Had he really worked under this man for five years now? It seemed impossible; five years of thankless production, five years of Haddon’s endless strutting and petty despotizing. On the other hand, it had also been five years of evenings blessedly his own, five years during which his interest in Eighteenth Dynasty jewelry, avocational to begin with, had blossomed so joyously and unexpectedly. First there had been a brief, diffident note on his observations that had been published in the Journal of Egyptian Archaeology, then two papers as his confidence increased, and finally a contract with the University of Wisconsin Press to produce a comprehensive monograph, complete with his own color photographs.

That glorious day had come two years ago, and by now Personal Ornamentation from the Time of Akhenaten was well on the way to completion, the photographs almost completed, the text more than half-done. With luck and perseverance, another year would do it. He had no doubt that it would be the making of his career, that it would get him out of this parched and backward country, out from under Haddon, and into a respectable academic post in the United States. Someplace civilized, with soft, moist summers and a little snow in the winter; someplace with clouds. Virginia or Maryland sounded nice.

But how unfortunate this news of a schedule change was. Arlo had been hearing rumors about some jewelry of interest in the storage cabinets at the el-Amarna Museum, and he had hoped to use the visit as a way of examining it for himself, but now “-for which I am relying on you, Arlo,” Haddon said out of the blue.

Arlo straightened up, scrambling for something to say. For all Haddon’s shabby faults, the older man still had the ability to tie his tongue in knots.