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other.
They turned into an open door, and Nefron an-nounced simply, "Pharaoh
Akhnaton."
Krysty hadn't been sure of what to expect, but the chamber into which she was
escorted was almost Spartan in its furnishings. It certainly wasn't a throne
room or royal living quarters. It was more like a study or a library. Shelves
laden with books and bound volumes of magazines covered two walls. A worktable
held the tools and materials of a sculp-tor clay, stone, chisels and delicate
picks.
A huge predark map of the United States hung on the far wall. Krysty noted
that large sections of it had been altered by red ink, no doubt to make it
conform to the geophysical changes since the nuke-caust.
The man seated at an ornately carved desk was a stranger, yet when he stood,
she knew with a sick, sinking sensation in her stomach that she had seen him
before.
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He looked to be in his midthirties, his black hair was short cropped and his
shoulders almost impossibly broad. He wore only a brown, gilt-edged vest and a
white linen kilt, which showed off his deeply tanned, muscled arms and legs.
How-ever, it was the deep red hue of his big eyes that captured Krysty's
attention.
He stared at her silently for a long moment, then stepped toward her. It
wasn't until he was next to her that she realized just how tall he was. At one
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inch shy of six feet, she was hardly petite, but he truly towered over her,
not just in height but in breadth.
In a low voice, he said, "I must have the name to which you presently answer."
Disregarding the odd phrase he had used, she said, "Krysty."
He bowed his head, as if ashamed. "Krysty, please forgive the manner in which
we meet again, but the circumstances dictated it to be the only way."
His voice seemed to echo and vibrate around her skull. Instead of feeling fear
or anger, she felt flus-tered.
"How should I address you?" she asked, tilting her head back, trying to meet
his gaze.
A smile creased his lips. "You may call me Akhnaton. There's no need for the
two of us to stand on formalities. I feel I know you intimately."
She felt her cheeks burning with a blush of em-barrassment or a flush of
anger.
She wasn't sure which. Rather than saying anything, she walked around him to a
chair facing the desk and sat in it. Akhnaton chuckled and returned to his
seat behind the desk.
"What did you mean about meeting me again?" she demanded, deliberately trying
to sound abrupt.
Akhnaton drummed his fingers on the desktop. "Are you telling me you don't
remember? Ah, well, that's unimportant. All that matters is you are here now,
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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_40_-_Nightmare_Passage when the monument nears
completion. Would you like something to drink?"
"That would be very nice," Krysty said, more to have something to say than to
quench her thirst.
Akhnaton closed his eyes for the briefest of moments. When he opened them,
Nefiron came through the door. "You wish something, Pharaoh?"
"Dandelion wine. The batch from three summers ago."
Nefron ducked her head. "By your command." Though her tone was subservient,
anger glinted in the dark depths of her eyes.
The woman quickly went to a cabinet across the room and removed a corked
earthenware bottle and two goblets. She brought them to Akhnaton's desk,
allowing the Pharaoh to remove the cork with a neg-ligent twist of thumb and
forefinger. Nefron filled the goblets, handed one to Krysty, then lingered by
her chair.
"You may go," Akhnaton intoned.
Nefron bowed her head again and left the room. She steadfastly avoided making
eye contact with Krysty.
Akhnaton sipped the wine and cast Krysty a ques-tioning look. She tasted it,
found it sweet with just a hint of a bitter aftertaste, but more than
palatable overall.
Akhnaton placed the goblet on the desk, and his eyes gazed directly into hers.
"Now that the wine has cleansed our palates of falsehoods, let us speak
truthfully and plainly, shall we?"
Krysty met that crimson stare and felt a distinct shock somewhere in the back
of her mind. "Yes," she heard herself saying, "we shall."
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"I knew our individual roads of destiny would converge at this time."
"Destiny?" She crooked an ironic eyebrow at him. "I'm not sure if I understand
you."
He gestured with both hands. "My monument could not be completed without your
presence, but I continued to build it, knowing you would arrive before the
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capstone ceremony. And you have."
"A strange coincidence, I can't deny that."
"Coincidence?" Akhnaton spluttered with laugh-ter. "Krysty, I have searched
for you for many years."
"Why?"
"Because you are my fated queen now, as al-ways. We have always been together.
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