“He wants lightning to hit him. Might be better for all of us,” Oresias said. “There’s been a revolt. Elements in the Mouseion, I gather…and the Jews. The Lokhias is under siege and the palace has been locked up. Soldiers loyal to the queen have dropped bombs on the Mouseion—”

“No!” Rhita felt the word leap out of her, a futile, outraged countermanding order.

Oresias grimaced in shared pain. “We should have known from the attitude in Bagdade and Damaske. We have no protection on the way back. For all we know, the Hunnos and Rhus border stations are being alerted now. I don’t think they have a radio fix on us yet, but they will if we have to send any more messages.”

Lugotorix stood tall and protecting over Rhita, his eyes dark under a heavy frown.

“What do we do here?” Demetrios asked, apprehensive but not fearful.

“Our mission,” Oresias said. “We have two hours before I order a pull-out and we try to get back. We’ll unload what we need from the cargo plane.” He ordered several soldiers to organize the transfer of supplies. Outside, the tanker’s engines roared over the storm. The fuel had been transferred, and now it was taking off. “A long, leisurely expedition is no longer possible, but we can investigate this gate, learn as much as we can, and save our skins before the Kirghiz or Kazakh Tatars or their Rhus masters are upon us.”

Atta had given up imprecations against the thunder and joined them under the tent. “Lightning hit the gate,” he said breathlessly. “It glowed like a lantern.” Simultaneously, he and Oresias looked at Rhita.

“My turn, isn’t it?” she said.

“I will bring the Objects,” Lugotorix said. She looked at the Kelt’s retreating back with some surprise. Everybody pushes me to this. I don’t like the feeling I have; my instincts say no….

Or was she simply afraid?

“Will lightning strike the clavicle, too?” Oresias asked.

“I don’t know,” she said softly.

“What?”

“I don’t know!” she shouted. Demetrios nodded phlegmatically and she turned away from him with a flash of disgust contradicting her earlier attraction. He can’t help. Nobody can help. I’m trapped.

Lugotorix returned with the large case. She unlocked it with her keys and removed the clavicle, holding it low before her, feeling its power in her hands and thoughts. It tries to reassure me. The Kelt adjusted his machine pistol and shifted from one foot to the other behind her. Oresias smiled and pulled aside the tent door.

Without hesitation, refusing to show any weakness to anybody, disgusted with herself and everything else—especially with her weak-minded notions of adventure the day before—she stalked out into the driving rain.

She stopped and turned, eyes blinking against the pounding drops. “That way,” Demetrois said, pointing her in the direction of the swale.