If nothing else, they were laden with spoil, and greed may prevail where compassion falters.

What stories they would tell their families, I never asked.

Our own arrangements took considerably longer. It would require a forced march of some seven days to regain the river. While this would cut a month or better from our route, it would be grueling. There was only one watering-hole along the route, and that of salt water so bitter only the camels could drink it. The rest, we must carry ourselves. To that end, where we had spent lightly in Iskandria, trusting in the route's rich provisions, we spent heavily in Majibara. Water-skins we bought in abundance, and two great casks to augment our supply; and sacks of sorghum for camel-fodder. For ourselves, we would carry a supply of dried meat cut in strips, dates and a crumbling white cheese made of goats' milk, none of it especially appetizing. Jebeans are great hunters, and where they cannot get fresh game, they make do with scant provision.

Other items as well we purchased: skinning knives, soap, butter, a pair of lanterns, an aromatic unguent reputed to keep lice at bay, satchels, woolen blankets, needles and thread, and bits of hide and thong for patching boots and tack. Joscelin, who'd regretted the lack on the river, bought a set of fishing hooks and sturdy line, which made me laugh, bound as we were for the desert.

We hired four guides and twelve camels, and I cannot count how many Kaneka interviewed before shefound a company that suited her exacting requirements. The marketplaces of Majibara are difficult to endure, spread beneath the baking sun and stinking of camel dung. I was glad when it was done and Joscelin measured out five links of chain, prying them loose and paying them unto the guide-master under Kaneka's judicious eye.

"Eat well," she said when the deal was concluded, "drink your fill and visit the baths, for tomorrow we enter the desert."

There was music that night at the inn, a percussionist playing on goat-hide drums to the accompaniment of some wailing stringed instrument, like unto a harp but with only four strings and a looser tone. We sat up for a time and listened, lingering over cups of beer.

"In the Cockerel," Joscelin said, smiling, "there would be dancing."

"And wine." I laughed. "Do you remember the headache I had?" "The day we set out for Landras? You looked the way I feel at sea.

"We were toasting Hyacinthe," I remembered. "At least I was, and Emile. Imri, I never told you, but if it hadn't been for the Tsingani, we would never have found you." I told him, then, about asking for Emile's aid and how Kristof, son of Oszkar, had brought his kumpania to find us at Verreuil.

"Because of Hyacinthe?" he asked when I was done.

"Yes," I said. "Because of Hyacinthe."

Imriel thought about it, frowning his Courcel frown. "Then it is right that I am here, trying to help him.

Whether he knows it or not, I am in his debt. It is right and fair."

It would have been humorous, coming from anyone else his age.

This boy could be dangerous. Or he could be something else.

"Yes," I said. "It is right, and fair."

In the early morning, when the sky had lightened to a leaden grey, the stars still visible, we assembled our caravan and set out across the vast wasteland of the desert.

It was my first experience at riding a camel, and I must own, for all I had boasted of my hard-won horsemanship skills, this was somewhat completely different. At the guide's command, my mount lowered itself to its knees, huffing prodigiously. With some apprehension, I clambered into the stiff, high-backed saddle and the camel rose, swaying. I felt very far above the ground, and in no way in control of the strange beast.

"Very good!" said Mek Timmur, our Jebean caravan-guide. "Very good, lady!"

I looked at Imriel, clinging to his saddle and grinning fit to split his face. On the other side of me, Joscelin sat at his ease, wearing a white burnoose with the hood lowered and looking for all the world like he'd ridden a hundred camels. Kaneka and Safiya were as comfortable as if they'd been lounging on couches. Well and good, I thought; if they could manage, so could I. After the first few miles, I ceased to worry about riding a camel.

The challenge of the desert was overwhelming enough.

For one who has not endured it, it is hard to describe. Words like "heat" and "sun" lose all meaning. The desert was a vast expanse of yellow sand, flat as a board, stretching in all directions. As the sun cleared the horizon and began to climb into the sky, the heat mounted, relentless as a hammer. When it was still, one prayed for a breeze; when the breeze came, it was like the breath of a furnace, hot and parching. I perched atop my shambling camel and withered, feeling my skin, my mouth, my very eyeballs sandy and desiccated.

