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that she was Isis, in desperate propaganda. She worked very hard to make herself more than she was. She was able to raise her very own armies just by being Isis. Socrates said that the greatest way to live with honor in this world is to be what we pretend to be. He must have told that to her personally.”
    Phaedra looked into Mark’s eyes. “She haunts you.”
    “Now, maybe… and merely as a ghost. It’s unnerving when a goddess dies. Cleopatra is certainly dead by now—she didn’t win her war after all that effort. She’s not only dead but we got word she was allowed to mummify in the desert. A bizarre sad end for her. We shall see.”
    Phaedra frowned. “What a gruesome end.”
    Mark said, “Since Rome made such a fuss over that foreign civil war, she’s to be taken and propped up in Rome… put on display. Now dead, she’ll tour Rome from forum to forum. People always want a show. In the end, she’ll be used for Rome’s propaganda. Even as a mummy.”
    “By the gods so you’re really going to Egypt for a mummy?”
    “A very entertaining one—a mummy for a political road show. And Ptolemy will need threatened again too. Rome must keep its foot against his head.”
    Phaedra asked, “What if he chops your head off first?”
    Mark stiffened. “Why would you say that?”
    She shrugged. “Isn’t that what you all do to each other all the time?”
    He laughed as if it was a joke.
     
     
    Chapter six
     
     
    In the bathroom of the underground temple, Cleopatra soaked in a tub of snake’s blood. She complained to the high priestess, Iset, “Why am I in blood, and the blood of your magic snakes, at that? It’s too ghoulish!”
    “Hold still, you’ll splash it on me.” Iset glanced down at her own robe. “Lay still and let it soak in, for the magic to set.”
    Cleopatra stirred at it with her fingertips. “I know I’m not supposed to question you, but still.”
    Iset held her finger up. “This is war with your brother. This is all a part of a spell for your anima.”
    “My soul ?”
    Iset nodded. “Yes, anima, soul, your very breath.”
    Cleopatra frowned. “Alas, I do need a restorative. I was feeling so very weak. That’s not like me. I’m not young anymore. My bones hurt.”
    “Let your soul drink the blood.”
    Cleopatra asked, “But… isn’t the blood of these snakes used for a magic reflecting pool? That’s what I’d learned once from a scroll. What magic are we reflecting? Why am I here in the middle of it all? What’s going on?”
    “Calm down. The blood of my snakes has more than one magic. Only the surface gloss reflects. This magic spell is a deep river.” Iset frowned. “And of course it makes a bloody mess along the way.”
    Cleopatra coughed. “I need abundant magic about now. I was knocked out and I woke up worse than ever—I can’t even dream anymore. Will this help me dream again?”
    “You’ve been subjected to great evil from your brother. And the desert almost mummified you. But your magic is still strong where it matters, don’t worry. I’ll make sure it stays that way for as long as magically possible.”
    Cleopatra watched blood drip from between her own fingers. “No wonder I have no appetite. This is all so awful.”
    Iset swirled her hand in the air. “You will do what it takes.”
    “Why do you care who’s the puppet ruler of Egypt? Rome rules it now, anyway. That’s all that it must seem to you.”
    Iset answered, “It makes a great deal of difference to those in the streets of Cairo, Memphis and Thebes. When Alexander the Great kicked out the Persian occupiers, the Egyptian people saw him has a liberator. But that was then and now your brother has allowed the Egyptians to become a subjected people again. He doesn’t negotiate. Our army, merchants and nobleman, alike, are all slaves to Rome. But being so far from Rome it will soon tear Egypt apart.”
    “Why won’t he negotiate anything?”
    “He has nothing to seduce the Romans