by Scott Peters
Music drifted from up ahead. A small band had taken up residence along the side of the street. They pounded on drums, plucked lutes, and sang about the war in Hyksos. People had stopped, and some were kicking up their heels to dance. Zet thought of his father, away fighting, and his heart swelled hearing the song.
Perfumed incense drifted thick on the morning air. He had to push now to keep the cart in sight. Men and women were approaching the bakers, trying to barter for a loaf. It was slow going. Still, he'd have to be quick.
Then he saw his chance. A dead end alley, unguarded, opened to his right. He slipped down it, blending into the dark shadows. Without pause, he ran for the farthest wall. The stones were rough, pressed into mud. His fingers and toes found handholds, and he scrambled upward. When he reached the rooftop, he bent low and sprinted over the loose tiles to the far side.
The street below was full of people, all moving toward the broader avenue he'd left behind. He glanced right and left, and saw he'd have to travel further along the roof to get a clear spot to drop back down. He climbed up another story onto a high patio full of potted plants. He had to sprint across half a dozen private terraces before he found a quiet place to climb down.
Silence met him. He recognized the lane. Usually full of people, today it was still as a Pharaoh's tomb. He ran onward. He ran until he was breathless.
He gasped in triumph when his familiar market square opened before him.
Everything was bound up tight. It was strange to see it so still.
"I hope you don't kill me for this, Geb," he said as he hurried to the herb vendor's stall. With a glance both ways, he got down on hands and knees and crawled under the tightly wrapped stall covers. It was dark, and he had to squint to see. The smells of cumin and cardamom, cinnamon and myrrh bombarded him in the confined space. It was heady and overpowering, jarring his senses to life.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Demon Boy
Head spinning, Zet waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
The colored pyramids of herbs and spices, flours, clothing dye and crushed incense came slowly into focus. He crawled forward. A clay urn leaned up against a wood pillar. The outside was cool and damp to the touch. He pulled the cork and sniffed. Cooking oil. And, thank the gods, it was full.
He poured some slick oil out, coating himself by the handful as best he could.
"I promise, I'll repay you Geb, wherever you are," he muttered, as he reached for the flour. Then he dumped some over his head.
Next came streaks of bright blue woad, yellow cumin, and crushed red madder root. He crisscrossed his face, arms and legs with crazy, bright marks. Then it was time to go.
He only hoped he could cut off the cart on time.
After slipping out, he went to his own stall and found a length of old linen, worn paper-thin. Once folded, it made a half decent robe. Well-covered, he headed into the maze of deserted streets.
Birds dozed on the hot stones. They flew up in annoyance as he ran past.
Zet cut left and right, weaving his way closer and closer to the broad road that lead to the Avenue of the Sphinx. The sounds of the crowd grew louder. People shouting, laughing, singing.
He was nearly there.
Ahead, a medjay stood with his back to Zet, watching over the crowd.
Zet paused.
If he'd timed it right, the cart should be passing soon.
Several tense moments went by.
No cart.
What if he'd missed it? Sweat poured down his sides. Should he stay? Should he wait? Should he run ahead? His stomach clenched as his mind tore him in opposite directions.
Then, as if by a miracle, the cart wheeled into view. Kissa and Kakra were red-faced with the heat and the effort of maneuvering through the people. Snaggletooth and his henchman still tracked them, several paces behind. Under his makeshift robe, Zet started to sweat. The sackcloth tunic felt like a thousand nails scratching at him. He went to wipe his brow, but stopped himself. It would be no good ruining all that crazy paint. Instead he let it drip, stinging his eyes.
Time to go.
Just as he started forward, Kissa stumbled. Snaggletooth gave up pretending to be separate from the women. He strode forward and took up one of the cart handles. The other henchmen motioned Kakra aside, and took up the other.
Zet groaned at this unexpected development. Still, he slid past the medjay, who took no notice. There were too many other distractions to keep an eye on.
Zet shoved forward into the crowd.
