"Be unwearied, unceasing, alive you and your own true love"

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The night air was heavy with scent, the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine mixing with the smoke of the courtyard torches and the tang of the Great River from beyond the palace walls. The two old ones sat together on the carved garden bench, at a distance from the roof's pavilion to afford the illusion of privacy, yet near enough so that either might hear a command from their charges. Dips and curves had been carved into the wood to provide perfect support for aging bones, and the wine washed away any lingering aches, as did the tales they spun from their youth.

"The larks are in full throat, it would seem, Mandisa. They've sung their song at least three times this night." Isaia's eyes twinkled in the torchlight.

"So you say, Isaia, but the roar of your new master drowns out her song as do the bulls in the field overtake the songbird's hymn."

"He's a powerful figure, indeed. And you say he's not of noble birth? His carriage and demeanor say otherwise, save for the lack of an overweening love of self."

The old nurse batted at his shoulder. "Mind your words, lest they be taken for criticism of the men of Pharaoh's dynasty."

He shrugged. "I mean no disrespect to my former master, Pharaoh's honored father, may his ka rest easy."

Mandisa pulled her shawl snuggly around her shoulders. "And you would not speak of his son, or his grandson?"

"I would not, nor of any other unpleasant subject, dear Mandisa." He patted her gnarled hand, resting on the bench between them. "I would speak of the seasons in front of the two above us, and of the hopes they will be filled with as much joy as they are tonight."

A trill of laughter came from the rooftop, high and musical, followed by a deeper voice and a loud splash. Giggles and chuckles drifted down, growing softer as the seconds passed.

"I tell you this, Isaia…hearing my lady this night eases my mind as I look towards the land of the dead."

The old man frowned. "Have you reason to think on your journey, dear one? I see no affliction greater than one expects in our years."

Mandisa looked around the dark courtyard, glancing up at the roofline on the other side of the palace. She lowered her voice to a quiet whisper. "I am well enough, my only affliction being that of serving the Lady while her enemies plot against her. "

"Have a care, then, old friend," he said. "Such afflictions have proved mortal before, and will again, as that is the way of our world."

She sighed heavily. "It's the worry that stabs the deepest. I thank the gods that she has Senenmut at her side throughout her days. Thinking on him being at her side through her nights brings me an ease I've not known in years."

Snatches of conversation filtered down from the rooftop, the words indistinct but the tone soothing and languid, punctuated by light laughter here and there.

The old man lowered his voice as well. "They seem well-suited to each other. I've not seen lovers mix passion and respect so well since her father and the lady Sitamun were alive, and enjoying his time away from royal duties."

"It's a hard world, Isaia, that they can love but cannot marry for politics' sake. In another time, another life, they would have been a formidable foundation of a new dynasty."

A rough, uncultured voice came from the shadows as a figure stepped out from a columned archway. "Do you mean, old woman, to express dissatisfaction with the current dynasty? Would you push the rightful occupant of the throne even further away?"

Mandisa's heart thudded in her chest even as she recognized the dark form approaching them.

"Nuru, wicked boy! What treasonous words are these?" She made room on the bench and motioned for him to sit. A wave of sour beer assaulted her nostrils. "By the gods, you reek of barley beer. What have you been up to?"

Nuru pulled a beer-soaked rag from underneath his snug-fitting copper collar and dropped it to the ground. "Men let their tongues wag more freely if they think their listener is in his cups, and they take what they hear as the truth that comes with drink." His voice had returned to its usual courtly tone.

The old butler leaned forward. "You've been at the tavern in town, I'm thinking. What do you hear, young one?"

"Senenmut's name is on every tongue, of course, as the local priests and politicians could recite the recorded deed by heart already, and know his holdings better than he does himself."

"Such has always been the habit of self-serving men. It's known that he's in residence, then?" Mandisa asked.

"It is. There is much speculation as to his companion, though. I let it slip that he is so favored by Pharaoh that she allows him to borrow the royal yacht as he likes." She could see her grandson's grin in the moonlight. "I dropped a hint or two that he seeks to win the heart of a wealthy noblewoman. As I left, I heard a satisfying amount of confusion as to who his guest might be."

"To what purpose, Nuru?" The old woman's brow furrowed. "Many know that it is Hatshepsut who accompanies him."

