Myt-ser'eu asked, "Who was her protector?"

The sailor only rose and strode away. Myt-ser'eu says he is Azibaal. I asked Myt-ser'eu how she knew the woman had a protector.

"Because they would have forced her, of course. When we're back home in Sais, the priests protect us. That's why you have to go to the temple to get us. You don't remember the money you made Muslak give the priest, do you?"

I admitted I did not.

"I knew you didn't. It was a lot, and we don't get any of it. What you give us afterward is all we get-if you make a present of money to me when we part, or buy me jewels while we're together."

"I don't have much money," I said.

"You will have," Myt-ser'eu told me. THAT WAS EVERYTHING we said then, but I have been thinking about what Azibaal said. There cannot be a third woman on the ship this afternoon. Therefore, she was a woman of the place where we stopped last night. It was very large, so there must have been women there beyond counting. If she came on the ship but would not take money, she must have come to steal. If that is so-and it seems it must be-her protector was another thief. Since she went below, her protector was there stealing. Perhaps he told her to keep the sailors occupied while he stole. I have gone below and looked at everything, but if there is something missing, I do not know what it is.

Besides, Azibaal and the other sailors who stayed on board were there to guard against thieves, and would have seen the man and this woman when they left. Would not many men have taken everything? Would Azibaal and his sailors not have beaten one man or even two or three and driven them off? There is something here that I do not understand. I will stay on the ship myself tonight.

THE BRIGHT MOON we saw has slipped behind the western mountains, leaving the sky filled with innumerable stars; Qanju studies them even now, but I sit where he sat, writing swiftly by the twofold light of his lamps. Much has taken place tonight that I must record.

The village at which we stopped had no inn, only a beer shop. Qanju and Sahuset have tents; I had Aahmes and the other soldiers put them up for them as soon as we landed.

After we had eaten and drunk, I returned to the ship. Myt-ser'eu wished to come with me. I wanted her to stay behind, but she cried. We had drunk beer, and she fell asleep as soon as we sat down. I had persuaded Muslak to let my soldiers guard his ship, some of his men having guarded it the night before; and I had assigned the three from Parsa to do it. Now I questioned them. They had seen no one and heard nothing, so I told them they could go into the village and enjoy themselves. When they had gone, I laid Myt-ser'eu in a more comfortable place (earning a kiss, with sleepy murmurs) and covered her to keep off the insects. I sat up, swatting them from time to time and smearing myself with grease. To tell the truth, I did not expect to see or hear anyone; but I was reasonably sure that the sailor had not told Muslak, and I could not tell him myself without betraying the sailor. Guarding the ship seemed to be the only thing to do.

I had nearly fallen asleep when I heard her step. She emerged from the hold, her gems and gold bracelets gleaming in the clear light of a quarter moon, and walked with graceful, unhurried steps toward the bow.

Rising, I ordered her to stop. She turned her head very far to look back at me, but did not. It was only then that I felt certain she was not Neht-nefret.

I overtook her easily and caught her shoulder. "What are you doing on this ship?"

"I am a passenger," she said.

"I haven't seen you on deck. Were you below all day?"

"Yes."

I waited for her to say more. At last I said, "It must have been very hot and uncomfortable for you down there."

"No." Her voice is low, but quite distinct.

"Now you want to go ashore?"

"Yes." She smiled at me. "I've no quarrel with you, Latro. Stand aside."

By that time I had seen that she was carrying nothing and had no weapon. Also that she was tall, young, and very beautiful. "I can't leave the ship unguarded to take you to the village," I told her, "and if you go alone, you may be attacked."

"I do not fear it."

"That's courageous of you, but I can't let you risk yourself like that. You'll have to stay here with me until someone else comes."

"Someone else is already here," she told me.

As she spoke, I heard the spitting snarl of a cat behind me. I spun about, drawing Falcata.

The cat's eyes blazed brighter far than the moonlight, smoking braziers of cruel green fire. When I took a step toward it, it snarled again, and I saw the gleam of its teeth. I feared, at first, that it might attack Myt-ser'eu-then that it had already, tearing her throat swiftly and silently. I advanced, wishing with all my heart for a torch. It moved to its left. When I moved to counter it, to its right. It was as large as many dogs.

As a bubble bursts in the river, it was gone.

I looked everywhere for it, certain it could not have jumped from the ship without my seeing it. At last it seemed to me that it could only have darted down the hatch and into the hold. There may be men who would have pursued that cat into the pitch darkness of the hold, but I am not such a man. (This I learned only a short time ago.) I replaced the hatch cover and tied it down with the rope that had been coiled beside it.

Only then did I look around for the woman who had come out of the hold. She was already well along the path leading to the village. I called to her, but she did not stop or even turn her head. Perhaps I should have run after her, although Qanju says I was right to stay on the ship. In a moment or two the woman had vanished into the night.

He arrived, and his scribe with him, not long after. "I came to study the stars," he said. "Are they not beautiful? They are best seen when the moon is down."

He lay on his back on the deck so as to see them without craning his neck.

"The moon has not set," I said, wishing to tell him what had happened but not knowing how to begin.

"It will be down soon," he told me, "and I will be ready. Even now, one may learn much."

Thotmaktef had seated himself beside him and spread a scroll like this upon his knee, ready to write as his master directed.

"A woman has gone into the village," I told them.

"A village woman?" Qanju asked.

Recalling the way her jewels had gleamed in the moonlight, I said, "No."

"Not your woman-she would not leave you."

"Myt-ser'eu?" I knew she was mine, but I wanted time to think. "She's asleep in the stern."

"Not the captain's woman. We left her behind us, didn't we, Thotmaktef?"

Thotmaktef nodded. "We did, Most Noble Qanju."

"Another woman?"

"Yes," I said.

"You have forgotten her name."

It was not a question, but I said, "No doubt I have."

"Indeed." Qanju sat up, surprising me. "Tell me everything, Lucius."

I did, speaking worse than I write and using too many words.

"This is an important matter," Qanju said when I had finished. "Will you remember everything in the morning?"

"Perhaps I will." Although I know I forget, I cannot be sure how soon I forget, or how much.

"I did not intend to pain you. You appear sober enough to write. Are you?"

"Certainly," I said.

"Good. You speak our tongue badly, making it difficult to judge. Thotmaktef?"

"Yes," Thotmaktef said.

"You are to come with me, Lucius. There are two fine lamps in my tent. You are to write of this incident in your scroll before you forget it. Include every detail. When you have finished, you may return here, if you choose."

I protested, saying that Muslak would be very angry when he learned that his ship had been left unprotected. This I knew to be true.