by Dakota Chase
“I didn’t say you were stupid. I just figured you were more the jock type. You know, football and baseball and stuff.”
A jock? Me? I didn’t even own a pair of cleats. “There was nothing else on TV that night. It was pretty interesting, though, I guess. It’s coming in handy now, that’s for sure.” I cast a sideways glance at him. “What about you? I figured you for a tennis player, or that game rich guys play on horses.”
He snorted. “Polo? No, the only horse I’ve ever been on was impaled on a pole on a carousel. I’m afraid of horses.”
“No... really? Who’s afraid of horses? They’re too pretty to be scary,” I said, and laughed.
He turned red and looked embarrassed, frowning. “Forget I said anything.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t get mad. I’m sorry.” Me and my big mouth. Just when we’d been getting along again—he’d even thrown me a compliment about being a jock, although I doubted he knew he’d done it – and I blew it by laughing at him. “Really, I’m sorry. I’ll bet lots of people are afraid of horses. Dogs, too. Snakes... pigeons...”
He laughed. “Nobody’s afraid of pigeons.”
“I’ll bet there are some people who are.” I faked a shudder. “They freak me out a little. Pigeons have that weird way of looking at you, like they know something you don’t, and then they just waddle out of your way like they’re not scared of you, even though you’re, like, a hundred times bigger than they are.”
Grant smiled. “You’re a really strange person, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told,” I answered, and returned his smile. “Me, now, I’m claustrophobic. If you ever really want to see a freak show, try locking me in a closet.”
“I thought you were already in a closet,” he retorted. He was grinning when he said it, and elbowed me for good measure.
My jaw practically hit the floor. Wow. I guess he’s figured out that I’m into guys. Well, I thought, at least he seems cool with it. I chuckled. “Good one,” I said, bumping my shoulder into his.
We were laughing as we reached Tut’s bedroom, and it took an effort for us to sober up before we went inside. The guards were gone, the doors open, and the room empty except for his servants. Maids were busily straightening Tut’s room, although they looked as nervous and upset as the other’s we’d seen in the hallway. Grant asked one where we could find the king.
“King Tutankhamen, may he live forever, is in the Great Hall, attending to the crisis!” the servant replied as she fluffed the pillows.
“Where’s that?” I asked.
She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. I guess everyone knew where to find the Great Hall. Personally, I thought everyone who entered the palace should’ve been handed a map. The place was huge.
Grant took my elbow. “I bet it’s where everyone was heading yesterday, before we broke off and found Tut,” he said.
It made sense. I took a quick look at the carved chest next to Tut’s bed, but the amulet wasn’t there. He’d probably put it on as soon as he woke up. We hurried out of Tut’s bedroom and down the stairs, navigating the hallway toward the place we’d first entered the palace the day before.
The entry hall was packed with people, all of them jabbering excitedly. The immense double doors that led into the Great Hall were closed. We approached the guards who were standing there, barring anyone from entering. They stared straight ahead, barely even noticing us.
“We need to see King Tutankhamen,” I said, warily eyeing the curved scimitars they held.
“The king, may he live forever, is not receiving visitors.” The man’s expression never changed from the fierce, stony look.
“He’ll receive us. We’re his friends!” I protested, in spite of my fear of being beheaded right there in the entry hall.
“Go away, now!” His lip curled over his teeth, and he fingered the hilt of his sword. He was obviously not in the mood to deal with teenaged strangers. “We have no time for peasants like you.”
Peasants? I frowned and was about to say something that might very well have ended with me losing my head, but Grant’s elbow digging into my ribs shut my mouth before the words could leave it.
“Come on,” he whispered. “We’ll come back later.”
Grant and I backed away. “There must be another way into the Great Hall,” I said, once we were out of sight and hearing of the massive guards. “I’m sure Tut doesn’t use the front door every time he needs to go in there.”
“Let’s try this way,” Grant agreed, pointing to yet another hallway leading off the main corridor.
This hallway was long and narrow, lined with busts of dead kings, statues of animal-headed gods, and paintings. We followed its twisting and turning length for several minutes until we finally found another door.
