"There is a complication, my lord Pharaoh," I said.

His heavy lids flickered. "Indeed? What is it?"

I told him about Imriel.

When I had finished, he laughed. "And what would you have me do about it? By all rights, I should sendfor de Penfars right now and remand the boy to his custody! It would win me favor with the D'Angeline Queen."

"It would," I said, "until I told her about your alliance with Melisande Shahrizai."

"There is that." Pharaoh rubbed his chin. "What do you propose?"

"We will be gone in several days' time, my lord. If, at that time, I sent various letters to you by messenger, you might see them enacted and dispersed. That, from the Lugal, regarding the survivors of the zenana," I nodded at the letter he held, and produced three more, "this, to be sent to Lord Amaury Trente in Tyre, and this, to be given to Ambassador de Penfars, who will send it by courier to Queen Ysandre. Both detail my suspicions, and give the reason for my actions, asserting that you had no knowledge of my presence and that I relied on your integrity as a ruler to see the missives delivered."

"Sent by messenger, eh?" He thought through the implications. "So it shall seem I'd no idea you were here until you were gone."

"Yes, my lord Pharaoh." I sat straight under his considering gaze.

"You could have done that," he said.

"I could, my lord. But I have an obligation to the women of the zenana. I was entrusted with seeing them restored to Menekhet, and securing your cooperation. I could not leave without doing it."

The fans moved in broad sweeps, stirring the sultry air. Ptolemy Dikaios rested his chin on his fist and stared at me. "You're an odd woman, Phedre no Delaunay; beautiful, but odd. For whom is the third letter?"

My mouth had gone dry. "Melisande Shahrizai de la Courcel."

He gave a short bark of laughter.

"My lord," I said. "This I do not ask, but leave to your discretion. Whether or not your communications with her have continued, I do not know, and do not inquire. If they have not. . ." I shrugged, placing the letters on the low table between us. "Consign it to the flames. If they have . . . whatever else she may be, she is a mother, my lord Pharaoh, sore grieved for the loss of her son. She has the right to know he lives."

Pharaoh picked up the letters and studied them, bejeweled rings glinting on every finger of his hands.

"Very beautiful, and very odd. You take a risk in coming to me alone, my lady."

"Yes." I nodded. "However, my lord, if I have not returned by sundown, my companions will claim asylum of Ambassador de Penfars."

His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Embassies are vulnerable."

"Let me guess." Pharaoh tapped two fingers on the thick parchment envelopes. "There are letters already awaiting delivery." I nodded. "As it happens, my lord, there are."

He laughed and tossed the letters on the table. "Ah, Lady Phedre! You entertain me; you entertain me greatly. So be it. I give you two days. On the third, I will announce the receipt of great news, and your Menekhetan refugees will be received with much fanfare. Your letters shall be sent accordingly to the Ambassador and to Tyre, and I shall tender my profoundest apologies for my ignorance of your duplicity.

I sincerely hope, my lady, that by that time, you are well on your way upriver."

"We will be." I knelt and made a heartfelt obeisance. "Thank you, my lord Pharaoh."

Ptolemy Dikaios waved a jeweled hand. "Go, and be gone."

SIXTY-FIVE.

OVER THE next two days our arrangements were made, with Nesmut's aid and Kaneka's supervision.

We would travel by felucca, the swift, shallow sailing-boats, up the river as far as Majibara, the great caravanserai that marked the end of Menekhet and the border of Jebe-Barkal itself. There our company-seven, all told-would part ways, for two of the women were bound for the western province of Nubia, while the rest of us would strike south across the desert.

Thanks to the Lugal's generosity, we had no lack of funding. On Kaneka's advice, we converted a number of gifts into "trader's coin," heavy chains of soft yellow gold to be paid out link by link. These were given unto Joscelin's keeping, and he wore them about his neck, hidden beneath his clothing.

We spent lightly on supplies in Iskandria, for Kaneka assured us that everything could be had cheaper in Majibara and provisions were ample along the river. We purchased tents of oiled silk, rolled straw sleeping-pallets and a few cook-pots. I bought a broad-brimmed hat to shade my head, and a burnoose of white cotton; for the rest, I still had my Akkadian garb and the celadon riding attire Favrielle no Eglantine had fashioned for me, which suited the climate well. The other, that I'd worn in Drujan, was long discarded.

New clothing, then, and little more. It might almost have been a pleasure-cruise. We all dined together on our last night in Iskandria, Nesmut included. He regarded Imriel with a certain envy, for having been at the center of great events and embarking on a grand adventure. 'Twas strange, seeing them together. For all that Nesmut was the elder, he seemed the younger of the two, high-spirited and merry.

