Valerie took the smallest piece. "A nice way to put it. As a scientist, I do quite a bit of writing myself. Studies, reports, articles. I don't know if that would make me a scribe."

Jehut nodded. "A ne profession."

"I suppose." She glanced toward Nira, who sat on her left. The woman's face was still obscured, and Valerie wondered brie y if it would be impolite to move the lantern closer.

The old man held up something long and thin, like a marsh reed.

"Writing conquers time and the death of men. An idea once written down by the ancestor is thought out to its conclusion by his remote descendant, though it be centuries later."

The tea was nally cool enough for her to drink in gulps, and she slaked her thirst. A wave of relief passed through her. "Um, I don't think there's much conquest in my writing. I just tell people about Egypt."

Nira leaned forward to drop a few crumbs into the coals, and the mysterious face was brie y illuminated. It was not so much beautiful, Valerie saw, as...compelling. A moment later, the lean aristocratic Arab face withdrew again into shadow.

"Precisely so." Jehut brought her back to the conversation. "Sharif al Kitab served his master by telling his story. But now it is the voice of * 125 *

the scribe that lives, and the Emir is held captive in his words. Is not the scribe then the master?" He paused, letting his remark sink in. Then he smiled again. "Perhaps you will one day write about us."

Valerie set down her glass and wiped her ngers delicately across her lips. "Yes, maybe. Right now I am not writing. More like running.

The police appear to believe I have stolen something."

The old man raised his hand in some sort of signal. The dwarf got to his feet on one side of him, the young girl on the other. Together they lifted him to his feet.

"I must retire now. If the police come, do not worry. They do not stay long in the city of the dead. Good night." With his hands on the shoulders of the mismatched children, he let himself be led into the sleeping room.

"Good night," Valerie replied to his back. Her thirst nally gone, she began to feel her exhaustion. The pain in her head had subsided to a mild dizziness, and she could easily have stretched out on one of the pallets and gone to sleep.

"Is it the police that trouble you?" Nira slid closer.

In the warm lantern light, Valerie stared at the somber face as long as she dared, studying the exquisite groove that descended from between the nostrils to the bow of the lips. Full, but not voluptuous, the mouth opened slightly at the corners under the swelling of the muscles.

They gave the impression of youthful sensuality in a face that otherwise hinted of great age. In fact, she bore an extraordinary resemblance to the woman in the souq. But that made no sense.

"The police? Yes, of course, but that's only a part. You see, a few days ago I was very happy. I had made the discovery of a lifetime. Then I was hit by a stone and suddenly everything fell apart. A vicious man who used to be nothing to me now has power over my life. He is the one who has sent the police after me."

Valerie searched the other woman's face trying to make sense of it. Like Jehut, she did not seem to belong among the mis ts of the necropolis. Valerie could not imagine her belonging anywhere. "There are...other things too. Things I can't explain."

Nira moved the last few inches toward her and laid a hand lightly on her back. Under the sleeve of the abaya, Valerie felt sheltered, as if by a wing.

"He is unimportant. You have another story and it is not his."

* 126 *

"Well, yes. We sort of had that out this morning. But I don't even really know what my story is. The life I had and believed in has been snatched away from me and nothing else put in its place."

Nira leaned slightly against her shoulder. "Go away from this man, into the desert, if you must."

"But I've just come from there." Valerie wanted to whine.

Long ngers curled around her hand, and she grasped them back.

The ageless face came closer, and the stranger's lips were suddenly over the wounded ear. Valerie could not tell if the other woman was about to whisper or to kiss her, but it scarcely made any difference; Nira held her in a near embrace and she could have stayed in it forever.

The woman smelled of cardamom and cedar, and Valerie inhaled the fragrance with closed eyes. She waited for Nira to act and felt the quiet rising and falling of her chest as she breathed.

The night sky lit up suddenly, and Valerie startled. On the other side of the wall, the sound of tires on gravel revealed it was from automobile headlights.

Nira drew back. "I think you must leave now. Come. I will show you where to hide."

A car door slammed and Valerie lunged to her feet. Nira snatched up the lantern and ran ahead of her to the back court. When they turned the corner, Valerie saw with a shudder where she was to hide-in the tomb of Sharif al Kitab. One end of the low stone sarcophagus was broken and lay at like the lid of a spaghetti box. By the lantern light, Valerie could already see the skull of its inhabitant. She knelt down reluctantly.