Here and there, we passed barren hills, pyramids of black basalt jutting forth from the flat sands. At midday, Mek Timmur declared a halt of two hours in the shadow of one such. The respite afforded by the shade was offset by the heat of the stone itself, radiant in the sun. I leaned against an outcropping of rock, fanning myself with my broad-brimmed hat and clutching the cool, sweating bulk of a water-skin.

"You see?" Kaneka said cheerfully. "Safer than Nineveh."

I was too hot to do anything but nod.

The rest of the day passed in much the same manner, and we pushed on into the night. When twilight fell, it was strangely beautiful, the purple shadows lengthening across the endless desert. Nowhere else in the world can one see how far light travels unimpeded, nor darkness. In the absence of the sun, the temperature dropped to bearable levels. Under a canopy of stars, we travelled onward, the spongy footfalls of the camels oddly silent on the desert floor, accompanied only by the rattle of our gear and our own soft breathing.

At what hour I could not guess, Mek Timmur ordered camp made and in short order our tents were pitched, the camels staked for the night, kneeling under the stars and chewing meditatively on their measures of sorghum. I fell onto my own pallet and slept like the dead.

And on the following day, we did it all over again.

Terre d'Ange is a rich and fertile land. While I have travelled to many lands that made me long for home, never had I experienced any place so completely and utterly barren, lacking in all elements that sustain life. If we had not carried our own water, of a surety, we would have died in the first days. The heat and dryness was such that it leeched all moisture from the flesh. On the third day, we entered a sea of grey stone, locked into impossible waves and sculpted by the wind. And here the simoom blew, the killing wind of the desert. It was fortunate that we were not in the sands, where we would have had no choice but to wait out the windstorm, crouched beside the bulk of our camels and praying they would shelter us from the suffocating sands. As it was, it was bad enough, but we persevered, wrapping our faces in turbans, reemerging into the airless sea of ochre sand.

Among us all, I daresay Imriel bore it the best, enduring the scorching heat with all the resilience of youth. At the end of the day, he alone had breath left for chatter; even Joscelin, with his Cassiline endurance, looked haggard and weary.

On the fourth day, we reached the watering-hole.

I had expected-oh, I don't know, an oasis of sorts, shaded with palms, a small encampmentsurrounding it. 'Twas nothing of the sort, but a crater within the desert, flanked by tall cliffs and fantastically hot, lacking the least vegetation. The well was deep and plentiful, but 'twas true, the water was bitter and fit only for the camels, which drank it without harm. All about the floor of the valley, we saw the corpses of camels that had been pushed too hard and sickened and died in sight of water. I understood, then, a little better why Kaneka had been so particular in her choice of caravans. There are no scavengers in the desert-not even blowflies-and the skeletons of the camels were perfectly preserved, sand-colored hummocks, the hides parched and withered onto the bones.

If the water was unsuitable for drinking, at least one could bathe in it, and this we did, filling a large copper basin brought for the purpose. I washed the airborne grit from every crevice of my body, rinsing my sand-caked hair and feeling several pounds lighter for it. Such was the heat that the water evaporated from my skin within minutes of my bath, leaving me cleaner but no less dehydrated for it. My hair, drying nearly as quickly, fair crackled with electric heat.

I remembered ruefully the counsel I'd given Pharaoh's wife, poor, simple Clytemne. Would that I'd had a salve of wool-fat on this journey!

And then we were off again, boarding our lumbering, swaying camels, emerging from the baking shadows of the valley into the blazing wasteland. My lips parched and cracked, and I wet them sparingly with small sips from my water-skin. Only the heaps of dried camel dung at our resting-points gave evidence that anyone else in the world had passed this way-that, and the occasional corpse, the desiccated mounds of fallen camels.

"You are sure," I said to Kaneka at one point, my voice thin and cracking, "that this is the wisest route to Meroe?"