As before, it made me think of Hyacinthe. Was he like me? Imriel had asked, When he was a boy? Not much, I had said; 'twas true, when he was a boy. Now ... I saw the shadows in Imri's eyes, the memory of pain and the burden of his heredity, the hunger that surfaced as he watched Nesmut laugh, eating and drinking with a will, happy in his status. And I remembered Hyacinthe's terrible smile and how alone he had been, how profoundly alone.

Truth be told, I was glad Imriel was here.

After we dined, we said our farewells, for we would be off with the dawn.

"I am sorry," I said to Khepri, who was the one I knew best among the Menekhetans, "that it had to be thus. You should have entered the city in procession. It is your right." She smiled, taking my hand. "Tomorrow is soon enough. We would not be here, were it not for you, and I do not need processions anyway. Peace is all I ask. You have given us that. I hope you find what you need."

"Thank you." I squeezed her hand. "I hope so, too."

Our time together was ended, our numbers dwindling.

In accordance with our plan, we left at sunrise. It is a thing to behold, sunrise upon the delta of the mighty Nahar. Kaneka spoke truly; of all rivers, it is the greatest. In Iskandria, 'tis scarce to be discerned as a river, but an unending series of canals and waterways, placid and calm, winding through a vast expanse of green.

We boarded in the soft hush of dawn, the air still balmy. There were two feluccas, each manned by a single Jebean. Our goods were loaded in short order and we found space aboard the vessels-Joscelin, Imriel, Kaneka and I aboard one, and Safiya and the two Nubians aboard the other. Our erstwhile captain raised a finger to test the breeze, then raised a crude stone anchor.

As the slanting rays of the early sun turned the brown waters of the delta to shimmering bronze, we were on our way.

In truth, the first leg of our journey to Jebe-Barkal was nearly a pleasure-cruise. Our feluccas with their lateen-rigged sails tacked back and forth across the sluggish waters, the sailors calling merrily to one another in Jeb'ez. The vegetation was thick and lush, tall papyrus growing along the waterways. Egrets and herons and sacred ibis picked their way along the shores, pausing statuesque to eye us as we passed, long-billed heads poised atop impossibly long necks. A gentle breeze blew at our backs and I felt, for the first time in many months, a touch of my old excitement at beginning a new journey.

To the south of the city some hours later, the myriad waterways gradually converged and the delta gave way to the river proper, broad and stately, flowing between green banks. All manner of traffic travelled the river, from rowboats and fishing vessels to galleys and ox-drawn barges. None travelled so swiftly as the light feluccas, stitching back and forth, triangular sails canted to catch the wind.

All along the riverbanks were villages, interspersed with plantations of wheat and sugarcane, lines of palm trees and tamarisk. We saw caravans, sometimes-camels and donkeys, strung in long processions along the banks. When I realized the speed with which our swift craft left them behind, I was glad I had heeded Kaneka's advice.

For a time, I was apprehensive and craned my neck to look behind us, fearing the Pharaoh would break his word and some pursuit would be forthcoming. It seemed, however, that none was, and after a while, I ceased to worry about it. If it came, it came; there was naught I could do about it.

To my sorrow, we would be unable to see some of the mightiest structures of Menekhet from the river, the Great Tombs of the ancients. Our captain generously offered to halt and guide us overland-for an additional fee, of course-but I deemed it wisest to remain on course, and Kaneka assured me that the temples further upriver would more than compensate.

We made camp that first night near a pleasant village, trading with the villagers for our dinner, roasting chickens which we ate with our fingers, accompanied by melons and sweet dates. The night was velvety-soft, spangled with stars. "I have to admit," Joscelin said drowsily, lounging before the fire. "This doesn't seem so bad."

"No." I sat cross-legged, combing knots out of Imriel's hair while he gritted his teeth at the pain. "Truly, it doesn't."

The days of that journey blend together in memory, distinguished only by the sights that marked our route. Our first hippopotamus, rising like a colossus from the river, water running in streams down its dark hide; the vast gape of its pink mouth, teeth like yellow pegs. Imriel leapt to his feet, shouting and pointing. Kaneka and the other Jebeans merely laughed. Afterward, we saw many of the creatures, placid and harmless so long as they were undisturbed. More dangerous were the crocodiles, of which there were an abundance. Dark-green and pebbled, they lurked like submerged logs, only the slitted reptilian eyes giving the lie to the illusion. Kaneka assured us that they move with great rapidity on dry land, and we were ever wary about venturing to the water's edge when we made camp.

