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while beforeinforming him that no, I did not expect him to assume formal evening wear, but that he might at least change his shirt and brush his hair. He did so without further argument, humming cheerfully and tunelessly. I supposed the song was one of his favorite vulgar music-hall ditties, but no one could have recognized the melody. I knew why he was in such a pleasant frame of mind. Emerson enjoys adventure for its own sake, and his archaeological brain was all afire at the prospect of examining again the unique monuments of the Lost Oasis--a culture frozen in time, so to speak, for it had had almost no contact with the outside world since the fourth century A.D., when refugees from the fallen capital of Meroe found their way there, joining earlier immigrants from the late dynasties of ancient Egypt. Furthermore, Merasen's proposal had relieved Emerson of the necessity of settling on an excavation site for the coming year--and it had put an end to Ramses's plan of spending the winter in Germany. I selected a rather becoming gown of my favorite crimson, for, to be honest, I needed to keep my own spirits up. No matter what precautions we took, the journey would be difficult and dangerous. And what would we find at the end of that journey? A dead child and a dying king--the end of a dynasty, with pretenders crawling round the bodies like flies? Even if we could make our way there without incident, our reception was in doubt. We too had broken the law of the Holy Mountain by the very act of leaving it--and we had stolen their revered High Priestess.
    TWO
    "What shall we do about David?" Ramses asked. The leaves outside the windows of his room dripped with water. Pale sunlight had replaced the misty rain of early morning. It was the first time we had had an opportunity to speak in private since the arrival of our strange visitor. Over the past two days I had become increasingly uneasy about him, and Ramses was the only member of the family who appeared to share my reservations. Nefret's warm heart had been won by the hope of helping her old friend and his child, and Emerson had yearned for years to return to the Holy Mountain. Now Emerson would get his wish. The expedition was a settled matter. It had never been in doubt, really. No matter how slim the chance of success, the attempt must be made. How could we, as Britons, do less? Noblesse oblige, and the debt we owed Tarek admitted of no other choice. That debt was visible to us daily: Nefret herself. Had it not been for Tarek's braving the long, perilous journey from the Holy Mountain, we would never have found her, and her own fate would have been dreadful. The women of the Holy Mountain, like those of ancient Egypt and Meroe, married and began bearing children when in their early teens. One of the men who had sought her hand was Tarek's brother, a thoroughly despicable individual who might well have succeeded in taking Tarek's throne and his life, and Nefret, hadwe not been present to defend our friend. She would have lived out her life as the unwilling but helpless wife of a cruel despot, instead of brightening ours. All the same, there were a good many complications that needed to be addressed, and Ramses was obviously the only other one who was capable of thinking sensibly about them. "David is only one of the many complications that need to be addressed," I said, and looked round for some flat surface on which I might seat myself. Rose had tidied the room that morning, but it was already in the state of utter confusion that prevails when Ramses is its occupant. Apparently he had rummaged through the bureau drawers and the wardrobe in order to find garments he considered comfortable. These consisted of a collar-less shirt that had seen better days and a pair of stained trousers I could have sworn I had directed Rose to throw away, since the stains would not come out. (I did not know what chemical substance had caused them and preferred not to ask.) The garments that had