She looks relieved, and with difficulty I make myself follow her out of the chamber.
“Bebi,” I say. “My apologies for putting you in such a position. May I have your forgiveness?”
She nods, perhaps remembering a long time ago when I was at my father’s side, helping to save her mother and new sister as she was brought into the world.
“I must beg one more thing of you,” I say. “Do not mention my appearance to anyone. Especially the queen. No good can come from it.”
“I will do as you ask.”
“Thank you, my friend.” I kiss her briefly on the cheek. “Please do not think too badly of me.”
“Of course,” she murmurs. She turns with the dazzling collar to return to where the queen waits, where her duties and loyalty lie, an invisible collar around her own neck tethering her to the kingdom and the royal family.
I run into Pepi outside of Ahmes’s chambers.
“Did you find your brother?” he whispers as we slip into the room.
“No.” I force the word past the lump in my throat. “Did you search Pharaoh’s room?”
“I found nothing,” Pepi admits. “We should ask the healer.” We debated earlier whether to ask Ahmes if he’s seen the scroll, but I want to involve him as little as possible. I see what Pepi means by too much information being dangerous. The resentment I feel for the spy at not sharing the exact phrasing of the prophecy lessens a cubit. “As royal physician he might have had access to it and know of its location,” Pepi says, as Ahmes walks in, overhearing.
“I might know of what’s location?” he says.
I hesitate, unsure how protective the doctor will be of the document. Just as I feel responsibility for it, he, too, recognizes it for the rare treasure it is. He will also need it for Pharaoh’s troops, should battle come; though that is a big part of why I am here: to suggest that it never does.
“The scroll,” I say at last, looking at my father’s former student. “We need it to save a friend.”
“Imhotep’s scroll?” Ahmes says, incredulously. “The one you found for Pharaoh?”
“The same,” I say, sending up a prayer that my words do not endanger him overmuch. “As you used it to heal Ky, we wish to help another suffering from an injury it addresses.”
Ahmes shakes his head. “I have not seen a copy since the night we performed the surgery on your brother.”
“The original must be in Wujat’s chambers,” Pepi says. “That is the only place we have not looked. A document like that will not lie far from either the vizier or the pharaoh.”
“I thought you wanted to speak to the council,” Ahmes says slowly. “But you are just here to take the scroll?” Like Bebi, he is tethered to the palace, to these people, as I once was.
“No,” I say, exchanging glances with Pepi. “I speak the truth. They need to be informed of the Hyksos’s weapons.”
“I do not believe the pharaoh wants war,” Ahmes says, eyeing Pepi, wary. I remind myself the spy is a stranger to the royal physician. My friends and I were also once distrustful of the Hyksos. Paser still is. “It is your tribe who stirs rebellion.” The doctor has figured out who Pepi is. “You came to spy on us. Your chieftain threatens battle and took the princess.”
Pepi narrows his eyes. “The princess was given to the chieftain by her parents.”
“Enough,” I say sharply. Ahmes’s words worry me deeply. The council will likely feel the same as the doctor toward the spy: suspicious, mistrustful. “Perhaps you should remain hidden,” I say to Pepi. “These are my people and they respected my father. They may listen to me.”
He shakes his head. “I am coming with you.”
I try to reason with him. “They will throw you in the pits the minute you start speaking.”
“You can always fish me out again.” He gives me a reckless smile. Like Paser, his taste for adventure is apparent. A taste I seem to be developing as well, as addictive as the poppy plant.
“You need to trust that I can do this,” I say, indicating with my eyes that he can also investigate Wujat’s chambers while I’m gone.
His look is piercing, like the gods’ when weighing a person’s heart against a feather to see if they are worthy of entering the Field of Reeds. “Very well,” he says finally. “If you think this is the wisest course of action, I will do as you say.”
I give a brief nod, even though the thought of not having Pepi at my side makes me feel like I’m caught in the middle of a sandstorm again. Exposed. Scared. In danger.
“We should be on our way,” Ahmes says. I take a deep breath, then follow the physician out of the room.
Pepi calls after me, “Tread carefully, Sesha. In my experience, people often turn on the messenger, whether you consider yourself one of them or not.”
49
AHMES AND I WALK DOWN the darkening hallways to where Pharaoh’s court is held. Memories of the last time I was here wash over me. It was the start of the Festival of the Inundation, when Paser and I found the scroll and the man beside me performed a risky operation on my brother, one that saved his life. Now, if we can find the same document, I will help a Hyksos physician do the same for another. It strikes me, the courage Ahmes must have had, to carry out such a dangerous procedure.
“Ahmes,” I say. “I cannot tell you how much I appreciate what you did for Ky and me.”
“It was my duty as a physician.” He gives me a sidelong glance. “One that you shared once?” I do not miss the question in his voice and think of my recent patients. Of Amara and her baby, of Akin. They are part of the reason I am here.
“I still share it.”
“One might think you traded in your healer’s tools for those of a spy,” Ahmes says, pointing to the obsidian blade strapped to my leg. “Are you an agent of the Hyksos now?”
“I am an agent for peace,” I say.
