Page 11

7

Karim

He never forgave himself for what happened next.

Karim stood in the dark tomb, his breath coming in short gasps. Djet’s scream still reverberated in the stale air.

Did you hear it?

Djet’s last words echoed in his mind.

It’s coming from the coffin.

Karim held the guttering torch aloft, but the light barely reached the threshold. He’d left Djet in the burial chamber. There had been knocking, then splintering wood, and then—

Stop it , Karim scolded himself. Stop being a fool and go to him. Quickly. The boy could be hurt.

He took a deep, steadying breath, and lowered his free hand to the knife on his belt. Perhaps an animal had attacked the boy—a snake, or some other underground creature.

That doesn’t explain the knocking .

Karim picked his way back through the maze of little soldiers. Perhaps some part of the tomb had come loose and fallen on Djet.

You know it didn’t.

Karim gritted his teeth, willing his mind to be quiet. He was a practical man, but there in the dark, he could feel a kind of madness creeping in.

“Djet?” he whispered, taking another cautious step forward. He hated how small his voice sounded, how fragile and weak. “Djet?”

There was no response.

Karim crossed back into the burial chamber. The sting of smoke and something metallic filled his nostrils. Bile pushed up into his throat as he tried to control his breathing. Djet was nowhere to be seen. Where could he have gone? If something scared him, perhaps he ran out. Karim took two more steps, and his torch illuminated the black granite box and the coffin within. The corner of its lid was just visible on the floor nearby. Trembling, Karim peered inside .

The coffin was empty.

He recoiled from the box, nearly dropping the torch on the ground.

It’s a trick , he thought, his mind reeling. A Khetaran trap. It has to be.

A whimper, soft and wet, sounded to his side. Slowly, he lowered the torch, illuminating a bundle of rags on the ground.

He drew closer.

“No…”

The rags were the remains of familiar clothing, sodden with blood and still hanging from a small shivering body.

Karim fell to his knees next to the boy, frantic, but terrified to touch him. He couldn’t identify any one wound—the blood seemed to come from everywhere at once. Djet’s eyes were closed, and his lips moved, long red trails sliding out from between them.

“It’s going to be all right, hey?” Karim said gently, not believing the words as he said them. “Come on, I have to get you out of here.” Tentatively, he reached out for the boy’s arm.

At his touch, Djet’s eyes flew open. They first focused on Karim, kneeling there in a pool of light, then slid to gaze over Karim’s shoulder.

Karim had witnessed horror in his life. He had heard the cries of sheep as they were eaten alive by lions. He knew the screams of mothers after they’d been told their sons had been killed in battle. But never in his life had he heard a sound as harrowing, as bone-chilling, as the one that escaped the boy’s throat.

Karim shot to his feet, humming with fear. Then, though the torch burned a mere handsbreadth from his face, Karim felt a chill on the back of his neck.

It’s right behind you. It’s right behind you. It’s right—

He ran.

Images of strange painted men and golden treasures flashed before him as he dashed headlong through the darkness, the torch spilling red-hot embers into his wake as it died. He discarded it on the ground and immediately tripped over something in the crowded first chamber, landing hard in the dirt. In an instant he was up again, groping for the door, led only by the finger of sunlight reaching through the crevice they’d opened in the cliffside. He scrambled through the passageway, squeezed his body into the opening, and collapsed under the blinding sun, elbows on knees, sucking in lungfuls of fresh air. After he caught his breath, he squinted at the horizon. The sun sat lower in the sky than he expected. How long were we in there? It felt like only minutes but—

Djet.

The name nearly stopped his heart.

You left him to die.

He leaned against the sunbaked rock face, the heavy pack slipping off his shoulder. He hugged it to his chest, panting, the guilt like a blade in his gut.

I had no choice , he told himself. The kid was going to die either way.

Still, he’d left him to die down there in the dark. Alone.

He shivered.

No, not alone.

