Hand of Isis by Jo Graham

temples in Memphis as well, and has brought the sacred archives to safety. Over here he’s being presented to Bastet,” Iras said. “And he’s got the uraeus on his brow now, and he’s blessed by cat and snake.”
    “By cat and snake?” I said.
    “By cat and snake,” said a voice behind me. I spun round to see an elderly lady standing beside Apollodorus. At least I thought she was elderly. Her face was wrinkled, but her hair was completely black, hanging in heavy plaits around her head, each plait tied with gold wire and ending in green malachite beads. “But then I should not expect a Greek princess to understand. I imagine you have interpreters for that sort of thing,” she said in perfect Koine.
    I flinched, half in surprise and half in confusion.
    She was only a little taller than we were, but she seemed tall as the sky. “I am the Adoratrice. I understand that you seek sanctuary here.”
    I opened my mouth and then shut it. I was the fairest of the three, and had been talking to Iras. She had taken me for Cleopatra.
    Apollodorus spoke before we needed to. “Gracious Lady,” he said, “Pharaoh Ptolemy Auletes asks the Temple of Bastet for sanctuary for his daughter in this uncertain time.”
    The Adoratrice snorted, and continued in her perfect Greek: “Ptolemy Auletes is not here, and I doubt he asked any such thing. But it is just as well you ask in his name, rather than that of Queen Tryphaena, as she is dead.”
    Cleopatra gasped. Iras and I did not move.
    The Adoratrice shot Cleopatra a dirty look. “Your handmaiden is unschooled, Princess,” she said to me. “Such gulping is unseemly. Tryphaena is dead. Killed by Princess Berenice, it is said.”
    Spots of color showed on Cleopatra’s cheekbones, and though her voice was cool, it shook. “It is true I am unschooled as a handmaiden,” she said, “for I am Princess Cleopatra. Such strife between my sisters saddens me.”
    The Adoratrice transferred her gaze. Cleopatra looked less a princess at the moment, seeming younger and sallower. “It is unlikely there shall be further strife between your sisters, Princess, unless you have other sisters. Berenice has proclaimed herself Queen of Egypt, and Auletes waits in Rome for Pompeius Magnus to give him crumbs from his table. Why should you be welcome in Bubastis?”
    Apollodorus moved to speak, but Cleopatra forestalled him. “I have no faction,” she said. “And yet I may be of use to someone. Would you throw away out of hand a weapon that may prove useful, simply because you have no use for it at the moment?”
    The Adoratrice looked at her keenly. “You are a very minor playing piece.”
    “But not entirely inconsequential,” Cleopatra said, meeting her eyes.
    “I shall not conceal your presence here from the Queen,” the Adoratrice said, and I let out a breath I had not been aware I was holding.
    “My sister Berenice and I are on the best of terms,” Cleopatra said serenely.
    O UR ROOMS FACED one of the smaller courts, with windows and doors only on the courtyard side. The rooms backed up to one of the chapels along the side wall of the Sanctuary of Bastet. There was a small chamber for Cleopatra with a good couch, table, and chest, and a somewhat heavy and sprung couch in the antechamber for Iras and me. Apollodorus must sleep elsewhere with the male priests.
    One of the temple slaves brought in an armload of linens and put them on the outer couch.
    “Aren’t you going to make up the beds?” Cleopatra asked.
    The girl blinked at her. “You have slaves of your own. It’s their job to wait on you. You’ll take your meals with the Adoratrice, but anything else you need, like your tiring and laundry, is up to them. That’s what you have slaves for, isn’t it?” She gave a very scanty bow and went out.
    Iras and I looked at each other. Neither of us had made up a bed in our lives.
    I picked up a handful of bed linens, my face scarlet. “Then we’d best get started.” The largest