The bath was little more than a roofless cubicle with a slab of limestone in one corner. Slabs of the red sandstone that showed up all over the oasis protected plastered walls to waist height. It wasn’t much better than bathing in the Nile, Cornelia thought, but at least she didn’t have to share it with passing crocodiles. The only wildlife visible inhabited eroded hieroglyphs in the sandstone—a flock of geese, a falcon, a snake or two. She bent to examine the opening where water drained outside. No scorpions lurked there. She stepped up onto the slab, lifted the large jug she carried, and let water trickle down over her shoulders. The limestone felt hot against her soles, the water tepid. There was no way to escape the heat. At least the water sluiced away the sand that accumulated on her skin, finding its way to the corners of her eyes and the back of her neck. She could feel the fine grit when she ran a hand along her arm.