Karim had heard rumors about Khetaran magic, of curses that protected their dead from thieves. But he’d never given them a second thought. The Khetarans were an arrogant people, but they weren’t stupid. What better way to prevent the plunder of their tombs than with stories of torment and damnation?

It was a ruse.

Or at least, that’s what Karim had believed.

After what he’d seen in that tomb, he wasn’t so sure. Something had wakened down there. Something… evil. And none of it would have happened if they’d gone home when the other Jackals wanted to. But Karim had felt the tug, had sniffed treasure on the breeze, and like a dog with a bone, he couldn’t let it go. Worse still, he’d brought Djet down with him.

He stared at the stone door, his dread returning in full force. If the thing had strength enough to kill, surely it could escape the tomb. Which meant Karim was still in danger—and so was everyone else.

What have I done?

He threw his shoulder against the door, desperate to shove it back into place. If he could seal the entrance again, the thing would be trapped inside and couldn’t hurt anyone else.

Yet no matter how hard he tried, the door wouldn’t budge. Opening it with levers—and Djet’s help—was one thing, but closing it again proved impossible.

I need to get the others.

Karim stumbled down the cliffside, sending a shower of small stones with him, and ran as fast as he could toward where he’d left the other Jackals.

Babu and Hager were lounging about, eating dried dates and taking long swallows from their waterskins. Their packs lay in a pile, Babu’s spear stuck into the sand nearby. When they heard Karim approaching, they stood, consternation clear on their faces.

“Where were you?” Babu grunted in annoyance. “The sun nearly sets! You want to be food for the lions? We have to hurry back if we’re going to get home in time for supper.”

“Please, Babu,” Karim said, panting. “Just listen.”

“No, you listen, you son of a dog. You’d better have something to show for wasting my time or I’ll—”

“Shut up, Babu!” Karim snarled. “I found something.”

Babu’s cruel, sharp eyes darted to Karim’s bulging pack, to the glint of gold peeking through the mouth of the fabric.

“Found what exactly?” he asked, his interest clearly piqued.

Given the space to speak, Karim hardly knew where to start. “I found a tomb unlike any other I’ve seen. And… there was something down there.”

“If you found a tomb,” Babu broke in, his eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you come for us sooner?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, urgently. “I’ll show you where it is. You have to help me, please.”

“Hey,” Hager said. “Where’s Djet?”

Karim swallowed his next words. A falcon cackled somewhere in the distance.

“Yes,” Babu said, low and dangerous. “Where is Djet, eh, Karim-sen?”

Karim’s pulse quickened. Those eyes. That scream. He started to answer, then faltered. How could he possibly explain?

Karim saw Babu staring at the red stain on his hand. It wasn’t Djet’s blood, but what was he supposed to say? That it came from underneath a statue? Babu would never believe it. Karim swallowed, taking a step back as the reality of the situation began to dawn on him.

Babu’s expression shifted from irritation to distrust the longer it took Karim to reply.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Babu demanded.

Karim put his hands out in front of him. “Yes—but I can explain.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” Babu said, closing the distance between them. “You found something in that valley. Something so good, you wanted to keep it all to yourself. So you killed the boy, and now you come here to trick us, to lead us into a trap so you can kill us too. You may think you’re smart, Karim-sen, but your act doesn’t fool me.”

“It’s not an act! There’s a monster down there, and it killed Djet. I know you don’t trust me, but I’m telling you the truth!”

Babu barked a laugh. “A monster! All right, sen, here’s what you’re going to do,” the big man said, reaching for the dagger at his belt. “First, you’re going to hand over that pack. Then you’re going to lead us to the tomb. And after that, if you do exactly as I say, I promise to kill you quickly.”

Karim backed away, his heart racing. “You’re making a mistake,” he said, his eyes flicking to Hager, who’d pulled the spear from the sand and was advancing toward them, cutting off Karim’s escape. Babu loomed over him like a monolith, casting a long shadow across the sand. “I swear to you! The Khetaran curses, they’re real! You need to help me reseal the tomb, before that creature gets out and kills us all!”

