Secrets of the Nile by Paulene Turner

Author:Paulene Turner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Salty Dog Press
Published: 2023-06-24T23:25:58+00:00

We headed off early the next morning to continue searching for the time machine. We spoke to dozens of people within a wide radius of the place where we’d hidden it, but no one had seen a thing. I just didn’t see how that was possible.

“What next?” I said.

“Not sure,” said Riley. “Let me think on it.”

Major heart sink. Riley had run out of ideas. I think he was as crushed as I was, but I couldn’t talk about it right now. To put it into words would somehow make it more real.

“I have to get ready for the show tonight,” I said. “Are you coming?”

“I need to sort out a few things with the toothpaste first,” he said.

At least the pressure was off regarding the tax payment. While Riley and I were out looking for the machine, it seemed Razi had a surprise visit from the prospective buyer of the necklace. The man had studied it carefully and pronounced it more than acceptable, promising to pay the agreed price at the party tonight after he presented it to the vizier. Which meant the family’s tax problems were almost over.

“I told you he’d like it,” I said.

“The buyer must have faulty eyes to view my work as acceptable,” said Razi, smiling. “Thank the gods for his poor sight.”

Now, Sahara revealed her “surprise”. She had made dresses for all the girls in the troupe from the gold cloth she’d got at the markets. They were sleeveless, with long skirts split at the sides to allow movement. Colourful stones, donated by Razi, decorated the collars.

“Oh, mother,” said Amunet. “They are more beautiful than the stars in the sky.”

“I feel in my heart the vizier’s party will be very special,” said Sahara. “A night to remember.”

Amunet wanted to rehearse again. I told her we shouldn’t, as yesterday’s run had gone so well, but she insisted. In my experience, last-minute rehearsals were usually disastrous. And this one was no exception. We were off-key, banged into each other and tripped over our own feet. It was just pre-show jitters, I knew. But Amunet freaked big time.

“I cannot remember a single step,” she said. “I fear that last night, as I slept, a snake slithered into my brain. Now I am as graceless as a camel with boots of dried dung. We must send a messenger to the vizier, explaining we are ill and cannot attend the party.”

“No, we’re going,” I said firmly.

“But if we make a mistake? The vizier might punish us. Severely.”

“You think he’ll chop our heads off if we miss a step? Will you listen to yourself!”

“I cannot do this,” said Amunet.

“Yes, you can.”

“Stop this, Amunet,” said Sahara. “You look beautiful, you dance well. The vizier will be very happy on his birthday night. But only if you keep your promise to go to his home and entertain him. No more talk of snakes or sickness.”

We got into our gold costumes. One of the girl’s mums had brought black, shoulder-length wigs for us

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