A Homecoming on the Nile 15 April 1999

She slipped out of Reality and into Time with a foot placed in one and the other a step forward. As she emerged from the Present into the Past. The wild gate force energies whipped around her enveloping her lissome figure as a lover would. For one who had traversed the time streams and ancient gates and portals across the myriad of separate planes of existence, this seemed just a sort jaunt. Like stepping over a threshold and into another.

Time held firm by Maat and Pheres, the female felt the gate closed behind her rustling her dark hair from its neat braid. She gathered a ball of light, whispering the words of Power that feel soft off her tongue. She took in a breath of bracing air.

The night was cold and windy when Ashake stepped from one world into the next. Future into the Past in just heartbeat. Khepari, the moon god, hung in the starry skirt of Nut, shining full like a silver ball in a sea of star dust, elusive. Here, before her were the Dunes of Salakis, where the final battle with Lord Sacrab was fought, where Prince Rapses died.

The dark dunes held nothing now but bitter memories and tears. Nothing to be heard but the call of the jackals filling the night air.

How many times have I tread these lands? The warrior-mage thought as she put a scarf around her mouth to ward against the wind and sand. Seems everything done before comes full circle to an end only to emerge as the new beginning.

Lady Ashake, agent of the goddess Maat, walked over to the very spot where Rapes perished. The sand filtered in her hand as she piled up a small mound. Sprinkling rare herbs over the top, she traced a spiral counter clock wise down.

The dried herbs caught as she summoned Fire, licking a red orange circular path, as she intoned:

The incantation was one of her personal spells. The dunes rippled, Ashake looked into the Past of just a few days before. The images never ceased to move her as she watched the Royal guardians fight for their lives again. Her valiant friends, her beloved second family, locked in their perpetual struggled with the traitorous Vizier. Law verses Chaos. A battle of old as Seth and Horus was being re-played in concert to the ancient Egyptian legends.

Ashake fought not to tear her eyes from the battle images racing in front of her. There was Armon, large and true. JaKal, stubborn yet sweet. Nefer, swift and agile. Rath arrogant, but tender. Sohkarra, head strong out to prove herself. All fought for their Prince's safety with their lives. Line after line of Shabti emerged out of the sands, attacking.

Just when all seemed hopeless . . .

The two Realities merged for an instant becoming One. Two sets of Guardians with one goal -- to defend Rapses! Suddenly the battle took a turn for the positive. Ashake felt the scales of Fate tittering. She saw two new faces in the shifting images of Maat's scales -- Marianne Ellis and the future Princess Sohkarra as the weighted plates of justice swung to and fro as if undecided of the outcome.

Which would the Feather of Truth favor? Even Ashake could not feel that far ahead into the future.

Then death came swiftly. Rapses was saved at the cost of his sister's life. Ashake sighed as Anubis appeared and lead the dimensional twin of Sohkarra off to Duat, the underworld of Msir. The Jakal god turned his long eared head to the Celt in the image, saluting her with his staff, in the distance before vanishing.

Ashake raised a hand to stop the fleeting images. One Princess perished to save her brother. Unexpected . . . but it was needed to balance the past Rapses death.

Still . . Sohkarra . Gods poor kid. To see yourself die even a past you is hard enough. Still Rapses was saved.

Maybe this is what Maat meant by "To save the Past sacrifices of the future must be made."

Ashake dispelled the scene.

Tears stung her eyes. "Maat why does it will the same for them . . . is there no other way. Does it always have to end in death? Just once couldn't it end happily? . . ."

Maat's voice was sweet and comforting in her ear. "I can not tell you that, blessed daughter of my heart. My only wish is that fate could have been kinder to you, to all involved. Truth must be upheld . .at all costs! You know the Sacred Pact. It was part of your duty to follow the ways of Fate.

For what is worth, I am sorry." The goddess' voice faded in the desert wind.

Standing, Ashake pulled her hood over face, her cheeks still wet with tears.

Her comlink buzzed. She spoke into the gold amulet, " Yes, Trynia I made it!"

Ashake walked the halls of her past home with a mild but sad heart. The place had not changed much. One upon a time there was children's laughter and music and young mischief filling the rooms. Now . . just the echoing silent passage of servants on their daily errands.

Invisibly, she passed by all, neither smiling nor frowning a she took in her old familiar dwelling. Going room to room, just glancing in seeing the changes Rath had made in her absence. Everything that was hers was gone.

The Celt sighed. Oh Rath you broke your promise! Why did you break your word? In losing me, did you lose all hope? I thought I taught you better than that. I do not hear the laughter of our children. Damn you Rath, you swore!

Ashake made her way out to the garden. There her heart was soften by the sight of her other true passion still there for the eye to see. The lines of palm trees, sacred sycamore, and tamarisk trees swung gracefully in the afternoon breeze, the sweet northern wind that nourished the Ka of Egypt. Her huge herb and flower garden still being tended to by old Menef-keb, her grizzled gardener, whose gnarled hands brought seedlings to life and who spoke to Geb as a priest, despite his common upbringing.

So Rath did keep one thing. Ashake was glad. Her cloak disappeared as her form blurred, changing. Dropping the Spell of Shielding, she sat on the steps admiring the gardener as he worked his own earth magic making a thorny rose bush bloom.

Menef-keb was then aware that he was being watched. He saw her there by the steps, smiling. Her straight short hair as black as the raven's wing, eyes brown like mahogany, and skin the color of well oiled cedar wood. She was a pretty little thing.

"Hello, young one, " said the gardener, wiping his brow. "What is your business in the house of the Royal Scribe Rath?"

"My name is Nesh-ahke," she said, white teeth contrasting to the tanned lips that grinned impishly. "I have an appointment with Sethnakhte. But I was drawn to this lovely spot. Your pride in your work shows through as brightly as Ra sails the sky. Your Mistress of the House must be very pleased at the way you so kindly tend the grounds."

Menef-keb blushed at the compliment. "Sadly, there is no Mistress of the House these two years past. Ash . . my most beloved lady, passed on. Master Rath has not seen to take another since her departure into Duat. May the Scales of Maat be merciful to her ab and ba and ka on her journey to the Fields of Osiris." He hand the sign against the evil eye, kissing the silver amulet of Geb that hung around his neck.

"You loved her much?" Nesh-anhk said, sensing his inner pain.

"We . . all loved her," the gardener said, as tears welled briefly in his black eyes.

He spoke in a low whisper. "The household staff in not allowed to speak of her for the sake of Rath. It pained him much to lose her. Sethnakhte saw to that. But how I miss that beautiful girl!"

Menef-keb gestured to the wide green land stretched out beyond his hand. "This is all I have left of her. I keep it just as she left it. My Lady would have wanted it that way. But there is talk of a new Mistress of the House to be here."

Nesh-ankh tilted her head, inquisitively. "The Wizard has found another? That is good news. Soon the house will be filled with more offspring to enjoy the garden you work so lovingly on. What is she like, this new Mistress?"

The gardener leaned on his hoe. "Her name is Marianne. Very shy, a quiet beauty compared to Rath's last wife. Some scoff at her humble blood, but I like her very much. She is fond of the children. A diligent priestess of Thoth."

A kitchen maid greeted Nesh-anhk and lead her to the main study on the second floor of the estate. Sethnakhte entered the room, all pomp and circumstance in a pleated taupe kilt that did nothing to hide the large paunch the scribe had put on since she had last seen him. The sash was so tight the outline of the genitals were accentuated.

Her beaded braids clanked together as she saw Rath's younger brother circle around her, scrutinizing her appearance. The female was young and very neat. Her strap dress was of the finest white linen. Pale blue sandals laced up her shapely legs. The figure was thin, fine boned. Yes, she will do, the scribe nodded.

A simple spell planted into the minds of the servants had informed Sethnakhte of her coming, but she needed a disguise. The children needed a new nurse. Ashake took that information to her full advantage.

Sethnakhte's pale green eyes looked over the newest member of the household staff. Nice lines. His lingering gaze fell upon the small breast rising and falling under the straps of her sheath dress. Very nice, indeed. He licked his lips.

The female remained silent until spoken to that was a good sign . . not like Her whose present turned the house into Seth's chaos with her music and charm.

"So you are the new nurse?" he asked, his eyes resting on her reed trim waist.

"Yes," she said, "My name is Nesh-anhk, of the House of Tawaret."

"You are familiar with the grounds," said the scribe, as formal and randy as a bull at the gates. "The staff gave you the tour?"

"Yes, my lord scribe," bowed Nesh-anhk, her beaded braids falling into her face forming a rosette patterns on her dress.

You still have not changed, have you, you perverted old toad! She said to herself wishing she could jump into the nearest bath and wash away his burning gaze.

"You will meet my brother's children in a . . .moment . . "

That is when pretty much all hell broke lose! Two small bronzed skinned wonders resembling a miniature Ashake and Rath burst into their space, dirty and disheveled, chattering like small egrets and chasing the other around the adults.

Five year old Hemrata, russet haired with auburn highlights glinting in the light, thrust out a tanned rope-like thing to her uncle. "Look at what Mooneyes just caught!"

It was a dead sand viper. Tiny teeth had crashed the head, the blood still dripping on the clean floor.

"Get that out of here this instance, young lady!" demanded Sethnakhte. Hemrata winced under his biting tone. "And take that . .that skinny rat with you."

Tharakenat, at three, still had his youth side lock on his semi bald head, was holding the skinny rat, their pet ichneumon (mongoose), in question. His side lock would be cut off when he started scribe school in another year. Mooneyes bristled at the commotion. "It is alright," he kissed the furry rodent, who traded kisses with his master, leaving a bloody kiss on his lips. How Thar loved that pet!

"This is Nesh-anhk. Now greet you new nurse properly like young civilized Msirains, " said their uncle. Hemrata and Tharakanat bowed in a courtly fashion like to perfect jointed dolls.

