''Captured from the Nephs by the Red Sea Fellahin,'' Steven said, ''then passed on to us. The ba cell's at about half capacity, which isn't bad. The Fellahin didn't squander it. And all that's needed is a day's charging in the sunshine to get the thing rolling again. The radiance of Ra is free ba for everyone. You don't have to pray for it.''
David ignored the tinge of sarcasm in his brother's voice. He was recalling the first time he ever saw Scarab tanks in action at first hand, during exercises on Salisbury Plain. They'd moved so lightly, that was what had surprised him. For such large vehicles they scrambled and bounced like dune buggies. That was thanks to their relatively thin armour and their drive spheres which, mounted on dual-axis gimbals, gave them turn-on-a-sixpence manoeuvrability. The downside, as he learned from one tank commander later, was that they were a pig of a ride. If you wanted to know how it felt to be the beads in maracas, spend some time in a Scarab.
''We have eighteen of them including this one,'' Steven went on. ''All solar powered, naturally. Round here you don't get any other kind, and anyway they're cheaper and easier to run than your North European diesel models. Some say they're inferior to the diesels but I disagree. They don't need refuelling every couple of hours, for one thing, and the power to weight ratio's roughly the same — solar cells have a lower b.h.p. output than an engine but aren't nearly as heavy, so it evens out. The only drawback with the solar version is that it's useless past midnight if you've run it too hard during the daytime. But that's not the end of the world, especially if you're up against other solar Scarabs. Then everyone's in the same boat, or rather tank.''
''Eighteen,'' said David. It seemed like a lot, and yet not nearly enough for what Steven apparently had in mind.
''We've some armoured personnel carriers as well, and a couple of half-tracks which are pretty much antiques but still going strong. I think they date back to the Belgian Congo campaign. Mid-1950s at any rate, but they built things to last in those days.''
''All embedded around the town.''
''Correct. Along with a good twenty or so weapons dumps, each as big as Kareem and Fatima's, some of them bigger. The fruits of three years of diligent stockpiling. As you've seen we've got some ba tech but most of the guns are conventional. Imported from South America, where else? The South Americans love their bullets and cordite, don't they? Have to, I suppose, given how thrifty with their ba the children of Horus are. Minor gods, less divine essence to spare — stands to reason. If the gods won't provide, there's always human ingenuity to fall back on, and Brazilian and Peruvian gunsmithery is second to none.''
''So this whole town…''
''… is one big arms cache, yes,'' said Steven. ''Our own quartermaster's stores, based in a tiny little flyspeck in the middle of nowhere. The last place anyone would think to look, if they were looking.''
''I'm impressed.''
''Thought you might be.''
''But…''
''But what?'' Steven said sharply, a flint-spark of irritation in his voice. ''What's the problem, Dave?''
''No problem.''
''You've got some criticism, though. I know it. I can tell. Something's niggling. Out with it.''
''It's just…'' David groped for the right words. ''You've plenty of materiel here to fight a localised war. But from what I've gathered, your plans are more ambitious than that.''
''You're saying I'm underprepared.''
''Not exactly, no. Well, sort of. I think maybe you've underestimated just how much weaponry you're going to need — by quite a large margin. You're taking on the whole world, Steven, that's what it comes down to. And however much you've got in the way of resources, it's just not going to be adequate.''
''Oh, Dave. Dave, Dave, Dave. This is bloody typical of you, isn't it?'' The irritation had flared into a flame of anger. ''Typical patronising older brother. To you I'm still little Steven, still Westwynter Minor who could never do anything right and was never as smart or as sporty or generally as good as you. You assume I haven't thought this through properly because that's how the old Steven was, the Steven you once knew. He never thought things through. He just did whatever came into his head and hang the consequences.''
''That wasn't what I-''
''Well, newsflash,'' Steven said, steamrollering on. ''I'm not him any more. It's been five years, and I've seen and done a lot during that time. A lot's happened to me. I'm not the same creature I used to be. And I resent you treating me like that, like nothing's changed and you still know best.''
''But I-''
Steven jabbed a finger in David's chest. ''You have no idea what my plans are. No idea! You just think it's going to be some half-arsed, cockeyed scheme that's never going to work. It's doomed to fail, and I'm going to wind up dead.''
''Yes!'' David exclaimed. ''That's precisely it. That's what I'm worried about.''
''But how can you-''
Now it was David's turn to interrupt. ''If you'll just let me get a word in edgewise,'' he said, ''if you'll shut up and listen for a second, you fuckwit…''
His brother leaned back, cocking his head. ''Come on then. Tell me where I'm going wrong. Give me the benefit of your great wisdom.''
''I only want to know if you're sure, really sure, this is what you want to do.''
''You're trying to get me to back out?'' Steven shook his head. ''No way.''
''Steven, up until a couple of hours ago I believed you were dead,'' said David. ''No, not believed. You were dead. Now, suddenly, here you are, alive, and it's great. I'm thrilled. Couldn't be more delighted. Only, it turns out you're hell-bent on throwing you life away on this, this campaign of yours. So try and see it from my point of view. I've only just been given my brother back and already I'm facing the prospect of losing him again. I'm trying hard to take it all in, all this, what's happened today, it's a lot to deal with, but right now my honest reaction is I don't want you to go to war against the Pantheon. Not because they're gods and you oughtn't defy them. Simply because, selfishly, you're my brother and I don't want you to die. Again.''
The Lightbringer's mask was impassive, frozen for a moment, blanker than ever. Then the material shifted in a way that indicated a broad smile had broken out underneath.
''That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long time,'' Steven said. ''You actually care about me.''
''Of course I do.''
''Never mind me changing. You've changed, Dave.''
''Have I? I always cared about you.''
''Maybe, but you never showed it. Not as obviously as you've just done.''
David shrugged, a little embarrassed, even though he knew he had nothing to be embarrassed about.
''Thing is,'' his brother went on, ''I couldn't back out even if I wanted to. People are counting on me. They've invested in me. I can't let them down.''
''You could disappear tomorrow,'' David replied matter-of-factly. ''Up and leave. Your followers would be disappointed, perhaps, but they'd get over it. There'd be no comebacks. No one knows who you really are. You could take off that mask and go anywhere, and that would be an end of it.''
''Do a moonlight flit? And what about everything I've established here? You think I can just walk away and leave it?''
''Someone else could take over.''
''No one else could.''
''Then without you in charge it might all simply fade away and be forgotten.''
''You're missing the point. You've seen how people react to the Lightbringer. This isn't some flash in the pan political movement, here today, gone the next. This is a bona fide revolution, the beginning of something big, seismically big. It's begun, it's grown, it's still growing, and it's about to explode across the world stage. I created it. I'm spearheading it. I'm not going to abandon it, not for any reason.''