The Hour of the Jackal by Nene Adams (page 2)

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Rhiannon had abandoned her costume and reclined beside an equally nude Lina in their nest of cushions, feeding her ripe strawberries dipped in honeyed yogurt. ''So... where's my present?'' Rhiannon asked. 

''Right here, my dear,'' Lina answered, reaching around behind her and pulling aside a fold in the tent. The package that stood there was small, about a foot tall, but when the peer handed it to Rhiannon, the strawberry-blonde gasped at its weight. 

Tentatively shaking the package, which was wrapped in colorful silk scarves, Rhiannon said, ''Yours is in the bedroom with my other clothes. Somehow, I had a feeling we'd be exchanging gifts tonight.'' Her pale blue eyes glowed. 

Lina smiled, plucking a strawberry from the platter. ''Do open yours first, Rhiannon. I want to enjoy the expression on your face without distraction.'' 

Rhiannon unwrapped the scarves one by one, revealing a wooden box. Opening it, she reached inside and pulled out an object that had been swathed in dried grasses. 

She gasped. It was a statue, but... where on earth could she have found it? Rhiannon asked herself. 

The statue consisted of a pair of figures on an ivory base. Both were women; the figures faced one another in an embrace. The first was onyx, carved into a warrior woman dressed in breastplate and greaves, the hilt of her sword jutting over her shoulder. The second woman was smaller, made of gilded bronze, and she held a staff in one hand. Their skillfully rendered faces showed such an expression of love that Rhiannon held her breath. 

''It is Egyptian in origin,'' Lina said, grinning at the astonishment and admiration on Rhiannon's face, ''The hieroglyphics on the base indicate that the statue was crafted around 30 B.C.'' 

Rhiannon ran one finger around the tiny etchings that covered the base of the statue. ''That would have been around the time of Octavian's conquest of Egypt,'' she said. ''What do they say?'' 

''Solange took the liberty of having the writing translated. According to her, they read: 'The Eternally Blessed by Hathor, who aided Isis in her flight when the child of Set came as a vulture to feast on the body of the Kingdom. Infinite blessings await thee.' Do you recognize them, my dear?'' 

''They look like us, a little,'' Rhiannon replied. ''What does the inscription mean?'' 

''I can only imagine. I do not know who 'Isis' is. The 'child of Set' mentioned, with his unholy appetite, most likely refers to Octavian himself.'' 

''Lina... where did you get this?'' 

''Again, Solange. I have had her keeping an ear to the grapevine, so to speak, looking for an appropriate anniversary gift. She told me about the statue and made arrangements for its purchase here in Cairo. Selim was a go-between; I do not know the identity of the seller, nor the statue's provenance. I assume it was rifled from an unknown tomb somewhere - perhaps in Thebes.'' 

''It's beautiful, love. But don't you think it belongs in a museum?'' Rhiannon felt a pang at these words; something about the statue, especially the onyx warrior, made her loathe to part with it. But her sense of fairness made her acknowledge that the artifact was of historic significance and valuable in that sense alone. 

Lina snorted. ''No, I do not,'' she answered. ''My dear, that statue can be of value to no one but ourselves. I freely acknowledge its antiquity; however, since the Cairo Museum is in such a state of chaos and disrepair, and since the British Museum has all the Egyptian artifacts anyone can possibly gape at... well, I thought you might treasure it more than a dusty curator.'' 

Rhiannon nodded, somewhat relieved and willing to put aside her reservations; Lina was right - better the statue remain in the house on Grosvenor Square than molder forgotten in some museum basement. Laying the statue aside, she got up and fetched Lina's present from the pocket of her trouser costume, then sat back down and nibbled a strawberry. 

Lina unwrapped the Eye of Horus pendent that Rhiannon had gotten in Selim's shop (she had also added a delicate gold chain discovered in the souk.) Delighted, peer immediately put the chain over her head and admired the pendent where it rested in the valley of her breasts. 

''My dear!'' she said, ''This is extraordinary!'' Lina leaned over and kissed Rhiannon's lips. ''Thank you, truly, my dear. I will treasure it always.'' 

''I treasure you,'' Rhiannon murmured against Lina's lips, her arms snaking around the other woman's neck. ''Thank you for the statue, love. Shall we keep it in the bedroom or do you think our activities might scandalize these ancient women?'' 

Lina grinned wickedly. ''Considering what their own activities may have been, I sincerely doubt they will raise even a single brow.'' She sighed, running a hand up Rhiannon's bare back, ''However... perhaps with practice, we will be able to cause them to rotate a little in their graves.'' Her lips met Rhiannon's in a deep, loving kiss. 

From his perch on the dune, the watcher flinched. In his painful fascination with the scene before him, he did not hear the soft sussurations of footsteps sliding across the sand towards him. A muffled thud as a hard fist struck him in the back of the head, and the unconscious spy was dragged away. 
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Over the next few days, the steamboat tour stopped at Amarna for the tombs found by Professor Radcliffe Emerson some years earlier, and on the fourth day of their journey, the two women found themselves at a new excavation site at Abydos, led by Doctor James Patterson, an American Egyptologist and archaeologist who was considered an up-and-comer in his field. 

Dr. Patterson was of medium height and slightly plump, the layers of baby fat that rounded his cheeks making him look much younger than his thirty-plus years. He greeted Lady Evangeline and her companion effusively. ''Good morning, ladies!'' he said, rushing forward to shake their hands. ''You have no idea how much I've been anticipating your visit!'' 

Lina raised an eyebrow. ''Pray tell, Dr. Patterson, from whence came your information?,'' she asked in a formal tone. ''And why would you enthuse so over two women who are entirely strangers to your acquaintance?'' 

Patterson flushed, the color blooming on his tanned cheeks. ''I beg your pardon, Lady Evangeline,'' he said, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair. ''It's just that... well, I've been wanting to speak to you about a matter of importance. Your arrival in Cairo was the talk of the fellahin - you know how these fellows gossip - and I, too, have my sources of information. They call you the Sitt Askeri, and your companion is the Ibna'athyr. '' He grinned. ''I have to keep abreast of all the news, you know. Wouldn't want a rival archaeologist to steal a march on me.'' 

''I see.'' Lina tilted back her pith helmet. ''What is the matter you wish to discuss?'' 

Patterson glanced around quickly. ''I would really prefer to have our conversation in private,'' he said in a low voice. ''It is strictly confidential and personal business.'' 

''Lead on!'' Lina said, waving a hand expansively. ''Rhiannon and myself are at your immediate disposal.'' 

Rhiannon nearly dropped her parasol when Patterson blushed again and replied pointedly, ''I'm terribly sorry, Lady Evangeline, but I was hoping to speak to you alone.'' 

Lina glared at the doctor. ''Rhiannon is privy to all my business: personal, private and otherwise. If you wish to speak to me, you will have to do so in her presence.'' She was clearly furious at the implied insult to her beloved wife. 

Rhiannon cleared her throat. ''Lina,'' she said, ''It's all right. You go ahead, I'll be fine. Perhaps Dr. Patterson will let me explore the tomb he has uncovered. I understand there are no artifacts, except for a mummy, and I'd like to make some sketches, if I could, of the inscriptions on the sarcophagus.'' 

Patterson gave Rhiannon a grateful smile. ''Certainly, certainly!'' he said. ''Just follow that trail and please, watch your step! We had a worker fall yesterday from the cliff face because he slipped on some rubble.'' 

Lina drew Rhiannon aside. ''Are you sure, my dear?'' she asked, emerald eyes searching her lover's face. ''Whatever this man's business, I would rather put him off than cause you to feel left out.'' 

Rhiannon patted her arm, enjoying the feel of solid muscle beneath the white shirtwaist Lina wore. ''I'm sure, love. You go ahead; I know you'll tell me all about it later.'' She swung her parasol to one side, shielding them from the stares of casual onlookers. ''I'm willing to make a few concessions, you know. I'm not such a tyrant as all that!'' 

Lina, grateful for the shield, bent her head down and kissed the tip of Rhiannon's nose. ''Thank you, my dear,'' she said, cupping Rhiannon's face and running a thumb across her cheekbone. ''I will tell you everything when we return to the Mirror.'' 

''At any rate,'' Rhiannon replied, snuggling her cheek into Lina's hand, ''I'm positively dying to see that mummy! I'll have some nice pictures to take back to England with me. Maybe, it there's time, I can even sketch some of the murals.'' 

Lina chuckled. ''Very good, my dear. You sketch to your heart's delight; I will join you in a little while to lend encouragement to your artistic efforts.'' Before Rhiannon could move the parasol back over her head, Lina kissed her lightly on the lips and walked away. 

Her mouth still tingling, Rhiannon watched her wife walk back over to Dr. Patterson. In her tan trousers and white shirtwaist, booted and belted and holstered, with a pith helmet tilted on the back of her head, Lina looked the picture of a proper excavationist. 

As Lina and Dr. Patterson began speaking, Rhiannon walked along the trail, headed for the mummy site that had been carved in the cliff face of the valley more than a millennium ago. 

The stone lid was propped against the box-like sarcophagus... The cave was somewhat cooler than the area outside, but the few breezes that blew off the desert were shunted aside by the cave entrance, making the tomb airless and dry. 

The walls were decorated by murals depicting the life of the individual who had been buried there. From Lina's description (gotten from the boat captain), the tomb was that of a priestess of Isis, Asiyya, who had most likely been a contemporary of Kleopatra VII, the infamous Queen who had seduced both Julius Caesar and Marc Antony. 

Rhiannon approached the coffin with a slight feeling of dread. She had seen a few mummies in the museum in Cairo and had been fascinated rather than appalled. But coming here, approaching the long-dead priestess in her burial chamber rather than within the crowded confines of the museum, seemed a much more intimate act. 

She walked closer. Asiyya's body had been wrapped in bandages, stained with dark bitumen, arms crossed over her breast. The wooden mask that would have surmounted her features was merely dust and splinters in the bottom of the coffin. Dr. Patterson was waiting until the mummy could be transported to England before opening her wrappings. Rhiannon looked down, feeling an overwhelming sense of sadness at the pitiful remains. 

Her eye was caught by something. As the sun streamed into the opening of the cave, there was a suggestive glitter just beneath the rim. Leaning forward, Rhiannon could barely make out several rows of tiny hieroglyphics. Taking her notebook out, she began to sketch quickly, squinting as she tried to take in the all important details. As she drew, she realized that these glyphs were different from others she had seen. 

Leaning forward, she balanced on her stomach on the rim of the sarcophagus and sketched furiously, tongue caught between her teeth. In an effort to get even closer, she hitched herself up... and fell face forward onto the mummy with a muffled cry. 

Dust swirled up, choking her, filling her nostrils with the scent of ancient death and decay. Rhiannon flailed her arms, trying to get purchase on the rim to heave herself back up, and one of her hands struck the carved glyphs under the rim. Despite her panicked state, she heard a sharp click that seemed to come from outside the oversized box. 

Finally managing to get herself back upright, Rhiannon blew a lock of strawberry blonde hair out of her face and ruefully sucked a skinned knuckle, her eyes scanning the outside of the coffin. There! Eagerly, she crouched down. The bottom of the sarcophagus had been carved into a series of twisting snakes and now one of the stone cobras protruded more than his fellows. 

Seizing it, she tugged and the snake swung away, revealing a small, thin cavity. Rhiannon removed a hairpin and began digging in the crevice, growing more excited when she realized that there was definitely something in there. After several minutes, Rhiannon was thrilled when a small scrap of papyrus jutted from the opening; she coaxed it along with her hairpin until she could remove it. Rolling it open, she saw the paper was covered in the same script as the coffin inscription. 

Elated, Rhiannon hastily fixed her hair then retrieved her notebook from where it had fallen. Tucking the papyrus into the notebook, she started back down the trail, imagining the look on both the doctor's and her lover's face when she triumphantly gave them what could be a major find. 

Reaching the end of the rock littered trail, Rhiannon looked around, not seeing either Lina or Patterson. After a moment, she realized that the muted roaring she could perceive in the distance was the sound of voices raised in anger... and one of them was Lina's. 

Parasol wavering in one hand, Rhiannon began to run towards the argument, only to skid to a halt when she rounded a corner and took in the scene in front of her. 

Lina was red-faced and belligerently shouting at Patterson, ''I have told you 'no' a thousand times, doctor! My answer was the same both the first and last times, and I fail to see how anyone other than an utter ass can possibly misconstrue my meaning!'' 

Patterson was equally florid. His hands were bunched into fists at his side as he retorted, ''And I have told you, Lady Evangeline, that the smuggling of antiquities is against the law!! If you don't heed my warnings, then I will be forced to introduce the authorities to your illegal activities.'' 

Lina drew a deep breath, nostrils pinched white. ''How dare you threaten me!'' she said loudly. ''The statue is mine! And I defy anyone, including yourself, Dr. Patterson, to deny me my possession! I will not allow you to examine it and I most definitely will not sit quietly by and allow you to make threats! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?,'' she concluded, thrusting her scowling face into Pattern's own. 

The doctor cringed slightly. Lina was an imposing woman and the clothing she wore only emphasized her strength and excellent physical condition. ''I will only repeat what I have said, Lady Evangeline,'' Patterson said, struggling to control his anger, ''If you allow me to examine the statue, I will not report you to the authorities, or otherwise impede your holiday or your return home. I trust I make myself clear on that count?'' 

Swallowing her fury, Lina said coolly, ''You do.'' 

Turning her head, she spied Rhiannon and walked towards her. Taking her lover's arm, Lina said over her shoulder, ''And I trust you will remember what I have said, Dr. Patterson. If you value your life, do not threaten me and mine.'' With that parting shot, Lina marched away, dragging a gaping Rhiannon along with her. 
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Lina refused to say a word as the two women were ferried back over to the docked steamboat. Once in the privacy of their cabin, Lina flung herself on the bed and stared into space, brooding. 

Rhiannon caressed the statue which sat on the table beside their bed, sighed, then got up next to Lina, wriggling close and resting her head on her wife's shoulder. 

''What's wrong, love?'' Rhiannon asked softly. ''What did Dr. Patterson say that upset you so much? Why was he threatening you?'' 

Lina snorted, her hand coming up to rest on Rhiannon's hair. ''The abominable nerve of that jackass!'' she said vehemently. ''Patterson insisted that I turn your statue over to him, my dear. For study, if you can believe that!'' 

Rhiannon was bewildered. ''How did he find out about it?'' 

''I have no idea. Perhaps more of his 'contacts' or some such rot. Damn the man for his impertinence! He actually had the gall to tell me that if I did not give him the statue, he would have me arrested for smuggling!'' 

Now it was Rhiannon's turn to snort. ''Who does he think he is?'' she asked. ''After all, you could easily bribe your way out of the charges.'' 

''Indeed. Oh, I do not believe he is serious, my dear. In fact, I believe Dr. Patterson has far more to fear from the authorities than I do.'' 

''What do you mean?'' 

Lina rolled over to face Rhiannon, putting one arm around her waist. ''What you heard was actually the second conversation the doctor and I had. The first time we spoke, he was quite civil, only asking my permission to examine the statue. When I declined, he thanked me for listening and excused himself. I entertained myself by speaking to some of his native workers - who were more forthcoming. They told me that the Busir - that is Patterson's nickname, meaning very plump, ripe dates...'' 

Lina paused while Rhiannon burst into giggles, then continued, ''I believe the expression refers to his general physiology rather than any specific portion of his anatomy, my dear.'' 

''I'm sorry, Lina. I couldn't help it. Doctor Patterson just looked like the type of fellow the 'professional ladies' in Whitechapel used to call 'all potatoes and no meat.''' 

Lina guffawed, then choked, and Rhiannon had to pound her on the back before she could regain her composure. ''Oh, my dear!'' she said, gasping. ''That is entirely enough! May I finish my story now before I expire from your wit?'' 

Since there was a devilish gleam in Lina's emerald green eyes, Rhiannon said with an air of mock-primness, ''Of course, your ladyship. Pray, continue.'' 

''Thank you.'' Lina kissed Rhiannon lightly. ''Now, where was I? Oh, yes... at any rate, the fellahin I spoke to told me that Patterson is involved with the antiquities smuggling business himself, or at least they believe him to be. One name cropped up in my brief investigation - that of Habib ibn Daoud.'' 

''Moriarty's man?'' Rhiannon sat bolt upright. ''You mean Patterson was working with him?'' 

''I do not know the entirety of the connection as yet, my dear. I only know that the good doctor often had Habib as his guest on the dig. They always spoke privately.'' 

''I see. Lina, I have a question - in light of Patterson's interest in the statue, and knowing about Habib... doesn't this tend to indicate that the Jackal is indeed after the statue?'' 

''Precisely, my dear, although I believe that the attacks upon us were far from incidental. I believe this Jackal still has designs upon our lives, and by eliminating us and retrieving the statue, he kills two birds with a single stone.'' 

