Half Ear sneered at Kepi. Then he shrugged. He looked at Menes. “Go ahead. Bring back something for the girl, and it’ll be our turn.”
Kepi put Babu under Nanny, where he quickly latched onto a teat and nursed. She filled a bucket with river water and set it in front of Nanny, who, she had learned, liked to drink while Babu was nursing.
Menes was watching her, and Kepi knew it. She looked at him. He gave a small smile. Then he left.
No sooner had he disappeared down an alley than Half Ear grabbed Kepi from behind and clapped a hand over her mouth. She struggled, but he twisted her arm up behind her till she had to stand on tiptoe, and still it hurt so bad, she was screaming inside her heart. She tried not to move in the least, because every movement made the pain that much more excruciating.
“Listen, men. The gods protect this girl, not the baboon. And we don’t need her. A slave is worth nothing compared to a baboon. We’ll trade for plenty from whatever temple takes him. She’s nothing but trouble. I say we get rid of her.”
Rid of her? Kepi felt woozy.
“Come on, Ptah. Menes won’t like that.”
Ptah. Horrible Half Ear had a regular name. Kepi wished she didn’t know that. She hated him right now. It was like Father’s proverb—she’d had her eye on the snake, and she’d missed the scorpion altogether.
“Yeah. Menes said we’re not to hurt her. That’s what he said, right at the start.”
Menes said that? Kepi blinked. Really?
“And right at the start I said she’d be trouble, remember? I was right. Menes doesn’t know anything. Besides, he won’t be part of it. We’ll do it and leave right now.”
“Without him?”
“Yeah, without him! He’s the one who got us into this mess.”
“We can’t travel on the river at night.”
“If we row hard enough, we won’t have to. We can make it to Waset before dark.”
“You’re right.”
“Wait. I don’t want to have any part in killing the girl.”
Killing? Kepi’s knees buckled.
“Me neither. What do you think the god Set would do if we killed his girl?”
“Then we’ll dump her somewhere alive. No one has a problem with that, right?”
“I don’t know.”
“I guess not.”
“Throw that empty basket over the goat and the baboon, fast.”
A man turned Kepi’s giant basket upside down and closed in Nanny and Babu.
“Now get me some rope and a cloth.”
Another man hurried over with a strip of cloth.
Ptah took his hand off Kepi’s mouth to reach for the cloth, and she screamed. Something hit the back of her head, hard.
Chapter 19
Ditched
Kepi opened her eyes. It was dark, and she was lying on cold ground. She lifted her head to sit up and clunk! She fell back. Her forehead hurt. And now the back of her head really hurt—far worse than her forehead. She was under something. And her hands were tied behind her. And there was a gag in her mouth.
And now she remembered what had happened. They’d ditched her.
Wherever she was, she had to get out of here fast. She rolled onto her side. Her shoulder touched what was above her: stone. Homes and stores were made of mud bricks. Nothing was made of stone except a temple. Oh, no!
Forgive me, god or goddess, prayed Kepi inside her heart, whatever god or goddess you are, forgive me for coming into your home. Ordinary people like me are not invited. I know that. I didn’t come on my own. I was placed here by bad men. Forgive me. I will leave as fast as I can. With your help, of course. Thank you for understanding.
“You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s all right.” The voice was real. And soothing.
Kepi waited, but no more words came. So she rolled again. She was quickly out from under the thing. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light of early evening. She had been under a bench. And the side of it was inscribed. She managed to sit up and then stand. It was hard to do without the use of her hands.
There was no one there; no one who belonged to that voice. Kepi didn’t expect there would be.
