With a flare of his robe, the priest led the way out. The door slammed behind them.
Jake and the others stood up.
Marika clenched her hands together. “What are we going to do?”
As answer, Jake headed across the room. “We’re getting out of here. If the pharaoh is killed, they’ll lock down this whole place. We can’t be caught skulking about when word spreads that the guy was poisoned.”
Marika hurried after him. “But, Jake, we can’t just let them murder Nefertiti’s father. They’re going to make it look like she did it.”
“Nefertiti got us thrown into the dungeons,” Jake said impatiently. “Why should we help her?”
Pindor answered, his voice deep and angry. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”
Bach’uuk gave a sharp approving nod.
As Jake reached the door, he stared at his friends. He suspected Pindor’s sudden and uncharacteristic interest in risking his neck had more to do with Nefertiti’s painted eyes and slender figure than with doing the right thing.
Jake tried reasoning with them. “If we hope to get out of this town, we have to reach the Crooked Nail. This is not our fight.”
“So when has that ever stopped you?” Kady asked.
Clearly Jake was outnumbered. He looked to the last, and newest, member of their group for help. But the old man simply scratched his beard, studying Jake as if this were a test.
And maybe it was.
Marika touched the back of Jake’s hand. “You know how it feels to lose people you love. Will you do nothing when the same loss befalls Nefertiti? No matter her willfulness, she’s still just a girl who’s scared for her father.”
Jake knew Marika was right. They all were. He glanced across the hall to the mural, to his mother’s face. The shock of seeing her had set his heart to pounding and fired his desire to reach Ankh Tawy. He could not lose this chance to find a clue to his parents’ fate.
Still, in the flickering torchlight, his mother’s blue eyes stared back at him. He remembered how they used to dance with delight or fill with love. At that moment, one certainty swayed him more than any argument. Jake knew how disappointed his mother would be if he stood by and did nothing.
He turned back to the others. “Okay, we’ll go warn Nefertiti.”
He pictured them barging into her bedroom, babbling about the murder plot. It would likely get them all dumped back into the dungeons. Such a fate would certainly make Dogo happy.
But even before that could happen, one question remained. “How do we find the royal chambers in this giant maze?”
The old man spoke up. “I will show you.”
He headed back to the door, ready to lead the way.
Kady asked the question they were all thinking. She eyed the man up and down, clearly not trusting him. “How come you know where the royal chambers are?”
He gave them all a wink. “Because Pharaoh Neferhotep, the illustrious Glory of Ra … is my brother.”
19
SWEET DREAMS
“My name is Shaduf,” the old man said as he led them through a maze of passageways, slowly winding higher and higher up toward the loftier levels of the pyramid. “Master Kree took me to the dungeons two summers ago. I’ve been his guest ever since.”
He rubbed the bandaged stump of his wrist, indicating how well Kree had accommodated his guest.
“Shaduf,” the old man mumbled into his beard. “I’ve not spoken that name aloud in many moons. It was forbidden, lest the other prisoners should learn the truth. All of Ka-Tor believes I was killed. To keep that secret, Kree cut the throats of anyone who heard my name down there. So I stopped using it.”
Jake’s group gathered into a tight knot around Shaduf, both to hear his story and to stick close together. Whenever they passed anyone, conversation stopped and they all sank deeper into their cloaks.
“Why did he imprison you?” Jake asked.
Shaduf barked out a sharp laugh, laced with a mad twitter. “He came to me two winters past. Wanted me to join the Blood of Ka, to help oust my brother from his throne. He knew my brother and I butted heads. I wanted to unite our people, to cut the slave rings from all necks. But Neferhotep was never one to stray from a path well trodden.”
“Still, you refused to go along with Kree’s plot,” Marika said.
“Of course. My brother and I may disagree, but I would never harm him. Besides, I have no interest in being pharaoh. All that pomp, all those tedious laws and rules. Best left to someone like my brother.” Shaduf looked at them, his voice sharper with fury. “That bloody son of a harpy knew I would not take over, knew he’d get to rule if my brother fell; but he couldn’t do it himself. Kree needed a royal ally, someone with the blood lineage, if he was to succeed.”