It was open, and we could hear voices from inside. We paused just out of sight, listening.
“Only the gods know why these things sometimes happen. It is best to trust the gods’ judgment and let them reveal their plans in their own time.” The voice was deep and gruff, and sounded irritated.
“This is not the work of the gods!” Tut was agitated and angry. I could hear it in his voice. “The gods will make the Nile flood, or not, or make the crops wither, or not. They do not make a person disappear!”
“Do you dare speak for the gods, little king?”
My hands tightened into fists. Who was this jerk to speak to Tut that way? I glanced at Grant and saw the same expression of anger on his face.
“You forget your place, Aye. You are Grand Vizier. I am Pharaoh! I am divine by birth! Unless, perhaps, you wish it were otherwise?”
I was amazed at the power in Tut’s voice. There was a definite hint of sarcasm in his last question. It reminded me that Tut wasn’t just another kid like me and Grant. He was Pharaoh of Egypt, and his word was law. Aye must have heard it, too, because when he spoke again, it was in a much more restrained tone.
“Of course, my Lord. My apologies. I forgot myself in my distress,” Aye said.
I didn’t believe a word of it. Aye sounded condescending, as if he just patronized Tut. I wondered if Tut heard it. I risked a quick peek into the room. Aye was an older man, with deeply tanned, leathery skin and a body just beginning to show its age. He wore a kilt, and a wide collar made of gold. A whip was curled at his side.
I could see Tut, too. A tall conical hat sat on his head, and he wore a ridiculous (to my eyes, anyway) false beard strapped to his chin. He was sitting on his throne, on an elevated platform. Aye stood before him.
“I want the palace searched again, and the whole of the city next. Go house to house, if you must. We will find Nefertiti!” Tut hissed.
“As you wish it, so it will be done,” Aye said. I heard sandals clicking on tile, fading away. When I was sure Aye had left, I risked a longer peek into the Great Hall.
Tut was sitting on a wide, golden bench on what looked like a small stage, surrounded by servants and piles of treasure too numerous for me to take in all at one glance. There were piles of gleaming gold rings and statuettes, bolts of different colored cloths, goblets, dishes, bowls, urns, giant ostrich eggs, curving ivory tusks, and many other fabulous objects.
He was leaning forward, his arms resting on his lap, holding a flail in one hand and a small shepherd’s crook in the other. He looked just like the image I’d seen of him on his sarcophagus in that documentary I’d watched. His braids fell over one shoulder, hiding his face, but when he looked up as we entered the room, they fell away. No one had done his eye makeup, and for a brief minute, he looked like a lonely, scared kid. I noticed he was wearing the amulet.
“My friends! You have heard the terrible news?” he asked, gesturing for us to come closer.
“We heard that Nefertiti has gone missing,” I said, refraining from saying what I’d been thinking... that her tomb had been found with her in it, three thousand years later.
“She is the only mother I know,” Tut said sadly. “She ruled in my stead until
I was old enough to take the crown. It is she who often aids me when I must make important decisions. I value her advice.” He glanced toward the double doors, and lowered his voice. “Aye wishes me to believe it is the gods’ will that she is gone, but I sense the hand of man in this!”
I was willing to bet Nefertiti was all that stood between Aye and the boy who sat on the throne of Egypt, and knew in that moment that, although Tut didn’t say it, he loved her as much as any son loved his mother. I felt a stab of jealousy and wished my relationship with my own stepmother was as close. It wasn’t Tut’s fault that my stepmom didn’t like me. Besides, if I was really truthful, I would admit that I hadn’t given her much to like. All she’d really gotten from me was a smart-mouthed kid who was always getting in trouble. I wondered if I gave her half a chance if things could be different between us.
Shaking my head, I focused on Tut’s problem, not my own. “I think you might be right,” I answered, keeping my voice down. “Do you trust him, Tut? That Aye guy, I mean.”
“Aye is my Grand Vizier. His advice has also helped me rule since I was but a boy. He was a trusted general of my father’s.”
