Dancer of the Nile (Gods of Egypt)

by Scott, Veronica

  She took a deep breath, holding it as Kamin tilted her face gently, studying the faded bruises. Anger flared hot in his gut. “Among other unfortunate things, he left the definition of untouched to Amarkash. Let me get the wineskin. I think a drink would calm your nerves.”

  Setting her gently on a rock ledge, he rose to get the wine. He’d bathed, rewrapped his own wounds, and donned a coarsely woven, brown-striped Hyksos kilt while she’d slept.

  “I was supposed to take care of your injuries,” she protested when he came to sit down, touching the bandage on his arm lightly with her fingertips.

  He glanced at his arm as he worked to uncork the wineskin. “I’m perfectly capable of doing field dressings.”

  “I don’t drink wine normally.” She pulled away as he offered her the wineskin. “I have to keep a level head when I’m dancing for a crowd in a tavern.”

  “Trust me, you’ll benefit from it today. A few sips, to please me?” He grinned. “There won’t be any dancing. I’m not trying to get you drunk, only take the edge off your nerves.”

  “I wasn’t concerned about you trying to get me drunk,” she said with offended dignity. Drinking two quick swallows, she pushed the wineskin firmly away, slight tremors weakening her a bit. “I don’t like to lose control to the wine.”

  When she dropped her head against his shoulder, her hair covered him like a soft blanket.

  “You’re shaking,” he said, rubbing her arm. “Are you warm enough?”

  Nima braided a plait of hair and then unbraided it. “I can’t get the nightmare out of my mind, much less the terror of the actual events. So many people dead, slaughtered. And the other young women weren’t as lucky as I was. Amarkash took me to his chariot, but I—I had to watch and hear what was done to the others. The women and the children and a few of the men who survived were sold as slaves to a slave master waiting outside town.”

  Kamin covered her restless hands with one of his, curling his fingers around hers, rubbing his thumb along the edge of her hand. “What about your family?”

  “They were away, performing at the name day celebration for a local noble’s wife. I pretended to be ill so I could remain behind.”

  “Why didn’t you want to go with them?” He took a swig of the wine himself.

  She closed her eyes. “It’s a long story.”

  “We’ve endless hours of daylight ahead of us since we don’t dare travel till nightfall. I’m a good listener,” he said, taking another short drink then capping the wineskin decisively. “Unless you think you could sleep?”

  Half-braided hair flying, she shook her head, opening her eyes wide and putting a hand to her forehead. “The dream is waiting, like a lion about to pounce.”

  “Well, then, distract us both with a story about the most beautiful dancer in Shield of Egypt province, handy with knives and poisonous herbs, who took pity on a poor soldier and rescued him.” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Sounds like a scribe’s tale for children when you describe the events of the past few days in such fashion.” Kamin was gratified to see a slight smile on her lips as she responded to his playful tone. “It wasn’t nearly as amusing to live through,” Nima said.

  “How is it you know about knives and herbs anyway?” he asked. “Hardly the usual training for dancers where I come from.”

  Nima fingered the amulet on her left wrist. “My mother was a disgraced priestess, from a small temple. I don’t know where.”

  Curious, he tried to identify which goddess might value dancing and knife-wielding assassins. Kamin frowned. “Which Great One did she serve? I myself am sworn to Horus.”

  “I don’t know. She died when I was young, and she never spoke of her life before, at least not to me.” With a dancer’s flourish, she held out her wrist. “This is my only clue about the goddess.”

  Holding her hand carefully in his much bigger one, Kamin examined the single glazed oval bead, about two inches long, threaded on a simple black leather thong, knotted loosely to circle her wrist. Pale aqua green in color, the flat bead under the glaze had a partial hieroglyphic on one side and a raised, snakelike design on the other, with two tiny enameled flowers flanking the reptile’s head. “Nothing I recognize. Renenutet, the snake goddess, maybe? These resemble mountain flowers, so maybe a local deity related to the supreme snake goddess?”

