The Desert Prince

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The Desert Prince Page 18

by Alisha Sevigny


  And a better option than leaving him to rot in a puddle of his own waste, thinks the ruthless healer in the back of my mind.

  “You have my gratitude for all lifetimes,” she says, tears glistening. She wipes them away and offers me a watery smile. “I am here for another reason. Pepi asked me to help you with something.”

  He did not say anything to me this morning, but perhaps this is another test to see how I handle the unexpected. Or maybe it is meant to distract Amara and give her a moment away from her nursing duties. “What is it?” I say, happy to be a diversion for my friend.

  “Where does Min keep the henna?”

  I look at her in bafflement. There is a faint star in her eye, twinkling, and I see a glimpse of her character as it was before her troubles. Then what she said slowly dawns on me, like Ra himself. “Oh, no.” I shake my head. “No, no, no.”

  Amara laughs as she walks past me. Despite my misgivings, it is a lovely sound. “I will find it.”

  “You are not colouring my hair,” I call after her. But she takes no heed. It was commanded by the chieftain’s cousin after all — and I once offered to cut it myself. Besides, judging by the look in her eyes, Amara is very much looking forward to carrying out her instructions.

  “That should be long enough,” Amara says, satisfied. “Let’s wash it out.” We are by the lake. Having little choice but to let her have her way with my hair, I sat with my arms folded as she coated my strands with the herbal dye. Whether this is a test or a distraction, an altered appearance will not come amiss when I am back in Thebes. My month on the streets comes to me, as it does now and then. I kept Ky and myself away from the royal eye for a whole moon, and this time I will have the benefit of Pepi’s knowledge on how to remain hidden. A churlish part of me wonders if perhaps I should be giving him some advice. After all, he was not in the pits for the benefit of his health. With all I know now, I wonder again how he ended up in there. A conversation to save for our journey; there will be plenty of time to talk.

  I walk into the cool water and dive under, scrubbing my head to rinse the dye from my hair. When at last I feel no more residue, I exit the lake to where Amara waits with worn linens for me to dry off with.

  “Look how it changes your appearance,” she says, pointing to the calm water. I peer at my reflection.

  “It does not look all that different.” My tone is doubtful.

  “Wait until it dries,” Amara advises. “You will not recognize yourself.”

  “Let us hope others do not as well,” I murmur, rubbing my hair with the cloth. The fabric comes away a deep purple-red, the colour of Pharaoh’s best wine. The chieftain was not wrong about how fast I go through linens.

  “Will it be dangerous, retrieving this scroll?” Amara asks, hearing my comment.

  “Yes,” I admit. “The powers at Thebes are very … protective of it.”

  “I confess I do not understand all the fuss over a simple papyrus.” Amara scrubs at her hands in the lake. She glances up at me. “Unless it is the one from the prophecy?”

  I freeze. Water drips from my hair onto the ground. I wind up my hair in another linen, tucking the towel in at the back, then stand to face her. “What do you know of a prophecy?” Something, if she speaks of it.

  “Only what Akin tells me.” Her eyes are wary. “Yanassi confides everything in him.”

  “And he in you?”

  She ignores my question. “I married my husband for love.”

  “I see you two are very close.”

  “I will not see him die, and I will not see him wither away in despair,” she says, holding her hands out for the linens. I pass them to her, and she dries off her hands. “You must get this scroll so Akin can be healed.” She glances around. “I will tell you what you need to know to see you back safely.”

  I am careful to keep my face as calm as the water’s surface. “What is it I need to know?” Pepi said the oracle claims that the papyrus has power of life over death, and that whoever holds it holds the power to rule. He did not mention if that was the entirety of the oracle’s message or if there was more to it, which — knowing the spy — was likely intentional. Is Amara about to reveal something new?

  Amara leans forward and whispers, though there is no one around, “Pepi may have his own private reasons for seeking the scroll.”

  I force myself to speak calmly. “What would those be?” Though Amara does not appear to know any additional details about the prophecy, her warning to be wary of Pepi’s motives has my heart pounding all the same.