People propelled him past, just to get him out from underfoot.
The cart came up quickly.
Only four people separated Zet from Snaggletooth. The thug pushed onward, deftly maneuvering the cart with its pyramid-shaped mound of bread.
With a shout, Zet threw off his robe. He leapt into the air, screaming in a high-pitched yowl. Like a demon, he tore at his hair. Eyes wild, he threw his arms around. Shouted. Howled. Screamed.
People fell back in shock.
In the heat, the oil had mixed with his sweat, and the streaks of color melted down his face, arms and legs. The scratchy burlap sack made him look even more crazed. Judging from their faces, he looked like a fiend straight from the underworld.
"The demon!" a woman screamed. "It's the demon!"
"Run!" shouted another.
"We're trapped!" shouted a third.
Zet rushed this way and that, flinging his arms around, clearing a path to the cart. Only the four people guarding the bread stood their ground. Snaggletooth dove for Zet, but Zet was faster. He circled around the other side of the wheels. The henchman met him there with a swing of his deadly club.
Zet darted left. The club smashed into the cart's side. The cart shuddered under the impact. Zet skirted past the man. Kakra lunged forward, arms outstretched. Her arms closed around air as Zet jumped onto the wooden contraption. He landed on the pyramid of bread, sending loaves scattering.
"Get him!" Kakra screeched, her eyes wide with fear.
Kissa fell back, her puckered scar red against her frightened face.
Snaggletooth grimaced. The huge man snatched Zet's ankle. Meaty fingers took hold of Zet's oiled skin. Zet wrenched backward, and his oily foot slid free. He scrabbled left, and saw the club coming down. More loaves scattered as he dodged the club's blow.
"Get him!" the crowd was screaming.
"Help!" shouted others. "Help, medjay!"
"Come here, boy," Snaggletooth growled.
Zet scrabbled backwards to the far end of the cart, keeping his eyes on the weapons. Someone shoved him hard. Kakra. He flew forward.
As if in slow motion, he saw Snaggletooth's sword chop down. Desperate to stop himself, Zet plunged his hands deep into the mound of bread. He landed belly first, eye-to-eye with cold, hard steel. But under his fingers, he felt something strange.
Not bread. Something warm and soft and covered in fabric.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jewels
Zet somersaulted backward. Snaggletooth's blade hissed past.
"There's nowhere to go, boy," Snaggletooth hissed.
"Get down from the cart," Kakra said.
The crowd had gone quiet, watching the strange spectacle.
Zet turned slowly. He could kick the bread away and reveal what lay in the bottom of the cart, if what lay there was who he thought it was. But the sides came up too high. Only the top loaves would fall away, and the bottom would still be covered. There was only one thing to do. He hoped he guessed right!
"Beware!" he shouted. "This cart is cursed!" Then he grabbed a loaf and tore the bread in half.
It was empty.
Some people laughed, nervously.
The four lunged for him. He kicked and bit and got his hands around another loaf. Zet tore it open. Empty again!
The henchman landed a glancing blow against Zet's leg with his club. Nails scraped down his shin. If it had been any closer, it would have broken Zet's leg. He was startin
g to tire. Desperate, he got his hands on another loaf. His fingers were so greasy with sweat and oil that it flew free.
He took up a fourth one. A long, oddly shaped one.
It was heavy.
Very heavy.
He jumped down from the cart, dodging past Kakra. But Kakra caught him. She got her gnarled fingers around the loaf. Zet wouldn't let go. Their eyes met. Hers were enraged.
Zet wedged his fingers down through the crust.
He felt the bread tear.
Kakra tried to hold it together. "Stop it!" she gasped.
In one swift yank, he ripped the bread in two.
From the center, a large golden collar, glittering with precious gems, fell to the paving stones. Zet dove for it. He raised it, victorious, high above his head.
"It's full of stolen jewels!" he told the crowd.
"The demon turned bread into jewels!" someone shouted.
"There are jewels hidden in the bread!" shouted another.