Oh my little ones! How you have grown. She quelled the urge to pluck them up and smother them with affection, and hug them tightly.

Nesh-anhk winked and smiled at the children. Thar looked up with his bright beryl eyes at the pretty lady saying nothing. Hemrata, sad eyed said a soft "Hello" digging her bare foot into the floor.

"Hello little ones," she beamed. "It is nice to meet you. I will see them cleaned up for dinner." said the nurse, offering each a hand.

Thar slipped his tiny hand into hers where a warm squeeze met it. Holding the dead reptile by the tail, letting the viper's head drag along behind her, Hemrata followed.

"Tell me of your hunt. And if you are good I will show you how to skin the snake for a belt."

"Do you like snakes?" asked Hemrata, her hazel eyes twinkled.

"I love snakes," came the warm reply. Brown red hair nuzzled into her dress as the nurse lead the children away into the hall. Then both them began to tell her all about how their mongoose killed the sand viper.

THEBES, 1524 BC:

Rath had gone to see JaKal on a matter of what he felt was a most important issue. He decided that the best time for this would be during one of the times when the two main women in his life were out on one of their excursions into the city. At least that way, he knew he could get back ahead of them, for Sohkarra had taken to going out with Marianne longer and later each time.

He found the Hunter at the palace, where he had expected to. For in an earlier conversation, JaKal had confided to Rath that he didn't spend much time at home anymore except to spend time with his growing son. And this was creating a lot of friction between he and Tia, who could not understand why this should be so. But now he had his own issue to take up with his old friend.

JaKal greeted him cordially enough, even though Rath could see that the weeks of having to maintain a front for his wife's sake was starting to take its toll. He did not envy his friend being married to one woman all the while loving another!

He didn't know if he himself could pull that particular one off. If respective roles were reversed! But in his case his absent wife in this reality had died. Taken from his arms by some unknown accident. Only to find that indeed she was alive... in the reality of dreams. Giving her consent to his present love.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit my friend?" JaKal asked him. Even though he had an idea where Rath had wanted to see him.

"Well, you know what the Princess had to say the other day about possibly not being able to get back?" he asked evasively.

"Yes." Was the reply. "Why do you ask?"

"I would ask a favor of you." Rath answered. He was pretty sure that JaKal would give his approval, but was reluctant to ask anyhow. Like a guilty schoolboy, Rath folded hands behind his back and traced a line in the dirt with his sandaled toe.

"Yes?" JaKal looked directly at him, waiting for him to continue.

"As our Princess put it, I will get right to the point." And he continued on, forcing both his hands stiffly to his sides. "I wish to ask for Marianne's hand in marriage. And I would like your blessing." There. It was said.

"Why the rush Rath?" JaKal asked.

"No rush." Rath answered. "Not for a few months yet. For I have not yet asked her. And it will cement her hold here, and my daughter Nyx will become used to the idea that Marianne will be her new mother. As the other children I am responsible for as well. That they become used to this new addition to my family. For Scribes are allowed under royal decree to join with Priestesses."

"That is true." JaKal answered. "A young girl takes time to become used to a new parent." He said this as he thought that his own son would never have the opportunity to really know the love of his life. For Sohkarra must always be acknowledged as Princess where his son was concerned. For if they were forced to stay, one day she would be able to reclaim her rightful heritage.

"Do I have your approval JaKal?" he asked, bringing JaKal's attention back to the present. He looked at his friend expectantly.

"You do indeed, my friend." JaKal answered. He could not deny his friend a shot at happiness. At least someone should have the chance to make the most out of this trip. In his mind he was happy for his friend. But his heart... that was a different story.

"And you, JaKal?" Rath asked, interrupting his friend's reverie. "How go things for your own self, in your own life?"

"How do you suppose Rath?" JaKal answered, turning away so Rath couldn't see his face. "I still love the Princess. And it is difficult trying to deal with Tia. She cannot understand why I'm staying here at the palace. And what can I tell her? 'No I won't stay with you because the Princess and I are together in the future, and will be again once we go back?" he asked of his friend. "And then to top it off, I see Sohkarra, or should I say Jaime, looking the way she does with that dark hair. The only comfort to be had is the knowledge that she still feels the same for me as I do for her. But we both know our duty and responsibility."

Rath put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Go on." He said to his friend. For he knew JaKal had to release his pent up emotion that had been building.

"I've never felt this type of frustration before, and I'm not sure how to deal with it." JaKal confessed. "For of all things, she has now closed off her mind to me. And with no explanation. Does this mean she no longer loves me?" For only to Rath, who'd been his friend for years, would he ever admit such a weakness to. For he too knew of Rath's own past with his own wife and children. The Hunter's blue eyes squeezed shut as his large supple hands knotted into fists. Within his back the shoulders tensed rock solid, and Rath could feel the tension present.

"I know it is difficult, but we will all get through this somehow JaKal." Rath sympathized to his friend. But he was surprised, for he did not know Sohkarra had closed off her mind link with JaKal and could not fathom why she would do such a thing. But he did know that the Princess still loved her head guardian. "And the two of you will be reunited again. I feel it will be so. And please do not doubt her love for you. For that is the one constant in all of this craziness."

"I pray to Ra that she does and that it will be so Rath." was all JaKal could say, still with his back to his good friend.

A few hours later, JaKal and Rath entered the Scribe's dwelling. However the sight that met their eyes riveted them both to one spot. For there at the carved wooden table the ladies sat laughing loudly. One or two amphorae of good beer lay empty on the table.

Marianne was just pouring another glass, tipping the stream so it hit the side of her tankard. He'd seen her do this at the local pub, pouring out a pint of that brew she loved called Guinness. It was a trick to eliminate the foamy head. "Ah gentlemen," she laughed, as she squeezed a bit of lime into her drink. It was to eliminate the bitterness of the brew. It was much the consistency of her British Ale. "We drink to your health, good sirs!" Raising her own glass, Sohkarra laughed too. Marianne and Sohkarra clinked tumblers and took droughts. Marianne tipped back half her tankard in one gulp, while Sohkarra coughed at the few sips through a straw. Unlike most Egyptians, Marianne did not drink in this manner, which was highly unusual considering the lumpiness of the brew.

"JaKal, I think you should leave those arrows in the entry, lest you be tempted to use them," Rath muttered to his old friend. JaKal responded by telling Rath that he had best put off talking to Marianne about what they had discussed until this situation rectified itself, which didn't look like it would for some time yet.

JaKal then went to Sohkarra's side, pulling the tankard from her grasp. "What is the meaning of this Princess?" he demanded.

Rath too was appalled. Normally he did not mind Marianne's taste for beer after work. Being British it was her custom to imbibe in a pint of bitter at the pub in the old country to hobnob with her friends. Yet he could judge she'd had far more than her usual amount. And the Princess; well, he had never seen her even so much as pick up a glass with anything strong in it. "Of all the idiotic, cloth-headed stunts!" he scolded, using Msirian version of the British insults she often hurled. Marianne simply looked at Sohkarra and laughed. "What do you have to say for yourself, young ladies?" he said to them both. "This is hardly becoming behavior for a Princess..."

"As you recall, I am not a Princess," Sohkarra said sharply. "Not anymore! Princess Sohkarra lies dead in her tomb... hail to her memory!" And at this both women raised their glasses in a loud salute.

"There is still the matter of decorum. After all, you are the Queen's personal bodyguard and responsible for..."

"Don't tell me about responsibility, Rath," she snapped. "If it was not for my 'responsibility', we would not even be here."

"Sohkarra!" JaKal exclaimed. "Is this any way to behave towards one who technically outranks you?"

"Outranks me?" Sohkarra laughed bitterly. "No matter what, I am still my father's daughter. Even if I cannot show it now."

"He is the Royal Wizard and Principal High Scribe, not to mention a Great Royal guardian," said JaKal. "We must give him the respect that office is due. And he has every right to be upset with your overindulgence this night in his very domicile!"

"And who are you to judge my behavior, Great Hunter, and Captain of the Royal Guard?" she snapped at him. "Considering what has happened, or has not happened between us!"

"You know my duty, I must fulfill.." said he. "We both know that!"

"I am sick to Ra of duty!" she thundered at him. "What has duty gotten me? Us! Out of duty I am here, not able to be with you, the man I love! It's killing me for Ra's sake!"

"Lower your voice," JaKal hissed, afraid the servants may hear. He didn't mean to speak to her thus, but in her condition, reason was not something she saw now. Surely she knew how he felt. And then he remembered from somewhere in his memory from the future the theory of "tough love."

"What are you afraid of?" said she. "Rath and Marianne won't tell! You're paranoid. Are you in shame that you still have feelings for me?"

"No my young love, most definitely not." he said, then bit his lip at Rath's warning gaze. "But we must not speak of it. Horus knows who may be watching or listening."

"Humph," Rath muttered. "My house is most secure. Not to mention my servants know far better than to do something as common as eavesdropping! The very idea!"

"Thanks Rath," Sohkarra applauded. "At least someone agrees with me!"

"I may well, but that does not mean I can excuse your conduct," said Rath scolding her.

"You see JaKal, I still have my powers of being able to pick up on others. I would know if someone were near." Sohkarra stated confidently.

"In your condition, my faith in your abilities is diminished." Rath told her, earning a nasty glare from a set of sapphire eyes that were shinier than usual. And it had nothing to do with her sparkling personality.

"Oh Rath, wrap up!" Marianne snapped at him, totally disgusted with his superior attitude. "As if you've never imbibed in your life. What was that about the Feast of Sobek?"

"I may have known Sohkarra would tell you about that. I may consume intoxicants, but I do not let it get out of hand, young lady!"

"Who says I do?" she spat back. "And who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?"

"I am your teacher in this time!" he countered. "You would be well advised to follow my advice and do as I say!"