  “Perhaps he thinks he can impress those at Avaris, in particular the king there, if he retrieves such a prize for him,” she says, thoughtful. “Yanassi’s father holds him in high regard, and this could increase his standing further.”

  “You think he wants the scroll to seek glory for himself?” It is a point. Though Pepi says he has no desire to be king, perhaps he seeks his “uncle’s” approval all the same. Amara looks perplexed. I understand and share her confusion. It does not seem to fit with his character. Unless he has fooled us all.

  “I am not sure,” she admits. “I only know Akin does not fully trust him.”

  I touch Amara’s arm. “Thank you for confiding in me.”

  “It is for selfish reasons,” she says. “I want you to return with the scroll.” Her eyes, now bright with unshed tears, implore me. “Vow to me, on your honour as a healer, on the child you helped bring into this world, that you will come back to us.”

  “I will do all that I can,” I say. Her shoulders slump in relief and she lets out a shaky breath. Queen Anat’s face appears in my vision. “But I will have to contend with others. People much bigger and more powerful than I am.” I hear the doubt in my voice.

  Amara hears it as well. “Is a scorpion’s bite no less effective because it is small?” she says softly. “I must get back to the babe. She will be hungry.”

  “Go to your family,” I say. “You have my thanks for assisting with my hair.”

  “The red becomes you.” She leans over to kiss my cheek, as if she knows we are saying goodbye. “Be well, Sesha.”

  “Be well, Amara.”

  43

  I GET TO THE FIRE LATE, EXHAUSTED, mind still digesting all it has had to swallow today. Despite Pepi telling me to get a good rest, this may be my last night with my friends for some time, and I want to spend it with them.

  They are there, listening to a story. Merat sits beside Paser, and Reb sits with the young woman from the other night, Zina. Everyone pays rapt attention. Everyone except the chieftain, whose eyes are on Merat, who sits just a little too close to Paser. The chieftain will not wait until Avaris to make Merat his bride if this continues. He might also not hesitate to throw Paser out of the oasis, or even kill him outright, if he perceives him a real rival for Merat’s attentions, soldier or not.

  Something more must be done, but what? Merat is accustomed to getting whatever she wants, and though she promised to try and hide her feelings, her every glance in my friend’s direction, under lowered lashes, hints at them. Even her body leans toward him, unconsciously or not, like the flower bends toward the sun.

  My friends nod at me as I sit quietly beside them, but they turn back to the story, captured by Namu’s words and animated impersonations. They do not know it is my last night with them. I sit there, basking in the glow of the warm fire and in their presence, thinking about how to keep them safe.

  At last, the story reaches its dramatic conclusion. People clap and cheer and the drums beat in appreciation for the teller. Paser puts his fingers to his mouth and lets out a loud, approving whistle. I look at him.

  “One of the soldiers taught me.” He smiles, and my heart turns over in my chest. Maybe it is because I will not see it for a while, but suddenly I realize how much I have come to love his smile. How much he has got me through. I cannot let any harm come to him. He is my sun, too.

  We make our way from the fire. Merat is talking to the girl standing with
Reb. I seize my chance and lean over to whisper to Paser.

  “Meet me later?” I ask quietly. “Come to my hut when the moon is at its peak.”

  He looks surprised, but nods.

  People mingle as they say their good nights. Merat and I take our leave and walk in the direction of our dwelling.

  “It is nice that Reb has someone who seems enamoured of him,” she says, a little wistful.

  “For his sake, let us hope another from the tribe is not interested in her.” My voice is a little sharper than I intended, and she sighs at my not-so-subtle reprimand. I change the subject, not wanting our last conversation to be a lecture. “I coloured my hair.” It was dark by the fire and my friends did not notice.

  “I wish I could see.” She peers at me and I remember something.

  “I will meet you back at the hut,” I say, turning and heading straight for the fire. Fumbling in my robes, I pull out the candle Pentu gave me this morning, which feels like days ago. Crouching low to reach the embers, I light the candle, then carefully make my way back to the hut, one hand over the flame, but the breath of the gods does not blow strongly tonight.

