She remembered another hawk and knew suddenly why she felt such horror. It was the hawk at Sacre Coeur, one of the family that ew daily over the school grounds, that had become lodged one night in the chimney of her dormitory. Lying in her bed, she had heard its desperate uttering. It seemed to come from directly behind the cruci x that hung above the mantle. Shivering below it on the hearth, she prayed to the Virgin to set it free or end its suffering. But still it uttered, hour after hour.

* 169 *

Finally she had ed, sobbing and hysterical in the middle of the night, to the Mother Superior, waking her by pounding on the door, demanding that the creature be freed before the morning re was lit.

But the furious nun had called her insolent and consigned her to the punishment cabinet for the rest of the night. After she was released the next morning and thrashed for her offense, a re burned indifferently in the dormitory hearth. No one would tell her what had happened to the hawk. She was sick with dread for weeks afterward, tormented by visions of the creature being roasted alive.

"Shuf! Akhiran, il bi'r." A man's voice startled her.

The sheikh pointed forward, toward a depression in the land . Of course, Valerie thought. If there's water around, it will be there. And a few hundred meters farther on, she saw it at the center of the dry riverbed, the stone lid of a desert well.

The sheikh dismounted rst and strode to the well hole, where he prostrated himself and recited some brief prayers. In a moment other men joined him, and together they removed the covering of rocks and slid aside the heavy stone well cover. Valerie watched as they retrieved the goatskin sack from within. After examining it, they lowered it down the shaft and drew it back with obvious satisfaction. The well was high and contained enough water for both shepherd and ock. The men drank their ll, seemingly in order of age, for the graybeards went rst and the young men after. Then the women clustered about the well with their children, wetting the small faces as they drank. Finally, a row of camel skins was laid out in a shallow trough, and the ocks were watered.

Derek blew powder from parched lips. "Man, I haven't even got enough saliva to spit out sand."

As if she had heard him, a Bedouin covered from head to toe in black cloth, with only her eyes visible, stepped away from the goats and beckoned the two women toward the well. Auset tapped her camel to kneel and heaved herself from the saddle to join Valerie. Together they walked to where the shepherd stood, a dark apparition on the bright sand. The blackness of her clothing was broken only by a string of gold and silver coins that hung from the left side of her head scarf. Henna-painted hands appeared from under black cloth and offered the dripping goatskin.

"Shukran. " Auset tipped her head back, letting the water pour into her mouth in a long thin stream that caught the sunlight. She passed the skin on to Valerie, who drank less skillfully, splashing water on her * 170 *

chin and shirt. Against the heated air the underground water cooled deliciously.

"May I share the water with the others?" Auset asked, and the veiled Bedouin nodded, re lling the skin from the well before handing it over. "Thank you. I will bring it back in a moment," she said, and lumbered back up the slope to the men.

Valerie waited awkwardly by the well, wondering if conversation was in order. It was dif cult to chat with someone so anonymous.

"How goes your journey?" the Bedouin asked unexpectedly, in the pleasant, soft voice of a mature woman. "The red land is harsh to those who do not know it."

Desheret, she had said. The red land. In Egyptian, not Arabic.

"We thought we had prepared well for our trip, but the desert surprised us. We are grateful for your help."

The woman did not reply, but unhooked the embroidered panel that covered the lower half of her face, and Valerie startled. Once again, eyes looked back at her that were so black they revealed no character, only endless depth.

"Nira!" Valerie's heart leapt. She stepped forward to touch the other woman on the arm.

"My name is Nekhbet," the Bedouin said coolly.

Valerie stepped back again, confused. Could she be mistaken? It had been dark in the necropolis, after all. On both sides of her, goats bleated. "I'm sorry. It's just that-"

As if she had not heard, the woman pointed toward the slope above the wadi. "You should make your camp over there, above the slope. Someone will bring you fuel for your re." Her voice was without warmth, disinterested. And yet she stared unashamedly for a long moment, as if studying a curiosity. Then, bowing her head so that the coins on her veil tinkled, she walked away.

Valerie watched her disappear among the other black-clad women in the camp, and for the rst time in years, she felt like crying.

* 171 *

* 172 *

CHAPTER XXIV:.

THE BARGAIN.

Boy, it gets cold fast out here." Above the Bedouin camp, Derek sat down next to Valerie and Auset, who leaned against the casket of Rekemheb. Shivering, he drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his long arms around them. "Makes me wish I had one of those long robe things."