"Me do as you say, that's a bloody laugh!" she guffawed. "My knowledge of science is well advanced from your laughable mythology!"

"May I remind you that this so-called laughable mythology is responsible for you being alive here and now?" Rath countered again, green eyes blazing in anger.

"What superstitious twaddle you tout as knowledge!" she said, clearly under the influence. While not as sozzled as Sohkarra, she was still well loosened of tongue. "I think you enjoy bossing me around for a change! Now I am at your mercy in this... backwater time before indoor plumbing and antibiotics! Where you have all you can want just because you can read and write and others cannot!"

"What brought this on?" Rath said shaking his head. "And why do you claim you are 'at my mercy'?"

"I've seen how you regard the common folk in the rekket," said she. "Not wanting me to walk among them, as if I was somehow better than they! That disdain is written all over your face. You didn't even want Sohkarra to show me the poorer parts of Thebes! Have you forgotten what it's like to have little or nothing? What hypocrisy!"

"What hypocrisy indeed," he snorted, stalking over to her and staring her right in the face. "This is a fine thanks for the care and time I have invested in your training! Don't you realize how fortunate you are to be in my service?"

"In your service, is it now? Next I suppose you're going to say something to the effect of, 'I made you what you are and I can send you back!' That you could bally well throw me just as easily onto the street to be someone's slave if you so please without so much as a bye or leave!"

Sohkarra, having heard enough, had a thing or two to say herself. "And is this also your revenge on me for all those pranks Rapses and I used to pull. Are you now getting your chance to make me act 'Princess-like?' You forget, oh great Tutor, that to be fully effective here, one must know all aspects of where one is. So I was perfectly within my right as YOUR Princess, in taking Marianne with me on my rounds of the city. Just because I cannot be recognized as myself doesn't mean my responsibilities have changed." And she groaned as she realized she had said the "R" word again.

Marianne rushed to Sohkarra's rescue with a "Right on Lady!" They again clinked their mugs.

"Now I know you're both talking nonsense," he sighed, shaking his head as he clucked his tongue, patience clearly running out. "Clearly you are intoxicated, and no words I say can impart sense at this time!"

"I'd say she was talking perfect sense," Sohkarra again piped up. "You are arrogant! To a fault! Ever since we came back to Msir you've forgotten what the future was like! How it was to be an outcast, to have to hide in fear from the enemy! Never knowing who we could trust or not."

"And you are being most unfair, Sohkarra," said JaKal, sick of this entire episode. "What would your mother, the Queen think seeing you in this state?"

"That was a cheap shot!" said she, pushing him aside as she hobbled out. "I'm surprised you have the nerve to say that to my face! I'm... I'm..." She swayed to one side, tears in her eyes. He gripped her close in his arms as he steadied her. Sobbing she beat his chest, trying to break free of his embrace. "Let me go JaKal!" she implored him. "I am still your Princess." She heard his quiet reply meant only for her "Yes you are." Which made her try harder to get away from him. At last she broke free and stumbled into a chair. Burying her head in her arms she sobbed uncontrollably. Marianne stumbled to her side, laying a hand on her arm.

Exchanging looks with Rath, JaKal sighed. "I think it would be wise if you took your leave, This situation shows no chance of improving for a while yet." Rath said quietly to him as he saw the desire to go to her.

"I shall, by your leave, great Scribe," said he, picking up his quiver of arrows. He slung them at his hip, and hung his bow over one shoulder. Turning once again to Sohkarra, "Please my young love... I mean Jamie. Don't despair..."

"Oh go away!" Sohkarra's voice came muffled through her tears. "I don't want to see you again! You cannot even call me by my real name! Go back to your family! Your wife! Or better yet, I'll go!" And before anyone could stop her, she left with an agility uncommon for one so "under the influence" and was very quickly out the door.

Rath escorted a reluctant JaKal to the door. "You can talk to her again after this spell has worn off." he told his friend. "I think she'll be more open once she has time to think this over. And you know her need for privacy when something is bothering her." And more quietly, "It is not so easy as we thought it might be, is it my friend?"

"No, indeed it is not." JaKal answered. "Take care of her Rath." Pained, he seemingly took his leave. Unknowing to Rath, he followed where Sohkarra had gone. In her condition, her abilities to elude were inhibited, so it was a simple matter to track her.

Rath, having come back in to deal with Marianne, folded his arms again and shook his head as he rounded on her. "I hope you're satisfied," he hissed to Marianne, wishing Sohkarra were also there to hear this. But he swore she would. "You two succeeded in upsetting him and yourselves most of all. What have you to say for yourself?"

"Rath, have some compassion," Marianne shot back at him. "She's lost the one she loves most all over again! Can you blame her for acting as she does?"

"Perhaps not," he said, eyes softening just a bit. "But I thought you would present a better example to her... being her elder..." And then thoughtfully scratching his chin, reflected, "She is right though. In spite of everything, she is still a Princess of the Royal House."

"At least I've heard you acknowledge that small incidental. And you are really not one to talk about age," she laughed ironically, still angry at the world. "Mr. Mid forties I believe. In this time you're almost an old man! And as for Sohkarra's rank, you have treated her as though she is your personal lackey. And also on the subject of your Princess, technically, she has centuries on me. So she should really be MY elder!"

"That does it," he said, advancing upon her. Shrieking, she squirmed as he scooped her up in his arms, and tossed her over his thin shoulder like a sack of grain. "Clearly you've had quite enough as I have as well."

"Put me down you brute! Where are we going?" she demanded very loudly, very tempted to take a fist to his backside as her Egyptian wig hung down on either side of her dangling face.

"You're going straight to bed to sleep this off!" he countered, hauling her bodily into the guestroom. Promptly he dropped her on the bed, still giggling hysterically with sadness and the alcohol. She rolled over, and closed her eyes. In a minute she snored softly. Nodding in self-satisfaction he dropped a cover over her sleeping form, and pulled shut the mosquito gauze curtains. Then turning away he exited the guestroom on the first level.

ELSEWHERE IN RATH's HOUSE:

Nesh-anhk made her path through the halls. Her mind seemed to be everywhere. She locked her mental shields in tighter, no one must know of her presence here. Her awareness spread out like a gentle breeze on a warm desert morning. Grounded in her private place where none could penetrate inside herself . .she let the Maze take her where it will.

The purple crystal in her hands glowed softly, radiating a sullen warmth. Her lovely features awash in a faint mist of magic, watching the events spread out into front of her in two separate places, as her inner eye saw from a split level.

Marianne and Rath fighting. Now Sohkarra and JaKal were readying themselves for their confrontation. Oh Sweet Isis, no! This is all wrong. The threads of Life are slipped so quickly through my fingers . . .every happening, every event is changing before me like grains of sand in a glass. Which way do I turn? Which way do they go?

She reached out with her mind and felt for Amenhotep. His life force beat so dimly.

Lady, no The Tuatha de Danan sighed pleaded with her spirit guides. Not him . .not now . The princess needs him still.

Her amber healing powers lent their way to the dying Pharaoh. As much as she could help, Amenhotep was too far beyond the reach of even her considerable power. No that was it. . it was more like the Son of Ra was wasting away from the insidious thing that grew in him, sapping his strength.

Ashake?!! Amenhotep's voice was weak in her mind.

I am here. Her sonorous voice cracked a bit. Despite their past differences, the healer-bard hated to see the Lion of Msir in so much pain.

I knew you would come back, Chosen of the Goddesses, His voice was edged with love and sorrow. Please allow me to die. It is not seemly . . . for one to weep before my passing The Pharaoh chuckled, then coughed.

Ashake open the channels of power to the king, who gasped at the searing pure touch of energy that came to him. No my lady, please . . he collapsed into a fit of coughing.

Let me heal you, you came all this way, I will not let you . . The Celt felt the tears drop.

I wish it to be like this, try to understand . . .Maat was correct. His mind voice grew faint.

If that is what you want. . I will not interfere. Ashake felt her heart breaking.

I only ask one boon and one question to request of you Amenhotep said.

Name it, Son of the Sky. Ashake felt his heart tense at this effort to remain in contact with her mind.

"My daughter……." He barely got out. "She will be made to atone for what I have done?"

I would be honored, He Who Is the Life Of the Nile Ashake spoke as the tears ran down her cheeks. "And have eternal faith in your daughter's abilities to speak well in your behalf."

Meanwhile somewhere in the night outside, unbeknownst to either Rath or Marianne, another confrontation was taking place. In spite of her inebriation, Sohkarra sensed his presence. "So, have you come to gloat?" she asked.

"You know better than that." he replied.

"Do you think you are the only one in pain over all that has happened?" Sohkarra turned to him. He couldn't help but notice how very different she looked with her now very dark hair. It looked like black silk and was most beautiful with the moonlight bouncing off it. It made him want to run his hands through it so he could feel its softness. But it was those eyes that had remained the same. They could still entrance him the way they seemed to look right through him.

But he couldn't afford to let her appearance distract him from what he needed to say. "In the future, you helped me through my grief concerning my wife and child." And he chose his next words most carefully. She just watched him, eyes shiny, waiting for him to continue. "And you showed me that I had room for another in my heart. That I need not live in the past mourning for what was not to be." He watched for her reaction. "And you taught me to love again. You are what is to be for me. We are just having to take the longer road to meet our destiny."

She could say nothing, but merely went to him. And as if he could read her mind, reached out and pulled her into his welcome embrace. She didn't fight or try to pull away this time. It just felt so good to be in his strong arms again. He felt it as she had settled somewhat. And then she spoke. "I don't want you to go." she whispered. "Can you not stay?"

"We both know the answer to that my young love." He responded. "Even though I wish it otherwise."

"Is it not ironic?" she started. And at his wondering gaze, she said, "That when we were here before, you could not show interest due to our stations. And how now, it is the other way around?"