  “Who can say? I believe this bead was part of a longer necklace at some time. I think my mother kept it from her happier days in the temple. When I was a baby, she gave it to me as an amulet, but she never uttered the name of the Great One. She told me it might bring the goddess to me in a time of need, but only once, so I wasn’t to use the gift lightly. When she was banished from the ranks of temple dancers, she apparently begged, not for herself, but for this one future favor on my behalf.” Nima squinted at the bead for a moment, rotating it on the thong with her fingertips. “Amarkash said it was worthless clay, so he left it alone.” She tapped the snake with one fingernail. “The amulet’s never brought me luck. It’s never brought me anything but comfort in the knowledge my mother loved me. Certainly no goddess came to help when the Hyksos captured me.” Eyes cast down, she blinked away a tear. “I don’t even know who my father was. Some rich and careless noble who abandoned her is what the troupe members told me, but I don’t know the truth.”

  A bleak tale. My own family frustrates me at times, but at least we know we belong to each other. And I resemble my father in all respects, gods grant he rests well in the Afterlife. Kamin assessed Nima’s condition. She was still too pale, her body racked by occasional tremors, eyes unseeing. Time for more distracting conversation. “But you refer to the performers as your family?”

  “My mother was a trained temple dancer, so after she was banished, she sought to make her living in the taverns, and this troupe took her—us—in.” Nima shrugged. “I was just a baby, so I don’t remember our life before we joined Dudekh and Gamisis and their players.”

  “When you started dancing the other night, at the Hyksos camp, I was sure you must be a temple dancer,” he told her. “You had the classical movements perfectly.”

  Her blush was enchanting, color flowing into her pale cheeks. “Thank you. Serving a goddess by dancing for her pleasure, living safe and secure in a temple, would be a dream, but I perform in the taverns and street fairs instead.” Nima put her head against his shoulder. “My mother drowned in the Nile when I was seven. I’ve always wondered if she walked to the riverbank planning to die. She was so unhappy.”

  “But the performers gave you a home?” He tried to keep doubt out of his tone. Such people are not known for their charity. And they don’t extend themselves to outsiders without good reason.

  Her next words confirmed his opinion. “Not out of true kindness. I dance better than any of them, and they know it.” A strong note of pride rang in her voice. “I inherited my mother’s gift, and she trained me intensively before she died. The noble who hired the troupe on the night of the Hyksos’s attack was probably angry I didn’t come. Dudekh would insist I couldn’t be hired separately. The whole family had to be employed.”

  “So they used you as bait to line their pockets?” What a life of drudgery and sadness she’s had.

  “Yes.” She sighed. “As I got older and stopped seeing through a child’s eyes, I realized they were not nice people.”

  “You said they taught you to throw knives?”

  “And brew poisons and potions, cheat at senet, pick pockets—” Counting the skills off on her fingers, she enumerated the unusual list wryly.

  She had a triumphant little grin on her face. Gods, I want to kiss her. Her lips fascinate me, but now is not the time.

  Apparently unaware of his inner struggle over his body’s reaction to her, Nima snuggled closer.

  “And I’m grateful, especially for your skill with cooking poisonous stews,” he assured her. “But why didn’t you go with the troupe to the noble’s celebration?”

  Not meeting his eyes, she
traced an intricate pattern in her skirt with one finger. “I feigned illness because I had been thinking for a while of running away from them. The night of the noble’s festivities seemed like my chance, only I was afraid to actually set out alone, unprotected.”

  Kamin pursued the thought. “But what had changed about living and traveling with them? Why did you want to run away?”

  “Dudekh’s old crone of a wife, Gamisis, kept pushing me to give private dances, as the other girls did, for men who could pay her for the privilege. I’m convinced that’s what the noble wanted.” Nima grimaced. “Although if I’d gone, the Hyksos wouldn’t have captured me. Maybe I should have given in to Gamisis.”