Rhiannon shuddered. ''Love, I wish you wouldn't use the word 'kill,''' she said. ''I'm nervous enough as it is. Tell me, why did the doctor become violent?'' 

''After I questioned some of the fellahin, Patterson returned. He was already upset and it was clear to me that he was abandoning his former pose. We exchanged some acrimonious words, the doctor made his threats and I made mine. It is my belief that Patterson is working for someone.'' 

''Why's that?'' Rhiannon lay back down and laid her face against the column of Lina's throat. 

''He excused himself and was gone for some time. When he returned, his entire attitude had changed. It is my belief that Patterson consulted with some person during his absence - most likely his master.'' 

''The Jackal?'' 

''Again, most likely, although the unknown factor cannot be ruled out entirely.'' Lina smiled, continuing, ''And how did your own adventure go, my dear?' 

''Good Lord!'' Rhiannon exclaimed, digging into the pocket of her trousers. ''I completely forgot about it. You two were carrying on and then you dragged me away without so much as a how-do-you-do... ah! Here it is,'' she said, waving her notebook. ''I found something!'' 

Lina sat up as well. ''What is it, my dear?'' 

Rhiannon recounted her story about the strange inscription and the hidden cache in the sarcophagus. Pulling out the scrap of papyrus and brandishing it, she concluded, ''And here it is. I meant to give it to Dr. Patterson but...'' 

''Never mind, my dear,'' Lina said, taking the papyrus from Rhiannon and scanning it. ''Hmph. This is the hieratic script - a type of shorthand - used by ancient scholars. There are not many Egyptologists who specialize in this type of script; the foremost who springs immediately to mind is Walter Emerson, brother of Professor Radcliffe Emerson, but he is in England with his wife, Evelyn. Perhaps Petrie...'' 

''Some of the symbols on the paper match the inscription I found,'' Rhiannon pointed out. 

''True.'' The peer tapped the edge of the papyrus on her teeth a moment. ''I believe I know of someone who can help us, my dear. She is at Amra, which is fairly nearby, and she has forgotten more about hieratic script than many of her fellows have learned.'' 

''Who?'' 

''Doctor Angelica Forbes. You will like her, my dear. She is... somewhat eccentric, but a decent soul nonetheless.'' 

Placing the papyrus carefully on the table and weighing one corner with the base of the statue, Lina gathered Rhiannon back into her arms. ''We'll go see Doctor Forbes for tea. At this moment, my beautiful beloved... I would much rather visit you.'' 

They kissed, the sunlight streaming in through the open shutters of the window making dappled patterns on their skins.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Doctor Angelica Forbes proved to be a squat, rough-skinned woman with spiky hair of a peculiar rusty orange sprinkled with gray, and light brown eyes. ''Evie!'' she yelled upon spotting Lina, ''You've come to visit me at last!'' 

She threw her arms around Lina and actually picked the taller woman off her feet, spinning around in a circle, bellowing with laughter. Rhiannon watched this display with a slight feeling of jealousy. It was clear that Lina and Dr. Forbes were old friends... and possibly more. 

A laughing Lina pounded her enthusiastic friend on the back. ''Leave go, you heathen!'' she howled. ''You're making my wife jealous!'' 

''Wife?'' Dr. Forbes put Lina down and pretended to glance around. ''Who on earth would marry you, you insufferable prig!'' 

Lina, still chuckling, led Forbes over to Rhiannon. ''Allow me the extreme pleasure of introducing my wife, Rhiannon Moore. Rhiannon, my dear, this is Doctor Angelica Peyton Forbes, also known as Prickles for the way she made her students squirm with her gimlet eye and sharp tongue at school.'' 

Forbes beamed and stuck out a hand. ''My pleasure, Miss Moore,'' she said. Turning back to Lina, she demanded, ''Now, why are you bothering me, Evie? I'm a busy woman, you know.'' The gleam in her eyes belied the sharpness of her statement. 

''Prickles, I need some hieratic script translated,'' Lina said. ''I knew you were the only one I could count on to do a proper job.'' 

Forbes flashed her a grin. ''Well now, that's a pretty way of putting it!'' she replied. ''All right, Evie, where is it?'' 

Rhiannon handed the doctor the papyrus and her notes. Before leaving the boat, she had copied the script from the base of the statue at Lina's suggestion, ''Just in case.'' 

Forbes took the papyrus and unfolded it carefully, squinting. ''Hmmm... yes, looks genuine to me,'' she said thoughtfully, all trace of her former humor gone, swallowed up by scholarly concerns. ''Come along, ladies,'' she continued, still staring down with a small frown. ''We'll repair to my tent. Some of this symbology is a bit obscure; I'll need to consult my references.'' 

Lina waited until the doctor had moved away a bit, then took Rhiannon's hand. ''My dear, Prickles is one of the foremost scholars in Egyptian history and one of the most stubborn women I know. Once she gets her teeth into a problem, she is a veritable bulldog.'' 

''Lina... was she just your teacher?'' Rhiannon hadn't meant to ask the burning question, but somehow, it just blurted out when she opened her mouth. 

Lina guffawed, then raised Rhiannon's hand to her lips, kissing it softly. ''You really must stop persisting in believing every woman of my acquaintance is a former lover. I have not had all that many, you know. Angelica Prickles is a friend and a former teacher, nothing else.'' 

''Oh.'' Rhiannon blushed. ''I'm sorry, I just...'' 

Doctor Forbes voice floated over the desert, deep and bellicose. ''WILL you two stop all that billing and cooing and come along? Really, it's getting quite sickening. Take pity on a poor old spinster and cease this public display of affection... or at least invite me to join you!!'' 

Lina and Rhiannon looked at one another... flushed... then giggled. 

Forbes stared down at the papyrus then glanced at the large open book near her elbow, running a finger down a column. Muttering to herself, she made another note on a sheet of paper. 

Rhiannon sat on a large black trunk, looking around the inside of the tent. It was certainly different from the luxuriously romantic tent she and Lina had shared before. Small, crowded with trunks, boxes, crates and more. A small narrow cot was sheathed in mosquito netting and Rhiannon did not really want to know how Doctor Forbes managed her personal ablutions in such a crude setting. 

Lina was assisting the doctor, fetching books and notebooks from various places, making tea and generally fussing in an atypical manner that Rhiannon found disquieting, despite her lover's assurances that there was no romantic connection between herself and the Egyptologist. 

At last, Forbes sighed and rubbed her hand through her spiky orange hair. ''Well, it's one of the most extraordinary stories I've seen,'' she said, ''and if it had come from anyone but you, Evie, I'd think I was being made the butt of some joke.'' 

Rhiannon sat up straighter and Lina sat down next to her, taking her hand absently. 

Forbes noticed the gesture and smiled. ''The translation of the statue base is, 'The eternal lovers, blessed by Hathor, who aided the Queen when she fled from the Roman jackal who tore at the body of Egypt in her death throes.''' She stopped and looked with consternation at the expression on Lina's face. ''Whatever is the matter, Evie?'' 

Lina replied, ''The translation I received was somewhat different. 'The Eternally Blessed by Hathor, who aided Isis in her flight when the Child of Set came as a vulture to feast upon the body of the Kingdom.''' 

''Who did that translation?'' Forbes asked angrily. ''Some first year archaeology student? I assure you, Evie, my translation is the more correct.'' 

''Could you have missed something?,'' Lina asked. ''The inscription is faded.'' 

''I'll have you know, Evie, I was translating papyri when you were still getting beaten up by third form bullies in school!'' the doctor retorted. 

While the two women wrangled, Rhiannon had been thinking. ''Wait!'' she exclaimed, blushing when Forbes and Lina turned to her with surprise. ''I think I know what it means.'' 

Forbes gave Rhiannon a shockingly sweet smile. ''Indeed?'' she said indulgently. ''Do go on, Miss Moore.'' 

Lina flashed Forbes a glare but the doctor merely shrugged and batted her eyelashes innocently. Rhiannon did not notice. ''Lina, who did the translation the first time?'' 

The peer thought about it and finally shrugged. ''Solange obtained it from somewhere. It never occurred to me to ask where or from whom.'' 

''Can we send a message to the hotel?'' Rhiannon asked. 

Lina and Forbes exchanged a look. ''Well...,'' Lina said, ''I can certainly telegraph her, the Mirror of Hathor has such facilities, but my dear - why?'' 

''Because I believe we were deliberately misled,'' Rhiannon replied. ''Doctor Forbes translation is much more straightforward than the first. I have no idea who the eternal lovers are, maybe Amazons, I don't know - the women depicted in the statue certainly seem warlike! But the Queen must be Kleopatra VII, because the Roman can be none other than Gaius Octavian Caesar.'' 

Lina considered this. ''Upon reflection,'' she said, ''I believe you are correct. Somehow, those women did something for the unfortunate Kleopatra... something about aiding her flight? But according to history, Kleopatra committed suicide. Her eldest son was murdered by Octavian and her two younger children by Julius Caesar disappeared, it being generally believed that they were slain in secret on Octavian's orders.'' 

Forbes spoke up. ''Perhaps the translation of the priestess' tomb, as well as the papyrus, will shed some light. If you will allow me to get on with the job you begged me to perform?'' 

Lina waved a hand. ''By all means, Prickles. I apologize for disturbing your train of thought.'' 

Forbes cleared her throat. ''The symbols in the sarcophagus are in hieratic script, all right, but the message is obscure. Translated, they read, 'Let the one who comes seeking knowledge be rewarded by death.' Not your typical 'whosoever disturbs my tomb' curse, as you can see. I can only believe it must have some bearing on the matter at hand.'' 

''And the papyrus?'' Rhiannon asked. 

''Tells a strange story indeed...'' Forbes' pale brown eyes met Rhiannon's, and the strawberry-blonde could only grip her lover's strong hand as the doctor recited her amazing tale. 
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ALEXANDRIA, EGYPT
30 B.C.

"You must go, my friends. He will be coming soon; my soldiers cannot fend him off much longer.'' The woman speaking was beautiful, with creamy skin, dark liquid eyes, and her hair was covered by a luxurious wig of braids decorated with gold-and-lapis beads. 

''I won't leave you,'' the woman warrior said. ''What about your children? What will happen to them?'' 

The Egyptian woman cast her eyes downward. Like all of the nobility, her eyes had been outlined in an elongated swirl of kohl, and crushed malachite made the lids shimmer with green fire. ''I can do nothing for my children,'' she said sadly. ''Marc Antony is dead and even now Octavian roars in triumph. I will not be taken to Rome in chains! Nor will my little ones; my guards will see to that.'' 

Her face bore a look of stubborn determination and she raised flashing eyes. ''They will not have my body, either! The Queen of Egypt will not be paraded before the Roman mob to be mocked and defiled!'' 

A third woman stepped forward, her voice musical and soft. ''What if there's a better way?'' the smaller warrior asked. ''Will you at least consider an alternative?'' 

Asiyyah, faithful handmaiden and priestess of Isis, knelt at her Queen's feet to add her own pleas. ''Please, your Majesty, listen to them! They are strangers but do they not have the blessing of Hathor and are favored by Isis Herself? Heed what they say, I beg you!'' 

The Queen's hand stole out and caressed Asiyyah's hair. ''My faithful one,'' she murmured. ''My fate is already at hand,'' she said with a gesture to a covered basket sitting on a table. ''The asp is within; a single  bite and I will sleep for eternity. Your final service to me will be to take my body to the Place of Anubis to be prepared by His Servants and to see to its placement in the royal tomb.'' 

Asiyyah wept and the warrior grasped the Queen's arm. ''Your Majesty, this doesn't have to be! Let us help you escape! We can sneak past the Romans, get you and your children to safety...'' 

The Queen shook her head and pulled her arm from the warrior's grip. ''No, my friends,'' she said with a sad smile. ''Escape, and for what? To spend the remainder of my years in exile, waiting for the knock of some bounty hunter at my door? I would rather die with my pride intact, knowing that with me, the line of the Ptolemies ends.'' 

Scrubbing at the tears on her face, Asiyyah bent her head down and kissed the Queen's sandal. Then  she slowly rose and with an air of utter tranquillity, kissed the Queen on the lips. 

The Queen's hand rose to cup Asiyyah's cheek. While they kissed, the smaller woman went to her warrior and took her strong hand, squeezing it gently. 

Asiyyah released her Queen and walked to the table, pouring a glass of wine while the strangers offered suggestions to the stoic Queen. Seeing that she was unobserved, her small hand stole to the lid of the reed basket, and pushed it aside. 

A small moan cut through the conversation like a spear thrust. All three women spun around... and beheld Asiyyah, trembling, holding the small asp to her throat. Before they could move, or shout, or even draw a breath, the handmaiden collapsed to the floor. 

Drawing her sword, the warrior flicked the deadly serpent away from Asiyyah, dashing it against a wall and killing it instantly. Then she knelt down beside the dying woman and examined the tiny wound on her neck. Raising her eyes, the warrior said regretfully, ''There's nothing I can do.'' 

The Queen sank to her knees, clasping Asiyyah's hand. Tears welled up from her great dark eyes, overflowing, causing lines of kohl to streak her cheeks. ''Oh, my faithful one!'' the Queen moaned. ''Why have you done this thing?'' 

Asiyyah struggled to draw breath. The serpent's poison ran through her veins like liquid fire but she knew she must do her beloved Queen this final service. ''Take... my body... The Romans will... not know... I die in... your place, my... beloved. Your children... must live... you... must live... go...please...'' 

The Queen held Asiyyah's hand to her cheek, crying. ''If you die, my heart dies with you!'' she sobbed. ''But I cannot be a subject of Rome!'' 

Asiyyah looked up at her Queen, her eyes beginning to glaze as the poison reached her heart. ''Go... be... a subject... only of yourself.... promise me...'' 

''Yes,'' the Queen whispered, ''Yes, Asiyyah. I will do as you ask. I would die for pride but I will live for you.'' 

Asiyyah smiled, a smile of such heart-stopping tenderness that even the warrior stifled a sob. Then, with a sigh, she died. 

The Queen wept quietly a few minutes more as the warrior and her companion stood aside to allow her time to grieve privately. Slowly, stiffly, like a woman far older than her years, she rose and faced them, the two strangers who had come to aid the Egyptian in her time of need, according to the dictates of a centuries-long secret treaty between the two nations. 

The Queen's face was streaked by kohl and malachite, but the dignity of her bearing and the suffering in her eyes made the clownishly smeared cosmetics seem like some regal mask. ''What must I do?'' she asked. ''Where will you take us?'' 

The smaller woman asked gently, ''Then you'll let us help you escape? You and your children?'' 

''Yes.'' The Queen removed her wig and cast it aside. Her own hair was like fine black silk, now matted with sweat. ''Asiyyah was more than a servant to me. I used Caesar to save my kingdom; I loved Antony with my heart; but Asiyyah is the keeper of my soul. She sacrificed herself to allow me and my children a chance at life; I cannot allow that sacrifice to be in vain.'' 

Clapping her hands, she summoned servants, who looked appalled at the dead handmaiden. ''Fetch the priests of Anubis,'' she commanded, ''then bring me my children. Warrior, instruct these in what I must bring with me for our journey. We leave within the hour, and there are preparations I must make...'' 

As the servants scurried to obey their Queen's commands, the smaller woman drew the Queen aside. ''Your Majesty, I don't understand. If you loved Asiyyah so much...'' 

''Then why do I not mourn for her now?'' The Queen's eyes sought the stranger's. ''I am a queen,'' she said gently, ''and my duty was to my country and to my house. Now, it is to myself and my children. I will mourn my beloved Asiyyah later, when there is time and I can be only a woman. But for now, I am still a queen and I must hold my tears in my heart.'' 

The warrior woman from distant Amazonia nodded in understanding. 

The chief priest of Anubis was the only one who was given the complete details of their desperate escape plan... and private instructions from his Queen, which he followed faithfully -  along with his own personal agenda, which he enacted with casual brutality as soon as the Queen was gone, safeguarding her for eternity and accepting the shame of his deeds on his own soul. 

And the deed was done. 
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

AMRA, EGYPT
August 1889

Rhiannon stared. ''But if Asiyyah was buried as Kleopatra, then whose body is in that tomb?'' 

''I suspect it is the body of some other woman, Miss Moore,'' Forbes replied. ''And I further suspect that the tomb was put there for a reason other than a final resting place.'' 

''I believe you are right,'' Lina said, rubbing her nose. ''So, Kleopatra and her children escaped from Alexandria, and went - where?'' 

''Deponent sayeth not,'' Forbes said dryly. ''These Amazons mentioned... do you know their identity?'' 

Lina and Rhiannon looked at one another. ''No,'' Rhiannon answered. ''I thought serious scholars didn't believe in Amazons.'' 

Forbes glared. ''For your information, ladies, I have been seeking proof of the Amazon legend for years. You can't prove a negative, after all. And some of the evidence I've uncovered goes rather against the grain of modern belief.'' 

Lina sighed. ''Very well, Prickles. Enlighten us.'' 

