David nodded and silently disappeared into the darkness. Ramses went in the opposite direction, his ears attuned for any sound other than the apprentices’ murmurs and the incessant clinks of their chisels. Harun was offering harsh criticisms of their work, berating them for their slowness and lack of attention to detail. His reedy voice echoed in the vastness of the interior, as if it were a cavern.

Ramses stopped at what he felt was the optimum vantage point. He could see David across the room from him, crouched next to a broken crate. He took several deep breaths as adrenaline surged into his veins. Harun would not be able to offer significant resistance. The three apprentices were no older than twenty, and had no motivation to risk physical violence in order to protect Nefertiti and her twin sister.

His hands clenched, Ramses let out a bloodcurdling cry as he ran toward Harun. “You have insulted the Father of Curses, you wretched, sniveling dog! I, Brother of Demons, have come to seek vengeance in his name!”

“The Brother of Demons cannot be denied!” shouted David as he emerged, his face contorted into a grimace of ferocity.

Harun’s jaw dropped. After a second of hesitation, he scuttled under the table. “I meant no insult, no insult to anyone,” he screeched. “Take her!”

The apprentices darted for the front door, babbling shrilly as they pushed one another aside. The bar on the door was thrown to the floor. They continued to scuffle as they opened the door and ran for the street.

“This is too easy,” Ramses said as he picked up one of the busts.

“I concur.” David grabbed the second one. “Shall we be on our way?”

*  *  *

I was exhausted the next morning, my sleep continually interrupted by nightmares that featured an anonymous rider who bore down on me with the fury of a Valkyrie. Emerson, who had been repeatedly awakened by my outbursts, drained three cups of coffee without speaking. Fatima tiptoed out of the kitchen with our breakfast plates and mutely set them in front of us.

Nefret came into the dining room, gave me a hug, and took her place at the table. “What a horrid night,” she said. “I can think of nothing pleasant to say about Miss Smith and Mr. Dullard, both of whom are obnoxious. The episode with Absalom must have been terrifying.” She smiled wanly. “And then, Aunt Amelia, you were haunted by bad dreams all night. I could hear your utterances through the wall, and the Professor’s efforts to comfort you. I am so sorry I brought the Godwins into our milieu. Had I not been so angry at Ramses—if I had demanded an explanation from him—if I had not behaved so impulsively . . .” She wiped her eyes with a napkin. “I hope Geoffrey is suffering in the underworld, rejected by Osiris and compelled to wander among the grotesque monsters and supernatural beasts!”