The Tale of Nefret

by M. L. Bullock

  “Now, Farrah. I understand that you think you see things—that you’re some type of nabi-prophetess. But the truth is you are getting old. Too old, I am afraid, to lead the Council anymore. How can we trust your judgment when you tell such lies? Now go rest, and I will send someone to attend you. You are weak from the trials, Old One.”

  The dead child stepped closer to us, staring at Pah’s face and then at mine. She shook her head at me furiously, but I could not determine what she wished to convey. Hot anger rose in my gut, and I would not be denied this confrontation. The reality of what I had done, how I had swayed the Council to favor Pah, all my deeds weighed on me now as the truth of her character was revealed to me. I had to make this right!

  “How dare you speak to me in such a manner? I am not your foolish husband, nor am I one of your stupid followers, Pah. What could that child have done to you? What crime could she have committed that would have caused you to take her young life—to shed her blood in the sand? I see her! I see the wound in her belly! Confess the truth now!”

  “Now you turn your back on me? I only did what you taught me!” Her voice sounded sharp as steel.

  “I never taught you to murder, Pah.”

  “Oh? Didn’t you? What do you think the flames showed me, Farrah? I could see very well. I know your secret.” Her voice dripped venom. “The flames showed me the day you sat on my grandfather Onesu’s chest, spat in his face and slid the knife across his neck! How dare you lecture me! Have you not done the same thing?”

  My voice shook with anger. “No! It is not the same thing! I never killed a child! I took vengeance for my sister, something you would know nothing about! How easy was it, Pah, to turn your back on your sister? To kill her treasure?”

  “Again with Nefret? You were the one who wanted me to win the trials, and so I have! I am the strongest, the fastest, the smartest—but does that matter to you? Nobody ever saw me. Not Alexio, not Semkah, no one! I made a name for myself, and I will never relinquish my power! You have no right to ask me! You are not innocent, Farrah.”

  Blinking away her accusations, I asked her again, “What did you do, Pah? I must know what happened. You cannot take us to Zerzura with this stain on your soul. The way will be hidden from you unless you confess. You must trust me in this.”

  “Why should I tell you anything? You don’t know what you’re talking about, Farrah! Now leave, or I will call my guards to haul you out of here.” Turning her back on me, she strode to a nearby table and began brushing the tangles from her hair. From the reflection in the brass mirror she held, I could see her pretty face. It appeared calm and fearless, but I knew better. I stepped behind her.

  “Do not turn your back on me, girl!”

  “I am going to warn you only once more.” She stared at me from the mirror. “Leave now, Farrah.”

  “You cannot send her away. You took a life—a debt is owed.”

  Setting down the brush, she turned to face me. We were inches apart. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Paimu slipping away, her image fading, her mouth open in a silent scream. As she backed away, sadness washed over her face. I reached out my hand to the dead girl to plead with her to remain, but I was unable to express my words.

  A shocking pain caused my body to seize all thoughts and feelings. I was consumed by the pain, and my hands clutched at the source of the agony. A blade protruded from my belly. Pah’s hand was upon it.

  With an anguished gasp, I stared into the mekhma’s lovely face. Her lowered lids shielded her eyes, eyes that watched me fall to my knees. A smile crept across her full, apricot-colored lips. As I fell, she twisted the blade once more before she slid it from my body. I wanted to scream but found no voice. This was my end. I kept staring at her face, and she never swayed from my vision.

  Mina, if you can hear me. Come now!

  I could not speak the words, but my mind called Mina to me. Sometimes she could hear me; perhaps it was not too late.

  Mina, please. Come!

  Pah knelt beside me. “Now I take my vengeance, Farrah. I can see in the flames, remember?” She whispered into my ear, “I saw what you did to my mother. How you led her to the dream world even though you knew it would kill her. You left her there. Then you watched as she walked into the desert and was swallowed by the sand. You have more than one death on your hands, don’t you, Old One?”

  I tried to explain myself, but the only sound I made was a weak gurgle. I could barely breathe now. Death would arrive any second—excruciating pain radiated from my belly to all parts of my body. I could feel my heart pounding harder and the blood flowed faster.