Babu scoffed. “Seal it? What, with the treasure still inside? How stupid do you think I am? Now, either you give me that pack or I cut you down and take it. Hager and I can follow your tracks and find the tomb ourselves. It’s really up to you, sen. Whether you die now or later makes no difference to me.”

Karim’s set his jaw, his hand tightening on the pack’s strap.

Babu shrugged. “As you wish.” He unsheathed the knife.

For such a large man, Babu moved incredibly fast.

He lunged with a guttural cry, slashing out with the dagger. Karim scurried backward, but it was like trying to evade a hippopotamus at close range. The first attack bit through the fabric of his robe, but the second found the flesh beneath, cutting a deep furrow across Karim’s chest. He doubled over, hissing with pain as blood began to seep from the wound. But he had no time to worry about that. A moment later, Babu kicked him in the gut, and Karim dropped to the ground like a stone.

He lay there writhing, his wound forgotten in the struggle to breathe. He rolled onto his back, gasping, his mind working furiously. The pain, like the blazing sun, was nearly blinding. He tried to speak, to stall for time, but all that came out was a shuddering moan. Karim dug his fingers deep into the sand.

Babu stood over him and sheathed his knife. “Not so clever now, are you?” the big man said with a sneer and kicked him again.

Karim cried out as stars exploded before his eyes. He tried to curl his body into a ball to protect himself from the blows, but Babu put his foot on Karim’s chest, pinning him in place. He felt his ribs buckle under the weight.

Babu chuckled. “Always lording it over us with your talent for sniffing out treasure. Well, we don’t need you anymore, do we? This haul of yours should keep us comfortable for quite a while.”

Removing his foot, he knelt beside Karim, groping for the pack that was half-trapped underneath Karim’s limp body.

“Knee-deep in woman flesh too.” Babu’s breath was hot and sour on Karim’s face. “Perhaps I’ll snap up one of your little sisters, hey? They’re nearly ripe for the picking.”

At that, Karim forgot his pain. With a cry of fury, he threw a fistful of sand into Babu’s face.

Babu shrieked in surprise, clambering to his feet to wipe the stinging sand from his eyes.

“I’ll kill you, you—!”

Karim sat up and buried the blade of his own knife into Babu’s thigh, straight up to the hilt.

The unfinished curse transformed into a scream. Karim jerked the knife out again, and the big man crashed to the ground, clutching at his leg and its growing red stain. Karim got up, one arm wrapped protectively around his bruised ribs. The sudden movement sharpened the pain—but the will to stay alive had sharpened his mind.

With Babu out of commission, Hager advanced with the spear, aiming it directly at Karim’s heart.

“Drop the knife or I’ll run you through where you stand!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over Babu’s howls of agony. “Don’t think I won’t!”

Karim licked his lips. Hager was a coward, and if he was going to murder him, he’d probably have done it by now. Still, Karim wasn’t eager to test him. He dropped his bloody knife.

“Now give me your pack!” Hager demanded.

“Kill him, you fool!” Babu roared from where he lay, spit flying from his lips. “What are you waiting for?”

Karim’s gaze flicked from Babu’s bloody leg to the glittering spearhead hovering a handsbreadth away. It was trembling, just slightly.

“All right, easy, easy,” he said. He allowed the strap of his pack to slip from his shoulder, and took the heavy bundle in his hands. Babu watched him suspiciously, hate burning in his eyes. Hager nodded, urging him to hand it over.

“Catch.” Karim threw the pack at Hager. Startled, the thin man dropped the spear to pluck it from the air. In the same instant, Karim sprung forward, bringing his fist around in an arc and connecting with Hager’s left temple.

He crumpled like a pile of sticks.

Karim was running before Hager hit the ground, grabbing up his pack and knife and stumbling through the sand as quickly as his injured body would allow. Babu screamed curses at his back, calling him every bad name Karim had ever heard—and some he hadn’t. The big man was so mad that he managed to get to his feet and give chase for a short distance, which was impressive given the amount of blood pouring out of his leg.