Nira knelt in front of her, taking Valerie's face in both hands.

"Do not be afraid," she whispered, and suddenly pressed warm lips on Valerie's mouth.

Shock, fear, and sudden arousal set her heart pounding, and Valerie held the kiss, letting dangerous seconds pass. Finally, the sound of footfall and men's voices propelled her into the hollow space. Nira set the stone back in its place at an angle, leaving a crack at the side.

For a moment Valerie felt terror at being immured alive. Then her ngers found the crack, and she understood that she had only to push back the slab to be free. The trickle of air streaming over her cheek reassured her, and the silence outside con rmed she was well hidden.

She could endure a few minutes of con nement in darkness and in dust.

* 127 *

Saracen dust, she realized, giddy with exhaustion.

"Sharif al Kitab." She murmured nonsense to herself, to keep the fear at bay. "Is that your head that presses so un-Islamically against my breast? Sorry to intrude in your tomb, poor Yorick. Where do you suppose the rest of you is? Still in Jerusalem, you think?" Pleased with her witticism, she closed her eyes. Or perhaps they were already closed; in the pitch blackness, it was the same. Feeling the cool night air trickle over her face, she tried to imagine she looked out into open space and fell into a light sleep.

An army of Crusaders pursued her, and the grim knight who carried the banner of Christ was Vanderschmitt. She ed before them into Holy Jerusalem and joined the Saracens on the wall. Pierced by an arrow, Husaam al Noori fell into her arms and she held him while he died, his head leaning against her breast. Below the platform, rigid in their righteousness, the Crusaders crashed through the gates with iron battering rams. Over the invading army the noon sun shone ercely, and the spears and arrows that blazed down on the defenders seemed to fall from vengeful heaven. Suddenly the banner knight stood over her.

Helpless where she crouched, she saw his sword curve in an arc and come down on the side of her head.

Valerie awoke into the terrifying darkness. She thrashed in panic, hitting her hands against the stone, and the slab behind her head fell away with a thud. The patch of open night sky, lighter than the tomb, brought a sudden gust of air, and she scrambled toward it.

She struggled to stand up on cramped legs and listened, bewildered.

Silence all around; the police must have gone. But why hadn't Nira come to fetch her? By ambient light she could discern the vague forms of walls and gateways, and so she groped her way back to the central court where the family had sat.

No one. Nothing. No charcoal stove or lantern.

"Nira? Jehut?" She called out softly. Then again more loudly.

"Nira?" No response. Only the sound of dirt trickling as some night rodent dislodged it from between stones. She remembered her Zippo lighter and took it from her pocket, relieved. She icked the wheel over the int, and a sudden dry spark ashed and caught the wick. An inch-long ame appeared, bobbing silently up and down within its metal collar.

Holding the light in front of her, she moved along the arcade to the sleeping room. Still nothing. Only tattered rags, folded under * 128 *

disintegrated straw. She walked in a circle around the court and then to the spot where they all had sat. But her little ame revealed neither ash nor bread crumb. Where there was dust, it was undisturbed and bore no footprints other than her own.

Shivering, she made her way out to the main road of the cemetery.

To the right, farther into the necropolis, she saw the bare-bulb lights of denizens who patched together electrical connections. On the left the tombs were dark, but it was no more than two hundred meters to the cemetery gate through which she had come. Lit by city lights from the other side, it gave off a soft smoky halo. She hurried through it, emerged onto the city street, and shook her head at the comforting banality of half a dozen taxis waiting for business. Patting her trouser pocket to make sure she still had money, she waved to the closest of them. "Zamalek," she said. "Ahmed Sabri Street. And hurry, please."

In the dark backseat of the taxi she pressed ngers to her lips.

She was not crazy; someone, something, had kissed her. She wondered what the hell it was.

* 129 *

* 130 *

CHAPTER XIX:.

FLIGHT INTO EGYPT.

Where have you been? I've been worried sick! And you're covered in soot! What happened?" Wide-eyed, Derek stepped back and held the door open.

She brushed past him and dropped her knapsack on the oor. "We have to get out of here!" She walked into the living room where Auset watched television.

Derek followed. "We know that already. But what happened to you?"

"Shh!" Auset waved her hand behind her without turning away from the screen. "News report."

"About us?" Valerie asked, alarmed.

"No, Palestine. Suicide bomber. A woman blew up part of a settlement."

