“I can ride fast. I know I can! Please, don’t leave me, Nefret.” She sobbed now, and even Ayn’s heart began to melt. She stroked the girl’s hair and spoke softly to her.
“I cannot take you, Paimu, because if I do, the tribe at Biyat may want to keep you. I am there to make a trade, am I not? You are my treasure, Paimu. I could not bear to lose you. Now please listen to me. Stay with Ayn and help her. Teach Alexio how to climb the palm if you like.”
That answer seemed to satisfy her. “When will you be back?”
Alexio passed by Pah and joined us, answering her, “Three days unless she stays the night.” He cast his lovely eyes on me and said, “It’s a straight shot, Nefret. Follow the sun and you can’t miss it. I packed a knife in your hip bag, just in case. Do not stop for any reason until you get to Biyat. It is a long day’s ride, but you can do it easily.”
I climbed on the camel, hoping to avoid any further gossip about my relationship with Alexio. Still, I wanted to fling my arms around him one last time. I thanked him politely and walked the camel to the edge of the camp. Pah rode away, a boisterous crowd of young people cheering for her as she disappeared riding hard for the south. Now as I left the tribe behind, I heard cheers for me too; they were not as loud as Pah’s, but they still warmed my heart and filled me with purpose. Waving goodbye, I scanned the faces for Father but did not see him. Kicking with my heels and clucking my tongue, I spurred the camel on and rode westward with all my might.
I rode steady for some time before the heat of the day began to burn my skin. Without dismounting, I covered my head with my worn brown cloak and took some refreshment from my goatskin. I drank the cool water and felt refreshed immediately, but my thirst quickly returned. In the distance my hot eyes spotted an unfamiliar small oasis. This would not be Biyat; it was too close to Timia. But if the occupants were friendly, perhaps I could take my rest there to avoid the midday sun.
I had traveled to Biyat when I was just a child, before I had breasts, and I remembered it well. Unlike Timia, which had a diamond shape, the Oasis of Biyat ran long and skinny, the lushness sprouting up around an underground stream. The sheltering land before me was nothing as large as Biyat and appeared as a clump of green grass in the midst of a sea of red sand. As I drew closer, I wrapped my cloth tighter around my face, hoping to avoid drawing unwanted attention with my red hair and green eyes.
“Kitch, kitch!” I clucked at the camel. I sat tall in the saddle despite my sore back and aching bottom. I drew close but not too close. Observing the oasis for a moment, my fears were allayed. The visitors were merely goatherds seeking to do the same thing as I was, find shelter from the heat. Riding closer, I called out in a friendly manner, “Peace to you.”
“Peace to you as well!” A young boy called back and ran to find the goatherd, probably his father. Leading the camel to the water’s edge, I settled under a palm and unwrapped my head. I splashed my face and hands, then set about searching for my lunch—chula bread and a cluster of dates from Timia. A crooked-backed old goatherd made his way to me, and his young protégé tagged along behind him. A third man hovered near the goats. My bow was on the other side of the camel, but my knife was on my side. I prayed I would not have to use it.
“Peace to you.” The goatherd smiled politely and for a few minutes we exchanged pleasantries. But remembering Alexio’s words, I did not tell more than I had to. The goatherd offered me some of his wine, but I politely refused. Drinking wine in the heat of the day with strangers seemed a poor choice.
“What brings you to this little spot? There is nothing much here, sister.”
Ignoring his attempt at friendliness I said with a smile, “I am only passing through.”
“To Biyat, then?” He frowned, his forehead wrinkled with concern. The goatherd’s face, like the faces of most who had spent their lives in the Sahara sun, was a map of lines and dark skin. “Oh no, do not go to Biyat. There are strange things happening. Go home. Go back to Timia.”
“I did not say I was from Timia.” I stopped unpacking my bag and stared at the old man.
“I can see plainly, red-haired one. These eyes have not failed me so far. Those are the colors of the Meshwesh,” he said, pointing to my embroidered collar, “and they do love Timia this time of year. Tell me, does Farrah still live?”
“You know Farrah?”
