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bead under the glaze had a partial hieroglyphic on one side and a raised, snakelike design on the other, with two tiny enameled flowers flanking the reptile’s head. “Nothing I recognize. Renenutet, the snake goddess, maybe? These resemble mountain flowers, so maybe a local deity related to the supreme snake goddess?”
    “Who can say? I believe this bead was part of a longer necklace at some time. I think my mother kept it from her happier days in the temple. When I was a baby, she gave it to me as an amulet, but she never uttered the name of the Great One. She told me it might bring the goddess to me   in a time of need, but only once, so I wasn’t to use the gift lightly. When she was banished from the ranks of temple dancers, she apparently begged, not for herself, but for this one future favor on my behalf.” Nima squinted at the bead for a moment, rotating it on the thong with her fingertips. “Amarkash said it was worthless clay, so he left it alone.” She tapped the snake with one fingernail. “The amulet’s never brought me luck. It’s never brought me anything but comfort in the knowledge my mother loved me. Certainly no goddess came to help when the Hyksos captured me.” Eyes cast down, she blinked away a tear. “I don’t even know who my father was. Some rich and careless noble who abandoned her is what the troupe members told me, but I don’t know the truth.”
    A bleak tale. My own family   frustrates me at times, but at least we know we belong to each other. And I resemble my father in all respects, gods grant he rests well in the Afterlife. Kamin assessed Nima’s condition. She was still too pale, her body racked by occasional tremors, eyes unseeing. Time for more distracting conversation. “But you refer to the performers as your family?”
    “My mother was a trained temple dancer, so after she was banished, she sought to make her living in the taverns, and this troupe took her—us—in.” Nima shrugged. “I was just a baby, so I don’t remember our life before we joined Dudekh and Gamisis and their players.”
    “When you started dancing the other night, at the Hyksos camp, I was sure you must be a temple dancer,” he told her. “You had the classical movements perfectly.”
    Her blush was enchanting, color flowing into her pale cheeks. “Thank you. Serving a goddess by dancing for her pleasure, living safe and secure in a temple, would be a dream, but I perform in the taverns and street fairs instead.” Nima put her head against his shoulder. “My mother drowned in the Nile when I was seven. I’ve always wondered if she walked to the riverbank planning to die. She was so unhappy.”
    “But the performers gave you a home?” He tried to keep doubt out of his tone. Such people are not known for their charity. And they don’t extend themselves to outsiders without good reason.
    Her next words confirmed his opinion. “Not out of true kindness. I dance better than any of them, and they know it.” A strong note of pride rang in her voice. “I inherited my mother’s gift, and she trained me intensively before she died. The noble who hired the troupe on the night of the Hyksos’s attack was probably angry I didn’t come. Dudekh would insist I couldn’t be hired separately. The whole family had to be employed.”
    “So they used you as bait to line their pockets?” What a life of drudgery and sadness she’s had.
    “Yes.” She sighed. “As I got older and stopped seeing through a child’s eyes, I realized they were not nice people.”
      “You said they taught you to throw knives?”
    “And brew poisons and potions, cheat at senet, pick pockets—” Counting the skills off on her fingers, she enumerated the unusual list wryly.
      She had a triumphant little grin on her face. Gods, I want to kiss her. Her lips fascinate me, but now is not the time.
    Apparently unaware of his inner struggle over his body’s reaction to her, Nima snuggled closer.  
    “And I’m