We’ve almost reached our destination and my heart pounds at where my next steps will lead me. I try to slow it with my breath, making each inhale and exhale long and steady. Controlled breathing calms the body, which calms the mind.
At last we reach the grand chamber, passing people in the hall as they stream in for the engagement ceremony. None take note of me, whether it’s my sun-darkened skin or hennaed hair, or the way I keep my head down and gaze averted. Some have been celebrating for weeks and many may not have realized I was missing, or even that I returned to the palace after my parents’ death. We enter the room with the crowds. It is full of faces I grew up knowing. Coming home is a strange thing; the place I once knew intimately, though familiar, is altered somehow. Or maybe it is me who is different. Things stand out that I took for granted before: the bend in the river, the structures, even the members of my own tribe, each of their faces resonating in the smallest spaces of my body. I come to warn them, my people. My eyes are drawn like a magnet to north, to one face in particular. My person.
Ky.
He stands on the large dais with the royal family. I am overjoyed to see he looks healthy and has put on some weight. It also appears as if he’s grown taller, so he remains slender. His skin gleams with freshly applied oils, and his eyes are boldly lined with kohl. Dozens of gold anklets and bracelets adorn his wrists and ankles, and his linen skirt is pleated finely. He looks so much like my father, whose scarab necklace rests around his neck, as he stands at Pharaoh’s side.
Ky, I say silently in my head. Ky, look at me. I am here for you!
But he does not look in my direction. Instead, he looks over at his best friend, Tutan, who is dressed just as finely, if not more so. The boys stand proudly in front of Pharaoh and — my heart skips — Queen Anat, who holds little Tabira’s hand. Wujat stands on their right. The vizier is speaking, welcoming everyone, his hands open wide. He thanks the gods for the recent rains and for the royal family’s influence.
I tear my eyes from the dais and scan the room, looking for entrances and exits and escape routes and familiarizing myself with any other potential hazards.
Everyone seems to be here. At least Pepi will have an uninterrupted exploration of Wujat’s chambers.
“Today we are honoured to announce a new member of this great and illustrious family. Young Ky, son to Pharaoh’s former royal physician Ay and his wife, whom the gods took too soon.” Ky straightens at the mention of his name, and Tutan grins behind him. I wonder if Ky’s being named an heir will affect their relationship. As Pepi says, members of ruling dynasties do not always do well with threats to their reign.
Pharaoh and the queen step forward; she looks as terrifyingly beautiful as ever. She pulls Tabira with her, and Ky, looking uncertain and nervous, holds his hands out, palms facing up. Tabira looks at her mother, the falcon collar sparkling around her neck, and obediently puts her own small hands on top of Ky’s.
Wujat continues. “We ask the gods to witness this ordained arrangement and vow to see it come to fruition, when the time comes.”
The crowd cheers wildly for the new son of the royal family, a family that does not do such things lightly. Ky is now theirs in every way that matters and will be treated accordingly.
But he is still your brother. A fierce voice whispers the words at my ear, and I recognize my mother’s spirit at my side after a long absence.
The queen bends down and plants a kiss on Ky’s forehead. My skin crawls, as if covered in Min’s caterpillars. I feel nauseous and hot and suddenly the room is stifling, the crowds pressing, and I cannot quite catch my breath.
Air. I need some air.
Heading for one of the exits I noted earlier, I rush through the masses, all jostling to get a look at the new prince and his future wife. I bump into someone and hear a rough exclamation.
Crooked Nose.
He looks like he’s just seen someone come back from the underworld, a reaction I’m becoming familiar with. He reaches for my arm. Pale or not, he is still menacing, and malevolent energy comes off him in waves. But like the apparition he imagines me to be, I slip through his outstretched grasp and dart for the exit. The crowd, still trying to get a better view of the royal family, blocks him from following.
The smaller chamber off the large room is not as congested. A few high-ranking nobles and courtiers mill about, likely awaiting the council meeting and not overly interested in the formalities of a betrothal announcement.
My breath coming fast again at my narrow escape from the soldier, I look for a place to hide and wait for the council to start their meeting, but the room is fairly open and I feel exposed. Spotting a tray of food on a small table off to the right, I pick it up and put it on my shoulder, keeping my head down, assuming the posture of a servant making the rounds. I pray that Crooked Nose thinks he only saw a spectre and does not pursue me. Besides, his place is by the queen and he will not leave her unattended.
Cheers from outside ring loud and the numbers in the room swell as important officials and members of council make their way in. Pharaoh and Wujat enter, conversing. I am relieved to see Queen Anat is not with them. Congratulations are offered to the king, food and wine are consumed, and then comes a subtle shift in the air as people make their way to their seats. It is time for business.
Another servant enters the room. I see the woman looking around, presumably for the ebony tray I’m holding. When she spots me, her brow furrows and she starts determinedly in my direction. I do my best to appear as if I am supposed to be here. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat of the crowds, and possibly from her own indulgence in the beverages provided.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. “I am to serve the council.”
“Beket sent me,” I say, naming the head of the kitchens. “And it’s a good thing, because you are late for your duties. The lords here would be most unimpressed at being kept waiting for refreshment.” I have learned that putting someone on the defensive is a good offensive tactic.