  “You deserve death. How dare you think you could take this from me? I am the mekhma! I am the life of the Meshwesh! It is not in your power to stop what the gods have ordained—you who worship dead ancestors. What have they ever done for you, Farrah? I worship the true gods of Kemet—Isis, Hathor and Mut! It is them you have offended with your unholy prayers and deeds. Go now, Old One, and may you never find your ancestors. Reap now what you have sown!”

  Mina!

  The taste of blood filled my mouth, and the light began to fade from my vision. All that was left for me was the face of Nefret…no, that was Pah’s face above me, gloating and victorious.

  I curse you, Pah.

  From behind her, a sound—a muffled scream. Mina stepped into view and pushed the mekhma aside. She did not speak. I sometimes wondered if she had forgotten how. I missed hearing her voice, so deep and dusky, quite different than what one would expect from such a plain face. I reached for her, but my hands would not obey. She pulled me to her and shook with silent cries as the light dimmed to just a pinhole. My garment felt sticky and wet.

  There would be no justice for Paimu now. That thought saddened me.

  Even worse than the pain was the knowledge that I would never see Zerzura again. Not in this life or the next.

  My misery was complete.

  Chapter Twelve

  Outcast—Semkah

  I was riding the blue waves of the Northern Sea again—I knew this dream. Each time it unfolded differently, but always I would see Kadeema in the distance and rarely did I reach her. This time, the motion of the waves did not leave me retching on the deck like a pregnant woman. No salty waves threatened to drown me as they had when I was a young man and in other dreams. In this dream, things were different. That both worried and excited me.

  I stood at the bow of the boat confidently, watching the land of Grecia become larger and larger as I drew near its shores. I had a crew, but their faces were elusive, likely unimportant to the drama that was about to unfold.

  I scanned the hills knowing that I would see her. Yes! There she was—high on a hilltop, the highest hilltop. Kadeema! Behind her, her long red curls bounced on the breeze and her bare arms were open and welcoming to me. Too far away to see the expression on her face, I imagined it, peaceful and serene. Her coral lips parted as she whispered my name.

  “Semkah! Semkah! Hurry, my love!” Her straight, proud nose and wide green eyes set her apart from any of the women I knew.

  Suddenly, a mist threatened to cloud my view—I frantically waved my hands and unexpectedly the fog disappeared. I laughed with joy when I discovered that the boat now rested very close to the shore. Soon I would disembark and run up the hill to find her—to be with her again at long last.

  “Not long now, Kadeema!” I called up to her.

  I waved furiously at her as the boat’s anchor fell into the water with a loud splash. The cruel sun rose behind her, and again I could not see her face. Frustration rose within me. To look upon her face again! Her arms were not outstretched anymore; they were at her side, and her hair no longer floated around her. Something was wrong! She was leaving—somehow I knew it!

  Desperately I leaped from the boat into the water. With all my might I swam for the shore, knowing that the time grew short. Splashing to the shore desperate for breath, I forced myself to stand. I shed my dagger and heavy wet tunic
and climbed the hillside on wobbly legs like a drunken man. “Kadeema!” I called, but no answer came. Higher and higher I climbed, navigating sharp rocks and slick muddy patches. Finally reaching the grassy precipice, I stopped to catch my breath before making the last push to the top of the hill. Too winded to speak, I licked my dry, salty lips and threw myself on the crag.

  No one was there. I wept as a man should not, without shame or care for who might witness my weakness. When I had no more tears to shed, I rolled over on my back and stared at the gray sky above me. “Kadeema!” I yelled furiously. “Why have you left me again?”

  The clouds lowered, as they could do only in dreams, until they rested right above me. They moved and shook and parted, and I saw her face again. This time I saw it as clearly as I could see anyone’s, only it hovered above me from the clouds.

  “Why are you here, husband?”

  Surprised and troubled by her question, I smiled at her. “My wife! How I have longed to see you, to touch you!” With shaking fingers I reached for her, but she pulled away. “Come to me, Kadeema. I thought I would never find you.”

