The big man came for me fast, although he would have been wiser to wait for his friends. He raised his club, but Falcata took his arm before he could strike. He was dead before it fell.

Myt-ser'eu screamed and two more rushed out of the tomb. One snatched up the heavy crow but fled each time I came at him. The other circled, trying to get behind me with his knife. He was well to my left when a dark figure slipped from between two tombs and seized him. It froze the one who held the crow for an instant. I caught its shaft with my left hand, and Falcata took him between neck and shoulder.

When I looked at the man on my left, he lay dead in the street, and Uraeus stood over him wiping his mouth. "The neck is the best place," Uraeus said. "It's over soon when you get the neck."

I admitted it was true, although Falcata had severed the big man with the club to the waist and he had fallen like a stone.

A leather bag we found in the open tomb held jewelry-some of it Myt-ser'eu's-and a few other things. I would have restored them to the tombs from which the men we had killed had taken them, but we had no means of knowing which they were and no way of repairing their broken doors. Myt-ser'eu searched the bodies of the dead men, recovering her dagger and finding a little gold as well as much silver and copper.

"I claim it all!" She showed us a double handful of coins.

"In that case," I told her, "you get nothing from our bag."

"You'll give me a few pretty things, won't you, Latro?"

"Not a single bead," I said. "It's Uraeus's and mine, all of it."

"Pah!" She drew herself up and spat. "Yours, you mean. Uraeus is your slave, even if you won't tell us where you got him."

"We slaves sometimes have some silver," Uraeus hissed. He sounded angry.

"Only if your master permits it," Myt-ser'eu told him haughtily, "but I am his river-wife and a free woman."

"A dead woman, the moment my master will have it so."

"He would never kill me. You wouldn't, would you, darling? Or rob me, either. As for this," she held out the money again, "you know I'd give it you if you needed it. I fought, too. I stabbed the big one. And I-they'd have had to pay three shekels for what they got from me."

In the end we decided to divide everything equally, each of us receiving a third. Uraeus found a pleasant inn near the temple of Ap-uat for Myt-ser'eu and me, and a single daric bought two suppers and a good room at the top, where the air is coolest and purest, and returned silver and coppers to us as well. All this time I was itching to speak to Uraeus alone, but there was no chance of it. He gave me the bag that holds this scroll and fetched one of Myt-ser'eu's bags in which she might stow her share of our loot, then returned to the ship to eat and sleep. He will rejoin us in the morning.

Now she is in bed and teases me about writing so long. But I must tell other things before I sleep. The first is that before we divided what we had won the innkeeper came to ask whether we had heard about the bodies in the city of the dead. Of course I said that I had not, and Myt-ser'eu that there must be countless bodies there to be found by anyone.

"Three men who had been killed tonight," the innkeeper said. "Two with sword cuts too deep for any man alive to give-this is what I was told-and one bitten by a cobra. No one seems to know what happened."

"Nobody but me," Myt-ser'eu told him haughtily, "and any other silly girl you'd never listen to. The third man killed the first two, then he was bitten and died himself."

The innkeeper shook his head. "Didn't you hear me? No man could have made those cuts. They say even an ax couldn't have done it. Besides, he had no sword."

A new customer carried over his bowl of beer. "Tell them about the dog. Go ahead. Spoil their supper."

"It was a jackal, not a dog," the innkeeper told us. "It yipped the way jackals do, and when they got there it had pissed on all three of the bodies. What do you think of that?"

She is getting up. I will remember and write in the morning. *These daggers were thus in the shape of an ankh, or Egyptian cross, the hieroglyph for "life"; it presumably meant that the dagger would preserve the life of its owner. A lanyard may have been tied to such daggers so they would not be lost if dropped.

THE NECKLACE, THE ivory ring, and the silver ring are all very attractive. Myt-ser'eu will try to get me to give them to her, I know. She is trying on the necklace now and admiring herself in the mirror she bought. I may trade them to her or sell them to her cheaply, but I will not trade or sell this scarab. It is a beetle of gold and sea-blue enamel, a beetle with gleaming wings. Last night when I breathed on it by chance its wings seemed to move. That cannot be-they are silver, I think. Yet it seemed to me I saw them move. It is like the ankh, a sign of Khepri. He is the eldest god, she says. The rest are his children, men and women his grandchildren many times removed. The ankh is his because he gives life, the scarab because the morning sun is one of his signs. A bright beetle would not suggest sunrise to me, but I am not of Kemet. Myt-ser'eu says letters are sealed with these scarabs to attest to truth within-this is indeed picture writing here on the belly of mine, and a tiny ankh-and scarabs are laid over the hearts of the dead before their bodies are wrapped. In this way a dead woman is assured that the living wish her life and will attend to whatever omens she may send. URAEUS SAYS SCARABS are most sacred and may not be killed, and that I should not toy with mine. I did not toy with it just now-only hold it up to the light. It is very beautiful, the work of a great, great craftsman.

Uraeus joined us at the inn. I bought a black lamb, which he and Myt-ser'eu said I must do, and my men and I drove it to the temple of the wolf-headed god. The priest in the leopard skin was pleased and smiled upon us. I hope the god smiled as well.

The wind has returned, a strong north wind that bends every palm and stirs up dust in the red land. Muslak swears we will make Wast by nightfall, but Azibaal doubts we can sail so far in a single day. QANJU SUMMONED ME. He and Thotmaktef had been working under a sailcloth shade the Crimson Men put up. What they said was important if I am indeed the hero, as they insist. I will write down every word I recall.

"I have neglected you, Lucius," Qanju told me. "We have had no need of your eight, and it appeared to me that you were managing them as well as anyone could. You understand, I'm sure. One attends to the matters that require it, and in doing so one may neglect the matters in which all is well." He smiled as he said these things. He smiles much, the smile of a wise man who adjusts the quarrels of children.

I said that I had not been conscious of his neglect, and that I would have called on him or Thotmaktef if I had required their help.

"Exactly. Now we require yours and call on you. Will you give it?"

Of course I said I would. Myt-ser'eu had told me that the ruler of Kemet had put Qanju in command of everyone on this ship.

Thotmaktef said, "That is well. You forget, I know, but you may not have forgotten this. Has the local god Ap-uat a reason to favor you?"

"Certainly," I said. "I bought a black lamb this morning and offered it for myself and my men, explaining that I was in charge of them and asking that I be given the power of memory others have, and that we might win every fight."

Qanju nodded. "No reason but that?"

I shook my head.

Thotmaktef said, "I have never been to your city, but I have heard that the wolf is honored there."

"No doubt it is," I told him. "The wolf is an animal that should be honored. This Ap-uat is a man with a wolf's head. Pictures of him were shown to us in his temple this morning."