DISCLAIMER: You know the drill by now. MA owned by DIC. Elsbeth Ashake Coulter is owned and copy written by Beth Strong. An inspiration for the songs of Ashake come from Celtic Singer Heather Alexander copywritten 1996. The new MA ff char Trinity is owned by Lyndra, but I did her bio so I get to use her for the story. My heartfelt thanks to Theresa Meyers for her support, generosity, and all the hard work she put into this and on my past work. She kicked off this story idea first. I e-med ideas, she wrote them in, I wrote some scenes and it grew from there. Godspeed, Theresa, u da bomb, girlfriend! Author's note this is an alternate story line from my own work. This one is where it sort of ,maybe this is what it could have been between Ashake and Rath.

BY Trynia Merin and Java Goddess

Egypt was absolutely gorgeous. Lapis skies drenched in turquoise, sands the color of a Chinese kylin's reddish brown scales glinting in the glory of Ra's Light. The wind was sweet, soft as the brush of lotus on skin, cooled by the mouth of Shu as the winds danced on the Nile waters. It was Projet, the time of green, on the fifth day of Parmunti. This was the time of Ptah when all of creation was in full bloom and the river exploding in a dazzling array of life and abundance that caught all in it unawares to the wonders life held. Hapi, the Goddess of Nile, smiled down upon those who traversed her waters with smiling, laughing heart.

The Breath of Horus sailed down the Nile at an even wind stripping pace that far outstripped the ibis flying on wing. Antef-Kasa was a small compact Egyptian, strong as the sacred Apis bull, built like a short date palm. His muscular arms tighten the rigging, looking over shoulder at his daughter, Trinity, who copied his movements with practiced ease. Trinity was a happy-go-lucky child with the smile of Ra on her lips while she worked. And the light of her sire's life.

"There all done," said Antef-Kasa. Trinity looked at him expectantly. "Yes, you may go say good bye."

The hair the color of tallow whipped behind her as she sped off to the bow of the ship. On the deck of the Breath of Horus, surrounded by a throng of eager listeners, sat the object of Trinity's excitement. The chestnut haired female stood straight up as a reed, her silver stringed guitar resting safely in her lap, fingers strummed the final cords of a faint love song, a voice like warm honeyed milk washed over the group, shadowily.

The Celtic bard-mage smiled as Trinity flopped into place in front of her, eager for her prize. Her soft green grey eyes looked upon the child with exceeding tenderness.

A smile broke across Trinity's heart shaped face. "Is it ready yet?"

Ashake thought a moment, the wind rustled her kilt slightly and played with her auburn tinted locks that escaped her waist length plait. "I believe so. As promised a song especially composed in exchange for the right of passage on your fine vessel."

The stringed instrument nestled in the material folds reached out with a strange sound almost as it if was alive, when the female strummed the opening chords across the silver strings with the touch of a lover's kiss. The distant smells of unknown greens and cold of a far off land set in as she played and a scene materialized before the awed crowd. A shining knight and his lady fair riding horse back on a moonstone colored steed toward a shining opalescent castle in sky.

Dragon's fire, passion's pyre wait for us, dearest one

In my refrain of endless days spent wanting and alone

Through courage's sight, simple delight is being in this way

Sun soaked days spent eclipsed within this lover's play

How clearly thee knows my heart, how well thee sees my soul

For in sighing tenderness private secrets are now untold

Come away with me to the Summerland

We walk in life's flame, holding hands

Sundered, twisting into one grand

The ring that binds us, our wedding band

Crystal castles in the sky

Love is never that reason why

But the fate of all that life holds

Draw abreast into the passion's fold

Like a phoenix in the fire

Our love raises from the pyre

Born anew on gossamer wings

Trembles, falling like a mistral's strings

Vibrating in the echoing sound

Faith, hope, love abound

Crystal castles in the sky

Fate is always the reason why

That angels weep, sing, and cry

For love like ours can never die

The faint silvery sounds fades with her last chords, sighing like the wind on the glittering dunes. Trinity clapped her hands, Tswaren, her pet mongoose, rustled form his favorite napping place from the bag on her waist. The mongoose yawned mightily, poked out his whisked nose at the commotion, then went back to sleep.

The audience cheered and clapped. Elspeth smiled. Hui and Hori, Trinity's identical twin brothers, ran past shrieking like kites. Trinity cuffed both on the head at their disrespect to the wondering bard.

Hui rubbed his youth side lock. "What did we do?"

Hori rolled his eyes. "It was just a dumb old love song."

Trinity raced after the pair as they sped off again. Sweet Isis, those two are be the ruin of me, thought the girl, as the twins climbed onto the barrels and ropes.

The bard fished around in her belt bag for something. Elspeth lite her pipe with a finger in the bowl. Slinging her guitar over her shoulder, she walked to the railing, taking in the lapis sky and jewel blue Nile, as she smoked in silence.

The wonder troupe she was part of had dazzled the Jade Emperor's court in Asia Minor. Now the leader, Mufasa, had deemed time to conquer Egypt! Valentine and his wife, Raina, practiced their juggling act with sharp knives. Illusionist Wenisa wowed the twins by conjuring up a live white hare from his purple pointed hat, tuning it into flowers petals the next minute. The rest of the gang was getting their supplies ready for their departure.

"Port of Memphis, dead ahead as the ibis flies!" called Antef-Kasa, manning the rudder above the bard. The Breath of Horus sailed into the harbor with the majesty of her given name.

**********************************************************

The market crowded and dull as usual. As Rath waited for Tia and Nefer to return from their errands. JaKal's wife was helping the palace staff with the preparations for the coming feast that evening. Nefer went along as basket boy to assist in bringing back whatever Tia purchased.

Rapses studies were over for the day. Rath had been ordered by his own Pharaoh himself to take a half day from his tutoring and magic and scrolls. And at least see the things of the market.

The street performers were simple tumblers, a fire breather came by. Rath yawned behind his hand, blinking and bored in the mid morning heat. His back to the Temple of Ptah, where he had payed his private homage to his main god, just moments ago was still as his mind. After the tribute, there was not much to do, but wait.

His palm frond green gaze looked over the milling crowd. . . . And his heart stopped a beat . .there is the market place was a goddess. . . no a vision walking towards him.

Rath could not see her face in the sea of Egyptians bantering in the square, but caught the sight of her pale skin amid the bronze ones chattering and yelling. The woman was striding by, bare footed, kicking up little puffs of dust. She was tall, supple spined, moving with a confidence loose swing of her hips that caused all to move aside and stared at the strange foreigner.

The effect she have on her agape audience seemed lost on her, she seemed to be looking for something.

Rath snorted, bare footed barbarien! Indeed! None of Egypt's loveliest flowers would never so boldly walk down the street with that arrogance . .but still there was something compelling about that lithe form as she passed the scribe. Her clothing was outlandishly warm for the desert. He could not see her face clearly it was blocked by a ridiculous woven hat. The basket in her arms was filled with a red fruit, one Rath didn't recognized. Setting her burden down , she waved her hand in the heat.

Not accostumed to the desert heat are you, me little barbarien Rath thought. Then his steeled eyes followed the contours of the supple body . . they were like the curves of the sand dunes. Rath felt his throat tighten, his nails digging into his palms, trying to release the grip on himself.

The foreigner continued to look around, drinking from a water skin at her side. Rath's eyes traveled the length of her body not once but three times . . Noting the sway of her svelte hips under the tight leathers clenching, loosening, clenching loosening as she walked up to seller asking a question. Must have just gotten off ship judging by her scruffy appearance the Scribe wondered as she returned to her basket. She loosen the lacings on the sides of her trousers, as a slight breeze fluttered the heavy material a long pale leg that must have been moon kissed by Thoth, flashed in the slit. The scribe glimpsed a round muscled derriere, thighs that went on forever as she stood, clutching the basket once more and went on her path through the weaving citizens.

Rath stiffened and straighten, nearly tripping at the vision leaving his lusty gaze. He glanced at the white marks in his hands, then looked up as the object of his sudden desire vanished. No . .don't go please I beseech thee come back . .my Isis, my Hathor made flesh . . come back! My lady, my love.

He craned his neck, darting between two men carrying netted fowl towards the Temple of Ptah. He walked briskly, with purpose, the came to where she last was then she vanished from his sight. The scribe ran into the throng, desperate, yet not knowing why on the trial of this heat vision that over took him like a fever.

*************************************************************

Tia and Nefer caught up with each at the fruit stand as agreed. Tia had a full baskets of pomegranates and grapes. Nefer tucked two melons under each arm.

"Will this all fit in the chariot?" asked Tia.

"Of course," said Nefer, "if it doesn't, Rath can walk back to the palace!"

Tia laughed, her voice that of a singing bird. "You know how Rath hates having to go through the rekkit (poor district). Still anything to get the cloistered sage out form his study for any length of time is a blessing."

Nefer followed JaKal's wife leading their way. The street performers were readying up another set in the center of the market. Nefer caught a faint sight of fire and smoke and bumped squarely into someone, someone very tall dressed in green and leather. The melon under her right arm fell and was saved by the stranger who handed it back with a white toothed smile under a large woven hat.

"Here," said the strange female. "Are you alright?"

Nefer gazed into eyes that were a shade of green she had never imagined before that dance with an elfin twinkle. Her scent was shade and sweet water combined, of moist fresh earth. "Thank you, I am sorry. . I wasn't looking where I was . . "

"None taken," she said, righting the basket on her hip.

Tia watched the two exchange pleasantries. "Have you just gotten off ship?" The idea of a newcomer excited the young wife.

"As a matter of fact, I just did," the foreigner smiled at Tia.

"Where did you hail from?" asked Nefer, looking at the unfamiliar red fruit contained in her basket, curiously.

"Shall we put down out burdens?" offered the stranger. "I have water to share."

"Gladly," Tia said, drinking from the skin handed to her. Nefer drank next.

"Oh forgive me, I have recently come from that land of Chin," she squinted a stream into her mouth, the let the water splash her sweating face. "Whew . .not used to this heat. The troupe I traveled with entertained the Jade Emperor and his court."

"The land of Chin?" whispered Nefer. "Is it far from our land?"

"Very," said the stranger, and gave them both a piece of fruit from her basket. "This is an apple. Try one."

Nefer smelled the fruit, and crunched into hers. Nodding her approval, Tia did the same. "Crisp and cool!"

"We have trees on the ship just filled with fruit. Too many to eat . .since your two are natives . .do you know where I could sell these or perhaps the local temple would like them as an offering? "

"The temple of Ptah be most grateful for these . .apples," suggested Nefer.

"Where is it?"

"The way you came," Tia pointed behind them, "around the water steps on the right."

"The building I just past . .it figures," sighed the stranger.

Well, excellent news and thank you for your help." She picked up her basket and walked away. "Shade and Sweet Water, " she called over her shoulder.

"Shade and Sweet Water?" Nefer said.

"Must be a greeting where she's from," Tia replied.

Suddenly, Rath appeared. Flustered and sweating at the brow. His breath in gasps. He looked around, then fumed screwing up his handsome features in miffed expression like he had lost something.

"Where have you been?" Nefer noted his gasping for breath. "You look as if you stepped out of the desert and into a mirage shimmer vision."

" Oh, nothing. . .I was merely out for a brisk stroll . . . .exercise you know," said Rath, searching the crowd for his goddess of delight, but she was gone.

Tia gave the scribe a basket. Rath looked at the offered thing like it was a viper. The scribe chuckled, "You don't really expect me to perform manual labor. It is beneath my station as . . "

Tia thrust the basket into his arms fed up with the gaunt one's admonishments. "Either that or you can walk back!"

Rath stammered his refusal as Tia picked up the remained basket and huffed off. "Really, of all the cheeky . ." he said turning after to follow JaKal's wife on the way back to the chariot.

Nefer pitched the apple core at his green and gold stripped henhet. The crown slide down covering his eyes. Rath swore, straightened it, peering out from under the crown at the charioteer whistling smugly to himself as he passed by.

*****************************************************

Memphis was not the only capitol, for the major seat of power resided at Thebes. Yet loving the city of Memphis, Amenhotep the Great had a mighty palace built there where his Great High Wife and son Rapses had their primary residence. For a long time now Rath lived within sight of these mighty walls, educating the Prince in the ways of hieroglyphics and Magic. It was his task to help prepare Rapses for the rigors of court life.

That included meeting all visitors with the proper respect. Now, only weeks before the Prince's ninth Birthday, great preparations were being made for the birthday feast. It was a great occasion, marked by diplomatic visits and multiple journeys. That also meant the arrangement of a marriage contract for Rapses. Along with the visiting nobles from Lower Egypt were a wandering band of travelers that made it a point to amuse. They had just arrived a week ago from Asia Minor, making their rounds to all the local monarchs.

Yet as the company turned to bow, Rath's eyes almost popped out of his head. A pair of bright eyes met his for a brief moment as he saw her face, shadowed beneath the bowl shaped hat. Respectfully she bowed. Yet as her head snapped up again their eyes locked. In that instant time stopped.

The first time he lay eyes upon her he could not believe it. Just how a woman could get away with wearing such outlandish clothes was beyond him. Rath snorted with disapproval as he regarded the new visitors to Amenhotep's mighty court.

Yet his heart secretly leapt. It was her! That strange woman from the marketplace! Right here in front of him. Screwing up his self control he pretended not to notice her. Yet inside he felt his emotions churning. For she stared right at him. Rath's knees shook, and the queer feelings writhed in his stomach like a brood of young asps. He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath till Armon's golden arm thumped him in the back. "Hey," he rumbled. "Are you reciting a spell?"

"No, of course not," Rath hissed to the Bodyguard, Armon. They both stood at attention beside the young Prince, on one of the tiers of the throne. Amenhotep himself sat on his mighty falcon throne, his Wife to one side, and his Son to the other. JaKal stood to the Queen's side, keeping both blue eyes fixed firmly upon the visitors. Charioteer Nefer rose from the steps, and went to stand at JaKal's side.

"Who is that," Rath muttered to Nefer, who came to stand next to them behind the Prince. Amenhotep's greeting to the traveling troupe rambled on.

"They're the entertainment this month," Nefer whispered. "All the way from a distant land... called Ch-in..."

"I thought that place was a myth," muttered Armon. Nefer shushed him.

"I welcome you to my Great house. Be assured you will be extended the hospitality due you. May your entertainment prove most interesting for the Prince's birthday!"

"Permit me to thank you with a song from our bard," said the leader of the troupe.

The lady stepped forwards, and bowed. From her back she drew a strangely shaped harp, made of dark wood. A sweet melody came from the strings she caressed. It had a curved top with a pillar shaped bow joining it at the top. Golden strings twanged as a strange language cloyed and clustered into their ears. It was enchantment itself.

When she had finished, a smile came over Amenhotep's face. "Most enjoyable. What is your Bard's name, good lord?"

"I am the Lady Ashake," said she. "I greet you on behalf of Eire... distant island of green fields and high trees, emerald in it's nature, and brimming with ancient magic like your mighty land! May we find great hospitality in these walls, and may your beloved son grow strong and fast this day to the next! And may fate be kind to your house!"

"You honor us with your presence, milady. You have my leave to go. Escort them to their places in the House. They have my permission to be shown the wonders of Memphis... and the might of Msir, united kingdom of Doshret and Khemet..."

As the guards escorted the troupe away, Rath turned to Nefer and the Prince. "That's one hell of a Bard, you gotta admit," Nefer said.

"She is beautiful," Rath muttered, a faraway look in his eyes.

"Hey, Rath, come in Rath!" Nefer said to him.

"Mmph. It's a wonder they let women in that strange kingdom go about in such clothing," Rath muttered, a look of disapproval upon his face. For a moment he actually softened his gaze. Yet now the old Rath they knew had resurfaced. "What sort of a kingdom is this Eire anyway?"

"One I wish I could visit," Nefer sighed.

"Yeah. If their women are all like that," Armon said. "I wonder what they eat there?"

"You and your appetite," Rath sniffed.

"If it's apples, I'm all for a visit," Nefer laughed.

If looks could kill, Nefer would be instantly slain by the glare Rath threw his way. As he remembered the apple core so spiritedly tossed in his general vicinity... With a small gesture Rath summoned a quick spell. A whispered chant and Nefer suddenly started breaking into a fit of sneezing.

"Er, you really must be careful when sampling this new fruit," Rath said, the paragon of innocence. "Could carry all sorts of new... plants that could wreak havoc..."

Nefer sneezed one final time before he realized Rath had slipped away.

*******************************

The West winds troupe was lead down a long series of halls dotted with huge thick columns painted in eye smarting colors of blue, white, red, bronze, and more Elspeth could not put a name to as the servants of the Pharaoh wove expertly between them and usual palace traffic. Her guitar thumping on her back, the Celt craned her neck this way and that is see everything at once. There was too much to see! She wanted to look at the sight all at once. She stopped in front of a beautiful wall painting of the royal family. The colors screamed their litany to her eyes of Amenhotep giving thanks to Ptah, the God of Memphis, with the Queen and Heir beside the king. She noted the size difference between the giant Pharaoh and his smaller family. Either he was protecting them or his is a braggart of his own importance.

Silently, Rath came up upon the strange female staring at the paintings. The scribe ducked behind a pillar as she passed admiring the handiwork. She muttered in an unknown language and sang as she walked. He caught the sent of her. Moist. Cool. Like the air after a rain storm.

Rain fell very rarely in Egypt. Only for a few short days before the Spring Floods. Then his rational mind spoke. She has been at sea for who knows how long and who knows long it has been since she has had a bath? Still, there was the dusty musky scent of travel on her along with the sweet scent. It is disgusting . . filthy unschooled barbarian.. .But that scent. . . I like it! The woven hat was still on her head. Longing to behold that exquisite countenance one more, Rath crept closer and peered from the pillar to gaze at her again. His heart was in his throat as she turned away. Please just glance this way once I beg you! Then I will be content! Then she tilted her head upward and Rath saw the profile of her classic features etched on her face. Perfection! She tilted the woven hat up slightly the leather straps biting into her pale skin.

Elspeth circled the think column next to the wall. More domestic tasks of the Royals: Hunting, governing, at play. She then stopped at the sight of an exact duplicate of the Charioteer who she met earlier that week then saw again just moments ago in the throne room. And saw the Prince Rapses guardians next to the heir all holding instruments of their craft. A blue clad hunter with a bow. A large hulking fellow carrying a spear and shield. A tall, lean older man holding a scribe's kit and papyrus. Oh there you are, my beauty . .the one with the pretty eyes I saw in the throne room she thought and tentatively traced the contours of the scribe's face with a finger. So stoic, taciturn, almost arrogant . .well my proud beauty, you don't frighten me with that basilisk stare of yours! She kissed her two fingers, then place the indirect kiss on the painting's lips.

The Celt laughed, throaty and full. Then a feeling of another's presence surmounted her aura. She reached out with her mind and mystically felt if anyone one was there. Och, I really too tightly wrapped up, she cursed herself. Then ran off to catch up with the troupe.

Rath came out from his hiding place. And watched as the vision was out of sight. Then turned to where she stood by his likeness. He placed his fingers to his twin's lips then slowly to his own. Then he pressed his face against the cool stone of the pillar that bit into his cheek. Tears welled in his eyes as his emotions threatened to over take him. Oh Ptah, why is it that I can still smell her?

**********************************************

The bathing center was packed with pretty Msirian servants that all to readily helped the troupe with their clothes. Mufasa, their leader was being washed by pair of Nubian slaves all who but laughed at his wondering hands. It had been too long a sea voyage. Valentine and Raina, the old marrieds, were washing each other as hands washed their hair, smiling sweetly at the love birds. Their children, who were the tumblers of the troupe, all three of them splashed in deep pool shrieking with delight. Wenisa, the old illusionist, tried his best to keep them in his sight.

