Two of Miss Königin's wolves stand guard by my side. Reaching down to scratch the female between her shoulder blades, I notice her wet pink tongue, dripping saliva. She pants. She is hot and tired.

Ah yes, Chroma. It is hot here in Egypt, even at this hour. I'm glad to stand night watch. My days are better spent in the Frigidarium. I have yet to adapt to this heat.

In agreement, her silver-eyed mate Lupus grumbles a guttural growl, then sits in the sand. Not a minute later, his ears begin to twitch. He hears something. Something I can not.

What's the matter, boy?

I can hear it now. Thundering hooves. Dozens of them.

A lighted caravan of some thirty chariots and litters arrives. They are covered in ornament. The men; fully armoured. The women; Bedecked and bejewelled.

Lupus, go alert Culann and the others at the front gate.

The wolf quickly jumps to his four paws. In seconds, he rounds the corner, scurrying off into the darkness.

I stand at attention, eyes forward, hands at my sides, perplexed. Is not the King of Egypt already inside?