Valerie shook her head. "Israel will retaliate soon enough."

"Already has. They're bulldozing the houses in her street right now. Or maybe that's what made her do it in the rst place." The three watched the images of collapsing walls, soldiers holding back thrashing women, old men weeping. The coverage turned to the settlement. More of the same.

Stone-faced, Auset turned off the television. "So, what happened to you?" she asked over her shoulder. "Derek was frantic."

"I was so worried that I made Auset call Antiquities," he con rmed.

Valerie looked up, alarmed. "You called them? You didn't tell them your address, did you?"

"Of course not," Auset said. "We just asked when you left, and they said right after the presentation. Although now that you mention it, * 131 *

they did keep asking who I was. I didn't tell them that either. So are you going to tell us what happened? You're a mess, and look. Your cheek is bleeding again. Derek, be a dear and get us a washrag."

Valerie sat down wearily on the sofa and leaned back with closed eyes. "Vanderschmitt knows we have the mummy. The bastard actually smacked me and then went to fetch the authorities. I got out of there fast, but I spent half the night in the necropolis, some of it in a tomb."

She pulled herself upright. "Auset, I'm sorry. It was a mistake to bring Rekemheb to Cairo. We have to get him out of here somehow."

Derek came back with the cloth. Auset folded it expertly and dabbed it against Valerie's in amed cheek. "We're ahead of you there,"

she reported. "Yussif has relatives in the Dakhla Oasis. Mango and guava farmers. He called them today, and they agreed to let us use a corner of their land. For a year if necessary. That will give you time to nd a more permanent place."

Derek's eyebrows went up. "Was that okay? I mean, I don't want to interfere, but I'm sort of permanently involved in this. I also kind of suspected there would be trouble if you got in Vanderschmitt's face."

Valerie winced, both at the touch of the wet cloth and at the memory. "More like he got in mine. But you did good. Moving Rekemheb is exactly the right thing."

"That's what we thought. Don't worry. Rekemheb understands that he has to stay out of sight when other people are around."

Valerie pushed away the cloth. "That's enough. Thanks. But listen.

I'm not sure Yussif should be involved in this. Neither should you, Auset. It's not your problem, and there's no reason to endanger you."

Auset crossed her arms in the narrow valley between her bosom and her belly. "We discussed that. But while you were gone, Rekemheb has been talking to us. Well, trying to. He and Derek have found a way to communicate-in a primitive sort of way. I've gotten used to him, and you know what? You're right. If the Ka is real, then all the rest follows."

"And Yussif? What's his connection?"

"Will you lay off Yussif, please. He came up with the whole idea of El Dakhla. He's the only one who can drive the truck and provide a plausible reason to my father for our going there. Besides, I want him with us." She wiggled to the edge of the sofa and stood up, adamant.

"So. We either do this all together, or not at all."

Valerie rubbed her forehead. "I guess it's all together, then."

* 132 *

v Yussif returned shortly before midnight, his sleeves rolled up, carpenter-like. He brushed grit or sawdust from his palms and announced, "Everything is x and truck is ready. We have plenty of water and long box in the back to put grandfather. Plenty of packing cloth to cover him."

Valerie studied the Arab, but he remained inscrutable. His English was too strained, too unsubtle to reveal him, and his thick beard concealed expression.

"'Grandfather.' I like that." Derek laid a hand on the thick shoulder. "Thank you, Yussif. And whatever this trip costs, in supplies...

anything...I'll take care of it."

"Is nothing." He looked at the oor and then at Auset. "I leave note to your father to say I drive to Luxor for alabaster. We must to bring some back when we return."

"Yussif, you've thought of everything. I'm not much good at this myself," Auset said, dropping pomegranates into a large paper bag.

"I've never smuggled antiquities before."

Valerie looked at the amulet and the ivory scroll box she was wrapping in her shirt. "Smuggling. Yeah. That's what they'll call it, won't they?"

Derek came into the room, carrying the mummy diagonally across his body as if he held a very large baby. "Don't worry, Valerie dear," he soothed. "There are times when you know you're doing the right thing.

Yussif, would you get the door for me? Thanks." He looked back over his shoulder as he went out. "It'll be all right in the end. I'm sure."

"That's the trouble with you, Derek. You believe in salvation,"

Valerie said as the door swung shut. She put on her gun belt, sliding the small pistol around to the back of her hip, under her eld jacket. "I don't."