The US Cavalry charge had been broken and the Indians were steadily driving them back. Hawk found himself in the middle of it, but strangely untouched by the action. Flying high above was a falcon, circling around, as if he was watching the battle. Suddenly a cavalry soldier came riding up upon him. Hawk reached for his gun, but realized it was empty. He looked around for his lance, but it was lying some distance away. In desperation, he pointing his finger at the trooper and yelled, “Stop!” The soldier fell dead off the horse.

“You remember how this went, Chetanzi.” Hawk turned around and saw Tatanka Iyotake, Sitting Bull, himself, walking up to him. His war paint was different, the markings around his eyes reminded Hawk of a falcon. Sitting Bull was dressed like an Egyptian, not a Lakota.

“You ain't Tatanka Iyotake, are you, Tunkashila?”

“This form is familiar to you,” Not-Sitting Bull said. At that, the falcon swooped out of the air and alighted on his shoulder.

“Are you the god Horus?”

“I am,” he replied.

“And why you appear to me, Tunkashila?”

Horus looked down at the dead soldier, tapping him with his foot. “Your hika is powerful, to do this.” He looked back at Hawk. “After this battle you danced.”

Hawk looked down at his chest, feeling the Sun Dance scars under his shirt. “I asked someone to help me control this power.”

“And Murat has led you here, to me,” the god said. Hawk looked up at him, just in time to see him change into a falcon and fly off.

***

“What do I do now, Tunkashila?” Hawk said, reaching out, but he only saw the room at Nomarch Busiri’s manor in the early morning sun. “Back in Egypt,” he said to himself. He had a vision from one of the Egyptian gods, yet found himself with more questions than before. He rolled out of bed and dressed before picking up his tomahawk pipe and the bag of tobacco. Hawk navigated the corridors until he came to the lotus pond in the back courtyard. Looking beyond, he could see the old pyramids across the river at Giza glowing in the morning sunlight.

A peaceful enough place, he thought. Hawk packed the bowl, lit up and offered the smoke with some prayers. “Please give me some guidance, Tunkashila,” he said to himself as he finished.

On the way to his room he heard a crash coming from down the hall.

He looked in the room to see Tori standing over a pile of broken glassware.

“What?” she shouted at seeing him. Her eyes flicked to the tomahawk in his hands. “What are you doing?”

“I was just having the smoke,” Hawk said, tapping out the ash to make his point.

“A strange weapon,” she said.

“To my people it symbolizes the pipe of peace or the ax of war. I want to make sure you were all right.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped back. “But I have to go with you, out to Fayyum!”

Although Hawk thought it would be a blessing to get away from the various political factions in Cairo they had encountered in the past couple of days, the only reply he offered was, “What?” In response, Tori snatched up a piece of paper and shoved it into his face.

“There, from the Chief Priestess herself. Ordering Nili and Lissa and myself to go with the Professor’s expedition to Fayyum to protect them from ‘whatever dangers they may encounter.’ I…” she seethed with rage as she crumpled the paper and threw it across the room. “I have done my best, all my life, to serve my goddess and protect our land. And now I have to go and aid the very people stealing it!”

She screamed in rage as she stormed around the room. Hawk stayed the whole time and watched.

“You can go any time!” she shouted. “You’re just another imperialist like the rest!”

“I ain’t no imperialist,” Hawk said.

“You say that, like any Yankee. Yet you wear the jacket of an American soldier. They may not be as bad as the British, and they also say they are not imperialists as they move into Hawaii, and the Gods only know where else.”

“They also attack my people, the Sioux. All but destroyed us. I killed the American soldier to get this jacket,” Hawk said. For once, Tori stopped her raging and looked at him. Hawk felt like she was seeing him with new eyes. “I actually dreamed about that last night.”

“Tell me,” she said. There was a calm in her voice that Hawk did not recognize.

“The dream or the battle?”

“Either,” Tori said, sitting down on her bed.

“It was at the Battle of the Greasy Grass, the US soldier was riding up on me and I was sixteen, barely more than a boy then, I pointed and yelled stop, and he fell dead off his horse.”

“And you know that was what killed him?” she asked, looking at Hawk with new eyes.

Hawk nodded. “Several other warriors saw it.”

“Your hika must be exceptionally strong,” Tori said.

“That’s what he said,” Hawk muttered.

“Who?” Tori asked. Hawk shook his head. “Who else said your hika is strong?”

“Horus.” Hawk expected Tori to start raging again, but she just sat there, staring at the floor.

“I dedicated myself to Sakhmit at age twelve. I have loved and venerated her all my life. She has never appeared to me. And yet Horus appears to a shemmo.” Tori looked back at Hawk with a newfound respect. “Have you ever done that again? Killed from a distance.”

“No,” Hawk said. “To kill from the distance without touching someone, without the gun or bow, it’s…”

“A frightening power,” Tori said. “You are an unusual man, Hawk Ramsey.” She gestured Hawk over and he sat down on the bed next to her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“What would have happened to you, if you had stayed among your people.”

“Trained to be the wichasha wakan, a holy man,” he said. “My uncle was a wapiya, conjurer. But he died of cholera before the Battle of the Greasy Grass, taking all the skills with him. I ain’t learned any more than the basics.”

“If you had been born in Egypt,” Tori said. “Your hika would have been recognized and you would have trained as a lector priest. Especially since Horus has appeared to you.” She stopped and looked him over. “I could see you as a Horus priest. On the airship, when the Martyrs of St. Mark attacked, and again last night at the ball, you simply observed, like a Horus priest, or a falcon, waiting for the right moment to strike.”

Before Hawk could respond, one of the other Ladies of Flame entered the room. “Forgive the intrusion, my lady Torinre, but is it true that we are going to the Fayyum?”

Tori leaped to her feet. “Yes, Nili. You should prepare at once.” The other woman nodded and vanished into the corridor. “Now, Mr. Hawk, I also have things to prepare for, if you will excuse me.”

“Of course,” Hawk said, getting up. He carefully dodged the broken glass as he made his way out the door.

“And Hawk,” Tori said. “If you have any inclination to use that hika of yours, I know a spell or two to help you.”

“Thank you,” Hawk said. “I like that very much.”