Shadow of the Storm Lord [antikvár]

PROLOGUE It was early morning and the sun was rising. The guards patroUing the palace walls were already sweating in the Egyptian heat. But no natural light ever reached the private bedchamber of Oba the Pharaoh. The windows were shuttered and barred. The room was steeped in darkness. The only light came from a metal fire basket in its very centre, heaped with burning charcoal. It filled the room with a ghouhsh glow, making the ornate fittings gleam red and causing hungry shadows to lick at the walls. The room was piled with riches and ornaments, all stolen from Oba's own people. The boy Pharaoh was as vain as he was wicked. Like all young Egyptian men, he