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“He doesn’t look like one of Julian’s people,” Constance noted thoughtfully.

“Yalla,” the Bedouin elaborated.

The point of his sword descended a bit closer to Neil’s throat.

“Perhaps we ought to…?” Neil squeaked.

“Oh, fine,” Constance allowed.

She raised her hands peacefully and stood. Neil inched himself from beneath the sword and joined her.

Constance’s gaze drifted over the gentleman’s admittedly fine figure. “Do you think he might be a sheikh?”

“How should I know?” Neil protested. “And why does it matter?”

“Just an idle thought,” Constance replied in a manner that did not sound at all idle. “Shall we, then?”

Without waiting for Neil to answer, she confidently set out across the cliff.

??

Thirty-One

Ellie hid inthe lee of a boulder at the top of the ridge, looking down into the steep, ragged cut of the wadi where Julian Forster-Mowbray was searching for Neferneferuaten’s tomb.

Her caravan had arrived just after sunset, finding their way to this particular gorge by following the echoing clamor of hammers and calling voices—sounds which had traveled with remarkable clarity through the still, clear air of the desert.

Night had fully fallen. Stars pricked out in a wild array from the black velvet of the sky overhead. The other members of Ellie’s party were scattered around her. Zeinab lay on her belly at the edge of the cliff, gazing down at the ledge where Julian was digging. The area was brashly illuminated by a ring of paraffin lanterns.

“I count a dozen,” she murmured. With her black abaya and headscarf, she looked like a patch of deeper shadow against the stones.

“Thirteen,” Adam corrected flatly from where he crouched beside her, watching the ledge with hawk-like focus.

Julian’s site sat about halfway down the opposite wall of the canyon. It buzzed with activity, the air ringing with the impact of picks on stones. Besides the thugs from the sun chapel, he had brought along others that Ellie assumed must be part of the crew of his boat. They served as workers, digging out rubble and carting it off to dump into the canyon.

Even if the men below had numbered only twelve, it would still have been too many. With only the three Egyptian ladies, Adam, and Sayyid, Ellie’s side was vastly outnumbered.

Not that it mattered. If it looked like Julian was close to finding the entrance to Neferneferuaten’s tomb, they would have to intercede anyway—regardless of what it cost them.

For now, Zeinab simply watched, exchanging the occasional low observation with Jemmahor as the two women quietly schemed.

Somewhere behind their perch, the flat, dark expanse of the Amarna plain lay sleeping. Ellie had caught only a glimpse of it when they had approached the wadi that evening, just enough to pick up the general impression of rubble strewn across packed earth beside the flat ribbon of the Nile. She would have given her right foot for a chance to trek down and explore the ruins of ancient Akhetaten.

So far, there had been no sign of Constance or Neil. That most likely meant that Julian had left them back on the boat—unless they had already escaped… or been ruthlessly murdered.

Ellie refused to let her thoughts linger on that last possibility. Adam had been right back at the Coptic convent. Julian had a use for both Constance and Neil—at least until he could be certain he’d found the tomb.

Adam pushed back from his place beside Zeinab at the edge of the ridge. He staggered over to Ellie and slid down against the boulder beside her. His long legs sprawled out in front of him as he closed his eyes.

“Didn’tthinkI was looking that far down,” he commented a little queasily.

“Zeinab will keep watch,” Ellie assured him sympathetically. “And you’ll probably feel better if you open your eyes again.”

“I think I’m half afraid if I do, the world will still be spinning.” Adam cracked an eye, peering over at where Sayyid sat opposite them, worriedly watching his wife. “Still a little jerky,” he concluded, closing it again.

Ellie poked him lightly in the ribs.

“Those are still bruised, you know,” Adam remarked.