“You,” Jake said.
“And when I refused, he kidnapped me, faked my death, and has kept me prisoner ever since.”
“Why didn’t he just kill you?” Pindor asked.
“Do not be fooled by his cruelty. He’s a smart one. I think he kept me alive in case he needed another piece for his grand game. But he also knew I had knowledge that no one else did. I was once a hunter of lost alchemies, digging through scraps of our past. My interest centered on stones of strange power.”
“Crystals,” Marika said.
He glanced sharply at her. “That’s correct. Sometimes the Great Wind would blow small shards from the city into the desert sands. I’d dug up dozens, some as large as my thumbnail.” He held up his stumped wrist. “That is, when I still had a thumb.”
Marika looked away. “He did that to you?”
“He had many questions that needed answers.”
“About what?” Jake asked.
“About my brother, my nieces, but mostly about that strange stone carried by his witch, Heka. You saw it, didn’t you?” He stared hard at Jake. Madness danced at the edges of his eyes. “A crystal darker than any shadow, but afire with evil.”
Jake nodded. The old man was talking about the bloodstone atop the witch’s yellow wand. Somehow the Skull King must have gotten that foul crystal through the storm barrier to stretch his deadly reach.
Shaduf continued, “The witch came out of the desert one day with no past, no face, only that black stone. With it, she helped Kree forge the Blood of Ka. But like I said, Kree is smart. He wanted to know more about that crystal … and about the other stones I’ve studied. If there’s power to be had, he wants it. So he kept me living to answer his questions.” He lifted his stump again. “It cost me fingers to keep my secrets.”
That edge of insanity burned brighter with memory of the torture.
“But I knew I only had so many fingers and toes. Eventually I began to tell. How could I not?” For a moment, he mumbled under his breath as if scolding and arguing with himself. Then his words steadied. “So I pretended to go mad, raving, pulling out my hair. It got them to stop asking questions, but I fear I have feigned madness for too long. I think it might have stuck.”
Marika placed a hand on his elbow. “I don’t believe it.”
Jake didn’t feel as confident.
When they climbed the last narrow staircase, a wide passageway decorated in rich tapestries opened ahead of them. The floors were covered in the petals of some desert rose, casting a sweet scent to the air.
Kady put her hands on her hips. “Let me guess. The royal quarters.”
Shaduf shushed her and hurried them forward past niches guarded by statues of Egyptian gods. “We’ve just climbed a private servant stair. The palace guards are not far off. We must move swiftly. The cover of our cloaks will not hide us up here.”
“Where are we going?” Jake asked.
“To Nefertiti’s rooms. If we hope to stop Kree’s plan, we will need her help.”
The old man guided them through an archway to a polished wooden door carved with hieroglyphics. He knocked softly. A sharp voice responded. The words were muffled, but the tone was all princess. A moment later the d
oor creaked open, and a tiny face peered out. It was a young girl, barely eight, probably a handmaiden.
From inside, a harsh call swept out. “I do not wish to be disturbed.”
Shaduf patted the child on the head and pulled the door wider. “Hurry in,” he ordered.
Happy to escape the open hall, Jake led his friends inside. The main room was lavishly decorated with fine cloths and heavily cushioned furniture, all done in royal purples with splashes of gold. A peek through a side door revealed a bedroom.
Ahead, framed before an open balcony facing the setting sun, stood a familiar figure dressed in a white-pleated dress with a red sash. Nefertiti had her back to them, twisting the end of her sash as she stared at the bird’s-eye view of the city far below. Sensing their presence, she swung around.
“I told you I don’t want—”
Her words cut off as she recognized the invaders. Her face struggled to understand, but she showed no fear. Her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks damp from tears. With her face scrubbed of paint, she looked fragile and real—but she still had a princess’s temper.
“Outlanders! How dare you trespass here?” She waved to her handmaiden. “Summon the guards!”
