Quietly she called Mina to her and gave her a list of flowers and roots to find. She would need these things if she was to stir Kadeema’s memory. A few hours later, her dark-skinned acolyte returned with the things Farrah had requested. Again, Mina made the sign of respect and walked out of the tent backwards. Farrah stoked the fire in one of the firepots. She snatched strands of Kadeema’s hair out by the root and tossed them on the fire. The mystified Kadeema hardly flinched. Next, Farrah tossed the items Mina had brought her into the low flame and slowly said the words of power as she did so.
She waved a small branch of shrubby rose over the smoke and waved it again over Kadeema to cleanse the young woman’s mind. Using the smoke had some risks, but not to Farrah—only to Kadeema. She had seen that Kadeema would die soon, and perhaps this would hasten her passing, but that was a risk Farrah had to take. The future of the Meshwesh could depend on this! Sometimes, the smoke led a person into the dream world never to return, but Farrah suspected that Kadeema was there already. She was lost in a world of visions. How Farrah envied her! Since she’d taken the life of Onesu, she could not see fully. Now she strained and muttered, sometimes inaccurately, sharing what she saw in the flames or in the water.
Kadeema breathed in the fumes and soon was sitting up on the bed, staring harder at whatever it was she saw in the smoke.
“What do you see, Kadeema? Tell me!”
The queen began talking, low at first, then louder and more clearly. “I see a city far in the desert—hidden away from the eyes of men.” Kadeema’s voice, small and timid, reflected her wonder at what she saw. “Nothing there now, nothing but shadows…shadows of the fallen ones.” She began to shake, and her lip quivered. “Ah…I am so cold.”
Farrah ignored her and pushed her to share more. “Tell me, Semkah’s wife. What do you see now? Can you see the fountain? What about the tower? Are any fires burning there? I must know!”
To Farrah’s surprise, Kadeema laughed at her. “So you wish to go back? You’ve forgotten the way, haven’t you, Old One?”
For a moment, it was as if Farrah could hear a different voice speaking, a familiar voice. She felt her mouth go dry, and her eyes widened.
“There is no path back for you, Far-rah. What is done is done.”
“Ze? Sister?” Farrah’s hand shook with excitement. “Speak to me, sister!”
Kadeema’s face changed. The spirit of Ze had passed by, leaving the slack-faced queen behind. She mumbled, “My daughters! I see them! My beautiful girls! How much they look like me!”
She got up on her knees, staring into the smoke, mesmerized by whatever it was she saw. “One will overtake the other! See? See them? How cruel you are, Farrah—you spoke the words. Now look! Can you see them? My daughters!” Kadeema began to cry softly in the smoky tent. Farrah feared that someone would hear the queen’s cries.
“Now, now, my queen. All will be well.” Her hands still trembling, she smoothed the queen’s tangled hair.
“I cannot stay here, Farrah. I cannot stay and see what shall become of my daughters. You cannot have them both, Old One.” Farrah could see Kadeema’s awareness returning. The power of the smoke was fading. “You cannot kill them both.”
Farrah drew her hand back in shock. “I would never do such a thing! Children are treasures of the tribe!”
Kadeema gripped the older woman’s hands and stared at them. “So you say, but you lie! They shall both rule. Ah…but then…” A sigh came from the depths of her heart. “I see blood on your hands, Old One! I have seen what you have done.”
Farrah’s eyes narrowed. How could she know? Could she have seen Farrah slide the blade across Onesu’s neck in the clouds of smoke? Before she knew what to say or do, the queen commanded, “Kill me, with your sharp blade! The one you have hidden there in the box. Slide it under my chin and into my brain, Farrah! Please do not leave me in my misery, for I know you shall kill my daughters.” She clutched Farrah’s hand desperately, her green eyes rivers of pain and hopelessness.
“How can you ask me to do this? You speak like a madwoman, Kadeema.” Farrah stood, pushing away from the grasping queen. She gathered her thoughts as Kadeema wept. She had little patience for talking more with the young woman. The queen’s mind was feverish, lost—that’s what Farrah would say. No one would believe Kadeema.