He laughed as if he knew the most wonderful joke but had no intention of telling me. “Of course, of course, sister. And if you are here, that means she has yet to find Zerzura.” He laughed even louder, as did his helper.
I had no desire to engage in more conversation with the goatherd, but I felt I had to know what dangers possibly lay ahead of me.
“What strange things do you mean?”
“Tall men, so tall they could touch the sky. A hot wind blows, hotter than any I have ever known. The Dancing Man has risen in the night sky, and a voice—a whispering voice—is carried on the breeze.” He froze, his hand cupping his large ear as if he could hear it even now.
“These men, are they Nubians? The Nejd?”
He waved his hand as if I were stupid. “No Nubians—no Nejd.” He muttered in a language I did not know and continued his story. “Tall they are, tall and spindly like these trees. And wherever they go, they sow unhappiness behind them. It is not wise to be out here by yourself, red-haired girl. These tall men come from beyond the southlands of Mut where no decent tribe dwells. They are at war with everyone! Go home now.”
A chill crept down my spine, but I masked my fear. I nodded my thanks for his warning and offered him some dates; he happily accepted, thanking me profusely before he left.
Nervously, I watched the trio as surreptitiously as possible. If they were a danger to me, there was no need to boost their confidence by appearing afraid and vulnerable. As I sat under the tree and leaned against the trunk, I took out my blade and began to rub it with an oily cloth until it shone. I hoped they would spot the glinting metal and take the warning. It seemed they did, as they did not bother me again. The two older men rested under their makeshift tent while the boy cavorted with the goats until he too sought shelter. The bright day burned on. I ate my food and tried to stay awake, but the heat sapped the strength from my bones. I longed to brush out my hair and retie it, but doing so would not be wise. It would have to wait until I returned home or perhaps this evening if the people at Biyat were thoughtful enough to provide me with a bed.
My camel hunkered down, and I clucked at him playfully. Leaning back against the tree, I closed my eyes, thinking again of my dream. How real it had seemed to me! The coolness of the stone under my bare feet, the pounding of my heart as I turned each sharp curve in the confusing corridor. Would I ever forget seeing that fear reflected in the face of the boy who ran behind me?
Smenkhkare!
I felt my body relax and before I knew it, I had succumbed to sleep. I dreamed but did not remember it.
I awoke with a start, jolted awake by a noise that only my dream-self heard. Breathing hard from the rush of adrenaline, I found myself on my feet with my knife in my hand. I circled around the tree but saw nothing, no one. In fact, the others were gone, all three men and the dozen goats that accompanied them. I shielded my eyes with my hand and peeked at the sun. Hours had passed, but I did not know how many. It would be dark soon, and I did not want to be caught in the desert by the tall men the goatherd spoke of. And regardless, I had a job to do. I hoisted my supplies back in the saddle and climbed aboard the camel. Wrapping the cloth around my head, I continued my trek west, faster now as if giants indeed chased me.
I leaned into the camel, twisting the leather strap. I whispered in his ear, “Kitch, kitch!” Obediently, he ran faster, and I kept my spine straight and in line with his head. He ran as if he knew something I did not. As we hurried toward Biyat, I kept my eyes trained on the horizon, praying that I would see trouble before it approached me. How would I defend myself out here with no shelter and nobody I knew? I found myself miss
ing Alexio again.
Focusing on the task at hand, I urged the animal forward and began to think about my trade. What would benefit my tribe? What was I expected to do? I had no idea, no inspiration, but I hoped that it would come to me when I needed it, just as it had earlier in the judgment of Ayn. My thoughts turned toward the Shining Man.
What if, like the fated “Queen of Zerzura,” I was being tricked? What if my dreams were nothing more than dreams? It could not be true! His words were burned in my heart…
Will you trust me even when you cannot see me? When all others turn against you?
Time passed quickly as I rode. The sun hung low in the sky and soon it would be dark in the desert. If I did not arrive at Biyat soon I would be forced to sleep in the sand. As I cleared a tall dune, an acrid smell filled my nose. I gasped and stood amazed at the sight that lay before me. There were fires everywhere, and even from this distance I could see the charred remains of a camp.
