We did not drink wine, but "beer." It is a wine made from barley. I cannot imagine how a juice can be pressed from barley, but that is what Myt-ser'eu says and Muslak confirms. Chaff floats upon it, there is a taint of leaven. It is warm with cardamom and too heavy and sweet for my taste, but I drank two bowls because everyone else drank. Sucking up the beer through a tube of thin clay leaves the chaff on the bottom when the bowl is empty. When the evening was over, we played a game in which we broke our clay tubes. He who holds the longest piece wins.

At last the young women tired and the young men danced. It was an easy dance, so I joined it. I was not the best dancer and the rest laughed at my errors, laughter without malice that even a child could bear. I will dance better next time. The flute-players and drummers did not join our dance. All the women sang, most clapped, and Myt-ser'eu played her lute. When everyone was tired we drank more beer and washed in the river. She wears an amulet that protects her from crocodiles.

In what I read today I wondered about the sails I saw on roofs. This inn has such sails, and Myt-ser'eu explained them. There are holes in the roof below for both. One is open on the north-facing side and catches the north wind, directing it into the inn. The other lets the wind stream out again. The first is like the mouthpiece of a flute, the other like the little holes a player fingers. Our inn is the flute. When the wind blows well, as it does tonight, the rooms inside are cool and there are few mosquitoes because the doors and windows are shut. Myt-ser'eu says her people are the wisest in the world. I do not know that, but they are surely very clever.

I was a soldier in a city called Sidon. That is plain from what I read. I wish to go there and speak with those who may remember me. Muslak says that when we leave Kemet we will sail to his own city of Byblos, and that it is near Sidon. It will be easy, he says, for me to reach Sidon from there.