"Not much to tell, actually. During an excavation in Greece by one of my colleagues, some rather provocative bits of pottery turned up. Depicted on the fragments were women warriors bearing spears, wearing armor and generally wrecking havoc on their Spartan enemies. Although that idiot who found them decided they were mythological, I've since done my own examination. I believe that a race of Amazons did exist; furthermore, I believe they were not only warriors but scholars, traders and visitors to distant lands. If, in fact, they influenced this particular segment of Egyptian history, then whatever secret this statue conceals may very well turn accepted knowledge on its head.'' 

Rhiannon's brows drew together. ''And that's why you're excavating in Egypt? Looking for Amazons?'' 

''Yes, and it appears I may have found them, albeit accidentally.'' 

A thought struck her and Rhiannon had to ask, ''The Chief Priest's instructions - what do you suppose they were?'' 

Forbes sighed. ''My children, much of history is neither kind nor compassionate. If I were to guess, based on my knowledge of the times, I would say that Kleopatra instructed the Priest to bury Asiyyah as if the unfortunate handmaiden were herself. As far as the Priest's own agenda... well, does not history tell us that Kleopatra's eldest son was slain and her two youngest children disappeared after being captured by Octavian?'' 

For a moment, Rhiannon was nonplussed and stared at the archaeologist. Then her puzzled expression changed to one of profound sadness. ''Oh,'' she breathed. 

''Precisely, my dear,'' Lina said, patting her wife's hand. ''The Priest must have found substitute children to take the place of his Queen's own. Consider: had Octavian not been presented with children he believed to be Kleopatra's, what would he have done?'' 

Forbes answered. ''Turned all of Egypt upside down in his search. He would have had the Queen's body or so he obviously thought. But her children - they had to be eliminated lest they form a focus for Egyptian rebellion against Rome.'' 

''But children?!'' Rhiannon seemed about to cry. 

''My dear, the times were far more brutal than they are today. They were most likely the children of slaves, considered hardly better than animals and certainly of little or no value. The Priest did what he thought was necessary to preserve his Queen's life. Although I am sure that you or I' would have strongly objected to his plan, Kleopatra would not. Whether she actually knew... again, as Prickles so succinctly put it, deponent sayeth not.'' Lina squeezed Rhiannon's hand gently. 

Rhiannon sniffled back her tears. ''I can't help but feel sad. It was a terrible thing to do.'' 

''I agree, my dear.'' Lina put an arm around her wife's shoulders. ''However, political necessity often outweighs common decency.'' 

Forbes cleared her throat. ''There is one other thing on the papyrus, Evie. Something important.'' 

''Yes?'' Both pairs of eyes, emerald and pale blue, stared at the archaeologist. 

''Directions.'' 

For a moment, there was stunned silence. ''Did you say directions, Prickles?'' Lina asked, her mouth suddenly dry. 

''Yes.'' Forbes took a sip of cold tea, grimacing. ''Listen to this: 'A reward awaits the faithful, in death but not in life. Seek the paired, the lover's souls, for it is they who hold the key to riches.''' She stopped and waited. 

Lina frowned in thought. ''My dear,'' she said absently, ''Did you have time to make any sketches of the murals in the tomb?'' 

Rhiannon shook her head. ''No and it's a pity, too. There was a very nice one on the back wall; it looked hardly touched, the colors were so clear. There was a sun, and a boat, some animals and things - and a queer looking figure, a man with the head of a jackal holding a spear.'' 

Lina and Forbes looked at one another, then slowly, looked back at Rhiannon, who blushed. ''What?'' the strawberry blonde asked. ''What did I say?'' 

With a whoop, Lina kissed the astonished Rhiannon's forehead vigorously. ''Anubis! Guardian of the gateway of the dead! Oh, my dearest darling, you have done it!'' 

Forbes grinned widely. ''Evie... are you thinking what I'm thinking?'' 

Lina nodded and Rhiannon exclaimed, exasperated, ''Well, I wish someone would explain it to me!'' 

Chuckling, Lina said, ''The tomb, Rhiannon. There is a treasure in the tomb!'' 

Rhiannon sighed and masterfully refrained from jabbing an elbow into Lina's ribs. ''I still don't understand.'' 

''Allow me.'' Forbes stood up and began to pace, her hands clasped behind her back. ''Many of the tombs built for Egyptian royalty contained a maze of passageways, traps, secret rooms and the like, all built for the purpose of confusing thieves. The papyrus was discovered in a secret niche in a sarcophagus which does not contain the body of Asiyyah, correct?'' 

Rhiannon nodded and Forbes continued, ''Then it seems likely to me that behind that back wall, behind the mural of Anubis, lies a secret room... and one which contains a treasure of some sort. Your statue is the key, Miss Moore. Remember the translation?'' 

Slowly, Rhiannon repeated, '''A reward awaits the faithful, in death but not in life. Seek the paired, the lover's souls, for it is they who hold the key to riches.' The 'death not in life' part refers to the mural of Anubis. And the 'lovers' must be the statue! Oh, Lina,'' she said, turning to the grinning peer, ''this is wonderful!'' 

''Indeed.'' Forbes began unbuttoning her shirt. ''I shall accompany you, I think. Patterson had surely heard of my reputation; he won't deny me visitation rights. Let me change into something a bit cleaner, children, then we'll go pay a call on the good doctor.'' 

As Forbes stripped, Rhiannon noted the scars on the other woman's sunbrowned hide. She frowned again, wondering just exactly how Doctor Forbes had gotten so tanned in places where decent clothing should cover. 

Forbes noticed Rhiannon's look and smiled, tossing her shirt into a corner. Around her neck, she wore a small silver amulet on a chain; the stylized bow and arrow bounced between her small, firm breasts. The doctor was thick waisted but powerfully built; muscles rolled in her shoulders as she dug through a clothes chest. ''I often remove my shirt while digging, Miss Moore,'' she said. ''If the men can be comfortable, I see no reason why I should not avail my own self of the opportunity.'' 

As the archaeologist began splashing water on her face and neck from a basin in a corner of the tent, Lina leaned over and spoke softly into Rhiannon's ear. ''The Egyptians call her the Sitt Alim, which means lady scholar. But they also believe her to be a mighty sorceress who enjoys the protection of Isis. Truly, Prickles need have no fear of her men, who would most likely cut off their own arms before touching her with impropriety.'' 

Forbes walked back over, shrugging into a clean white shirt. ''Yes, and I have a gun and a knife and know quite well how to use both. Not to mention my trusty bullwhip; just the thing for beating off ill-intentioned wooers.'' At Lina's astonished glance, she smiled. ''I have excellent hearing, too.'' 

Rhiannon giggled. ''Do you have many wooers?'' she asked impudently. Despite her earlier misgivings, Rhiannon was beginning to like the crusty archaeologist. 

Forbes winked and ran both hands through her short damp hair. ''None as beautiful as you, my dear Miss Moore,'' she answered, then said to Lina, ''If I should ever hear of you mistreating this delightful creature, Evie, I shall be quite cross and beat you with my bullwhip before snatching her away entirely.'' 

''You need have no fear of that, Prickles,'' Lina replied, bestowing a fond kiss on Rhiannon's forehead. ''I love Rhiannon far too much to allow her to be brutalized by an old bag of bones such as yourself.'' 

Forbes led the way out of the tent as she continued to argue, ''Old bag of bones, am I? Why, I'll have you know, you insufferable prig, that when I was your age I cut quite the swathe among the debutantes in London.'' 

''Most likely the aged chaperones, Prickles. I've heard the stories.'' 

Rhiannon giggled again, and followed the two women out into the desert.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

They arrived at Abydos just after dusk. Torches had been lit; the reflection of their flames wavered on the water as the small boat Lina had hired bumped against the dock. The three women climbed out of the boat and watched as it was rapidly oared away by a pair of swarthy teenagers. 

The dig site seemed eerily quiet; not a sound save for the rustling of tent flaps and the subdued murmur of the wind whispering across the sands. The camp was apparently deserted; there was no sign of the doctor or his employees. 

''I wonder where the devil Doctor Patterson is?'' Lina asked; her voice, though soft, was shockingly loud against the silence. 

Forbes peered around. ''I don't see his men, either. And it is the wrong time of the week for religious observances.'' She dug into a trouser pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. ''Only a bit before six o'clock. Perhaps Patterson is sitting down to tiffin or some such. One tends to forget the social niceties implied by a late supper when one is dwelling in desert country.'' She stuffed the watch back into her pocket. 

Rhiannon hefted the small carpetbag she had brought. Before coming to the campsite, they had stopped briefly at the Mirror of Hathor to pick up the statue. ''Do we want to look for the doctor, or do we go straight to the tomb? I think I remember the way.'' 

Lina and Forbes silently consulted one another, then Lina said decisively, ''Let us go on to the tomb. If the doctor is, as I suspect, not fighting on the side of the angels, it is best that our presence be concealed as long as possible.'' 

As the three women marched to the rocky trail, Forbes said thoughtfully, ''You know, it's been a few years, but I recall this fellow archaeologist, Henry Jones. Came out here a while back; seemed to think he had a line on the Holy Grail, if you can believe that.'' She sighed. ''Sometimes I wonder about the connection between genius and insanity.'' 

Rhiannon shook her head and Lina answered, ''Indeed?'' 

Forbes laughed softly. ''As a matter of fact, this entire situation reminds me of the time when Jones was attempting to break into this burial site. Seems the young man was convinced he'd find a Templar Knight, poor thing, and the need for stealth was absolute, but unfortunately, he had consumed a great tin of beans for supper that evening...'' 

As Forbes entertained them with her story, she helped Lina guide Rhiannon up the steep treacherous slope that led to the tomb. Finally, they reached the end of the trail and stood a moment, listening intently. 

The tomb was dark and quiet, the entrance an inky hole in the cliff side, seeming to Rhiannon like a toothless mouth yawning in an eyeless face. Forbes lit the torch she carried in one hand, and led the way inside. 

The flickering torchlight caused eerie shadows to dance along the walls, making the murals and their animal and human figures seem somehow more sinister, vaguely disquieting and threatening. The sarcophagus was exactly as Rhiannon had seen it last, the lid propped up against one side. 

Forbes looked down into the stone coffin and her face became grim. ''Was it like this before?'' she asked Rhiannon. 

The strawberry blonde stood on tiptoe and leaned over the edge. Then she gasped. ''No! It wasn't. What could have happened?'' 

Lina joined them. ''It appears as if the unfortunate mummy has been eviscerated,'' she said. ''I realize it is normal procedure to attempt an unwrapping but...'' 

Forbes sighed. ''But all attempts are usually made to preserve the wrappings, etc. This looks as if it were done by a common butcher. I wonder, could the Gurneh thieves have been here already? Patterson doesn't seem to have set any kind of guard.'' 

''The Gurneh-wa's would have carted the mummy away entirely to work on it at their leisure. And they would have at least taken some of the murals as well. No, those hereditary thieves have not had a hand in this work,'' Lina answered. ''But you are correct; this was an amateurish job done by someone in a great hurry, who was apparently looking for something.'' 

Rhiannon had wandered away, sickened by the sight of the violated mummy. She was examining a mural when a stone turned beneath her foot and she nearly fell. ''Oof!'' she exclaimed, catching herself against the wall. 

Instantly, Lina and Forbes were at her side. ''Are you quite all right, my dear?'' Lina asked anxiously. 

''Yes, I'm fine,'' Rhiannon answered, slightly exasperated, ''I just stepped on a rock or something. That's all.'' 

Forbes squatted down, holding the torch low enough to cast its light on the floor. With an air of triumph, she snatched something up and held it out to Lina. ''It isn't a stone at all. Take a look at this, Evie.'' 

The peer frowned. ''Another of those cursed jackal amulets! Well, my suppositions as regards Patterson were, alas, all too correct.'' 

Forbes rose. ''Perhaps now is a good time to tell me everything you've gotten yourself into, Evie.'' She stuck the torch upright in a pile of loose rocks in one corner and crossed her arms across her chest. ''Everything. Now.'' 

Lina sighed and rolled her eyes. ''But Prickles...'' 

''Don't 'but Prickles' me, young lady! Let's have it. I deserve to know and by God! I can wait here all night if necessary.'' Forbes glared up at Lina, who acquiesced with an apologetic smile to Rhiannon. 

''It began a few days ago in Cairo,'' Lina began, hastily explaining the assassination attempts, the mysterious criminal known only as the Jackal, and both her own and Sherlock Holmes' deductions. Forbes nodded calmly as the whole story was laid before her. 

When Lina finished, the archaeologist rubbed one hand through her spiky rust-orange hair. ''I've heard of this Jackal as well, Evie. But I believe Mr. Holmes to be wrong; the Jackal is a woman.'' 

''A woman?'' Lina exclaimed. ''Surely you must be mistaken!'' 

Forbes shook her head. ''I may be a scholar, my child, but I don't spend all my time hunting tombs. And I enjoy a close relationship with my men, who tell me everything they hear. This Jackal has been a large part of the smuggling underworld in Egypt for a few years; whoever it is, she is very good at what she does. No one to my knowledge has ever seen her, but according to rumor, she's European, frightfully cunning, and as deadly as a cobra.'' 

Rhiannon snorted. ''Well, we already know about her cunning and her deadliness,'' she said. ''What we don't know is, why us? She started trying to kill us practically our first day in Egypt, before Lina even obtained the statue.'' 

Forbes shrugged. ''Perhaps we'll find out; then again, perhaps not. History is full of mysteries, you know. Now, let me see this statue, if you please.'' 

Rhiannon handed the carpetbag to Forbes, who removed the statue and sat cross-legged on the floor, examining it closely. After a few minutes, Lina motioned her lover away. 

''She will be oblivious for a little while, my dear. Let us see if we can find another torch somewhere about the place; we shall require more light for the next stage of our investigation.'' The peer smiled down at Rhiannon, who returned the good-natured grin. 

They hunted through the debris until they found a ground-out torch and lit it from Forbes'. Then, the pair held hands while they examined the mural on the back wall... time ticked away slowly but inexorably, and the moon rose over the desert landscape, flooding the land with silver fire. 
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Forbes had joined Rhiannon and Lina in their minute examination of the Anubis mural. Finally, the archaeologist scratched her head and said, ''Step away for a moment, ladies. I'm going to attempt something.'' 

The two women watched as Forbes ran one hand across the painted god, and gasped as a previously hidden spear sprang out of the wall, coming frighteningly close to skewering the archaeologist. She waved one hand at their exclamations. ''I'm quite all right, it missed me entirely, and I was expecting something of the sort. Now, let me see...'' 

Grasping the handle of the spear, Forbes tugged... then let go of the haft after a moment. Spitting on both hands, she took a firmer grip and began to pull in earnest, the shoulder seams of her shirt straining as the powerful woman exerted all the strength she could. Lina joined her, both of them grunting with effort. 

Slowly, sand trickling down into the straining women's faces, a muted grinding filled the tomb as a section of the wall began to swing away. Lina and Forbes redoubled their efforts and in a few minutes, a dark gap in the wall had appeared, just big enough to accomodate a single person. 

Wiping the perspiration from her red face, Forbes took a torch. ''I will go first,'' she announced, waiting patiently until Lina ran out of breath to argue. ''I have far more experience in this sort of thing, Evie. There may be other traps beyond the wall and I'm sure Miss Moore would hardly forgive me if anything happened to you.'' 

Grumbling, Lina nodded her reluctant consent and Rhiannon let out the breath she had been holding. The smaller woman had been prepared to hold her lover back by main force if necessary; although she certainly didn't want anything to happen to Angelica Forbes, she also knew it was best to let a professional take charge. 

While Lina has many talents, Rhiannon thought, defusing five thousand year old traps isn't one of them.

Forbes cautiously entered the dark space, holding the torch out in front of her. 

While Rhiannon retrieved the statue, she could hear the archaeologist's voice floating hollowly from the hole. ''There are stairs here, rock cut no less.'' She sounded excited. ''That means man-made! I'm going down; you two stay up there until I get back.'' 

''Keep talking!'' Lina said loudly, leaning into the passage. ''If I don't hear something from you, Prickles, I'm coming down myself.'' 

Forbes' amused chuckle sounded far away. ''I'm fine... the stairs go straight down and are in excellent condition. However...'' 

Lina waited a moment before calling out, ''However what? Prickles? What is going on?'' 

There was silence, then a loud, ''DAMNATION!'' and nothing else. 

''Prickles?'' Lina shouted as Rhiannon hurried to her side, the statue cradled in her arms. ''Angelica? Are you all right?'' 

''What happened?'' Rhiannon asked. 

''I do not know, my dear,'' Lina replied, brow creased with worry. ''Prickles! Answer me!'' They waited breathlessly but there was no reply. 

Lina looked down at Rhiannon. ''I am going down. She may be injured; surely if she were able to speak, she would have reassured us by now. I hate to leave you in the dark, my dear, but I simply must have that torch.'' 