My first instinct was to spur the camel toward the disaster, but the animal refused to obey me. Despite my attempts to convince him, he resolutely refused to take another step forward. Sliding off his back, I led him by the reins to get closer to the fiery scene. When I got as close as I dared, I stood still waiting and listening but could detect no sound except the crackling of fire. No one cried for help. I had to get closer. My unhappy camel tolerated my curiosity until we stepped into the camp. Then, with a snort, he pulled away from me and loped away. Clucking at him softly to calm him, I tied the strap to the tree and patted him, assuring him I would return. As he must have known, I needed him far more than he needed me. If he ran into the desert, he would easily find his way home. But without him, I would certainly perish.
I gagged as I walked into the camp. Quickly I balled my tunic’s edge and covered my nose with it. The Meshwesh at Biyat did not belong to my tribe, but they were Meshwesh all the same. My stomach lurched as I walked past an avenue of scorched earth and debris that had once been tents. Walking carefully to avoid burning my sandaled feet, I paused every few feet to listen for calls for help or any sign that whoever did this was nearby.
Suddenly a thought occurred to me: what if the old man was right? What if this was proof that the “tall men” had been here? The Meshwesh obviously had not planned on leaving. The fire had consumed much, but many valuable things were left behind, like the clay pots that our women took pride in working. I picked up a broken one from the sand and rubbed the geometric patterns with my fingers.
I walked past one charred pile after another, my heart falling further in my chest with each step. “Hello?” I called. “Is anyone here?” My imagination could not muster a scenario of what must have taken place. Even if an uncontrollable fire had blazed through the camp, the Meshwesh would not have left their cooking pots or anything else. Yes, something evil happened here. The residue lingered.
“Hello?” I called again. Rising desperation forced me to dig deeper. I picked up a stick and used it to probe a smoking pile. I lifted the burned tent canvas and screamed. A tiny burned hand appeared, and I dropped the stick. Yes, this was the work of evil men. Feeling a surge of panic, I ran to the edge of the oasis hoping against hope that I would see a caravan in the distance, that I would see proof that someone had escaped. Leaving the green and brown grass behind me, I scurried up a small dune and climbed up to get a better look. Surely someone had escaped!
As I reached the sandy peak an intensely bitter aroma assaulted my senses. The smell of death rose up from the sand below me like a living thing. In a shallow valley were the bodies of my people. Dead Meshwesh covered the ground, their bodies half hidden in the sand. Mothers and fathers were tossed together with their children’s limp bodies. Wicked gashes from unforgiving blades had opened their necks, and there were gaping spear wounds in their bellies. Falling to my knees, I cupped my mouth to prevent a scream from escaping. This was a place of death! Rocking back and forth, I could not turn my eyes from the carnage. Tears filled my eyes, and I let them flow unashamedly.
I don’t know how long I stayed there on my knees in the deathly silence of the desert. My camel’s long complaint called me back, and the reality that I was in danger came crashing down on me. There was nothing I could do for the Meshwesh before me, but what about my tribe? With one thought—save my people—I carefully slid down the sand to retrieve the evidence I needed. As I approached the first victim, a small boy whose face was hidden in the sand, I removed my knife from my belt. Quickly, I cut a piece of his singed garment away and tucked the cloth in my tunic. Sliding the knife back into place, my weariness vanished. It had been replaced by a surge of purpose and overwhelming fear.
My mission had changed. There would be no deal made here in this valley of death, but I cared not. The faces of the people I loved—Paimu, Alexio, Father and Pah—flashed before me. Could they now be in the path of whoever had mercilessly destroyed this tribe?
My legs ran hard and fast back to the camel. I threw myself in the saddle and, with a slap of my leather strap, spurred the animal toward home.
I prayed I was not too late.
Chapter Nine
The Girl Who Climbs—Paimu
“Paimu! Come down from there. It is well past time to eat!” Ayn called impatiently. I could tell by her expression that she was less than happy with me.
