Pankh sneered at amulets and religious symbols. When men or women hung such things about their necks, or built little shrines in their gardens, or more comical still, erected temples, Pankh laughed. Tomb robbers were atheists and knew what the common run of people did not. Nothing mattered except possessions.

“Why don't we wait for the sun to rise,” said one policeman, “so we can see better?”

In the east, the sand had brightened. In a moment, dawn would explode over the desert. Surely Pankh was not too late to get the gold! “Let's go over to the causeway,” he suggested, herding them. “I'm sure my precious amulet is lying on the stones.”

“Then why were you coming from the desert?” asked one policeman pleasantly.

“The Lord of the Two Lands required a sacrifice to the jackals and to Anubis, jackal god of the dead, because of the urgency of Pharaoh's prayers and the need for celestial guidance.”

The guards were unconvinced. He did manage to jostle them onto the causeway, however.

“Here it is!” exclaimed the other policeman, astonished. “Such a tiny ornament on such a vast surface! You are very lucky, sir.” He stooped to retrieve an amulet which he first drew over his lips to obtain its blessing and then handed to Pankh.

It was a miniature Sekhmet, so perfectly carved it seemed the handwork of a god, not of man. Pankh had never owned such a thing, much less dropped it. Its slender chain was woven of tiny gold plackets, but the Sekhmet herself was made of a material he did not at first recognize.

He rubbed the tiny goddess between his thumb and forefinger. It was ivory.

From his palm, the little Sekhmet snarled at him. Under his heavy wig, Pankh's shaved scalp quivered.

Then he remembered he had no patience with religious superstition, and he put the necklace on. “I owe you,” he said to the policeman. “I will see that you are well paid for your prompt assistance.”

The necklace was surprisingly chilly against his skin. Nor did the heat of his body warm the slender chain. Although the chain was long and did not press up against his throat, he felt strangled by it, and he rubbed his windpipe, straining for air.

“Look there,” said the first guard softly. “What are those two doing?”

In the growing light, Pankh made out two people a hundred yards away, admiring the Pyramid. The man, dressed in the ludicrous trousers of northerners, vaulted onto the stone wall that enclosed the Pyramid, built to keep just such people from touching its sacred sides. Little boys had proved particularly annoying in this regard, scrambling over the wall and then with their bare toes trying to find cracks between the Pyramid slabs, so they could crawl upward. They fell and broke bones and their mothers sobbed.

“Tourists even at this hour,” said the second guard, shaking his head. “Amazing. And behaving badly, of course, since they're foreigners.”