Elspeth ran into the bath, breathless. "I though I'd never find you! This place is as huge as the Jade Emperor's palace." Mufasa eyed his singer, "Where have you been? Come and get the stench off your skin."

No sooner did Mufasa speak than five bathing servants began to undress the Celt. One took her instrument. She refused to let go, but placed the guitar tenderly down in the linens asking them not to move her precious one. The servants eyed each other at the stranger's request. These foreigners talked to their instruments . . .very strange. When the guitar was safely away, the washing girls reached for the lady's raiment and undressed the bard with an efficiency of a well oiled machine. Stripped naked, the Celt all but jumped into the water! Ah, to be clean again and throughly. And to stay that way. It has been too long. One thing Elspeth couldn't fault the Egyptians on was their fastidious rites of cleanliness.

Bronze skinned washing girls cried out with laughter as she surfaced shaking her head, sighing in delight. They seemed to understand. The Celt stood up as three began to rub natron and soap fat into her skin. One girl blushed at the sight of her high full breasts slapping together as they washing the stink of the journey off. Elspeth smiled at the child, who averted her eyes shyly.

The bard sighed as the pleasure of the simple act of bathing relaxed the tension of the trip from his body. Lotus scented water poured over head rinsing the soap away.

Henqueseb, the royal cosmetian, clapped his hands. The girls bowed and left the lady's side. "Come now stand up and let's have a look at you!" His tone was brusque, matter of fact.

Elspeth shrugged and stood, gliding out of the pool reluctantly. Dripping wet, she faced Henqueseb, who face was as stern as a granite statue and rarely even hinted at mirth. "Turn around."

His hands felt the white skin roughly going over her arms, legs, and face with a fast and practiced ease. " A trifle dry," he stated. He felt the texture of the her hair, murmuring his approval at its softness even damp. "Face me, " he ordered. Elspeth did so. He sternly took her face scrutinizing tilting her chin this way and that. "You kept her skin in reasonably good condition on your travels. Her eyebrows must be plucked. And mix olive oil into her hair for good measure."

Henqueseb finished his appraisal with her hands, "Excellent ." That's when the servant girl pulled the chestnut hair back from her front and revealed Ra's plenty . . . "Holy Hathor!" he exclaimed averting his gaze at the sight of the enormous mounds thrusting proudly from her chest . . .the lithe curves of her slender frame . . the long shapely tapered legs. . and busied himself with the inspection of her feet. "However, your feet are atrocious condition."

The cosmetian barked more orders. Elspeth hands and feet were exfoliated with salt and crushed almonds. Her body was shaved of the fine hair on her arms and legs. Next came the painful plucking of the her underarms and genitals. They work was quickly done. Then she joined the rest of her group at the tables for the massage. The young boys vied for the privilege of caressing oils into this lady's skin. Elspeth sighed at the pampering as the boys glared at each other as they touched the lovely stranger.

"Heartbreaker," teased Mufasa. "Jealous?" she returned, touching a boys cheek who flushed,"Och, you are so cute."

Wenisa shook his head. It was always the same. Elspeth couldn't help what she was. Being so strong an Empath her power drew people to her like a moth to a flame. She didn't have to try. And when she turned on the charm . . . but the old man tried not to remember the time when the Jade Emperor's son wanted to abduct their singer as his concubine. That was a sticky mess.

The old illusionist watched Valentine and Raina with their masseurs. The girl unknotting his back was splendid! This Egypt was quite a place!

**********************************************

Rath looked closely at the wondrous sight in his scrying dish. The crystals gleamed with magical energy as he focused his Sight on the water. The image of Mufasa appeared. "NO!" he shouted at the image. "I want to see her!" The scene rippled and was replaced by the pale skinned barbarian with the wondrous eyes. He spoke a spell. The image in the scrying dish floated up becoming three dimensional. Rath sat back in his chair. Fingers steepled at his mouth he watched the ritualistic bathing with a stern gaze. At his command the image turned to where he could best view the splendid vision. The scribe smiled tenderly at the naked bard receiving her attentions . . then her image looked in his direction, winked, and pursed her lips in a faint kiss.

Rath's heart froze! She knows . .knew that I was . . His mouth dropped fully as she turned back talking to her companion. Waving his gauntleted hand, the image disappeared. Breathing hard, he leaned on the work table, his emotions in utter turmoil, shaking like a palm leaf in the wind.

**********************************************

Armon was getting hungry. That was a bad sign. It was nearly Re, noon time. The entertainers were on a sight seeing trip through Memphis this morning. The last stop was the Temple of Ptah on a long list of points of interests throughout the shining city. The soldier has seen it all before. Stifling a yawn, he stretched his arms and scratched his cheek with the golden thumb of his mechanical arm. The West winds troupe listened to the priest extolled the virtues of their creator god in true Msirian sciatic metaphors and flowered phrases. Why couldn't we go to the Temple of Hathor? At least they feed you!

Armon had the strangers sorted out by now. Mufasa was a great pal someone who could actually arm wrestle with him and win, left handed, of course. The husband and wife were nice and their kids were really cute. The old man made him laugh. But his favorite was sitting by the steps telling a story to a gathered crowd. Nefer and Prince Rapses were part of the throng. Elspeth was retelling the tale of Mulan, a story from land of Chin. How a young girl disguised as man become a soldier in the Jade Emperor's army and saved many lives. Nefer had heard this story so many times, he stopped counting.

Armon saw that Nefer has become very attached to the Bard in such a short time. As did young Rapses. Who constantly at her side begging for entertainment, company, or attention. The Prince was showing all the signs of a younger child having a crush on a much older women. The green eyes heir would command anyone sitting close to her to move so he could sit in his favorite spot in her lap!

"And so with battle won, thanks to Mulan's quick thinking and courage, the land of Chin was saved. Even though she was a female, from the lowest cast of society, she proved that honor, truth, and perseverance are traits in all born under the Mighty Buddha's Land, not just in the nobility of the high born."

"Did she get married?" quipped a black hair girl holding her pet monkey close.

"That is unknown," Elspeth shrugged, "some legends say she remained a soldier in the Emperor's army until the end of her days. Others tell the tale of her greatest enemy killing her when she found her secret. But yes, I like to think that Mulan did eventually marry and have a family so long denied her in the service of the beloved king." The bard eyes moved to Nefer in the audience, smiling. Nefer coughed and lowered his gaze. "That's all the stories for now, children. This story teller has to rest her voice for tonight's feast."

A chorus of "ahs" and " darns" were voiced but the Celt was firm in her decision. Nefer could only watch the children leave sighing. Elspeth regarded the young man with a soft smile.

"They're really cute, you know. When do plan on having any?"

Nefer shrugged. "My duty to the prince come first." Still it seemed the right course of action with people. Tia and JaKal seemed blissfully happy. Armon had more women than he knew what do with. The Bodyguard even tried to set him up once on a double date. Now Rath was falling over himself to try and not be impressed by the lady standing in front of Nefer this moment. The only thing I ever wanted to do besides play music . .was to drive the chariots. Speed was everything to me. The wind in my face . . the horse's power. . .the sheer joy of movement around me. Now. . Nefer thought and tried not to look painful at what really on his mind To live my dream in the world of my beloved Prince, I never thought about the consequences of what I may have to sacrifice in order for its continued life. I will give up marriage, children .. . even love for my decision to become a man in a world run by males. All I ever wanted was to drive . . now I'm not so sure.

Nefer walked away from the stairs and down to the waiting chariots. Petting Geb and Nut's noses, the equines nuzzled the him looking for treats. Nut whickered, pushing his neck into his arms. Sometimes he was more at home with the animal instead of people. "Did you like my story, Nefer?" Elspeth asked, coming up beside the startled guardian.

"Yes, I never tire of hearing the tale of the heroic Mulan. She seemed a woman ahead of her time," he said, wistfully. "Is there anyplace you would like to go, my lady? The tour won't be done for another two hours."

"The market place," answered the Celt, "I haven't seen much of the yet."

Nefer helped her into the celeche (Egyptian: chariot). With a an expert snap of the reigns, the horses were off like the sunlight on water. A ride through the streets of Memphis was a sight for the eyes, but not for the nose. As advanced as the Egyptians were in science, architecture, magic, and mathematics, Memphis did not have a sewage system. Refuse was thrown into the street and then collected and carried to a pit near the Nile. The desert heat made the smell worse. The rekkit district was behind them now. "I'm sorry about the odor, Lady Ashake," said Nefer, "Should I procure a sweet smelling lotus for you delicate nose as we journey?"

"Why should I bury my nose in a perfumed linen when all of Msir's poor suffers this?" she replied, hands on the gold hand rest. "It sort of smells like Lord Scarab after his morning exercises with Armon." Nefer laughed loudly. He liked this lady very much. I only wish that I could walk as freely as myself as you do is all. And be excepted as Nefertina not as Nefer.

"What's on your mind, lad?" asked Elspeth, as the horses pulled to a stop. She stepped lightly down from the carriage. "You didn't bring me all the way out here just to see the market place. What is that's breaking your heart?"

Nefer lead them to a secluded spot by the Nile away from prying ears. The helmeted guardian dressed in white and grey linens stood silently on the banks of the river looking out over the blue waters running past. " I have heard you speak of your land, Britannia. Where the woman can walk as freely as men do, even fight at their side in war. Even have a greater standing in marriage if she brings more wealth into the dowry than the man. Is this all true?"

"Ay, it is," said the Bard, "But don't go thinking that we Celts are it all figured out. I have travailed to many places and I must confess that out to all the them from what I've seen of Egypt in this short time, the women of the society enjoy far more freedom and equality than any other. We, Celts, are not as scientifically advanced as the Egyptians, but our magic is as ancient and powerful. Our magic is drawn from the earth, air, water and fire. It is more natural then yours."

"It sounds wonderful," Nefer sighed. An ibis flew by and landed in the water as they watched the Nile for awhile in silence. "Mulan would have just taken her do."

"That's why I told the tale to the court. But I really told the tale for you, Nefer." The wind played with her long dark brown ringlets escaping from the coifed braid.

"For me?" queried the charioteer. His blue eyes shining for a moment.

"You and she have much in common," said the Bard.

Nefer paled suddenly at the weight of the Celt's words hit him like Armon golden arm in his solar plexus. He gulped, and walked away avoiding her green grey gaze. "I don't' know what you mean . . "

Elspeth placed her hand on his shoulder. "Why did you hide, Nefertina?"

Nefer gaped at her incredulously. "How did . .when did . you . . ?"

"I've known since I first met you," she said. "I know that women aren't allow to drive the chariots. But that's not the real reason why you hide yerself. You are the Prince's royal guardian now. You are respected and loved by your peers. Perhaps it would be more beneficial if. . ."

"You don't understand!" Nefer yelled, throwing her hand off. "If the Amenhotep finds out I have deceived him I. . my family will be publicly disgraced. Msir is not like your Britannia! And . how Sobek bite all men that . . . I wish it were!"

Elspeth sighed. "I know the you're scared. You have every right to be. You do what ye think is best. I'll not betray ya. Your secret is safe with me."

Nefer looked at her new friend. "Thank you. I never had anyone to confide in since the change. It has been nearly ten years since I last saw my father." Then he became sober again.

"What is it, Little One?" Elspeth asked. "What is the reason?"

His shoulders shuddered, then he buried his face into Elspeth shoulder and wept like a baby. The bard comforted the masquerading girl holding her close. "Hush now, shshsh, it all right.

"It was your father, wasn't it?"

Nefer sobbed harder. "He . .he," the charioteer choked on the words, "He never wanted me. All he wanted was a son. I disguised myself as a boy to race in the chariot games. I won. I bested them all. Then father came up to me . .and said . . he wished he had a son like . . "

"Shsh, it's alright, child," soothed Elspeth, "Let it all out."

Nefer cried a torrent of tears for a long time until there were no more. Her face was streaked with black and white with kohl. The bard ripped linen from her kilt wiping her clean.

"Well, you certainly have had better luck keeping yerself hidden all these years as flat chested as ye are. Can you imagine me trying to pull off what you've done? With these chest of mine?"

She indicated her melon like breasts straining in the linen top and green leather vest. "No they never would have suspected me!"

Nefer laughed. Perhaps things were not as bad as they seemed.

**********************

Rath was waiting impatiently outside the water steps by the Temple of Ptah. He paced, tapped his foot, paced some more. Armon was napping in the shade with Prince Rapses propped up next to him. The chariot came to a swift stop with the two passengers laughing and chattering like a pair of birds. Rath could see that they had a good time. Elspeth reached over and kissed the charioteer on the forehead with a lingering tenderness that made the scribe boil under his henhet and his fists balled up in angst.

"Just where have you been?" he bellowed loudly. "We have been waiting!"

"Keep yer hat on, Green eyes," chided the Celt, "Nefer was just being kind enough to show me the intimate sights of yer fair Memphis. The Nile is beautiful this time of day." She grinned and it as if Ra had spoken.

Rath snorted, folding his arms in his usual belligerent stance when affronted with something he could not cope with, then turn his head to the side, lifting his nose in the air. "Well, you both certainly took your time. The Prince is hungry."

"I'm hungry, too," complained Armon.

"You're always hungry," laughed Prince Rapses, climbing into Nefer's chariot.

"Coming, Green eyes?" invited Elspeth, still grinning.

"Most certainly not," the scribe went over to Kenna's chariot, "I will not ride with that . .female." He muttered under his breath. Nefer looked back at the green and gold guardian curiously and was favored with the most withering glare in those intense green eyes that would curdle fresh milk! What did I do? Nefer wondered as he snapped the reigns.

*************************************************************

JaKal leaned over the railing, just as the basket launched itself, as Tia tripped over a kitchen girl who in turn fell forward when the Prince Rapses burst into the kitchen like a miniature sandstorm on two legs.

"My prince," lectured JaKal, "you are not allowed in the servants domain. It is not seemly for the high born to dwell with the low. . "

"Lady Ashake comes here. Why can't I?" whined Rapses freshly washed and dressed in white linen kilt and blue and gold beaded collar. "When are we going to the tombs?"

Amenhotep had given his son the day off lessons to accompany him on a royal visit to the burial place of the of the Pharaohs. Amenhotep wished to see the progressed being made on his personal tomb. Reluctantly, Rath nodded and agreed with his superior, saying it would be a good opportunity to see if Rapses had been paying attention in classes. He planned on giving Rapses a pop quiz on reading the hieroglyphs written on the walls when they got there.

Elspeth entered the kitchen with a swish of fringe and swaying gait. "Fair marrow, all,"she chimed, "How are we this fine morning?"

JaKal smiled at the Lady Bard remembering her lively tales from the night before. Tia got her some beer and bread as friendly exchanges were made between them. The hunter knew that his wife was very fond of the Celt. Outside of lessons or any royal goings on, Prince Rapses hardly left her side like they were tethered to each other. Rath was not amused by this foreigner. The scribe remained as neutral about her as anything, even at times angry in her presence.

"We are going on an outing, Lady Ashake," JaKal moved Rapses to the door, "To take the prince to pay his respects at the House of Eternity."

"Sounds fun and exciting," Elspeth popped that last crumb of bread into her mouth. "May I walk out with you?"

JaKal nodded and they left.

***************************************

Amenhotep was waiting by the stables. Young and handsome. A blue kilt wrapped around his waist and is upper body impressibly muscled under a wrap around matching Horus falcon shaped collar. A hooded afnet covered his head. Quite the Pharaoh of Egypt! Elspeth silently thought.

"Father!" called Rapses. "Can Lady Ashake come with us?"

Amenhotep blinked at his sa'a (beloved son) request. And smiled warmly. For he too had fallen under her charm as well. "Yes, that would be most pleasant. What say you, Fair Ashake, most gifted of Hathor's maids?"

This Egyptians sure know how to make you feel so very important with their titles and all. "I would be honored, your majesty," she bowed.

The ride was cool and easy in the morning light. Nefer let the Geb and Nut have full rein of motion, running faster than the wind along the dusty road. Elspeth was in love with the speed and mobility of the chariot. She could understand now why Nefer has chosen her current path. It was invigorating!

************************************

Rath met them at the House of Eternity. Dressed all in his familiar colors, his face was stern and solid as the stones of the pyramids of Giza, and just about as flexible. The Scribe greeted his master with loving praise and pretty words that flew out of his thick pursed lips like rich date wine. He said his pleasantries to JaKal, Rapses, and Nefer. Then his sight fell on . . her stepping off the chariot and froze. His wide mouth pulled into a half smile that quickly disappeared into a mocking twisted frown.

Lady Ashake was dressed in Msirian attire more often lately saving her leathers for entertaining. She took off the stupid woven hat she was partial to wearing to ward off Ra's light. Her chestnut hair was piled up on her head coifed into a braid held up by . .two highly polished . .sticks with hanging strings of shining beads. A pale green ribbon was twined into the hair and as Ra's light hit it the auburn highlights glinted. The blouse was very brief, V necked plunging then wrapped around snake like. Over that was her ever present green vest silver stitched with mythical animals that he didn't know: a one horned horse and a winged lizard breathing fire. Her cream colored kilt was short, pleated, and slitted for easy movement tied off with bronze sash with amazing spirals designs etched into the material. Gold sandals much like his own covered her feet. Nothing tugged at his heart strings more than the sight of Elspeth come towards him, bright and smiling as a happy babe with Rapses at her side.

The scribe motioned them inside. JaKal lead the way, followed by Amenhotep, Rapses, Nefer, and Elspeth. The tomb was dark, but cool. Dust clung everywhere as the torch danced off white walls with life sized figures in colors so bright, they hurt. Rath began his report as the progress of Amenhotep's resting place. Elspeth listened with a detached ear, looking at the painting instead, but listening intently to his every word. The torch gutted, smoking, then when out.

Rath spoke a spell and the floor lighten with pale radiance. Amenhotep nodded his approval, but it seemed to Elspeth the light was still poor. "Galadriel lathorien eluthian!" she intoned, gesturing in a figure eight, snapping her fingers. A palm sized ball the light blazed in her hand. She tossed it in the air where it floated. At her next command, the light ball levitated towards Rath. The light was enough to illuminate the entire hallway!

Rath held his breath. "Just tell it where to go and it will obey," said the Celt. All where in awe as she walked down that hall like nothing happened. "UMM, yes, quite," sputtered the scribe giving the light ball a command, "Go ahead two feet and follow as we move." The ball did as said. Amenhotep muttered a prayer to Ra.

The tour lasted a long time. Along the twisting corridors, the group finally came to the main burial chamber. It was timeless like all of Egypt thought Elspeth. The walls painted in scenes of the living engaging in recreation be enjoyed in the afterlife. "As you can see Mighty Amenhotep, all is going according to plan. The workers are certainly putting forth there finest efforts to ensure that your rest of bountiful and gracious. . . " That's when Rath noticed no one was paying attention to him. All eyes were on Rapses playing the Orb of Ra Elspeth summoned to illuminate their path. The Prince put his afnet head cloth on the ball telling it to go up, down, spin, loop the loop, dim, brighten, or anything he spoke it did. The delighted Heir clapped and laughed amused by the spectacle. Even Amenhotep began to ask Elspeth questions of the origins of the spell. Nefer and JaKal laughed as they watched their Prince play.

"This incantation is most wondrous!" exclaimed the Pharaoh. "How long does it last?"

"That depends on the strength of the caster of the spell," explained Elspeth. "A glass ball can be enchanted permanently with this spell which can be activated on command that would last indefinitely. As long as the magic item was recharged on a regular basis. . .oh say every full moon with the proper ritual."