"The wisest?" From under the shadow of her hood she looked at me, eyes dark and amused. "I never said it was the wisest, little one. But it is the shortest."

Yellow sand and basalt hills gave way to granite, grey plains and rugged hills laced with a vein of blue slate, an unexpected gift of color. It fed the imagination until one's mind conjured lakes, vast lakes, blue and shimmering in the distance. The first such vision excited me and I urged my camel onward over the desert floor, imagining the cool depths, plunging my whole head into the waters and drinking my fill, until my parched throat was slaked at last and my belly filled with water, as much water as it could hold.

"No, lady." Mek Timmur held me back, grasping my camel's reins and shaking his head, looking sorrowful. "It is illusion. Only illusion."

I didn't believe him, not at first. After another hour's march, when the shimmering lake remained at the self-same distance, I began to believe. And then he adjusted our course, moving slightly to the east, and the "lake" faded, giving way to barren rock. Then, I believed.

Onward and onward. Our water-skins ran dry, and we had to breach one of the casks, huddling around to share it out among us, lest a drop be spilled. At night, my mouth was so dry I could hardly chew the strips of dried meat. Our camels plodded through deep sand and scree, staggering on the loose pebbles. How long had it been? A week, Kaneka had estimated. It felt like far longer. Despite the best care of the guides-and they were good, if the stories I've heard were any indication-one of the camels foundered, wallowing on the desert floor. Imriel, angry and bitter, would have wept if he'd had the moisture for tears.

And slowly, slowly, the signs of life reemerged. First were a few stunted mimosa trees, ragged shrubs struggling for life. We hailed them with shouts of joy. On the next to last day, we saw a pair of gazelles, startling and unlikely, bounding southward at our approach.

On the last day, I could smell the river.

One would not suppose, being odorless, that the scent of water could travel so far. In an arid land, believe me, it does. My lord Delaunay trained me to use my nose no less than any other sense, and it was I who scented it first, the sweet, life-giving presence of moisture carried on the air.

We had regained the Nahar.

It was different, far different, from the broad, gracious expanse on which we had sailed upon our feluccas. Here it was younger and swifter, nearer to its source, and there were fewer settlements upon its banks, which were not nearly so lush.

Still, it was water, and life.

We had crossed the desert.

SIXTY-SEVEN.

FROM THE banks of the Nahar, it was another several days' journey to Meroe, which lay at the juncture of two Great Rivers-the Nahar, which we had travelled, and the Tabara, which led further south. After the forced march across the desert, this leg of the journey was nearly leisurely. Day in and day out, we drank our fill of water. I never thought it would seem such a luxury.

There were villages along the way, albeit small and struggling. Here we traded for flat-bread and milk, augmenting our diet. And there was game, at last. Mek Timmur and the others hunted, bringing in gazelle, which we ate half-cooked and bloody.

'Twas not to my taste, to be sure. And yet it was better than one might expect. Deprivation is a sharp sauce for hunger.

With our schedule returned to something resembling normalcy, Joscelin resumed the practice of his Cassiline exercises-morning and night, tireless and diligent. It may be that I saw only what I desired, but I thought he was regaining a measure of his old fluid grace. Of a surety, 'twas meaningless without an opponent; and yet the forms were there.

So we made our way to Meroe, and with each mile that passed, Kaneka and Safiya's excitement grew.

Their long homecoming was at last becoming a reality.

We had to cross the river to reach the city, a dubious crossing on a vast, swaying bridge that hung suspended over the rapids. I will own, I was nervous, as our camels strung out in a long line, proceeding one after the other, Mek Timmur going first to argue the tarif on the far side. Nonetheless, the crossing was made without incident.

We had reached Meroe, the capital city of Jebe-Barkal. As the desert has its own harsh beauty, Meroe has its splendor.