  His arms tightened around her. “I swear to you, soldier’s oath, you aren’t going back to those people. When we get out of this predicament, once the Hyksos fortress has been destroyed—”

  “A person has to have deben to live,” she said simply. “I need a roof, food, clothing, like anyone else. At least the troupe was protection when some drunken patron wanted to touch me or was waiting after the tavern closed to proposition me. I’ve received several private offers from rich men, nobles, to accept their protection, join their households exclusively, but I’ve no desire to be someone’s concubine, no matter how pleasant he may be or how good a lover. I won’t be a possession, discarded when I’m too old to dance.” Her voice rang with contempt. She played with the frayed hem of her dress, braiding and unbraiding the raggedy strands. “I want to be in charge of my own life, never perform again, unless for an audience of my own choosing. I want to see more of the world than the same border towns and taverns. I want to be respectably married someday, have children, be mistress of a household. ” Her voice trailed off, but after a moment she shook herself and straightened. “First, I have to escape the life I’m trapped in.”

  Such simple dreams shouldn’t be out of reach. He tilted her chin, reached to take the now-wilted flower from her ebony hair. “Well, then, we’ll get the nomarch who rules this province in Pharoah’s name to issue you a fat reward, genuine gold of valor, for saving my life, and you can make your way anywhere you choose.” He blew the limp petals off his fingertips.

  Watching the tiny fragments spiral away in the slight breeze, Nima half smiled. “You dream big, soldier.”

  Actually I dream of you now. Kamin took a deep breath. “Nima—"

  She set her fingers on his lips. “I don’t think we should tempt fate by talking of the future. We have to get all the way to Tentaris to warn the nomarch first. And then see how grateful he may be.” A huge yawn overtook her. “I think the wine is making me sleepy. I told you I’ve no head for wine.”

  “Sleep then.” He grabbed the makeshift pillow with his free hand and tried to plump it up against his thigh before handing it to her. “I’ll be on guard, for the Hyksos or the nightmares.”

  “You need to rest,” she answered drowsily, reclining and shoving the sack under her head. “I can take the watch for part of the time.”

  Adjusting his shoulders to be more comfortable, he leaned against the rock. “I’ll be fine. Soldiers learn to sleep with one eye open. Have no fear.”

  “I’m not afraid, not with you.” Eyes closing, she curled up next to him, like a cat. He had to clench his fist on his thigh to resist the urge to stroke her shining hair. For a moment or two, her soft breathing was the only sound, other than the gentle gurgling of the brook.

  “Kamin?”

  He brought his attention back from the stream. “Yes?”

  She kept her eyes closed. “I haven’t done any private dances. I’ve yet to meet the man I want to dance for.”

  Chapter Three

  A few moments before sunset, he woke her, and they made the best meal they could from the remnants of what they’d stolen from the Hyksos camp, washing it down with the cold water, before repacking their gear and climbing out of the canyon before the sun set completely.

  Stomach sinking, Nima contemplated the vast expanse of sand and semi-arid desert. “How are we ever going to find our way to the city?”

  “I’m a pretty fair tracker.” He pointed in the direction he intended to go, and they both started walking. “We’ll hike due east, opposite the setting sun, arriving on the banks of the Nile in one or two nights’ travel. From there we can get a boat or maybe even a chariot, depending where we intersect the river or cross the caravan road. I can requisition transportation at any government house.” He scrutinized himself, clad in a Hyksos kilt and cloak, and frowned. “I may have some trouble convincing the authorities of my identity.”

  “The officer called you a spy, right before you killed him,” Nima said. “Are you really a spy?”

  Kamin searched her face for a moment, his own serious, eyes narrowed. “Yes,” he said finally. “I’ll admit that much. The Hyksos have Egyptian sympathizers in this province, have even planted some of their own people in positions of power masquerading as Egyptians.” He started walking as he went on. “Pharaoh needs to destroy their network, dig them out by the roots to throw them out of our country for all time.”

  Skipping to close the distance between them, she raised her hand peremptorily. “Better if you don’t tell me the details. We might be recaptured, and I can’t be made to tell what I don’t know.”

  “You possess good sense.” Plucking a long strand of grass from a hillock as he passed, he chewed on it for a moment. “But this province traveled a long way down the road to hell during the Usurper Pharaoh’s reign. The Hyksos presence represents a major threat.”