“You can never come back!” Babu shouted, his voice growing more and more distant. “I will tell everyone what you’ve done. You step foot into any tribe, anywhere , and I will know it! And when I find you, and I will slit your throat from ear to ear like the dog you are!”

Karim kept running.

“You are a dead man, do you hear me?” Babu yelled, barely audible. “You are nothing and no one!”

The next time Karim chanced a look back, Babu was nowhere to be seen.

When Karim could no longer run, he walked. And when he couldn’t walk, he continued anyway. If he didn’t keep going, there was still a chance that the others could catch up to him. From the position of the sun, he knew he was moving toward the river and the outskirts of the Khetaran kingdom. He wasn’t welcome there either, but finding some kind of sanctuary was his only chance of survival.

The evening fell quiet after that. The desert rolled in great, unbroken waves in every direction, and although Karim had lived his entire life in the Red Lands, without the comfort of his people close by, it quickly became a forbidding place.

The pain in his ribs was bad, and the heat was worse, but neither compared to the torment of his shame. Karim shifted his pack, the weight of its treasures reminding him of what they’d cost.

What will you do with your share of the riches?

As Karim walked, he imagined the Jackals making their way back to camp, where a girl would be waiting for Djet. He imagined Babu telling her that the boy she cared for was never coming home. Djet would never bring her a bottle of jasmine oil or a lovely new dress. And as he imagined the girl’s grief, Karim felt the weight of the riches in his pack become heavier with every step.

***

Keeping the setting sun at his back, Karim walked east toward the Khetaran border. Babu had made it clear that going back to camp wasn’t an option, so his only choice was to find someone willing to take him in. He thought of his mother and his siblings. What would the Jackals say about him to the rest of the Anen?

They’ll say that I betrayed them.

That I abandoned my family.

That I’m a murderer.

His mother wouldn’t believe them, but what would it matter? Not only would his family be forced to live in disgrace, but they will have suffered another loss.

He thought of his brother’s anger, his sisters’ sorrow, his mother’s stoic fortitude. She’s endured so much already, now she’ll have to endure this too.

Thoughts of Djet haunted him as well. There were moments, as he trudged up one side of a sand dune and half fell down the other, when he felt that the boy still walked at his side. It was comforting, until he remembered Djet wasn’t really there.

But the worst thoughts were of that distant cliffside and the door, left open just enough to allow whatever lurked within to get out.

It had all gone so wrong, so quickly.

A gust of sand blew into his face and he coughed. The pain was searing.

He used his head covering to shield his face from the elements, leaving only his eyes to bear the stinging wind. His body felt like a bag of loose bones, and he was certain he had at least one broken rib. The knife wound had stopped bleeding, but the fabric of his robes stuck to it. At some point, he’d have to pull it free to bind the wound. The thought made him swoon, forcing him to stop a moment to rest.

The truth was, he had no idea how far it might be to the nearest village. It could be one hour, or it could be seven. The first would mean his salvation. The second…

If anyone can do it—you can!

It was almost as if Djet were right there, whispering into his ear.

“Are you sure about that?” Karim croaked in reply. “Because right now, things don’t look so good, sen.” He had no food, no water, and very, very little hope.

More time passed, and the sun dropped to the horizon, melting into a mirage that stretched across the landscape. Karim licked his dry, cracked lips. The illusion reminded him of a glittering riverbank. But he’d lived in the Red Lands long enough to know it was a cruel trick the desert played on dying men.

Karim reached the top of a dune and was about to make his way down the other side when his legs gave out from beneath him. He cried out, toppling forward, and rolled end over end to the bottom, where he landed flat on his back.

He almost didn’t get up. It would have been so easy to lie there. To give up and sleep. His body certainly wanted him to. Sure, he might get eaten by lions, but was that so bad? He was about to doze off when Djet’s voice seemed to call to him again.

Look, Karim-sen!