The flush in her cheeks spreads down her neck. “I had to relieve myself,” she says.
I’ve become so accustomed to bluffing, I recognize when someone else is doing it. “Because you have been indulging?” I guess — correctly, from the alarmed expression on her face. “Do not worry. I will say nothing. But we are running low on food. Go to the kitchen before people start criticizing the pharaoh’s hospitality.” She nods gratefully, hurrying out the doors and back into the crowds.
The council members take their places, settling onto low stools and reed mats, and finally the meeting begins. The first items on the agenda concern the rains and stores of food, which are still dangerously low after all the recent festivities. I stay out of Pharaoh’s and Wujat’s sight, hiding at the back of the room. The conversation eventually makes its way round to the Hyksos.
“Have you had word of your daughter?” one of the nobles asks Pharaoh.
Merat.
“I am sure she fares well,” Pharaoh says heartily.
“She must be keeping the chieftain busy,” another says, and the men laugh in that way some do when they talk of a woman as if she were merely an object for someone else’s amusement, instead of something precious, which Merat most definitely is. “With any luck, she will turn his thoughts from battle and we will have no more trouble from his rebellious regiments.”
It is time. Taking a deep breath, I step forward, still holding the tray.
“The Hyksos rebels may not be so easily dissuaded.” My voice rings out clearly and loudly. It carries over the residual chuckles of the men, and a hush falls over the room. “They are not to be underestimated.”
50
THE COUNCIL MEMBERS LOOK AROUND, confused at who is speaking. Many of them stand to see what is happening. I look directly at Pharaoh, and though he, too, looks shocked at my appearance, he holds my gaze steadily. Encouraged, I walk forward with the tray as the standing men part without realizing they are doing so.
“Sesha,” Pharaoh says, blinking. “You seem to have a habit of returning from the dead.”
“Who told you I was dead?” I ask.
“I did.” Queen Anat steps into the room and all the heads swivel toward her. I am not the only one who has a way with entrances. “And you are dead, my child. You are dead to Kemet, to our kingdom, to our family.” I flinch at her emphasis of the word; I know she refers to Ky.
Crooked Nose must have informed her of my presence, as she does not seem surprised. Not so Wujat, who also steps forward, looking stunned at my appearance. The queen must have lied to him as well. He recovers quickly, though.
“How do you know that the rebels are not to be underestimated?” The vizier rises to his full height as he speaks, towering over everyone in the room.
“I live among them.” There are gasps and murmurs from those watching the scene unfold, like they are caught up in one of Namu’s stories back at the fire.
“Why would you live among those people?” Wujat says, disdain lacing his tone.
Because the queen wanted me dead, I think. Instead, I say, “They are good enough for Princess Merat.”
A shadow crosses Pharaoh’s face, perhaps for the child he and Queen Anat traded away for a temporary reprieve.
“They took me and my friends in, on the word of another.” Pepi’s word. “Their weapons are impressive,” I continue, making my voice loud enough to be heard over the council members still murmuring. “With new technology, and equipment that is much stronger and faster than that of Pharaoh’s armies.”
“You dare insult the armies of the pharaoh?” Crooked Nose steps forward, clutching the spear at his side, hunger to attack contorting his face. But he makes no move to assault me — for once — as no official word has been given.
I ignore the soldier. “They have an astonishing metal called bronze. It is tougher and cuts deeper than our copper. And an incredible bow, made of horn, wood, and sinew. Its lightness and advanced design help the arrows fly farther, their aim truer.” Some of the men still look skeptical, but a few are listening intently, including Pharaoh and Wujat, who are both probably wondering why the queen told them
I was dead. “Their axes can take off a man’s head with one blow. And they have a creature … they call it a horse. It runs as fast as Set’s winds and can transport men quickly across the sands.”
“Where stands Avaris?” Pharaoh calls over the clamour. “Do they support these rebels?”
“No, they do not,” a new voice says.
Pepi.
My eyes narrow at the Hyksos. So much for staying hidden.
“Who are you?” Pharaoh demands. Pepi’s bald head is an effective disguise. It still catches me off guard.
I quickly walk over to him. “A friend.”
Crooked Nose spits. “It is the spy from the pits. I guess we know how he escaped.”
“Sesha is right, I am a friend.” Pepi walks forward, hands raised to show he carries no weapons. Where did he appear from? He must teach me that trick. “We come to warn you, for the sake of your people, that you do not want to enter into conflict with mine. While those at Avaris are not presently inclined to attack, they may be convinced otherwise should you offend or anger them. Continue to honour these rulers with your tribute and we will continue to live peacefully in the delta, as we have done for many years.”
“Continue to pay tribute?” Crooked Nose bursts out. “You think we are afraid of your people?”
“You would have little sense if you were not,” Pepi says mildly. “Do not think that if we wanted Thebes, we would not take it.” The murmurings turn angrier at Pepi’s slight. “We have allies in the Kingdom of Kush and we hold the delta. Consider your tribute a tax for allowing you to govern from this city.”
The Desert Prince Page 21
