？'
With a shaking finger the woman pointed along the road that led into the hills and the desert beyond。
'When？' Trok demanded。
'That much of the moon's journey；' she said； indicating an arc of the sky that corresponded to four or five hours of the lunar orbit。
'How many horses did they have？' Trok snarled。 'Chariots？ Wagons？ How were they travelling？'
'No horses；' she answered。 'They went on foot； but in great haste。'
Trok pushed her away。 He grinned at Tolma who stood beside him。 'They will not get far on foot。 We will have them just as soon as you can get your idle ruffians out of their sleeping rugs and mounted。'
* * *
The sun was hot and halfway up the sky when Trok topped the hills above the oasis at the threshold of the wilderness。 Two hundred chariots followed him in a column of fours。 Five miles further back； their dustcloud clearly visible in the bright sunlight； came Zander with another two hundred。 Each vehicle carried two heavily armed troopers； and was loaded with waterskins and sheaths of spare javelins and arrows。
Below them they saw the Assyrian trader ing up the slope from the well at the head of his caravan。 Trok rode forward to meet him； and hailed him from a distance。 'Well met； stranger。 Whence e you； and what is your business？'
The trader looked up at this warlike host in trepidation； not certain what to expect。 Trok's friendly greeting meant little。 On the long road from Mesopotamia he had met robbers； bandits and warlords。
Trok reined in his chariot in front of him。 'I am His Divine Majesty Pharaoh Trok Uruk。 Wele to the Lower Kingdom。 Fear not。 You are under my protection。'
The trader fell to his knees and made his obeisance。 For once Trok was impatient of the honours being paid to him； and he cut the man short。 'Stand and speak up； my brave fellow。 If you are honest with me and tell me what I need to know； I shall give you a licence to trade throughout my kingdom free of any tax； and send ten chariots to escort you to the gates of Avaris。'
The merchant scrambled to his feet； and began to express his deep gratitude； although he knew from long experience that such royal condescension was usually costly。 Trok cut him short。 'I am in pursuit of a band of criminal fugitives。 Have you seen them？'
'I have met a number of travellers along the way；' the Assyrian replied cautiously。 'Would Your Divine Majesty deign to describe these villains to me； and I will do my best to place you upon their tracks？'
'Probably five or six in number。 They will be heading towards the east。 One young woman with them； and the rest of them men。 Their leader is an ancient rogue。 Tall and thin。 He may have dyed his hair black or brown。'
Trok got no further with his description； before the Assyrian broke in excitedly。 'Your Majesty； I know them well。 Some days ago the old man with dyed hair purchased carpets and old clothing from me。 At that time the woman was not with him。 He left horses and three chariots at the oasis down yonder； in the charge of an ugly black ruffian。 With the others in an old wagon loaded with the carpets I had sold him； he took this high road we are standing on towards Avaris。'
Trok grinned triumphantly。 'That is the one I want。 Have you seen him since？ Did he return to pick up the chariots？'
'He and the other three came back early this morning； on foot from the direction of Avaris。 With them was the young woman you asked after。 She seemed to be injured in some way； for they carried her。'
'Where have they gone； fellow？ Which way？' Trok demanded eagerly； but the Assyrian would not be hurried。
'The woman was young。 Though she was injured and could only walk with difficulty； she wore fine cloth。 She was clearly of high rank and beautiful； with long dark hair。'
'Enough of that。 I know the woman well enough without your description。 After they left the oasis； which way did they go？'
'They harnessed the horses to the three chariots and left immediately。'
'Which way； man？ Which direction did they take？'
'East along the caravan road。' He pointed out the winding track that climbed the low hills into the dune country。 'But the old man's hair was no longer dyed。 When last I saw him； it shone like a cloud in the summer sky。'
'When did they leave？'
'An hour after sunrise； Majesty。'
'What was the condition of their horses？'
'Well watered and rested。 They had been lying up at the oasis for three days and they had brought a load of fodder with them when they arrived。 When they left this morning their waterskins were filled at the well and they seemed to be provisioned for the long journey to the sea。'
'Then they are only hours ahead of us。' Trok exulted。 'Well done； fellow。 You have earned my gratitude。 My scribes will issue you with the licence to trade； and Colonel Tolma will assign you an escort to Avaris。 You will be further rewarded when I return to the city with the fugitives in bonds。 You shall have a fine seat in the front row of spectators at their execution。 Until then I wish you a good journey and much profit in my kingdom。'