Rhiannon narrowed her eyes. ''I'm going with you,'' she said stubbornly. ''And don't argue with me, love! Where you go, I go.'' 

Lina opened her mouth, then shut it again. ''Very well,'' she said, ''But stay behind me. Any dangers we may encounter will most likely come from the front...'' 

Rhiannon started to object, but was silenced by Lina's insistent, ''Listen to me! Do this for my own peace of mind, my dear! I simply cannot concentrate on the task at hand if I am in fear of your life, and would you have me fail poor Prickles because I was distracted by my wife's obstinacy?'' 

Part of Rhiannon wanted to object most strongly but she held her tongue. It was something, at least, that Lina had agreed to her going - and there was Doctor Forbes to consider. ''Then lead the way,'' she said. ''I'll be right behind you.'' 

Bestowing a grateful kiss on Rhiannon's lips, Lina grabbed the torch and entered the passageway, the smaller woman on her heels. 

After descending the stairs in silence for a moment, Lina said, ''I see what Prickles was meaning to tell us before she became incommunicado.'' Her voice echoed strangely against the rock walls and ceiling. 

''What?'' Rhiannon scanned the narrow passageway, the precious statue clutched to her bosom. 

''See?'' Lina stopped and indicated a stair riser, then motioned forward. ''The dust has been disturbed; these stairs are practically clean, but you can see how much rock dust there was by the accumulation of that substance on the edges. Someone, or several someones, have been here before us; Prickles' passage can hardly account for such cleanliness.'' 

Rhiannon nodded. ''So we aren't the first to discover the passage. I wonder who was?'' 

Lina shrugged and continued downward. ''I have no idea, my dear. But I strongly suspect we shall find out shortly.'' 

It took only a few more minutes, even moving slowly, to step off the final stair, and into what appeared to be a large cavern. There still was no sign of Doctor Forbes. 

''Where could she be?'' Rhiannon wondered aloud, as Lina swept the torch back and forth, trying to estimate the ceiling height and dimensions of the cave. 

A strange voice echoed out of the darkness and Rhiannon's heart nearly stopped in shock. ''Why, the good doctor is fine,'' the voice said, a note of amusement in its tone. ''For now.'' 

Rhiannon glanced up at Lina, and her heart skipped a beat again when she saw the look of sheer horror on her wife's face. 

''Lina? What is it?'' Rhiannon whispered. 

''I know that voice,'' Lina replied just as softly, green eyes wide with shock. ''I thought she was dead.'' 

Rhiannon could only wonder at this statement, then the rasp of drawn steel made her gasp and take a firmer grip on the statue. 
 

CHAPTER THIRTY

Torches sprang to golden life, and the resulting flare of light made Rhiannon squint. In a few moments, her eyes adjusted and she saw several dozen Egyptian men, clad in djebellahs and turbans, their faces swathed in bushy beards; she also recognized Doctor Patterson, his round face shiny with sweat. Standing beside him, however, was a stranger... a woman with platinum blonde hair whose colorless eyes held more than a hint of madness. 

The woman spoke; it had been her voice they heard. ''Welcome to my little party, your Ladyship,'' she said mockingly. ''I'm glad you could come, even if my invitation was a bit obscure; but I knew you'd figure it out eventually.'' 

''Victoire... I thought you were dead,'' Lina moaned, the torch she still held in her hand wavering. 

Victoire let out a silvery laugh. ''Ah, yes,'' she replied, licking her lips. ''You thought I was dead. You weren't alone, Evie. I woke up in the hospital; one of my confederates with more fortitude than the rest dug me out of the rubble before the police arrived. So you see, I survived... despite your efforts to the contrary.'' 

Patterson spoke up. ''Give me the statue,'' he demanded. 

Rhiannon held it tightly and shook her head, edging closer to Lina. ''What do you want it for?'' she asked. 

Victoire pointed a finger at both women and immediately the Egyptian men leveled rifles and pistols at Lina and Rhiannon. ''Give the doctor the statue, cherie,'' she said, her reasonable tone belied by the fire that burned in her eyes. ''Or I'll just take it off your dead body.'' 

Swallowing, Rhiannon surrendered the statue to one of the Egyptians, who carried it over to Patterson. The doctor snatched it away and hurried over to a small wooden table. Muttering to himself, he took up a jeweler's loupe and began examining the base. 

Victoire dusted off the legs of her khaki trousers and smiled. ''It's been a long time, ma petite. Did you miss me?'' 

The torch dropped from Lina's hand and smoldered on the floor. ''How...?,'' the peer asked, clearly confused and shocked. 

Rhiannon stepped up to Lina's side and took her hand while the Frenchwoman explained. 

''Ah, that little trick of mine. Well you see, Evie, when you let go of me, I fell into the flames. Do you know what it feels like to burn alive? No?'' She licked her lips and patted her hair. ''As I told you, one of my confederates in the forgery ring dug me out and took me to the hospital. I was rather badly burned and the doctors thought I would die. But I didn't.'' Victoire shrugged and let out another high-pitched laugh that made Rhiannon flinch. 

Lina was silent, then said slowly, ''I did not let go of you, Vicky. You fell. It was an accident.'' 

Abruptly, Victoire's air of normality vanished; her lips peeled away from her teeth in a snarl and her hands knotted into fists. ''Lying bitch!'' she gritted, striding forward and slapping Lina across the face as hard as she could. The sound of the blow echoed through the stone cavern; the peer, her pale face marked in blazing red on one side, turned her head and looked down at the seething Frenchwoman. 

Victoire was panting. ''Bitch! Salope! You left me there to die! You can deny it to your dying breath but you left me there in the flames! Allez vous faire foutre!'' Tiny droplets of saliva sprayed out as she cursed, raving. 

Just as suddenly, her temper vanished, replaced by calm. ''But I survived. I am very good at that.'' 

Rhiannon flinched again as that colorless regard turned to look at her. The woman was obviously insane, if functional; her pathological hatred of Lina was evident. Victoire reached out one hand to touch the strawberry blonde's cheek and was stopped when Lina grabbed her arm. Instantly, the Egyptian's fingers tightened on the triggers of their weapons, but Lina merely glared down at the Frenchwoman, her deadly glare conveying a silent message: ''Touch her and die.''

Victoire wrenched her arm from Lina's grasp and laughed again. ''Oh, but Evie! How sweet! My men told me you had a special relationship with this little whore, but I had no idea! Do you love her so very much, then?'' 

Rhiannon felt Lina's grip on her fingers tighten. ''My personal life is none of your concern, Vicky,'' the peer replied. 

Victoire repeated mockingly, ''None of my concern?'' Then her tone changed to one of utter seriousness. ''Hang them up. I have some questions for them and I don't want to wait long for answers.'' 

Lina started to struggle when several men took her by the arms, but a cocked pistol held to Rhiannon's head made her give in meekly. In moments, both women had been tied to ropes suspended from the ceiling, their arms extended above their heads, and the ropes tightened until they both balanced on the balls of their feet to ease the strain on their wrists. 

''Where is Doctor Forbes?'' Lina asked. 

Victoire put a finger to her lips and appeared to consider the question. ''Hmm, let me see... You mean that old leche-con?'' 

Lina flushed at this reference to Forbes as a 'cunt lapper.' ''I mean Doctor Angelica Forbes, Vicky. What have you done with her?'' 

Victoire put her head to one side. ''Oh, James?'' she caroled in an artificially sweet tone. ''What did you do with Doctor Forbes?'' 

Patterson looked up from his work, the loupe still screwed into one eye. ''Too old to be much of a threat,'' he replied, ''and I hit her pretty hard. I left her over there.'' He indicated a corner of the cavern with his head. 

The Frenchwoman barked out some Arabic words and two of the men stepped in the indicated direction with a pair of torches. In a moment, one of them said something to Victoire, who flushed angrily and whirled back to Patterson. 

''She's not there, you stupid bastard! She's gone!'' 

Patterson began to sputter an explanation while Victoire raged in a crazed mixture of English and gutter French. Rhiannon's calves were beginning to cramp and she eased down, allowing her weight to hang from her wrists for a moment. The harsh fibers of the rope bit into her flesh; she clamped her bottom lip between her teeth to stifle a whimper as fiery pain lanced down her arms. She got back up on her toes as soon as she could, her face sweaty. 

Lina had been pulling and twisting at her bonds until blood ran down her arms and dripped off her elbows to splatter on the floor. Every now and then she would look at Rhiannon, since Victoire had been kind enough (so she said) to tie them up facing one another, if separated by perhaps ten feet. When she did, her eyes flashed with fury and she redoubled her efforts, lips thinned and expression fiercely determined. 

Victoire finally finished screeching imprecations at Patterson and screamed some commands at the men, who vanished up the stairwell, leaving their torches behind. 

Taking several deep breaths and then smiling with shocking sweetness, Victoire said to the doctor, ''I've sent the men to search for her. She won't get far in the desert and the Cook's steamer left three hours ago. The only places she could go to get help are Cairo and Luxor, both of which are too distant for her to walk. By the time she returned here with assistance, our business would be finished.'' 

Patterson nodded, relieved, and wiped beads of sweat from his brow. ''I'm sorry, Victoire,'' he said, ''I thought she was unconscious.'' 

Victoire walked over and patted his round face with one hand. ''It's all right, James. We all make mistakes.'' Suddenly, her nails dug into the flesh of his cheek and he cried out as she drew blood. ''But don't do it again!'' the Frenchwoman hissed, stepping back and away. 

Patterson dabbed at his bloody cheek with his hand, whimpering, ''But I didn't mean...'' 

Victoire cut him off. ''We don't have time for this. Have you finished the translation?'' 

''Yes, but there's nothing new here as far as I can tell. Just a reference to Octavian, but we already knew we were dealing with Kleopatra.'' Patterson was clearly afraid of the Frenchwoman's reaction but Victoire nodded calmly. 

''Then we need the papyrus,'' she said. ''It's the key to this affair. Unless you're an incompetent fool, but we already knew that, didn't we, James?'' 

She overlooked Patterson's blush and walked back over to Lina and Rhiannon. ''Oh, Evie!'' she chuckled, ''What have you done to yourself? Tsk, tsk, tsk,'' she continued, running a finger through the blood trickling down Lina's arm and popping her finger into her mouth, sucking on it luxuriously while Rhiannon gagged. Then Victoire moved over to the smaller woman and considered her. 

''James,'' Victoire said, her expression suddenly feral. ''Leave off with the statue and come here.'' 

The doctor got up and crossed to the Frenchwoman's side. With one thumb, Victoire indicated Rhiannon. ''Any ideas?'' she asked with a wicked glint in her colorless eyes. 

Patterson licked his lips. ''Yessss,'' he hissed. ''Do I get to play?'' 

Victoire nodded, putting one arm around the man's shoulders and playfully licking his earlobe. ''As long as you don't damage her too much,'' she said in a seductive purr. ''Try not to leave too many marks, James. Be a good boy and play with the little whore; I'll ask my petite Evie a few questions while you have your fun.'' 

Rhiannon gulped as Patterson approached her, and Lina tried to kick him as he passed, but the doctor adroitly avoided the blow. ''Watch, Evie,'' Victoire said. ''I want to know where that papyrus is, or at least what it said. I know you had the Forbes bitch translate the document, so don't bother to deny it.'' 

''Why?'' Lina said through gritted teeth. ''Why hurt Rhiannon? She does not know anything! Come on, Vicky! Do your worst to me instead... or are you too much of a coward to face me?'' 

Victoire looked up into Lina's face and giggled. ''But Evie! That's too deliciously noble. Sacrificing yourself for your putain, I'm impressed. But you see, I know anything I do to her is bound to hurt you worse than anything I do to you. So, watch and listen, Evie. And don't close your eyes or I'll slice your eyelids off.'' 

A fresh thread of blood coursed down one of Lina's arms as she tried desperately to get free.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE 

As Patterson placed his hands on Rhiannon's blouse and tore it away, she said loudly, ''Don't tell them anything, Lina! I mean it! No matter what they do, don't tell them!'' 

''Don't touch her!'' Lina screamed, cords standing out in her neck. 

''Lina!'' Rhiannon said calmly, ''Don't tell them anything. Promise me!'' 

Lina stared, panting harshly, her green eyes incandescent with unthinking fury. ''If you hurt her,'' she said icily, ''I will kill you.'' The look on her face made this a sincere promise more than a threat. 

Patterson giggled and removed the rest of Rhiannon's clothing with a knife while the strawberry blonde stayed as still as she could, the feeling of cold steel against her flesh making her shudder. 

Her ice blue eyes met Lina's. ''Don't say anything, Lina. I'm begging you.'' She swallowed, fear threatening to overwhelm her. ''Not a word.'' 

Rhiannon didn't relish the idea of being tortured but she knew that if they submitted to Victoire's demands, the Frenchwoman would summarily kill them both, having no further use for them. ''Lina,'' Rhiannon repeated, ''Promise me.'' 

The muscles in Lina's jaws jumped as she furiously strove to tear her bonds away... and Victoire's silvery laugh echoed in her mind. ''No!'' she croaked, ''No! Don't touch her, you bastard!'' 

Rhiannon took a deep breath as Patterson ran a hand across her belly. ''Lina...they're going to torture me anyway. Look at Victoire.'' 

Desperately, the peer tore her eyes away from Rhiannon's and stared into the Frenchwoman's colorless orbs, and read the amusement there, as well as anticipation. A tiny smile was curved across Victoire's face and her eyes were intent upon her prey; she resembled nothing so much as a cat confronting an especially succulent mouse. 

''NOOOOOOOOOOO!'' Lina howled in sheer rage as Victoire said, ''She's right, you know. Oh, I know you'd tell me what I want to know to save your Rhiannon, but honestly, Evie - I'm going to enjoy your suffering far too much to let it end too quickly. But don't do anything yet, James. Let's anticipate the moment, shall we?'' 

Patterson nodded but continued to stroke his hand across Rhiannon's trembling flesh. 

Lina panted, striving to think. Come on, she said to herself, distract her! Say something!

''I thought I loved you once,'' she said. ''Now I know I was infatuated with an insane whore who sold herself for a few francs. When we made love, Vicky, did you really climax or was that acting, too?'' 

Victoire's face colored in fury and she raised her hand, then lowered it and chuckled. ''Ah, Evie, you're very clever! Trying to focus my attention on you by making me angry. It isn't going to work, and I'll even answer your question.'' 

She moved a little closer, staying out of range of Lina's legs; she knew about the peer's baritsu skills. ''As a matter of fact, I enjoyed our lovemaking very much. You were quite the talented pupil, cherie. So eager, so pathetically desperate for attention. I was quite amused.'' 

It was Lina's turn to flush. ''I see,'' she replied simply, although inwardly, she was maintaining a sort of calm only by gut-wrenching effort. The longer I keep this madwoman talking, she thought, the more time that will give Rhiannon. ''So who is this Jackal, Vicky? Your puppet-master?'' 

Victoire laughed. ''No, no, cherie! Haven't you figured it out by now? I am the Jackal.'' She looked proudly at the bound peer. ''Now who's the clever one?'' 

Lina nodded. Suddenly, a great many things made sense and she ignored a fierce cramp in her calf. ''You have been trying to kill us since we came to Cairo. You wanted the statue but you wanted revenge even more.'' 

''True!'' Victoire gave a chilling little smile. ''After my father rescued me from the indigent's hospital in Paris, he set me up in this little business. His only condition was that I avoid London and Paris. I've been waiting for you, Evie, waiting for my opportunity for years. I want to hurt you as you've hurt me; I want to see you beg; I want to DESTROY YOU!'' Her eyes blazed with insanity and madness as she screamed these last words at the peer. 

''And who is your father?'' Lina asked, shifting her pose to ease another cramp. 

''I believe you know him, or at least, of him,'' Victoire replied, her mercurial mood shifting again. ''Shall I give you a hint? Mais non, I think you don't want to play very much today. I'll tell you. My father is known to your Mr. Sherlock Holmes - his name is Professor James Moriarty.'' 

Lina bit back a gasp. That explained Holmes' false deduction; he had traced the Jackal connection to Moriarty but had not know the criminal genius had a daughter. 

''Shocking, isn't it?'' Victoire said. ''My mother was a prostitute in Marseilles. When she died, father came for me. He paid for my art school education and set me up with the forgery ring. After my accident, he sent me to Cairo to convalesce. He was very impressed by how quickly I managed to take over a small smuggling operation there, so he set me up in business for myself. I had to eliminate a few stubborn rivals, but today, I'm the reigning queen of the Egyptian underworld. Does that make you proud?'' 

Lina nodded; anything to keep Victoire talking. ''Why the statue? Why the papyrus? How did you learn about the treasure?'' 

''Oh...'' Victoire waved a hand airily. ''Why, it was James, of course! He discovered some obscure reference in a demotic text and was quick to bring it to my attention. We managed to piece together part of the story, enough to realize that there must be a treasure hidden somewhere in the Abydos tomb. It took a few weeks to discover the underground passage and then we were stymied. I had a wonderful time trying to decide what would happen first when you popped up in Cairo - your death or your involvement in this affair. You do have a way of making other people's business your own, cherie.'' 