There is a temple along the way dedicated to Sebek, the Menekhetan crocodile-god, and this we visited at Kaneka's insistence. It is on a bend that juts into the river, and I vow, there must have been a dozen or more of the beasts sunning themselves on the sandy bank. Our two felucca captains picked their beachhead cautiously, leaping ashore with long, hooked harpoons in hand to secure a path to the temple.

Here in the south, the Menekhetan faith has not been Hellenized, and it is augmented by Jebean traffic. I will own, though the temple itself was pleasant, the depictions of Sebek made me shiver. The crocodile-headed man-god is said to have devoured the dismembered pieces of Osiris, the dying-god whom the Hellenes have made one with Serapis, the lord of the dead.

Why they worship the crocodile, I was unsure.

"Lord Sebek has his place, little one," Kaneka told me, seeing my doubtful expression. "Even so, if the Nahar did not overflow its banks to devour the land, the fields could not be reborn. Besides, we have need of his forbearance." And so saying, she laid her offering-a clay figurine painted in bright colors-on the altar of Sebek and backed away bowing.

We had to wait an hour for the crocodiles to clear the sandy beach sufficient for our felucca captains to beat a path to the ships, cursing and sweating with anxiety.

"Some place for a temple!" Joscelin remarked after we had hoisted sail.

"Where else should it be?" Kaneka asked, logically enough. Looking at my face, she grinned. "We will stop at Houba, little one, and visit the temple of Isis. You will like that better, I think."

So the days passed, one like unto the other, and the Greatest River glided between green banks and deep valleys. True to Kaneka's promise, I saw mighty temples and vast tombs along the route, a testament to the tremendous antiquity of this land. The river flowed stronger and our progress slowed, the feluccas needing to tack ever more often across the current, stitching our course upstream. With naught else to do, Kaneka set about teaching Joscelin and Imriel the rudiments of Jeb'ez, singing children's counting songs and the like. It made me smile, thinking how hard I'd fought to get her to allow me to learn. Betimes our felucca captain, whose name was Wali, would join in and their mingled voices would ring across the waters.

Wali, I must say, had developed a prodigious infatuation for Kaneka and thought her the most splendid creature he'd ever seen. Clearly, he regarded her as a person of great stature. Whether or not it had beentrue in her native village of Debeho, I cannot say, but it had been true in the zenana, and it was certainly true now. Clad in richly embroidered Akkadian robes, she might have been some visiting ambassadress.

It was a source of amusement for the other Jebeans, who watched Wali make cow's-eyes at her around the campfire and laid bets in zenyan as to whether or not Kaneka would acquiesce. Near the end of our journey, she did, laying a hand on Wali's shoulder and beckoning him to her tent. Trembling with disbelief at his fortune, a broad grin splitting his face, he followed her.

I was glad of it, though the noise of their love-making kept us up half the night. There is no privacy in a small campsite. From what I had observed, Wali was a good man-simple and kind, with an abiding pride in his felucca. Certainly he was well-made, with pleasant, open features and broad shoulders and arms corded with muscle from handling the sails.

And Kaneka . . .

Kaneka was smiling in the morning, with the relaxed ease of a woman who has reclaimed ownership of her body's pleasure. I envied her that. There were jests that day, but they were good-natured and affectionate. When Wali sang a Jebean nursery-rhyme at the top of his lungs, everyone in both boats laughed and clapped, cheering him onward.

"Phedre?" Imriel sat beside me in the prow, dangling his legs over the edge.

"What? Imri, don't do that, a crocodile will bite off your feet."

He drew his legs in and hugged his knees, eyeing me gravely. "Why aren't you and Joscelin like . . ." he nodded at Kaneka and Wali, ". . . like that?"

"Ah, Imri." I smoothed the hair back from his brow. The terrible bruise on his temple was gone, though it had taken forever to fade, yellow traces lingering for weeks after the blow. "You know what I was, in Daranga."

He nodded, not meeting my eyes. "The Mahrkagir's favorite."

"Death's Whore," I said wryly. "You can say it. You said it before."

"I didn't know, then." His head came up, jaw set stubbornly, that look of House Courcel in his confrontational frown. "It was courage. I know that, now."

"It wasn't all courage." I made my voice gentle. "Imriel, some of the stories . . . some of the stories were true. I am an anguissette. Do you know what that means?"

He looked away and nodded again.

"There are places inside of us," I said, picking my words with care, "that are frightening, places no one should go. In Daranga, I had to go to that place. And . . . Imri, it's hard to find one's way back. I'm trying. But it's not easy. Can you understand?"