  She frowned. I can’t even imagine trying to fool the enemy into thinking I was one of them.

  “Were you a good spy?”

  “Since I got myself captured, you might think the answer is no.” Kamin laughed, attractive lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “I was about to make a final report to the nomarch at the capital. I have all the details, all the contacts, all the traitors’ names, here.” He tapped his forehead lightly. “The gods blessed me with the ability to remember vast quantities of information. You recall dance steps, I remember facts.”

  “You’d have made an excellent scribe then,” she said.

  “Not likely. I’d soon lose my wits, cooped up in a counting house or a library all day.”

  “A scribe’s life would have been safer.” She scuffed at a pebble. Safety seemed a highly desirable thing to her, given their circumstances.

  Hands on his hips, he stopped walking. “Do I seem like a man who craves a safe life to you?”

  Laughing at the comic, horrified expression on his face until she couldn’t breathe, Nima clutched her aching sides and said, “Don’t be insulted. No, of course, you’re unquestionably a man who enjoys going in harm’s way. How were you captured, if not in battle?”

  Kamin strolled onward. “At the last meeting I attended, there was a man who’d seen me before, in Thebes. He knew I wasn’t what I claimed to be here in Nome of the Shield. Realizing he’d recognized me, I slipped out of the gathering, but I was pursued and outnumbered.” Shading his eyes with one hand, Kamin stared at the horizon. “Now I need to get across this damn desert and back to civilization, so I can deliver my report.”

  “At least we have the rudiments of a plan,” she said. “Of course, the Hyksos had a map, which would be preferable.”

  Kamin stopped dead in his tracks and wheeled slowly to stare at her, eyebrows raised. “A map? What kind of map?”

  She kept striding along at the pace she had set for herself, passing him and continuing on. “One leading to their fortress in the mountains at the edge of the desert, of course. Amarkash consulted it constantly, day and night, checking landmarks and the alignment of the stars. Why?”

  Coming after her, Kamin grabbed her arm, loosening his grip a bit as she winced. “He let you see this map? Could you reproduce it?”

  “I suppose, but why? We don’t want to arrive at their stronghold. I’ve had more than enough close encounters with the Hyksos.” Bending over,
she plucked an annoying twig from her sandal and tossed it away.

  “No one knows where their base is. That closely guarded secret eluded even my efforts to ferret out information.” Kamin threw his arms wide. “A map would be a gift from the gods. The enemy would never expect us to attack, and the nomarch’s army could surprise them, destroying the whole place.”

  “It might be pretty well defended.” Nima was dubious, pursing her lips and chewing at the interior of her cheek. “The general who sent Amarkash to kidnap me was supposed to be one of their top strategists. Nebu something.”

  “Set’s teeth, I will be damned to the lake of fire,” Kamin said, pounding his fist into his open palm. “Was his name Nebuchazz?”

  “Yes.” She tugged at his sleeve. “Come on, we need to keep walking.”

  Brow furrowed, Kamin resumed the hike, head tilted as he considered her confirmation of the man’s name.

  Nima frowned herself. “What difference does it make who the general is?”

  Eyes sparkling at the thought, he said, “If we could kill or capture him, the Hyksos’ plans to take over Egypt would be dealt a severe blow. Can you draw me this map when we stop to rest later?”

  “I’ll try. I have a pretty good memory. I certainly saw the parchment enough times.” Usually right before Amarkash tied me up for the night. Nima shivered at the memory of the Hyksos officer’s rough, callused hands on her body, fastening the ropes into intricate knots while he touched her in intimate places.

  Lost in the terror of memory, she hadn’t realized she’d stopped walking.

  Reaching out, Kamin tugged at her curls. “Banish the thoughts making you hesitate. You’re with me now. You’re safe. I’ll protect you.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked on her heels. “If they overtake us, I’ll use the dagger on myself. I refuse to be recaptured.”

  He laid one hand over his heart. “I’m not going to let you be taken prisoner again, my oath on it.”