“Sit, rest, eat. You will feel better soon. Stay here, and I will fetch your husband for you. Semkah has been caring for your daughters, but I suspect that his heart is truly with you. Let me find him.” Farrah had to leave; she had to consult the Council on what to do next. She had pledged never to take another life, and so she would not, despite what the queen might believe.
Kadeema did not look at her but stared off into her dreamland with her own private vision. “Yes, I shall wait—for a little while.”
Only a brief time had passed when Farrah and Semkah returned. Semkah’s handsome smile quickly disappeared, and his dark looks clouded with concern. “Wife?” When she didn’t answer, he turned to Farrah and frowned. “Where is she?”
Farrah couldn’t hide her surprise. “She was here in her bed, my king. She had a vision! A vision of your daughters!” Quickly she lied, “She asked me to find you. Could I deny her the presence of the king?”
“Why would you leave her?” He growled at Farrah, careful not to strike her as he might like to. “Kadeema? Kadeema? Are you here?” Semkah called again and again. Soon the entire camp was summoned and the search began in earnest. By the time a search party took to the desert sands, the wise woman knew in her bones that Kadeema was dead or very near it. The herbs had increased Farrah’s ability to see, if only for a little while. She knew because she could see Kadeema now, glimpses of her. Farrah didn’t bother to seek for her; she would never be able to find her, only see her in her mind’s eye. Farrah stared into the darkness and watched the queen.
Kadeema walked as far as she could, lay down in the sand, and allowed it to wash over her. Her beautiful eyes focused on a point in the dark sky; the Dancing Man careened above her. With her last breath she shook herself, realizing with sadness how she’d come to be lying in the perilous sands of the Sahara. The queen did not fight her fate, for she had chosen it—finally, for one instant in her life, she showed courage. No sense in fighting now, Kadeema. You now die, and that is your fate.
Farrah tried to remain aloof, unmoved by the picture of the lovely upturned face disappearing beneath the red sands, her thin bloody gown fluttering around her frail body. Yes, she had loved the girl. How could one not love a beautiful face and cheery laugh? Still, Kadeema had saved Farrah the trouble of silencing her.
You have blood on your hands, Old One!
How foolish to think that Farrah would kill the treasures of the tribe, the daughters of Semkah. The queen had been wrong, surely. A small voice inside her whispered, “Yes, you would. You would do even that to go home.”
Surprised by her own thoughts, an unexpected wave of sadness washed over Farrah as the queen’s soul slipped from the earth’s realm.
Suddenly, she yelled at the queen, “Stand! Rise, now—before it is too late!” But the green eyes did not see Farrah; they saw nothing now.
Semkah never found her.
Chapter One
Rivalry—Nefret
Clapping my hands three times, I smiled, amused at the half-dozen pairs of dark eyes that watched me entranced with every word and movement I made. “And then she crept up to the rock door and clapped her hands again…” Clap, clap, clap. The children squealed with delight as I weaved my story. This was one of their favorites, The Story of Mahara, about an adventurous queen who constantly fought magical creatures to win back her clan’s stolen treasures.
“Mahara crouched down as low as she could.” I demonstrated, squatting as low as I could in the tent. “She knew that the serpent could only see her if she stood up tall, for he had very poor eyesight. If she was going to steal back the jewel, she would have to crawl her way into the den, just as the s
erpent opened the door. She was terrified, but the words of her mother rang in her ears: ‘Please, Mahara! Bring back our treasures and restore our honor!’”
I crawled around, pretending to be Mahara. The children giggled. “Now Mahara had to be very quiet. The bones of a hundred warriors lay in the serpent’s cave. One wrong move and that old snake would see her and…catch her!” I grabbed at a nearby child, who screamed in surprise. Before I could finish my tale, Pah entered our tent, a look of disgust on her face.
“What is this? Must our tent now become a playground? Out! All of you, out! Today is a special day, and we have to get ready.”
The children complained loudly, “We want to hear Nefret’s story! Can’t we stay a little longer?”