"But many do not, grandmother. And you know I never pass up a chance at misdirection in these matters when it presents itself," Nuru rejoined. "But that's not the main import of the evening's gleanings. One of the mayor's household was there, and agreeable to having cups of beer bought for him."

Isaia snorted. "I know the fool you mean, I believe. The mayor trusts him overmuch."

Nuru rose and crossed the tiles to fetch wine and three cups from the serving table. Mandisa maintained her patience, smiling as she felt her old friend quivering with curiosity beside her. Nuru's casual attitude told her there was no immediate worry looming, no danger this night, however serious his information might be.

He returned with half-full cups of date wine and sat again.

"The mayor's man gave me reason to think that the public granaries are only half the measure they should be, his master funneling off a handsome portion of grain tax to his own estate's granaries."

Her old friend's sudden intake of breath told her his mind went to the same place as hers. Stealing grain paid as taxes by the local citizens was tantamount to stealing from Pharaoh herself.

"The mayor courts hanging, then," she murmured.

"At the least. What will worry Pharaoh more, I fear, is that the tally of the public granaries cannot be trusted in this town…and if there is no faith in the accounting of one granary, what faith will there be in the next, and the next after that?" He took a deep drink of wine, wiping his mouth as he finished.

"By the feather of Ma'at, Nuru...you mean to cast doubt on Pharaoh's ability to feed her people in times of need?" Her stomach clenched as she remembered her charge's tutor reading from The Admonitions of Ipuwer. The descriptions of thousands dying from drought and starvation, the riots and destruction of the royal family, had haunted Hatshepsut's dreams for weeks, no matter how many times Mandisa assured her that those evil days were centuries in the past.

"I would not be so bold as to doubt Pharaoh's ability in any field, grandmother. But many a necessary rumor is passed between servant and mistress in the quiet hours before taking the night's rest or beginning the day's duties." Nuru drained his cup.

"And if such a servant were to whisper a solution, perhaps that the Great Steward take on an accounting of the kingdom's stores against the taxmen's reports…would that not take the sting out of the rumor?" he continued.

"You have become quite the taskmaster, grandson."

He put a gentle arm around her. "Egypt is the taskmaster of us all, grandmother. Is that not what you have taught me since my birth? Is that not what you have taught, in your own way, to the Lady of the Two Lands, since she nursed at your breast?"

She felt Isaia's hand cover her own. "The boy speaks the truth, old friend. Such was also the lesson her father taught her when she was still a child, scampering up trees and teasing me for another candied sweet."

"I know where my duty lies well enough." She glanced up at the rooftop where the subjects of their hushed conversation seemed to rest in sated slumber. "We will give them these couple of days, untroubled by such matters as they discover the joys of one another."

She sighed again. She had always hated reporting treachery to Hatshepsut, seeing her eyes turn cold and stony as she began planning her answer to yet another threat.

"The morning we depart for the capitol, I think. It will give them a few hours' time to consider what to do without interruption. I will tell her, begging her forgiveness for not speaking sooner."

"I will do the same as I ready Senenmut that morning," Nuru said, giving her shoulder a light squeeze.

"For my part, I will prepare an accounting of the estate's granaries and stores, and identify the most trustworthy local scribes to assist Count Senenmut in his tasks," Isaia offered.

"I will take my leave then, old ones, and seek my pallet." Nuru looked up at the fluttering awning on the rooftop above them. "It seems our master and mistress sleep under the stars tonight, snug in their pavilion. Thanks be to Isis that they have been given each other, and this time together."

He quietly made his way around the flower beds and fountain, disappearing into the darkness of the sleeping chamber's wing.

"I'm sorry we've brought unfortunate news to your household, Isaia." Mandisa rested her head on the butler's thin shoulder.

"No worries, dear one. I confess the taste of political intrigue brings to mind my younger days. It is a welcome thing, to feel useful again to the throne." He dropped a kiss onto her brow.

"Isaia…I would ask a favor of you, to honor those younger days you speak of." She suddenly felt as shy as she had all those years ago, when she had first seen the handsome butler from under her lowered lashes.

"I pray the favor you speak of is to share my couch with you once again." His dark brown eyes were as warm and kind as they had ever been.

"Your thoughts travel with mine, then." She smiled, the network of wrinkles on her cheeks creasing.

The old man stood and extended his hand. A trick of the moonlight erased the liver spots and prominent veins, and it was the hand he'd extended so long ago, on the night he planted the seed that would give her Nuru's mother.