“Go away,” I shouted from the top of the palm. I would never admit that I was afraid—too afraid to come down. Besides, the sun had set and Nefret had been gone for two days. I wanted to be the first to see her return with some great prize, for I had no doubt she would. Like Mahara who outsmarted the serpent and the winged lions to retrieve her clan’s magic treasure, Nefret would not fail. She could not!
“You know she won’t be back today. Be patient and come down. My mother has even made a honey cake just for you.”
“No. Go away.”
Ayn sighed in exasperation and then called up the tree again. “I suppose I could find Pah and have her come get you down, since I can’t climb too well. She is probably rested from her travels.”
A surge of panic hit my hungry belly. “I will come down now. The sun has gone away, and I cannot see anything anyway.”
Ayn chuckled. “Indeed you cannot. Come now. Mother is waiting.”
I crept slowly down the slick trunk, using my thighs and ankles to counterbalance my hands and arms. Somewhere below the tree were my shoes, a present from Nefret, my only true friend. With an impressive leap, I landed on the ground and wiped my dirty hands on my clothes.
Ayn crinkled her nose. “You smell terrible. When was the last time you bathed?”
With my hands on my hip I said, “You don’t tell me when to take a bath! You are not my mother, Ayn!”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me with her. I struggled for a moment until her strong hand patted my behind. “Listen! Nefret asked me to take care of you, and that’s what I am going to do. We can do this pleasantly, or you can make it hard on yourself. Which do you want?”
I snatched my hand away and rubbed it. It didn’t really hurt, but I wanted her to know that I did not approve of her touching me. I did not care to be touched unless I did the touching. Even Nefret did not touch me. “I know you don’t really want me with you, Ayn. Nobody ever does. Why shouldn’t I smell like the goats? Even Nefret gave me away! I am just your punishment.” I had not intended to vent such emotion, but the words tumbled out of my heart before I could think about them.
She tilted her head and gazed down at me. Ayn was not a pretty girl, not like Nefret with her dark red hair, olive skin and cat’s eyes. Even Alexio was prettier than Ayn, but she was strong and brave—and foolish, as she proved the other day.
Ayn stood much taller than me. In fact, she stood much taller than all the girls her age, but she did not seem to mind or notice. In comparison, I felt small, very small indeed. “Maybe you are right, and maybe you are not,” she observed. “I do not know. I do know I gave my word to the anni-mekhma, and I will not fail to keep i
t. I do not mean you any harm, Paimu. I would very much like to be your friend if you have room for one more.” I pushed my bangs from my eyes and stared at her, hoping to perceive any ill will she might have held for me. She had never cared to speak to me before, and now she wanted to be my friend?
Ayn’s eyes shifted, and I turned to see what she spotted. Was it Nefret? My heart leaped, but only for a moment. It was not Nefret but Pah who walked toward us, now washed and dressed like a mekhma in a blue gown that revealed one perfect shoulder. The gold thread embroidery at the sleeves and neck made me think of Mahara’s magical gown.
“Is this one giving you trouble, Ayn?” Pah purred as she reached out and absently stroked my messy hair. “You can handle her, can’t you?”
Ayn reached for me, snatching me away from Pah. I did not argue with her this time or lecture her on how I did not like being touched. Pah frightened me, and she always had. Maybe it was because I dreamed about her once—she’d run toward me, first with her own face and then with the face of a snarling bear.
“No trouble at all, anni-mekhma.” Ayn took my hand protectively and murmured, “Excuse me.” We had taken only a few steps toward Ayn’s home when Pah called my keeper back.
“I do not excuse you! That is all you have to say to me? You were my biggest supporter, Ayn. Now you turn your back on me when we are so close to reaching our goal.”
Ayn stopped and glanced at me. “Go home. I will be there soon.”
“No,” I said, partly because I wanted to stand with her against Pah and partly because I wanted to hear what Nefret’s sister had to say.
“Go now!” the girl commanded, and I walked away but only as far as the nearest tent. I squatted beside it in the shadows, hoping to hear what words they exchanged.
“How dare you accuse me of turning my back on you? You were going to let me die!”
The Tale of Nefret Page 9