Together they watched the Bedouin women, silhouetted against the amboyant orange sky, setting up the goat-hair tents. Young boys drove the ocks into a natural pocket in the rocks below them. Toward the west, the men couched their camels, tying up one of the animals'

legs so that they could not rise. At the center of the camp, girls prepared the cooking re, their high voices carrying over to the strangers in the warm sound of lifelong custom.

"These people are so much friendlier than those in that village yesterday," he added. "I wonder why."

"We're not desecrating their shrine, for one thing," Valerie said.

"And the Bedouins have a tradition of hospitality. But we shouldn't push it."

Auset shook sand out of her hair. "What did that woman at the well say to you? Will they invite us down to eat with them?"

Derek cocked his head. "We'll soon nd out. There's someone coming now."

A small gure, with features impossible to make out in the twilight, clambered up the slope and stopped a short distance from the group.

Yussif shone the ashlight on it, and in the light column an adolescent boy with wild hair shaded his eyes with his hand. Yussif turned the harsh beam down to the ground, and in the half-light, the boy carried out his recitation. It was a dialect Valerie could scarcely follow.

* 173 *

Yussif answered the boy and turned to the two foreigners. "His father Sheikh Janazil bin Mahamed invites us to receive from his hand things to carry away for our comfort this night."

"Carry away for our comfort." Valerie chuckled. "Sounds like we aren't invited in for dinner, but only for uh...take-away."

Auset pulled her scarf up against the evening chill. "I kind of expected that. We're carrying a corpse, after all. And the sheikh knows our guy is way past his expiration date."

Derek clutched his blanket around him. "That's ne with me. If we had to socialize, I wouldn't understand a word anyway. How about just you two go and leave Auset and me here. Uh...and the ashlight too, if that's okay."

Yussif spoke again and laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. The child nodded and led the two emissaries down the slope.

As they came into the Bedouin camp, the young men greeted Yussif familiarly. The sense of tribe in the camp was palpable, as each person was engaged in a long-familiar task. Women prepared food or tended the re with infants in slings behind them, while older children carried bundles from tent to tent. None but the youngest babies was idle. In the course of an hour, a sort of village had sprung up.

Valerie glanced around at the clusters of women, searching for the shepherd from the well. It was impossible to distinguish one from another.

The boy stopped suddenly before a tent slightly larger than the others. A camel saddle, sacks of grain, and the hawk's cage were piled up at its front. As the guests arrived, a male gure bent low through the opening and came toward them. "As salaamu'alaykum. "

"Wa 'alaykum as salaam," the guests replied in unison.

Deprived of his camel and its trappings, Janazil bin Mahamed was an unimposing sheikh. The kaftan that had draped so regally around him on his saddle was soiled and shabby. His mottled beard was sparse, and one of his two front teeth was broken in half. His manner was nonetheless authoritative, and he had grown sons-or kinsmen-to lend him presence. But it was obvious that he was poor. They all were poor. Valerie realized she was looking at what was probably the last generation of desert nomads in Egypt.

Janazil bin Mahamed registered the briefest surprise at the presence of the foreign woman and then addressed himself to Yussif. "I regret I cannot serve you coffee. You understand." Both guests nodded politely.

* 174 *

"But no man shall say that the Mahamed are inhospitable."

He snapped his ngers, and two girls who had obviously been watching came from the women's section in the rear of the tent. One handed a goatskin and a pile of pita bread to Valerie without raising her eyes, and the other laid a burlap sack of what appeared to be kindling at Yussif's feet. "Milk from our camels, bread from our re, and fuel for your own. You are our guests, even on your hillside. Is there anything else you are lacking?"

"No, Sayyid. And we thank you for your kindness." Yussif took up the bundle and made the formal courtesies to depart.

Valerie held him by his arm and addressed the sheikh. "The Mahamed are well known for their generosity and for their skill in hunting."

The sheikh's brow wrinkled slightly. He had obviously not heard about the hunting part.

"We are grateful to bene t from it." She gestured toward the cage.

"However, the hawk that your hunters have captured-surely it is an inconvenience. Would it not be more pro table to exchange it for some useful object?"

The Bedouin half closed his eyes. "Exchange? For what sort of object?"

"Well, I would take him. For my wristwatch. Worth as much as the one which bought our camel." She pulled back her sleeve to display the timepiece. The worn leather band, she realized, weakened her argument considerably.

The sheikh raised open hands. "Alas, I already have a watch, as you can see, and not much need to observe the hour. But you have something of value that I do not have." He pointed to the object tucked-discreetly, she had thought-in her belt behind her hip.

She patted the side of her jacket, feeling the rigid form beneath.

"My pistol? Ah, no, that is not possible."

Yussif cleared his throat. "Perhaps something else. Our blankets.