"Mandisa, I can only give you the memory of past love, I fear, but it's yours if you would take it."

She slowly got to her feet, swaying against him for a moment in the lotus-scented night air.

"Dear Isaia, I can think of nothing I would enjoy more, to dream beside you this night while knowing my lady is creating fresh dreams of her own."

The old lovers walked together to the sleeping quarters, ready to whisper memories of bygone days as they drifted into slumber.

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"Ra begins his journey, my love."

Senenmut stroked Hatshepsut's cheek as the sky began to lighten in the east. He watched as her lips curved up in a sleepy smile, eyes closed against the dawning day. She moved closer against his chest and tugged his arm tighter around her shoulder.

"And what if I don't wish to return to my duties, Count Senenmut? Another day, I think, lying abed with you, sounds much more to my tastes than returning to court and taking up my yoke again. My work has done without me for two days…surely it can manage for one more."

"Lazy wench," he growled as he nipped at her ear lobe. "Off your couch and hew to your tasks, or I'll dock you a week's pay and feed you naught but stale bread and brackish water." He punctuated his threats with tickles along her ribs until she rolled away from him, breathless with giggling.

"Enough! Yes, taskmaster! I hear and obey," she said, cupping his cheek in her hand. He turned his head to kiss her palm, delighting in the playfulness in her voice.

"I would stay here for another week, another month, if it were up to me, Lady."

"But it's not, is it? Nor up to me." Her voice turned solemn. "Egypt plans our days. I am grateful she gave us this respite, and I shouldn't be greedy for more."

"We still have the day, La'ra. A leisurely breakfast, another stroll through the estate garden, perhaps, before we set sail. And maybe a quick…rest, beneath the pavilion, while the servants pack our travel trunks?" he added hopefully, his dark blue eyes twinkling.

"Hmm…" she hummed, stretching like a temple cat in the sun. "You paint a lovely picture of easing back into our duties."

He was leaning in to kiss her when he heard the scrape of leather sandals on the steps, then a discreet cough. Sighing, he pulled the linen sheet up over his beloved's dove-soft breasts. "Our true taskmasters come," he whispered.

Hatshepsut rose on her elbow. "You may approach," she called.

Nuru came into view as he climbed the stone steps, a heavy brass tray balanced on one hand, a pitcher in the other.

"I bring a light start to the day, Lady, some fresh melon and minted water to awaken you while the cook prepares breakfast." He set the tray down on a folding stand by the couch, laying out thick napkins next to the plates holding red, orange and green slices of different types of melon, arranged like the spokes of a wheel. He poured the cold water, flavored with sprigs of mint, into a pair of carved goblets.

"Count Senenmut, I have hot water and a sharpened blade ready for your beard, and Your Majesty, your maidservant awaits to comb and dress your hair, at your convenience."

Senenmut cocked an eyebrow at his lover. "Do you get the feeling, Lady, that we are being herded as firmly as a couple of errant sheep?"

Nuru's face was impassive save for a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Our shepherds at times have a greater sense of duty that do we, my love." She sighed. "That is probably for the best.

"Hand me my robe, Nuru, and we will begin our day."

"Your robe, my lady?" He glanced at the end of the couch, then the empty folding chair nearby.

She blushed as it became clear she couldn't recall where it had fallen the evening before. Finally, the expressionless servant found the garment crumpled on the far side of the bathing pool. Shaking out the wrinkles, he brought it to their bedside and held it out, eyes averted as she rose and slipped her arms into the waiting sleeves.

"We'll be down shortly, Nuru. Let the kitchen know," Senenmut said. He would have been content to gaze at the graceful outline of Hatshepsut's body against the lightening blue sky until it was long past morning, but the tasks of the day began clamoring for his attention.

"My lord, a word, as soon as is practical?" Nuru looked uneasy, a sight that sounded a faint alarm in Senenmut's head. He stood and allowed his servant to wrap his dressing-kilt around his waist.

"Is there a problem, Nuru?"

The servant glanced at Hatshepsut, seated on the other side of the sleeping couch and beginning to nibble at a slice of melon.

"A matter for Senenmut, the estate owner to hear, and to decide on a course of action for Senenmut, Steward to God's Wife, to take," he murmured.

"Is there some risk to Pharaoh?" Senenmut's hand was hard on the younger man's wrist.

"No direct risk, my lord, and her maidservant would be grateful for her charge having a peaceful breakfast before she disrupts the Lady's peace with the same unwelcome news."