  Her face grew sad. “You should not be here, Semkah. This is no place for flesh and blood, my love.” Her face began to disappear from my sight.

  “No! Why do you flee from me?”

  She stared back, her face a mask of solemnity. There was no life there, no desire for me, just sadness and regret. How many times had I traveled here in my dreams and prayed for such a moment? Without moving her lips she whispered, “They’re coming…protect my daughters, Semkah. If you love me, protect them.” She bowed her head, and disappeared, swallowed into the mist that threatened to take me as well. The fallen cloud was freezing to the touch, and my skin crawled as it threatened to envelop me. I began to run—I did not know where—anywhere but into the mist. As I moved, it rolled behind me like a living thing. I could hear the screams and moans of others trapped in the rolling wall of gray that covered the hill. I ran to the cliff’s edge—I had nowhere else to go. As the gray cloud darkened to black and reached for me, I leaped. I screamed and woke up to find Omel standing over me.

  “Brother! Wake up! Your daughter calls you!”

  “Nefret? I thought you were going home.”

  “No, not Nefret. It is Pah who has summoned you. I wished to do just that thing, but my son Alexio has ridden out—foolish boy. He has no patience and did not tell me that he was leaving. I cannot leave without him.”

  “Ridden out where?”

  “He is impatient to prove Nefret’s story. He rode to Siya for other proof instead of waiting for Aitnu’s return from Biyat. Foolish boy! But it is good that I have not left, because Farrah, the Old One, has disappeared along with the other—the Algat girl. That is two disappearances in two days! Something is wrong here at Timia.” Omel paused, and his long legs shuffled nervously as if he did not want to tell me something. Ignoring his Egyptian skirt and kohl-lined eyes, I observed him carefully.

  “Well, what is it?”

  “Nefret left in the night. From the tracks in the sand, it appears as if she traveled to the north. She can easily be found, my brother. Should I go and bring her back? I am sure the mekhma would want to send her off properly, according to the Old Ways.”

  “Indeed I am sure she would not.” I said wearily, Kadeema’s condemning eyes still before me. Now was the time for truth, wasn’t it? I would never see Kadeema again, and my daughters were now mortal enemies. I had allowed this to happen. “Don’t go after her. I will deal with the mekhma. Now that she has been elected by the Council, the mekhma isn’t going to follow the Old Ways, I can assure you of that. No way will she want the tribe to shower Nefret with their silver and gold and send her away happily. Nefret did the right thing, Omel.”

  “I don’t think your other daughter agrees…” he said, continuing in a hushed voice, “and you should not say such things to others, even to me. That could be considered treason now that we have a mekhma.”

  “Then let her send me away too. I am too tired, too old to worry about hurting my daughter’s feelings—and I would feel the same way even if she were the Queen of Egypt!” A chill ran up my spine, and I got up and sloshed cold water on my face in an attempt to purge my mind and heart of the dream. “What has happened to Farrah? Another trip into the desert? Some kind of ritual that she has told us nothing about? She has done this before, disappearing for days and then showing up unharmed. What does her acolyte say?”

  “Nothing, of course. We cannot question her—she took the oath.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Omel said, “This is not like before. Farrah did not simply walk off the oasis.”

  “What makes you say that?” I rubbed my face with the linen towel and reached for my belt.

  “Because there is blood in the sand, much blood. One of the dogs found the trail but so far not Farrah.”

  The tribe would be rattled by this news. Too much was happening—it could only mean that our fortunes had turned and not for the better.

  “You should hurry, brother, and be warned. I am afraid we have awakened a fierce hawk in Pah.”

  “Not we, brother. This was not my idea. It was you who wanted Pah. It was you who wanted to use the Old Ways when it was advantageous to you. Now I must go and deal with her.”

  As I slid my dual blades into my leather harness, I glanced at my snake tattoos. Although the purple ink had faded, it was if they were alive today, alive and ready to protect me from my own ambitious child. I hoped they would.