JaKal too felt a queer irony at the similarity of their respective situations. For now in everyone's eyes, she was now at the service of the royal court. "I'm so sorry that you cannot claim your true heritage now my Princess. For I would not have you in pain."

"I'm afraid you cannot help in that regard JaKal." she answered. "But like you said, you must go." He didn't care for her tone of finality when she said it. And as she turned to go back into the house, he grabbed her arm.

"What do you want from me JaKal?" she demanded. "For I freely admit, I do not know!"

"I would ask you to love and trust in me as you always have." He admitted. He knew it was not fair, but then neither was anything else that had to do with them since they had arrived.

"We will discuss that if we manage to get back home." Sohkarra answered. ""BUT in the meantime, please, leave me alone. Your wife will ask questions. And we do not need that." He didn't see the tears in her eyes as she left. For it was one of the hardest things she had ever done; walk away from him. And if she'd been sober, she may not have been able to do it. He too, felt great sorrow as he watched her go. But he knew she was right. Even in her current state, she was wise. And he never loved her more than in that moment. And he turned to return to his own domicile. And the inevitable questions he knew would come.

Rath emerged in the dining area once again and saw Sohkarra, who had silently returned from Ra knows where sitting at the table with her head pillowed on her hands. Momentarily he considered rushing to comfort her. Somehow he realized this would not be prudent, for he heard her snoring softly within seconds. Sighing deeply he whispered orders to the servants to move her to a floor mat in the guestroom by Marianne's bed.

The next morning Sohkarra felt an awful weight pressing down upon her head. "Ooh, I feel awful," she groaned as she came to. On the floor she lay, a straw mat beneath her. This was how most of the common folk in Msir slept. Upon simple straw mats with carved wooden head rests. To her left loomed the ornate bed, draped in gauze curtains. Judging by its shadow cast on the wall she realized it must be well into noon by now. Marianne also stirred, rolling over. Sohkarra pulled back the curtains, dizzily sitting on the side of her bed.

"Are you feeling as wretched as I am?" Marianne muttered, looking at her friend's drawn face.

"Worse," she nodded. "What in the name of Isis did we do? Hit ourselves with sledgehammers?"

"Fair near feels like that. But it will pass. I am sorry I got you into that." And looking down at the obviously used mats, she asked Sohkarra, "Did you rest on those?" pointing at the mats.

"Yes on both counts. But the drinking was my idea, remember," Sohkarra reminded her. Both friends shared a laugh together and then each grabbed their aching heads.

Then Marianne frowned at the thought of Sohkarra resting on mats. She would definitely speak to Rath about that. The Princess did not deserve that. "Someone's going to be awful cross with what I said." Marianne moaned.

"That goes double for me. I was terrible to JaKal. Even when he followed me outside." Sohkarra confided.

"He didn't leave? You talked to him?" asked a surprised Marianne. And at Sohkarra's nod of yes, "Wow, I wouldn't have put a bet on you not hurting him. But don't worry. I'm sure he knows you were upset. And not yourself. And look at me! I ran away with that Scots temper of mine!"

"Scot's temper? Who is Scot? And why would you borrow his temperament?" Sohkarra asked.

"Oh, Good grief," Marianne moaned, slipping into English again. "We have been here too long. You're starting to sound like the natives..."

"I am a native, remember? And I did spend most of my time in this land," she said, with a crooked grin.

"What I mean is, and this isn't very politically correct, is that my temper is rather fierce when invoked. And most people attribute it to the fact that I am part Scottish. For they are renowned for their short fuses... and letting people know what's on their minds..."

"Was that before or after Isis' blessing that changed you so?" Sohkarra kiddingly reminded her. "For I remember Rath telling me that I was acting very 'un-princess-like.' Like it really matters in the here and now."

"I feel like neither fish nor fowl," Marianne groaned as she tried to stand. Both women supported each other. Marianne was far more accustomed to hangovers than her younger friend. Yet they still felt lousy.

"Does this mean we'll have to, as you used to say, 'kiss up' to the men now?" Sohkarra asked. For she was acutely aware that she had been horrible.

"Never Luv!" answered Marianne. But when they tried to laugh, that made them both groan again.

And Rath chose this particular moment to come in to check in on them. "I never knew anyone to still be abed at this hour who was not ill."

And at once the two women tried to recover as though there was nothing wrong with them. "I don't know what you're talking about Rath." Sohkarra answered. "We feel wonderful on this fine day. Plus I clearly remember seeing how you were on the morning after the Feast of Sobek. So don't start!" She gave a nod to Rath that clearly said, "Also there." And Marianne got a kick out of her sprightly actions. But they both knew they were in for it now.

"Now that I have the two of you together and you are fairly cognitive, what have you two to say for yourselves?" he demanded. He deliberately raised his voice enough so that he knew it would be uncomfortable for them. When they didn't immediately respond, "Well?!!" he demanded again.

"We are not going to apologize for anything Rath." Marianne answered. "For we didn't do anything wrong."

"You, young Princess, have a great deal of explaining to do to JaKal. Especially after he has broken with protocol and took a chance in seeing you last evening."

"That is none of your concern Rath." Sohkarra said, her ire getting up now. "And plus, for your information, I did talk with him outside last night. But what we discussed is not open to analysis, either by you or anyone else." This bit of information surprised Rath slightly as he just stared at her.

While they were on a roll, Marianne had a gripe with the Scribe. "And speaking of which, what do you mean having Sohkarra sleep on a floor mat like you did?"

Rath, not having thought anything wrong with it, questioned defensively, "What do you mean?"

"You said yourself last night, she is still a Princess of the royal house. Princesses do no sleep on mats in my room or anyone's!" Marianne answered, now ticked herself.

Rath had the good sense to back off of this one. "Your point is well taken. I will correct that oversight for when her highness next sees fit to grace us with her presence." Marianne, who thought she'd have a major argument over this one, only looked at him. She shook her head, perplexed. "I'm not so heartless as you might sometimes think ladies." And at that parting shot, he turned and left leaving the two of them looking at his back. That had been painless. What did he have up his sleeve?

THE ROYAL PALACE, later that day:

"She didn't mean it, JaKal," Rapses said, as the Hunter again showed him the use of the bow. Rapses was getting quite good. Under the watchful eye of General Tuthmosis the two of them practiced their archery. Standard targets had been set up for their practice.

"But is it not said that people say what is truly in their hearts when they are under the influence?" JaKal asked.

"That may be in some cases." Rapses responded. "But somehow I know that is not the case with her. I have talked with her and we have spoken of many things. She is a woman whose well runs deep." JaKal could not help but agree. The General, or now the Grand Vizier raised his own bow. Its arrow flew almost as true as JaKal's. Rapses arrow had hit towards the outer rim. And JaKal's landed close by. Good-naturedly the Vizier asked them what was wrong.

"It is a personal matter, my Lord," JaKal told the Vizier. For now he outranked the Hunter, in his new position. Yet the promotion had not spoilt his rapport with his fellow soldiers.

JaKal and Rapses could see how his future grandson had that down to earth nature at times like this. But would be become the next pharaoh if things continued like this?

"But to have her speak to me so... is painful..." JaKal whispered.

"I know it is hard," said Rapses. "Consider how I feel. There is another spirit within me, and I am just now getting used to it. As it became used to me in the future...And the woman 'Jaime' is also connected with the dreams and visions. And she so resembles Sohkarra, both in her looks and in her mannerisms. I sense that she shares more with my sister than those traits. I look at her and it's almost as if Sohkarra is still here. Even the eyes……….."

"She is closer than you think my Prince." Said JaKal in a low voice.

"What was that JaKal?" asked a curious young Prince who was looking right at him. Giving his attention back to the Prince.

"It's nothing my Prince. You were talking about your dreams? Can you remember nothing of it?"

"Like I said, it comes in dreams. I can recall our time... since you were reawakened. I know the memories are not mine. Yet I saw and experienced everything that Presley Carnavon did with you as his guardians. The memories came back to me after your mummified forms vanished. Even now he is sad for he cannot return home to his own time..."

Fortunately they were able to keep their voices down as Vizier Tuthmosis took his turn at the range.

"Try again, my Prince..."

She had spent the better part of her time watching events from a distance. The silent shadow who padded softly in and out of the lives surrounding the Palace and the Royal Guardians. To the world of courtiers and servants, she was merely Nesh-anhk, the nursemaid of the Great Scribe's house. Her lissome form made her way to her quarters.

In this seclusion, her guise of Nesh-anhk vanished as she silently prayed. Ashake kneeled as she cast her circle. No one must know her here. The circle would keep out any unwanted prying. The spidery language of Etheric formed on her lips. The air crackled, as the purple crystal, at her feet, pulsed with life.

Gauging the proper time for convergence would be tricky. Ashake watched the lives of six people, in the glow of the crystal images, as a play unfolds to an audience of one. Everything seems so different. But still the same. It is as if they are . .stuck here as the lotus blooms chokes the Nile reeds. JaKal is still married but in love with a woman he can not have. Marianne and Rath are sorting out their relationship. Armon and Nefertina seem to be flourishing. But then there is Sohkarra . . she seems to be uncertain in her new role as guardian.

Ashake watched as the Mary and the princess got drunk and the arguments that ensued after their brash words. About damn time you two did something like that . . Men! Poor Sohkarra. I feel sorry for the princess . .to be so near your love but not able to be with him. I know something of how that feels . .and it hurts like a knife in your heart.

The scene in the crystal changed to Nyx, daughter of Chontra and Rath. Then there is you, my little misplaced bairn. She is an unexpected twist of fate in this tapestry I am trying to reweave. For all intensive purposes, Nyx did not belong here. True, Nyx was the true daughter of Rath and Chontra, but the taste of her aura was that of another parallel realm. How she ended up here was anyone's guess. Seems that some quirksome temporal displacement deposited her here. And her fate is now tied up in the others as events pass.