“Leave me alone, boy,” Karim muttered, spitting out a mouthful of sand. “Can’t you see I’m trying to die?”

What do you see?

Even in death, Djet wouldn’t let him be. Karim grunted as he struggled to his feet, a mad kind of laughter bubbling up in his throat. He looked around.

“I see nothing!” he cried into the vast emptiness. “Do you hear me? Nothing behind me, nothing ahead, just a useless expanse of…”

That’s when he saw it, as clear as day on the shifting horizon. A small stone structure, half-ruined, with several broken columns like jagged teeth.

“It can’t be,” he whispered, and stumbled toward the edifice with renewed vigor. As he got closer, he almost expected the structure to vanish—another trick of the light—but it didn’t. And before too long, he found himself standing right in front of it.

Though crumbling, the structure had once been grand, with gray limestone blocks that were beautifully cut and stacked with precision. The exterior walls were engraved with wondrous images: lotus flowers, rearing lions, great animal-headed figures, and the strange Khetaran writing.

Best of all, though, was the well.

It was perhaps only a few handsbreadth in diameter, but Karim had the feeling there was water to be found at the bottom.

He put his hand on the wall, still not quite believing that it was real. The abandoned building was the perfect shelter for the night. He could rest, fill his waterskin from the well, then continue his journey in the morning before it got too hot.

He was so overcome with relief that he didn’t notice the footprints in the sand. The pile of burnt animal bones. The smell of smoke in the air.

So, he was really quite surprised when he heard a soft canine growl and something sharp poked him in the back.

“Make one wrong move,” a gruff voice said, “and I’ll run you through.”

Karim sighed and put his hands up in surrender. “Would you believe you’re the second person to make me that offer today?”

“Turn around. Slowly.”

Karim did. Standing before him was a black dog with a long snout and pointed ears, and a grizzled old man who may as well have been built from the same stone as the building behind him. He had a square, chiseled face, wide nose, and a thick coat of wiry white hair covering his entire body. Karim might have mistaken him for one of his fellow tribesmen, except for the Khetaran lilt in his voice. Khetarans were known for keeping their bodies smooth and hairless, but it appeared as if this man had long given up the practice.

“I’m not armed, hey?” Karim said. “Just a traveler seeking refuge.”

“Don’t get many travelers up this way. Criminals mostly,” the man growled. He studied Karim with suspicion, his eyes stuck in a permanent squint.

The dog sniffed at the bloodstains on Karim’s clothes.

“I realize how bad this looks,” Karim said, pulling his hand away when the dog began licking it.

“Do you now?” The man snapped his fingers at his canine companion. “Behkai, heel.” The dog whined but returned to his side.

“I do. I promise, I mean you no—”

The pack slipped from his shoulder, and the large scarab-shaped amulet he’d pried from the king’s coffin slipped out. It landed on its side, rolling in a slow circle before coming to rest between them.

Karim swallowed. “I can explain.”

The man didn’t reply. He stared at the blue stone on the ground, like it was a piece of sky that had fallen to earth.

“You see,” Karim went on, “I was walking along, and wouldn’t you know it, that stone was just lying there…”

The man bent to pick up the amulet, his spear all but forgotten. He ran his fingers over the engravings, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“You dare lie to a priest?”

Karim blinked at the brawny, hairy old man. “You’re a priest?”

The man tore his gaze from the amulet to give Karim a withering look. “Yes, and you’re a tomb robber.” He stepped forward, shaking the stone in Karim’s face. “And if you tell me where you really got this, I’ll let you live. Tell it well, and I might throw in a meal and a place to sleep.”

In the west, the sun finally dipped under the horizon, throwing the desert into almost instantaneous darkness—like someone blowing out a candle.

What are you going to do? Djet’s voice whispered.

Karim nodded to the priest. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

What Jackals are meant to do, sen , he thought. Survive.