"Most impressive," Amenhotep said, "Who was the great wizard who taught you this spell?"

"Ah no one. . .your Kingship, " the Celt looked sheepishly and shrugged. "I . . I made it up myself. I used to explore caverns like this in Greece. I needed a more reliable source of light then a torch . . you see . . "

"Extraordinary!"

"It is nothing but a simple light spell!" admonished the bard.

"Can you teach this spell to Rath? And make up more of these Orbs of Ra?" asked the Pharaoh.

"This new incantations will be a great asset to the builders and painters of the tombs."

Rath raged inside . .this upstart teach him! The greatest wizard in all of Khemet, or Doshret!

"Well, yes, if I was supplied with the proper materials, "she pondered, "I'll have run some tests to see what can be done . . "

"You shall have it," Amenhotep turned to Rath, " Scribe, you will see that Lady Ashake has everything she requires for these experiments."

"As you wish, Amenhotep," bowed the scribe, his ears burning. This barbarian Celt dared to make a fool of him in front of his own Pharaoh.. . .but she didn't seem to know what she did. Lovely, pale skinned . .. . . . . . Bared footed savage whose innocent eyes pierce my very ka with her very depth of wonderment. Oh Thoth, help me not lose myself in those green limpid pools of jade that fixed on me like a cobra's coils around it's prey.

Rath gained their attention and moved on around the room. Elspeth looked at the walls far off in the corner. Rath excused himself from the group to join her by wall.

"Are you enjoying your stay in Egypt thus far, my lady?" asked Rath.

"Quite," she returned non commitally.

All of a sudden the room got exceedingly warm even though the temperature was heady and hot underground. The bard asked questions of this and that, what the pictures of Maat meant, they talked of Anubis, and mummification process. She took in the new ideas with a shudder.

"You buried your dead all wrapped up with the insides removed surrounded by all your possessions so that you would never leave your tomb because you have duplicated you happy life before being laid to rest? Is that how it goes?" Elspeth stated.

"Correct," he said, coming around, pressing closely to her back, pointing to Isis in the corner.

"She is Isis, the Great Mother of All, the Lady of Ten Thousand Names . . "

"Ten Thousand?" laughed the bard, "She only needs one!"

Rath laughed at her innocent comment, charmed by her. He bent closer, smelling her hair in a sharp intact of his angular nose. She smells so good! Just once . . to lick and suck that shapely ear lob then kiss a path across her back and shoulders, and to press my mouth to hers . .

He manhood stirred painfully. His emotions at war inside his ka. He caressed the back of her neck with one hand, Elspeth turned nose to nose with the scribe. So close that their noses slightly brushed sending tiny electric shocks throughout his lean body. Rath swallowed, the turned abruptly. Rath was disgusted with himself. He colored as his thought about the lack of restraint demonstrated by his actions, compared with the ideal for which all Egyptian men strove. To be in control, respectful, courteous, and above all, never overcome by emotions and passions. He appalled himself, scribe and guardian he was! This was what he was going to do with the woman he loved? To take her like a rutting animal in the shadows of a sacred tomb? Automatically, he backed away from his thoughts, commanding the Orb of Ra to dim as he walked out of the House of Eternity hoping no one would notice the jut in his pleated kilt as he passed.

*****************************************************

"No please, go away!" said the scribe in his unrestful sleep.

Rath tossed and turned fitfully his bed, thrashing about in his bed. Sweat poured off him in the heated nightmare that consumed his night visions. For nights without end, the strange, paled skinned barbarien female danced her ways into his dreams like a multicolored butterfly. A russet colored moth landed on his emerald and golden petals waiting to taste the hidden nector within. But just as the creature crepted as close as it would dare, the butterfly flew off seeking other flowers.

Rath's head darted left and right on the head rest. He brought his arms up to ward off the insect only to grab at the same time. In his dream, it slipped through his fingers. The scribe was then in a field of bright orange and red flowers. The elusive butterfly flittered paces in front of him. Rath caught the insect in his hand. Then the scribe felt a stab of pain. Cursing, he let go and the insect that was not an insect fluttered up to see a face.

It was Ashake, a tiny formed one in perfect minuture with lovely purple and indigo butterfly wings.

"Careful with the merchandise, Green eyes, " the tiny bard said, "These wings are fragile."

Rath stammered. Is this what she called a "fairie"?

Ashake the fairie flew at a speed he could not keep up with. He followed, brambles scatching his skin as he was lead deeper into an unknown place. Gigantic trees of the wood threatened his path. The forest immensity shocked Rath. Is this where she is from? This green growing place? There at a nemeton of standing stones marked in white Celtic mandalas, in a flash of light, was Ashake. Her tiny winged entourage at her feet or mingling in her hair or flying around her. She was naked. Pale face haloed in her dark hair as flowers brushed her cheeks, breasts bursting with life, and her hips that thrust to him. Her arms opened, her smile warm.

"Come to me, my bronze beauty. Step inside the fairie ring. The fairies will bless us."

Rath, now at the ring of mushroom growing at his feet, shook his head. "No this is not right. This is not the Msirian way."

"You are not in Egypt," she laughed, dancing in a spiral. "This is Beltane, The Goddess rules this night. And she must be obeyed."

Her hands played with his kilt. He reached for her, her slipped away, demanding, mysterious, elusive, and so wonderous in her innocense. "The God must please the Goddess this night. I have chosen you as my consort. Come dance with me, Green eyes!"

She continued her rippling dance, the magic was thick he could taste it. Is this some sort of fertility rite preformed by her folk? The fairies pushed him towards Ashake. He stumbled about until she came back to the ring. Rath stepped in as their arms locked in a passionate embrace and a kiss that rocked him to his knees. Still holding her, she become impatienct with his clothing. He all but ripped his kilt off. And sought the moist depths he craved. The Sacred Dance of the God and Goddess was like his own Osiris and Isis of that now he was sure. By consummating in the ring the union was sealed for another year much like Isis when she made love to Osiris's mummified remains to beget Horus.

The pain was almost sweet. So good . . so good he breathed.

Then she was gone in a mist beneath him. The silver mist fanned up . .Ashake became a skylark taking flight into the night sky. He cries were heard for miles, "Don't leave me, don't leave me!"

Rath's eyes snapped open. His body covered in sweat, breathing hard, his heart hammering in his chest.

He was in his chambers in the Palace. In his own bed, in his private room. Not a dark green forest.

Why was that all about? He swallowed, gasping at he dry throat. The linen blanket parted reavealing the source of his anguish. Sighing, he stared down at his tall erection. "And just what am I supposted to do about you?" The room was dark and with it came the familiar lonliness that echoed in his chambers. He reached over to the vacant space on the bed, touching the mattress gently. How long had it been since he had sought he own pleasure? It was odd. He could not recall. Reaching under his bed, Rath pulled a cedar box out. Smells of fragrance lifted to his nose as he selected one container. The oil was cool against his skin as he applied the slippery stuff into his hands, then reached below. His mind seethed with eroctic pictures that plagued him of the strange Celt, dancing and singing. He cried out, slightly.

By Ra, it had been so long! How long had it been since he . .

Then release. His heart stopped for two beats. Rath curled up in a ball reaching for the blanket to cover him, held the fabric to his body and for the first time in long memory, wept as a child.

****************************************************************************

It seemed like hours had past. Hard at work in the spacious area of the Palace Forge, the craftsmen and glass makers were doing their best to duplicate Lady Ashake's request and designs for Pharaoh Amenhotep's new Orbs of Ra. The chestnut haired Celt sighed, picking up lopsided beaded orb that fit into her palm. Testing the weight, she sighed again. Too heavy. The glass was be spun, light and windy, to make the enchantment last.

The heat was tremendous! Even the Sahara Desert couldn't compare to the furnace blazing inside these walls. Her linens clung to her like a second skin. Sweat trickled down between her breasts, the sheen was not attractive at least to her. Ashake hadn't bothered with her leathers not in this heat. Just a heavy utility apron over her front and legs. The craftsmen did their best not to look at the strange female in their midst. Amenhotep had told them to act like she wasn't there and to continue their work. They did just that, but under veiled eyes that sought a peek when she wasn't looking.

Ashake grabbed the water skin hanging by her belongings. She took a long drought, wiping her neck down with the rest. "One doesn't have to be concerned about weight around it, the fat would just melt right off ya!" One glass worker came up to her, offering the bard his endeavors. Ashake tossed the balls, the weight was still heavy. She shook her head. The Msirians were have a hard time trying to gasp the phrase "less is more" from the Celt. All the orbs brought to her were so lovely in design, but the bangles weighted them down. All she wanted was a simple glass transparent sphere, but the craftsmen could not fathom as to why it should be so plain. This would take some time. At the work table, were the rest of the failed Orbs of Ra. Pretty swirls of delicate purples, pinks, reds, even dark indigo glowed into the light of the forge fire. Yes they all the beautiful, but useless. Ashake looked over her papyrus plans one more night. This is ridiculous! she fumed inside It was never this hard in Chin to make this incantation work!

Then all of sudden of the work stopped in the forge. Hammers ceased their banging, craftsmen bowed in to floor as their leader passed their ranks towards the tall Celt. Ashake dropped into a hasty curtsey. "Given your pardon, your Highness," she said, slicked back her damp hair with a hand, self conscious of her untidy appearance, "But I didn't know you were expected."

Amenhotep stepped forward to survey her work. "How goes the process, my Lady of Lyrics? Are my finest servants handling your instructions?"

Before Ashake could speak . . . .a familiar voice broke like water on the sea shore. "It seems that the answer is painfully obvious," the high pitched voice smirked his acid depths as he picked her papyrus plans and looked at them with a keen eye. Rath sniffed, glanced over the scroll at the Celt then back to the plans. His eyes noted her disheveled appearance which he frowned at.

Ugly, uncouth, undisciplined, unwanted, uncaring, uninteresting, . . .female!

"Scribe!" said Amenhotep, as he just noticed the look in his son's guardians face directed at Lady Ashake. "You can not expect a lady to come from a desert journey as if she has just stepped fresh from her morning applications. I give this fine lady cause not to feel less then her appearance because she dallies among the workers at her craft."

Rath paled a bit at the reprimand, but muttered an apology under his breath.

"None taken," grinned Ashake and filling the Pharaoh in on what she found out during his experiments. Rath listened with half an ear, drumming his fingers and his gauntled arms. Jealousy was an emotion his never really felt until now. Privately, he was happy the experiment was a failure. But another part saw the disappointment in Ashake's eyes and longed to sooth away her doubts.

"Perhaps the molding of the Orbs is not correct," he offered.

Then Ashake brightened, smiled, laughed, and then threw her arms around the surprised scribe. "Green eyes, you are wonderful!" she kissed his full on the cheek, "In fact, your brilliant. Thank you!"

Ashake shooed all away from the forge where the glass was being melted. "Stand back, gentlemen! I need some room."

Rath watched as the lithe figure was soon cocooned in eldritch power, invisible to all save him. Amber, diamond, indigo, and jade colors patterned around her body swathing her in mystic might. Such power was as raw as the stars. She grounded and centered her consciousness into the floor beneath her. With more ease she erected a shield. Rath wondered why.

Without speaking any Words of Power, Ashake with her magic, reached into the forge and formed a glass ball with the will of her mind. It rose up all molten red-orange.

"Giladriel lathorian eluthian!" she called out in a commanding voice. Layer by layer she placed enchantment on the molten sphere until it was as clear as water. Rath saw the concentration on her face and the joy. His heart leapt at the sight of her when the Celt dispelled the shield then put the power back into the ground with nothing but a thought. The ball dropped into her hand, glowing as the first Rath had seen.

"The first Orb of Ra is complete." A big cheer when up in the forge. Then Lady Ashake collapsed.

************************************************************

Hands help her firmly. Water was brought to her lips. A pair of palm green eyes looked down on her tenderly, wiping her brow. "What happened?" she complained looking at the concerned faces surrounding her. "I guess I put a bit to much 'umph' into that spell, huh?" She smiled up at Rath, who was holding the Celt closely.

"Are you well, my lady?" said Rath as she sat up and walked away. "You fainted . . .you shouldn't be up . . "

"Oh don't fuss now, I just over extended myself. It has been awhile since I worked that caliber of a spell. I got lost in the magic. It happens sometimes when a wizard enchants a magic item."

Ashake gathered her things like nothing occurred, leaving Rath and his Pharaoh following in her footsteps. "Is the Orb . . ?" she turned to face Amenhotep.

"Rath will see to the Orb of Ra's safety, " said the Pharaoh, his own eyes shining on her. She was quite a lady this Celt bard!

"Err . .yes. . your Majesty . . " the scribe held the in questioned item in his hand.

They came out into the gardens where Prince Rapses was sparring with Armon in his afternoon lessons with the Bodyguard. Rapses seemed to take greater pleasure in athletics then his school work. The prince greeted Ashake with a cheerful bow then jumped into her arms as she caught him laughing.

"Rapses!" said Amenhotep.

His son said he was sorry and stepped down. Then greeted Lady Ashake properly.

Returning the greeting, the Celt said to his father. "The boy meant no harm. But a prince must know his limits."

Amenhotep nodded at her words then Rapses went back to Armon. Rath snorted his disgust but said nothing. No one was paying him any attention.

"Oh, before I forget," Ashake fished around in her brown satchel, "You wanted to see these, Amenhotep. My distance viewer."

The Celt gave the Pharaoh a small cylindrical metal tube. "Find a far away thing, put the small end up to your eye and look into it," she instructed. Amenhotep chose the palace lake as his target. His eyes widened in shock as the lake came into closer range through the tube.

"Extraordinary," he breathed. "Scribe, take a look yourself."

The lake with the sacred ibises choked with white water lotuses was as close at his hand in front of his face. This is . . . how can a . . foreigner . .accomplish a feat such as this? Rath's mind was reeling in awe and stubbornness, and yes jealously as his master traded idle conversation with this . . this . . .

The scribe handed the distance viewer back to Ashake. "Very. . .nice," he said half meaning it.

Ashake sensed his distance, and tried to sooth his mind with her healing touch as their hands met. Rath glared at her like she had committed murder. The baneful viperous glare he fixed on her came from his lonely soul. The look in her eyes was nearly blue. Blue? They were green a moment ago. The exchange did not go unnoticed by Amenhotep. Excusing himself, he turned abruptly and left.

Rath pounded the ground in a cubit eating stride seeking only to lose himself anywhere, but in the presence of . . .her! The scribe paced the floor of the hypostle hall pounding a fist into a column in anger. How dare she! Of all the colossal gaul! Making me the most powerful wizard in all of Msir look like an idiot in front of MY master! He paced the floor some more nearly running into a messenger laden with scrolls on his way to the document chamber.

"Green eyes," a sweet voice called. "Is everything alright? Have I done anything untoward? I am still new to your land's customs . . .if the prince . . "

Rath cursed under his breath. Thoth, you must be testing me. It lacks her physical presence only to make my madness complete. His back to Lady Ashake, the scribe just stood there saying nothing. Slowly, a pair of arms encircled his chest and she rested her head on shoulder. Still dirty from the forge, the Celt pressed her cheek to his green and gold chest piece. Rath gave a rapid intake of breath as she spoke, "Is there anything wrong?" Her breath hot on his ear lobs. He could smell her, no this was not right!

"Forgive me, my lady!" Rath detached from her grasp and ran like a frightened child.

************************************************************

Reaching for the wine flask once more and downing the rest of its contents in a single gulp, Rath, Scribe of Amenhotep, Beloved of Ptah and Chosen of Thoth, Teacher and Guardian of Prince Rapses, peeled out of his clothing before the wine could fuddle him, then falling into the ornate bed as a flush of light headedness overtook him.

Maybe it's good thing to be alone, he thought muzzily as he allowed sleep to take him. Between teaching Rapses and being a Royal Guardian, I'd never see her unless she disguised herself as a gods-be-damned scroll.

He dreamed of his home in Thebes. His mother tall, golden skinned, regal, and knowledgeable in her craft. His father slightly shorter more compact in the shoulders and waist, his green eyes full of mirth. His siblings arguing over toys and at play. A young pretty household girl smiled at young Rath, who blushed at her trim waist and budding breast under the linen shift dress. Rath at 10 years old was a tall, lanky, lad, all limb and leg, with the grace of a lobbing puppy. He followed the servant girl into the store house and they spoke shyly. Moments later his mother dragged him out of the room, whipping his body with a hippopotamus tailed whip.

"Mother, no please, she smelled so good." The whipping continued to bring welts on his skin

"No son of mine, acts like a peasant," Ersanet yelled, as her oldest son fell to his knees.

"I'm sorry, mother, I didn't mean to . ." Snap, the stinging whip beat him more. "It felt soo good . . .no mother. . it wasn't wrong . . it felt " His own mother left him in a heap weeping and sobbing uncontrollably. He pounded his balled fists into the dirt. "When I touched it . . .it felt so good, mother. How can it be bad?"

The scene changed drastically. Rath was in his old school quarters at the College in Thebes. Pentsuru, his favorite teacher, introduced to a new student named Chontra. She was everything he had dreamed of in a woman and a student. Graceful, beauteous, mind hungry, ambitious, and just had the most delicate touch of magic he'd ever encountered. How he cared for her!

All the nights at her side, teaching her of Heka and reading from scrolls, never daring to touch her and, wondering if . . just maybe she felt the same?

Then the summons came and he said his goodbyes. "You'll end up a wrinkled husk of a man!" Chontra cried, yelling her hate as he walked away, not having the courage to look back. Tears fell down her cheeks, "Did you hear me, Oh pious one, you will end up lonely and have nothing."

She ran to the steps. "RATH! RAAAATTTHHH!!!" Chontra cried, leaning into the column as she cried, "You bastard, you didn't even take me with you."

Rath reached for air and held nothing. "Chontra,. . no it wasn't like . . that" Chontra's lovely face became a writhing mask of hideous snakes as the Gorgon turned him to stone. "I didn't turn you to stone. How can I turn you to stone, when you already are?!"

Rath screamed. The truth hit him like nothing he's ever felt before. All the guilt, pain, loneliness pitted against his soul like a hungry beast tearing away all his self control.

He was falling, long and without aid. He landed in a spider's web. Trapped, struggling to get free as Chontra chose another form. Black, malevolent, forged of her own hatred, the she spider crept from her lair as thousands of her young feasted on his body. He screamed until his throat cracked!

Then a shining radiance filled the space. A wave of goodness, love, and righteousness filled his being. A white mare with a spiraling horn in the center of her head came crashing down on the web. The young spiders were burned as her aura set fire to the sticking substance letting Rath loose. He struggled to her back, the unicorn reared up slicing the black spider with her glowing alicorn. Chontra reeled back in pain as the unicorn's magic burned her. Rath clutched on the white mare's mane, letting her run to safety.

The dream shifted. The unicorn ran fast and far away from the danger. Rath dismounted as she stopped by a stream. Before he could mutter his thanks, the unicorn shape shifted into a blinding jade light and standing there tapping her foot, was Elspeth Ashake Coulter.

"Where are you trying to do, Green eyes?" Ashake crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "Work yourself into an early tomb? Or are you planning to drink yourself there first?"

Rath tried to speak, but was interrupted by the angry Celt yelling at him. "And if that was yer best student . . " She laughed outloud, no finishing the statement.

Rath matched her glare for glare, anger and shame burning his cheeks. He knew very well what he did, but he didn't like being reminded of it. "I don't drink that much! Only tonight . . I needed to relax is all it was. And why are you here?"

"This is your dream, not mine, Green eyes," Elspeth said.

