The pair must have ducked out of the busier passages to keep their conversation private. But the acoustics in the chamber carried their words clearly.

“Kree has the girl calmed again,” the priest said. “At least for now. But her suspicions are likely to rise again. Especially after the nightshadow elixir sends the pharaoh back into a deathly slumber.”

“How does this change your master’s plans?” the other asked. He lifted a black glass vial in the shape of a teardrop and studied it.

“Kree is done waiting. Omens from burnt offerings foretell that this is the time to act.”

The Blood of Ka priest slipped a second vial from his robe and held it out toward the palace servant.

Refusing, the servant backed away, his black-lined eyes growing huge. “But twice the draught will kill him.”

“Precisely.” The priest nodded to the vial. “Once done, you are to place the empty bottles within Nefertiti’s bedchamber.”

This drew the other closer again. “You plan to blame the princess? To make it look like she poisoned the pharaoh?”

A nod. The priest held out the vial again. “Two draughts. Two will fall.”

This time the servant took it, tucking the two vials up a billowing sleeve. “With both gone, the throne will be open for your master.”

“As it should be. The Blood of Ka will rise to full power!”

With a flare of his robe, the priest led the way out. The door slammed behind them.

Jake and the others stood up.

Marika clenched her hands together. “What are we going to do?”

As answer, Jake headed across the room. “We’re getting out of here. If the pharaoh is killed, they’ll lock down this whole place. We can’t be caught skulking about when word spreads that the guy was poisoned.”

Marika hurried after him. “But, Jake, we can’t just let them murder Nefertiti’s father. They’re going to make it look like she did it.”

“Nefertiti got us thrown into the dungeons,” Jake said impatiently. “Why should we help her?”

Pindor answered, his voice deep and angry. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

Bach’uuk gave a sharp approving nod.

As Jake reached the door, he stared at his friends. He suspected Pindor’s sudden and uncharacteristic interest in risking his neck had more to do with Nefertiti’s painted eyes and slender figure than with doing the right thing.

Jake tried reasoning with them. “If we hope to get out of this town, we have to reach the Crooked Nail. This is not our fight.”

“So when has that ever stopped you?” Kady asked.

Clearly Jake was outnumbered. He looked to the last, and newest, member of their group for help. But the old man simply scratched his beard, studying Jake as if this were a test.

And maybe it was.

Marika touched the back of Jake’s hand. “You know how it feels to lose people you love. Will you do nothing when the same loss befalls Nefertiti? No matter her willfulness, she’s still just a girl who’s scared for her father.”