Go to the ears. That should be easier. They had to be generic. She had no idea whether they stuck out or had longer lobes. Just let it flow and do what seemed right.
Anger.
I don’t care. I’m doing this.
She could no longer even attempt to block him out, but she could keep to the flow and work through that anger and do what she had to do.
Smooth.
Mold.
Fill in.
Hatred.
Work faster. Go to the mouth.
Generic again. She knew the width but not the shape. Better to make the lips closed and without expression. Because the only expression she’d be able to put would be anger and hatred.
Concentrate.
Her fingers were flying now, hot and facile on the clay.
She could do this.
Lips done.
She was moving too fast.
Check the measurements. They were still important.
Nose width, 31 mm. Correct
Nose projection, 18 mm. Okay.
Now concentrate and do the job.
Anger.
Go away!
More shaping to the nostrils.
Mold.
Smooth.
Creasing on either side of the nose.
Good.
Smooth.
Mold.
Fill in.
It was better now. She could still feel the darkness dragging at her like a huge lodestone, but it was only exhausting, not frightening.
She was working feverishly.
Start the creases beneath the orbital cavities.
Fill in.
Mold.
Smooth…
* * *
Asarti
“Great Beloved Wife?” Joe repeated as he followed Gideon down the hall toward Dobran’s suite. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Trouble.” He glanced over his shoulder at the statue Joe was still carrying. “And very revealing. Plus as dangerous as a flesh-eating parasite for Dobran to possess. That’s why we’ve got to get out of here ASAP. There’s no way that Zahra would let that statue out of her hands if she hadn’t intended to get it back. She probably has her own version of a SWAT team watching the house, ready to take Dobran out.”
“Zahra Kiyani?” Joe said. “You’re saying she hired Dobran. Why would she want to fake Varak’s death? He worked for the Botzans, her enemy. She had every reason to want him dead. He almost destroyed her country.”
“You’ll have to ask Dobran. All I know for sure is that she almost certainly did the hiring.”
“Because of the statue.” Joe looked down at the statue. “It belonged to her? You’ve seen it before?”
“No, but it’s a statue of Kiya, one of Akhenaten’s queens during his reign in the Eighteenth Dynasty. On every artifact bearing her name, it was followed or preceded by The Great Beloved Wife. That’s what’s engraved on that statue you’re holding. Zahra has always had an obsession about her. Kiya, Zahra’s ancestor who founded the Kiyanis, was named for Akhenaten’s wife by her mother, Cleopatra. Even in Kiya’s journal, she mentioned that the reason that Cleopatra gave her the same name was because of the stories, passed down through the centuries, of how Queen Kiya was so loved by Akhenaten. Didn’t Eve mention any of this to you?”
“Probably. It’s vaguely familiar. But I guarantee I wasn’t paying much attention to any tall tales about Cleopatra. I had other things to think about. As I do right now.” He added grimly, “And there could have been other people who had access to a statue of Akhenaten’s queen.”
“But maybe not one sculpted between 50 and 30 B.C., when Cleopatra and her daughter were alive. That’s unusual in itself when Akhenaten and his wives died back in the Eighteenth Dynasty.” He slowed and gestured ahead. “Dobran’s suite is the second door on the left. Let’s see if he can give us a few answers, provided he can focus through his usual haze. Though it might not be possible. Either way, we have to get out of here. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Joe moved quickly down the hall and unlocked the door.
The heavy scent of opium.
A man dressed in loose trousers and an open white shirt was lying sprawled on the couch with an opium pipe in his lips. He appeared to be asleep.
Shit.
“Not much chance of getting answers,” Gideon said. “Still want to try?”
“Hell, yes,” Joe said. “I don’t like the alternative of having to take him with us and get answers later.”
“You didn’t mention that alternative,” Gideon said. “I don’t like it either.”
“Hold this.” Joe thrust the statue at Gideon. Then he was across the room and yanking the pipe out of Dobran’s mouth.
No response.
He shook him. “Wake up, Dobran.”
Dobran opened his eyes. “Go away.” His voice was slurred. “You have no…right to be here. Son of a bitch…I’ll have you…castrated.”
“Oh, now that does make me mad. Wake up.” Joe slapped him. No response. Once again. “Keep your