''You were spying on us the entire time?'' 

''Yes, I was! You didn't make one move that I didn't know about. I have eyes everywhere in Egypt, Evie. We lack only one key to get into the treasure vault and I'm convinced that key is in the papyrus. Poor James is hardly the master of hieratic script and we couldn't take it to a legitimate source to be translated. I hoped you'd discover it on your own, and you did. James was surprised but I wasn't. I knew you'd keep flailing away at the problem until you solved it. Your stubbornness is one of your more endearing qualities.'' Victoire bestowed a falsely fond smile on the other woman. 

Lina ground her teeth together audibly, then forced herself to relax. ''Why go through this farce of harming Rhiannon?'' she asked. ''Whatever you want to know, I will tell you freely. Just let her go and do not injure her.'' 

Rhiannon started to protest, but at a nod from Victoire, Patterson viciously backhanded her. A sudden flare of rage swelled up, nearly choking Lina, but she managed to swallow her choler. 

Victoire's colorless eyes locked on the peer's face. ''You know why!'' she said tightly. ''I want to see you suffer! I'm going to have a lot of fun with your little bitch, and James is, too. And then we're going to have some more fun. In fact, I plan to play with her until she dies; afterwards, if you're lucky, Evie, I just might kill you, too.'' 

Her hands went to her blouse and she rapidly unbuttoned it. ''See?'' she screeched, flecks of saliva gathering at the corners of her lips. ''See what you did to me?'' She yanked both halves of her shirt apart and waited, lips twisted in a snarl. 

Lina's eyes widened in horror.
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Victoire's torso was covered in thick masses of scar tissue. Only one breast remained relatively untouched; the other was an irregular lump that lacked even a nipple to identify it. The cable-like weals and roughly wrinkled patches snaked across her belly and disappeared beneath the waistband of her trousers. 

''There's more,'' the Frenchwoman said, pulling her shirt back together again, ''But I think I'll show you the rest later. Right now, James and I have some business to attend to.'' 

The Frenchwoman walked to Patterson's side and took the knife out of his hand. ''We want her to live for a good long time, remember, cher?'' She playfully tugged a lock of his hair and he winced. ''No blades. At least, not yet. Surely you can be creative enough with your hands...'' 

Lina began to speak rapidly. ''Do not do this, Vicky! I am begging you! I will do anything you want, anything! But do not hurt Rhiannon!'' 

Victoire smiled, then her hand darted out and she pinched one of Rhiannon's nipples hard, making the strawberry-blonde gasp and try to twist away. ''No, cherie,'' the Frenchwoman said, her eyes lighting up with sadistic glee. ''Do you think me fool enough to fall for your tricks?'' 

Lina said desperately, ''I give you my word, Vicky. Untie me... I will get down on my knees, I will grovel on my belly. I will do whatever you want. Please.... do not hurt her.'' 

Vicky pursed her lips and looked over her shoulder at the peer. ''Anything?'' she asked. 

Inwardly, Lina shuddered, but she remained firm in her resolve. No matter what humiliation Victoire might dream up, she would submit gratefully if only Rhiannon could be spared. ''Yes,'' she replied, refusing to look into her lover's eyes. ''Anything. You have my word.'' 

''And your word is your bond, yes?'' Victoire walked over to Lina and put both hands on the woman's hips. ''Would you kiss me, Evie? Would you make love to me, right here in front of your beloved? Would you fuck me with your tongue and make me squeal with delight?'' 

Swallowing, Lina said hoarsely, ''Yes. Just let her go, Vicky. Let her go and I will do anything you want.'' 

Rhiannon couldn't help but watch helplessly as Victoire stretched up on her toes and put her face close to Lina's. ''Kiss me, Evie,'' she said, putting her mouth on Lina's. 

Although completely disgusted, Lina kissed Victoire, even allowing the Frenchwoman's tongue to play with hers. When the kiss broke off, Lina was nearly trembling with the effort of suppressing her nausea. But if it saved Rhiannon, she was willing to submit to Victoire's perverse desires. 

Playing with a lock of Lina's dark hair, Victoire stared at her for a long moment, then leaned forward and clamped her teeth deeply into Lina's lower lip, drawing blood. It was painful, but Lina didn't flinch or try to draw away, not even when Victoire's tongue flicked out to lick the blood that trickled down her chin. 

Finally, Victoire stepped back. ''It's a tempting offer, cherie,'' she said, a hint of malicious humor glinting in her colorless eyes. ''But no. I think your little one here will be much more fun.'' 

With a sense of disbelief that turned rapidly into rage, Lina realized that Victoire had only been toying with her. ''You sadistic, heartless bitch!'' the peer choked, and Rhiannon flinched as Patterson laughed harshly and squeezed her thigh. 

Victoire giggled. ''Perhaps. But mind that you watch, ma belle. Or else...'' she patted the knife sheath that hung from her belt. 

Turning back to Patterson, she continued, ''Now, James - let's see how long it will take to make this pouffiasse scream.'' 

The doctor licked his dry lips. 

Rhiannon said breathlessly, ''Don't tell them anything, Lina! No matter what!'' 

And Lina, almost weeping with frustration and fury, yanked violently on the ropes that bound her wrists, the pain of the raw, bleeding flesh as nothing compared to the agony in her soul. 

Rhiannon tried to resist, tried not to show Lina how much she suffered, knowing that every movement she made, any sound she might emit, would only increase Lina's torture. And there were other reasons, besides. 

After a while, Victoire thoughtfully licked a drop of blood from her hand and said, ''She's more stubborn than I thought, cher. Let's put our heads together and be more imaginative.'' 

Patterson nodded eagerly, and the minutes seemed like hours as they slowly slipped away, eventually accompanied by the echoes of Rhiannon's first scream... and the ones that followed after. 
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Lina stared unseeing into the distance, her eyes glazed, panting lightly. She hung by her full weight from her mangled wrists; streaks of blood, both fresh and dried, covered her arms and spotted her shirtfront. 

Rhiannon, too, hung by her wrists, but she was unconscious. Her hair had come down and strands were stuck to her nude body; bruises bloomed on her flesh, her torso was covered with shallow cuts. Blood dripped slowly down her thighs, making a tiny puddle beneath her feet. 

Victoire and Patterson had gone to the back of the cavern, where a life-sized statue of the Egyptian god Anubis stood. Carved of some black stone, the jackal-headed figure held a golden spear in one hand, the other outstretched as if for an offering. 

Lina had screamed the details of the papyrus over and over again until her voice had given out and she could only croak hoarsely. It had not saved Rhiannon, and the longer the torture had continued, the more insanely the peer had struggled, until finally, when Rhiannon's head lolled forward and she slumped in a faint, Lina had stopped moving and stared, just as she was now, at nothing and no one. 

Their murmured voices floated back. ''So how is the statue the key?'' Victoire asked. 

''I don't know,'' Patterson replied. ''I suspect there is some sort of counter-balancing mechanism at work here. But if we guess incorrectly, the results will be disastrous.'' 

''Hmmm...'' Victoire glanced over her shoulder at the two women. ''The little one, she knows nothing. But Evie, she may have an idea or two. Go ask her, cher.'' 

Patterson snorted. ''She's gone mad, Victoire. Look at her! She won't be of any further use. Let's kill her now and get it over with.'' 

''Patience, James!'' Victoire patted his face, ignoring his wince as she painfully struck his scratches. ''Just go ask her. Threaten her whore again; that should be enough to snap her out of it.'' 

Patterson ran one hand through his blonde hair and with an exasperated sigh, walked over to the catatonic peer. 

''Hey!'' he said, poking Lina in the chest with a finger. ''I'm talking to you, your Ladyship! Don't look much like a grand lady now, do you?'' 

Lina stared through him, green eyes wide and glazed, her lips parted slightly as she took shallow breaths. 

Patterson poked her harder. ''Pay attention, slut! I know you can hear me. Look at me or I swear to God I'll cut your pretty girl's throat!'' 

Slowly, Lina's eyes focused on Patterson's round face. He grinned. ''That got your attention, didn't it?'' He casually unbuttoned Lina's shirt and fondled one of her breasts. ''Maybe Victoire'll let me play with you, too. I'd like that. I bet you've never had a cock before, have you? You tribades are all the same; what you need is a real man to show you what sex is really about. I bet you'd squeal like a stoat! I've heard stories about you fine ladies, you know.'' 

Lina didn't answer, merely stared. 

Victoire, who had been listening with half an ear, suddenly turned around. ''James!'' she cried, ''Don't!'' 

Patterson turned his head to flash his grin at the Frenchwoman - and in that moment, Lina struck. 

Her legs shot up around the doctor's pudgy neck, ankles crossed, squeezing his throat with her powerful thigh muscles. Patterson choked, his hands coming up to scrabble at Lina's trousers as her hands clamped around the rope to support her weight, ice-cold hatred turning her eyes into glittering emerald frost. 

Patterson staggered, his eyes bulging, trying to get away, but Lina's grip never faltered. Even as Victoire ran across the cavern, there was a sickening crack as the peer twisted her body, snapping the doctor's neck like a green twig. He fell convulsing to the floor, his bowels releasing in a flood of foulness as Lina let him drop and stood on his twitching face, panting with effort. 

Victoire stopped dead. ''Oh, Evie,'' she said mournfully. ''Why did you do that?'' She considered the scene a moment, then giggled. ''You know, the stink is going to be terrible before too long; there's little air circulation down here.'' 

Lina looked down at Patterson's body, her nostrils pinched and white, then her glacial gaze swung up to take in her former lover. ''Come a little closer, Vicky,'' she rasped, ''I will be happy to make sure you will never be troubled by a little stench again.'' 

''I'm sure.'' Victoire giggled again. ''No matter. More for me, then. I will miss him, though, perhaps a little. He was fairly decent in bed, you know - even if he had a tiny kiquette - but he more than made up for it in imagination.'' 

''Spare me the details,'' Lina growled. ''I am going to kill you, Vicky. On that, you have my word.'' 

Victoire chuckled, then began howling with laughter, pounding her knees and clutching her ribs as she gave in to the uncontrollable fit of hilarity. Finally, though, she stopped, hiccuping and wiping away tears. ''Oh, Evie,'' she said, ''That's so sweet of you!'' She began to giggle, then stopped with an effort. ''Don't fear, cherie. I will outlive you; this I know.'' 

Victoire blew a kiss to the dead Patterson, then crossed the cavern to study the statue again. 

Rhiannon woke up and nearly cried out. Her wrists were twin flares of agony; other aches and pains, from the dull throb between her legs to the razor-sharp threads of fire that criss-crossed her chest, made it an effort to keep silent. Tears filled her pale blue eyes, and she looked up at Lina, struggling to regain her feet. 

Lina looked at Rhiannon helplessly. ''I am so sorry, my dear,'' she said, tears welling up in her own eyes. ''I tried...'' 

Rhiannon looked Lina's wrists, at the blood that covered her arms, and whispered, ''I know.'' Her gaze traveled down. ''Patterson?'' she asked as she finally managed to get back up on her toes. 

''Yes.'' 

''What about Victoire?'' Rhiannon swayed in place, her knees wobbling. 

''Not yet, my dear. But I swear to you: I will kill her for what she did to you.'' 

Rhiannon focused on Lina, and suddenly realized the peer's shirt was unbuttoned. ''Did he...?,'' she began to ask, then stopped. 

Lina shook her head. 

They looked at each other for a long moment, each assessing the other's injuries; Lina with a growing sense of wrath, and Rhiannon wanting desperately to both weep and choke the life out of Victoire with her bare hands. Then, Rhiannon was startled to hear a barely detectable noise from behind - the soft scrape of a bootheel on the stony floor. 

A voice spoke into her ear so softly she could hardly make it out. ''I am here,'' the voice said, ''And I have brought reinforcements. Can you hang on a little longer? It will take time to prepare for an assault.'' 

Rhiannon's heart beat faster. It was Holmes! She casually nodded her head, catching Lina's eye and mouthing the detective's name. The peer nodded as well, her eyes searching the semi-darkness. 

After a minute, Rhiannon whispered, ''Holmes?'' But there was no reply; he had obviously gone. 

Hope began to make the strawberry blonde's blood sing. She had utter faith in Holmes; she knew he would manage, somehow, to effect a rescue. 

Victoire crossed to the Anubis figure, Rhiannon's statue in her hand. Suddenly, she let out a crow of laughter. ''Of course!'' she cried, ''It's so simple!'' 

Turning to her captives, the Frenchwoman said excitedly, ''The papyrus was part of the key but it all fits together. See?'' She held the statue up and pointed at the tiny circlet of steel that held back the onyx warrior's hair. ''Eternal lovers... in many cultures, the symbol for infinity or eternity is a circle. And 'rewarded in death not in life' means that the Anubis figure is part of it all.The guardian, so to speak'' She grinned happily. ''I know what I need to do now. But don't be impatient, mes amis. Just as soon as I take a look at my treasure, I won't need you anymore. Enjoy each other's company until I return.'' 

With a triumphant air, Victoire plucked the steel circlet from the statue and dropped it into the Anubis figure's hand. There was a high-pitched whine followed by a deep grating as the figure's hand sank down, down, down... and a section of the wall behind it slowly rose up. 

Victoire's silvery laugh filled the cavern as she snatched up a torch and entered the dark doorway.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Victoire trilled a happy song, surveying her new acquisition. The small room was filled with treasures of silver and gold; carved alabaster boxes spilled out strings of jewels and semi-precious beads, gilded statues reared, elaborately worked necklaces, bracelets, headpieces, rings and earrings glittered in the torchlight. There were even stacks of gold bars, mingled with other bars of silver and that blend of silver and gold called electrum. It would take a lifetime to catalog all these treasures, but the Frenchwoman was not interested in the collection as an archaeological find. 

She ran a greedy hand through an open box that had been carved into the shape of a gape-mouthed hippopotamus, letting the cool gems slide between her fingers. With a merry giggle, she began to spin in place, absolutely giddy with delight. 

Lina waited impatiently. ''Where the Devil is he?'' she asked quietly, although frustration was evident in her tone. ''What is taking so long?'' 

Suddenly, shouts and wild ululations, accompanied by sporadic gunfire, could be heard coming faintly from the top of the stairwell. ''That must be Holmes!'' Lina said, exchanging a look of triumph with her wife. 

A hand grabbed Rhiannon's rope and began sawing at it with a knife. ''I apologize for my tardiness,'' Holmes said. This time, Lina could see him. The saturnine man wore the dark blue robes and turban of a nomadic Bedouin, complete in each detail save that his face was unveiled in defiance of custom. 

''Hurry up, Holmes!'' Lina hissed, tugging her bonds lightly and ignoring the pain of her bloody, swollen wrists. ''Cut me loose!'' 

Holmes finished cutting through Rhiannon's rope and caught her as she slumped over, laying her gently on the ground. He removed the remnants that were wrapped around the small woman's wrists, pitching them away with a scowl. Then, he rose and standing face to face with Lina, began to work on her own rope. 

''I meant to follow the two of you at a discreet distance,'' Holmes said softly, his breath puffing into Lina's face. ''I was disguised as a porter. However, I neglected to inform an old friend that I was in Egypt and my plans went awry.'' 

''Tell me later, Holmes!'' Lina almost shouted in an agony of impatience, hastily lowering her tone at Holmes' scowl. ''Just cut!'' 

In a matter of moments, Holmes had the peer freed. Lina nearly sank to her knees when the excruciating burn of blood flowing back into her hands made her bite her lip to keep from crying out. Holmes hastily massaged the peer's hands, wincing at the condition of her wrists. 

Rhiannon managed to prop herself up on one elbow. ''Did you bring my staff?'' she asked. 

''Yes,'' Holmes replied shortly. At Lina's nod, he went over to the other woman and squatting down, began massaging her hands to help restore circulation. ''It is over there, against that wall.'' Quickly, the detective whipped a loose robe out of the folds of his own costume and pulled it over Rhiannon's head. 

''I take it you have arranged for a diversion of some sort?'' Lina asked, pounding one of her calves with a fist to beat out a cramp. 

''Yes. There is, however, no time for details.'' Holmes' gaze flickered to the corpse on the floor. ''Patterson?'' he asked. 

Lina nodded. ''That bastard - he was one of the sources of Rhiannon's injuries,'' she replied tightly. ''And now I am going to see to the other one.'' She rose unsteadily, clenching her jaw and forcing quivering muscles to respond. 

Holmes opened his mouth to protest... but closed it again when all Hell broke loose. 

A swarm of shrieking Egyptians stumbled down the stairwell, engaged in battle with sword-wielding Bedouins. As the fight swirled into the cavern, Lina picked one of the men who was not a nomad and with casual skill, powerfully lashed out one leg, toes pointed like a dagger, straight into his chest. 