  I enter the hut. “I have a gift for you.” Merat looks up in surprise and I present her with the sweet-smelling beeswax candle.

  “Sesha!” Merat’s delight warms me like the candle. “How lovely!” She holds it up to my hair. “Who did it for you?” she asks, a hint of jealousy in her tone.

  “Amara.”

  Picking up a lock, she examines it with the expert eye of one well versed in cosmetics. “She did a good job,” she admits.

  “Do you … do you think it changes my appearance much?” I ask. The candle lends a soft glow to the room, the light flickering over our skin, casting shadows.

  She looks at me curiously. “Yes, now that I look at you. You seem different. Older?”

  I must look relieved, because she adds, “You will leave for Thebes soon, then?”

  “Yes.” I do not elaborate.

  “Where did you come by the candle?” she asks, admiring it.

  “Pentu, the beekeeper, gave it to me.”

  “Should we not save it for something special?”

  “It was meant as a wedding gift,” I say, reminding us that though we have bought some time, her engagement, and my own fake betrothal, still looms, especially if we are not able to escape once in the city. My words cause even more shadows to settle on her face.

  She sits down on the floor, carefully setting the flame in front of her, and places her chin on folded arms on top of knees, watching the candle burn. I sit down beside her.

  “I am sorry, Merat.” My voice is soft. “We came to rescue you, and though it seems all we have done is delay your fate, you must not give up. At the least you can be sure of our company, no matter what befalls us.”

  “And that is everything to me.” She reaches out her hand and I take it. It is warm and soft, her palms still smooth despite the hardships of the last few weeks. The hands of a princess. My princess. If Paser is my sun, then Merat is my moon. “You are a true friend of the heart, Sesha. The gods gave me a great gift in you.”

  “And to me in you.” I lean over and kiss my friend lightly on the cheek, heart burning bright as the candle. We sit there in the semi-dark, holding hands beside the beeswax flame. Her head dips to rest on my shoulder, and she falls asleep, while I force myself to stay awake. There is Paser yet to deal with.

  The moon beams brighter, or maybe it’s just the night growing darker, and I hear a noise outside. Stealing quietly from the hut, I go to save my friend’s life, doubting that he, or anyone else, realizes the danger he’s in.

  The night air is cool and fresh. I glance around for Paser and make out a shape on one of the paths.

  “Paser,” I whisper, and he steps out into Khonsu’s warm light.

  “Sesha, what is it?” He’s aware I would not ask to speak to him in private after all have gone to their beds unless it was urgent.

  “Let us walk a bit,” I say. He looks confused but starts down the path, and I walk beside him. Waiting will not make what I am about to do any easier.

  “I leave for Thebes tomorrow night,” I say, the words rushing out in one breath. He stops abruptly. “I will get the scroll, warn Pharaoh, and see Ky.”

  “Those who do not know you well might say you have lost your sense of reason,” he finally says, looking up at the sky.

  “Reb expressed a similar sentiment when I proposed we go into the desert to find the Hyksos and Merat.” I gesture around me. “We made it here all right.”

  “Sesha, we almost perished during that journey. It was only by the gods’ good graces that we made it out of the Red Land alive.”

  “The gods’ and Pepi’s,” I say. “He will be with me, and this time we will be better prepared. Do not fear for me.” I put a hand out to him and he turns to face me. “I will be safe, my friend.”

  He shakes his head. “I should be coming with you.”

  “I can think of no one else I would like more at my side, but you must stay here for the princess and for Reb.” I smile, thinking of the young woman by the fire. “He may need your advice in matters of the heart.”

  “I do not think any advice of mine will help,” Paser says quietly, looking down at the ground.

  In a rush of courage, I stand on my toes, place my hands on his strong arms, and press my mouth to his. Pulling away, I try to sort the emotions flooding my body and mind.

  Paser gets his breath back first. “What was that for?”

  And this is it. The reason I asked him to come here tonight.

  “A token,” I say, my voice as soft and warm as the moonlight. “To keep close to your heart until my return.”