Pah shook her head, and her long, straight hair shimmered. “Out! Now!” she scolded the spokesman for the group.
“Run along. There will be time for stories later,” I promised them.
As the heavy curtain fell behind them, I gave Pah an unhappy look. She simply shook her head. “You shouldn’t make promises that you may not be able to keep, Nefret. You do not know what the future holds.”
“Why must you treat them so? They are only children!” I set about dressing for the day. Today we were to dress simply with an aba—a sleeveless coat and trousers. I chose green as my color, and Pah wore blue. I cinched the aba at the waist with a thick leather belt. I wore my hair in a long braid. My fingers trembled as I cinched it with a small bit of cloth.
“Well, if nothing else, you’ll be queen of the children, Nefret.”
I smoothed wisps of curly hair with both hands as I stared at my reflection in the brass mirror. “Then it’s settled. I’ll rule the children and you can have the adults.” I smiled at her, hoping one last time to make peace with her. It wasn’t to be. With an eye roll she exited the tent, and I stepped out behind her to greet the day.
My stomach growled. I was ready to break my fast. I could smell the bread baking on the flames. Although banished from my tent earlier, “my” children—Ziza, Amon and Paimu—followed me. Ziza and Amon were born Meshwesh, but the tribe had adopted Paimu.
Many seasons ago, a small band of stragglers from the Algat came to trade with us. When they left early in the morning, they left Paimu behind. My father had been convinced that it was an oversight and that the Algat would return to claim their daughter, but they did not. Paimu was now everyone’s child, but secretly I pretended that she was mine.
“You will win today, Nefret! You will win and be the mekhma!” She whooped and danced around me, and the other two children, her followers, imitated her. I hissed at her playfully as Pah stomped away.
“Stop that now—you’ll jinx me. Have you eaten? Where is your breakfast, Paimu?” I knew she had not. The little girl with the black curls ate like a bird.
“I shall eat with you.”
“Not today, little one. I have to eat with Semkah.”
“Oh, I see.” Her bottom lip protruded, and I tousled her curls.
“But when I am done, I shall look for you. You want to climb that tree today? You think you are strong enough?”
“Strong like a monkey!” Paimu pretended to scratch under her arms and played at being a monkey. We had seen many of the nasty animals in the past few months. The traders loved to bring them to us as if we’d never seen them before, parading them around in golden chains. Despite my aversion, I felt great sympathy for the animals. Nothing deserved to be chained. “Can’t we do it now? Before you go eat?”
I paused on the path, and people jostled past us. The camp was full today; I had been so consumed with my own thoughts that I hardly noticed the arrival of my uncle’s people. Their green and yellow costumes were everywhere. Many of them greeted me, smiling, and the gold about their necks glinted in the early morning light. I felt my stomach twist, and I gladly accepted Paimu’s excuse to put off breakfast. “Only a few minutes, though. I dare not keep the king waiting.”
“Okay then!” Paimu and the other two children hopped and skipped around me like happy goats. I laughed at their playfulness. We walked to the edge of the camp, where the palm trees swayed above a pool of clear blue water. Our temporary home, the Timia Oasis, was my favorite of all the oases that our tribes visited. Lush and green, oranges and pomegranates hung everywhere. Clusters of dates, vegetables and fresh herbs grew abundantly. Every time we left Timia, my heart broke a little. To me this was home, not distant Zerzura, although I would never confess that to anyone.
I skipped down the path with the children until we came to the tree that Paimu had been trying unsuccessfully to climb. As we entered the clearing, my heart sank. There under the tallest tree was Pah, her back propped against the curved trunk and Alexio laughing over her, touching her hair. I would have preferred to turn and walk away, but I had promised Paimu. I avoided making eye contact and helped Paimu tie up her skirt so she could climb.
I knelt down beside her, tucking the fabric neatly in the cord at her waist. “You remember what I told you? Don’t look down. Take your time but keep moving. If you move too slowly, your arms will tire and you will fall.”
“I won’t forget, princess.”
“No princess. Just Nefret.” I tweaked her nose and walked with her to the tree.