“That’s not really answering my question,” I pointed out. “He didn’t sound too respectful when we overheard him talking to you before.”
Tut looked away for a moment, then turned back to face me. “Sometimes, I fear Aye harbors heresy in his heart,” Tut admitted. “I do not wish to believe it of him, but there have been whispers among the palace servants that he covets the throne for himself. Sometimes he speaks to me as if I am still a child.”
“You need to be really careful, Tut. A man like that might do anything to get what he wants,” I said. I didn’t want to come right out and tell Tut that Aye might end up murdering him in a couple of years, because I knew Tut would never believe me. “It seems to me he’d want to hunt for Nefertiti before blaming it on the gods.”
“Tut, is there anywhere Nefertiti might go? I mean, places she liked to visit?” Grant asked.
“Not alone, and never without telling anyone she was leaving. Her servants said she went to sleep last night, but this morning, when they went into her room with food to break her fast, she was gone,” Tut said. “Her guards swear they saw nothing. I have ordered that the usual places—the banks of the river where she likes to swim, the homes of friends with whom she likes to visit—be checked, but so far, none have seen her.”
“What about her room?” Grant asked next.
“What of it?” Tut looked from Grant to me, but I was as clueless as Tut.
“In our country, we take a good look at the place the person was last seen for clues. Sometimes, it gives us a good idea about what happened. Was there any sign of a struggle? Was there any... blood?” Grant asked.
Tut looked surprised. “I have not seen her room for myself. Aye had Nefertiti’s maids clean her room for her eventual return. He said nothing was out of order.”
“How convenient,” I said under my breath, but I know Grant heard me from the expression on his face. The more I heard, the more I thought Aye might be behind Nefertiti’s disappearance. “Maybe you should question her maids.”
Tut nodded and clapped for a servant, ordering him to bring Nefertiti’s maids to the Great Hall. The servant scampered off quickly.
My stomach, never known to have terrific timing, chose that moment to grumble loudly.
“My apologies. No one has so much as offered you a fig this morning to break your fast, have they? Please, eat,” Tut said, gesturing toward a table laden with food. Grant and I made a beeline for the banquet, stuffing ourselves silly with fruit and bread, and drinking milk sweetened with honey. I brought a cup of it, and a hunk of bread slathered with honey, over to Tut.
“I’ll bet you haven’t eaten, either,” I said, handing him the goblet and slice of bread.
He took it gratefully, smiling. “You are a good friend, Ass.”
Okay, I could’ve done without being called “Ass” again, but I was glad Tut thought of me as a friend. Then I noticed Grant frowning at me, and wondered what that was all about.
“Suck up,” he muttered, low enough for only me to hear.
“Shut up,” I hissed, equally as softly. “I was just being nice.”
“You like him,” I thought I heard Grant grumble, but I convinced myself I was mistaken. Why would Grant care if I liked Tut?
It was food for thought, though. Was Grant just concerned about me postponing stealing Tut’s amulet if I had a crush on Tut? Or was something else bugging him?
I didn’t have a crush on Tut, not really. It was Grant who I kept thinking about, but I wasn’t about to admit it. Still, as I helped myself to another piece of bread, chewing slowly, I watched Grant out of the corner of my eye. He seemed to be watching me back, casting furtive glances in my direction, then turning away when he saw me looking. He seemed angry.
Or could it be jealousy I saw in his darkened expression? Nah, I told myself, don’t be stupid. You’re reading things into it that don’t exist.
I didn’t have time to think about it anymore, because at that moment Nefertiti’s servants arrived, and things got deadly serious.
Chapter Ten
The servants who’d attended Nefertiti, three girls, came into the Great Hall in the company of a pair of guards. None of the girls were older than fifteen or sixteen, and they looked positively terrified.
“Tell me what you saw when you first discovered all was not right with your mistress,” Tut said. He drained the last of the milk I’d given him and handed the empty goblet to me. I placed it back on the table, trying to make it less obvious that I was listening.