Senenmut sighed heavily. He would honor the old woman's wishes to give his love another carefree hour before the burden of statecraft fell on her shoulders once more.
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The plates of egg and flaked fish had been cleared away as soon as the final bite had been eaten The last grape was still sweet on Hatshepsut's tongue when Mandisa approached the table to beckon her to the dressing table.

"The winter palace servants feel they've been on holiday, my lady. They've barely had to turn their hands during your stay." The old woman began working a wooden comb through the tangles in Hatshepsut's hair.

"Count Senenmut has been diligent in seeing to my needs, and I to his, Old Mother," she teased.

"Ah, yes, my lady, so I am aware, and it gladdens my heart. You must make time to be together thus as often as you can." She paused to work out a stubborn knot.

Hatshepsut's brow furrowed. "I'm no shopkeeper, Mandisa, free to close my doors at a whim. I'll have three days' worth of work waiting for me at court for every day I enjoyed my leisure here. You know this as well as I."

The old woman picked up fine embroidery thread, colored scarlet and gold, and began weaving them into narrow braids of dark hair. "I know that life is short, and it flies by faster than we realize, my lady." She was silent for a while, giving Hatshepsut time to consider her words.

Finally, she spoke again. "You came quickly to love your architect's mind and heart, it seems, as I saw your feelings bloom within days of meeting him."

"I'll not argue, Old Mother. Your words are true, as I felt I knew him…loved him, far sooner than I would have thought possible." She watched her old nurse work in the polished brass mirror, realizing she already wished he was near her again.

"And now your body and your senses inform your decision. I've never known you to be so happy with a man's lovemaking as you seem to be with his."

Hatshepsut's jaw tightened. "I would not call my previous beddings 'love-making.' They were exercises that served their purpose, in one fashion or another."

"He is that skilled, then, to surpass all others?" The servant's tone had turned light.

"It's not the skill of practice," Hatshepsut said thoughtfully. "Rather skill born of natural talent and attention, his senses focused on the slightest detail, the smallest signs."

Mandisa worked her fingers through the long hair, arranging row after row of colorful braids in a neat fall.

"I would expect as much, Lady. His life has been one of careful maneuvering of powerful forces, his hands guiding that which could kill dozens if he is careless or hurried, his eyes seeking tiny fault lines that could shatter a wall if ignored."

She moved in front of her charge and met Hatshepsut's jade-green eyes. "And he loves you beyond reason, which is the greatest guide of all."

"All that you say is true, and more, Old One. There are things we cannot do, for the sake of politics…but I intend to have him at my side, the two of us standing together."

She took her old nurse's hands. "Pray to the Gods that we may have this, Old Mother. That we will have years of this. There is a constant nagging sorrow in my heart that we will have too little time, as you say, and it makes me anxious for our future."

"With my dying breath, my beloved La'ra, I will pray thus, and all the days until then." She squeezed Hatshepsut's hands with surprising strength.

"Now, my lady, we must talk of rumors and suspicions, and set love aside for a while."

And so it starts, Hatshepsut thought, as Mandisa tied off the last braid and began an account of Nuru's findings.

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*******************

The sail back to the city was long and drowsy, as if the Nile itself wanted to delay their return to the work that waited for them. The royal scribe had been sent to the front of the ship with rolls of newly inked scrolls describing new accounting policies and court monitoring of municipal stores. The last carefully printed decree appointed Senenmut to the position of Overseer of the Treasury, Granary, Fields, and Cattle of Amun.

Hatshepsut reclined on the chaise lounge under the awning that shaded them from the sun and the eyes of others, resting her head on Senenmut's broad shoulder. Watching the grey-green ripples of the ship's wake was lulling her to sleep. Every bone in her body felt like softened wax, supple and pliant. The black wings of her kohl-darkened brows drew together as she counted off the hours until she would have to be rigid, controlled Pharaoh again. Perhaps three or four more, and then their holiday would be truly over.

She watched Senenmut's bare chest rise and fall below his broad collar. He had started to softly snore, a pile of reference scrolls Isaia had produced from the palace library on the deck beside him.

She smiled ruefully. She had hoped they would have taken their leisure in the library, choosing epic love poems and writings on the erotic arts. Instead, he had asked for as many years' worth of tallies and accounts of state holdings as the old butler could find. His new title had not yet received the royal seal, but her steward had already taken up the tasks of the office.