He turned from him and began issuing orders to Colonel Tolma who followed him closely in the second chariot of the column。 'Give this fellow a trade licence and an escort to Avaris。 Top up the waterskins at the well； and let the horses drink their fill。 But swiftly； Tolma。 Be ready to leave again before noon。 In the meantime send your wizards and the regimental priests to me。'
The troopers took the horses down to the well in batches of twenty at a time to drink。 The men who were not busy with this work stretched out in the shade thrown by their own vehicles to rest and eat a frugal meal of millet bread and dried meat； the staple diet of the cavalry。
Trok found a patch of shade under a gnarled tamarind near the well。 The wizards and holy men came in response to his summons and squatted in a circle around him。 There were four of them； two shaven priests of Seueth in their black robes； a Nubian shaman hung with necklaces and bracelets of charms and bones； and a sorcerer from the east known as Ishtar the Mede。 Ishtar had one wall eye and his face was tattooed with purple and red whorls and circles。
'The man we are pursuing is an adept of the occult arts；' Trok warned them。 'He will exert all his powers to frustrate us。 It is said that he can weave a spell of concealment； and that he can conjure up images that might dismay our legions。 You will have to work your own spells to turn aside his powers。'
'Who is this charlatan？' asked Ishtar the Mede。 'You can be certain that he will not prevail against our bined force。'
'His name is Taita；' Trok replied； and only Ishtar showed no dismay at the identity of their adversary。
'I know Taita only by reputation；' he said； 'but I have long looked for an opportunity to match him。'
'Weave your magic；' Trok ordered them。
The priests of Seueth went aside a short distance and laid out their accoutrements and mystical trappings on the sand。 They began to chant softly and shake their rattles over them。
The Nubian searched among the rocks around the well； until he found a venomous horned adder under one of them。 He lopped off its head and dribbled the blood over his own head。 With it running down his cheeks and dripping off the tip of his nose； he hopped in circles like a great black toad。 As he pleted each turn he spat copiously towards the east where Taita lay。
Ishtar built a small fire near the well and squatted over it； rocking on his heels and muttering incantations to Marduk； the most powerful of all the two thousand and ten gods of Mesopotamia。
Once he had given his orders to Tolma； Trok went across to watch him at work。 'What magic are you making here？' he asked at last； as Ishtar opened a vein in his wrist and let a few drops of his own blood drip and sizzle in the flames of the fire。
'This is the hex of fire and blood。 I am placing obstacles and hardships in Taita's path。' Ishtar did not look up。 'I am confusing and confounding the minds of his followers。'
Trok grunted sceptically； but secretly he was impressed。 He had seen Ishtar work before。 He walked a short way along the road and glared at the line of eastern hills。 He was hot for the pursuit and grudged this stay。 On the other hand he was enough of a general to realize the absolute necessity of resting and watering the horse after the long night ride。
He knew well the nature of the ground ahead。 As a young captain of chariots he had patrolled there on many occasions。 He had crossed the shale beds that cut hoofs and hocks like flint knives； and had endured the terrible heat and thirst of the dunes。
He walked back to where he had left his chariot； but he had to pause and turn his back as a sudden dust devil came swirling across the yellow plain； spinning upon itself and rising several hundred cubits into the sultry air。 The vortex enpassed him。 The air was as hot as the breath from a bronze furnace； and he had to cover his nose and eyes with his headcloth and breathe through the material to strain out the flying sand。 It swept past and spun away across the hot earth with the grace of a harem dancer； leaving him coughing and wiping his eyes。
It was a little before noon and they had just finished the watering when the second column under Colonel Zander caught up with them and came down the slope to the well。 They were as much in need of water as the first column and now there was danger of congestion at the oasis。 Already the water was depleted and muddied。 They would be forced to fall back on the precious waterskins to eke out the supply。
Trok held a brief conference with Zander and Tolma； explaining his plan of action； and the formation he wanted to employ to prevent Taita from twisting and turning out of t