The girls fell to the floor, pressing their faces to the marble, shaking but silent. “W-we did only as the Grand Vizier ordered us to do, my Pharaoh!” the bravest of the girls finally squealed, barely looking up at Tut. “He told us to speak to no one about what we found!”
I arched an eyebrow. So, Aye was involved in some sort of cover up! I thought. I knew I didn’t trust that guy!
Tut showed remarkable restraint with the three girls, more than I would have. I would’ve been screaming at them. “Surely the Grand Vizier did not mean you should withhold this information from your pharaoh,” he said gently. “Tell me. What did you find?”
The girls huddled on the floor. “Nefertiti was not in her bed when we arrived. The coverlets were on the floor, and her night-basket had spilled. Th-there was blood on her linens, oh, Great Pharaoh.”
“The Grand Vizier told you to clean up the blood and not to tell anybody about it?” I asked. Tut raised an eyebrow toward me, but seemed to decide to allow me butting my nose into his business.
“Answer Ass. He is a Friend of Egypt,” Tut ordered.
Grant coughed, but I knew he was trying to cover his laughter at hearing my “nickname” again.
Jeez. I really need to get Tut to call me something else, I thought, shooting Grant an irritated look.
“Y-yes, he did,” the girl stammered. “Oh, please Great Pharaoh, do not throw us to the crocodiles!”
Wow. Guess they took crime and punishment pretty seriously in ancient Egypt, I thought. Particularly since Tut didn’t laugh at her worries.
“I shall show mercy on you, since you were following the orders of the Grand Vizier,” Tut said, “but never keep information such as this from me again.”
He waved a hand, and the guards escorted the weeping girls out of the Grand Hall.
“Would you really have them fed to the crocs?” Grant asked, beating me to the punch.
Tut shrugged one bare shoulder, but didn’t bat an eye. “Treason is punishable by death. Those guilty of it are not worthy of passing into the afterlife.” He acted as if what he was suggesting happened every day of the week and was of no more significance than when the judge sentenced me to a year at the Stanton School for Boys.
I reminded myself never to cross Tut, or if I did, to be well on my way back to the present before he found out
. “What do you mean, Tut?” I was almost afraid to ask.
Tut looked at me as if I was stupid. “Surely it is the same in your country? Treason against the pharaoh is the most terrible crime that can be committed. I am divine. After my death, when I pass through the shadows of the Underworld and Osiris weighs my heart and finds me worthy, I will take my place among the gods. Therefore, anyone guilty of treason is guilty of heresy. Everyone knows this. No tomb shall be erected for them, and their body shall not be mummified but left to turn to dust, blown away by the wind... or eaten by crocodiles.”
Did Tut really believe he was almost a god? I looked into his dark, unflinching eyes, and saw that it was true.
Wow. Talk about having a god-complex. And here I thought Meek had been full of himself.
Still, Tut didn’t act high and mighty. He didn’t have to—he truly believed he was divine, and what’s more, everyone else believed it, too.
“Tut, I don’t think Nefertiti ran away. I think someone either took her, or...” I let my voice trail off, unwilling to say that I thought she might’ve been murdered.
Tut looked stricken. “Why would anyone want to hurt Nefertiti? She is quite beloved by the people.”
“Maybe not by all of the people,” I said, glancing at the double golden doors through which Aye had gone. “Maybe some people aren’t happy that she sides with you all the time, or that she still advises you on matters of state.”
“No, it was Nefertiti’s idea to return to the old ways. My father, Akhenaten, was misguided. He destroyed the temples of the gods and forced Egypt to honor only one—Aten, god of the sun. Under Nefertiti’s advice, I rebuilt the old temples and gave honor to all the gods once more. The people were grateful. No one would want to hurt her.”
“Are you sure? Even somebody who might... how did you say it? Harbor heresy in his heart?” I asked.
Tut was quick to catch on. He clapped his hands and ordered his servants and guards out of the room, leaving us alone. Still, he lowered his voice. “Surely, you do not suggest that Aye is behind her disappearance?”