Damn! Ashake cursed. This is not gonna be easy. Well I guess I should not hold off this conversation any longer.

Concentrating her thoughts in a single thread of Will, her call pierced through Time, a single word spoken **Trynia?!** A familiar timorous voice reached back grasping as a hand seeks out another.

In the amethyst light, the cyborg's gold flecked features rippled. Her face was panicked. "Ashake? Is all well? Thank the Matrix, you contacted me. My construct was off line waiting for a communication. I have been frantic for solars with trepidation. I thought that your termination had . "

"Rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated," Ashake replied. "I apologize for the delay. How are things at your end?"

Trynia began a long inventory of her latest repairs made to her time tripping device. "The hexagonal Tyberian black quartz crystals you cut worked splendidly!

The tone and electromagnetic field enhancements of these have rivaled those indigenous to my home world. There should be no excuse not to just send . . "

"We have a bit of a problem," stated Ashake evenly, folding her arms.

"What sort of problem?" Trynia asked, "I did not find the drop in your tone at all encouraging to the present situation."

"Well, it is like this . . " and Ashake filled the cyborg in on all the events leading up to that moment. Trynia's only remark was a single blink at the data her friend provided.

"So one existence was exchanged for another," she murmured the gold plated on her face glistened. "Sohkarra sacrificed her other self to insure Rapses lived."

"Since there was a death involved. There was no other way to lock down the time slip. If it was not the princess, then someone else would have had to perish,"

Ashake sighed, rubbing her temples. "I scryed into the true Future of this time. I found a disturbing truth. Going back into the Past, Sohkarra knew that she would have to take matters into her own hands. She has the power, but her precognitive Gifts were unskilled for such a delicate task."

"You have a theory?" said Trynia. "Was the wrong person terminated?"

The Celt's nod answered her question.

"When I scryed into this Future, I ... I saw no existence of Marianne. There was no trace of her life force ever existing." Her words rang cold. "This breach cause a tremendous flux when the merging occurred. The merging inadvertently made a permanent temporal shift in THIS reality. All events are now centered on Marianne and Sohkarra."

"Surely you can just open the portal and send them back at any time," asked Trynia, wringing her fingers.

"It is not the simple," explained Ashake, sitting into a more comfortable position, "In my own past experience with such similar temporal anomalies, my advice is the rules no longer apply. Now that there is a change in this Past, what ever roles our friends are in now must be played out to the fullest until the proper convergence runs its course and we bring them home."

"To use a popular twentieth century euphemism, Trynia stated, "You're stuck there."

"That is about the size of it," said Ashake. The cyborg's image faded and flickered. "Picture getting..." static crackled. " Mired. "

"I will signal you at the proper time. Until then just sit tight, Trynia."

"I will await future transmissions..." the crystal grew dark and the light extinguished. Ashake leaned back, lost in thought.

A FEW days LATER:

Marianne and Sohkarra had just arrived from another trip into the inner sanctums of Thebes. Rath was still not happy about these excursions the Princess engineered, but had learned that they would go in spite of his advice to the contrary. And plus he knew Sohkarra was teaching Marianne much and that pleased his ladylove. In fact she herself was now in demand to help if Sohkarra were attending to her duties at the palace. In the meantime, he had something important to tell the two of them.

"I met with JaKal in the recent past." He told the two women. At the mention of JaKal's name, Sohkarra immediately paid attention to what Rath would have to say. "That is nothing unusual Rath." She stated. "You two often see each other."

"He inquired after you Sohkarra." Rath mentioned. "He sends his warmest regards and hopes for your most speedy recovery from your 'illness'."

Sohkarra blushed at the reference to the binge she and Marianne went on recently. She still sported memories of the hangover she'd endured for a couple of days afterward. "That was kind of him." She responded.

"He says he can no longer feel your thoughts with him." Rath mentioned to her. For earlier when he had talked to JaKal about another concern with Marianne, JaKal had told him this. "He is most pained by this."

"No more than I when I receive his thoughts." Sohkarra defended herself. "I shut down that part of my mind so I could not pick up his thoughts. Nor he my own.""

"Sohkarra, you didn't tell me you'd done that." Marianne interjected. For she was truly surprised. She knew the younger woman still loved her guardian, yet also knew it hurt her very much to have to see him with his wife and not be able to say anything.

"I didn't think I needed anyone's permission to handle my problem as I saw fit." Sohkarra said, a little burly. "I told you that it was painful for me, so I just decided to do something about it." And when she got critical looks from her companions, she got defensive. "Don't worry. I can still sense everything else I need to. But this is just less painful for me."

"Can I at least give him a message from you Princess?" Rath asked. For he could understand how painful it had to be for her. He knew he would be miserable if the situations were reversed. "He would welcome any word from you."

"Yes." She said simply. "Tell him I still love him and that he may take comfort in that as I do. And now if you will excuse me, I must attend my duties at the palace. The Prince has requested my presence." And as she turned to leave, she turned to Marianne who was walking her to the door. "Nice job today. You are getting better every time we go out."

"I wish I had your inner talents though," Marianne remarked. "For what you do still amazes me every time I see it. I never get tired of seeing you in action. And the way you are with those people. Truly amazing. Will you ever tell me how you do it?"

Laughing, Sohkarra stepped out into the sun where Kiya was waiting for her. Marianne accompanied her out and petted Kiya's neck as Sohkarra mounted. "Thanks for the compliments. But I must have a few secrets to myself. Will you be game to another trip in a few days?"

"You bet, luv." Was the ready answer.

"Very well then, I shall see you again soon." And then she was off.

Rath glanced thoughtfully at Marianne, and she wondered what else he had spoken to JaKal about. She did not know that he was indeed thinking of what she had said a while ago. When it came to the subject of them not being able to return.

"Marianne, there is something I must reveal to you."

"What is it Rath?" she asked him.

"I... spoke with JaKal. And there are certain matters I need... to discuss with you. I am sorry I have not thought of the subject. Of your future. And I do not wish to leave you in 'limbo.' Is that the word you use?"

"Yes. But it's not a concept that my religion buys," she joked, recalling that the Church of England didn't believe limbo, as the Catholics saw it existed. Rather it was just a term for being left in a "holding pattern."

"Hem, quite. But I spoke with JaKal. Would you care to join me in the garden for a few minutes." She felt him take her arm. The serious look in his eyes made her nervous. What was he going to say to her? Gently he sat her down upon one of the ornate chairs as he still stood over her. "I know that I promised to do everything to make your life here happy. And meaningful," he breathed. "And seeing as you are... well... as trapped here as the rest... I have... hem.... How do I say this? Which is why I talked to JaKal."

"Yes."

"I asked him for permission to... for permission... for your hand in marriage."

The words stunned her. Still reeling with the shock of his admission of a former marriage, she didn't know what to say.

"I would understand if you refuse," he said, getting down on one knee before her. "But please consider it. Nyx is very fond of you already, and thinks of you much as a mother figure. But the other two children. I would not expect you to be a substitute mother for them. For they are well cared for by my brother."

"Could I tell them at least?" Marianne asked. "They have a right to know if their father… is asking another woman to marry him."

His hands grasped hers eagerly. "JaKal gave his leave. But understand I did not ask him on your behalf. Merely because it is the custom of a Msirian man to ask the woman's parents if they will give him their daughter's hand. And seeing as your parents are in the future."

"Rath. I am still not sure what to say," she breathed, her heart leaping.

It was all so sudden. But she did respect him for telling her the truth about things. "Please. Take all the time you need," he said. "But understand this. I want your happiness more than my own. And I cannot think of a better way to spend one's life than in the company of they whom they love." He did look a bit silly kneeling there. But there was something touching about it. Very old fashioned. And she did love him deeply. Who better to have at her side if she was to be stuck here in this time? "Marianne... will you consent to my proposal of marriage?"

After a flush filled her face, she nodded. And felt tears in her eyes.

"I take it that is a yes?" he said, as he continued to kneel.

"Oh... yes, blast it! Get up you." she half-laughed, half cried, pulling him to his feet.

Eagerly he pulled her to him, and held her close in his arms. A sense of relief and excitement washed over her. Perhaps remaining here wasn't the gilded cage it had first seemed. For even thus protected, she had a hope of some semblance of a normal life.

THE ROYAL PALACE:

Sohkarra stepped into the garden where she was told the Prince was waiting for her. "My Prince, I have arrived as per your order." She got his attention.

Rapses turned around and looked at her. And immediately Sohkarra also saw the young Princess to whom the Prince was betrothed. The young girl ran up to Sohkarra and grabbed her around the waist. For in the short time since they had met, the younger girl had gravitated toward Sohkarra. And indeed looked for reasons to spend time with her. "I'm so glad to see you Jaime." She said to the guardian.

"As I am to see you young Princess." Sohkarra replied cautiously returning the girl's embrace.

"Did you know that Rapses and I are to be married, by order of the Pharaoh?" she asked. And at Sohkarra's nod that she did indeed know, continued, "Don't you think that is great?"

"If that is the wish of both of you, then of course I do." Sohkarra answered. She looked at Rapses, her brother. She sensed that he was most eager to speak to her in private. "The Queen is looking for you young Princess." Sohkarra told the girl. "She awaits you." And at this the fiancée' of Rapses left to go find the Queen.

"She isn't really, you know," grinned Rapses.

"Yes, I know." Answered Sohkarra, returning the smile.

And then before either of them could anticipate it, Rapses came right to the point. "You are my sister, Sohkarra, aren't you?"

Sohkarra almost choked. "Why do you say that my Prince?" she asked.

"What you just did with Sit-Hathor-Yunet (she had been named after a 12th Dynasty Princess of the same name.) had Sohkarra's name all over it. She used to do that to Rath when we'd get tired of his lessons. She'd tell him our father wanted to see him over something or other. And he'd fall for it every time." And he smiled as he said this. She too, couldn't help but grin as she too remembered. But once again getting serious, "Plus you showed up after her death."

