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Rameses almost didn't recognize him, his own brother, but then he saw that somewhat familiar 'desert flower' and took a closer look at the face of the bedouin-dressed visitor. Those tired eyes, that wondering way of looking about the court, not as if he had never seen something so fine, but as though he were picking out the little differences from a memory…

"Moses?" Rameses whispered brokenly, hand raised for silence.

Married, hair grown out, clothes dusty with travel and the desert…

"Is it really?" But it was. Really. "Moses!"

He embraced his brother and finally heard "Rameses!" echoing back.