The man fell without a sound, his heart burst like a ripe tomato behind his shattered rib cage, and Lina bent over and grabbed his sword. Hefting it with a fierce grin, she ran across the cavern, all injuries forgotten in the heady flush of anticipated revenge, disappearing through the secret doorway. 

Rhiannon got to her feet with Holmes' help and snatched her staff clumsily from its resting place. Although her hands were not quite steady, she thumbed the hidden catch, releasing the spearpoint, and when the first Egyptian howled and came at her with an upraised sword, she neatly sliced through his throat, then brought the staff around to plunge it into his belly. 

He dropped, a spray of blood catching Rhiannon in the face. She wiped it off with the back of her hand and placed a foot on the body, yanking the staff out. A familiar voice called, ''Well done, Miss Rhiannon!'' 

Although sickened but sternly reminding herself of the necessity, Rhiannon turned around, blocking a sword, and beheld Solange. The maid was dressed head to toe in a tight-fitting black trouser costume, her slim figure clearly detailed. A knife in each hand, she spun and twirled gracefully, her deadly daggers finding their mark in throat, eyes, thigh and stomach. 

Holmes panted at Rhiannon's side, ''I took the liberty of inviting Miss Solange to our soiree.'' Slim sword at the ready, the detective fouled his opponent's weapon with the cloak he held in one hand, then swiftly dispatched the enemy with an economy of motion that was astonishing. 

A chilling howl of canine rage filled the cavern, and Rhiannon, wondering a little at her inhuman calm in the midst of this blood-drenched madness, dispatched another Egyptian to Allah and noted that her wolfhound Fyvie was there as well. The enormous dog rose up, clamping her jaws on a shrieking man's face and pulling him down. She shook him, growling horribly, and there was a crunch as his skull gave way. 

Between the Bedouins and the Europeans, the Egyptians were clearly outmatched, in skill if not in numbers; the nomads had forced them by trickery to empty their guns of ammunition and fall back on more traditional weaponry. But there was no time to think, no time to consider, as Rhiannon defended herself and her friends with the skills she had practiced but never really put into use, allowing the reflexes that had been drilled into her to take over, guiding her almost exhausted body with grace and lethal precision. 

Suddenly, Lina's voice rose above the shouts and screams of the fighters. Rhiannon whirled around and beheld lover wife exiting the doorway. Victoire was in front of her, a sword in her own hand, and the two women exchanged blows with consummate skill, sparks striking from the steel they both held. 

A stunning blow to her back made Rhiannon fall to her knees, gasping for breath, staff falling from nerveless fingers. The Egyptian behind her grinned, teeth flashing through his beard, and raised his sword with a shouted, ''Bismillah!'' 

Rhiannon fumbled for her staff but it had rolled beyond her reach, and she was helpless to respond. 
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Rhiannon squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the stroke that would end her life... Goodbye, Lina, she whispered in her mind. I love you.

After a moment, however, when the anticipated deathblow didn't come, she opened her eyes again and looked over her shoulder. The Egyptian swayed in place, sword dropping with a clang, then fell over heavily. Rhiannon saw a dagger hilt standing out in the back of his neck, as well as Holmes' thin sword piercing through to his heart. 

Solange skidded to a halt beside Rhiannon. ''Are you all right?'' she asked, offering a hand and helping the other woman to her feet. The maid/assassin poked the dead Egyptian with one toe. ''That one was dead twice over. But where is Holmes? I saw him throw his rapier; the Monsieur has very good aim,'' she concluded with the air of a professional praising an inspired amateur. 

They both looked over the melee and quickly saw the detective, who had re-armed himself with an enormous half-moon shaped sword, wreaking havoc. He appeared to be suffering no injuries, so Rhiannon tore her eyes away from him and searched for Lina. 

The peer, lips stretched in a bloodthirsty grin, was hammering blow after blow down on Victoire, who had her own sword clutched in both hands and was frantically parrying. It was clear, however, that the Frenchwoman would soon be defeated; she was growing tired, while Lina seemed indefatigable, unstoppable, a titanic goddess glowing with righteous wrath. 

Rhiannon bent over and grabbed her staff again, then waded through the fight, blocking unconsciously and answering threats with unthinking savagery. Her sole thought was to get to Lina's side as quickly as possible; everything else, including pain, was swallowed up in this concern. 

Suddenly, Lina staggered back, clutching her side. 

A patch of dark red blood blossomed on her ripped shirt and Victoire waved a little knife at her, colorless eyes blazing with anticipated victory. ''Did you really think I'd answer that ridiculous challenge of yours, cherie?'' she asked mockingly, advancing with her sword held at the ready. ''You really are suicidally honorable. Telling me to pick up a sword to defend myself...'' Her head bobbed back and forth like a snake's as she considered the peer. ''You should know by now that I don't play fair. You should have killed me when you had the chance.'' 

Lina hissed through her teeth, forcing her hand to clamp down on her sword's hilt. If she dropped it, there would be no chance at all. She wasn't sure how deeply she had been cut but she could feel the pulsing of blood against the palm of her other hand. She would have time for only one final move... 

Victoire's tongue flickered over her lips. ''I've been waiting for this a long time, cherie. Of course, I would rather burn you alive,'' she said matter-of-factly with a shrug, ''but as long as you're dead, I'll be happy.'' 

Lina gasped, ''Save your breath for fighting,'' and raised her sword, the point quivering as her hand trembled. 

Victoire gave her an evil smile. ''You should save your breath for praying,'' she said. Her sword darted forward, aimed at Lina's vulnerable throat. 

Lina knew she wouldn't be able to get her weapon up in time but tried anyway, her only regret that she wouldn't be able to tell Rhiannon goodbye. 

But the blow never came. A staff lashed out, striking Victoire's blade upward, and Rhiannon was there, her robe spotted with blood, bare feet planted firmly on the stone floor, a look of absolute determination on her face even as she panted with effort. 

Victoire cursed, then in a lightning move, flipped the sword to her other hand and struck out, hitting Rhiannon hard across the face. She fell to the ground heavily without so much as a grunt, the spearpoint of the staff chiming like a bell as it rolled along the floor, a wealth of dirty hair covering her face. 

Victoire turned back to Lina with a smile - a smile that faltered as the peer roared with rage, eyes narrowing into hate-filled slits, and lunged forward, her sword dropping to the ground, hands outstretched, her only conscious thought a consummate desire to fix her hands around her enemy's throat. 

The Frenchwoman swung her sword but already Lina was too close and contemptuously blocked the feeble blow with a forearm. Frantically, Victoire began back-pedaling, trying to get some distance, but the enraged peer stayed close, dodging sword strikes or blocking them. 

Finally, Victoire raised the sword above her head and swung down with all her might, hoping this desperation blow would split Lina's head like a melon. But to her astonishment and shock, Lina caught the blade between her palms, muscles standing out in her arms; the steel actually whined under the stress. 

Victoire nearly wept with frustration and tried to yank the sword away, but Lina held it there, staring down at the other woman. With a tiny smile, the peer snapped her hands to the right and the blade shattered in half. Victoire gaped at the uselessly splintered remains... then flung the hilt into Lina's face and dashed towards the stairway. 

Lina started to go after her, but was stopped by a soft moan. Rhiannon! All thoughts of revenge vanished with that quiet sound that ripped through her heart, and she quickly turned back. 

The peer knelt down beside her lover and gently smoothed the hair away from her face. Lina's heart thumped as she realized that Victoire had hit Rhiannon with the flat of the blade, not the edge; although the smaller woman most likely had a broken nose - even as she watched it was swelling - but Rhiannon was alive. 

''Lina?'' Rhiannon opened her eyes a crack and looked up at the beaming peer. ''I have the worst headache.'' 

With a sob that was half laughter, half tears, Lina gathered Rhiannon to her breast and held her, trying to be careful of the other woman's wounds. ''You will be fine, my dear,'' Lina said, crying with relief. ''You will be just fine.'' 

Rhiannon's hand stole up to stroke Lina's dark hair. ''Victoire... is she...?'' 

Lina looked into her wife's face and tenderly kissed her cheek. ''No, my dear. Not yet.'' Her expression hardened. ''But I promise you - she will not go unpunished.'' 

Rhiannon sighed. ''Help me up,'' she said. 

''But my dear! Just lie here; the fight is nearly over. Most of the Egyptians are dead or surrendered. Those few who are left will be easily dispatched by Holmes' Bedouins.'' Lina looked at Rhiannon anxiously. ''You have been hurt, sweetheart. Rest a little while.'' 

''No. Help me up,'' Rhiannon repeated stubbornly, ''And give me my staff.'' She began to struggle, so Lina reluctantly helped her to stand and kept an arm around her waist to support her, the peer's other hand clamped to her own side to keep the bleeding of her knife wound in check. 

''Leave the staff for now, my dear. You will not need it and it can be retrieved later.'' 

Rhiannon rested her head against Lina's chest, both arms around her lover's waist. ''I want it. Give it to me.'' She released her grip and stood on her own feet, swaying a little in place. 

Leaving her wife to stand alone, Lina bent down with a grunt to snatch the staff from the floor, noting only half-consciously that the Bedouins, at Holmes' direction, had begun tying up the prisoners. The battle was over. 

Turning back to Rhiannon, Lina started to say something, but was interrupted by a howl of purely malevolent triumph. 
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

"You're all going to die!,'' Victoire screamed from her position on the stairs. ''All of you!'' 

The Bedouins stared up at the Frenchwoman. Her platinum blonde hair, encrusted with dirt and blood, stood up in quiffs around her face, and those colorless eyes were filled with the light of intense insanity. Tucked into the waistband of her trousers was a bundle of sticks that Lina realized with a sense of shock was dynamite; in her hands she held a box of lucifers, one match poised to strike. 

''Thought you had me, didn't you, Evie?'' Victoire mocked. ''Thought you'd made me run. But I'll have the last laugh, cherie! That'll be the final thing you hear, right before you and your precious putain are buried alive!'' 

Lina tightened her grip on the staff and shifted her position slightly. If she had a chance, she would try and throw the weapon like a spear and pray that her aim was true. 

Rhiannon, exhausted from blood loss, pain and exertion, sank to the floor and could only gaze dully at the madwoman on the stairs. 

Victoire giggled and struck the match. It flared up with a sizzle and she touched the flame to the dynamite fuse, watching it spark with wide eyes and a fixed smile. 

Removing the bundle from her trousers, she hefted it in one hand. ''You really should thank me, Evie. After all, I'm letting you and Rhiannon die together. Perhaps there'll even be time for a tender moment or two before you take your last breath together.'' 

Lina's muscles were tensed as she calculated the distance between herself and Victoire. Her hand slid along the shaft until it felt balanced; rising up on the balls of her feet, she prepared to throw... 

And Victoire suddenly jerked forward violently, the dynamite falling from her hands; she toppled forward, rolling bonelessly down the stairs to land in a heap at the bottom. 

Strong, tanned hands reached down and pinched out the fuse. 

Lina let go of the staff and shouted, ''Prickles!'' 

The archaeologist waved one hand. Although her face was bruised and one eye swollen nearly shut, she appeared to be in fairly good condition. ''And a hearty good morning to you, too,'' she called back, carefully walking down the stairs, limping slightly. 

Lina turned back and saw Rhiannon huddled on the floor. Going to her, the peer knelt down and said, ''It is over, my dear. We will get you to a doctor as quickly as possible.'' Her eyes were filled with concern. 

Rhiannon nodded weakly. ''Sleepy,'' she murmured. 

''Stay awake, sweetheart,'' Lina said firmly. ''Keep talking to me.'' 

But Rhiannon closed her eyes, surrendering to the darkness of oblivion, the last thing she heard was Lina's voice raised in a frantic shout, ''Prickles! Holmes! Help me!!'' 

And then there was only silence.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Rhiannon woke up slowly, eyes fluttering as they adjusted to the sunlight that streamed into... the tent? 

She opened her eyes fully and glanced around. She lay on a low platform that had been heaped with soft mattresses and blankets. Beneath the light coverlet, she was nude. 

Laying back with a small sigh, Rhiannon carefully felt her body, taking in the swathed bandages that covered her torso. A sense of fullness between her thighs told her she'd been packed with something to absorb the blood. Her face ached; in fact, her entire body felt as if it were one large bruise. 

Lina's face swam into view as she sat down on the edge of the bed. ''How do you feel, my dear?'' she asked anxiously. 

Rhiannon made a face and whispered, ''Ouch!'' when that gesture hurt, too. ''I'm alive,'' she rasped quietly, her throat almost too dry for speech. ''That's about the best I can say right now.'' 

Lina nodded, sliding an arm beneath her lover's shoulders and helping her sit up. A brass cup filled with water was pressed to her lips and Rhiannon drank thirstily, then allowed herself to be gently placed back down on the bed. 

''What happened?'' Rhiannon asked. ''I remember Doctor Forbes turning up...''' 

''Well, as to that,'' Lina replied, ''Prickles knocked Victoire unconscious and rendered the dynamite hors de combat. It seemed she was shamming her faint earlier; although Patterson struck hard, our Prickles has a head as solidly strong as a cannonball. She twisted her ankle slightly falling down the stairs and has quite a collection of bruises, but she is fine.'' 

Rhiannon gave her wife a tired little smile. ''I'm glad she's all right,'' she murmured. ''What about you? I seem to recall you were hurt, too.'' 

Lina sighed. ''I am fine, my dear. A few stitches quickly put me to rights. It was you I was concerned about.'' She gestured and Rhiannon saw the thick bandages that were wrapped around both of Lina's wrists. 

Rhiannon put her hand on Lina's thigh and squeezed gently. ''Are you sure?'' she asked. 

''Quite sure,'' Lina replied, ''although I am certain you will not be satisfied until you have examined the injury yourself.'' She pulled her shirt out of the waistband of her trousers and showed Rhiannon the large bandage that was fastened with sticking plaster to her side. ''Prickles did the stitching herself; she has a neat hand and a light touch.'' 

Rhiannon carefully put on hand against the bandage. ''You were bleeding terribly. Are you sure you're all right?'' 

Lina chuckled. ''Yes, my dear,'' she said, leaning forward and kissing the other woman's lips lightly. ''I am sure. You were the worst injured of the lot.'' Abruptly, her face darkened. ''Patterson got off lightly indeed. I would rather have liked to have made him suffer as you did.'' 

''No, you don't,'' Rhiannon said. ''You don't have the stomach for torture, love. You're too decent and honorable a person. I can't say I'm not glad he's dead, though.'' 

With an effort, Lina smiled and patted Rhiannon's hand. ''You just lie there and rest, my dear. I have a few things to attend to and I will return as quickly as I can.'' 

''But Lina, I have so much to ask...'' 

''Not now, sweetheart.'' Lina rose abruptly and left the tent, calling back over her shoulder in a hard tone, ''Sleep, Rhiannon. I promise I will return shortly.'' 

Rhiannon stared after her lover and a tear slowly trickled down one cheek. She can't stand the sight of me, Rhiannon thought sadly. What Patterson and Victoire did to me was terrible, but not nearly as terrible as losing my Lina. She watched while they hurt me, and now she can't bear to touch me, or even talk to me.

Turning over on her side and ignoring the flare of pain, Rhiannon buried her face into the pillow and wept quietly. 

Lina breathed in hoarse gasps, hands clenched into fists. Forbes, a look of intense concern on her face, rubbed the straining peer's back and murmured, ''Let it go, child. Just let it go.'' 

Lina shook and bit back the howl of rage that threatened to burst out of her throat. With agonizing slowness, she regained control and stood up straight, wincing as the stitches in her side pulled painfully. Her face was beaded with sweat. ''I wish you hadn't stopped me from killing her,'' she said bleakly. 

Forbes sighed and scrubbed her spiky hair with one hand. Her eye was still swollen, but not nearly as grotesquely as it had been. ''Would it have changed anything if I hadn't?'' she asked. 

Lina considered. ''Yes. No. Perhaps. I do not know, Prickles!'' she almost shouted, then lowered her voice. ''All I know is that every time I look at Rhiannon, I see Victoire's face, hear her laughter... and it drives me nearly mad with fury. I want so very badly to take that bitch's throat between my hands and squeeze the life out of her - preferably as slowly as possible.'' 

Forbes placed a hand on Lina's broad shoulder. ''Evie,'' she said calmly, ''I can certainly understand your anger and frustration. Your lover was harmed, right in front of you, and you were helpless to prevent it. I think the problem is not Rhiannon or Victoire; I think the problem is yourself.'' 

Lina stared down at Forbes. ''What the Devil are you talking about, Prickles?'' she demanded angrily. 

Motioning Lina over to a firepit, Forbes took a seat and put an arm around the taller woman's shoulders when she sat down next to the archaeologist. ''My child, I have lived for some time longer than you have, and while I can't claim to have the world's wisdom at my fingertips, I have learned a thing or two. Will you listen to your old teacher and take her advice?'' 

