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occa-sions he managed to snatch a few minutes for pure research.
    Abydan culture was a treasure trove for an Egyptolo-gist, ancient ways of life and thought perfectly pre-served like an insect in amber. Even more fascinating, if somewhat gruesome, were the ways of Ra’s empire. From the hidden histories and folk tales came tales of striking personalities-people who had been wor-shipped as gods. Some of the tales were nightmares, recollecting Ra’s cruelties or Hathor’s massacre. Some were garbled tales of great constructions raised, of battles between gods.
    Daniel found them all fascinating-when he could wedge a little space into his schedule. Unfortunately, his schedule generally seemed devoted to meetings to change the very culture he wanted to study.
    Like today, when I played glorified tour guide to General Close-to-the-vest West. Oh, he’d been there as Kasuf’s representative, to speak his piece for Nagada and Abydos. West had upped the ante a little, but not too much. Daniel feared there wouldn’t be enough to cushion the painful transition Abydos would have to make. The day had been a double waste-he’d been taken from things he could have done well to be virtually ineffective, telling West things he didn’t want to hear.
    Daniel was abruptly reminded of his student days, when the department head would shepherd well-heeled types through museum workshops to generate the wherewithal for another dig. That’s what he’d been doing today-playing administrator, the one job he’d always hated.
    He rounded a bend in the road and stopped short. Squatting against a wall, head lolling, was a man with a chipped pottery bowl in front of him. His eyes were closed, and insects crawled on his face.
    Some sixth sense warned the man of Daniel’s pres-ence. “Please, lord, spare a coin ...”
    Daniel hurried on. There never used to be beggars in Nagada. Families took care of their own. Or, he reflected with a chill, Horus guards disposed of indigents. Everywhere he looked, the old, pre-revolutionary society seemed to be breaking down. The malaise showed in the repairs made after the udajeet strafing attacks. The new buildings and patched walls were done in a slapdash manner. Why craft and carry bricks with pride after seeing the Earthlings’ machines move tons of dirt and sand?
    Daniel felt a stab of relief as he finally reached his home. Within the mud-brick walls the rooms were cool-and dark.
    “Sha’uri?” Daniel called, although it was obvious his wife wasn’t home.
    He fumbled around, finding an oil lamp and light-ing it from a banked fire. Well, this was just perfect.
    Here he was, home after a hard day of pissing the time away, and the lady of the house was nowhere to be found. Daniel ventured into the kitchen area and poked around in the larder. Frankly, it looked pretty bare. And he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the stuff on hand.
    The problem was, Daniel hadn’t gotten the hang of Abydan cuisine. Back on Earth, his notions of home cooking had revolved around Spaghetti-O’s and microwave meals.
    He was flopped on a pile of pillows, trying to read by the flickering flame on the lamp when a tired-looking Sha’uri finally came in. “There’s nothing to eat-at least, nothing I could make,” he said, rising to his feet. “So, what’s up? You’re kind of late.”
    “Father and the Council came to a decision about the offer from the general,” Sha’uri announced.
    “Un-less you were able to get better terms.” “He doesn’t care what happens here as long as he gets his gold quartz,” Daniel said bitterly. He glanced at his wife. “I’m surprised the Council took so long to decide on the deal.”
    “Oh, the agreement came quickly enough,” Sha’uri said. “They were asking me which people we could spare from our literacy classes to work with the scien-tists from Earth. The job requires people who can both read hieroglyphics and speak English. And, of course, we don’t want to strip your