Jewelry. We have other objects of value, I am sure."

Janazil bin Mahamed clasped his hands together behind his back.

"I am afraid I would only consider the pistol."

Valerie looked over at the cage where the captive hawk cocked its head, seeming to attend to every word. It no longer panted, but its small eyes caught the light from the nearby re and glowed like tiny distant suns. Though its wings were tied back, inside the cage, she seemed * 175 *

to hear the sound of desperate uttering. Her stomach tightened. "All right. One thing of value for another."

She unhooked the holster from her belt, avoiding Yussif's eyes, and handed it over. One of the sheikh's men lifted the cage and set it into her hands. It was surprisingly heavy.

The two paid their respects again and walked unguided back through the camp. Valerie shifted the cage to her hip. "Do you think I have done something foolish? Or that I have insulted the sheikh?"

"No, he was not insulted, I am sure. Only surprised. I doubt that he has ever seen a woman with a gun."

"Well, now I am a woman with a bird."

"It suits you better than a gun."

A slight movement caught Valerie's attention, and she turned her head. Yussif continued a few paces before stopping.

A single dark gure stood at the edge of the camp, watching.

A woman, veiled and somber. A string of gold and silver coins hung from the left side of her veil. She stood, immobile. The breeze of the cooling desert blew around her, pressing her black abaya against her, revealing the faint outline of legs and hips. As if she had caught sight of something she should not have seen, Valerie looked away. The two of them continued on their way up the slope, the hawk rocking back and forth within its cage.

v Derek opened the sack and shone the ashlight inside. "Okay, this is kindling, but what are these? Looks like big oatmeal cookies." He pulled out a large crumbly disk, brought it to his nose for a fraction of a second, dropped it again. "Eeewww! That's disgusting!"

"Of course they're disgusting. They're camel chips. Good desert fuel, though. Give it here." Valerie took the sack of twigs and camel dung from him. "I've done this a few times on excavation." She made a pit in the sand and placed a handful of ne straw at the center, covering it with a teepee of the coarser straw. Over it she erected another cone of twigs and surrounded it with walls of camel chips. She clicked open the lid of her Zippo and held the ame under the tiny structure. The straw caught rst, then the twigs, and nally the dung ignited into a satisfying pyre of yellow and blue ames.

"What's this? Dinner?" Auset had discovered the caged bird.

* 176 *

"Nothing of the sort." She opened the cage, and the hawk uttered out with bound wings and tumbled across the ground. "Hold him, Derek, while I untie him."

He grasped the creature gently under its feathery breast.

Miraculously, it did not thrash or bite while Valerie cut the crippling cord. Then it shot forward, tumbled again once over its own outspread wings, and lifted off the ground.

Auset watched it disappear into the night sky. "I bet it would have tasted just like chicken."

Exhaling, as if a great weight had been lifted from her back, Valerie sat down by the re and poked the bluish ames with a piece of kindling. "You'd better not let Rekemheb hear you talk that way. I'm sure he considers the hawk to be a god."

At the mention of his name, the Ka of the priest appeared without speaking and sat down, as always, next to his descendant. The tiny re gave out a hemisphere of light that illuminated Derek's face from below, casting eerie shadows above his cheeks. Rekemheb, insubstantial and with his own luminescence, looked as he did in daylight-waxen and shadowless. Valerie wondered if he could see himself in the mirror or if, like the vampires of legend, he cast no re ection.

Auset shifted restlessly, obviously searching for the position that would accommodate her aching limbs and the protuberance of her passenger. "I wonder how the Bedouin women manage this," she muttered. "I feel like such a cow."

The Ka's face seemed to brighten. "My own wife was two times cow-blessed, with son and daughter."

Valerie laughed. "Listen to you, Rekemheb. Your English is really getting good!"

"I listen even when you do not see me, and I learn much from my grandchild."

Derek seemed pleased. "It's true! We talk all the time now. What else have we got to do out here all day?"

"Cow-blessed?" Auset repeated. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"The cow is Hathor, the mother of Horus, the mother of a god. She is..." He struggled for a word. "...your Ka."

Auset rubbed the small of her back with her free hand. "That's good to know, Rekemheb. Please put in a good word for me with Hathor, when I am in labor."

* 177 *

Yussif, who had been silent, suddenly raised a hand. "Forgive me, but I have walked many miles today and I must sleep." He gathered up his mat and withdrew a few paces from the re where he lay down again, his wide back turned toward the group.

Auset watched him for a moment. "He doesn't want to hear about the gods. I don't think he's ready for all this paganism."

Valerie brushed sand from her mat. "And you are?"