Lina nodded, listening. Forbes had never lied to her, never evaded a hard question, and her pursuit of answers was legendary. If there was anything she could do to help stop up the raging abyss that tore apart her soul whenever she thought of her beloved wife, screaming in agony as they hurt her... 

Forbes continued, light brown eyes staring intently into Lina's face. ''Victoire was once your lover, correct?'' When Lina nodded, she said, ''And you believed you were in love with her?'' Again, the peer nodded. ''I've heard about what happened in Paris, Evie. You tried to drink yourself to death out of misplaced guilt when you thought Victoire was dead.'' 

Lina flushed. ''Yes. And it is one of the more humiliating episodes in my past, and one of which I am deeply ashamed,'' she said. 

Forbes squeezed Lina's shoulder. ''Now then - years later, Victoire, whom you believed to be dead, turns up like the proverbial bad shilling. Lo and behold! She has resumed her criminal career. She tried a number of times to assassinate you and Rhiannon, finally taking the two of you prisoner through no fault of your own. Have I stated the case correctly thus far?'' 

Lina sighed and clasped her hands together loosely. ''Yes,'' she replied simply. 

''And then - well, I'm not cognizant of all the details, you haven't spoken about it, but if you will recall, I assisted you in tending to Rhiannon's wounds.'' Forbes cleared her throat. ''Like your friend, Mr. Holmes, I can deduce much from the evidence at hand.'' 

Lina nodded, her lips thinning. 

''You could do nothing to prevent it. I'm willing to wager that you felt rather as you did when Victoire plunged into the flames - guilty, filled with self-hatred and self-recrimination, telling yourself that the entire affair was your fault.'' 

Lina was startled and her eyes flew up to meet Forbes'. ''Rot!'' she spat after a moment, ''Utter nonsense! I...'' She paused as unwelcome recollection thrust itself into her regard and she began examining both the past and present. 

After reflecting in silence for several long minutes, Lina sighed and leaned against Forbes. ''I... I could not save her,'' she said softly. ''Mea culpa. Had it not been for me, my dearest Rhiannon would not have been hurt, would not have suffered so terribly.'' 

Forbes grimaced. ''Allow me to quote you, my child - Rot! Utter nonsense!'' She patted Lina's clasped hands. ''Rhiannon is a grown woman. Having lived with you this past year, I've no doubt she fully understands the dangerous situations you are sometimes forced to deal with. As I did not see a gun to her head when the two of you visited my camp, I can only assume that she accompanied you willingly, knowing the risks but willing to accept them.'' 

Lina's eyes filled with tears. ''How can I face her?'' she moaned. ''How can I even touch her, knowing what she went through for my sake?'' 

''She needs you, Evie. Now more than ever. So stop all this self-indulgent behavior... yes, you heard me,'' the archaeologist said forcefully when Lina shook her head, ''I said self-indulgent. What happened, happened. Neither of you could have prevented it, therefore, all this guilt business is merely an exercise in your ridiculous need to be responsible for everything and everyone. Have you stopped to consider how Rhiannon must feel right now?'' 

''She must hate me,'' Lina said thickly. 

Exasperated, Forbes grabbed Lina's chin and forced her face around, staring angrily into her teary green eyes. ''You are impossible!,'' she retorted. ''Listen to me, Evie... Rhiannon is old enough to make her own decisions. You do not own her. She is her own woman; a beautiful, intelligent woman who, through some miracle, has chosen you as her lover and mate. How can you sit there and tell me she hates you? Child, she loves you; even an old warhorse like myself can see that. Every time she looks at you, she practically glows. Now, stop all this nonsense at once! Victoire is in prison in Cairo, where she will remain for the rest of her miserable life; Patterson is dead. There is nothing for you to feel guilty about! Not only did you make the archaeological find of the century, but you solved not one, but two mysteries, broke up a smuggling ring, stopped the career of a master criminal and you have the gall to sit there and feel guilty? Feh!'' 

Lina had listened to this speech and sat quietly for a moment. ''True,'' she replied slowly, ''We accomplished a great deal. But I tell you, Prickles, I would gladly turn back the clock and allow Victoire to continue her career unchecked if I could save Rhiannon from all that pain.'' 

Forbes sighed. ''Regret is all very well and good, Evie, but you need to remember something. At the moment, Rhiannon doesn't need a self-flagellating, mooning idiot; she needs a strong, supportive wife. Honestly, you are quite the most selfish person I know.'' 

These words stung and Lina opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again with she realized that her former teacher was correct. She had been acting the perfect fool, wallowing in misplaced guilt when her beloved Rhiannon needed her. Suddenly, it was as if the invisible but tight chains that had been wrapped around her heart loosened; she felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off her and she took a deep breath. 

''You are right,'' Lina said, looking down at her hands then back at Forbes. ''She needs me.'' She sighed. ''I would still like to kill Victoire for what she did, Prickles, but... well, why continue to allow that bitch to harm me and mine?'' 

Forbes smiled, her eyes crinkling up in a nest of wrinkles. ''Brava!'' she said. ''Finally, you get the point! I was beginning to think you'd gone thick on me, Evie. Let Victoire go; don't continue to carry her around on your back like a bloody hundred-pound burden. She is being adequately punished for her crimes; no need to punish yourself, too.'' 

Forbes released Lina's shoulder and stood, nudging the other woman's leg with her foot. ''Now get up and go to your wife, young idiot! She requires a great deal of care at the moment, and while you've been indulging yourself, she's been all alone.'' 

Lina rose hastily. ''I am going,'' she said, hesitating. Finally, she wrapped her arms around the startled Forbes and hugged her tightly. ''Thank you, Angelica,'' the peer said, then released the archaeologist and hastened away in the direction of Rhiannon's tent. 

Forbes sighed and watched her go, then sat back down again to poke moodily at the remains of the fire with a stick. She pulled the bow-and-arrow necklace from beneath her shirt and stared at it in silence a long while, turning it over in her hands, whispering once in a tone of deepest sorrow, ''Diana, my lost love. Where are you when I need you, hmmm?'' 
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

"Rhiannon?'' 

Lina entered the tent and saw her wife laying in bed, the tracks of tears on her cheeks. ''Oh, my dear!'' she breathed, hurrying over to sink down on the edge of the bed. Her hands gently grasped Rhiannon's shoulders. ''What is it? Are you in pain? Wait - I will fetch the doctor.'' 

She started to rise but was interrupted by Rhiannon's strangled, ''No!'' 

Sitting back down, Lina looked into her lover's face. Both of Rhiannon's eyes were blackened, her nose swollen but less than it had been; the doctor had set the break but for the rest of her life her nose would be ever so slightly askew. ''What is it, my dear?'' the peer repeated. 

Rhiannon heaved for breath, struggling against the gnawing pain in her heart. She finally managed to gasp out, ''Hold me,'' and whimpered, waiting for the rejection she felt was inevitable. 

Lina carefully slid into the bed and gathered Rhiannon against her, cradling the other woman gently. To her astonishment and shock, Rhiannon clutched her desperately and burst into tears. 

''What is wrong, my dear?,'' Lina asked, smoothing Rhiannon's back with one hand. ''Tell me.'' 

''I... I... I thought you hated me,'' Rhiannon sobbed. 

Lina's eyes widened. ''Hated you? Why on earth should I...'' She stopped speaking and gathered her lover closer, resting her chin on the top of Rhiannon's head. ''No, my dear. I love you. I will always love you.'' Lina realized that her abrupt departure earlier must have made her now fragile love feel rejected. ''I am so very dreadfully sorry. I did not mean to hurt you before.'' 

The feeling of the strong arms she loved holding her closely, the heartbeat throbbing beneath her ear, the familiar scent of her wife made Rhiannon cry even harder, but this time in relief. ''I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me... b-b-because of what they did...,'' she gasped. 

Lina said hastily, ''Oh, no, my dear! Not at all! Please don't cry.'' The peer was close to tears herself. ''I love you, Rhiannon. Nothing will change that. Nothing.'' 

Rhiannon cried a bit more while Lina held her, rubbing her back and rocking her gently. Finally, the storm abated somewhat, and Rhiannon looked up, snuffling. ''I could endure what they did to me, love; I just couldn't stand the thought of losing you. I thought you considered me - well, damaged goods, so to speak.'' 

Lina pulled out a handkerchief and carefully wiped the other woman's face, then held it so she could blow her nose. ''Not at all!'' she said vehemently. ''I have been whipping myself over what happened, my dear. I felt it was my fault entirely and I have been struggling with a guilty conscience.'' 

Rhiannon's ice blue eyes were slightly bloodshot. ''But why?'' she asked, wincing a little at the pain of her swollen nose. ''There was nothing you could do.'' 

''I know.'' Lina tossed the handkerchief down and stroked Rhiannon's hair. ''But I felt to blame for allowing you to be caught in all this mess.'' When her wife opened her mouth to protest, Lina continued hastily, ''But I see now that I was behaving like an ass. As usual.'' 

Rhiannon smiled slightly. ''Well, I love you anyway,'' she said, snuggling her head into the crook of Lina's shoulder. ''Tell me about it.'' 

Lina gave her wife an account of Prickle's conversation with her, then added, ''And she was right, you know. I was behaving with appalling selfishness. Mind you, if she hadn't stopped me, I would have killed Victoire without mercy and considered it a job well done.'' 

Rhiannon sighed. ''Love,'' she said, ''Believe me. I had far worse happen to me when I was a prostitute in Whitechapel. Some of my gentlemen clients had... hmmm... exotic tastes. I tried to avoid them when I could, but it's hard to tell sometimes, and once they've gotten you at their mercy... complaining to the police would have been futile. I learned how to endure damned near anything. I was terrified that Victoire might torture you; that would have been beyond my ability to handle.'' 

Lina was startled. ''My dear,'' she said, ''do you mean to suggest that you deliberately endured all that, just to spare me?'' 

''Well....'' Rhiannon considered. ''There are certain things a lady learns on the streets. I could tell Patterson was a twisted little bastard; Victoire was beyond insane. But I know a trick or two that might have put them off me; after all, I could have pretended to lose consciousness or screamed incessantly at the top of my lungs or just flopped around like a wet fish or something, or pissed myself. That sort is easily bored.'' She tightened her grip around Lina's waist. ''I stayed conscious as long as possible, and resisted, too, knowing they'd find it a challenge. I hoped they'd be sated with me and leave you alone.'' 

Lina gulped. She'd always thought of Rhiannon as fragile, delicate... but this small woman had a soul of cut-steel. ''I...'' Lina swallowed again. ''My dear, I... I don't know what to say.'' 

Rhiannon kissed the side of Lina's neck. ''It's all right, love. They hurt me, true. But I'll heal. As long as you're with me, I'll heal and I'll be just fine. They couldn't touch my soul, Lina, just my body. And my nose,'' she added, gingerly touching the object in question and grimacing. 

Lina bent her head and gently kissed Rhiannon on the mouth. ''And here I have been, flogging myself over my inability to protect you, when all the while you were protecting me.'' Her emerald green eyes gazed into Rhiannon's pale blue. ''I do not know what aspect of Providence sent you to me, my dear, when I do not deserve you in the least. But I thank God for you all the same.'' 

They held one another, basking in closeness and warmth. Rhiannon did not feel quite as casual about her ordeal as she had pretended to be, but knowing of Lina's propensity for self-recrimination, had sternly decided to conceal just how deeply she had been scarred. 

After all, she said to herself, comforted by Lina's presence, I'm alive, my body will heal, and as long as I have Lina's love I'll be just fine.

Rhiannon said softly, ''Now, why don't you tell me what happened after I fainted?'' 

''That is a tale indeed,'' said a familiar voice. Both women looked up to see the robe-clad figure of Sherlock Holmes as he strode into the tent. 
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Holmes grinned hugely. ''I am gratified to see that you have somewhat recovered, Miss Rhiannon,'' he said, sinking gracefully down to sit cross-legged on the floor. 

''Hello, Holmes,' Rhiannon replied, smiling at the detective. ''I was just asking Lina what happened.'' 

Lina flushed. ''Do not listen to a word that man says, my dear,'' she said. ''He has blown the entire story far out of proportion.'' 

Forbes sauntered into the tent. ''I hardly see how you can refute a pair of eyewitnesses, Evie,'' she said, sitting down next to Holmes and offering him a hand-rolled cigarette. 

The detective put the cigarette into the corner of his mouth and struck a lucifer, lighting both his own and Forbes'. ''Thank you, Angelica,'' he said, ''Now then. Shall I begin the tale or do you wish to?'' 

Forbes considered. ''Perhaps you should begin, Sherlock,'' she replied. ''I will sit here and be awed by your dramatic recital.'' Her light brown eyes twinkled. 

Holmes shot the archaeologist an amused glance, then took a deep drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke at the ceiling. ''When I induced Lady Lina into an argument on the Mirror of Hathor, I was playing a role. It was my intention to throw her off her guard as regards myself, thus leaving me free to follow the two of you discreetly. I had no intention of returning to England until I was certain you were out of danger.'' 

''So you really weren't angry?'' Rhiannon asked. 

''Not at all. I knew how my pupil would react upon being commanded so peremptorily; you are entirely too easy to manipulate, my dear Lina.'' The saturnine detective removed the blue turban that perched on his head and scratched his sweaty hair, ignoring the mock threatening fist which Lina shook in his direction. ''At any rate, having successfully implemented my plan, I then began to follow the two of you, keeping close yet making sure my presence went undetected.'' 

''Everywhere?'' Rhiannon opened her eyes as wide as she could and blushed, thinking of that romantic evening in the desert when she danced for Lina's pleasure. 

Holmes cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed. ''Yes, everywhere,'' he said, continuing hastily, ''I was, of course, er... discreet in my observations.'' 

Of course, he had not been; in fact, one of the worst moments of Holmes' life had come when, perched on a dune beneath the velvety night sky, he had watched the two women making love, and in that second, realized fully and completely how futile his dreams were regarding his cherished Lina. Jealousy, hopelessness and sheer loneliness had threatened to overwhelm him; he had mastered himself only by the greatest effort. This was why his assailants had had no difficulty in sneaking up on him. 

He realized the three women were staring at him and cleared his throat again. ''When the two of you were in the tent, I was attacked from behind and struck unconscious, then carried away into the desert. I awoke to find myself in a Bedouin camp; the camp we are currently visiting, in fact.'' 

Rhiannon looked confused. ''But why would they help us?'' she asked. ''We are strangers to them, after all.'' 

A new voice joined the group. ''Ah, but one of you is not,'' it said. 

A man came into the tent, also dressed as a Bedouin in a loose robe and blue turban. He had the golden skin and dark blue eyes that marked him as a nomadic tribesman, but he had spoken with an distinctive Oxford accent. He stopped and stood, clearly waiting. 

''Miss Rhiannon, allow me to present Prince Feisal Hassan, also known as the Haj when he and I were up at Oxford together,'' Holmes said with a smile. ''Haj, old boy, I have the distinct honor of presenting Miss Rhiannon Moore, now conscious and better able to appreciate your hospitality.'' 

''I am most honored,'' the Haj said, placing one hand on his heart and bowing. ''My good friend El Halif has told me much about you. My tent, my horse, my sword is yours.'' 

Rhiannon smiled. ''Thank you, Your Highness,'' she replied. 

''Please, dear lady,'' the Haj said, waving his hand, ''no formality. Your friends, including the most lovely Lady Lina, call me Haj or Feisal. I insist you do the same.'' He gathered the billowing folds of his robe together and sank down onto the carpeted floor. ''Now,'' he said, ''what are you all doing in here? It looks like a tribal gathering.'' 

Forbes grabbed a brass dish from a nearby low table and crushed her cigarette out. ''We are telling Rhiannon what happened, oh Sayyid,'' she said. 

Lina murmured in Rhiannon's ear, ''A sayyid is the chief or leader of the tribe. Feisal has recently inherited the throne, so to speak, from his father.'' 

Rhiannon nodded against Lina's shoulder as the Haj grinned and said, ''And you had gotten to the stupidity of my men, eh, Halif?'' 

Holmes nodded. ''Yes, so why do you not make an explanation of how I got here and why.'' 

''I shall.'' The Haj fixed Rhiannon with his wondrously blue eyes. ''I had heard my good friend the Halif was in the desert country, so I sent some of my men to look for him and invite him here. Unfortunately, they misunderstood, believing I was ordering a kidnapping.'' The prince sighed. ''They were some of my father's older men and I have no doubt they deliberately closed their ears to my meaning. I have had some trouble with them before; they resent me for my relative youth and education.'' 

''At any rate,'' Holmes said, picking up the story, ''When I saw the Haj, I knew I was in safe hands and made my explanations. He generously offered me transportation back to the Mirror and sent along some of his more trustworthy men to accompany me. When I returned to the boat, I realized you and Lina were gone; it took a little while to trace your movements and by then you had already been captured by Victoire.'' 