This was a small chamber, not a temple at all. And the walls were made of mud brick, not stone. Only the inscribed bench was stone. There was a hole in one wall, and a door in another. Kepi peeked through the hole. She could make out a statue inside painted blue and red and gold. What? This was a rich person’s mastaba—a burial tomb. And the ka of that person lived in the statue. Kepi bowed in respect. She slowly backed away and out the door. On the sides of and above the door were stone slabs with more inscriptions and pictures in bright colors. Kepi couldn’t read, but she could tell from the pictures that the deceased must have enjoyed fishing and having women dance before him. From one picture, she guessed he was probably the overseer of a building project. Maybe even a temple. And he must have worshipped a bull-headed god. He was a big eater, too: the walls had carvings of all the foods he wanted in the afterlife.
She turned and walked as quickly as she dared down the closest street. She had to be careful, though, because she couldn’t risk tripping or she’d fall flat on her face with her hands tied behind her like that. Shops had closed for the evening, and families were asleep. A dog barked as she walked past one home. That set up barking from lots of dogs in nearby homes. In the far distance, jackals howled back. Jackals. Even without the howling, it felt creepy to be out so late all alone. But that eerie noise made her frantic.
She couldn’t stop herself from running now. She headed straight for the first open door she saw and went inside.
Men sat in pairs at tables here and there, playing a game on multicolored boards. One player moved ivory pieces around a board, and the other moved ebony ones. The air smelled strongly of beer.
Kepi stood inside the doorway and looked from man to man. One of them was missing a leg. Had a chunk of rock fallen on him, like the one that had fallen on Kepi’s father? It must have been huge, to kill his whole leg. Maybe he had worked for Pharaoh Khufu on the pyramid, too, and maybe he’d gotten no help either. He was just as bad off as Father.
“What have we here?” A smiling man came up. His face was weather lined. He must have been old. “A little wild thing. You won’t bite me if I take that gag off you, will you?”
Kepi shook her head.
The man untied her gag.
“They stole my baboon.” The words burst out of her. “And the goat.”
“Unusual words from an unusual critter,” said the old man.
Right. Kepi had better talk sensibly. It was important these men believe her so they’d help her. She had to catch up with that trade boat. Babu was on it. And so was the silver piece that she’d taken from the chest. She’d hidden it between ropes at the base of the mast. That silver piece was her only way to trade for passage home after she talked to the pharaoh. “I need help. Please untie my hands.”
The old man untied Kepi’s hands. “I’ll walk you home now, little beggar.”
“I’m not a beggar. And you can’t walk me home.” Kepi’s bottom lip trembled, but she fought off tears. “I live way down south. Near Wetjeset-Hor.”
The old man looked around. “Anyone know where that is?”
“I do,” said a man with a shaved head. “It’s days and days south of here.”
The old man frowned. “How did you get here, girlie?”
“I was . . .” She was about to say stolen, but then the men might decide to send her home rather than helping her get back on the boat. “. . . given a ride by men in a boat. But then they hit me on the head and tied me up and left me . . .” She didn’t want to tell them about the mastaba, in case they got angry at her. “ . . . and left me on the ground. They took the boat away, with my baboon and a goat. She’s not my goat, but she’s not really theirs either. They’re not even nice to her.”
“Seems there’s a whole lot of stealing going on these days,” said a man near the rear. “And a whole lot
of strange talk about baboons.”
“Did someone else talk about baboons?” asked Kepi, all at once hopeful.
“A drunk down at the dock.”
It had to be Menes. He would want to catch up to the trade boat just as much as Kepi did. He was her best chance. Kepi blinked. “Which way’s the dock?”
“Now now, we won’t let you go running off to the dock,” said the old man. “That dock’s no place for a—”
But Kepi was already out the door. She ran straight down the street till it ended and she had to turn. Randomly, she turned right and ran and ran and ran. Finally the buildings ended and the road stopped. She was at the very edge of town, and she still couldn’t see the river. The river was to the west, she knew that much. But she didn’t know how to tell which way was west from the night sky. She’d only been out at night with Father, and always in the hot months. And that’s when it was light out a little longer, so she rarely was awake long enough to see the full range of lights in the sky. The lights grouped in different places this time of year, anyway.
