So at least Gideon could say he had contributed a little to the knowledge of the el-Fuqani population by coming up with an age estimate, however approximate. He added a little more: the bones were dainty and slight-“gracile” was the anthropological term-indicating that 4360 had been a man of modest muscularity. And Lambert had been right about the “tall.” Gideon guessed he’d been about five foot eight, which was big for an ancient Egyptian. He might have confirmed the height by taking some measurements of the long bones and applying a formula, but what did it matter?

Now he lifted the skull again. Rodents had gnawed through the zygomatics on both sides, two teeth had come out at least a year before death, and two any time in the four-thousand-plus years since. Beyond that, there wasn’t much to say about it. He turned it gently in his hands. “How long did you say it’s been lying out there?”

“Nobody knows,” Jerry said. “Anytime up to five years. Or it could have been just since last week, for all we know.”

Gideon shook his head. “No, two or three years, anyway.” He picked at a chalky fleck on the curvature of the frontal bone, just above the faded, old-fashioned F4360. “This scaly stuff all over the crown. That’s spalling, exfoliation. It comes from weathering, and it doesn’t happen in a week. Neither does this dappling here, these lighter areas. That’s sun-bleaching.”

“But how do you know that didn’t happen before?” Jerry asked. “Like during the Fifth Dynasty.”

Tiffany laughed. “Jerry, how would his bones have gotten sun-bleached before he went into the ground?”

Jerry weighed this, then pointed his unlit pipe soberly at TJ. “Good point, Dr. B.”

Gideon went slowly over the pelvic bones with his hands and eyes, not really looking for, or expecting to find, anything notable.