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frescoes depicting stories of the gods and great military victories of Pharaohs. The royal gardens, groomed to perfection, humbled the beautiful garden at my home that I had grown to love so much. Father awaited us in front of the largest building of the palace complex.
    “You are most beautiful today, Tuya,” Father said as he took my hand and helped me from the chariot. He assisted Mother in the same way. Father wore his finest kilt, and a cloak onto which he had fastened three golden flies, which attested to his prowess at “stinging” foes in battle.
    “I’m pleased you are wearing your decorations,” I said. “Ramesses should know of your bravery.”
    With the officer in the lead, Father behind him, and Mother and me side by side behind Father, we climbed the steps of the building and entered the main corridor. Sunlight poured through openings in the ceiling onto a rectangular pool in which ibises and ducks, and even a heron, waded among lotus and papyrus. Grapevines climbed trellises, and birds fluttered and sang high above. As I walked past the mural walls and dozens of brightly painted wooden columns, I resisted the urge to gawk. Though awed by my surroundings, I innately knew this was where I belonged.
    We stopped before a huge wooden door. A guard opened it a crack and the officer exchanged words with someone on the other side. Within moments, the guard opened the door fully, and the old emissary who had come to our home beckoned us to pass through.
    “Before you sits the exalted Ramesses, Vizier of Egypt,” the emissary said to us in a loud voice.
    Ramesses leaned back in a large black and gilt chair located on a dais. My parents and I walked forward. Standing abreast of each other with me in the middle, we bowed from the waist.
    “This is Raia, an officer of the Royal Guard,” the emissary said to Ramesses. “He is accompanied by his wife Ruia and their daughter Tuya.”
    Ramesses, wearing the simple white vestment of a Vizier that reached from his chest to the floor, rose and walked down the three steps to me. He put his right hand on my chin, lifted my head and looked directly into my eyes.
    “So you are the healer I’ve heard so much about,” Ramesses said.
    “I am honored to be in your presence,” I replied, staring up at a man a head taller than I. Ramesses, wearing a wig but little jewelry, was older than Father. His skin had lost its luster, but there was an air of great dignity about him, and great energy. Kindness, too, seemed to flow from his dark brown, deep-set eyes.
    “My aide did not mislead me. You are quite beautiful,” he continued.
    “Thank you, My Lord.”
    Ramesses returned to his chair and sat down. “I’ve been told you speak with Isis. Is this so?”
    I did much more than speak with the Queen of the Heavens. Isis dwelled within me, but I remembered Maya’s warning from years before that I should not tell this to anyone, lest they think me possessed not by a goddess, but by a demon.
    “Yes,” I answered, telling the truth, but not all of it.
    “How do I know this is so?”
    “I’ve performed miraculous healings, far greater than those accomplished by the finest physicians. How could I have done this without Isis’ assistance?”
    “A good point, Tuya. Do you know why you are here?”
    “You’re looking for a wife for your son.”
    “Would you like to be his wife?”
    “Is it not the wish of every woman to be the wife of the man who will be Pharaoh?”
    “Pharaoh? I’m but a Vizier. My son Sety is not in line for the throne.”
    “Not yet,” I said.
    Ramesses smiled. “You’re well-versed in Egypt’s politics, Tuya. Tell me about Isis. Have you always spoken with the goddess?”
    “Not always. Some years ago, I visited the realm of the Neters and first met her there.”
    “You’re most fortunate. Did you see other gods and goddesses as well?”
    “Yes. Ptah and Sekhmet. Anubis and Hathor. Horus, Thoth and others. They all greeted me.”
    Ramesses