She remembered the jackals howling. Lions could be out there, too. And leopards. She had to think straight. There must be a way to figure out which road led to the docks.
But she obviously couldn’t think straight, because no solution came to her. All right, then, she would just walk back to the first street cutting off this one and take it all the way to the end, and if that didn’t work, then the second street, and so on. And that’s what she did. Moonlight guided her steps; she never fell, not once.
It was the middle of the night before Kepi came out on the docks. At last: There was Menes, sprawled on the ground and reeking of beer. She stood over him a moment. He looked pitiful and almost small, all out in the open like this. But he also looked kind of sweet. Or maybe that was just because a strong feeling of tenderness had come over her. This man had problems with his thinking. He had intended to sell her as a slave—so there was a hole in his heart. But at the same time, she now knew he’d looked out for her with the crew. In his own odd way, he might very well be a friend. And right now he was the only friend she had. She might be the only friend he had, too.
There was no point waking him; travel on the river was impossible at night. And the way his mouth hung open, she didn’t think he was wakeable, anyway.
Kepi sat up against Menes and looked at the vast sky. At least she could fall asleep watching the distant lights, like she always did back home. A sharp pang of longing for home made her whole body hurt. She could hardly bear to think about Father and Mother and Nanu. They must worry about her all the time.
The stars were exceptionally glorious right then, twinkling and shimmering in a big swath from one horizon to the other. On a night like this, Nanu and Kepi would have basked in the glory of the sky and sung together till one of them dozed off. Had Nanu watched these stars tonight and fallen asleep wondering where her little sister was, whether she was even alive? Did she cry? Did they all cry?
Kepi was crying now. She would get home. She had a job to do in Ineb Hedj first. An important job. The sight of that man with the missing leg in the game hall had reminded her how important it was. But as soon as she’d done it, she would get back to her family. Fast.
Disappearance was brutal. Maybe more brutal than knowing something awful had happened to someone. She wouldn’t leave her family wondering forever.
The families of those men who had died today, they’d suffer from their disappearance. They’d wonder forever. Kepi could almost hear their wailing in her heart. She was very sad for them.
And she was sad for herself: Babu was gone. Loss made every part of her ache. Kepi stared up at the sky. Please, whatever god is watching me, please make the crew treat Babu and Nanny well.
The sliver of moonlight was delicate and kind. “I will,” came the gentle voice, the same voice she’d heard when she was in the mastaba.
And she almost expected it. Life had become so much confusion, but one little part made sense now: The gods really did watch and listen. They talked to her. And they came in the form of animals. “You helped me find Menes, didn’t you?” Kepi whispered. “You made the alleys light up, even though there’s hardly a moon at all tonight. You lit my way. Thank you, great goddess Hathor.”
Despite how sick and sad Kepi felt, determination blanketed her. She would make it to Ineb Hedj. And she’d get Menes to help her. Then she’d go home and never leave her family again.
Chapter 20
Insults
“What?” Someone yanked on Kepi’s arm. She opened her eyes with difficulty—it had taken her a long time to fall asleep—and looked up into the gawking face of Menes, leaning over her. “You’re here? You’re here!” He danced in a circle, shaking his fists at the sky, while she managed to sit up. “Hurrah!” And he stopped. He leaned over again and clapped her on the back. “So where’s the baboon?”
“They stole him.”
Menes’s eyes widened and his fingers tightened around Kepi’s shoulder. “How could you let them do that?”
“I didn’t let them. And don’t yell at me. You let them, too.”
Menes dropped down on the ground beside her. He cupped his forehead in his hands and rocked his head, as though it was as heavy as a boulder.
Babu was gone and Kepi was hungry and she felt all strange and nothing was right. “We should find a family to take us in for a while.”
“Don’t be absurd. We can’t waste time here.”
Kepi didn’t want to waste time either. But she felt so sick. “I’ll pray to the gods.”
“You little faker. The gods didn’t help you. You just took advantage of the moment to get your freedom from the basket.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh, yeah? If the gods protected you, how come you wound up in our boat to start with, huh?”