  With sadness from the dream lingering in my mind and heart, I walked to Pah’s tent and waited to be welcomed in. Pah had chosen blue as her fabric for her royal tent, with a gold top and rich gold cords that streamed from the center pole. Ushered in speedily, I took in my surroundings quickly. My daughter had not wasted any time setting up her tent. A small backless chair sat near the center of the tent, like a throne. So this was how it was to be, then? Not mekhma but queen?

  She came into the tent behind me and took her seat in the chair. Spreading her blue gown about her, she sat serenely enough, but I could tell a storm brewed within her. “Father, is it true that you sent Nefret away? Before our tribe could bless her properly?”

  “I advised Nefret to marry; that is all. She refused and declared her intentions to leave. I counseled against it, but she was resolute. There was no persuading her.”

  Pah was not fooling me; I knew perfectly well that she had no intention of blessing her sister before she left. “More is the pity,” she said, “because now she stands accused of murdering our beloved Farrah and probably Paimu too.”

  A laugh flew out of my throat. “I can’t believe that! Nefret would never harm any creature—especially Paimu! She loved the girl like a…I mean…like a…”

  “Like a sister?”

  I turned red. I did not want to stir Pah to jealousy over poor Paimu.

  “Now, just now, we have found the body of Paimu, and we have found the body of Farrah. Both were stabbed with a knife, stabbed in their bellies. Nefret is missing. No one has seen her. Isn’t that suspicious?”

  “It is unfortunate, but I do not think it suspicious. Are you bringing some sort of charges against your own sister, daughter?”

  Pah’s wide, innocent-looking eyes had deceived me before; I would not fall for it again. She would do what she wanted, but now I had to think of Nefret.

  Without answering me, she pressed on. “And Alexio? Am I to believe it is merely a coincidence that he is gone too?”

  “Alexio left for Siya because he could not wait for Aitnu’s return with the news from Biyat. Your uncle told me this morning. I had no idea he was leaving. Since you seem unsettled by his mission, I assume you did not send him?”

  “Of course not.” With a nod to her husband, Pah accepted a leather pouch from him and put it in her lap. Unwrapping it with hurried fingers, she revealed what was inside.

  “Nefret left this behind in Farrah’s tent. I think this may have been the
reason she killed her. Perhaps the Old One caught her stealing this—I don’t know, but I know my sister never owned such a thing.”

  The emerald and gold necklace fell into her lap and sparkled like a living thing. She picked it up and held it out to me as if it were a snake.

  Blinking like a madman, I stammered, “Where did you get that?”

  “I told you, Father. Nefret left this in Farrah’s tent. The pouch was wrapped in one of her old tunics. She left some other things too, but this I do not recognize. I am sure it does not belong to her. Do you know where it came from? What is so special about it?”

  Accepting the necklace from her, I squeezed it. “This necklace belonged to your mother and her mother before her. The last time I saw it, she was wearing it.”

  Pah rose from her chair, and her hand flew to her mouth. “How? How did Nefret get this?” Snatching the necklace back from me, she turned it over in her hand as if she would find the clues she was looking for written in the gold. There were letters on the back of the emerald pendant, but in a writing I could not understand. No one in the tribe could, except maybe Farrah. I missed the Old One already.

  I had no answers and offered none.

  “How do you know my mother had this necklace on when she disappeared? Perhaps she left it with Farrah? Or left it behind and the old woman hid it?”

  I shrugged. “I can’t know and neither can you, seeing as Farrah is dead now.”

  Yuni said, “It is the necklace of a queen. You should wear it, mekhma. It is yours by right.” He offered to put it around her neck. I watched as she lifted her hair. The young man fastened the necklace, and she spun around so he could appraise her. “Almost as lovely as you, Pah.”

  She smiled, pleased with his comment. But her smile disappeared when she saw the look on my face. “You don’t look pleased, Father. I suppose you are disappointed that I am the one wearing this necklace.”

  “No, I am remembering a dream I had last night. A warning dream, Pah. Your mother would not be happy—is not happy—that you and your sister have parted ways. She saw this. She saw all this the night you were born. She begged me to stop it, but I could not. I listened to the Council. I should have sent one of you away to Omel. Then I could have prevented this. You are strong together, Pah. You belong together, you and Nefret!”