interpretation. Something about the translation just hadn’t rung true or sounded right. Either way, it was crucial to his own search. If the original was correct―and he’d factored that in, considering the eminence of the source―then the possible location of the tombs shifted north by a number of miles, turning more west than he thought it should. Raissa had interpreted it differently.
As there was both a good clear picture of the tablet and the translation available on the internet through his satellite connection, it would be an interesting exercise, especially since she could zoom in on some of the characters.
“Raissa,” he said, “could you come here please?”
Unfolding herself from the chair, an interesting exercise for his heart rate, she came to join him.
Without appearing to, he breathed in the soft scent of her, sweet, faintly spicy.
“Take a look at this,” he said.
She leaned closer and her hair swung forward to brush his arm before she gathered it in her hand and drew it over the other shoulder to expose the slender curve of her throat. For only a second, her blue eyes met his…
Raissa forced her gaze from his gold-tinted deep brown eyes to the computer screen, taking a slow deep breath.
Every time she was this close to him her breath came short.
Swallowing against the tightness in her throat, she studied the text.
It was actually an intriguing challenge and there were a few places where she would have quarreled with the previous translator.
Ky noted her frown as she reread a passage.
“What is it?” he asked.
Looking at him, she asked, “Why does he prefer the masculine to the feminine?”
“That’s what she said,” Ryan quipped from his desk, where he was piecing together a lovely little clay lamp they’d recovered from the ruins.
With a laugh, Raissa shook her head at him.
Ky gave him a quelling look, smothering a laugh.
“Why?” Ky asked Raissa. “Does it matter?”
“It depends on which you prefer,” Ryan explained patiently, grinning.
Chuckling, Ky said, “I was talking to Raissa.”
“Her, too,” Ryan said, still grinning.
This time it was Raissa who gave Ryan a look, rolling her eyes.
He just grinned, unrepentant, looking like a slightly demented and oversized elf with his round face, dimples and incongruous knitted hat.
“May I?” Raissa asked, indicating the chair.
Nodding, Ky vacated it, switching places with her.
Leaning a hand on the back of the chair and another on the table, Ky angled over her to look at the portion of the text she was translating.
He could smell the scent of her hair and that scent, sweet and slightly spicy, from her skin. It did wonders for his heart rate but nothing for his concentration. Not to mention the view, looking down at her now he had a clear view of the tops of her breasts beneath the t-shirt she’d worn beneath the abaya.
“Perhaps,” she said, looking up at him.
Her breath seemed to catch a little to find him standing there so close but she didn’t move away.
It took a second for him to realize what she was talking about.
“The ancient Egyptians didn’t differentiate, they were very egalitarian but that bias shows in him,” she said, quietly. “I would read it slightly differently here and here, giving equal weight to the accounts given, something he didn’t, assuming the priestess’s account to be less important than that of the priest.”
It was a short transcript of the burial of a priest of Osiris, just a piece of text that might have been a story but the slight difference in accounts moved the possible location of the beginning of the journey to the tomb, one that hinted they’d used a corner of the fort as one reference, the other the entry.
“If the fort was the starting point, it could make a great deal of difference,” Ky said, excitement rising.
“The landmarks will have changed a great deal in the time since this was written,” Raissa cautioned. “Three thousand years is a long
As there was both a good clear picture of the tablet and the translation available on the internet through his satellite connection, it would be an interesting exercise, especially since she could zoom in on some of the characters.
“Raissa,” he said, “could you come here please?”
Unfolding herself from the chair, an interesting exercise for his heart rate, she came to join him.
Without appearing to, he breathed in the soft scent of her, sweet, faintly spicy.
“Take a look at this,” he said.
She leaned closer and her hair swung forward to brush his arm before she gathered it in her hand and drew it over the other shoulder to expose the slender curve of her throat. For only a second, her blue eyes met his…
Raissa forced her gaze from his gold-tinted deep brown eyes to the computer screen, taking a slow deep breath.
Every time she was this close to him her breath came short.
Swallowing against the tightness in her throat, she studied the text.
It was actually an intriguing challenge and there were a few places where she would have quarreled with the previous translator.
Ky noted her frown as she reread a passage.
“What is it?” he asked.
Looking at him, she asked, “Why does he prefer the masculine to the feminine?”
“That’s what she said,” Ryan quipped from his desk, where he was piecing together a lovely little clay lamp they’d recovered from the ruins.
With a laugh, Raissa shook her head at him.
Ky gave him a quelling look, smothering a laugh.
“Why?” Ky asked Raissa. “Does it matter?”
“It depends on which you prefer,” Ryan explained patiently, grinning.
Chuckling, Ky said, “I was talking to Raissa.”
“Her, too,” Ryan said, still grinning.
This time it was Raissa who gave Ryan a look, rolling her eyes.
He just grinned, unrepentant, looking like a slightly demented and oversized elf with his round face, dimples and incongruous knitted hat.
“May I?” Raissa asked, indicating the chair.
Nodding, Ky vacated it, switching places with her.
Leaning a hand on the back of the chair and another on the table, Ky angled over her to look at the portion of the text she was translating.
He could smell the scent of her hair and that scent, sweet and slightly spicy, from her skin. It did wonders for his heart rate but nothing for his concentration. Not to mention the view, looking down at her now he had a clear view of the tops of her breasts beneath the t-shirt she’d worn beneath the abaya.
“Perhaps,” she said, looking up at him.
Her breath seemed to catch a little to find him standing there so close but she didn’t move away.
It took a second for him to realize what she was talking about.
“The ancient Egyptians didn’t differentiate, they were very egalitarian but that bias shows in him,” she said, quietly. “I would read it slightly differently here and here, giving equal weight to the accounts given, something he didn’t, assuming the priestess’s account to be less important than that of the priest.”
It was a short transcript of the burial of a priest of Osiris, just a piece of text that might have been a story but the slight difference in accounts moved the possible location of the beginning of the journey to the tomb, one that hinted they’d used a corner of the fort as one reference, the other the entry.
“If the fort was the starting point, it could make a great deal of difference,” Ky said, excitement rising.
“The landmarks will have changed a great deal in the time since this was written,” Raissa cautioned. “Three thousand years is a long
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