Bordered on either side by broad, rushing rivers, it is nearly an island unto itself, afforded natural protection and ready irrigation. On the outskirts of the city lie the royal cemeteries, looming pyramids of reddish mud-brick that challenge the brilliant blue skies, awing the weary traveller. Inside was the city proper, a busy and bustling place, with temples raised to the many gods of Menekhet and indeed, as Safiya told us, to other gods native to Jebe-Barkal, such as lion-headed Apamedek and Kharkos the Hunter, who wielded two bows in his four arms.

At the heart of Meroe lies the royal palace.

It is guarded by high walls, and both the east and west gates are flanked by sculptures of kneeling oliphaunts, massive beasts with trunks upraised, twice as tall as a man. I did not believe a living beast could be so large until I saw one ambling the streets of Meroe, a moving turret in which two soldiers rode affixed to its broad back. Its hide was grey and wrinkled, as thick as cured leather, and its feet the size of serving-platters. I stared, open-mouthed, having only read of such wonders. Its broad ears flapped like sails, moving the hot air. A squadron of soldiers preceded it, chatting inconsequentially among themselves, resplendent in embroidered capes over light mail, carrying the rumored shields of camelopard skin.

"So," Kaneka said softly, watching them pass. "At last you see my land."

I will own, it was humbling. There was so much I had not known of Jebe-Barkal.

'Twas Safriya's turn, in the city of her birth, to play the guide, and she directed our caravan to the finest lodgings in town, which were quite fine indeed. The camels were unloaded, and our farewells said; Mek Timmur and his assistants were bound for an encampment, and thus to seek employ on a return journey.

I wished them the joy of it, glad to leave the desert behind. Beyond, to the south, the purple shadow of mountains loomed, the highlands of Jebe-Barkal. It was there that Kaneka's village lay, and there we were bound; south, ever south. For all its splendor, Meroe was but another station on the way.

First, though, we would seek the Queen's blessing and see Safiya restored.

Of Queen Zanadakhete, I knew little; I had not even known, until this journey, that Jebe-Barkal, by tradition, is always ruled by a woman, wed or no. To some extent, her power is largely ceremonial, for there are princes-Ras, is the title-who rule each province. But in Meroe, her role is taken seriously indeed.

We composed our missive over dinner, all of us putting our heads together, and Safiya wrote it out in Jeb'ez, using parchment and ink that I provided. For all that I'd grown proficient at the spoken tongue, the script itself eluded me still. Safiya wrote it with a flowing hand.

"My father was a scribe," she said modestly. "I trained at his knee."

The hotel-keeper was paid, and the message delivered; a full link of gold, it cost us, one-fifth of the cost of our journey from Majibara. One pays, for access.

In the late afternoon of the following day, the reply came. We were summoned to court come morning.

Let Joscelin laugh-and he did, thinking me vain-but I dressed in D'Angeline finery for the audience,hauling my one court gown out of our trunks; the rose-silk with crystal beading that I had worn to meet Pharaoh. I would accord no less to the Queen-Regent of Jebe-Barkal. At Kaneka's insistence, we contracted an entourage and made our way to court thusly, beneath the fringed shade of our hired parasol-bearers.

Queen Zanadakhete received us in her inner courtyard, her august personage concealed behind a curtained alcove while the soft cries of caged birds and the redolent scent of citron surrounded us.

"So," she murmured in Jeb'ez, a half-glimpsed figure, her breath stirring the gauze curtains. "You have come from Khebbel-im-Akkad."

"If it please your majesty." I knelt, proffering the Lugal's letter. A dark arm swathed in ivory bangles emerged to take the letter; an older woman's hand, I thought, the knuckles swollen. There was a stir behind the curtains, and I heard a second voice murmur, translating the Akkadian text into Jeb'ez.

"It is good," the Queen's voice said when the translation was done, soft and satisfied. Behind the curtains, her gauze-misted figure inclined its head. "Although they have not come here, whispers have reached our ears of these . . . these things, these bone-priests, which even Pharaoh in Menekhet feared.

It is good they are overthrown, that my people are not in thrall there. The Khalifs son is pleased.

Daughters of Jebe-Barkal, you have done well. You shall be rewarded for it, and every honor given unto your families."