"That is just a coincidence my Prince. You would not have known of me before the battle that took her." Sohkarra tried to placate him. "I was still in training, and just happened to be there when it happened."

"There is more I would tell you to prove I know you are Sohkarra." He said, looking into her eyes. For no matter what she said, her eyes were really all the proof he needed. For no two women could possibly have those unique eyes.

"Go on, my Prince." Answered his sister.

"JaKal himself has mentioned you on numerous occasions." He knew then that he really had her attention. "He is quite fond of you."

"My Prince, I think enough has been said." She answered.

"I have the spirit of Presley Carnavon inside me." He immediately said. "Does that name not ring a bell with you?" Again, that penetrating stare at her. "He communicates with me at times, especially at a time like now, when you are near. He knows you!"

Sohkarra could sense the truth of his words, for she could feel Presley reaching out to her, urging her to tell Rapses the truth. All of it.

"I don't know what to say my Prince." Sohkarra said, turning away.

"Tell me you are my sister." Rapses pressed her. "I know this inner voice would not speak falsehoods. I have told JaKal of the dreams I've had of a future where chariots go without horses pulling them, and structures that make the pyramids look small. From whence the lady Marianne comes. I also told him I see you in those dreams as well. Only you do not attempt to hide your appearance as you do now."

"Very well Rapses." She conceded. "I am Sohkarra." And all at once he came to her and gave her that familiar hug he used to often bestow on her. And she gladly returned it. And holding him away from her, she said, "But it must be our secret."

And at his questioning look, "It must be so, my brother. Let me explain." And at his nod, she told him about how they had come from the future at the request of their father and mother, and how her past self had to die in order for her to accomplish her task. And then how she had taken the position of Queen's bodyguard to keep an eye on him.

"And you and JaKal?" the Prince wanted to know. "Have you two become united in this future time? For I swear he could not keep his affection for you a secret."

"That is yet another sacrifice made to be here Rapses." She said. He noted the sadness that came into her voice when she spoke of the hunter.

"I understand." Said Rapses. "I'll keep your secret Sister. But I can't lie and say I am not most happy to have you back."

"Oh, and I you, my brother." She returned. "But remember, always call me 'Jaime', and not by my real name. For the secret must be kept, even from our parents."

"As I remember, we're pretty good at that." Rapses laughed. Sohkarra joined him.

"Some things never change brother."

IN the DESERT OUTSIDE THEBES:

Nefertina cracked her whip, the tiny sonic boom sending her horses into a much faster and frenetic pace. Her horses foamed and fretted as they strained against the tight bits. "Faster, you!" she cried.

Beside her chariot rattled the Great Chariot as Kenna laughed. "You'll have to do better than that my love!" he called to her as his chariot took the lead.

Nefertina gritted her teeth. "You arrogant jerk," she muttered under her breath. "Just you wait!"

She jerked the reigns to one side, sending the horses to the left. "Haw there! Haw!" she shrieked. Her perfectly matched team responded perfectly as her chariot sideswiped his.

"What are you doing?" Kenna gasped. Out in the desert they raced, kicking up huge clouds of dust as they sped along towards Thebes. The city with one hundred gates of alabaster stone loomed ahead. Once out to the oasis and back he said.

But all the way he laughed as he would pull ahead. This was all some game to him. It was his idea, as she was between carrying errands for the Queen, and had dropped Sohkarra off for the day, that they have a bit of a race. Just to keep their skills sharp.

It had become all too personal for Nefertina. In her stomach she felt boiling wickedness. As hot as the rays of Ra that shone down on her head. She wore her gold helmet to ward of the sun's rays, but still let her long hair stream out the back.

Grumbling she threw her helmet from her brow, sending it crashing near his chariot. He swerved just in the nick of time as the golden helmet impacted the sand with a little pouf. He glared at her as she pulled ahead with that momentary distraction. The feathers on his horse's headpieces flared in the wind as he pulled them harder. "On!" he shouted over his chariot's wheels.

Nefertina was only fifty paces from the gates. Only a short time to go! Just as he caught up her chariot thundered into the main gate of Thebes, past the startled guards who jumped to one side. Kenna cursed profusely as Nefertina rushed down a side alley.

"Charioteer!" shrieked a voice. "Please... I beg you stop! In the name of Ra!"

"What?" Nefertina asked, pulling her horses to a stop. She brought the vehicle to bear in a 180 turn, and saw the source. A man rushed out of the house, his simple white kilt about his waist, his legs stained purple with wine.

"What... is going on?" she asked.

"You must take me to get help," he beseeched her. Grabbing at the reigns. "My daughter is gravely ill..."

"But what can I do... I serve the queen..."

"Do not be angry noble Charioteer! I plead with you... I need the great healer..."

"Great healer..." Nefertina asked. Then it hit her. "Get in," she said.

The wine merchant clambered in, his story spilling from his lips. A silly race would have to wait. As she pulled past a returning Kenna he stopped her.

"That was magnificent driving," he said. "But why throw your helmet at me?"

"You were beating me, that's why," she said simply. Kenna's eyes caught sight of the wine merchant in the chariot with her.

"Stopping to pick up strays?" he joked. "Really, the Queen will surely..."

"He needs my help..." she said.

"Really, a charioteer of the Royal house stopping to give anyone a ride... what is this world coming too..." Kenna teased her. Anger boiled up hot and wicked as she saw red.

"Oh go ride off a cliff!" she shouted at Kenna. And reigned her chariot to the house of Rath, the scribe.

THE WINE MERCHANT'S HOME:

Marianne wiped sweat off her brow in the low room. Someone has a nasty cut, infected. Using wine she washed it out and used a poultice on it. She saw their pleas and thanks as she had worked magic before their eyes. Yet it was just twentieth century first aid, not the miraculous cures of Sohkarra!

Her simple instructions were, "Do not forget to change the bandages daily, for the wound must breathe. And wash it daily with wine and water. Keep it dry, and keep the dirt from it. For there are evil spirits that must escape through the bandages..."

By this she meant germs. But in the low house she felt a sense of what Sohkarra must. A sense that she was in some small way, making a difference in their lives.

"Oh great Priestess, we are forever in your debt. What price would you ask?"

Marianne sighed, "None but your gratitude..."

"But you must take something, Great Priestess!" said the wine merchant, falling flat on his face. "The God Thoth would be angry if we did not reward you..."

Her eyes fell upon the large amphorae in one corner of the shop. Clearly they weren't going to let her simply depart without repaying a debt. This sudden power over them made her uncomfortable. What did they want to give her in exchange for her services? Marianne realized she had to name a payment fast, or else they might give her a month's wages in gold! Like the fisherman's daughter she'd given mouth to mouth resuscitation the week before! How in blazes she had to explain that sudden appearance of fish in the larder to Rath was a story for another time.

"Er, how about this. You give me two amphorae of that fine wine, delivered to my master's home... each week for the next three months. That will be sufficient payment..."

Relief spread in his face, and he kissed her sandaled feet. "It shall be as you say. To whom shall I deliver the wine?"

"Erm... uh, to the House of the Great Scribe of Amenhotep," she fumbled, hoping they would know where Rath lived. After all, they had fetched her, didn't they? And she had Nefertina, who seemed occupied about something else, take her to the wine merchant's dwelling.

Then she waited as they hailed a city chariot, and loaded two fine jugs of wine with her. Part of her heart leapt with fear as she realized Rath might give her the devil about going out alone, without Sohkarra even! As they pulled up to her house, the servant came running. "Ah, at last you are home mistress..."

"Er, yes. Could you take this wine to the cellar? And is... Rath home?"

"The Master is instructing the Prince," said the servant, urging others to take the wine inside. "It is his desire that you relax yourself..."

"That may be... but just don't let on where I've been..."

"I cannot guarantee that milady," the servant sighed. He had come only too well to know about her excursions.

"Just say it was my idea then, and the wine is a gift from his beloved," she sighed, as he took her cloak. Into the coolness of Rath's house she entered. That sun was blessedly hot, but slowly she was becoming accustomed to it. The house steward automatically handed her a cold flagon of beer as she sat in the sitting room. There she caught her breath on the fine-framed sofa. Cold, lumpy barley sloshed in her mouth as she tasted its refreshing tang.

Within minutes she wandered into Rath's Document chamber-study, hoping to appear as nonchalant as possible. This library was on the main floor of the house, adjoining the sitting room. It was equally possible he wouldn't return today at all! Marianne coughed as she found a set of scrolls she had seen a few times before. Carefully tucked into one corner of the chamber. Rath had given her free reign of his home while he was at the palace, now that she was his fiancée'. And she as his assistant often spent times taking quiet walks or reading the ancient scrolls he'd written. There were hundreds of ancient magical texts she absorbed. And since she had read hieroglyphics, her knowledge was quite improved.

One particular scroll caught her attention. It was part of a private journal, and she really knew she shouldn't be reading it. But it intrigued her. The odd sonorous Egyptian poetry he'd written was breathtaking. For only by reading literature of a culture could she even begin to understand it. Who was this woman that he described? Gentle strains of love made her blood shiver with delight. It dawned on her that maybe this was a lost love... and the next few lines made her blush. She never thought the Msirians would write such explicit poetry. For thinly veiled metaphors surged under the descriptions of lotus blossoms and moist honey upon skin...

"Enjoying yourself?" came his voice. Marianne almost leapt out of her skin in surprise. Hastily she pushed aside this journal scroll into the side of the wall where it had been before. It had been nearly three days since she'd seen him. This was also typical in ancient Msir. To go for up to a week without seeing your loved one. Even if you weren't married, but were engaged.

"You're back already," she quipped.

"The news of certain events has reached my ears," came his voice. Marianne flinched. Here it came.

