Khaemwaset welcomed the discomfort of the gathering flames, his self-hate and his loathing for the gods too deep for coherent thought. The bodies hissed and crackled as the flames reached them, but still Sheritra made no move and said nothing. The only time she reacted, drawing in her breath, was when the old tendons began to tighten with the heat and, one by one, the bodies began to jerk, to sit up, to draw up their knees in a grotesque parody of life. She and he remained where they were until the fire collapsed and died, and there was nothing left but a glowing heart in which a few blackened bones had collected. Then Sheritra came up to him.
“Never forget that all this is your doing,” she said, and her eyes held neither pity nor accusation. “From now on, you will respect my isolation or I will leave this house. The choice is yours, Prince.” She did not wait for an argument. She glided away, somehow dignified, even regal with her straight back and floating white linen, and Khaemwaset watched her go. The servants had gathered in a frightened huddle at the far end of the garden, all their chores forgotten, but Khaemwaset could not face them. Not yet.
He turned towards the house, sitting brightly sunlit, and he was sure that he could hear the Nile running strongly, lapping and gurgling its joy as it sped towards the Delta. He had considered throwing the Scroll onto the fire, but he had known in his heart that such a gesture would be pointless. It would simply have reappeared, light and innocuous, in his chest. I am at last the proud owner of the Scroll of Thoth, he thought bitterly as he passed under the shade of the pillars. My boyhood dream has come true. I was cursed from the day of my birth, and I did not know it. My son is dead, my wife estranged, my daughter a prisoner of herself. What shall I do with the long years stretching ahead? How shall I fill the pitiless chasms of the reception hall, the empty, torchlit passages, the white sepulchre of my couch? What shall I think when I wake alone in the night and lie sleepless in the silence, the brooding, accusing silence? He gestured to Kasa and crossed the threshold.