Inside, Rath was quaking. A cold fear clutched his heart. He had his wine. He shouldn't be having this dream. It was not Msirian in nature. "You know what I think, that this all some spell you placed me under so you can have your way with me just the way she did!"

A hand touched his shoulder, and the words froze in her throat. "Green eyes ----," she said,

humbly. "I'm sorry for what happened to you. But it is no reason not to live and be happy. I worry about you. You do work too hard."

"It is a guardians's duty and my work as a scribe that keeps me in the position I choose to be in," Rath snarled. Why was he being this way after she had saved him?

"You act like you don't have a choice," said the Celt.

"I don't have much of a choice," he reminded her tartly, without turning around. "My work is everything to me. Not even love can compare. I am what am I."

That word. That stupid suicidal word. One he never said aloud. What was wrong with him? Ashake's cheeks flamed, this time with mingled anger. "As long as you live, there is always a choice! Magic, knowledge, honor, duty. . these are fine things to have, Great Wizard, but they are also fine excuses to bury what little heart you have left."

"But," said Rath, "now see here young lady . . "

"What is the use of all the scrambling about then? " She looked into his uncomprehending face, and threw up her arms. " What good is all the treasures to stuff inside your cursed tomb, all the scrolls to be read, all the magic to summon at yer whim . . if there is no one to share it with!!!

What good is it?!!!" She pushed him hard. "Answer me, you all knowing walking Sage of the Ages. Tell me, WHAT GOOD IS IT?" She raised her green eyes that now blazed orange with rage to his shocked stare. "Why do I even bother."

She softened his gaze. Rath would have preferred fighting that to see that hurt expression, the pleading for him to believe her that she meant him no harm.

"Maybe you are different," he mused, "But fighting wasn't not the reason you came is it?"

"You have a point and no it wasn't," she locked him up in an embrace, an invitation is her eyes that he couldn't fathom. Part of Rath was in terror. That is too real! I am going crazy. I must be. Being alone for so long . . .

"I don't want to argue or fight,"she whispered into his ear. "I do worry about you. You take on too much and bottle up your feeling so tight. Green eyes, you're going to hurt yourself this way---you can't be everything to everyone."

"Keep that up and you will start another . . " he sighed as her magic fingers worked on his back.

"What am I going to be with you," she laughed.

Rath opened his mouth to speak and she stopped his words with a kiss. Not just any kiss. All the pain, fear, and loneliness came up into a sweet passionate ache that shook him to the core of his soul. A kiss that lead to more kisses, and then to other more intimate somethings that until then there only a murmur of a dream his mind craved to know. Hands like silk, warm skin on skin, ghost clothing vanishing as the joy and wonder of new possibilities filled their beings like star shine.

*************************************************

"Blessed Thoth!"

Rath woke up with a start, and the moment that he was actually awake hit hard, and he began to shake uncontrollably. Why didn't the wine work? He should have been bloody unconscious until morning. This dream had been real. Too real. Part of him felt like he had betrayed himself, the other part welcomed the sweet lovemaking. He wanted it so badly.

He flung off the head rest and sat on the edge of her bed. So sweet. I must be going insane!

Oh Ashake, it is a mistake to even contemplate such a union. Please understand. He tried to convince himself. Rath plunged his head into the water basin in an attempt to drown his tears. What I need is a walk. The magic of Thoth is strong tonight, I'll lose myself in the garden.

He seized his kilt and sandals and went out into the cool humid night, hoping to pace away the doubts and fears gnawing at his mind.

The night was hotter than he imagined as he made his path through the palm of the Royal gardens. The scribe can only hope not to trip and break his ankle on his sure steady gate. He looked up out the full moon of Wadjet in the starry dappled belly of Nut lost in thought. Yes, the magic was strong this evening. The wine was clearly his senses. The time of Thoth was his favorite time of day.

It was then he heard the laugher coming from the far end of the garden by the stream. Carefully, he made his way towards to sounds to merriment. But the Pharaoh had no party plans for this night, Rath thought. He parted a palm frond slightly and was taken away at what his eyes saw.

There was Ashake, pale and naked in the moonlight. A small bonfire in front of her, incense burning in a circle around her. Her body painted in red spirals and mystic runes and a ring of white lotuses in her unbound hair. She chanted in her tongue of Gael, then bowed to a small figurine made of a green stone and another of white ivory. With deliberating, she put herbs and wine into a bowl, stirring the mixture with a sharp knife. The magic was incredible. Rath thought that she witness some sort of Gaelic rite of some kind, maybe a fertility rite. He watched in great care not to be seen, watching the smalls winged fairies dance around her feet and head like young pets. There were many more magical entities surrounding Ashake while she mixed and chanted. Everyone seemed very happy. She made some unfamiliar gestures in the air in all the four directions, then bowed to the statues.

Then she began to dance. Thought there was no music, the Celt danced in a circle motion that the others followed. She laughed, and sang sweetly. Hair unbound sailing whip like behind her, full breasts bouncing enticing, and the other thatch of hair between her legs that intrigued Rath to take an even closer look. Rath crept until there only very little between him and the dancing female before him. It was painful to look at her, all sweating, happy, joyful in her private world.

Rath parted the palm frond more, and she turn in full view, leaping like a gazelle with twice its grace, landing near where he hid. Her breasts jutted up like the pyramids of Giza! There is enough there to feed the Two Kingdoms! Ashake danced until the sheen of sweat was heavy on her, the perfume of the exertions intoxicating the scribe hidden in the palms. But that are . . . he bite his finger not to cry out Hathor and Isis twice blessed this goddess made flesh thrice over! Oh Ptah, keep me strong! The knot in his belly tightened, and he felt his manhood lengthen.

Still unaware of her audience, Ashake glowed amber and shape shifted into a new form. Rath stood transfixed as her lower half became a snake's tail of jade colors with white Celtic mandalas running down the sides. In her nagina form, Ashake would stay for the rest of the night in honor of two of her patron gods. Ashake slithered down into the pool of water. The water lapped at her scales making seem darker almost black. The fairy attendants helped her bathe. She was washed, her long hair combed, set with flowers. Rath didn't know how long he stayed there, unable to move. Witnessing so intimate a movement was unknown to him. Rath just hide there never taking his eyes off the beauty. It was only when he legs began to cramp up did he move. He bit back a yelp of pain, as his legs complained as the blood rushed back to his limbs. Rath tripped over himself as Ashake looked over in his direction.

Panic seized him and he bolted back to the Palace as fast as his legs could carry him. Ashake followed. He never dreamed in that form she was that fast. The palm trees disappeared and he was out in the open save for the Sacred Pool of Isis. If she catches me, I will die of embarrassment! Rath took his options and plunged into the deep pool and help his breath for dear life. Ashake sauntered by the pool surveying the landscape with controlled anger vibrating in her scales. She circle the huge pool twice, sat on the edge. All the time Rath was under water nearly dying two ways--from shame and lack of oxygen!. Finally, she went away. Rath broke the surface of the pond, sputtering and wheezing and coughing.

"By Ptah's Forge, that was close," the scribe got out the pool. "At least I needed a cold shower."

He turned back to the garden, wringing out his kilt. Smiling, he walking dripping wet back to his chambers as dawn broke the morning sky.

******************************************************************

Morning sun drenched the sky in mists of lavender, orange, and pink, a pastel reflection of atmu. Last night's ritual of left Elspeth antsy, full of energy, she could not sleep in the twilight.

Stepping into the warming dawn, the sun rose higher as Ra took his solar barque on the long journey. Elspeth circled her eyes with kohl to protect them from the bright light. The shade soon would be gone and the garden too hot to walk in until late afternoon.

Her servant girl, Peshet, came in with her breakfast. Beer and bread. The staples of the Msirian diet along with dates, figs, pomegranates. No meat. Oh well, can't have everything. Her slender figure was dressed in Msirian made clothes to her specific measurements. Normally she'd prefer her leathers, but the beastly heat chaffed her body so. And she was going to the Temple of Ptah to make an personal offering . . seemed best to put forth a good impression. Peshet braided her long hair into thin rows with bright colored ribbons. Rouged her cheeks in pomegranate juice. Elspeth shooed her away with the rest. Her skin was slightly darker now, but still visibly pale compared to the natives. Her toilet cut short by her impatience, the bard -mage slipped out of the quarters and into the Palace gardens.

The gardens were so different here then any where she'd been before. Ninety percent of the desert was claimed by sand. Only the Nile was green and growing. Palm and date trees dotted the garden and short shrubs she didn't know. She wondered at their medicinal value, trekking along the white gravel path. Without thinking, she ended up in the same spot as the night before, where she preformed the rite. Magic still clung here. Her friends were gone into hiding. Msirians could not believe in fairies if they tried. Smiling, she felt comfortable and rested near the stream fed pool, listening to the sounds of the morning.

"Why does the lovely lotus Lady Ashake stay in the midday sun? Will she not wilt, she who is truly of the night?" The high pitched tenor voice was heavy with sarcasm.

Ashake twisted to see the scribe in his crisp white pleated kilt, gold green sash tied off at his thin waist. Matching semicircular breast plate with segmented gold hangings and finger less gauntlets. And the tall henhet he was never without. Why does he wear the silly thing? Makes him look like candle holder!

Rath was leaning against a date palm behind her. She could the heavy perfumes on his body. The Msirian seemed occupied with the sense of smell, she wondered why.

"I am afraid that I have forgotten how nice the gardens are at this time of day," he mused trying not to look at her. But then his intense appraisal wondered down the length of her body. His gaze wondered, taken in her coifed hair, her round perspiring breasts nested snugly in her tight green vest, her hands crossed over gently rounded tummy, and her long legs outlined through the thin linen kilt. Determined, but not flustered, Ashake met his gaze shyly.

Now what game to do you play, barbarian? First the wanton, now this . . "I am also afraid I have forgotten how to play the foolish romantic games of the heart. That you seem quite. . proficient at do to your trade. I prefer the peace and quiet and solitude of my work. You are not beautiful," he said, " You lack the softness of true Msirian woman. Your eyes are that of a khaibit, but your allure could almost be as legendary as Isis if you stayed here."

Elspeth, smarting from his unflattering comparison to the bloodsucking demons that roamed the deserts seeking kas to drink, smiled grimly at him. And laughed at his demeanor.

"Have I said something amusing?" he retorted.

"No," Elspeth said, getting up and walking past him. Rath walked beside her, talking of this and that. Scientific discoveries he made, the weather, life at court, and repeated on the weather, as she entered her chambers. Pashet handed her a basket and a strange long cylindrical stick.

"If you will excuse I have a delivery to make," she said, walking off.

"Lady Ashake, it is the tenth day . .the day of rest," Rath said, "May I ask where you are going?"

"The Temple of Ptah to give an offering," she moved away toward the stable. "And the Grand Market is today. I thought I'd do some shopping. Have to get the souvenirs before . . . . "

Leave . . oh Thoth no . .it only be a matter of time before she slips out of my life

Ashake popped open the rice paper parasol, stepping out into the sun. Rath stood there agape then realized the device she carried was like her bowl shaped hat to ward off the heat of Ra from her skin. Quite ingenious that contraption!

She saw him looking at the umbrella in confusion. "It's from Chin, it is called a parasol. Keeps the heat off."

"Yes," he noted, as she twirled the handle and turned away, the purple design spinning in a dizzy fragment of color. "Oh . . of course. . hmm," the scribe coughed. "I was on my way to the same temple . . .perhaps . . .we could share a chariot . .on the way . . "

The bard stopped in her tracks. "Are you asking me on an outing?" Her green eyes peered from under the twirling parasol.

Rath froze mid sentence, not knowing what to reply as she sauntered five cubits from him, leaving him stammering for a response. What are you waiting for, you foolish stubborn idiot? His heart told his brain. His brain told him Cease this frivolous banter and go to your lab. His heart told his brain to go jump in the Nile and stay there! As his insides were warring with themselves, Rath heard a "The answer is yes" from the Lady Ashake. Rath made a bee line for the waiting chariot.

The market was filled with all the activity of a bee hive. Hawkers were there vying for the best places shouting out praises of best wares. Everything under Ra's grace was here! Elspeth took in the sights like a young child dragging the bewildered scribe with her. Her touch was firm.

Rath couldn't help but feel over whelmed by the sights and sounds and crowds. Normally, he was in his lab with Rapses. The Msirian week was nine days long. On the tenth day, a rest was called for. Even work on the pyramids ceased. And that way the Grand Market Day was born.

Servants, nobles, rich, poor, slaves, crowded the streets freely spending their money on foods and goods. The throng was . . not to Rath's liking. But the company of Ashake made it bearable . .almost fun. He watched select accessories, sample food and drink, play with the children. The scribe didn't even mind that he was among the commoners, it seemed all of Msir loved Ashake.

They stopped to purchase some refreshment. Rath saw a melon seller nearby. He pressed a debnet into his hand. The seller gestured to his wares, extolling that they were the finest fruits in all of the Two Kingdoms. Elspeth came by, parasol in hand, examining his selection with a grin.

Showing Rath how to thump the melons was freshness. Rath then saw that the seller attention was not on his question by at the vicinity of the bard's emerald vest. Rath never really noticed before how enormous those flesh mounds were strapped inside the folds of material. The seller nearly wept as he muttered a prayer of thank you to Hathor as she reached over and pointed to their purchase. The melon was sliced open by his hand and eaten in front of him. The whole exchange seemed lost on Elspeth who laughed and traded jokes with the man like a long lost relative. Rath ate his portion in silence trying not to feel left out. The fruit was washed down with beer from hawkers of private store. As they turned to leave, her pressed the debet back into Rath's hand and winked. The scribe smiled as he held up another melon as if weighing it. Rath blushed, but they both laughed.

Then he all but ran into JaKal and Tia as he looked for Elspeth who had disappeared into the crowd. "Rath, what are you doing here?" the hunter blanched.

"Good afternoon, Rath,"chimed Tia her arm in her husband's. "It is a pleasure to finally see you out of your study for once."

"Yes, it is," said JaKal, pressing the issue. "So what brings you here?" His black kohled eyebrow raised in a query.

"Prince Rapses dragged Nefer and I on another excursion into the rekkit for his delight of course. I was against it . . "

"Rath, what do you think of this material?" Elspeth held up a bolt of cloth. "Would the shading suit Rapses?"

The hunter and his wife looked at the scribe, then the bard, then back to the scribe. The pair smirked. "Tia, our Prince has grown, hasn't he."

"Yes, " said Tia, "In fact, almost blossoming over night, it seems."

Rath gave the love birds a nasty glare. Tia joined Elspeth at the cloth booth and proceeded to laughed and carry on with the pale Celt in a very sisterly fashion. JaKal just looked at Rath with a I-know-what-you're-up-to kind of look.

Rath saw her comrade at arms giving him the eye. "What is it?" he vexed openly.

JaKal grinned, eyeing the two ladies holding up cloth to each other. "She's quite a lady!"

"Yes she is, verily," he said thoughtfully. JaKal knew it was not to whom his wife the scribe spoke of, keeping his silent vigil, thought it best to leave it lay.

Elspeth had the marrieds join them on their way. Rath was a little taken a back by her offer but JaKal only gave his ok all too quickly. Tia pressed her head on the hunter's shoulder as they walked. JaKal bought a sweet white lotus and tucked the flower behind her ear. Noses touched briefly as their exchanged was not lost on Elspeth who gazed fondly at the pair in the bliss.

"They are so natural together. I envy them. They were lucky to find someone special on Life's Path."

Rath coughed, murmuring about a comment on Isis and Osiris. And kicked himself for having anything witty to say to this lady who captured his tongue and turning his words to ash. He felt like a lost green school boy trembling around a prostitute for the first time. Then he remembered their true purpose for coming here . . .

"My lady," said Rath, "The Temple of Ptah still awaits your offering."

Elspeth slapped her head, "Oh that's right . . I was having such a grand time it completely slipped my mind."

Did she say she has having a good time. Rath was walking on air as he offered his arm to her as he escorted her to the building.

The Temple of Ptah was located near the Nile placed near the water steps. The priests bathed thrice a day in the river to purify their bodies in the daily ceremonies. The statue of Ptah was cleaned, dressed, incense burned, food prepared, prayer spoken to the Creator God in thanks as his gift of Life. Since it was Market Day, the temple was throw open to the public for the day. Elspeth lite jasmine incense at the foot of the bronze statue, leaving the stick burn. She spoke words in Chin, bowing to the floor. Her simple offering was quaint. Her prayer unreadable, but her piety was strong. So how it seemed to fit. She gave the rest of the foreign incense with the w'rer, second wrung of the priests.

The tenemos along the side of the temple corralled the sacred Apis Bull. Rath lead Elspeth there. The white bull was strewn with fragrant flowers, butting his head with the door. The Celt rubbed his wet nose, but pulled back when Rath did a sharp intake of breath.

"The Apis Bull is the incarnation of Ptah himself, not some petting animal for your amusement," he pulled her hand away.

Her eyes became magenta with flecks of pink in them. Like she was a child as she folded her parasol, leaning on the fence. The bull came over to her poking his nose to be rubbed again. Without a thought, she did so. Rath reached in and plucked a flower from the bull's neck and tucked it behind her ear.

"You see, even Ptah likes his back rubbed, now don't you." she cooed.

"Lets see if I have this right," Elspeth said. "Ptah is the god of Memphis. Sekhmet, the holy terror, is his wife. But she is also Hathor transformed by the eye of Horus to punish the enemies of Ra."

"Correct," the scribe nodded. She was listening to him after all. The bard put her leg up on the fence. The slit revealing her whole leg made him catch his breath. They remained silent for a long time. Poor lost one she thought I see yer pain in yer eyes when we speak. Who ever hurt you must of hurt you terrible bad to cause such a day to be some much a trail for you. How long has it been since you smiled, Green eyes?

Rath sidled closer to her filling her in the temple's history. A priest came into the pen leading a beige cow inside. Old Whitie was very glad to make her acquaintance! The smell of phermones permeated her nose as the two heifers did what came naturally between the sexes, much to Rath's flabbergasted crack in his voice.

Elspeth watched the animals mate. Rath became increasingly agitated trying to remain calm next to her. He looked at her change of dress and made a mental to sketch her like this in his journal later. She worn little make up. But she didn't need it

"I think you Msirians have it all wrong, about Ptah I mean," she spoke, thinking a minute. "Maybe the only way to turn Sekhmet back into the happy Hathor was for her to get laid. Ptah seems an occupied deity. A good roll in the furs does clear the head."

Rath flushed red. " I never thought of it . .that way . . "

"You have lovely nice hands, "she said, taking his right hand in hers. "Long tapered, elegant. The hands of an artist. Rather large to." She pressed her palm into his, it fit perfectly "You know what they say about men with big hand and feet?"

"No," Rath replied flatly.

Shaking her head, the joke was lost on him. "Well, I have noticed that you wear a very tall hat, long kilt and even longer sash, either you are bragging or you're making up for a lack of what Ra blessed the male species with. I was just wondering if you as tall as you look."

"I have no idea what you are speaking of, " the scribe sniffed. The smell of sex was too great for him.

"How tall are you? With the hat, I mean?"

"6 feet and 7 inches," he replied wondering where this conversation was heading.

"Forget the six feet," she stepped closer, "Let talk about the seven inches." A wicked smile

split her lips. She kissed his hand on the inside wrist. Rath's head swam as she leaned into him, feeling the heat of their bodies as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing closer to him, inhaling her intoxicating water clear scent. She opened her mouth and felt electricity flow between them at contact, her lips brushing against his neck. Tracing his generous full mouth with the slightest touch. When he pulled away his breath was rasping, his eyes gleaming like a scared fawn.

