“It’s hard for a lot of people, even for many who have been born in this time. So did Seth ever find the golden horse?”
“He did, but he could not capture it. After Amun-Ra healed Horus, he banished Seth, who was enveloped by a desert storm, never to appear again until my own time. Nebu the golden stallion became a legend. Many men died seeking him in the desert. Amun-Ra’s challenge has never fulfilled, and there were many who thought they could become the heir of the sun god if they captured and tamed the famous horse.”
“Will you tell me about that, too?”
“Perhaps later, Young Lily.”
“I didn’t know sun gods needed rest.”
Amon closed his eyes and murmured, “Your questions have finally tired me.”
“Well, you are very old,” I teased.
Opening his eyes to slits, Amon turned his head toward me. “Not old enough that I cannot rein in lovely tormenters who bedevil me with questions and delight in afflicting me with all manner of inducements.”
I was going to ask him what he meant by inducements, but then he sighed and nestled his head against my shoulder. My nose was pressed into his hair. It was as soft as a newborn’s and I couldn’t help but inhale the scent of him—warm amber and myrrh. Adjusting himself by shifting even closer, he covered both of us with a blanket and quickly fell asleep.
My body was lulled by the contact as little pulses of warmth sank into my skin. Questions still swirled in my mind, but I turned off the light and let the darkness of the plane envelop me. I tried to quiet my thoughts, but instead I imagined what it must have felt like to wander the desert, blinded. A falcon cried and I jerked awake just as the captain announced our descent into Cairo.
With his sunshine smile, Amon bade each crew member best wishes before disembarking. By the time he was finished, he was confident enough to not only find his way around the airport, which would have been challenging even for me, but to gain us access to a VIP lounge where we could refresh ourselves.
After I’d rinsed out my mouth, brushed my hair, and washed my face, I met Amon in the waiting area, where he handed me a bottle of water. I was exhausted, and not just because I hadn’t slept very long. It was something deeper, and I sensed that my connection to Amon was a primary cause. Amon noticed my exhaustion, too.
“You are weary, Young Lily.”
Sipping my water, I nodded.
“Come,” he said, leading me to some very comfortable-looking chairs next to large windows. I sat in one while he stood directly in front of me. The sunlight helped a bit, but my eyes still felt swollen and, despite my having downed my water, my mouth felt gritty and dry.
Amon pressed his fingers against my cheek and his eyes remained closed for several moments. “Well, doctor? What’s the diagnosis? Am I going to live?” I asked, half joking and half fearing his answer.
Frowning, Amon picked up my hand and squeezed it lightly. “You need to rest,” he announced.
“I already knew that.”
Though concern was written all over his face, he tried to hide it. “Then let us be on our way,” he said gently.
Amon helped me stand and then wrapped his arms around me. Immediately, I panicked. “Whoa, there! Wait a just a minute, Mister I Dream of Jeannie. Why don’t you save the sand travel for when we really need it?”
Pausing, Amon took stock of our surroundings. “Perhaps you are right. Let us find a golden chariot.”
Tagging along behind him, I said, “They might not be golden in Egypt, you know.”
“Ah, yes. Cairo is likely much more advanced than your city of Manhattan. We will find some fast horses.”
“Um, you might want to prepare yourself for a little culture shock,” I cautioned as we headed toward the doors. “I don’t think you’ll find Egypt like it was a thousand years ago.”
“They are still my people. I am sure the city will be much like I remember.”
“Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Amon’s face darkened when we stepped out into the bright sunshine. The city stretched before us, and it was undeniably not what Amon had been hoping for. He glared at me when I quipped, “See? Not even a camel.”
Approaching an airport security guard, Amon adjusted my bag on his shoulder and began speaking with the guy. When he returned, I saw the guard on his walkie-talkie. “What’s up?” I asked.
“He will arrange a VIP chariot for us.” Pointing to one of the small black-and-white taxis that sped by, Amon added, “I will not bend my body to fit into a chariot so small. My sarcophagus was more spacious.”