  He blinks. “Are you telling me to wait for you?”

  “I have no right to ask such a thing.” I say these words, but let my eyes say otherwise. My hope is that by giving him hope, for us, I will limit his susceptibility to Merat’s charms and keep him safe from the chieftain’s wrath. “I must go.” It is time to rest.

  Paser nods, still looking stunned.

  “Good night, my friend,” I say. “Sleep well.” I turn and walk quickly back to my hut before he stops me, before he can ask what I mean by sneaking out to kiss him in the middle of the night under the shimmering light of the stars and a nearly full moon, whose effects likely have something to do with the whole scenario anyway. Slipping back in under the cover of Merat’s soft snores, I feel pricks of guilt, sharp as the stings of the bees.

  I must harden my heart. As the Hyksos make their bronze weapons stronger by thrusting the metal alloy into the flames, I, too, must walk the red-hot coals of calculated decisions if any of us are to survive. What I do is for Paser’s and Merat’s safety. If he thinks there’s a chance for us, it might stop him from falling for her. Because if he does that, they are both doomed.

  I hear Pepi’s voice, wryly resigned. You are becoming a spy, Sesha.

  “How wonderful,” I mutter under my breath, to no one but the gods who can still stand the sight of me. “I wonder if I will lose all honour in the process?” Closing my eyes, I focus on slowing my breathing, forcing myself to sleep; there is no question I will need my rest for the exhausting journey ahead.

  The voice comes back, fainter now, so faint I am not sure what it says until that instant before nothingness, when the words fall into place.

  Keeping your honour will be the least of your worries …

  44

  I WAKE THE NEXT MORNING with Ra’s first rays. Merat still sleeps, and I look over at my friend, golden light striking just above her head. She looks like she’s glowing. I get dressed quietly and leave the hut, trying not to think whether this might be the last time I see her.

  The village is slowly waking, and there are a few people out as I make my way along the worn paths, nodding back at those who greet me as if I am one of them. Birds twitter and call to one another, trilling over their breakfasts. I breathe in the fresh air an
d soak up the sounds and colours around me — the vibrant greens of the oasis plants and trees, the beautiful pinks and purples of the flowers, the blue of the sparkling lake in the distance — stowing their lush intensity for the time ahead when I will see nothing but sand for days on end.

  Reaching Min’s neat hut, I look for the healer. This is my last day at the oasis and I mean to speak with him more about my father. With more pressing matters occupying my time, I have not had the chance to ask my questions. I find the physician in the gardens, cursing the caterpillars again; they’ve made a nice meal of another of the rarer and more difficult-to-grow plants.

  “It does not matter what I do.” Min shakes his head. “The villains eat until they are fat and bloated.”

  “But they turn into such beautiful creatures.” I look up at a few of the butterflies that flit overhead, their wings as golden as the sunlight above. “At least the plant is not going completely to waste.”

  “It does more good brewed,” he grumbles. “When combined with a few others, this plant creates a powerful potion that can bring one back from the underworld.” I examine the innocent-looking leaves of the plant. “Careful,” Min warns. “The seeds are the most potent part. Come, I am preparing it today.”

  Collecting what we need, Min points out different uses for each plant and herb, one for every sickness and ailment imaginable. The gods provide us with such an amazing array of options for healing. There are no urgent medical requests this morning, so we spend it preparing medicines in the peaceful shade of Min’s small hut.

  “Can you tell me about my father?” I ask at last, during one quiet moment.

  “You knew him better than I,” Min says, amused. “We first met when he was young and I was supplementing my training in Thebes. We crossed paths again a few years later when he visited the delta. By then he was an accomplished physician, and he had come for a few moons to instruct, as well as to learn new techniques from the physicians in Avaris.”

  I almost spill the potion I’m mixing. My father was in Avaris? Min mentioned he was in the delta, but I did not know he was in the Hyksos capital. It fits him, though. I can see him being intrigued by the sights and sounds of the bustling port city, the mingling of diverse cultures and traditions.

 

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