***

That evening, Karim sat with the priest by a crackling fire in the open courtyard of the building, underneath a roof of stars. The priest had given him water from his well, both to drink and to clean his wounds. The cool night air was a balm, soothing his burnt skin and aching muscles. He’d explained his injuries by telling Pa he’d gotten into a “disagreement” with a friend, and thankfully, the priest hadn’t pressed him for more details.

From a series of chambers that Karim assumed formed the priest’s living quarters, the man had brought hunks of rough bread, a bunch of white onions, and a jar of beer. Karim hadn’t wasted a moment digging in. He was ravenous. It was a simple meal, and it was exactly what he needed. As soon as the sweet beer and nourishing bread hit his stomach, he felt more like himself again. The dog, Behkai, had made himself comfortable by his side, staring at the food in Karim’s lap and licking his lips. The giddy madness that had been creeping over Karim receded, leaving his mind blissfully clear.

And with that clarity, came questions.

“So, Pasenhor,” he began, struggling to pronounce the strange name the priest had offered him. “This is your home, this place?”

“Call me Pa,” the priest rumbled. “And yes, it is. Although more importantly, it is a temple. A House of Khnum—though I’m sure that means very little to you.” He scoffed. “Very little to most of Khetara, I’m sorry to say.”

“Khnum,” Karim mused. It was a round word, rolling like a ball in his mouth. “He is one of your gods, hey?”

Pa nodded. “One of our oldest.” He gestured toward a faded painting of a ram-headed figure. The figure held a jar from which water flowed into a river below. “God of the Iteru, the Divine Potter—he who sits at the Great Wheel and forms man out of clay, placing him in the wombs of our mothers and onto Fate’s path.”

He paused, gazing into the shadows of the sanctuary beyond the courtyard. “This temple guards an oracle Khnum gave to our people long, long ago. An old king placed it here for safekeeping, so that when the time came, the word of Khnum would be remembered and the people of Khetara would take heed.” He huffed and spat a piece of grit into the fire.

“If this Khnum is so great, why don’t your people worship him anymore? Why does his House sit forgotten by all except you?”

Pa stopped chewing and gave him a look. “Time, for one. Khnum is one of the old gods, and people are fickle. Gods fall in and out of fashion like women’s dresses, and traditions are forgotten. Over the past few generations, Amun has taken precedence in the north, and Ra in the south. Amun can also take the form of a ram, but Khnum is the original ram-headed god. The one true lamb.”

Karim didn’t comment in hopes that Pa would continue. Despite his feelings about the Khetarans, he was fascinated by the priest’s story. Sure enough, the old man had more to say.

“The current king hasn’t helped. Under Amunmose, the kingdom slips ever further into perdition. Do you know the last time someone from the surrounding villages came here to pay their respects? At least a season—perhaps two!” He shook his head. “The king thinks his three children and their fortuitous birth legitimized his rule, but there are many Khetarans who still believe—”

Pa stopped himself and chuckled, before shaking a gnarled finger at Karim. “You’re very clever, aren’t you, boy? Trying to get me riled up, talking all night. You’re probably waiting for me to tell you where you can find more Khetaran treasures. No, no. The deal was—I ask the questions, you answer. If you don’t like it, I have a very sharp spear to reintroduce you to.”

As before, Karim held up both hands in surrender and said nothing.

Pa refilled his cup of beer. After a moment’s consideration, he refilled Karim’s cup too.

“Now, tell me how you came upon this scarab.” He held the lapis amulet in his palm.

Karim shivered, a finger of cold night air slithering across his neck. “I discovered an old tomb in a valley west of here. It was hidden in the cliffside, untouched for hundreds of years, maybe more. I don’t know a lot about Khetarans, but I’ve seen enough tombs to know that this one was ancient, and not only that, it was the tomb of a king.”

He expected the priest to be surprised by this revelation, but Pa expressed only confusion. “It is… troubling,” he said, studying the stone.

“What is?”