I laughed, shifting closer to him so a large group of people could pass us, and Amon wrapped his hands protectively around my shoulders. There were many tourist groups from several different cultures and countries. Amon cocked his head and listened as they passed. “There are so many languages,” he said finally.
“Egypt is a pretty popular tourist destination.”
“What does this mean, ‘tourist destination’?”
“Well, many visitors come to Egypt to see the pyramids or other relics of the past.”
“What kinds of relics?” The car arrived, and the driver rushed out to take the bag from Amon.
“Artifacts like pottery, art, jewelry, old writings on papyrus, mummies, that sort of thing.”
Amon had my door halfway open but halted. “They visit Egypt to view the dead? See the bodies of those who have left this life?”
Suddenly, I became aware of how disrespectful that seemed. “Um, yes. Though I think some of the more fragile mummies are kept locked away from the public. I suppose you could think of it as the people of this time paying their respects to the kings and pharaohs of old. No one is allowed to touch them, and they’re usually preserved under glass.”
Amon didn’t say anything for a moment, and I could tell he was rolling the idea around in his head.
When we were settled in the car, Amon said to the driver, “We are VIP travelers seeking respite from our journey. We require refreshment, new clothing, and supplies.”
The driver raised his eyebrows at Amon, chanced a look at me, and asked in English, “Where do you like to go?”
“Take us to a nice hotel.”
“Cheap nice, or pay-the-money nice?”
Amon leaned forward. “The fee is immaterial.”
“Pay-a-lot-of-money nice,” I clarified.
“Very good.”
The driver sped off, taking what I suspected was the long route, but I didn’t complain. It was nice to watch Amon as he took in the changes to the city.
“How far are the pyramids of Giza?” I asked the driver.
“Not far. Maybe thirty-five, forty kilometers. You want to go today?”
“No. Today, we rest.”
“Very good.”
“The weather is cooler than I expected. Is this normal?”
“April is spring in Cairo,” the driver explained. “Very nice.”
I played with my phone and discovered that the pyramids were about twenty miles from the airport. Converting to cubits, I whispered, “Sixty-seven thousand five hundred cubits.”
Amon just grunted in response, totally transfixed by the scenes outside the window. Modern Cairo was a bustling city. Like New York, it had a mix of both old and new buildings, except that old had an entirely different meaning in Egypt.
We passed mosques and bazaars, cemeteries and museums, luxury towers and apartment buildings, and theaters and shops, but unlike New York, Cairo had an ancient feel, and it wasn’t hard to imagine that if the people slowed down enough, the desert dust that constantly lapped at the edges of the city would rise up like a hungry wild beast and consume civilization, dragging it back into the sand and burying it so completely that Cairo would quickly be lost, like the cities of old.
The driver finally pulled up in front of a large hotel with a beautiful circular pool and fountain. Palm trees lined the drive, and two large columns, carved to look like ancient obelisks, stretched t
o the sky on either side of the pool.
We got out, and as Amon spun in a slow circle, I fumbled for my credit card. Amon then turned his attention back to us. Fixing his gaze on the driver, he murmured a few words, and without further comment, the man turned his head, put the car in gear, and drove off. I wonder how long we’re going to be able to keep doing this.
The hotel was opulent, and other than the decor, I could have easily mistaken it for an upscale building in Manhattan. The lobby boasted a five-star restaurant, and the outer sections were lined with expensive shops selling women’s clothing, designer handbags and luggage, and souvenirs; a bar; and an after-hours lounge. There was even a perfumery.
Amon hypnotized the guy at the front desk, and we were soon swept with our meager belongings up to the top floor. They gave Amon keys to the minibar and to a VIP lounge where we could dine in private if we wished. After teaching him how to order from the room service menu, I disappeared into the shower.