Rath gaped, swallowed, then trembled. The weight of her words hit him . . too hard.

"Excuse me, my lady," he walked with as much dignity as he could muster, trembling.

He ran inside the temple. Nearly at odds with his warring ba and ka. As sweet images of love play-danced in his mind he slammed his fist into a wall. A sob chocked in his throat, tears welled in his eyes.

'What enchantment is this?" he yelled. "Ptah, Thoth, keep me strong! " He fell to his knees.

Why do I desire you, my lady, and at the same time despise you in the same breath?

"You are no mystery to me, yet I want to know more. Have you cast a spell on me?"

She's just like Chontra, all females are like the deceitful, traitorous, back stabbing . . . Then he knew something that she could not deny, since the coming of Ashake, all thoughts of Chontra had ceased. Even the nightmares were fewer. Ashake had taken her hew role of his private mind, invading all ideas even his journal was filled with sonnets he'd never give her. Then he blocked out all event of this incredible day and became the Scribe of Amenhotep once more.

Elspeth waited outside the Temple of Ptah. Rath bowed to her, "I bid you good day, my lady."

And vanished into the streets below, leaving her there on the steps, holding the lotus he had given in her hand.

************************************************************

"Mother, look!" Rapses pointed his wooden sword, "Dragon!"

Queen Tiye watched the playful antics of the son romping in the Palace gardens with a smile in her heart. Moments like these were too few for Rapses. The missives from Nubia were coming more readily. There was talk of a war counsel campaign in the near future. One that would take the loin of her heart away from the Queen for many months. Amenhotep had so little quality time with his own son. The four guardians were becoming more of an extended family to the heir that a mere shield or teacher. But as close as he had become to them, the only thing Rapses wanted for his approaching birthday was just one day alone with his father.

Nefer held the pony's reins as Prince Rapses waved the short play sword and brought his shield up defensively, studying her elusive quarry. The green dragon slipped from his sight, all glittering and mysterious.

"That way, Nefer," Rapses called, "Behind the palm trees!" Nefer guided the pony at a safe trot with the brown haired heir bouncing in the saddle. The jade colored dragon ran away, while legs flashing, laughing musically.

The charioteer run the pony around the trees. The dragon tired. Rapses sliced the wing and brought his quarry down. Dragging the injured wing, the dragon limped over to where the Queen Tiye sat. Soon the little knight in Msirian armor rode by and saved the Queen from the terrible lizard. Rapses plunged the sword through the heart (which just happened to be under the arm). The green cape fluttered, and the dragon staggered two exaggerated steps, let out a heartfelt gasp, sank to the knees, crawled, coughed, crawled another three paces, the died with a dramatic flourish of rippling cape.

Shrieking with delight, Rapses vaulted off the pony landing on top of the dragon.

"Easy, Rap!" said the figure underneath the cloak. Squealing the pair rough housed until the prince was caught by the leg, and then nibble at his foot. Rapses retaliated as only a true Prince of Msir could---he tickled the dragon.

"No fair!" she screamed. "The dragon is ticklish!" Picking up Rapses, swinging the boy around on her shoulder. The prince only said, "Faster, faster!" They twirled around until the dragon got dizzy, landing in a pile by the Queen who clapped.

Nefer giggled at the display of fun. He never had seen the prince so happy so the Rapses tackled his playmate, wrestling to the group.

"Ah-hem!" coughed a familiar high pitched voice.

The dragon's head popped out of the cloak's hood. And stared straight up into a pair of yellow gold sandaled feet, tapping one foot in irritation. She follow the long finely muscled legs, up the gold and green collar, and the palm leaf green eyes glared down at her from underneath a tall hat, locked on the pair at play.

The upside down Rath was the picture of disdained tolerance as his full lips frowned.

"Hello, scholar," said Elspeth setting Rapses down, who protested to his mother.

"My lessons are over for the day, aren't they, Mother?" complained Rapses

"He might drag you back in there if he is so inclined," said the Queen.

"Thank you, your majesty," he bowed to the mother. At least some have the proper respect for education.

His glare went to Elspeth, whose familiarity made him bristle. Rath had done everything possible thing to avoid any contact with the Celtic bard. In the days that followed the last Grand Market, he had been beset by torturous dreams, night sweats, and thoughts of lust.

Almost to the point of madness, Rath spent his waking hours either talking cold baths or walking the entire lengths of the gardens to walk off his passion stirring in his loins. His dreams were too real. Ashake teased, laughed, and danced beyond his fevered reach as he called her name pleading to end his torment. On his walks, Rath found himself ,without thinking about it, parked under the balcony of her quarters, listening to her sweet voice sing songs or watched her shadow comb her locks. He was acting like love sick fool. Rath felt like in some way he had betrayed himself. It was you who awoke this passion in me he silently accused. Take it with when you leave!

"Nefer, I have scrolls and potions to be delivered. You will drive me," he said bluntly.

"Get Kenna to do it," said Nefer, collecting the pony from eating the shrubs.

"You are the swiftest charioteer" countered Rath. "I have engagements to attend to this day."

"What engagements?" scoffed Nefer. "Your in your study all the time like a slumbering khaibit! Ra forbid you come out. A kheft would have a better luck in the light than you!"

"Would you like some help?" offered Elspeth. "Give me a horse and I can deliver the scrolls."

"If Lady Ashake is going, may I come too?" asked Rapses.

Queen Tiye hugged his son. "Go with Nefer and see to your pony first."

"Meet us at the stables, Ashake, " said Nefer leading the pony and an excited Rapses away

Rath folded his arms in a huff. "Seem I am outnumbered once again."

******************************************************************

"KENNAAA!!!!! Slow down this instance!" yelled Rath as the chariot took a sharp corner, jostling the bag of potions at his feet. "If any of the vials are broken on our arrival at the Temple of Ptah . . . "

The chariot lurched forward swiftly, spinning the wheels faster. Kenna snapped the reigns once the resulting surge of the horses sending the scribe surging back on his sandaled feet.

Then the scribe saw through the dust Nefer's gold and black Bastet chariot gaining ground and slipped past. Rapses was holding on to the rail having the time of his young life. Rath noticed

that Ashake was driving the steeds with Nefer's arms around her supple body, his golden brown hands on her lotus skin, gilding the reigns.

Of all the sneaky, underhanded . .the base born chit trying to steal a moment with so lovely a lady as the bard . . .really . .Nefer!!??? Ashake shrieked merrily as the chariots spun faster and faster down the dusty streets of the Memphis. The horses were neck and neck, powerful legs running like the wind.

The chariots raced along the way like a sandstorm. Rath seethed as he leaned over, pulled the scroll bag from Ashake's shoulder as Nefer took over the reigns.

"What the . .give that back!"

"They are mine!" Rath yelled over the clamor of hooves. "You cannot be trusted."

"Papyrus doesn't beak that easily. Besides you have the potions." She yelled back laughing. Then she reached over as Kenna's chariot pulled away. Chuckling, she had something in her hand.

"Ah," Rapses said, "you let him get the scroll."

"He may have the scrolls, " said the Celt, "But he's not going to far without . .this." She held up the scribe's green and gold fanged sash that held his kilt in place.

Nefer nearly fell over in hysterics. "Oh believe me. . .he'll know." And gave the steeds full run as the chariot follow the first.

Rath emerged off the wheeled transport, red faced and seething in humiliation. One hand holding his long white kilt, he marched up to Ashake. Tearing the sash from her hand, he tied it off at his waist. They strode into the temple carrying his wares as their laughter burned in his ears.

"Where is Kenna?"

The scribe looked at the single chariot left.

"He left," Ashake tilted her bowl shaped hat back.

Actually she doesn't look too bad in that hat pondered Rath.

"Your complaining drove him away," said Nefer.

"So where to now?" asked Rapses.

"Lets see where the day takes us."Ashake got inside the chariot.

"It will be tight but we can all fit." Nefer helped the prince in.

"Oh no we won't," Rath warned.

Ashake grabbed him, yanking him in as the charioteer snapped the horses into action.

The drive to the market was rather nice. Rath stood behind Ashake who leaned back into him for support. Gauntled hands held her briefly as the smell of hair tickled his nose. Rapses was off into the crowd before the chariot stopped. Rath caught him by the collar, "A prince of Msir does not gallop into public like a horse."

Then the sun's heat was beating down on his head with a fury. The scribe felt the weight on his head was less . . . there was Ashake with his henhet. Putting her nose in the air, she placed the hat on her own head in a haughty gesture, schooled her mouth into a scowl, and walked with all the grace and arrogance the scribe did. Nefer and Rapses blinked.. Ashake had captured the guardian perfectly. She cleared her throat and in a voice that duplicated Rath's said, "Awaken, oh prince of Msir. It is far too complicated to explain."

Rapses gaped like a fish. "She did it just like you."

Rath crooked his finger at the Celt, demanded his property back.

Letting the henhet fall into her grasp, she got her first good look at the scribe. And looked at him very long and hard. Rath wondered what was wrong.

"I thought you were bald," she whispered.

He swept his hand over his close cropped brown hair. Does she not like what she sees? Ashake took in his angular features, taciturn face, long chin, high cheekbones sculpted eyebrows that rose in concern over her intent appraisal. I never realized how handsome he was until now Ashake rolled the hat in her hands.

"Why do you wear that ugly thing?"asked Nefer breaking the mood.

"Ugly?" he retorted, "I will have you know that henhet is quite dashing. It suits my station and looks."

"Catch, Nefer!" The headdress landed in the charioteer's hands. Rath grabbed for it, but Nefer tossed it back to the bard. This went on for several passes until the scribe was running back and forth following his precious hat. Nefer ran a few cubits as Rath vainly missed the green and gold object as it passed through his bronze fingers. "Stop it this instance!" He raged jumping when the hat sailed overhead. "This is most . . "

Nefer threw the hat to Rapses.

"Run, my prince!"

"Rap, that way!"

Rapses took one look at the two friends then at this teacher. "Rapses, give me back . . ."

The prince turned and ran into the market with Nefer and Ashake.

'RAPSES!!!" Rath exploded, chasing after them, barely keeping pace with their all out ran.

"JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET YOUR UNDISCIPLINED HIDE BACK INTO MY CLASSROOM! IF YOU THOUGHT YOUR LESSONS WERE HARD BEFORE . . ."

But the scribe's words were lost on the laughing young ones still tossing the hat around.

Through the market place, past fish stalls, darting between people and sellers, Rath chased them, cursing all the way. The Memphis gardens came into view. Rath was gaining on them as they came to a fountain of Sekhmet. Rapses threw the henhet to Ashake. Simultaneously, the scribe and bard grabbed, and the hat popped out of range. The struggle was over as soon as they hit the water. Thrashing about, Rath slipped and crashed into Ashake. Rapses got inside the fountain jumping on her.

"Nefer, get the prince out of here," he ordered, "such a display of . . " A wave of water it him in the face. Black kohl ran down in twin dark lines on his cheeks. Rath saw Ashake with his hat . . . ."Oops I was aiming at."

"You didn't," he breathed. Growling under his breath, he lunged for her. She dangled the hat out of his reach. They slipped again and their heads smacked together. Ashake got on him tickling his sides. For a moment he let her, till the memories of youth came rushing back. Until he pushed her out angrily.

'Stop it!! Stop it!! Stop it!!" he screamed. "Everything was fine until you came. Now look at the prince gallivanting like a commoner. This is your fault! I won't stand for this anymore! You are the most irresponsible, unmanageable, . . incorrigible, . . barbarian!"

The look in her eyes nearly slew him where her stood. Ashake's eyes turned the deepest blue he could ever imagine. Like a wounded child, she stepped back, tears welled in to corners and looked so vulnerable that Rath wanted to reach out and comfort her.

"I'm sorry . . I didn't mean .. " he stammered, realizing how grave his error. Then she ran off into back into the market crowd. Too late to stop her. Too late to retrieve her!

Rath felt like a bully.

Rapses kicked him in the shins, "You made her cry! You're mean! I hate you!"

Nefer gave the scribe a scalding sneer as she ran after Rapses.

Rath put on his henhet as a part of him died inside.

******************************************************

Anger filled his heart. How dare he strike her down when all he wanted to do was be with her. Bask in her presence. That look of shame in her eyes almost fair near killed him. As he wandered back to his home he thought. Haughtily the hieroglyphics stared down upon him, reprimanding him with their silent stare.

Writing. It hit him. She understands words. Perhaps if he...

Quickly he raced to his lab, and found his scribe's pallet. Dipping his stylus to the red and black inks he wrote in Hieratic. All the boiling emotions he pushed aside, struggling to write the apology his heart bled:

You must think me the worst wretch, milady. I cannot blame you. My harsh words were uttered out of anger, in haste. I cannot help but beg for your sweet forgiveness. You were right... for I was sorely wounded in my past. All the anger and taunting welled up within me at the mirth. You had stolen a part of my pride there in the market, and for that I was angry. Yet seeing the look of hurt I could not help but feel a part of myself be shamed. How dare I bring tears to your lovely face...

I would rather you did take my symbols of office than hate me. I beg for your forgiveness milady. For in the way of magic... you are most... extraordinary... such magic I would fair like to learn... someday...

If you would but come to my lab... I would show you the reasons for my... rampant outbursts. Share with me your knowledge, and perhaps we will come to an understanding.

Affectionately,

Rath, Royal Scribe and Guardian to the Prince...

He sniffed, and felt the ink smudge. What was he thinking. Quickly he put the stylus down, and returned it to its palate. Feeling like a total knave, he quickly blew on the ink to let it dry. Then signed it with a flourish, half hearted.

Running from his lab, he rushed to the servants quarters. He spotted the serving woman assigned to Ashake. In front of her he stepped, and coughed.

"Oh, Great scribe, please forgive me..."

"No, it is no problem," he said, softening his gaze. "I was wondering if you might do me the honor, of delivering this to the Lady Ashake..."

"Very well..." said she, surprised not to get a reprimand. He handed it to her gently, and bowed his head.

"Thank you, most graciously," he smiled, feeling a bit less angry at himself.

***************************************************************

Later he busied himself with the latest task. It had come to his attention that the travelers knew of lightening powder. Indeed they had it in the Land of Ch-in. Rath was determined not to be shown up this time by foreign magicians at the next feast.

He'd been at work as usual, after teaching Rapses that day. The afternoon and evening was his private time, to think and create new spells. Yet his present meditation had been rudely interrupted when she came in. That foreigner who dared to call herself a bard. From where did she hail? Some distant isles from beyond the sea.

Someone poked their head into the chamber, disregarding the do not disturb hieroglyphics. "Hello? Great Wizard?" the voice called.

"None today, thank you," he'd muttered under his breath.

"Hey, Green-eyes," it repeated, a laugh in her alto voice that soared to bubbling soprano. "I got your note..."

"I said none today thank you, I don't want any beer or bread," he remarked, glancing up from his powders and plant extracts. With great irritation he noticed who the source of the voice was. And his heart stopped.

Rath could not believe his eyes. For the visiting Bard was at the door to his laboratory, throwing smoke all about the place. It emanated from a small clay pipe she slipped between red lips. The smoke wreathed about her head like some strange diadem before dissipating. And now he was altogether unsure just what to make of her, since this was only the third time they'd actually spoken alone!

Somehow he was very surprised to see her here. Since his antics of the day before. How hurt she'd appeared when he had scolded her. Half of his heart hoped she would stay angry with him.

"Oh, it's you..." was all he could say.

"I'm not the lackey," she laughed at him. A pair of sparkling eyes laughed at him, and he could not tell their exact color. As she strode into the room, he put hands on his slender hips. Clearly he was not going to get much done today. While he knew she was a visiting Bard, he could not help but feel annoyed. He had to retain some air of polite distance... no matter his personal feelings. Or how gorgeous she looked in those tight clothes. For she wore not the Msirian dress, but her traveling leathers!

She had come a few days ago, and it seemed like an eternity. Every so often such a caravan would ask passage through Egypt, and the protection of Amenhotep. This group was no exception. Often the magicians of other lands would seek the knowledge of Egyptian priests and sorcerers. Or bards would swap tunes and tales in great contest. This particular Bard had come to speak with the temple Priestesses that entertained the Pharaoh. Unlike the many others she had quite an impact, along with the Grecian and Babylonian singers that also arrived. Yet she had captivated all with her tales and lively songs. He'd felt the strange attraction to her, and was not altogether sure of why.

Prince Rapses had particularly enjoyed spending time with her. For he wanted to know the tales of her homeland in earnest. And she had obliged him night after night. JaKal and Nefer would often sit too to listen to what she said. And from the background Rath would lend an ear, and not help but be a bit amazed.

"Must you burn that horrendous plant?" he sniffed, disapproving of the smoke emanating from her small clay pipe tucked into the corner of her shapely mouth.

Elspeth Ashake Coulter smiled again, and moved to see what was on the table behind him. Although in this time she was known as Ashake..."Just thought I'd take a look around. Your High King told me to make myself at home... and this is where Nefer said you hung out."

"Hung out?" he asked, clearly baffled by her strange colloquialisms. Perhaps that was how they spoke in her native land. The long green leather outfit that wrapped her slender form seemed a bit on the form fitting side. And the long jade and white cloak that hung from her shapely shoulders. Much like the papyrus wrap dresses that were the rage in Egypt right now. Yet the bright green was the equal of that in his fronstpiece and henhet. That pale skin seemed ridiculously unsuited to a desert climate, and her tall figure brought her gaze uncomfortably at his eye level, just about.

"My lady, you must excuse me, I have a great deal of work to do..."

"Surely you can spare some of your valuable time to hobnob... with a fellow sorcerer..." she wheedled, pushing past him to look at his table. Holding the pipe in one hand she glanced quickly over the contents upon its surface. "After all, you did invite me here, remember?"

"I beg your pardon, I must have forgotten," he said, scratching his cheek with concern at her free casualness.

"Ah, trying to make up a batch of lightening powder?" she asked him. "You've got far too much saltpeter in it..."

"Young lady, I don't think this is..."

"Shame, Green eyes," she laughed as he rushed to stop her gentle hands from picking up one silver dish. At least she'd put that infernal pipe away, into a small leather pouch at her belt.

"There's a much easier way to achieve that effect... like this..."

Ancient words spread from her tongue and from red lips as she gestured in a manner much unfamiliar to Egyptian magic. Suddenly small lights seemed to twinkle from her fingertips. She began to juggle them, till at last she threw each one into the air. Once up, the dancing lights burst into small radiant explosions that had no sound.

"However did you..." he gasped. This was too much! Almost like the spell at the temple!

"I have been taught by the Eldritch folk," she said. "We all have the touch with magic..."

"The Eldritch folk," he muttered. "Never heard of them... no disrespect intended.... but I do believe this is the proper spell..."

So saying Rath gestured and spoke an equivalent spell. Slowly a sphere of light grew between his cupped hands as he held them aloft before his body. That peculiar pose looked to Elspeth as if it belonged on a temple wall. Softly the light glowed as it changed from green to soft red... and gold. Then in a shower of sparks it exploded harmlessly. Elspeth smiled as if she had seen a child do a simple trick.

"Pretty, but there's no dazzle to it..." she said.

"Dazzle, you say," he snorted. "I shall show you..." so saying he spread wide his hands, fingertips splayed. "From the air to my hand, from my hand to the ground I summon you oh fires of Ammon and Nut..."

Slowly a small cloud formed over his head, and lightening struck within. He plucked a bolt from the cloud as he tossed it across the room. It sizzled past the Bard who regarded it with laughter before it exploded into the far wall of his lab.