Frenzied, people pushed forward and started pulling the loaves from the cart and tearing them open. Gold pieces were held high in triumph.
"I found one, too!" shouted someone.
"Look at mine! It's a festival trick!"
Snaggletooth, his henchman, and the twins, watched in horror. They started running this way and that, trying to recover the treasure. The looting went on; people grew wild. They shouted and cheered, like it was the best party trick ever.
Then, a woman next to the cart screamed.
She clutched at her chest, looking down into the depths of it, and kept screaming.
Zet felt sick. He knew what that scream meant.
Still, he had to see, had to know for himself.
Medjay approached from all avenues, weapons raised. Trying to control the chaos.
"Put down the jewels!" the nearest medjay bellowed. "All of you! I order you to put down the jewels."
Zet ignored them. He pushed his way forward. He shoved people out of the way. He didn't care about the lost jewels. He didn't care that Snaggletooth and the others were clearing off, dispersing, leaving. Getting away.
He stumbled ahead, as if in a daze.
Then his hands were on the sturdy wooden sides of the cart. He looked down into it. Most of the bread had been removed, but a layer still covered the bottom. At the far end, the tips of two small bare feet jutted up between two loaves.
"Get away from the cart," bellowed the nearest medjay.
Zet threw himself into it anyway. He started up at the top end where it was deeper. He tossed loaves out, left and right, wild, desperate. Made a hole. His head was spinning in terror. He pulled two clear, and suddenly he was looking down into the face of his best friend.
Hui's mouth was bound with a thick, wadded strip of cloth.
But his eyes were wide open. Staring.
He was dead. It was too late. Zet thought of Hui's mother Delilah, with her curls and ready smile. His heart clenched, and he let out a muffled cry of despair. How could this be? It wasn't fair. Not Hui. Not his best friend.
"Hui," Zet said. "No."
Then, as if by a miracle, Hui's eyes blinked.
They opened slowly. Hui looked confused, groggy. He focused on Zet and registered disbelief. Then his eyes crinkled into a grin.
From behind, the medjay grabbed Zet by his burlap tunic. "I told you to . . . what's this?" he gasped, staring down at Hui.
"Help me get him out," Zet said.
It was the doorman from the night before! Together, he and Zet tossed away the last of the bread. Hui's arms and legs were bound tightly to his side. The medjay whipped out his blade and cut the bindings free.
Hui winced and lurched upright, looking left and right. "Where are they? Don't let them get away!"
"You mean these four?" a medjay said. He and several officers hauled Snaggletooth, his henchman, and the baker twins forward.
"We're innocent!" Kakra cried. "I didn't know the boy was in there."
"Explain that to the courts."
"We were just following orders!" she said.
"Some orders!" Hui said with a laugh, leaping out of the cart to stand beside his best friend.
Snaggletooth said nothing. He knew he'd been beaten. Half of Thebes had witnessed him trying to cut Zet into pieces.
A man with a polished breastplate strode toward them. Merimose.
"Zet? Is that you under all that paint? What's going on?"
"Long story," Zet said, and quickly filled him in.
Hui rubbed his wrists. "The coast isn't clear. We still need to stop Kemet."
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kemet
Merimose turned to Kakra. "Where were you taking this cart?"
Kakra glared at him and said nothing.
Then Kissa spoke up. "To a boat."
"Stop it," Kakra snarled at her twin sister.
"No, Kakra, I won't hold my tongue any longer." Her cheeks were flushed. "I blame myself for letting it go this far. But I won't be a part of it any longer!" To Merimose, she said, "We were taking it to Kemet's boat on the Nile. It has red and gold sails, and is docked at the farthest end of the Avenue of the Sphinx."
"Show us."
"They'll have lookouts posted," Kissa said. "They'll bolt if they see medjay coming."
The officers, Zet and Hui stood there, stumped.
Zet spoke up. "I have an idea."
And so, three big medjay piled into the cart and lay on the bottom. Over them, Zet, Hui and Merimose repacked the cart with as many loaves as they could gather.