Forbes began to speak. ''I was faking the depth of my injuries,'' she said. ''As soon as Victoire and her men were distracted by the entrance of you two, I made my escape. I was hoping to reach the boat before it sailed and get reinforcements, but I was too late. My next course of action was to make all haste to Abydos and gather up my own men, but I admit I didn't like the idea of leaving you two in Victoire's clutches for any length of time. I was just about to go back and start some sort of diversion when who should appear but Sherlock Holmes, backed by a horde of horsebacked nomads.'' 

Taking up the thread, Holmes continued, ''When Angelica told me what was happening in the underground cavern, I knew I must effect a rescue and quickly. However, it took time to get my men into position. My plan was to cause the Egyptian guards to discharge their firearms and waste their ammunition without any of my own men being wounded. Leaving the oldest of them in charge, I went down into the cave myself, both to appraise the situation and, if possible, let you know what was going on. You know the rest.'' 

''And after?'' Rhiannon asked, ignoring Lina's warning squeeze. ''What happened after I collapsed?'' 

There was a general clearing of throats and everyone eyed everybody else. Lina glared at the assemblage equally. 

Finally, Forbes spoke up. ''You don't frighten me, Lina,'' she said firmly, ''so you might as well put away those ocular daggers. She deserves to know what happened. All of it.'' 

Lina closed her eyes as Rhiannon looked at her anxiously; then she opened her eyes and nodded, avoiding her lover's gaze.

CHAPTER FORTY

Forbes told the rest of the tale. ''When you fainted, Miss Rhiannon, Evie was beside herself. She was practically convinced you were going to die, and I'll admit, I thought the same thing myself. Some of your, er, internal injuries seemed more serious at the time than they actually turned out to be, but you had lost a great deal of blood.'' 

Rhiannon nodded, still watching Lina's face. 

Forbes continued, ''I examined you and recommended a doctor be fetched immediately, although from where, I hadn't a clue. One of Sherlock's nomads had a medical kit of sorts in his saddlebag, and so I began assessing your injuries and bandaging where required. It was decided to rig a horse litter and carry you at all speed back to Feisal's camp.'' 

Lina listened, trying to control her emotions. She had thought Rhiannon dead or dying; her soul had shriveled in the white-hot blast of pure rage that had accompanied that near unthinkable belief. 

''The two with the fastest horses were dispatched with you, accompanied by several more to act as guards. Then...'' Forbes hesitated, rubbing her spiky rust orange hair with one hand, then continued, ''Then Evie went to Victoire, who by now was conscious. 

''We had taken the precaution of binding her hand and foot. I hadn't an inkling that anything was wrong until I heard this peculiar gasping choke. When I turned around, I saw that Evie had rolled Victoire over on her back and had her foot on the woman's throat. She was pressing down, slowly - watching and laughing while Victoire turned purple.'' 

There was silence for a moment as Lina closed her eyes again, her heart thumping in her chest. She was ashamed; not for trying to kill Victoire - no, the vow she had made she would stand by - but for her method. If she had slit the woman's throat, she would have felt not an ounce of guilt or remorse. But taking pleasure in another's suffering... It makes me just as bad as she, Lina thought. 

The peer's melancholy thoughts were interrupted by Rhiannon, who said fiercely, ''Good!'' 

Lina's eyes flew open and she stared at her lover, who wore a bloodthirsty expression. ''If I'd been there,'' Rhiannon continued, ''I'd have helped you!'' 

Forbes chuckled at the shocked look on Lina's face. ''See, I told you, Evie. Your little one is about as soft as a Damascus blade. Well, Miss Rhiannon, I simply couldn't let Evie continue, no matter how much I'd have liked to. You know our girl; she'd have been eaten alive by guilt and all that nonsense, and we'd have had the Devil's own time convincing her to stop brooding about and getting on with her life.'' 

Despite her good humor, Forbes winced slightly, remembering how she'd had to literally wrestle the taller woman to the ground to stop her from murdering Victoire in cold blood; how Evie had screamed and ranted for what seemed hours after that before a nomad had returned bearing the good news that Rhiannon was not only alive, but would be all right. 

Rhiannon giggled softly. ''That's so true!'' she said, kissing Lina's ear. ''Love, don't be ashamed for what you did... I mean it! I'm only sorry you didn't finish her off when you had the chance.'' 

Lina returned her wife's smile tentatively, and the smile grew wider when Rhiannon squeezed her hand and said, ''Truly, I adore you even more, love. I  probably would have done a lot worse if I thought she was responsible for your death.'' 

Lina relaxed. ''Well, perhaps we can say that I was not quite in my right mind at that particular moment,'' she said. ''However, I assure you that having gained your unequivocal approval, in the future I shall deal with all my enemies thusly.'' 

Rhiannon laughed, saying, ''Ouch!'' when the movement made her bruises and cuts twinge. ''All right, that's enough of that. So I assume that Victoire was dealt with in a lawful manner?'' 

Holmes spoke. ''Haj, at my request, sent one of his men to Cairo with a note for the authorities. Miss Victoire Rousseau is currently dwelling at Her Majesty's expense in a heavily guarded cell at the British Consulate, pending the decision of the court as to which country will try her for her crimes. I've no doubt she will either hang or rot; in either event, she will trouble the two of you no more.'' 

Forbes asked, ''And what of Professor Moriarty? Will you be continuing your case against him, Sherlock?'' 

The detective nodded. ''For the remainder of my life, if need be.'' He rose, stretching. ''And now, ladies, we shall leave you to rest. Haj has kindly invited us to a feast tonight, and even now the fatted lambs are roasting. I, for one, am going to drink some palm wine and discuss cricket with Haj. Coming, old boy?'' he asked. 

The prince rose as well. ''Please, you are to consider yourselves my guests,'' he said to Lina and Rhiannon. ''Stay as long as you like; you honor my tribe with your presence. If you require anything, you have only to ask.'' Taking Holmes arm, he walked out of the tent, his bearing immensely dignified, robes fluttering around his feet. 

Forbes got up and placing one hand on the small of her back, bent over backwards until the vertebrae of her spine popped loudly. ''Children,'' she said, straightening up with a grunt, ''I'm getting far too old to perch comfortably on carpets. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll seek out Solange, who is, I believe, keeping an eye on Fyvie. Your wolfhound is the hit of the younger population, Miss Rhiannon. Even as we speak, she is chasing and being chased and generally causing chaos and havoc and much giggling. Good afternoon, ladies.'' 

The archaeologist left as well, leaving Lina and Rhiannon alone. 
 

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Rhiannon said, ''I'm getting a little warm, love. Can we dispense with the blanket?'' 

Lina drew off the covering, leaving it in a heap on the floor, then lay back down and turning on her side, gathered Rhiannon close again, careful of the other woman's injuries and the painful pulling in her own side. ''Better?'' she asked. 

''Much.'' Rhiannon breathed in Lina's scent, completely content just to lay there with her beloved. ''What about the treasure?'' she said. ''What's going to happen to it?'' 

Lina gently rubbed her wife's back. ''Prickles, Holmes and I discussed it. While it would be a great archaeological find, we feel that the circumstances surrounding it would be considered far to coincidental to satisfy the authorities. I am already in a somewhat delicate position as regards the statue and could do without further official inquiry. The entrance to the tomb was sealed by Prickles, using the dynamite which Victoire so thoughtfully provided.'' 

''Where is my statue?'' Rhiannon asked, her own hands flat against Lina's shoulderblades, feeling the seemingly delicate wing-like bones through her lover's shirt and wishing she weren't wearing one at all; she wanted to feel her, flesh to flesh, warmth to warmth, and know that she was real and alive. 

''It is here, my dear. I have kept it concealed but rest assured, we shall have it when we return to England.'' 

''When are we leaving?'' 

''In a few days. Prickles helped me arrange for a dahabeeyah, or private sailboat, to take us back up the Nile to Cairo. I am sorry we cannot complete our tour, but I feel it best to return as quickly as possible to England; I am not sure I entirely trust Feisal's doctor and I want you to be seen to by a British surgeon. Besides, you will recover more rapidly at home.'' 

Rhiannon laughed softly. ''Yes, I'm sure Cook will slave in the kitchen, making delicacies like calf's hoof jellies and the like, to tempt my appetite. It's a good thing I do daily practice with the staff and with your baritsu instructor, otherwise I'd be too fat to do more than waddle behind you.'' 

Lina kissed Rhiannon's lips, murmuring, ''I would love you anyway, my dear.'' 

Rhiannon sobered and gazed deeply into Lina's eyes. ''I really would have killed Victoire, with my own hands if necessary, if she'd hurt you.'' 

''I know, my dear. I know.'' Lina nestled her cheek against Rhiannon's and continued, ''Now perhaps you have an understanding of the way I feel when you are in danger. I go mad; I want to do nothing more than rend and tear my way to your side. The very thought of you being harmed is more than enough to arouse my fury; if Victoire had succeeded in killing you, even Holmes would not have been able to stop me.'' 

''But you'll still honor our agreement?'' Rhiannon asked, moving her hands to Lina's shirt buttons and unfastening them one by one. 

''Yes,'' Lina sighed. ''I can do no less, my dear. You are, as Prickles has so firmly reminded me, your own woman. I will not cease to try and protect you; that is both my duty and my pleasure as your loving spouse. However,'' she said, sitting up a bit and peeling off her shirt, then laying back down again, ''I will not keep you caged. I was wrong to try and curtail your freedom, my dear. I will never do so again.'' 

Rhiannon snuggled her face into the valley of Lina's firm breasts and sighed contentedly, wrapping her arms around the other woman's body. ''Good. And I'll keep my word, too. I'll listen to you when we get into dangerous situations, but as long as you trust me to take care of myself, we'll be all right.'' 

Lina smiled to feel the soft exhalations of Rhiannon's breath caress her skin. ''Yes, my dear. We will.'' 

They fell asleep, holding one another close, healing one another with the simple balm of each other's presence. And Forbes, tip-toeing in later to see if they needed anything, gazed for a long moment at the lovers and covered them with a blanket before quietly slipping away. 

Later that evening, when Rhiannon and Lina reclined on a nest of cushions before a roaring fire and watched some of the Bedouin men dancing with swords, Forbes approached, a plate in her hand. 

''Wonderful party,'' the archaeologist said, sitting down and leaning against a padded saddle. ''This lamb is spectacular.'' She nibbled a moment, then swallowed and continued, ''By the by, Evie, I did take something from that tomb before I dynamited it shut.'' 

Lina, her arm around Rhiannon's shoulders, chuckled. ''I thought you might,'' she said. ''No one could have resisted the temptation. Let us have it, Prickles. What object d'art did you find irresistible?'' 

Forbes grinned. ''No treasure of silver, gold or electrum could tempt me enough, Evie. However... knowledge might, and did.'' 

''What do you mean?'' Rhiannon asked, idly toying with a lock of Lina's dark hair. 

''Oh, I found a little something when I was poking about.'' Forbes light brown eyes twinkled. 

''Out with it, Prickles!'' Lina exclaimed in mock anger. ''Cease your teasing and tell!'' 

Forbes pulled a long, thin alabaster box from her shirt. It had been carved to resemble a bundle of lotus blossoms. Removing the top, she withdrew a rolled papyrus. ''This,'' she said, waving the scroll gently. ''I took the liberty of translating it this afternoon when the two of you were napping. Or, at least, I hope you were napping.'' She smiled mischievously and ducked when Lina threw an orange peel at her head. 

''What does it say?'' Rhiannon said, suddenly excited. ''Is it more about Kleopatra?'' 

''In a manner of speaking.'' Forbes unrolled the scroll and squinted down at it. ''This is a burial scroll, children. A confession, actually. Written in the hand of Kleopatra herself.'' 

As Lina and Rhiannon listened intently, Forbes recited the story of the scroll, the crackling of the fire and the muted shouts of the Bedouin adding an exotic atmosphere to the telling of the ancient, mysterious tale. 
 

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Know that I, Kleopatra VII, descended from the mighty pharaoh, Alexander's general Ptolemy, and the last of the Ptolemy blood to rule Egypt, hereby set down these words so that you, traveler, will know the truth of my life and death. 

After my escape from Alexandria, aided by the Amazon warrior and her kinswoman, I and my children settled in a small village outside of Abydos, where the tombs of those who came before us were guarded by the Priests of Anubis. None knew my identity; I was known as Asiyyah, former handmaiden to the Queen, for even as my soul-beloved had given her life and name for me, even so did I take her own in honor of her great sacrifice. 

The years passed, my children grew and soon forget the splendor of the court, for they were young and absorbed themselves in their new lives. I, too, sometimes forgot that I had been a Queen and ruled over the mightiest country of any, save Rome. 

From time to time I received such news and monies as could be conveyed to me, mostly from the hand of the Chief Priest of Anubis, who continued to protect me throughout his life. Upon his death, I wept, for I considered that I had lost an old friend; my children gazed upon me strangely, wondering why I shed my tears for a stranger and a priest, at that. 

I never again saw the Blessed Amazons again, for they returned to their own land after seeing me settled in Abydos. As my children grew and married, and had children of their own, my face grew wrinkled, my hands gnarled, my belly and breasts sagged with age, and I knew the time would shortly come when I would travel to the Western Lands and my heart judged against a feather to weigh my deeds. A plan had come to me long ago and I knew it must be fulfilled before my death. 

Although the old priest was dead, his son, now an old man himself, ruled over the Temple of Anubis. He came to see me at my summons, a privilege I had never before used. He arrived hastily in the middle of the night, and entered the small house where I had spent so many of my years. 

''What is it you wish of your servant, Oh Queen?'' he asked humbly, casting his eyes down. 

I smiled, for it had been a long time indeed since any had addressed me thus or shown such respect. ''I am dying, holy one.'' I silenced his protests with a hand. ''I am old and have done much; I do not regret my death or fear it. But there is something I must do before my time comes and I require your help.'' 

I explained my plan to the priest, who agreed, for he had heard the entire story from his father; he knew it was necessary to honor and reward the two responsible for my life. 

Now, I lay on my deathbed and write these words with a hand that is steady, for it is my heart that trembles. The tomb has been prepared; I will go into death as Asiyyah, a handmaiden and priestess, and pray the gods will know me by the aspect of my souls. The secret chamber, filled with treasure, has been sealed; the slaves who built it at the priest's direction have been slain, as customary. 

The Beloved-of-Anubis has dispatched a messenger bearing the statue to Greece; it is my hope that if the Amazons who aided me are no longer alive, then their children are, and their descendants may partake of the treasures of my house that I have put aside for them in thanks for their bravery. Surely even the children of the such cunning warriors will be able to decipher my secret; if not, then their reward will await the one who is. 

These are the final words of Kleopatra VII, former Queen of Egypt, last of the Ptolemies. If you are a thief, then may the gods damn you for eternity and may vultures gnaw upon your immortal soul as it wails, lost in darkness. If you are of the Amazon nation, then may you receive the blessing of a grateful queen, and may the gods smile upon you in everlasting peace. 

Forbes allowed the papyrus to roll back up. ''There is a postscript at the bottom from the aforementioned priest; the messenger was murdered in Greece,and the statue disappeared. Kleopatra had died by this time; I believe he feared his queen's wrath and wrote this explanation in order to appease her in the underworld.'' 

Lina shook her head. ''I wonder if the Amazons knew about the treasure... is there any further mention of them?'' 

''Not one.'' Forbes replied. ''At least we know who is buried in the tomb. And that the Amazons were real, not mythological figures as the so-called scholars claim. I hold the proof in my hand!'' 

'Rhiannon said. ''Kleopatra must have loved Asiyyah very much.'' 

Lina raised Rhiannon's hand to her lips and kissed it. ''Not nearly as much as I love you,'' she said. 

They stared at one another until Forbes cleared her throat loudly. ''All right, enough of that, you two! Good Lord, I am beginning to sicken from all of this sweetness and light.'' 

Lina and Rhiannon laughed. ''My dear Prickles,'' Lina said finally, ''We must play matchmaker and find you your own wife. Then, perhaps, you will not be so critical of others.'' 

Forbes raised both hands in a gesture of mock horror. ''Not on my life!'' she cried. ''I am very happy with my bachelor's existence, thank you very much. Besides, how many women do you know who would be content to live in a tent with a grumpy archaeologist day in and day out?'' 

Rhiannon's pale blue eyes glinted with humor. ''Oh... is that your only criteria?,'' she asked. 

Forbes bit her lip, then gave the strawberry blonde a silly cross-eyed look, a parody of a lover's moon-eyed gaze. ''Indeed, my dear,'' she drawled in a dead-on imitation of Lina, ''my criteria are such that none could possibly fulfill it but you.'' She winked outrageously, then gathered up her plate and the alabaster box and wandered away, accompanied by Lina's snorts and Rhiannon's laughter. 

The moon rose high, a silvery goddess accompanied by her handmaids, the stars, and her light cascaded over the swelling dunes and the whispering sands as another night passed in eternal Egypt. 

THE END

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