"Shame you have to summon the cloud to get the lightening," she said. So saying she raised her one hand and spoke, "Ayiti... augh... lah!". A sizzling bolt of lightening seemed to cascade down from the ceiling, into he hand. For a moment she held the sizzling bolt in her fingertips before sailing it past Rath. His green eyes sparkled with momentary awe.

"Hum... rather impressive," he nodded. "Quite an intriguing spell. But still I must ask who was your teacher..."

"So you are interested in my foreign magic," she teased. "Well, my teacher said never to tell... unless... you know the asker better..."

"Are you suspecting that I would steal your secrets?" he humphed, folding arms across his chest.

"There is an ancient trust between pupil and master," said she.

"And you think I don't know that," he sniffed. Elspeth could tell she'd hit a nerve with this Scribe. For a look of pain and hurt spread in his face.

"I'm... sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to... oh never mind..."

"You... could not have known," said he, turning his back to her. He had done it again. Shouted at her. "Please forgive me. I... can be a bit abrupt at times, milady. I do not mean to be..." He turned to her, extending a hand towards her. The momentary softness in her eyes seemed to change them a shade of deep blue. Why did they seem to change each time her mood did? From his own magician's sense he could tell she was a creature not of this world. Half of her seemed human, and the other otherworldly... as if a creature of myth and magic. Like a goddess or sprite...

"So you teach the Prince magic," she said, shifting the topic. "As well as writing?"

"That is true," said he. "All my lessons must endure... as eternal as the Pyramids..."

"One could say that they were as old as the world?" she laughed. "But even those mountains of stone could be worn away by sand and wind..."

"Oh really," said he. "And what would you know of such things?"

"You presume I am ignorant. Because I am a foreigner?" she said, a bit irritated as she strode up to him. "You have a lot to learn, Green eyes..."

Rath winced. "If you must be so familiar, do not use that term. My name is Rath..."

"Simple and concise... for a complex man," said she. Rath rolled his eyes. Something about her was fascinating, even though he felt like he wanted to grab her and throw her thru the nearest door out of the place. The other half of him... well, he wanted to grab her and... er... well... the thoughts coming into his head made him flush. Such improper thoughts were unworthy of a scribe!

Yet he couldn't help but stare at her shapely body, pale with its lengths of chestnut colored ringlets that cascaded around her pale face. She came close to him, uncomfortably close as those eyes were at the same height as his. He backed away, a bit flustered at her proximity. There was a scent about her, a sort of faint scent of green trees and cool grass that drifted into his angular nose. It evoked strange images of faraway lands covered in emerald landscapes. In a chilly climate far above the world he knew.

As close as in the temple. Would she dare try caressing his lips yet again?

"You have much to learn... Rath," said she, amusement arching one curved eyebrow.

"Young lady, you presume too much..." he protested, as she took a step forwards. "I... simply summoned you... no asked you here, to apologize for my wretched behavior the other day..."

"Your apology is accepted," she smiled simply. "And much appreciated. You have quite a way with the written word..."

"I am relieved I did not... cause you grievous harm," he said, backing away. "I did not wish... to cause you such sorrow. I have not always... taken humor well..."

"How can a skinny arrogant bookworm be so... irresistible," she asked, eyes staring right into his. Were they green as his were? Or was it a spell.

"I don't... know what enchantment this is," he stammered, faced with the real life incarnation of his haunted dreams. "But it is... very unsettling... I must ask you to leave..."

"Why? And be rude to a guest of the High King?" she tsked as he backed one step backwards. At

his back he felt the cold stone of the wall. "And after you invited me here with your silver tongued words captured on paper too. Really, you don't want to risk offending me again, do you?"

"This... is most unbecoming... and irregular," he said, raising a hand as if to fend her off.

"How amusing.... and how young you are," she laughed again, as the space between them was reduced to less than a cubit. That scent wreathed him, covering his rich Egyptian perfumes with its natural simplicity. The warmth of her body radiated towards his, and he felt himself shiver though it was a normal Khemetian day. Long delicate fingers rested on his hand, clasping it between hers. He stammered, not able to let go. Just like the last time she had gently kissed his hand. Yet he had to end this torment here and now. Here was his chance...

"My lady... I must protest..."

"No," laughed she softly, leaning forwards. "We are much alike, you and I. Both magicians and sharers of magic... and you cannot bring yourself to admit it... I make you crazy... and that is upsetting your intellectual pyramid..."

"Young lady... if you do not release me this instant from your spell... I will..."

"Hurt me?" she said, shaking her head. "My that would be amusing, but highly unnecessary. Why do you tremble so? Am I a threat to you? I should think not... for there is nothing there that is not already within your own heart and mind..."

"How can you know what is in my mind... unless you have read it..."

"I can feel the pain and the suffering of others... it is my natural gift... I am merely responding to what I see..."

"And... what do you see," he sniffed, trying to regain some distance from her.

"A confused man who wants so badly to be understood, and who has sacrificed much for his work.... and who desperately needs someone to loosen him up..." Rath shivered as she pressed her lithe form against his, snaking one arm around his neck as the other wrapped around his mid back. It was so fast he could hardly anticipate. Those slender arms pulled him to her with considerable strength. Once again her fine smooth cheek rested against his green and gold semicircular collar. When he was not in the temple, he wore this alternate version of his symbol of office. Over not a bare chest this time, but a sleeveless shirt.

What she did next totally unnerved him. For he said, "Now just a moment... what in the name of Osiris is...mmmm!" before he felt a moist set of lips firmly choke off his next words. The scent of that strange herb she inhaled was thick upon them. Her head seemed to move from side to side as the pressure increased. He could hear his gurgling words travel no further than into her throat as he indignantly tried to pull away. But some part of him felt the shivering that shook him like a sickness. From the bottom of his being a nervous shudder washed over him like a tidal wave. His eyes stared past her fringe of hair to the hieroglyph wall opposite, wide with fear and excitement.

He gasped as he pulled away for breath. "Great Horus," was all he could choke out as she still clutched him firmly. Why did this feel so natural, for it was so unknown to him. His mind tumbled down the slope of years to that fateful day when his mother had caught him... oh how the whip had stung.

But she was not here now. Far away in Thebes living with his youngest sibling Setanakt. She was not here to tell him what he could and could not think... but the images haunted him all the same....

"You haven't seen the half of it, Green eyes," she laughed softly. "Come now, I won't bite... hard..."

This wasn't bad. In fact... it felt rather nice. To have her warm breathing form pressing against his kilted thighs and stomach. She pushed up against him, pressing him flat against the wall with considerable strength. She reached with her hand from his back to grab his arms and position them around her slender waist and neck, as if positioning a doll. "That's it. Gentle. The idea is to relax, and let yourself go... enjoy!"

"Milady," he gasped, finally catching his breath. "This is... not seemly. Are you quite certain that I am not forcing you to do anything against your virtue..."

"Why are you so afraid to let anyone get close to you?" she asked simply. There was no teasing in her eyes. Gently her hands eased the tension out of his back muscles and spine. She really did want to help. And it felt good to hold her in his gauntleted hands. Her physical presence seemed the perfect remedy.

"A guardian cannot afford... to let personal- Ohhh... stop that--relations interfere in his duty... by

Thoth that feels marvelous..." he gasped as she continued to massage his tight back. Each knot melted under her soothing fingers. "Mmmm, do not... Ow! That hurts..."

"You are so tense you could pull something out of joint," said she. "Your muscles feel like granite... so tense and tight! Relax... that's it.. Throw off the tension and let the knots be undone!"

"I... fear that my duty reduces my... opportunity to pursue such personal... oh... right there.. Mmmm." By Osiris' sacred funeral wrappings, I have died and gone to his promised kingdom! Rath felt the power from her hands very strong and as soothing as warm milk on a bitter cold winter night in the desert. Her hands glowed a pale amber or at least they felt that way. She is a healer in the truest order, the most potent I have ever sensed. This is her gift. He flushed with pleasure as the healing energy washed over him rocking his loins into fire. Her touch is to laugh and cry both at once.

"See, it's not so bad," she smiled, as she continued to reach around him to massage his back.

Rath felt his breath coming in ragged gasps, as if he were swimming in the Nile. Again she put her lips to his, deepening her gesture. A slow shiver rattled him as he drank in the firm gentleness. With a smile she pulled away, as if waiting to see his reaction. Again he breathed, trying to settle his racing heart as she smiled sweetly at him. He leaned her back in his one arm, putting his gauntleted hand under her smooth young chin. Tentatively he put his mouth to hers, and held her close. Slowly he leaned his head forwards, trying to duplicate what she'd done before. A strange shiver ran over him again, filling him with warm prickling pleasure. It was actually fun! Why had he not realized this before?

The kiss broke as she began to laugh. "You kiss like a frightened child," she chuckled.

"Now look here..." he began to bristle, and she winced. It was his way of distancing.

Just then they broke apart as a cough sounded at Rath's door. As they had been exchanging gestures Rath had failed to notice that the door was left ajar! Ashake slipped out of his grasp as he nervously adjusted his kilt and henhet in an attempt to pull himself together. Still he failed to steady his rushing heart within his breast. Ashake continued to watch him, having slipped into a corner to play with several vials of his "lightening powder."

"Er, enter," he said, trying to stop his voice from soaring in pitch.

Nefer peeked his head around the door, an amused smile on his smooth young face. "Uh, it's like dinner time! We cannot keep the young prince waiting for his party now, can we?"

"I'll be right there..." Ashake said, picking up her cloak. They exchanged a meaningful glance as she trotted out the door. The glance did not go unnoticed by Rath, who felt a bit jealous at that moment. One moment she kisses me then . . she and that . .a mere charioteer! Suddenly he felt the urge to run after the boy and kill him . .literally speaking of course . . . Rath's mind reeled and he was himself once more. The emotions still making his head dizzy. He put his hand to his head contemplating.

So what had really happened? A mere exchange of pleasantries? Rath could not decide. Yet whatever the reason, he had enjoyed it. But perhaps that was what she provided. Seeing a need in him she'd merely responded to it, as a healer does for a wounded patient. Not knowing otherwise his rational mind reduced the experience to mere physical pursuit with the impartiality of occam's razor. That is what it was, he decided. Her one-upmanship once more. Showing that she was his superior by her mastery of romantic encounters. Why had he not seen it before? Yes. He could play her game. In Egypt such action was little known. But perhaps this was a custom in her land. To use such physical encounter as a means for dialogue. Then onto the next conquest as it were. Casual physical contact. If that was all he could have, it did suffice.

Yet part of him regretted this analysis. Still, it proved he had some... prowess? His thoughts drifted back to those achingly lovely curves and her tapered legs, those Ra's plenty hips . . images of her naked thigh escaping the leather pants . . . his indulged a private fantasy of him, her, date palm wine licked from her navel . . warm honey . . dripped . . Rath breathed in sharply.

Then he became the Scribe once more.

"Se ya there, Rath," Nefer laughed. Rath sniffed as he rushed away. Just how much had he seen through that open door?

********************************************************************

Nefer suppressed a giggle as he rushed off to find the other Guardians. To herself Nefertina was rather amazed that this foreign Bard had singlehandedly enchanted the haughty scribe. That surprised wide eyed look on Rath's face when she first kissed him was worth the price of admission alone.

A loud alarm sounded, indicating that the Royal banquet was about to begin. Nefer joined others as he filed into the large chamber. Already they'd gathered at their tables, to sit and feast. At the Magician's table two places were vacant. As Nefer settled in next to Armon, his fellow guardian, they couldn't help but share a questioning glance.

"Where is Rath?" Armon asked, as he eyed an elephant ear dish that he could not yet touch.

"He's... a bit busy right now," said Nefer, choking back a laugh.

JaKal sat opposite them both, his wife Tia not present yet. She would eat later with the other servants in another set of quarters. A few chairs were vacant. "He has never been late to banquets before," he remarked. "It is not like him..."

Soon the visiting dignitaries appeared. Among them was the young pale lady with the long hair. She glanced left and right, before being directed to her table. A few minutes later Rath emerged, looking rather upbeat. A slight smile was upon his lips, quite unusual. As he seated himself there was a song he was humming rather softly.

"You are happy," Armon noted.

"My dear comrade, not even anything you say could disturb this marvelous occasion," he said, slapping Armon on the back. He sat beside Nefer, still humming. Nefer exchanged glances with JaKal, and shrugged. Where had they heard that tune before? Suddenly it hit them. It was one of the Celtic tunes that Ashake had played for the Prince!

Nefer hid his smile from the other guardians as he awaited beer and victuals. Apparently the passionate display had not modified the Scribe as much as he'd thought. For Rath was rather tight lipped about his personal life. Why was he so gloomy when he first came, then all of a sudden he lightened up? As if he'd lost the love of his life. He'd not sought the favor of a woman... till now. And he was filled with happiness. It made sense. Rath was in love, deeply. In such a short time too...

The feast was fairly much in full swing, as the guardians took their assigned seats next to the royal table. Prince Rapses dressed in his royal white shenti and afnet draped crown covering his head

like a cobra's hood, shifted uncomfortably in between his parents, Queen Tiye and Pharaoh Amenhotep. Rapses fiddled with the heavy gold ueraus and vulture head piece, flicking the moving wings with a finger.

Queen smiled and settled his hands back to his side. Amenhotep glared at his son, clearing his throat loudly. Rapses sighed, frowned and sat up straight, like the royal heir of the throne of Egypt should. Rapses was so bored. It was supposed to his feast on his birthday! The stuffy way the court behaved it just like any old stupid banquet to sit through . .as boring as Rath's lessons. Still the foods served were his favorites: stuffed water fowl with dates and chick peas, honey cakes topped in chopped pistachios, fresh grape juice mixed with wine, onions and leeks steamed in butter, a new fresh fruit called an apple. Rapses selected an apple from the pile and bite into the crispy skin. He munched contentedly, loudly, listening to the droned out speech Vizier Scarab gave in his honor.

Then the whole table looked at the source of the noise. Rath put his head in hands, sighing a Prayer to Thoth. JaKal rolled his eyes. Armon winked. Nefer grinned. The king and queen looked at their son in mute anger. A servant came by, cutting the fruit for him into bit sized chunks. Rapses slouched, reaching for the slice that softly slide into his mouth. Where was the fun in this? Rapses thought back to his present he had received earlier. What he wanted to do was use that

new archery set JaKal made. Rath gave a plain old scribe's writing kit complete with alabaster casing and fine brushes and a sycamore water cup. A ostrich skin draw string bag was Armon's gift. Rath scoffed at the plainness, but the Bodyguard assured Rapses that he would need it. When Rapses asked what it for. Armon shrugged and replied, "To put stuff in. All little boys need a pouch for their. . .stuff. Pretty stones, feathers, bit of broken glass beads, that stuff."

So Rapses proceeded to do just that. Rath just snorted. Nefer's present was very small a gold amulet of Bastet. He thanked his guardians with flowered words the scribe had taught him during his lessons.

But now . . . all Rapses wanted to do was sleep or eat. When would the entertainment start? His father had promised a grand show for his birthday feast, but at the rate Lord Scarab was talking it would never even begin? Rapses ate the last apple slice, bogged down by the unfairness of the adult world. When I am Pharaoh I am going to decree that all my celebrations start with the fun, not this long winded, good for nothing . . . .

Then a blindly flash of light surrounded Vizier Scarab, colored burgundy white smoke enveloped the surprised man. From the cloud emerged, the Asia Minor troupe the court that had come for this purpose. Scarab bellowed his outrage as Amenhotep raised his hand for silence.

"WE known of your speech, Vizier, " said the Pharaoh. "But my son grows tired after all it is HIS day we are celebrating."

Harumphing, the man trampled off as the court laughed at his exaggerated exit. A beautiful lady dressed in a wrapped around red and white hawk like bodice, long waist length chestnut hair flowed as she turned. The blue skirt twirled around her trim middle as the gold echoed fringe on the top and hem of fluttered, catching the eye as she sparkled and pranced to the tune her companions.

The tumblers did acrobatic back flips and somersaults all around her. The Magician caused birds to fly out his hat. The jugglers threw knives blindly fast between him almost cutting him with the sharp edges. More things followed as the music drew to a halt.

"Ladies and Gentleman of the High King's Court," cried Mufasa, the leader of the entertainers. His dark skin tattooed with spiraling red and black tattoos. "I am the Grand Mufasa of the West winds Troupe of Mystic Wonders. WE have come in honor of the young heir's birthday celebration. Health! Life! Prosperity! To you mighty Horus-In the-Nest. Homen neter to all dignitaries present and leaving" (that brought a laugh from the court).

"Let our resident lady of lyrics, the songstress supreme, that titillating troubadour, Elspeth Ashake Coulter, begin with a rousing verse and vigor for your ears and feast for your soul."

Glowing like a ceremonial torch, she pulled into a handstand walked two feet and did a walk over gracefully. Men cheered at the flash of legs beneath her skirt. "Alright let's get the caleaigh (Gaelic for party) going, shall we?"

Wenisa tossed her the rowan wood guitar that she caught in one hand. Ashake strummed a spiritedly ripples of notes, a jaunty song filled the throne hall. "I will need the help of everyone for the song. I want you join in on the chorus . .the words are 'Hey diddle diddle answer me this riddle, hey diddle do tell me what you will. I dance all day with the Cat and the Fiddle, come and lay with the heather on the hill.' Think you can do that?"

The murmured crowd seemed uneased. Ashake walked the length of the feasting tables. "Come one, get it a try. I mean, hear we are, in the golden sun filled halls of Ra himself. I have heard that you Egyptians of the paramour of culture in written word and monuments. If you can built the pyramids, you can surely sing a new song, now can't ya?"

"What is she doing," JaKal whispered to Armon.

"Beats me," the huge man tapped his golden fingers on the table.

Rath drank wine leisurely, studying her every move. His keen eyes missed nothing when she walked passed continuing her rallying to the court. The guests seemed uncertain what to do as they talked back and forth like bees. Maybe they were not as good as their reputations proceeded the scribe washed the wine down with a swallow of water.

"Perhaps it would be best to make you denials now, " Lord Scarab called from across the hall, "you seen to be losing the Pharaoh interest, young one."

"Excuse me, you pompous old wind bag, " retorted the angry Celt, "But isn't this the good Prince Rapses party? Any denial is better than listening to that overbearing three cursed speech you gave. You nearly ruined the audience because they're still asleep!"

Amenhotep laughed outloud.

"See even the king agrees with me," she said, twirling her skirt making the material flare around her ankles.

The purple and gold collared vizier glared at the female, shaking in rage. "I will not be mocked by the likes . . of . . ."

"Ah I almost hate to break to him, but you already have been, " Elspeth said to be court, who laughed hysterically.

Scarab thrust out his scepter at her and before he could speak . . "I always liked a man who lead with his tool," she purred, "Makes it easier for a lady to lead him.

But I must be fair and warn you that . . . . . denial is not a river in Egypt."

Rath burbled up a throaty high pitched guffaw. He nearly chocked on his food. "Oh, that was witty!" Nefer screamed so hard he bumped into the scribe for support.

The laughter went on for minutes the pillars holding up the roof threatened to collapse. Elspeth walked over to the guardians table. "So are we ready to try that verse out? Oh come now . . don't tell you forgot it already."

"Hey diddle diddle answer me this riddle, hey diddle do tell me what you will. We dance all with the Cat and the Fiddle, come and lay in the heather on the hill," Rath spoke in an even tone.

"I'm glad somebody was listening," the bard turned to him, smiling. Rath's heart leapt a beat, he almost left the ground as she flashed her grin. Such sparkling green eyes! I have never seen a shade quite like them before. Emerald? Or like his own, palm frond. No more like malachite even . . . But was it mere pleasure she had so provided. After all, she was an entertainer... his rational mind spewed out against his thirst.

