Kiya and the God of Chaos

by Philippa Bower

  Chapter Forty Three: The Attack

  Kiya was woken by the sound of shouting and laughter. Someone was singing a raucous tune with an obscene refrain. She tried to close her ears to the noisy bar and get back to sleep but, as she tossed and turned, the rough cord that held Dennu’s armlet around her neck chaffed her skin. Still drowsy, she took the armlet off and tucked it safely under the mattress. She was wondering if she would ever be able to sleep when she heard a strange sound.

  “Psst!” The noise was so gentle that it was almost lost in the din. Kiya sat up. “Psst!” Someone was at the window trying to get her attention.

  Kiya rose from the bed and crossed over to the window. Sabu was there, clinging to the sill. “You are in danger,” he said. “A man has come from Thebes telling of your wealth. They are hatching a plot to murder you and steal your money.”

  Kiya knew at once who the Theban must be – the man who spied on her at the Street of Goldsmiths. “What can I do?” she asked and looked round in desperation. The window was a mere slit, set high in the wall. It was much too small for her to get through. The only escape was via the bar, where her enemies were reaching a state of intoxication, ready to attack her.

  “Here, take these and jam them against the window.” Sabu pushed two sturdy sticks through the opening. They had ropes attached to them.

  Kiya turned them so they rested against the wall on either side of the window.

  “Now stand back and get ready to run,” he said.

  There was a creaking sound as the ropes were put under strain. A crack appeared in the wall. Kiya grabbed her bag and cloak then, as the wall collapsed, she ran.

  All around her bricks and roof timbers were falling. One timber grazed her shoulder, but she was through the wreckage and into the open. Behind her was the sound of shouts and curses.

  Kiya ran blindly into the night and heard Sabu yell, “This way.”

  She turned, and as she did so a throwing spear whistled past her ear and embedded itself into a tree.

  “We are here!” Dark shapes stood, barely visible against the blackness. She ran towards them. “Quickly, or they will kill us,” Sabu cried. He fled through the scrub, with the donkey running beside him.

  Kiya followed them, trying to dodge the thorny bushes and low-hanging branches. Terror made her oblivious to the bruises and scratching and soon the shouts were far behind them.

  They slowed to a walk and Kiya caught up with Sabu. “I fear that we have ruined the inn,” she said.

  “It serves that bastard inn-keeper right,” said Sabu. “He was as much in the plot as any of them. Thank Thoth you have an intelligent donkey. He understood what to do.”

  “Dear Enno,” said Kiya and gave the donkey a pat. “And many thanks to you too,” she said to Sabu. “Without your help I would be dead by now. But I am afraid your noble deed has cost you your job.”

  “There will be others,” said Sabu.

  “I can offer you employment as a bodyguard,” she said. “I will soon be going down to the delta area and it could be dangerous.”

  “Really?” He brightened. “I have always longed to travel. I swear I will serve you well, Mistress.”

  “Call me Kiya,” she said.

  He shook his head. “While I am in your employ I am your servant, Mistress. One day, perhaps, we may be equals but until then I will be suitably respectful.”

  “How much should I pay you?” said Kiya. “What do you earn at the moment?”

  “One copper ring a week, Mistress.”

  “Then I will pay you two,” said Kiya. She took two rings from her money belt and gave them to him.

  “Thank you. That is very generous,” he said. “May I suggest that you mount the donkey, Mistress, we still have a long way to go.”

  Kiya allowed him to help her onto the donkey and they continued at a brisk pace. She dozed and jerked awake, several times, always to find Sabu leading Enno steadily through the darkness. It was not until day break that Kiya, with a sinking heart, realised she had left Dennu’s armlet at the inn.

  In the red, dawn light Kiya looked at her arms, there were a few superficial scratches and, where the roofing timber had hit her, a bruise was already developing. A band of pale skin on her upper arm marked the place where she usually wore Dennu’s armlet. She had a wild urge to return to the inn and retrieve her lost possession, but such an action would mean facing her attackers. She looked gratefully at Sabu, who was walking ahead holding the donkey’s rope. Without his intervention she would certainly have been killed.

  The landscape changed. The Nile ran more closely to the cliffs and a narrow strip of scrubland lay on both sides of the road. The land was too high to be fertilised by the river’s floodwater and Kiya saw that farming would be impossible on the dusty soil. She watched a nomad boy with a herd of goats make his way over the boulders at the base of the escarpment as nimbly as any of his charges. Behind him she saw a narrow path zigzagging up the cliff and wondered if he and his animals had made the perilous descent.

  A fishing village lay ahead and, as they drew near, Kiya smelled the scent of baking bread. The delicious aroma made her feel hungry and she looked out for a shop as they passed by. There was no sign of a bakery, nor anyone they could ask.

  “It must be time for breakfast,” she called out to Sabu.

  He did not pause, but continued to lead the donkey away from the village. “It would be dangerous to stop. Mistress. We may still be pursued.”

  Kiya searched in her bag and found the remains of yesterday’s lunch – a honey cake and a handful of dates. “At least let us halt long enough to pour ourselves a drink from the cask,” she said.

  Sabu stopped and helped her dismount from the donkey, which she did with some difficulty.

  “Ouch, My limbs feel as stiff as a mummy,” she said. “Give me your cup, Sabu.”

  Sabu unhooked his cup from his belt and handed it to her. Kiya filled it with beer.

  “Here, have some food,” she said and gave him half her cake and a few dates.

  “Thank you, Mistress.” He ate and drank swiftly, while she found a cup in her bag and poured herself a beer. “I suggest that you remount the donkey so we can continue,” he said. There was an urgency in his voice and Kiya knew that he feared those who followed. She allowed him to help her remount, without protest, and she finished her meagre breakfast while riding.

  As the morning progressed the road became busy. Kiya saw a team of ox carts approaching and she stiffened, but they passed without incident. At lunch time, Sabu allowed her to stop at a roadside stall and buy bread and cheese. He was more relaxed now there were people about and made no protest when she suggested they should sit on a nearby boulder to eat and drink.

  “I think I might walk now,” said Kiya, after they had finished their meal. “It cannot be much further to Akhetaten and I must stretch my legs or they will get cramp.”

  “Very well, Mistress.”

  Kiya walked beside Sabu as he led the donkey. He maintained a good pace and she did not try to talk as her energies were concentrated on keeping up with him.

  By mid afternoon Kiya was tiring. She struggled to keep up with Sabu as they rounded an escarpment and saw a horde of workers digging ditches, making bricks and working on buildings. Everywhere were tents so it looked like the encampment of a huge army.

  “Is this it?” she asked Sabu, who had stopped to admire the view.

  “Yes, Mistress. Welcome to the new city of Akhetaten!”