Kiya and the God of Chaos

by Philippa Bower

  Chapter Fifty Nine: To Gesem.

  Despite Laylos’s fears of losing their way, they found a goat track that led to the cliff and wound down the cliff-face to the valley below. By mid morning, they had joined the road to Wadi el-Nakhla. Traffic was busy and several times Kiya had to step aside to allow huge limestone blocks to pass. They were on two-wheeled sledges drawn by three oxen pulling abreast and took up most of the narrow pathway. As they went by she could see coarse tool marks where the stones had been hacked from the mountain.

  They walked through the heat of the day and Kiya became increasingly tired and thirsty.

  “Look, that must be an inn,” said Laylos, pointing to a building at the side of the road where a couple of benches stood, shaded by a sycamore tree. “Let us stop, Huy.”

  “Very well,” said Huy. “I must admit that I am more than ready for a drink.”

  Laylos and Kiya sat on a bench, while Huy went inside to buy drinks. Down the road, in the distance, Kiya could see the wadi – a steep valley with many quarries cut into the mountains. At the foot of the valley were the mud-brick shacks of workers clustered on the strip of land between the wadi and the Nile. She looked at their destination more closely. There was a landing stage where a fisherman untangled his nets beside a moored boat.

  “If we hurry we can ask that fisherman to take us to Gesem,” she said to Laylos.

  “I would have preferred a good, sturdy ferry to that flimsy craft,” said Laylos. “But we must take what opportunities are given.” She studied the landing stage. “Thank Horus there is no sign of an assassin, Nefertiti has decided to leave us in peace.”

  “You are right,” said Kiya, for there was only a young boy, sitting on a mooring post and regarding the fisherman with bored disinterest. A couple passed by and Kiya saw the boy stiffen and focus his attention upon them. There was something predatory in the way he watched them pass and kept looking until they disappeared into one of the huts.

  Could he be the assassin? thought Kiya. Surely not. Yet her experience with Urshu had taught her to be wary of children. As she concentrated upon the boy she sensed the faint aroma of aniseed. With a chill of fear she realised that the child was no ordinary mortal but a god.

  Huy came out with a tray upon which were three goblets of beer and a plate of bread and cheese.

  “We cannot go down to the landing stage,” said Kiya.

  “Why not?” asked Huy, as he sat down on the bench between her and Laylos.

  “That child is an assassin.”

  Huy laughed. “That little froglet? I will soon see him off.”

  “No! I beg of you!” implored Kiya. “That is no boy but a god.”

  “A god? What nonsense.”

  “Believe her, Huy,” said Laylos. “The girl has an uncanny ability to sense immortals. We must think of a way of passing him without arousing his suspicion.”

  “The gods preserve me from superstitious women,” grunted Huy. “Very well, if you insist. But I am doing nothing until I have drunk this excellent beer. Here, darling, save this bread and cheese and we can eat it later.”

  Kiya watched Laylos take a piece of linen from her bag and wrap it around the food. Although her stomach was knotted with tension she managed to drink, knowing there may be a long wait before their next beer.

  “The so-called assassin will be looking for a young girl and her bodyguard,” said Huy. “Not a middle aged couple and their slave. I suggest we give all our luggage to Kiya to carry while we walk ahead with a swagger.” He downed the last of his beer and turned to Kiya. “You must try to look down-trodden, my girl.”

  “With all that to carry, looking down-trodden will not be hard,” said Kiya.

  “Good.” Huy took the tray back into the inn, while Kiya stood up and allowed her aunt to burden her. She carried a bag in each hand and had Huy’s load strapped to her back.

  “Don’t walk too fast,” Kiya said as Huy emerged from the building and offered Laylos his arm. “I can hardly move under this weight.”

  “No matter,” said Huy. “A lordly stroll should allay suspicion.”

  Kiya struggled after her aunt and uncle as they sauntered away from the inn. It seemed a back-breaking age before they reached the landing stage. She was aware of the boy’s eyes upon them and the smell of aniseed was chokingly strong. Tense with apprehension she stumbled and nearly fell, then hurried to catch up with the others. Let me not have aroused his suspicions, she prayed.

  The further they got from the landing stage, the more she relaxed until she was sure that they had escaped the boy. But Huy and Laylos ambled on until Kiya felt that she would collapse under her burden.

  At last Huy stopped. “We should be safe now,” he said.

  “Thank Horus for that!” said Kiya. She dropped the bags. “Will someone help get this load off my back, please?”

  “You did well, Kiya,” said Laylos as she untied the bindings.

  “The gods grant that I never become a slave!” said Kiya. She looked round and saw that they were beyond the village and hidden from the landing stage by a thicket of acacia bushes.

  Huy indicated the river where a number of fishermen were sailing their feluccas. “We must attract the attention of one of those boats.” He beckoned to the nearest.

  The fisherman ignored him, but one close-by responded. As it came closer Kiya could see that its owner was an elderly man with an ill-tempered face. “What do you want?” he demanded.

  “We would be grateful for a lift to Qato,” said Huy.

  “Gratitude never put food on the table,” said the man.

  “We would be happy to pay you, of course,” said Huy.

  “How much?”

  “Two copper rings,” said Huy.

  The old man scowled. “You want me to lose a day’s fishing for two copper rings?”

  “It is more than you would earn in a week, you miserable worm,” muttered Laylos under her breath.

  “I can make it three,” said Huy, “but not a gnat’s wing more.”

  “Very well,” said the old man, “But hurry up. I want to be away from the delta before nightfall.”

  Huy waded into the water and climbed onto the boat then he turned to help Laylos.

  “Look out! Ow! Try to hold that thing steady.” A protesting Laylos was hauled aboard with both men pulling on her arms and Kiya pushing from behind. She flopped onto the deck then rose to her feet and made her way to the stern causing the boat to wobble so violently that Kiya was nearly thrown back into the water as she scrambled aboard.

  “I ought to charge extra,” grumbled the old man. “I’ve almost done my back in trying to get that one on board.”

  “It’s not my fault that you are so old and useless,” retorted Laylos.

  “And it is not my fault you are so fat and clumsy,” said the old man.

  Kiya feared an argument but Laylos and the old man were invigorated by the exchange and settled down amicably. The felucca turned down river. As it did so it swung wide and the landing stage was once more in view. Out of the corner of her eye Kiya could see the boy leap to his feet and stare after them. She glanced in his direction and for a split second the child became an ugly dwarf. She blinked and he was once more a boy who glared at her with hatred in his eyes.

  Kiya turned away, feeling chilled. She had recognised Bes, the immortal dwarf with the strength to strangle a lion. What a fearsome protagonist! And where were Anubis and Hathor when she needed them? She watched the huge white sail of the felucca catch the wind and felt the surge of power as the boat sped towards Qato. Her godly friends were glib with their promises of support but so far it was only luck, the bravery of her companions and her ability to scent immortals that had kept her safe.