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prayers.”
    We walked through the columned passageway to the edge of the courtyard. Standing side by side, we looked out at the great crowd of Siptah’s colleagues who were walking about.
    “My brothers,” Siptah shouted in a voice so loud that all could hear. “I can see! I can see! Tuya has healed me.”
    All noise in the courtyard ceased as the priests, now still as statues, looked at us. Menna approached and broke the silence. “I am in awe,” he said to me. “I confess that at first I questioned your power, but now no one can doubt you.”
    “Some always will doubt,” I replied, recalling the words Maya had spoken to me that morning. I turned to Siptah. “Rest your eyes, and don’t venture into the bright sunlight for several days.”
    “How can I ever repay you?” he asked.
    “Perform oblations to Isis after you pray to Ptah. That will be payment enough.”
    “I will do so each day for the rest of my life, and beyond,” he promised.
    “It is not safe for you to return home by yourself at dusk,” Menna said. “I would be honored if you allow me to accompany you.”
    “You may do so,” I told him.
    Menna and I retraced our steps across the courtyard, but this time I led the way. Once again the priests stared at me, only now each bowed his head as I passed by.

V
    With the healing of the blind priest, doubters became believers and people began seeking me out. If it weren’t for my parents’ turning away most of those who approached our house I would have been overwhelmed by requests from the ill and infirm to use my healing ability.
    I certainly wasn’t the only healer in Memphis to whom people went for help. Indeed, there were quite a number. An old woman just up the river from the city had achieved great fame for her healing knowledge and skills. Aunt Sitra went to her when she was barren, and soon after conceived my cousin Rahotep. Priests and priestesses at the temple performed healing rituals as well, as did physicians, who also set bones, prescribed tonics and sewed up wounds.
    Maya, however, told me a great number of people thought I was a healer of a higher order.
    “You speak with Isis,” she said. “Other healers have considerable abilities, but the people know the Queen of the Heavens’ love flows through you.”
    In the next two years I saw perhaps three-hundred people, though many times that number sought my assistance. Those my parents allowed through the gate were among the well-connected whose rank in society equaled or exceeded our own.
    Most of those I ministered to improved at least a bit, and with more than half I achieved great success. I restored movement of limbs and caused tumors to vanish. In one instance, I removed the demons from a woman who had tried to kill her husband and children. Still, I wasn’t able to help everyone, which caused me great distress.
    “Why does Isis allow me to heal some people but not others?” I asked Maya one day. “Last month, I healed ulcers on a man’s leg, yet I couldn’t help his young son who suffered terribly from trouble in the bowels. The child died within days after I saw him.”
    “Sometimes people aren’t meant to be healed,” Maya said. “They come to the earthly realm for a purpose. When they’ve fulfilled the purpose, it’s time for their souls to be released.”
    “But the boy was so young.” I continued. “He didn’t have time to fulfill his purpose.”
    “How do you know? He may have entered the earthly realm with the understanding he would die after but a few years so that his parents might advance their souls by loving him, but also by learning how to accept death. The mysteries of the Divine Pageant are many, Tuya. Be content to know there are reasons for people to be healed, and there are reasons for people to die, though they may not be apparent to you.”
    “I don’t know, Maya. Dying young seems like such a tragedy.”
    “A tragedy for whom? For those who die or those who live? I’ve heard people