"It was necessary," she blurted out, matter of factly. "For I could not refuse the wine merchant's pleas..."

"So you are the one I have to thank for the recent appearance of some of the best wine in Thebes?" came his reply. Instead of anger, she could swear amusement tinged his voice.

"But I thought this was the time of the festival of the idols," said she. AI am surprised you are back at this hour..."

"Ahem, even I must take time for personal business," said he, as he kept that blasted distance of five paces from her. He coughed discretely to the two servants who helped Marianne tidy the scrolls. Still she wasn't used to having someone waiting on her hand and foot from dawn to dusk. They helped her dress, fix her hair... it was maddening to have no privacy. Once no one was in the room he came to her side. She pretended not to notice him, burying her head in the scrolls as he often did. It was her way of teasing him. Till she felt a set of arms slip behind her and gently pull her back to his chest. The ornamental collar felt cold on the back of her neck as she felt a gentle kiss at the nape. It was a very sensitive spot, as he had gently lifted her hair aside.

"Good Grief!" she gasped, turning around. "I do wish you wouldn't creep up on me like that!"

"I cannot help it," said he. "Somehow... the exuberance of youth returns to me, when I am alone in your presence..."

"Alone," she grumbled. They have less time together. And being under Egyptian etiquette there are certain things they don't do in public. Even if they are engaged to be married in a year's time.

"You know full well that there are certain decorum that we must adopt, being Scribe and Priestess... as we are..."

"Now I know I'm glad I wasn't born in the Victorian Era," said she. "All these... courtly mannerisms are becoming quite bothersome."

"I am inclined to agree, as far as certain young ladies are concerned," he teased, turning her to face him. The green eyes twinkled. His arms slipped around her waist, drawing her close as he gently kissed her cheek. Their customary greeting melted her reserve.

"I take it you're not angry with me..."

"I must admit I was a bit... concerned..." he asked. "Yet... I cannot help but be proud of my student for her mastery of the healing arts..."

"But I thought... you were not overjoyed when I 'strayed from the nest...'" she said, not able to resist the verbal jab.

"That is hardly the case," he returned. "And you well know I cannot stop you when you have made your mind up..."

A scent of rich perfume overloaded her sense of smell. Like many courtly Msirians Rath walked in a cloud of cologne each day. She could tell he was in her presence by its scent. Like myrrh. Even now he was alive it was even more marked, for the sweat on his olive skin enhanced the smell. She could feel the heat of the afternoon melting the oil in her hair. They had braided in extensions, giving it the luster of a cornrow. The linen was soft and light, almost sheer. As if she was only wearing a camisole, not a real frock. And through the light gossamer dress she felt the warmth of his hands. She wore no underwear, like everyone else. Now she knew how the Highland Scots felt.

Thank goodness the climate was hot! Inside Rath's study it was blessedly cool though. As he pulled her close she felt the thicker linen of his fine clothes against hers. And the gentle touch of his lips against her cheek. Automatically her arms went around his neck, and she had to stand on tiptoes to reach him, as she was only 5'4. "Good grief, Rath! This is maddening," she whispered. "I feel like a guilty child stealing away from school..."

"Mm yes, and I am a guilty teacher who is fraternizing with his student, he chuckled, gently brushing his nose against hers. For a time she let him. Then it struck her just how naturally he had slipped into his old routines ever since they got back. Yet she couldn't blame him. She would do the same once she got home. Surrounded by her books and objects she loved. If such a thing were possible. But as nice as the Msirian custom of rubbing noses was, there were some things of the past that could be bested. Marianne pressed her lips to his, for the first time in days. Since he was alive as she, there wasn't a chance she would let pass to kiss him. Especially when she had no idea of how long she would have the chance. Even with Sohkarra's blush of life spell in the future, she knew he was necrotic. But to have the real thing in her arms, alive and breathing as she. It was just too good to pass up. Leaning up on her tiptoes she tilted her head. He did as well, making it a bit easier for her to reach. As he leaned against her she was sandwiched between him and the table of documents. Rath responded to her modern kiss, deepening it as his own mouth opened to hers. Some things gladly he did not abandon. They remained like this for the better part of five minutes. Marianne gently drank in the sensitivity of his lip touches as they spent time together. It was so sweet to her. This stolen time mere moments he had taken to spend with her. It meant much to her... she concluded. And to Rath she was most grateful that he was paying more attention to her emotional needs lately. Ever since that drinking episode, his words rang through her head: "I am not as heartless as I seem, ladies."

Her hands felt the fine linen of his shirt, and the cold metal of his collar beneath her one hand slipped behind his neck. In turn she could feel those fine slender long hands as one slid down her back. Caressing it through the sheer light linen of the long dress she wore. It had the long shoulder straps, and her own matching collar of Priestess covered her bare neck and shoulders. As there was a sound at the door, she straightened up in his arms, panicking. "Whatever is the matter?" he whispered softly, eyes still half shut. Still he held her close in a firm embrace, as if having no intention of releasing her from it.

"Ohh, if they were to see us together like this," she whispered, quite thrilled at the change in attitude. "Would not people think it... inappropriate. This taking time out for personal business..."

"Humph," he sniffed. "This is after all my home... and what activities I choose to pursue in my private laboratory are my affair alone. You have no need to worry about such... trifles.... as being caught. And there is the matter that we have pledged ourselves to one another..."

"You were always obsessed with it before, at the Palace..."

"Seeing as we are not at the palace, etiquette can be relaxed to a degree," he said, closing his eyes as he covered her mouth with his once more. He pulled her close, wrapping her in those gauntleted arms. Abandoning all reserve, his warm moist tongue coaxed open her mouth, making her shiver massively from head to toe. Part of her seemed momentarily perplexed that he suddenly seemed quite adept at the modern French kiss! Her excitement choked into her throat, rattling around in her stomach and heart that pounded miles per minute. He sandwiched her between himself and the document table, pressing close. Their warmth passed between them, through two layers of cloth from his body to hers. Strongly the odor of his perfume filled her nostrils. Rath pressed ever closer, burying his mouth into hers as he leaned over. His thighs moved to straddle on either side of hers. She could feel him pressing close and hard against her stomach. Shivers massively filled her senses all the way up and down her front. Hungrily she opened her mouth a bit more as she caressed her tongue against his. All of a sudden it was as if he'd graduated to a very modern kiss. From the reserved nose touching to the full mouthed French kisses of the twentieth century. Perhaps he knew much more about lovemaking than she originally thought!

"Rath," she gasped, pulling away. "I don't know what's coming over you . . . but I rather like the change . . . "

"Hmm," he laughed a bit, with mischief filling his green eyes. They were drinking in her appearance with slightly lascivious overcast. If this was what he was like now, good grief she couldn't imagine how things would seem further along the road.

It was so hard to be around him when alive. Wanting to take every opportunity presented to be as close as possible. Her eyes stared past his headdress as he continued his heated kiss to the far wall beyond. To look at a massive rack of scrolls. Her rump was getting a bit pained pressing up against the document table, and she winced. Through her kiss she mumbled her numbness.

"What is wrong?" he asked her, concern filling his face as he withdrew from the kiss again. Still he pressed quite close to her, blood surging in his extremities. Marianne felt a bit drunk on living sensation. She imagined a similar thing was happening with Rath. Overwhelmed by the sensation of living flesh against living flesh they had both pressed tightly together now.

"My bum is getting a bit numb," she muttered in English. "I hate to say this . . . but it is rather . . . "

"Uncomfortable?" he finished. At last he released her, gently rubbing his hand over her derriere where the numbing sensation had spread. "How silly of me! I must apologize..."

"Really, it's quite all right," she said with a slight laugh. Secretly she hoped he had not gotten ink on the dress, as she feared she might have brushed up against some of his documents.

"Perhaps we should adjourn to someplace more . . . comfortable . . . "

"Are you quite sure about this?" she asked him. "What about the whole etiquette thing. At the royal palace you were obsessed with even coming within five feet of me. Why the sudden change?"

"This is my home, and what I seek to do within its walls are my affairs alone . . . "

"But your servants . . . "

"Know far better than to concern themselves with private affairs, as I have told JaKal on many occasions. No my dear, there is no need for fear of discovery."

"If I didn't know you better I'd say you had some experience at this sneaking around . . . "

"Er, well . . . I . . . "

"Don't tell me," she said, putting a hand over his mouth. "Let me be surprised. Some things in the past are best left unsaid."

"Quite," he agreed, relief in his eyes. For a moment tension knotted his whole body. As if he were forced to reveal another secret of his past. Marianne felt a flush of shame at having read his poetry. She was thankful he wasn't a telepath like Sohkarra. Or she herself for that matter. Rath had taught her much magic, but telepathy wasn't something you learned. You either were born with it or had it bestowed on you by the wise ones. Marianne was far from telepathic, only having a "gut instinct" that proved right on many occasions.

"Shall we . . . continue this elsewhere?" he whispered, that mischievous look present again in his eyes. They shared a soft chortle, like two teenagers sneaking off to make out in the family car at a drive in.

"Are you quite sure . . . this is what you want?" she asked. "Now?" Still he gripped her hands.

"Indeed yes," he said softly caressing her cheek. "After all, this is indeed business of a most personal nature... that has long gone denied... and I do not wish... to procrastinate in its sweet conclusion..."

"Believe me I'm thrilled to death to have this chance . . . oh . . . more than you can imagine . . . but I feel as if I'm breaking some hidden rule . . . After all I am... a... virgin..." she said the last word with a bit of embarrassment.

"Only more reason to make this special. If you would rather... not now... simply say the word..."