“I have been a priest for many years—since Sematawy’s reign. But before Unification, I studied to be a scribe. It served me well, not only to be skilled in reading and writing the gods’ words, but also to be educated in Khetara’s long history. One of the first documents I produced during my tutelage was a complete list of Khetaran pharaohs. As you can imagine, it is a long list and good practice for any scribe. I wrote the name of each and every pharaoh and memorized them all.

“This here,” he said, pointing to the oval shape carved into the stone, “is a shenu. It is a circle of protection we draw around the names of our kings. Names are powerful, you know, and must be protected at all cost. If evil comes to know your true name, they can harm you gravely.”

Karim leaned over to see the stone better in the firelight. There were four symbols: what looked like a folded cloth, a loaf of bread, a jagged line, and a vulture. “So the word inside the circle is the name of the king who was buried in that tomb? I’d wondered.”

“It is,” Pa agreed. “His name was Setnakht.” He pursed his lips. “There’s only one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“There has never been a king by that name.”

It was Karim’s turn to look confused. “There must be some mistake.”

“There is no mistake. Khetarans are famed for our record-keeping abilities. We know how much grain was grown fifty seasons ago and how many lions the pharaoh killed on his nineteenth birthday. You think we would forget a king’s entire reign? Not possible.” He hesitated, his face thoughtful. “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless it was erased from history on purpose.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

Pa shrugged. “I’ve heard rumors of pharaohs being struck from the records, but I never thought it could be done. A king would have to do something truly vile to earn such a punishment…” He turned over the stone and squinted at it, brushing at the dust with his hand. “There’s something else here. Faint, but still legible.”

Karim felt a chill. “What does it say?”

“‘This is the heart of a king,’” Pa replied. He looked up at Karim. “This is strange magic, thief. I must know more. If I were a younger man, I would travel to the Great Temple of Amun for answers. The oldest records in Khetara are kept there. If there remains any evidence of your missing pharaoh, that’s where to find it.” He sighed. “But a young man I am not. The journey is long and arduous—I’m not sure I’m up to the task anymore. So, for now, I’ll have to appease my curiosity with whatever it is that you know. Tell me: What else did you see down in that tomb?”

Karim thought of the bleeding statue, of the strange god on the tomb walls, and of the creature he’d awoken. If he told Pa what happened, maybe he would understand. Maybe he’d know what to do.

Are you really so quick to trust a Khetaran?

Karim had never broken bread with one before, no less confessed such a secret. Pa seemed to be a good man, a man of honor, but he was still one of the river people, and Karim knew better than to let his guard down so easily. What would the priest think, if he told him about the monster he’d awoken? Would he believe him? Or would he, like Babu, simply think that Karim was merely covering up his own murderous acts?

No , he thought. I think I’ve confessed enough for one night.

“I’m very tired,” Karim demurred. “Maybe I can answer your questions tomorrow, after a bit of rest?”

Pa grumbled. “Isn’t it a bit early for a young pup like yourself?”

“Well, I lost a lot of blood. Then I nearly died in the desert, so—”

“Pah!” the priest barked, swatting away his words. “Fine. Sleep. Behkai will keep the snakes at bay—won’t you, boy?”

Behkai’s tongue lolled from his open mouth, showing many bright teeth.

“Well, the beast likes you,” Pa said, crossing his arms. “That’s saying something.”

“Will you go inside now?” Karim asked, settling on the ground with his pack for a pillow.

Pa poked at the fire with the tip of his spear, causing the embers to flicker and glow. “Eh, I’ll stay here a while to make sure you don’t try anything stupid.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you enjoy my company?”

The priest snorted. “Don’t push your luck, thief. I’d be just as happy to gut you and let Behkai have you for his dinner.”

Karim closed his eyes and smiled. He thought sleep would come quickly, what with the warm fire and his full belly, but he found himself awake long after both Pa and Behkai were snoring. He turned to look at the amulet, sitting nearby on a piece of cloth that Pa had brought to clean it. It made him think of that lonely, desolate valley, and of that tomb’s open door.

“Setnakht,” Karim whispered and immediately regretted saying it. It sounded less like a name, and more like a curse.