Donning a robe and thinking I’d head to bed wearing it instead of my rumpled clothes, I ducked my head into the next room to find Amon surrounded by dishes of food. He sat in the sunshine coming in from the window, not eating. Our view was incredible. Far below was the beautiful Nile, sunlight twinkling across its surface. Though his hair and skin were gleaming, I’d never seen him so melancholy.
“I see you’ve ordered a feast. Aren’t you hungry?” I asked.
“I have no passion for food.”
“That’s very unlike you.”
“Yes. Do you see, Lily?” Amon pointed to the Nile. “I have ridden on this very river countless times and yet I do not know this place.”
“I’m sure the water has eroded the banks over time—”
“I do not mean the dimensions of the river; I mean the land, the people around it. They have been lost, stolen. They have disappeared like the dew before the sun.”
“Amon”—I took his hand and gripped it in mine—“they…we…are still your people. We have new technology, we travel by different means, we have all kinds of jobs you’ve probably never even considered possible, but we are the same. We still have the same needs—we drink, eat, seek friendship and love. We worry over those we care for. We fight in battles. We are hurt. We become ill, and we die.”
“Yes. But perhaps you no longer need a…relic…such as me. Maybe it is time for me to sleep under the glass like the others, never to rise again.”
I wondered how it would feel to waken only once every thousand years, to see the world change and move on without me, to have no ties to anyone, no family. He must be terribly lonely. Though we were as different as two people could possibly be, I knew what being alone did to a person.
Turning my head, I stared at the blue river gleaming below. “The Nile has nurtured and fed countless generations, and it’s still here serving and providing for the people of Egypt. Many may walk along its shore and take it for granted. They may not even think about the kings who rode its waves or the people who depended upon it for drinking water or for crops, but that doesn’t lessen its impact. It doesn’t lessen its importance. Your people may not know you. They may walk past you in the street and never feel your power, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t need you.”
I didn’t know what else to say. I knew how different this raising must have been for him when compared with the other times. Then he was celebrated and now he was forgotten.
Looking up, Amon said, “You are right, Lily.”
“What? How?” I had just been thinking that I was very wrong.
“It does not matter if we acknowledge the sun; it continues to shine regardless of the heed we give it. If my efforts go without recognition, then so be it. I pledged my service to the people of Egypt, and I will continue to provide it until such time as Egypt no longer has need.”
“When might that be?”
“When there is no longer a threat of darkness.”
“That might never happen.”
“Then I shall continue to serve.”
Amon’s hazel eyes looked haunted.
“How are you handling all of this? I mean, all the changes you see in the world must be staggering.”
“You are how I…handle it, Lily.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is difficult to explain.”
“Can you try?”
“My mind can understand the world through your eyes. Take your phone, for example. If I concentrate, I can picture you using it. I see in my mind how you rely upon the device, and though I cannot understand it fully, I do not fear it.”
“What about the planes and cars and skyscrapers?” He cocked his head and focused on me. “Wait, you’re doing it right now, aren’t you? Are you looking for the definition of skyscraper?”
“Yes.”
“It means these large buildings.”
“Ah. Though I can catch pictures and emotions from any person I choose, there is a special connection to you. It is more than the Eye. Our bond not only provides me with energy but also steadies me. Without you I would be a barque tossed upon a stormy sea without sail or anchor. I would be truly lost.”
“So have you bonded like this with other people? When you rose before, I mean?”
“No. You are the first.”
“Why didn’t you bond with others? Didn’t you need their help?”
“A bonding is a fusing of all five aspects of myself with another. Boundaries between the two people involved can easily become blurred. It is an…intimate thing.”
“Is that why I have a hard time controlling what I say? I mean, it’s like everything I think just spills out of me whether I want it to or not.”
Amon nodded. “Your inner thoughts and feelings have been drawn to the surface. In the past, I have known where I was and the work I had to do. My jars of death were always near, so I did not need to rely upon another. My brothers woke the same day as I did, and together we accomplished our purpose without imposing our will upon a mortal. The bond was never enacted because it was never needed. I will always be sorry for the burden this connection places upon you.”