"Yes." He swallowed and picked at the cloth of his breeches before looking up at me, his deep blue eyes brimming with pain. "Do you ever ... do you ever miss it there?"

Ah, Elua! Answering tears stung my own eyes. Not trusting my voice, I nodded. Yes, I missed it. Iwoke in the night sometimes from dreams of blood and iron, sick with desire.

"I don't," he whispered. "Only . . . sometimes, it was easier, I think."

"Yes," I said, stroking his hair. "I know. But this is better. And it will get better, Imri. For all of us. Elua willing, for Joscelin and me, too."

And I listened to Wali's lusty singing, to Kaneka's rich laughter, and willed myself to believe it was true.

SIXTY-SIX.

HOUBA WAS the site of the last great temple of the Upper Nahar, a half-day's sail from the caravanserai of Majibara. It is perched on a lush, green island in the broad river, graceful palms waving over its narrow columns, tamarisk clustered thick about the foundations.

We disembarked and joined a line of supplicants awaiting admission to the temple, which did a brisk trade. Outside, under the hot sun, Menekhetans and Jebeans alike mingled in respectful good spirits, sharing gossip and water-skins, glancing curiously at we D'Angelines which is something so common all of us were used to it, even Imriel.

Inside it was as cool and airy as a place could be during early summer on the Nahar. I gazed at the frescos on the high walls, following the goddess' quest to reunite the severed portions of her divine husband Osiris and restore him to eternal life.

At the far end of the temple stood the great effigy, winged arms outspread, her horn-crowned head lowered to her supplicants. I paid for an offering of incense and knelt before the altar, gazing up at the goddess as the blue smoke arose, reminded of Naamah, who had laid down with the King of Persis on Blessed Elua's behalf, of gentle Eisheth, the healer, to whom I had prayed too seldom.

I prayed to them both, now, and to Isis, in whose lands I travelled. Merciful goddess, I prayed, restorer of life, make me whole. Make us all whole.

Whether or not she heard and was minded to grant my prayer, I cannot say; I was a foreigner in her lands, and too far from my own. Nonetheless, my heart felt lighter when I left.

"You see?" Outside the temple, Kaneka smiled at me. "I told you you would like this better."

That night we made camp not far from the outskirts of Majibara.

Indeed, sounds of the city were carried on the night breezes-a skirling sound of pipes, a burst of uproarious laughter, faint and distant. Tomorrow, our numbers would dwindle further. Achara and Binudi, the two Nubians, would depart, continuing westward along the Nahar, while the rest of us would strike south for Meroe.

Safiya, who was a native of Meroe, told stories of her city's glory and that of its regent, Queen Zanadakhete, who ruled over all of Jebe-Barkal. Her honor guard, she told us, was two thousand men, none shorter than six feet tall, all clad in splendid embroidered capes and bearing swords and spears and shields made of the patterned hide of the camelopard, tough and light-weight. I was not sure I could credit such stories, but Kaneka assured us they were true. Thus passed our last night upon the river.

I would be sorry to leave it. It was a pleasant mode of travel, aside from the crocodiles. Wali moped the whole of the way, clearly hoping Kaneka would change her mind and choose to stay with him. As for Wali, I think if he had not loved his boat so much, he might have gone with her, but no craft can navigate the cataracts of the Nahar, which are narrow and strewn with rocks, broken here and there by sharp precipices.

Majibara was vast indeed, a city of yellow sandstone made even larger by the number of caravans camped on its outskirts. We sailed into the city itself and took lodgings at what Wali swore was a reputable inn, hiring porters to bear our goods.

Menekhetans, Jebeans and Umaiyyati dominated, for there is trade overland from the Ahram Sea. Of a surety, there were no other D'Angelines-but nor did I see Caerdicci or Hellenes, or any of the more familiar nations.

And our journey was scarce begun.

What we would have done without Kaneka, I cannot say. She was a shrewd negotiator and wise in the ways of Jebean travel. One camel looks much like another to me. They are odd, ungainly creatures with great, furred humps upon their backs and lambent eyes, with lashes like a woman's. They can bear prodigious amounts of weight and go for many miles with neither food nor drink, traversing the desert sands on broad, splay-toed hooves.

They are also notoriously unpleasant and their shambling gait a torment, but that I learned later.

We spent the better part of a day arranging transport for Achara and Binudi, and that was accomplished in fine form, a train of donkeyporters hired and the transaction registered with Majibara's Master of Caravans. The women were excited, which I was glad to see; I do not think, until then, they entirely believed they would be returning home. I prayed they would find the homecoming they deserved.