Kaneka and Safiya bowed low before her.

"Majesty." I drew a deep breath, redolent with citron. "My companions and I-we seek your permission to travel further south, in search of the descendents of Makeda, the Queen of Saba. Do you grant it?"

There was a pause, and a rustling; a swift exchange of whispers.

The gauze curtains were twitched apart and a bright black eye peered out, set in a wrinkled visage.

"You are the chosen of your gods?" the soft voice inquired. "The one who defeated the bone-priests?"

I hesitated, unwilling to make that claim.

"She is, Fedabin." It was Kaneka who spoke, firmly, bowing to press her brow to the earth. "I have seen it. Though she appears weak, the breath of her strange gods blows hard upon her neck."

Another long, assessing pause ensued. I knelt and held myself still, abeyante, in the earliest manner to which I had been trained. 'Twas naught new to me, Kaneka's revelation. Hyacinthe had spoken the prophecy for me long ago, delivering it to Melisande Shahrizai in the days when he would not dare bespeak my fate. That which yields is not always weak.

Not always, no. I have learned that much about myself.

"So be it," whispered the soft voice of the Queen, the aged hand turning palm-outward, scored with dark lines, ivory bangles clattering. "In the name of Amon-Re, in the blessed names of Isis and Osiris, your request is granted. Such aid as we have will be given. Where the name of Zanadakhete of Meroe holds sway, let these people pass unmolested."

I let out my breath in a sigh. It was done. Inside, we were met by Ras Lijasu, a grandson of the Queen. He was a handsome young man with his grandmother's bright inquisitive gaze, his ebony skin set off by splendid attire in cloth-of-gold-shirt and breeches, and the togalike chamma. I was glad, seeing him, that I'd worn my D'Angeline garb.

"So!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands. "All the way from Terre d'Ange, you have come! And Grandmother likes you, I am told. Such fun! Muni, where are the passage-tokens for our guests?"

His attendant comrade grinned and opened a coffer, and the Jebean prince reached in to grasp a handful of gold cords, each strung with an ivory cylinder that bore the seal of Meroe-Isis enthroned and lion-headed Apamedek.

"With these," Ras Lijasu said, taking my hand and knotting a corded token about my wrist, "you may wander anywhere in Jebe-Barkal, and declare yourself under the divine protection of Queen Zanadakhete." Still holding my hand, he smiled into my eyes. "And everyone you meet will be bound to offer you aid, even Ras Lijasu himself, do you ask him; the moon and the stars, do you ask him for it! Do you speak Jeb'ez, dream-spirit?"

"I do." I laughed. "Though I am more like to ask for maps and guides than the moon and stars, my lord Ras."

He staggered and put a hand to his chest. "She wounds me! Ah, she wounds me, Muni, this one with skin like new cream. What of you, lady?" Lijasu turned his winning smile on Safiya, taking her wrist to bestow a token upon her. "Will you, too, break my heart?"

Safiya stammered and blushed, unprepared for his attentions; I daresay as a scribe's daughter, she never expected to return from perdition to find herself the object of her prince's flirtations. He jested equally with Kaneka, who bore it with amusement, and he treated Joscelin with a warrior's courtesy, according scarce less to Imriel.

I liked him; it was impossible not to do so. For all his flirtatious ways, he took his duties seriously. An escort for Safiya was arranged in short order. In the interim, we adjourned to his study to pore over maps.

"Here, you see," he said, pointing to a broad plain alongside the Tabara River, "is Debeho; your home, Lady Kaneka," he added, sparing her a sly glance. "There is a man, a soldier of my guard, who is from the highlands very near there, and it is he I will release from his duties to guide you. And here ..." his finger traced a winding route amid the mountains along the river, stopping shy of a vast inland lake. "Here is where our borders end, and the lands of the descendants of Makeda begin." Ras Lijasu tapped the map. "There are bandits along the way, my lady of Terre d'Ange, who will not heed the Queen's seal; highland tribes never brought to heel. Are you sure you must venture thence?"