Kepi turned her head away. It was true. The gods had let the men steal her. But she was sure things had changed. She was close to the gods now. They had to care about her, too. It was impossible not to care about someone who cared about you.
“It doesn’t make sense,” said Menes. “And you know it as well as I do. Some god may have sent that crazy croc and that crazy hippo. But whatever god it was, he sure wasn’t looking out for you. I’m not stupid.”
Gods could be mysterious—everyone knew that. Just because she didn’t understand, just because Menes didn’t understand, didn’t mean that the gods weren’t with her. Kepi squared her jaw at him. “You got left behind. You look stupid to me.”
Menes glared at her. “I don’t take well to insults. And I just had a very bad night. So, little tempest, you’re on your own.” He stood up and brushed himself off. “That’s my baboon. I’m going after them.” He walked up the street toward town.
Kepi jumped to her feet. “Wait! I’m coming with you!” But Menes turned a corner. He was out of sight already. Kepi gulped. Then fury hit her. She couldn’t believe Menes had called Babu his baboon. He really was awful. Let him go.
Kepi wiped her nose, which was running. Her throat was sore, too. She’d caught a cold overnight. A cold, on top of being sick from the basket. At least on the boat Nanny and Babu and Kepi had kept each other warm as they slept; nothing had warmed her last night. Every time she had snuggled against Menes, he had groaned and rolled away.
She looked down at herself. Her dress was dirty. No, it was worse than that. It was filthy. Mother would have been ashamed. She kept her family immaculately clean, as any Egyptian mother did. Kepi’s stomach cramped from emptiness. The morning chill hadn’t burned off yet; she shivered. She rubbed at her nose again. Now her hand was revoltingly snotty. She wiped it on her dress. What did it matter? She was quickly becoming a slimy mess.
Kepi cried.
When her tears finally seemed to run out, she washed her face in the river. Hunger seized her. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. She couldn’t wait for Menes to come back; she had better go find him. Somehow he always had food.
She leaned into an open door. A woman was cleaning tables with a cloth. It was an eating hall. Maybe if Kepi looked pathetic enough, this woman would have pity on her and give her a crust of bread, at least. “Excuse me, please.” Kepi used her sweetest voice. “I’m . . . I’m sort of lost. I mean, I lost my food satchel.”
The woman turned, took one look at Kepi, and gasped. She ran at her and snapped the cloth in her face. “Get out of here. Go, before I sic a dog on you.”
Kepi backed out and walked to the corner. She turned right and staggered.
Dizziness made her rest against a wall and lean over. The area behind her eyes hurt now. And the area between her eyes. She wasn’t chilly anymore. She was hot. That was how colds were—they got worse fast.
Kepi walked as fast as she could manage to the dock. Menes had to come back there soon. He’d take care of her.
The dock had transformed since she’d woken up. All the fishing boats had gone out. Only two little reed boats were tied there, side by side. Both were empty. Exhaustion overcame Kepi. She climbed into a boat and stretched out on the bottom. She closed her eyes against the rude sun. The bobbing of the boat on the water soothed her. She fought to stay awake.
“All right, then” came a voice, soon enough. “It’s a deal.”
Kepi opened her eyes and pushed herself up to sitting. Menes was climbing into the reed boat beside the one she was in. A man stood on the dock and handed him two paddles and a pole.
“Menes!”
“It’s you.” He put down the gear and shook his head.
“I’m sick.”
Menes furrowed his brow and peered hard at her. “Well, don’t bother me about it. I’ve just lost the results of several months of work. You know what that means?”
“You’re ruined.”
“Ruined? Don’t be an idiot. I only talked about ruin with the crew to persuade them to do things my way. But I can always get along. I’m mad, that’s what I am. No one gets away with stealing from me. I’m going to get my baboon back. You live in the other direction. I’m not helping you get home.”
Lights on the Nile Page 9