"If he can learn it then the rest of you can I'll take no prisoners," she challenged, then began to teach the words until the whole room could say it.

"Perfect," she called, strumming the strings as the earlier tune permeated the room. "Jump in at the chorus, you will know when. . .

Early in the morning standing on the corner

pardon me if we're getting in your way

We'll tip our hats having never fear of foreigners

drop a coin in if 'in you likin' what we play

Singing hey diddle diddle, answer me this riddle

The entire court filled in their voices as they sang and the bard laughed as she played

Hey diddle doe tell me what you will

We dance all with the cat and the fiddle

come and lay with the heather on the hill

She tapped the side of the guitar three times to the beat, "Oh you sound absolutely lovely."

Giggles came when she continued with the next verse

Ward the cold from the fingers as you're clappin' hands

keep the rhythm with the tappin' of your feet

Fiddle music minglin' with the rappin' band

Clamor and dance as we're walkin' down the street

This time her audience was with her as the chorus rang out loud and strong. "The guys always seem to like that last line I don't know why."

We sing our songs of places that are far away

kings and castles, heroes brave and bold

Never traveled further than a faraway

Whiskey keeps our spirits from the cold

Hey diddle diddle answer me this fiddle

hey diddle doe tell me what you will

We dance all day with the cat and the fiddle

come and lay with the heather on the hill

Tomorrow we'll be just away as yesterday

now we see that the night is getting long

We'll disappear into a dust alley way

all you'll hear is the echo of a song

Hey diddle diddle answer me this riddle

he diddle doe tell what you will

We play all with the cat and the fiddle

come and lay with the heather on the hill

Elspeth bowed to the applause echoing in the chamber and raised her hands to stop. "Alright let me tell ya a wee story about the wee folk," she said, music filtered around softly as she spoke, " Now you see the wee folk being immortal they have no children on their own. So they steal small babies, human babies. Now they like don't rip 'em off and leave ya wonderin' where they went, no they're much trickier than that. So they'll take one their own kind and shrink him down and make it look like your baby. And they leave him in his place. Now when you go to get your wee baron that's been sitting in the sun for awhile, it looks like your baby at first. So you bring him and put him down to bed and he starts doing that thing no mother wants to hear. He wrinkled up his little face and he starts a cryin' and baulin' . .ahh ha ha. Oh poor thing! Must be hungry. So you put him up to your breast and he refuses mother's milk! He's screamin', he's kickin', howlin', he pokin' at cha! Acting like a completely rotten little thing. He couldn't possibly be your child now could he?"

Most of parents in gathered laughed in agreement.

"NO he's a changeling," said the bard. "Now the only way to get rid of a changeling is to trick it in to admitting that it's not a human baby at all. But they're very smart. You have to think of something completely outlandish, take 'em off guard. This was something that just happened to work."

A woman had a baby boy

she loved him much

and he gave here joy

The wee folk came and on a whim

they took the child away with them

And in his place left a changeling

sleeping in his bed

Eggs and crumbles and milk and grain

bring my baby back again

The woman saw his wizen face and said

"They taken my baby from his place"

The changeling shrieked and howled and cried

and naught she did would want it bide

She formed a plan to try to prove

this elfling child was not her love

Eggs and crumbles and milk and grain

bring my baby back again

She put a cauldron on to boil

ans soon the changeling ceased to roil

she broke a dozen eggs in half

and as he watch the changeling laughed

She put the egg shells in the brew

the changeling said "Me mother what a ya do?"

Why can can't you see my silly dove

I've eggs shells cooking on the stove

Eggs and crumbles and milk and grain

bring my baby again

In eighteen hundred years says he

a brewer's shells I never did see . .oppsie

and with those words he realize

he broke the spell and lost the prize

And with her baby boy restored

the lass was troubled never more

Elspeth's playing trickled to a few slow notes to the thunderous applause filling her ears. She bowed graciously and then curtsied to the royal family, deeply till her hair brushed the ground.

"Bravo," shouted Rath, his voice clearly yelling above the others. The bard took her place in the ranks of the entertainers. Valentine and his wife took center stage with their juggling knives act. Rapses watched rapt with attention as the sharp daggers flew fast and furious, arching high and low, in silver rain movements. Wenisa took her guitar for Ashake, smiling. "Fine job, as usual." Elspeth grinned back and watched the married couple go through their paces.

Wenisa was up next with his illusions. Lifelike birds, butterflies, rabbits, and hands popped into existence through his words and out his hat. Rapses laughed and clapped. Watching the illusions take to the air, Rath had to admit that this magician was pretty good. Then Elspeth moved as if spell bound by the sight. The old mage waved his hands around her lithe body, draping a red blanket that covered her completely. Wenisa spoke in a language Rath couldn't understand, but he felt the power from that old body.

Then the covering came off . .and there was Elspeth . .. or what was her. She glowed totally in amber like a statue. The transformation was breath taking! In a showering prismatic display of light, the Celt's body elongated becoming more serpentine. The blue skirt she worn fluttered down to the floor. From the waist up she was still human, but from the waist down . . her legs has fused together in a long snake's tail.

Rath gulped, stunned at the sight. Drinking his wine in one swift gulp, never taking his eyes off the performer. She is beautiful! He thought in any form she takes. Set take whether or not she had merely wanted to entertain him in that lab before. There was none that could compare with her. Even to bask in her amusement was worth the cost of no emotional involvement. Yet could he be wrong? Could there be something there betwixt this Scribe and this... performer?

The naga female brought herself up to her full height towering over Wenisa, gyrating like a cobra in heat. The musicians took their cue. Soon music permeated the hall and Elspeth the Naga danced for the Pharaoh and his family. Finger cymbals keep time to the beat laid out for her as the supple female bended and twisted in ways any normal human woman could not, making the music work for her. Sweeping her long chestnut hair in an arch, she turned, caressing the curves of her body seductively, cupping her breasts, smiling through the cascade of russet curls. She with the grace of a cobra, rolling low on the marble floor then high up out the serpent lower half. Rath had often watched the mating dance of serpents, Elspeth movements echoed this entirely. Vibrating ever so slightly, then swiftly turning without warning, only to take up the sway and gait with the music. Looking upon this blatant sexual display, Rath could hardly keep his eyes off the nagina slithering seductively her way towards the guardians table. His face a mask of heady delight as she passed. Ptah, it hurts to look at her! She belongs in the temple of Hathor as a priestess of delight! Rath wanted to run captive to those arms, carry her off into the dunes, away from these prying eyes, and make her weep in ecstacy as their bodies melded into oneness. Hips swaying to the rocklicksome beat of a drum, her jade and milk white scales, shimmered in the torchlight like fire on water.

Then like lightening, she turned, the snake body spinning so fast the audience couldn't see the movement it was so subtle. A single red rose landed in front of Rath. The scribe picked up the offering, twirling it around in his hand, confused. The nagina laughed, dancing back to Wenisa, chanting. The same amber light shone around her and she became human once again.

Elspeth dressed now only in a thong and wrap around bodice took the magician hand, bowing to their appreciative rapt audience. Nefer saw the flower in Rath's hand as he clapped, "Hey, nice present! I think she likes you," he teased.

"Oh, this trifle," scoffed the scribe, smelling the strange flower. Sweet, airy, like honey, he mused. Rolling the stem and careful of the thorns, Rath grinned slightly, "She was just saying hello, that is all!"

"Ah, ha . . yes Rath sure," JaKal chimed in, seeing the haughty scholar flash his green eyes at the amused hunter still clapping.

"I thought she was cute, too," Armon leaned over and whispered far too loudly for a whisper. Rath momentarily was caught by a bitter pang of jealously as the Bodyguard watched Elspeth tie her discarded skirt back on, whistling his hello. She looked up, grinned, and waved, then ran back to her troupe in the wings.

As the next act proceeded, Rath shared a small bit of information with his friends. "My friends, I am going on a small trip," said he, with a smile. "I shall see you in a few months time..."

"What? Amenhotep's letting you take off?" asked JaKal.

"There... are some personal details I must work out in Thebes," said he.

"Would this concern a certain young lady..." said Nefer. But a sharp look from Rath silenced him. Armon and JaKal glanced at Rath quizzically. But he folded his arms and said little the rest of the banquet. Which was quite an improvement, Nefer thought. It seemed a bit better to let him have this little secret. Perhaps she could collect on her favor of silence someday.

"Of course not," Rath sniffed. "The Great one himself expressed his desire that the young Prince pay respects to Amun Ra at the temple of Thebes for the first time. In light of it being his ninth birthday... and he has asked me to accompany Rapses upon this trip!"

"After this, I think it would have little significance," JaKal sighed to himself as he noticed the Prince's delight of his birthday feast.

Next up was the Egyptian favorite wrestling. Two dark skinned gladiators slaves fought bravely. Then the Grecian and Babylonian singers and entertainers performed their amazing feats. Last of all was the dancers of the temple of Hathor come to pay their respects to Amenhotep and guests. The seven dancers moved, tumbled, and kicked like graceful lotus floating on water. They wore very little, only a kilted bright purple linen around their waists. Sistrums with the shushing metal disks sounded in time with their hips. Elspeth watched, fascinated. She'd replaced her naga costume with a loose fitting green kirtle belted with a strong leather belt. It was black, worked with spirals and triune marks. A broached fastened this loose garment at her chest, gleaming with its triple arm design set off with malachite. When the musicians played along, she could no longer control herself. She twirled and copied their movement exactly where she stood.

Four of the main group broke off, that when the Celt join in. The remaining three were surprised by this newcomer but she mimicked their dance perfectly in unison with them that they in turn incorporated her in the dance. A long red diaphanous scarf billowed around, and the Celt's feet seemed to leave the floor with every step. The dancers laughed with her, and danced on.

The belly dance was a celebration of life, love, and passion. The on lookers were memorized by the spinning bodies to glorious to be in clothing that would better naked in this display of joy. The only thing Rath could see was the swirling form of Elspeth in front of him. Wetting his lips, Rath knew his mouth was dry. His heart in his throat, the scribe ached to reach out and tug at the scarf she was wrapped in and drag her mouth to his hungry lips, then wrap his body wraith-like around hers, and then to taste the sweet nectar that was hers alone. He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of gauntled hand.

All the dancers did a back flip in one line ending the set. Pharaoh Amenhotep, Queen Tiye, and Prince Rapses stood in unison. Beckoning the dancers to come forward and receive their gifts, Amenhotep gave silver necklaces to the priestess of Hathor. Elspeth tried to a make retreat, she had already crashed their dance she didn't want to intrude of their royal gifting.

"Lady Ashake, please, step forward," said Amenhotep, gesturing to the confused bard. The Celt stepped up to the dias not sure how to proceed. The tall, handsome god-king of Egypt pulled a jeweled turquoise ring off his finger and a gold bracelet from his wrist. Elspeth could only look at the Queen for guidance who motioned her to take the gift. Very shyly, the bard received it with a single eloquent nod of her head. She left with the dancers a little nervous.

Armon was right in front of her with a pint of beer waiting. "I thought you could use this after that exercise."

Elspeth took the offered drink gladly, "You read my mind, you old charmer you! Seems as if you all are having a hell of a good time!" They toasted to Rapses good health. JaKal and Nefer came up beside them as well, drinks in hand.

"You were great," marveled Nefer nudging her in the ribs. JaKal lifted his glass in her honor. "To the Lady Ashake, may her fringe always fly!"

"Ouch, you're embarrassing me," said the bard, sipping her beer.

"Is that your idea of a proper toast for the magnanimous performance of that caliber ?" chided Rath. He thought a moment and spoke, "To the wondrous lady of the silken veils, may the winds never touch you back and may our tread upon the earth be soft as sunshine."

Elspeth looked at the scribe, laughing. "Don't ya want to take him home?" She raised her cup high, "To dragons, wizards, and love and the never ending ties of friendship."

Five cups clanged together as one. Still breathless, she raised her eyebrows, as if indicating she would like to sit with her new found friends. Nefer raised his eyebrows as she stood beside the seat next to Rath's. A flush came over his face and he smiled pleasantly at her. "By all means," he said, pulling a chair out for her. "Do... enlighten us with your presence..."

"He almost sounds engraved," Elspeth teased him. Rath gave a slight frown, but drowned his expression in a drought of wine. "Hey there! Brew for everyone... on me..."

"You do not have to pay," Armon said, through a chunk of elephant tenderloin.

"It's just a habit," Ashake shrugged, and winked at Nefer. He giggled, and they shared a secretive look. The effect was not lost on Rath, for he rolled his eyes. More flirtatious foolishness. Perhaps she was not so easily won.

"Permit me to assist you," Rath said, reaching for the nearest servant, and making sure fine drought was poured into her flagon. He would not permit Armon to be the only one to provide her with refreshment.

"Thanks," she smiled, and taking the vessel she drained half of it in one take. Then wiped her mouth with the back of one hand. Nefer grinned, and JaKal appeared a bit amused. As for Rath he appeared a bit disillusioned. "You Msirians always did know how to brew beer right. Most pleasant foam on this..."

A dish of various fruits was set before each. It seemed to Nefer that Rath only ate vegetables and fruits. Perhaps that was why he was so scrawny and thin. Nefer always liked a bit of meat now and again. Ashake daintily helped herself to a large piece, pulling off individual bits as she inserted them into her shapely mouth. And she washed everything down with large droughts of the beer, clearly enjoying herself.

She clapped both hands together, and a servant emerged with a bowl of strange orange fruit. Rath had never seen such fruit before. Neither had Armon, JaKal or Nefer. They marveled at the perfect sphericalness of these fruits as she took one in long white fingers, rotating it. "Allow me to introduce you to mandarin oranges. You enjoyed the apples so much, from my corner of the world. That I would bid you sample another, from the land we last performed within. From the distant land of Chin... please, take them..." Each took an orange sphere. Yet none at the table seemed sure of how to proceed.

Armon bit right into his, and winced. "Oh, it's sour, and sweet!" he exclaimed.

"This is how you eat it," Ashake said, with a chuckle as she took a knife from her belt. Slowly she peeled the fruit, till the succulent inner portion was visible. Then she thrust her thumb into the middle of the fruit, and pulled it apart. The fruit came away in sections. She then proceeded to offer a piece to each. Hesitantly they took the pieces, biting into them.

Quizzically Rath watched, arms folded across his chest. Till Ashake handed him a section, which he took from her between two long bronze fingers. Since she seemed to be enjoying it so much, he obliged. Juice dripped from his hand as he took the piece as he tentatively tried a bite. The look of pleasant surprise was priceless. Ashake opened her mouth, gently running her tongue over the juice that dripped from his hand to hers when the transfer had occurred. "Mm," she murmured, licking her fingers intently. Then she held up another piece to him, placing it in his mouth directly as he turned to face her in surprise. "Like nothing you've tasted?" she said, mimicking the paragon of innocense. Yet his green eyes suggested otherwise, as if he discerned her true thoughts. He nodded as he chewed tentatively. All eyes were on him.

"Well, it's rather good," he said, unaware of Nefer's sly grin. Armon grabbed another, biting past the hard rind and swallowing the orange whole. Ashake continued to hand pieces of hers to Rath, licking the juice from her fingers as he finished the rest. However, the last slice he took from her hand and gently placed the fruit in her mouth. Rath slowly fed her with a smile. As his fingers released the slice, her tongue flicked the end of his fingers and briefly sucked the juice off while his smile turned to amused panic.

All the strange sights and sounds of Ashake's dance coalesced into his numb brain. Still if he closed his eyes he could see the swaying. Suddenly it because very difficult to breathe. "Excuse me," he mumbled, to the others. "It grows late... and I must retire..."

"So soon," Ashake said, a look of disappointment in her eyes. They seemed to flush a sad blue.

"Yes. I have had... quite enough excitement for one evening... oh..."

Nefer grinned. "I'll say you have," he needled. This prompted an evil look from Rath as he rose and bowed his head to lady Ashake and his friends. It was all he could do not to stumble clumsily away from their table.

Something about the intensity of the banquet surged through him. Numbed him, engulfed him. Those few minutes in her arms did not seem sufficient. He had convinced himself she'd been merely playing with his affections. Flirting. A barbarian woman playing games with his heart. But when he saw her dazzling performance at the banquet he was made aware of a chemistry that disturbed him. Were those awkward first kisses filled with far more meaning than he dared hope?

He felt shame that he'd squelched his fluttering heart and desires that were filled so well at her touch. Even though she'd seemed sincere enough, that coquettish nature had transformed his pleasure in that lab to intense pain. That she was only playing games with his inexperience.

Now his initial impressions were fully and painfully refuted. Something in that kiss had been real! To think she would be attracted... drawn like a moth to a candle flame to him! As one cobra is hypnotized by the dance of another. Dare he think he could find what JaKal had found so in Tia, his wife?

So why was he back here in his lab and not there at the banquet. As he slipped into the comfort of his own space again he sighed. All these new emotions ran rampant throughout his mind and heart. It ached with a longing that he'd not ever known. How could this strange woman affect him so?

He looked down at his hand. Still he clenched that strange flower with the spikes upon its stem. Somehow he felt the need to preserve it, and hunted for a container in which to place it. One of his narrow necked flasks seemed to do nicely. Before long he had filled the flask with water, and inserted the flower stem first within.

Dewdrops gathered upon its corolla of furled petals. Strange how the heart of the flower was not visible in the curled mass of petals. Hiding its secrets, as it would wait for full bloom. Rath figured that it might not be so lovely if all the insides of the flower were revealed at once. Rather it was preferable to admire the flower, and allow it to open within its own time. Even if it never fully released its heart for him to see, he would still think it the loveliest flower he'd ever seen.

Rath pulled out a papyrus scroll and flattened it out. Taking his scribe's palate he attempted to sketch the flower for his journal. Somehow capturing images quieted the cascade of thoughts and emotions that jangled his heart and soul. He grumbled that he could not do it justice. Perhaps he needed a different perspective. His long thin fingers touched the stem, seeking to rotate the flower. Immediately there was a sharp sticking sensation on his index finger. To his extreme irritation he realized he'd forgotten the thorns!

"Curses of Set," he grumbled, licking the drop of blood the flower had drawn. A bit of the blood had fallen upon his sketch, and it was then he noticed it was the same exact color as the petals!

"By Ptah and Thoth must every experience with that woman be this painful?" he muttered crossly. Still the rose held its secrets, thorns erect as the flower absorbed the fresh water. Still it was lovely as ever, and he could not bring himself to be angry at this instrument of his finger injury. He'd been careless in handling the flower... if he had taken greater care he would not have been pricked.

The parallel hit him hard, like a leaden weight. Of course. His entire approach was bungling, hasty. Despite all that had transpired, the lady remained beautiful. Despite her firm sharp temper, and biting wit she was lovely. Her past and heart were hidden by her furled petals, yet still so lovely when considering her blossom. She did not have to reveal all her secrets, for that made it all the more desirable and more so like a rose. Blood red petals like her blood red lips. Again he reached for the blossom, careful this time of the thorns. And found he could easily lift in between two fingers. Rath crushed the petals against his nose, inhaling the sweet scent. So softly the petals caressed his nose and mouth. As soft as that touch of her lips had been.

What thorns she had to protect her sturdy frame. Without the thorns would the flower be so well preserved? It was inherent to the rose to have the thorns. As inherent as the succulent petals. Otherwise how would this rare flower survive without natural defenses.

But this was foolishness. More aesthetic nonsense... he was a scribe and a scientist. He needed his solitude...

His mind replayed the banquet. Sights and sounds grew louder and louder. The laughing, the drinking, the singing were quite unlike any other Egyptian banquet he'd attended. Life had been brought to this tall serene palace. Like the rose within its vase its color brightened up the drab spots. Alive, green and red, not lifeless garish pigments glaring from walls.

