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gate. 'One thing, more,' he told his friend as they stood in the moonlight. 'Last night, as I held the Stone I had a strange dream. I saw a man in golden armour. He came to me and sat beside me. He gave me a message for you; he said you must seek the Sword of God. Does it mean anything to you?'
    'Nothing. Did you recognise him?'
    'No. His face shone like the sun, and I could not look at him.'
    'The Great One will make it plain to me,' said Nu as he reached out to embrace the smaller man.
    'May He watch over you, Bali.'
    'And you, my friend.'
    Bali silently opened the gate and peered out into the shadows. 'It is clear,' he whispered. 'Go quickly.'
    Nu embraced him once more, then stepped into the shadows and was gone. Bali re-bolted the gate and returned to his room, where he sank into his chair and tried to repress his regrets. With the Stone he could have rebuilt his empire and enjoyed eternal youth. Without it? Penury and death.
    He moved back into the main house, stepping over the body of the Achean sailor who had brought him the Stone. Ball had not even possessed the sixty silver pieces the man had requested, but he still owned a knife with a sharp blade.
    The sound of crashing timber caused him to spin and run back towards the garden. He arrived to see the gate on its hinges and three dark-armoured Daggers moving towards him, their reptilian eyes gleaming in the moonlight, their scaled skin glistening.
    'What... what do you want?' asked Bali, trembling.
    'Where iss hee?'
    'Who?'
    Two of the Daggers moved around the garden, sucking the air through their slitted nostrils.
    'He wass here,' hissed one of them and Bali backed away. One of the Daggers lifted a strangely shaped club from a scabbard at his side, pointing it at the little trader.
    'Lasst chance. Where iss he?'
    'Where you will never find him,' said Bali, and drawing his knife he leapt at the Dagger. A sound like thunder came from the small club in the reptile's hand, and a hammer smote Bali in the chest.
    The little man was hurled on his back to the path where he lay sprawled, staring sightlessly up at the stars.

    A second shot sounded and the Dagger pitched to the ground, a black hole in his wedge-shaped head. The other creatures spun to see the golden-haired woman, Sharazad. 'I wanted Bali alive,'
    she said softly. 'And my orders will be obeyed.'
    Behind her a dozen more Daggers crowded into the garden.
    'Search the house,' she ordered. 'Rip it apart. If Nu-Khasisatra escapes, I will see you all flayed alive.'

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Of all the seasons God had granted it was the Spring that Shannow loved above others, with its heady music of life and growth, its chorus of bird-song and richly coloured flowers pushing back the snow. The air too was clean and a man could drink it in like wine, filling his lungs with the essence of life itself.
    Shannow dismounted before the crest of a hill and walked to the summit, gazing out over the rippling grass of the plain. Then he squatted on the ground and scanned the rolling lands before him. In the far distance he could see a wandering herd of cattle, and to the west several mountain sheep grazing on a hillside. He moved back from the skyline and studied the back-trail through the mountain valley, memorising the jagged peaks and the narrow ways he had passed. He did not expect to return this way, but if he did he needed to be sure of his bearings. He unbuckled the thick belt which carried his gun scabbards and removed his heavy topcoat, then swung the guns around his hips once more and buckled the belt in place before rolling his coat and tying it behind his saddle. The stallion was contentedly cropping grass and Shannow loosened the saddle cinch.
    Taking his Bible he sat with his back to a boulder, slowly reading the story of King Saul. He always found it hard to avoid sympathising with the first King of Israel. The man had fought hard and well to make the nation strong, only to have a usurper preparing to steal his crown.