"One question before I answer that one... Is it proper for an Egyptian man to . . . er . . . to an unmarried woman . . . even if . . . "

"Is that what's bothering you my love," he asked, a bit surprised? "Don't be disturbed over it. For the customs of my land are far different from yours. In our society if a woman moves in with a man they are considered married . . . "

"So the mere fact I've been staying here . . . and you've been at the palace . . . "

"Was a deliberate thing . . . to insure properness? But I find that time . . . is limited. And some opportunities . . . should not be passed up . . . for we don't know what may come . . . "

His breath was coming in gasps as he held her close. As if holding back all the passion, he wanted to grit his teeth. It took remarkable self-control not to just give into her passion. Marianne silenced him with her own eager kiss, and he lifted her off her feet. To hold her in his arms as he carried her out of the library and into his main room. She choked down fear as she heard voices in the outer chamber. Stealthily Rath crept toward the stairs, passing the guestroom entirely. She choked back laughter when she felt the surge of fear. He was taking her upstairs, passing another room Sethnakhte had when he stayed, and past Nyx's little room. Finally into the main master bedroom chamber he carried her, to lay her gently upon his extensive bed. She'd not been in here before, only having seen it on her initial tour of the house. It felt firm and comfortable under her tense back, strained from reading in one position for many hours.

For a moment she saw him move away, and turn his back to her. There was a sound of flint striking flint as he lit a container of sweet incense. The smell was heady and strong as it reached her nostrils. The soft glow of several oil lamps sprang up at intervals in the room as he lit them one by one.

"Rath . . . are you quite sure?" she asked him again as he lay next to her, caressing her hair. In one hand he held a cup of wine, which he had already sipped from. Slowly he held it before her lips, bidding her to drink. One small sip burned and moistened her throat as a warmth shot down her body. Slowly he sipped again, draining half the container as he again offered the rest to her.

She had not dared think he'd bring her this far into his private domain. One side was always hidden from her. His gentle kiss silenced her next question in her throat. Still fully clothed he pressed her to the bed's surface, eagerly slipping forth his tongue into her mouth. The taste of wine was still present, soft and headily sweet tasting of the vine. As he kissed her deep and long, she drank in the kiss for she could not speak. How good it felt to lie here with him over her, breathing!

"Believe me, I am most certain..." he chortled softly, laying the wineglass to one side. Gently his hand traced up her thigh, slipping up the material of her sheer dress. His sandaled feet sought to kick off the sandals, till she at last reached up and unfastened them for him. They fell with an undignified thump to the floor. Now he rested over her, straddling her as she was pinned down to the bed's surface. He moved something behind her head to cushion it with one arm as he shifted his weight more evenly on her. Well muscled and lean, he was still heavier than she, all muscle and solid bone. Crushing down from above. For a moment Marianne had a mental image of JaKal and Sohkarra making love, and she giggled.

"What?" he asked, a small smile on his face. Still he wore his collar and headdress, sweat covering his face and brow.

"Er . . . nothing . . . " she said, trying to hide her grin. At least the body mass ratio was more even in this case. Strange how in the heat of the moment she would think of something so ludicrous as a massive JaKal making love to the small delicate Princess. She was taller than most women of her time were, but she was still much smaller than her chosen one.

"What are you thinking of that is making you grin so?" he asked, not being able to resist grinning himself. For he loved her smile.

"I just got a thought of JaKal and Sohkarra making love and the differences in their sizes. And the fact that they are both so strong willed; must be interesting." She could only imagine that it would be more like a mini battleground with those two and their warrior skills. And she continued to giggle as he positioned himself above her so he could directly into look her face. He couldn't what believe what he was hearing. "What would make you think of such a thing at such a time?" he asked. "And with my Princess no less?"

"Your Princess and lead guardian are every bit as capable as we of doing this sort of thing."

"But their honor will not allow them, no matter how great the temptation." He answered her confidently.

He kissed the grin off her face as his full lips pressed firmly to hers. All breath rushed out as his hands slipped up her body to caress her fully in ways

That he'd not been daring enough to do in the future. His kisses traced down her neck to the spot of the chest just below her collar. With warmth behind the kisses, it was a kaleidoscope of sensation. As intense as the kisses were when he was mummified this was ten times more intense!

"You're driving me mad . . . " she said through gritted teeth. "It's not nice to tease me so!"

"I am sorry I had forgotten . . . " he said, withdrawing his hand. For a moment he saw the fear cross her face. "What is wrong my love . . . I will cease if you wish me to do so . . . "

"I... don't know . . . " said she, feeling the fear all over her. "I... am so ashamed . . . you are so tempting . . . and I want to so badly . . . but . . . I just . . . cannot?"

Immediately a sort of understanding came over Rath's face. "Were you . . . violated . . . in your youth . . . perhaps?"

Surprise filled her. "How . . . would you know . . . I didn't think . . . "

"I have seen many a woman who has come to me in tears. Crying for a love potion because she was in deep pain. And . . . there is another reason."

"I... didn't think you'd understand . . . you are being so nice . . . and I know you love me . . . but . . . why can't I do it? When I want you so badly?" she cried, tears of anger coming in her face as she began to cry. Rath took her into his arms and shushed her with soothing noises. For a long time she sobbed on his shoulder as he rubbed her back.

"There, hush now . . . " he whispered, lips near her ear. "It is all right my love . . . there is no shame in it . . . it wasn't your fault . . . "

"I didn't think . . . Oh Rath I was only 6... and they were... forcing on me... I didn't know any better..." she sobbed, her story pouring out of her. "That's why... I never... Rath... it's so... embarrassing!"

"I of all people would understand something as intensely upsetting as a woman being violated? Of being deflowered before she is willing to give? Marianne, I know. For my . . . someone very dear to me was in this same predicament. I wanted so badly to love her . . . and she only held fear in her eyes for me . . . and I saw the same look in your eyes just then . . . and I cannot help but reason that it is a similar situation for you . . . "

"You . . . never cease to amaze me," she finally breathed in one choking sigh. "I want to so badly . . . I feel as if I would die if I couldn't go through with it..."

"As do I. But it must be your choice . . . and I will not force you. Even though every fiber of my being longs and aches to love you . . . "

"Please . . . " she almost whimpered. "I want it . . . to be you . . . to show me... "

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," said he, gently taking her into his arms. "To be the one who does so... my sweetness." Kissing her tears and doubts away as his hands caressed and massaged her tenseness. Laying not in dominance but alongside of her. Guiding her hand down betwixt his own legs as he caressed her hand against his firmness. To acclimate her thus. Touching her through the fabric of her sheer dress. Marianne's whimpering grew to gentle sighs as he caressed her sweetly.

"Trust me, as I trust you, Marianne," he whispered, choking back a whimper of his own pleasure as her hands explored his own body beneath the linen of his kilt. This was her way of letting him know she was ready for him to show her what he would. And what he did felt quite good. And there was no shame in it.

She nodded as he slipped aside her dress to remove it. And sat up as he unfastened the collar from around her neck, kissing that sensitive spot on her neck as the collar fell softly to the bed. His lips ran down her bare shoulder to her back's middle with a gentle caress. Turning her at last to face him as she squeezed shut her eyes. She was pressed against his fully clothed form, his collar cold against her skin. The soft fabric of his clothing felt strange to her as he embraced her. Soon his appearance matched hers. His long dark braid fell from his head, as it had been curled under the henhet he always wore. Slowly she became acquainted with his silky hair, much the texture and softness of hers.

Msirian beds were flat and firm pieces of furniture, with leather pads that were quite comfortable and inexplicably sturdy! As she glimpsed in one stolen moment she could see the initial impression of the flimsiness was in fact a clever illusion. For a reinforced framework was visible as her flailing hand brushed a curtain aside.

For Rath had by now pulled her up onto his knees under the sheets, holding her waist firmly as he gently coaxed her along. Positioning her neck upon a headrest and pillows so she was firmly cushioned before he moved into place himself. He had momentarily reached beneath the bed to extract a cedar box, which he now lay to one side of the pillow. His hands held a phial of some strange substance that he was putting on his hands. She felt the resulting liquid oil smoothed all over the sensitive parts of her body, as it soothed the burning fire that shot over her with anticipation. It was sweet smelling like incense or perfume. The scent drove her crazy! Even as he moved over her, he positioned her; moving into perfection as he leaned over at the waist. In effect he pulled her to him as he moved forwards quickly to make this as easy as possible for her.

"Oh my heavens!" she gritted through her teeth as the sweet pain racked her body.

"Am I hurting you..." he huskily asked, through his own gasps. Momentarily he stopped. Such sweetness came over him like a wave of bliss. She was so perfect. "Say the word... and I will..."

"Kindly.... do... shut up... Rath!" she shrieked in a cry that he gently cut off with his kiss. A strange sensation such as she had never experienced exploded in her brain like fireworks. It was no kidding that they were chosen long ago to represent the throes of passion. Which she was literally in. He was a true master.

"By Ra it has been far too long...!" he moaned with perfect contentment as well.

And the wave of relief as she felt her eyes rolling into the back of her skull at massive release. He ended as he kissed her deeply.

"Rath...This . . . is absolutely . . . fabulous," she said through gritted teeth as he held her yet again.

A large smile spread over his face. He said nothing as his kiss brushed her lips. "Do you . . . feel better?" he asked at last. No witty sayings. Only a simple question. She didn't know whether to hit him for saying something like that or next expecting the infernal question, "Was it good for you?"

Yet he didn't ask. "If I had known it was like this . . . I would not . .have feared it . . . "

"You have nothing to fear ever again my love," soothed he as he lowered her sweating form to the bed again. Gently he lay beside her, gasping for his own breath. "Not from me . . . nor from a memory . . .Ever . "

Sleep overcame her and she could not keep her eyes open. For the sheer exhaustion of her experience had worn her out.

END of Part 3! In the next part, find out how Amenhotep fares against a deadly threat! Will Sohkarra's powers be able to save him? And will Marianne ever acclamate to this new time? Find out how Ashake will attempt to knit back the frayed edges Sohkarra's trip has caused in part 4!