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Ptolemies. How not, in a thousand and a half years? But I, I had endured the mysteries of the Temenos on the isle of Kriti, and I knew some little bit about the living worship of its eldest scions.
    Well and so; mayhap Serapis was like unto my lord Kushiel, who once maintained the brazen portals of hell for the One God of the Yeshuites. If it was so, I thought guiltily, I owed him a prayer. Only I was still wroth with Kushiel, the pattern of whose justice I had yet to decipher. If there was a greater purpose at work, I could not discern it.
    With such thoughts did I occupy my mind until we returned to the Street of Oranges, and Nesmut remanded us unto the hospitality of the lady Maharet, or Metriche, as she would have it. He left us with promises to return in the morning, and with that I had to be content, wondering if my lord Delaunay had felt the same misgivings when I departed, full of cheer, to some violent assignation.
    I’d have felt the same with Hyacinthe, if I’d known where the Lungo Drom , the Long Road of the Tsingani, would lead him. But I had been younger then, and more ignorant.
    “You know who he reminds me of?” Joscelin asked as Nesmut took his leave, his quick grin flashing in the gathering twilight.
    “Yes,” I said softly. “I know.”
    “Well.” He regarded me. “We need to talk to Amaury Trente.”
    At the dinner-table that evening, we found Lord Amaury full of his conversation with Ambassador de Penfars. There were, it seemed, numerous candidates for Pharaoh’s most dangerous enemy, but Raife Laniol’s favored contestant was one General Hermodorus; a cousin, it transpired, through the Ptolemaic bloodlines, and eligible for the throne should it suddenly become vacant.
    “Comte Raife suggests,” Amaury informed me, “that you and messire Joscelin might call upon the General, my lady. We cannot, without giving offense to Pharaoh, but you might. If it is remarked upon by the aristocracy, they will suppose that you are rivals to our mission, come to court Pharaoh’s opponents.”
    “We will send a letter of introduction on the morrow, my lord,” I said. “My lord Trente, I have heard another theory proposed today, from a Menekhetan source.”
    “Oh?” he inquired.
    I saw the Lady Denise Fleurais, who had spoken of the divide between Menekhetan and Hellene society, take notice. And I saw too that the Menekhetan servant who hovered with a tray of fish was the same who’d attended us last night, lingering with the beer-jug. We had been speaking, in company, in D’Angeline. I continued in the same tongue without altering my tone. “My lord,” I said, “there is a serpent in the corner.”
    A full half the company heard and startled, turning to stare; Joscelin was on his feet in an instant, a dagger in his hand, reversed for the throw. I kept my eyes on the Menekhetan and saw that he did not react to my words but looked instead at the reactions of our party, slow and perplexed, before glancing around.
    It paid to be cautious.
    “What serpent?” Amaury Trente asked, half-risen from his seat and irritable. “Which corner?”
    “Forgive, my lord,” I said. “I thought I saw somewhat in the shadows, and ...” I nodded imperceptibly toward the Menekhetan, “... I needed to be sure.”
    Amaury sat, comprehension dawning. Melisande was right; he was not a subtle man. Then again, it is an eternal failing of those born to the peerage, forgetting that those who attend them hand and foot have eyes and ears and minds that think. Joscelin shook his head, sheathing his daggers and returning. I waited until the rest of our company was seated.
    “It is believed among the folk of the city,” I said in a low voice, “that Pharaoh has taken the boy for his own and plays a game of concealment.”
    It hadn’t occurred to them; I saw it in their faces. I couldn’t fault them for it. It hadn’t occurred to me, either. If Amaury Trente was not subtle, he was no fool, either. He grasped the ramifications quickly enough, his expression somber.
    “If it’s so, we’ve lost the lad,” he said grimly. “Ptolemy Dikaios could never own to it. And we’ve played our hand too close to the vest to threaten to renege on the deal over a mere slave-boy.” He shook his head. “Ysandre was clear on that much. She doesn’t want the boy’s identity known. If we let slip his importance ... Elua! He’s a walking target, and she doesn’t have the means to protect him. And if someone were to use