I was quiet for a moment and then said, “I’m sensing there is more you’re not telling me.”
Amon looked away. “There is nothing that you need be concerned about. I will continue to tread very carefully so that you come to no harm. Speaking of that, you should rest now, Young Lily.”
“You’re tired, too,” I said quietly. “Won’t you sleep?”
Standing, Amon drew me to my feet and took a strand of my wet hair in his fingers. As he pulled it back from my face, he kissed my forehead—a gesture that surprised us both. “You need to sleep more than I, Nehabet,” he said as he took a step back.
“What does that mean?”
“In my language, a nehabet is a precious water lily found in an oasis, and this water lily”—he tapped my shoulder—“needs to rest.” When I started to protest, he shushed me with the tip of a finger on my upper lip. There is only one bed. My wish is for you to take it.”
With a nudge, he sent me off to the bedroom. As I closed the door, I saw him turn back toward the window and run a shaky hand through his hair.
It was early afternoon when I fell asleep, and by the time I woke it was already evening. The bedroom window was open and night air wafted in, cool and carrying the scents of river, desert flowers, and exotic spices. Cracking open the door, I found Amon asleep. His long form was bent unnaturally on the couch, the food on the table still untouched.
Wheeling the cart of cold food into the hall, I got on the phone and quietly ordered more and then knelt in front of Amon as I waited for the food to be delivered. His new hair covered his eyes, and after a moment of self-denial, I shut off the part of my mind that was normally in charge of things and gently brushed the hair out of his eyes with my fingertips. The warmth of this skin drew me, and I wanted to just sit near him to feel the radiance of it.
His full lips were softened in sleep, and I realized that what I
was seeing was the man, not the sun god. There were two sides to him, both engraved upon the same solid coin. Each version was powerful, handsome, and commanding, but Amon the man, who was vulnerable, who doubted himself, who yearned to feel a connection with other people, was the one I was more attracted to.
It was all too easy to imagine him, sleepy, sultry, and warm, opening his arms to me, and me kissing him, slipping my hands into his hair as we passionately embraced. When the idea floated through my mind that I could easily come to fall for someone like him, I removed my hand and chided myself for getting lost in girlish fantasies. I didn’t know what had come over me and I wasn’t prone to rationalization, but I decided to give myself a break. This was the one time in my life I was going to allow myself to indulge in breaking the rules; if I wanted to fawn over a gorgeous man, no one was around to notice or care.
Still, my old way of thinking crept back in. Even if I ended up liking Amon enough to want to do something about it, what did that mean? We could never have a future together.
But he was attentive—not only to me but to others. Sunny—there was something special that happened when Amon turned up the wattage; it was almost like I couldn’t help being happy. Committed—how could a girl resist a guy who would give up his own desires and sacrifice himself to save others?
These traits along with many others cast a brilliant light upon the shadowy dream guy I’d first met. He disappeared and what was left was Amon. I could fall recklessly, dangerously, in love with a guy like him, but I couldn’t create a scenario in my mind where that kind of relationship ended up being anything other than heartbreaking. Of course, my parents wouldn’t approve of him unless he had a graduate degree or political aspirations.
The irony was that if I’d lived in Amon’s time, my parents couldn’t have hoped for a better match. He was a prince of Egypt, after all. Even without the power of the sun god, Amon had been going places. I wrinkled my nose, thinking that maybe he would have wed a sister, like the gods of old. Then again, perhaps he didn’t have one.
Regardless, I’d been granted a temporary reprieve from planning an entire future for myself, and I’d always be grateful to him for that. I hadn’t realized how heavy the weight of my structured life was until it was gone. Being with Amon made me feel like anything was possible. I no longer felt like the person called Miss Young, or Lilliana. With him, I was just Lily, or Young Lily. I liked being Lily much better.
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