"You six," Merimose said, retrieve whatever jewels from the crowd you can. "The rest of you, fan out down the side streets and make your way to the end of the Avenue of the Sphinx. Hang back in the shadows until I give the signal."
"What about these two?" asked the medjay Zet had met the night before.
"Secure them, and take them to the station." Merimose turned to the sisters. "Kissa and Kakra, you'll push the cart to the boat. Just like you're supposed to."
Kakra glared at her twin sister. Kissa glared back.
"And don't try anything funny," Merimose said.
And so, the procession started up once again.
The Avenue of the Sphinx gleamed up ahead, its statues polished white in the hot sunshine. Meanwhile, the crowd went back to enjoying the festival. Vendors selling every type of sweetmeat lined the road, shouting and calling out to people. Thebans pushed and shoved, intent on getting to the chariot race.
Bordering the broad Avenue of the Sphinx, the Nile glimmered. Ahead, boats bobbed in the smooth band of water.
The group followed the bread cart away from the action.
A big hand clamped around Zet's forearm. Zet jumped.
"It's just me," Merimose said. "Stay back. I don't want you seen."
"I don't think they'll recognize me like this," Zet said.
"It's too dangerous."
Zet and Hui exchanged a glance. No way were they staying back. Still, Zet nodded. He and Hui let the others get ahead.
"We'll just keep low, right?" Zet said.
"Right," Hui agreed.
They crept forward, using the crowd as cover. But as the crowd thinned, that became more and more difficult.
Hui put a hand on Zet's arm. "Look, the red and gold sail!"
They ducked behind a stone sphinx and watched the baker twins push the cart closer. On board the boat, a curtain flickered. No one, however, stepped out onto the deck.
"They suspect something," Zet said.
Then a boy appeared. He started to untie the ropes. They were preparing to cast off! They were going to get away!
"Why doesn't Merimose do something?" Hui said.
"How? He can't search Kemet without proof of wrongdoing! Kemet has no stolen jewels on board either. He can deny it all! He can say he didn't know what was going on!"
"I'll get them out of there," Hui said. Then, in a perfect imitation of Snaggletooth, he called out, "Kemet!"
Nothing happe
ned for a moment.
Kissa spoke up, and called, "We've brought your bread, Kemet!"
A hatch opened, and someone came on deck. It was Kemet himself. The hobbled man hurried over the boards to the rail. He looked angry.
"You're late," he called the bakers. "I thought something was wrong."
"We had some trouble," Kissa said.
"But it's all there?"
"All of it," Kissa said.
Merimose raised the whistle that hung around his neck and blew. Sharp, short and loud. Instantly, bread loaves flew everywhere. The medjay leaped out of the cart. They swarmed on board, while others swarmed out of side streets and joined them.
Kemet had given them all the proof they needed.
Kemet and his band were done.
The crooked jeweler glanced down and saw Zet and Hui on the wharf. His face darkened. He looked ready to hiss curses at them. But as Merimose bound Kemet's wrists, the jeweler's shoulders sagged. His reign as a powerful smuggler had come to a bitter end.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
All Is Well
"Do you realize how great it is to be standing out here?" Hui cried. "I'm a free kid again!"
Zet nodded. All would have been well, if only their mother was home safe.
And then, from the corner of his eye, he saw someone waving from an approaching boat. The boat was tiny, barely large enough to fit the three people seated in it. And it was piled high with pottery.
"Zet?" cried his mother. "Is that you?"
The relief at seeing her and Apu was so overwhelming that tears stung his eyes. At least no one could tell, between the sweat and the crazy face paint!
It was only moments before he and Hui were helping her on shore, and hearing how the potters' delivery boat had sprouted a hole, and how strange things had been going on in the village itself.
"The family who usually does the orders has left the village, and no one knows why," she said. "But I was able to find someone else to do the work. It was all very last minute. And finding the boat wasn't easy! But we need to get these orders delivered, and fast."