The child jumped to obey and collided with Shaduf’s legs. He caught her and held her gently. His eyes remained on Nefertiti. “Is that how you greet your uncle?”
Nefertiti wrinkled her nose in distaste at the sight of the old man. “My uncle is dead.”
He shrugged and stepped forward. “Not from lack of trying by Master Kree.”
She searched his face, ready to scoff again, but then her eyes widened in recognition. For once she showed true fear. A hand rose to her throat. Her eyes flicked to Jake.
“What manner of sorcery is this?”
Shaduf came forward, but Nefertiti backed toward the open balcony as if ready to hurl herself to her death. The old man held up his hand. “It is no sorcery. Believe me. Only the treachery of the Blood of Ka.”
She still looked unconvinced.
The old man sighed, sagging. “Child, I used to bounce you on my knee when your mother was still alive. I sang to you, and she played the flute. I taught you how to sharpen a spear and took you on your first hunt … against your father’s orders, as I recall. We both got a tongue-lashing after that.”
The fear slowly changed to a shining hope. “Uncle Shaduf …”
He held open his arms. After a moment’s hesitation, she rushed and hugged tightly to him, heavy beard and grime forgotten.
“How?” she mumbled into his chest.
“I will explain all. But your father’s in great danger.”
She straightened and stared up at him, distraught. “Then you heard. He’s fallen again into his great slumber. I only got to speak to him for a few breaths … and even then he was still half in dream, making no sense.” Her fingers tightened on Shaduf’s arms. “He showed great agitation, crying out whenever one of the Blood of Ka priests drew near to his bed. I knew something was wrong.”
Shaduf turned to Jake. “The snwn must have already given my brother the first draught of nightshadow.”
It took Jake a moment to understand. Snwn was the ancient Egyptian word for “doctor.” He pictured the painted man in the royal clothes. He wasn’t a servant but the royal physician.
“He will not wait long to give the second,” Shaduf warned.
Bach’uuk repeated the words they’d heard earlier. “Two draughts. Two will fall.”
“What are you talking about?” Nefertiti asked.
“Come. I will explain as we go.”
Nefertiti grabbed her sword from a tabletop as they headed out. Shaduf quickly explained everything as they rushed down the hall. As the plot became clear, fury sped her feet.
At the end of the hall stood a larger door banded in gold. Without knocking, Nefertiti shoved it open.
The pharaoh’s bed had been set up in the main room, facing the open balcony. Even with the warm breeze, the place smelled of unguents and acrid oils. A thin, pale-skinned man lay under a thin sheet. His body was skeletally thin, wasted to bone.
A young woman shot to her feet as they all barged inside. She had been kneeling at the bedside. She looked about frantically until she recognized Nefertiti.
“Sister, what is this commotion? You gave me a deathly fright.”
Though a few years older, the resemblance was unmistakable, even down to the same swollen red eyes. But she carried herself with more grace. Her hands and face were meticulously powdered white, her eyes thickly lined in black.
Jake searched the room. There was no sign of the doctor.
“Layla,” Nefertiti demanded, “where is Thutmose?”
Her sister shook her head, not understanding. “Gone. He said he had another elixir he believed would help Father. He would come back after the sun set.”
Jake turned to Nefertiti. “That must be when he plans on giving the second draught.”
“Who are these people?” Layla asked, her voice soft with worry. She definitely didn’t have the constitution of her younger sister.
Nefertiti looked at them, plainly unsure how to answer.
Pindor stepped in. Ever since seeing Nefertiti again, his spirits had brightened. “We’re friends,” he stammered out. “Right?”
He clearly wanted to be more than a friend.
“And we’re family,” Shaduf added, hobbling forward.
Once again the revelation unfolded, and Layla went from shock, to horror, to delight. And like her sister, she ended up in a warm embrace, leaning on her uncle as if a burden she’d been carrying could be shared.
The reunion was so touching, Marika slipped her hand into Jake’s. She squeezed his fingers, sharing in the joy.