How could this life be his? A rollicking time of joy, without reserve. Eating and licking ones fingers, one did do. But the undulation of that dance... and the clear laughter of her voice mingled into a picture. Something he could never be like. So unlike him. He needed his discipline. So much noise and bother!

No... yes... screamed his thoughts against each other as his heart and mind divided in two.

He had seen a glimpse of what she was, her beauty as he had seen her thorns in the past weeks. Even though she had bristled it was only for protection of the valuable blossom of her soul.

Rath replaced the flower, drawing in a huge sigh. Such lack of restraint was something he could never acclimate to. She was asking things of him he could not deliver. OR was she trying to reveal parts of him as hidden as those parts of her? Waiting to blossom within a vase. Dare he pluck the flower, and put it in a fancy vase? For cut off from its roots it would fade and die. Even if it was beautiful for oh such a short time. Crush red rose petal lips to his face to smell its sweetness in his private space?

Or would it shrivel up and die if he did so? No. Life was resilient. He saw that hidden part of her there. The rose had opened its petals upon the stage, revealing a serpentine wonder. Much like his own animal totem. She was not asking him for anything more that what was already hidden in his petals. What was in his heart?

So like him, yet so unlike him. The aching need came over him again with a vengeance. Slowly he picked up a scroll, and tried to loose himself in the magic. Memorizing spells amidst the sea of hieroglyphics always lent him satisfaction. Mastering ancient knowledge gave him control of his emotions. Filled the void in his soul like food and drink could never. Yet it felt empty tonight. Knowledge could no longer fill him. Not like anything. Not like she, with her tales and laughing and dances...

How he longed to hold her, and tell her how much she completed him. How the aching was chased away in happy laughter. He was happy there, basking in her glow, those red lips and that lush body only wanting to share joy. To crush the flexible flower petals, devil take the thorns that may draw his blood. He could avoid them if he learned how. Just to inhale that sweetness inside the soft caress. To pluck the flower from that stage and drag it to his lab. Just to have it for himself as he had this flower to adore and admire with every fiber of his being. It would live long enough for him to know its sweetness, for him to hold it close and give it all those hidden emotions kept crushed behind his own petals...

"Am I interrupting something?" said a musical voice that made Rath jump a full foot as he threw aside the scroll.

"Oh," he gasped, putting a hand to his chest. He turned to stare right at Ashake herself. She wore the long flowing green kirtle, attired for the banquet still. "Aren't you er... missing the others?" he asked.

"They're all wasted," smiled she. "Why aren't you having fun with the rest of them? From your reaction to the banquet, you were actually enjoying yourself!"

"I.. needed some air," he sighed, turning to his workbench.

"You are really something, you know that?" she said, striding over to him. "All those people having fun around you... and you come in here and hide..." Gently her hands rested on his shoulders. Instantly they tensed again. Yet her fingers soothed as before, easing the knots away with a gentle tingle that felt marvelous.

"Sometimes... I cannot appreciate... such mirth," sighed he, letting her massage his whole back this time. "I do not have a rational explanation for this behavior."

"Rath," she called him, not using any of the nicknames for the first time. "Have you ever stopped trying to figure so many things out for a change? That sometimes there isn't an explanation for some magic. That some magic is... just that..."

"Mm," he sighed, turning to face her at last. "I have been preoccupied as of late."

"Sound like you need more... loosening up," she said, a sly smile upon her face.

"About that... earlier today," he breathed, putting a hand to his chest. "I... wasn't altogether sure... of your sincerity... I am not accustomed.... to..."

"I see," she said quietly. "The pleasures of such contact are unknown to you. So you would not know the difference between innocent play and true passion? How sad... and how lost..."

"Do not make mirth of me, my lady," he said, turning away from her. "It does not escape me that ever since you arrived... I.. I... cannot find myself..."

"What is it you seek? You have seen what I do, and you actually allowed yourself happiness! There is true magic in pleasure, not to be found here alone in this sterile sanctuary! You are missing so much! And that taste of what you could have was given to you this night. Why not allow yourself to pursue it! How else would you know..."

"Milady, I cannot continue like this," he gasped. "Things are no longer what they seem. I must know... is it true desire... for me... that leads you... to vex me so with your presence..."

"Mm. I know," said she. Those eyes fixed into his, and he was hypnotized. More than ever before he wanted her, no needed her. Like as the Green Nile needs the water as it's life's blood. Now he knew he did for certain. Not just wanted. Desired beyond everything else that had once been dear.

"Lady Ashake," he said, softening his voice as he strode forwards, arms extended. "I must know. Do not be offended by my next question. Was it merely to entertain me... that we... er... ahem.. Had our last exchange?"

"Green-eyes," she said, shaking her head. "Do you really have to ask me such a daft question? Look within and you will know the answer as I do..."

Would she tease him? Yet as he dared put hands on her waist she did not push away or laugh. Rath let himself sigh with pleasure as she embraced him. Hands kneaded his tight back as her fingers danced away the tenseness. Automatically their lips met, as natural and inevitable as the flooding of the sacred Nile. Not just a light touch, but a full kiss to his lips. This time he felt her mouth open as a firm tongue sought to coax open his own. Slack jawed he felt the investigating tongue as it gently tickled his own with moist warm breath. This undid him completely, and he could feel his legs turning to mud as he leaned upon her. One hand reached around and slid down his waist, firmly squeezing his backside as he gasped. The resulting jolt caused him to press his face more firmly to hers as his eyes closed with his sigh. Complete relaxation came over him, such as the loosening of a great knot in his stomach.

His sighs came through his kiss and it was Elspeth's turn to shiver with delight. And something else happened. For a shimmering spread in his mind, like a rippling stream. With a feather like touch, the tendrils of her mind reached out. She respected his need of privacy. His most intimate thoughts she swayed clear of, even his Ren, his soul name she backed from feeling his rush of concern. She didn't rampage though his mind like a fire breathing dragon as he expected. No, she trod softly as unicorn . . . .the rational part of his mind wondered what a unicorn was . .And then . . . His thoughts merged with those of another. Hers. And they were beautiful as she was. Never had he felt so content as in her arms.

It was only to breath that he withdrew from the kiss. His lips felt swollen from this unusual activity, still burning from the pressure. "Oh my," he sighed, the breath rising from his sandaled feet to the top of his headdress. Still he held her close, not wanting to let go. "Quite... extraordinary..."

"I've been called worse," said she, softness in her eyes. "Not bad for a beginner..."

"Beginner indeed! Now what brought that on," he grumbled, as if frustrated. "I thought you'd said it wasn't a case of..."

"This isn't a magical spell..." said she, shaking her head. "Just relax and go with the feeling. Open yourself up to express how you truly feel! Only then will you know the answer to your own question. Alas, it is part of the magic that I cannot tell you till you realize it for yourself..."

Again he tried, leaning her back as he made contact with the curve of her mouth. She'd opened her mouth a bit... not too far. Gently he deepened the kiss, running his hand along her back. He shivered as his tongue slipped against hers in her mouth. Bizarre, but exciting. No Msirian ever kissed this way. Yet he combined the kiss with a gentle yet firm brushing of his nose against hers. Her resulting sigh felt marvelous. As if she'd merged with him into one living being.

"That was sweetness itself," she sighed, as they surfaced for air. "You learn quickly. And one improves with more practice..."

"Mm," he murmured, feeling the faint tingling that still numbed his mouth. Was it because they were both magicians that he felt this sensation? "It requires further study..."

"You can say that again," said she, eyes closing as he pulled her to him again. Their lips met, and each exchanged a deep and meaningful kiss as they clutched each other close in his lab. Rath opened one eye a bit as he heard a faint laugh. It wasn't from Elspeth, for his own kiss held back all sound except the gentle mumble of delight through her mouth. Rather it was external. He glimpsed a head slipping into view. It was that infernal charioteer Nefer. Couldn't he mind his own business for once?

Rath raised his hand as he reached around Elspeth. Still he continued his kiss, gesturing to the door. It swung shut with a final slam on Nefer as they enjoyed their next few minutes alone. In the depths of her arms and her kiss he had learned the answer he sought. His heart leapt as their thoughts merged for but a small measure of time. He had no need to pluck the flower, for it had come to him on its own. Grown right into his life as he'd never could have hoped....

*****************************************************************

He'd written the verse last night. Choked full of emotions that he could not stand, those that demanded he put pen to papyrus. Only by spilling onto its blank surface could such words and feelings become properly formed. As he surveyed the crude result, he sighed. It was the third attempt to capture the fleeting emotions:

Astray or captured all bear witness

to the skill consummate skill of the lady

Shrewd at her craft and perfected by heaven

her hand has the feel of new-blown lotus

Her breast the delicate scent of ripe berries

her arms twine like vine-stems and tangle

And her face is a snare of fine wrought

silver moon kissed by Thoth

And I? Who am I in this recital?

The proverbial goose and my love it is lure me

tricked by her tasty bait

to this trap of my own ingenious imaginings...

Sighing he let dry the ink, and shook his head. Perhaps this was as good as the words would become. Precipitated from his morass of conflicting emotions, he could breathe more easily. Did she think the same? Why was he no longer sure?

Rath felt light on his feet the next day. Rapses had fallen asleep at his lecture yet again. In his ands he carried a spray of flowers. He made his way to the guest chambers where he heard the strains of distant music flowing.

His heart leapt at the sight of her, so lovely there by the small pool. She was playing to the Prince, singing ancient words that cloyed and burbled in a lovely manner. It was what she called the speech of the Gael, her native tongue. Sweetly her voice wrapped music with the words as her small stringed instrument accompanied her.

But what if he knew the true meaning of the words he perhaps would have flushed profusely...

My always love, believe

desire is measured out to me as much as you

So let me do, dear heart, my heart's desire with you . . .

And I am in your arms

(But let me paint me eyes . .I beg you, to see you is a

shining dazzles them and I crave shade and shadow)

I curl against you, for I would know again the mastery by

which you prove...

Unfortunately before she could finish her song, he tripped as he slipped further into the room. One of Rapses' multiple toys had snared his large foot, sending him stumbling. At the sight of his tutor, Rapses froze to attention. "I'm... sorry... Rath," he said. "I just stepped out... for a break..."

"Think nothing of it, young Prince," Rath said with a bow. "It just so happens I am giving you the rest of the day off from lessons. Go find JaKal and go for one of those hunts..."

Prince Rapses knew something was up. He sidled up to his teacher. "What's going on? Are you sick or something?"

"Take a nice long hunt..." Rath whispered to him, cocking an eyebrow towards the visitor. Rapses smiled mischievously at his teacher.

"Oh really," he grinned. This was too much.

"JaKal is waiting," Rath said simply. "You must beg my indulgence my lady, for the Prince is about to go upon his hunt..."

"Not a problem," she smiled. JaKal stepped in, and Rapses went after him eagerly. Quizzically JaKal glanced from Elspeth to Rath, then shrugged as Rath urged him leave.

"Ah, my lady," he said, coming over to her softly. "I hoped I might catch you here..."

"Indeed," she smiled, remotely amused. "And why would that be, Green eyes..."

Still he winced at the familiar. Despite yesterday. "Er... there are certain matters... I wish to discuss with you... pertaining to a new set of developments..."

"It sounds serious," said she. "What has happened? Did a relative pass on, to the Afterlife?"

'It is serious.. but that is not it," said he. Slowly he rehearsed the words. He had to say to her. "It has come to my attention that there are... feelings between us," he said, choosing his words. "And this has lead to some rather disturbing turn of events..."

"Disturbing?" she said, raising an eyebrow. She frowned slightly.

"Yes... it is as if everything I have known... has come to a grinding halt. And a change has happened. I am going away... for a few weeks... to Thebes..."

"Why?"

'"Prince Rapses is to pay tribute at the temple of Amun Ra, for the first time. Amenhotep himself has asked me to accompany him to Thebes for this great honor..."

"So you are going away?" Elspeth said quietly. "I had hoped... that you would stay longer..."

"This is part of my sacred duty as guardian... I cannot refuse..."

"The traveling band I join is considering moving on. And I have traveled long from my homelands... I hardly know when I can return... in safety... I may well leave on the next tide..."

"I am aware of your... impending departure... and it is unfortunate... you and I... have grown so close... er... that this next thing I have to say is difficult..."

His nerve broke and silence ensued. "So... this is it..." she said quietly. "After all that has happened..."

"I know it's sudden... and I can understand you hesitation..."

"You can understand..." she said with a low voice, head lowered. "That's a bloody laugh..."

"What are you saying..."

"I cannot believe it... or maybe I can. You would be so cruel..."

"What... of course not..."

She pushed against him, storming away as she rounded on him. Her eyes flashed almost burgundy... "Why... ye amadon! Only a friggin idjit like me w'd be so daft and green to expect ye to understand!"

"Whatever is the matter?" he asked her, taken aback.

"You had found the answer that night before!" she cried in rage and shock. "At last I thought ye'd grasped it!"

"Milady... I did find the answer!" Rath said, taken aback by the sharp look in her once lovely eyes.

"I give you my heart... and this is the thanks! Of all the clarty nerve, ye bastard! You're going away... without saying goodbye... how could you, you sonofabitch..." she shouted, hands grasping for him in anger. A stinging slap landed against his cheek.

"I don't see why you're taking it this way," he snapped, rubbing it where her hand had made contact. "This is most unbecoming..."

"Take your royal platitudes and shove them up yer royal are!" she shrieked. "I shuild hae known to throw away my love upon ye!"

He turned away. "Now that's fine," he stormed. "Fine way to react when I'm simply... trying.. to ask... you..."

"Ask me what," she sniffed, feeling the tears in her eyes. They burned hotly on her cheeks.

"When I am simply asking for you to come with me... and Rapses... to Thebes."

"What.." she asked, feeling strange emotions churning in himself as well as she. Now she had that helpless look in her face. Just as when he'd dressed her down for stealing his henhet that one day, the vulnerable look was back. How could he have expressed himself so badly!

"If I must beg... then I shall,' he said, dropping on one knee. "Please... do not go... I am asking for your hand in marriage..."

Silence hit Ashake. Slowly the realization dawned. The burgundy eyes flushed a momentary grey with confusion. Rath gripped her hand in his, looking rather vulnerable. A begging look set in his aristocratic features, softening them. "Please, Ashake," he said, softly. "I... want you... at my side... always..."

"You... want to marry me..." she said.

"That was the general idea... what did you think I ...."

Understanding set in, and she laughed with relief. She threw herself into his arms, almost knocking him off balance. "You... are impossible, and mean, ye wretch!" she scolded.

"Really, I don't see what this fuss and confusion is about," he muttered.

"Rath, shut up," she said, and kissed him so firmly he almost felt himself melting. His stone hardened heart seemed to crack, warming to life in the sun of her love. Slowly he lifted her off her feet as their kiss intensified. Those marble white legs seemed to wrap in their own embrace as she clutched him close in her arms. Like a python constricting its prey she wrapped him within her own embrace.

"I take it this means you accept," said he softly as he still held her off her feet, raised a bit above his face. Her chestnut locks fell into his face. All she could do was wink and smile with those elvish eyes as she said nothing. Even though it was a bit tiring to be holding her... like a small child, and she really wasn't, he hardly felt her weight there in his arms as she straddled his waist. Such physical closeness was... rather uncharacteristic. Yet very... pleasing.

"But there is one condition," said she, pressing a finger to his lips. "If we are... perhaps to go there together... and to wed... I ask a boon of you..."

"Name it, my beloved," he said, his voice catching on the words he'd never thought he'd have the chance to say to a woman. Because of his duty.

"All I ask is to be by your side... as an equal. To share in all aspects of your life... to be with you at Memphis... for there is much two can do together that is difficult for one alone..."

"So you wish to share in Rapses education..." said he, gently putting her down. As pleasant as it felt to hold her as he did, for all her slenderness and height, his back was becoming a bit strained from the unaccustomed weight. "But of course... you have much you can teach him of the many lands that you have journeyed through..."

"More than that. We have much we can teach one another... and true marriage is a partnership... not a wife beneath husband doing his duty... but a sharing of equals.."

"Such strange ideas," he sighed. "But I cannot refuse you, Ashake."

"I doubt I'd let you," she teased. "Although there is no one I'd rather be beneath..."

Rath blushed an intense shade of red, rather embarrassed. And he was almost mortified when JaKal returned momentarily. "Am I interrupting anything?" he asked, good natured. His eyes which missed no details, took in the sight of Rath and Elspeth, in each other's arms.

"Oh, nothing," Rath grumbled, as Elspeth backed away from him. "Only just one of the most important decisions in my life..."

"JaKal, don't you have a hunt to go on?" Elspeth asked him.

"The Prince had forgotten his throwing weapon, and sent me hence to fetch it..." said JaKal, innocently enough. JaKal's blue eyes glanced first at Rath, then at Elspeth. A slow smile came over his lips. "Perchance the dove has found himself a nesting partner..."

Just then Armon and Nefer happened to walk into the chamber. Caught a bit out of sorts, Rath and Elspeth wished there was some magic chamber that would swallow them up. Had they been standing there long? Nefer had a big grin on his young face, and Armon seemed to be smiling as well. Rath folded his arms across his chest, as Elspeth seemed to do the same.

Then the Prince came in as well. This was too much. "What's up?" he asked. "Aren't we going hunting JaKal," he asked.

"It would seem we have caught two elusive prey," JaKal said to him.

"If you three don't mind, I was having a private discussion with Lady Ashake, till you barged in," Rath snapped. "Is my personal life the subject of public scrutiny?"

"Yes," said Nefer with a laugh.

"We are your friends," said Armon.

"Lady Ashake is staying with us here..." Rath explained. At that moment she could have hit him for not telling them more.

"Well, if you guys must know," Elspeth said after a sigh. "You're all going to be seeing a lot more of me around here. Some of us will be seeing a lot more of me than they bargained for," she added, nudging Rath with one shoulder. Again Rath felt his face flush.

"I.. have asked for the lady's hand in marriage," Rath blurted out. Everyone looked stunned. Then he felt a reassuring squeeze from Elspeth as he felt her hand slip onto his shoulder. Slowly he slipped his gauntleted hand over that one, drawing strength from her reassuring touch. Now it was hardly a secret.

"Congratulations!" everyone seemed to cry at once. Armon seized Rath and gave him a bear hug. Nefer grasped Elspeth's hand in his and shook it firmly. JaKal pressed his hands into Rath's once Armon had set him on his feet, a bit winded but otherwise unharmed.

"Way to go!" Rapses said, raising his little hand.

"Why did you keep it a secret, you sly one," Nefer said to Rath as Armon and JaKal congratulated Elspeth.

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

'He's speechless... for once," Armon said.

"That's an improvement," JaKal said, with a slight smile.

"You're just as impossible as he is, ye idjits!" Ashake chided them, as she slipped her arm around Rath's waist. It seemed that if she married him, she'd be marrying a piece of his friends as well.

[email protected] please e-m me Java Goddess and tell me what you thought of the story. Trynia and I worked really hard to you this tale. Please write back. It took two months to write this one.

In part 2, the adventure continues. Pirate raids, a kidnaping, the trip to Thebes, meeting the in laws, the wedding the gala events of the year, and what you have all wanted to see Rath finally gets laid!

[email protected] Java Goddess's e-m address. If you liked the story, please, please e-m me back and tell me, ok? How can I know if anyone likes my stuff if you don't take the time and write? I have written three MA stories and gotten nothing back in response. Theresa Merin and I really worked hard on this story. So your response is needed. Thanks for reading!