Two Eyes Cenote what you expect from me when you're disrespectin' me?

Even in a rasp of foreign speech she can perceive his coldness. His eyes remain strangely void. She should be glad to see his retreat, but she is merely disgusted.

When he is gone she glances up, looking into the sure-burning diligence of Legend and Machiavelli.

“Thank you both for coming so quickly,” she frees a breath, bowing gratefully, and only then does her upper lip quiver. Eset does not want to imagine what could have happened in their palace if they had not defended it. The corridor stands silent and empty but the air is heavy with the intruder’s odor. She studies the stone crevice now hatched in claw-marks.

“Legend, would you please scout the perimeter and make sure he is truly gone?” Eset asks of her friend. "Please also notify Akashingo of the break-in, but only Senmut." The erpa-ha would then decide if he needed to tell Toula of the incident. She did not want to needlessly cast clouds of worry over the early days of her young pharaoh's ascendancy.

It was to the fellahin she turned then, “Machiavelli, there may be silt around the main room we can use to patch this rift.”

In a store the hebsut finds a dried palm fiber and douses it in the clean waters of the reservoir. She returns to the soiled stele and begins to scrub.

But in patches of darkness, behind corners, she imagines assassins hiding.