Tongues would wag viciously upon their return, she knew. She could hear the salacious gossip already…speculations on what sorcery the common-born favorite had employed to bind Pharaoh even tighter, to bewitch her into giving him even more power.

And Thutmose's followers would doubtless pour poisoned gossip into the ears of anyone who would listen, that Hatshepsut was tossing prudent judgment aside for the sake of her heart. Such had been his followers' song since she began keeping Senenmut more and more at her side. Once the economic concerns were fully addressed, she would have to turn her attention back to the political arena and the followers of the young prince, the ones who called her "Regent" and "Pharaoh" in public, and whispered "Hatshepsut the Usurper" behind closed doors.

She ran her fingers over Senenmut's craggy cheek, wishing again that they could slip away from their burdens for good, and spend their days discovering new delights in each other. His eyes slowly opened and the easy, sweet smile she loved spread over his face.

"So serious, beloved? Take the scribe's cue and rest from statecraft for a while. It will be waiting for you to take up again soon enough."

"These few days have spoiled me, Steward. I imagine us in another life past this one, where we have responsibility only to each other, and the people take care of their own problems."

He kissed the furrow between her brows. "There is no such place, that would tempt you to become uncaring about your people, Lady."

She shifted in his arms. "Perhaps when we're both in the land of the dead, we can think only of each other and let the world take care of itself."

His sparkling blue eyes lost their light and became flat. "Do not speak so casually of that time, La'ra. I get the sense, sometimes, of what it would feel like, to remain in the land of the living while you journey before me. It is a bleak and empty feeling, and I'd not see that come to pass for many seasons."

"Nor I," she reassured him, as she wiggled down to rest her head on his chest. "Still, when the time comes, I know it will take some of the sting out, to know we'll be together…and free."

Her voice softened as her breathing came into sync with his, and they drifted into a light slumber, lulled by the diffused light and the gentle rocking of the waves against the ship's teak hull.

"Were you ready to come back?" The pale lavender ka shimmered in the air.

"I could've stayed longer, but I think some of…us, our feelings, were bleeding through." The gray ka pulsed with a slow, steady rhythm.

"His fears of her dying first?"

"Yeah. Going through that once was enough. Still hurts to think about losing you."

The diaphanous shapes swirled together. "Bill, it's reality…people die. We did…and they will, too."

The gray form pulled away from the lavender. "It would have been nice for their time together to last a little longer, that's all."

Laura's hum hadn't changed a bit. "It was wonderful while it lasted, though, wasn't it? To be so physical and healthy…it was almost addictive, all those feelings."

The forms merged at the edges.

"It was great," Bill agreed. "On one level, he was seeing her, and on another level, I was seeing you, clear as when we were alive. It was…"

"It was better than when we were on the Shore?" she said quietly.

The shape contracted, then expanded again. "Towards the last, yeah."

"So, you're still good with all this?" Her edges reached out to his.

"I'm not complaining, Laura. I love being with you like that. Having the chance to do things I'd only thought about back then, that we never had time to do, before—"

The shapes pressed together. "But now we have. And we can do it whenever we like."

"I missed this, though. Missed you being Laura Roslin. I missed being me."

""I missed you, too, Bill. I'm ready to just be us again. And they need time to be themselves, without any secret passengers."

"And it sounds like things are going to be…not a lot of fun for a while," he noted.

Laura's ka shimmered in time to what her giggles would have sounded like if she were corporeal. "Oh, are we boring you, Admiral?"

"One lifetime of politics wasn't enough for you?" he countered.

"Oh, Gods, it certainly was. Good thing she was born to it. That makes it a little easier."

The forms looked down on the two lovers sleeping below them, Senenmut curling a protective arm around Hatshepsut as she covered his hand with hers.

"She's giving him enough power so he can be a real partner to her," Bill observed. "That should lighten her load some."

"And she's ready to trust his advice on military and political matters, I think."

"So, are you ready to explore the rest of Earth?"

Pinks and reds flowed together within her lavender ka.

"For a while. We'll come back, though, right?"

The grey form flashed with blue sparks. "Next time they have some quality time together, we'll come back."

"You think we'll know when that happens?"

The two forms merged into a silvery violet mist.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we'll feel it when the time comes."

"Lead the way, Admiral."

"After you, Madam President."

The lovers on the water slept on, as the shimmery lights winked out of sight.