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part ways, for two of the women were bound for the western province of Nubia, while the rest of us would strike south across the desert.
    Thanks to the Lugal’s generosity, we had no lack of funding. On Kaneka’s advice, we converted a number of gifts into “trader’s coin,” heavy chains of soft yellow gold to be paid out link by link. These were given unto Joscelin’s keeping, and he wore them about his neck, hidden beneath his clothing.
    We spent lightly on supplies in Iskandria, for Kaneka assured us that everything could be had cheaper in Majibara and provisions were ample along the river. We purchased tents of oiled silk, rolled straw sleeping-pallets and a few cook-pots. I bought a broad-brimmed hat to shade my head, and a burnoose of white cotton; for the rest, I still had my Akkadian garb and the celadon riding attire Favrielle nó Eglantine had fashioned for me, which suited the climate well. The other, that I’d worn in Drujan, was long discarded.
    New clothing, then, and little more. It might almost have been a pleasure-cruise. We all dined together on our last night in Iskandria, Nesmut included. He regarded Imriel with a certain envy, for having been at the center of great events and embarking on a grand adventure. ’Twas strange, seeing them together. For all that Nesmut was the elder, he seemed the younger of the two, high-spirited and merry.
    As before, it made me think of Hyacinthe. Was he like me ? Imriel had asked, When he was a boy ? Not much, I had said; ’twas true, when he was a boy. Now ... I saw the shadows in Imri’s eyes, the memory of pain and the burden of his heredity, the hunger that surfaced as he watched Nesmut laugh, eating and drinking with a will, happy in his status. And I remembered Hyacinthe’s terrible smile and how alone he had been, how profoundly alone.
    Truth be told, I was glad Imriel was here.
    After we dined, we said our farewells, for we would be off with the dawn.
    “I am sorry,” I said to Khepri, who was the one I knew best among the Menekhetans, “that it had to be thus. You should have entered the city in procession. It is your right.”
    She smiled, taking my hand. “Tomorrow is soon enough. We would not be here, were it not for you, and I do not need processions anyway. Peace is all I ask. You have given us that. I hope you find what you need.”
    “Thank you.” I squeezed her hand. “I hope so, too.”
    Our time together was ended, our numbers dwindling.
    In accordance with our plan, we left at sunrise. It is a thing to behold, sunrise upon the delta of the mighty Nahar. Kaneka spoke truly; of all rivers, it is the greatest. In Iskandria, ’tis scarce to be discerned as a river, but an unending series of canals and waterways, placid and calm, winding through a vast expanse of green.
    We boarded in the soft hush of dawn, the air still balmy. There were two feluccas, each manned by a single Jebean. Our goods were loaded in short order and we found space aboard the vessels-Joscelin, Imriel, Kaneka and I aboard one, and Safiya and the two Nubians aboard the other. Our erstwhile captain raised a finger to test the breeze, then raised a crude stone anchor. As the slanting rays of the early sun turned the brown waters of the delta to shimmering bronze, we were on our way.
    In truth, the first leg of our journey to Jebe-Barkal was nearly a pleasure-cruise. Our feluccas with their lateen-rigged sails tacked back and forth across the sluggish waters, the sailors calling merrily to one another in Jeb’ez. The vegetation was thick and lush, tall papyrus growing along the waterways. Egrets and herons and sacred ibis picked their way along the shores, pausing statuesque to eye us as we passed, long-billed heads poised atop impossibly long necks. A gentle breeze blew at our backs and I felt, for the first time in many months, a touch of my old excitement at beginning a new journey.
    To the south of the city some hours later, the myriad waterways gradually converged and the delta gave way to the river proper, broad and stately, flowing between green banks. All manner of traffic travelled the river, from rowboats and fishing vessels to galleys and ox-drawn barges. None travelled so swiftly as the light feluccas, stitching back and forth, triangular sails canted to catch the wind.
    All along the riverbanks were villages, interspersed with plantations of wheat and sugarcane, lines of palm trees and tamarisk. We saw caravans, sometimes-camels and donkeys,