But like Nefertiti, Layla was a princess. A slim vein of fury suddenly cracked through her heavy face powder and paint. “We must alert the royal guard. I’ll have Thutmose arrested immediately!”
“And Master Kree,” Nefertiti demanded with equal vehemence. “Along with the rest of his priests!”
Layla headed to the door. She pointed to her sister’s sword. “Keep Father protected.”
She flew out the door with the determination of a hunting hawk.
Shaduf crossed to the bed and stared sadly down at his brother. They had both suffered at the hands of Kree, but Jake knew the true master behind all of this cruelty.
Kalverum Rex.
The Skull King.
Nefertiti joined her uncle. “Will he ever wake?”
Shaduf put his good arm around her. “He will. If only to scold me for dying on him.” Again there was a mad hiccup, but the old man forced it back down.
Bach’uuk rose from the other side of the bed. He’d been down on his hands and knees. His deep-set eyes glowed at Jake from under his heavy brow. Something was wrong, but Bach’uuk did not want to speak it aloud.
Jake hurried to his side, trailed by Marika and Kady.
Bach’uuk drew them down to the floor and pointed under a bedside table. Resting on its side lay a teardrop-shaped black vial, empty now. Upon its dark glass surface, a powdery white fingerprint stood out.
Jake pictured the physician’s face. It had been painted red.
Kady figured it out, too. “Layla wears the same white shade of foundation.”
Jake trusted his sister’s assessment. When it came to makeup, she could distinguish the various shades of red lip gloss from a hundred paces.
He shot to his feet.
All eyes turned to him.
He pointed to the exit. “We have to get out of here! Now!”
As if on cue, the door crashed open. A knot of black-robed figures flooded into the room, followed by a wall of armored palace guards. They parted to reveal Master Kree.
Layla stood at his side, and his arm snaked around her waist.
Jake recalled Shaduf’s earlier story. For Kree’s plan to work, he needed someone with royal blood on his side. Apparently he’d found his someone.
Nefertiti’s sister yelled, “The outlanders have come to poison my father! Arrest them!”
Chaos ensued as the mass of men fell upon the group. Shaduf got knocked down immediately. Guards cornered Bach’uuk and Pindor. Jake heard Kady’s scream, but it was quickly muffled. Jake dragged Marika toward the bedroom, but one of the guards ripped her from his side.
A second later an ax came crashing toward his head. He dove into the bedroom as the blade smashed at his heels. He sprawled headlong on the floor—only to come nose to nose with Thutmose. The doctor lay there with a surprised expression fixed on his face, likely from the dagger in his back.
Clearly Kree was tying up loose ends.
Jake rolled back to his feet, only to collide into a hellcat with a sword. Nefertiti fought off a pair of guards. A third made a grab for her, but Jake blocked him with a chop to the wrist. He followed it with a rabbit kick to a kneecap. The man fell with a shocked cry, knocking into one of Nefertiti’s opponents. She used the advantage to stab the other through the shoulder.
As the two of them backed away, more huge men pushed into the bedchamber. Nefertiti and Jake were forced back to the private balcony.
“Now what?” Jake asked.
Nefertiti grabbed Jake by his cloak and rolled them both over the balcony railing and into open air. As they plunged, tangled together, Jake had one last thought.
Well, death is one way out of this mess.
20
CROOKED NAIL
Jake had forgotten one important detail. It rudely became apparent when his back struck stone, knocking the wind out of him. He’d just been thrown off the balcony of a pyramid, a structure with smoothly sloping sides.
Nefertiti landed on top of him. The sides of the pyramid were steep, too steep for Jake to stop himself. He slid headfirst down the slope as Nefertiti rode on top of him. Only his thick cloak kept his skin from being ripped off by the stone.
But for how long?
“Don’t move!” Nefertiti yelled.
She clutched fistfuls of his cloak and squirmed into a seated position on his chest. She began using her heels like brakes to guide their trajectory.
Jake Ransom and the Howling Sphinx Page 13