“Okay, Nefret. I can do this.”
“I know you can, Paimu.”
Like many times before, Paimu skimmed easily up the first five feet of the tree. I talked to her patiently and soon, Alexio was climbing the tree next to hers, demonstrating his technique as she watched.
“That trunk is too large for her to grasp.” Pah suddenly stood beside me, frowning up at the dark-haired girl above us. “She will hurt herself, Nefret.”
“Nonsense. She’s just climbing a tree, and she’ll never go high enough to hurt herself.”
“This isn’t about you, Nefret. Get her down.”
“Leave her, Pah!”
“Fine! Let her fall, then. It’s no matter to me.” Pah turned to walk away from the whole scene.
Nervously, I called up to the girl. “That’s high enough, Paimu. Come down, brave girl.” Alexio scampered down his tree, walked toward the trunk of Paimu’s tree and patted it.
“Look how far I’ve climbed.” Paimu climbed higher and higher until I could see only her feet. Ziza and Amon clapped and cheered her on.
“Look at you, Paimu! You did it! Now come down. Slowly now. Use your entire body.” I truly had begun to feel frightened for her.
“Okay,” Paimu yelled down, her voice unsteady and unsure. I gasped as I watched her tiny body slide down the tree. Ziza screamed, and I raced to the trunk.
“Stop, Paimu! Be still for a moment. Don’t look down—stop looking down!”
“Okay,” she said, her voice cracking with fear.
“I told you this would happen.” Pah hadn’t left; she lingered behind me.
Aggravated, I spun on my heel. “Yes, you did. Thank you, Pah.” Alexio stripped off his jacket and sandals again and prepared to climb the tree, but I stopped him. “No, she’s my responsibility. I will get her down.” Alexio smiled patiently, giving me a mock bow. At least he didn’t argue with me, and for that I was thankful. I kicked off my shoes and began to climb.
“I am coming up, my monkey girl. Be still. Are you secure?”
“Yes, but my arms are shaky, princess—I mean Nefret. I can’t hold on. I am scared.” I climbed as quickly as I could in an attempt to reach her; the tree shook beneath me.
“No! Stop!” she screamed, attracting more attention to our situation.
“I cannot leave you there, Paimu. What will the birds say? Now hold on while I come closer.”
“What is your plan? To fall out of the tree with her?” Pah mocked us from the ground. I heard Alexio scold her, but I kept my attention on the little girl above me.
“See how clever you are. You climbed very high, but now we have to come down. I am going to move very slowly, okay? Why don’t you climb down to me and meet me halfwa
y? Then this poor old tree won’t shake so much.”
“I can’t!”
“Yes, you can. You can do it. I am going to move up now just a tiny bit. Hold still.”
I eased up the tree another short space. I did this again and again until I could reach out and touch her dirty foot.
“No, no! Please. I will fall.”
“No, Paimu. I will not allow you to fall. I am the princess, remember? What I say has to be, right?”
“I guess so.”
“It is so. Now I am going to climb up next to you, and you are going to hang around my shoulders like my little monkey, okay? Together we will climb down.”
“I will try.”
“No, you can do it.”
“Careful, Nefret,” someone called up to me, but I didn’t answer. I had to stay focused on my task. The sweat crept across my brow, and I felt the muscles in my arms and legs burn.
“Come now. Here I am. See?” I smiled at her, but she didn’t return my smile.
“I’m afraid! I am going to fall!”
“Nonsense. Here’s what I want you to do. First, I am going to inch a little closer, but I will not touch you. You will put this leg around my waist and then scoop your arm under my armpit. That way, you won’t fall.”
“Can you hold me?”
“Of course I can. A little monkey like you is easy to carry. Take your time now. Here I come.” I inched closer, my hands sweating. What would I do if something happened to Paimu, if she fell out of this tree and it was my fault? “Now first your leg. It’s okay, take your time.” Paimu held her breath and put her leg around my waist. She was so small that I barely felt the weight of her. “No, not around my neck. You can’t choke me. Under my arm, please. Yes, that’s it.”
The Tale of Nefret Page 2
