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14

Sita

The dead geese lay in a pile on the prow of the hunting ship, their pink legs curled under them, golden eyes staring. Sita lounged under a canopy nearby, nursing a cup of wine. She gazed at the birds, their downy feathers blowing in the breeze coming off the river, amazed that moments ago they’d been soaring through the air, blood churning through their veins.

Alive and free , she thought, until—

“Got you!”

Mery stood on a papyrus skiff next to the larger boat, a polished wooden stick gripped in one hand. He was naked aside from a short pleated schenti. Bending down, he pulled a dead goose from the marshy waters and held it up, raising a cheer from the revelers on the ship.

Fowling with sticks was one of Mery’s favorite pastimes, and Sita wasn’t sure what he loved more—the art of the hunt or the glory of the kill. Sita enjoyed sailing, and the heft of a spear in her hand, but never really developed a taste for the hunt itself. Still, she almost always accompanied her brother on his expeditions. After all, it was a rare chance for her to get away from the palace for a long afternoon.

Mery locked eyes with her, his grin dimming when he saw she wasn’t cheering like the others. Dropping his weapon onto the skiff, he took up the long oar and poled himself alongside the prow of the ship. From there, he nimbly hopped onboard and crouched next to her, his chest heaving with exertion. His body glistened under the bright sun, as lean and sleek as a panther.

“A gift,” he said, dropping the sodden corpse onto Sita’s lap.

Sita jerked upright, spilling her cup of wine. Her thin dress was soaked through. “Mery!” Repulsed, she picked up the dead goose and laid it on top of the pile with the other birds.

Her brother laughed, and some of the other revelers joined him, because the prince should never laugh alone.

“You see the thanks I get for all my hard work?” Mery called out to the group. “How very rude .” He gave her a playful nudge before turning to the others to accept congratulatory pats on the back.

Sita’s head swam. She’d gotten used to being intoxicated, so much so that being sober had become too awful to bear, but there was something about the goose’s soft, heavy corpse and the constant sway of the anchored ship that made her queasy.

I won’t have any more to drink , she thought, knowing it was a lie.

“I don’t like it either, See-see,” said a small voice. Sita turned to find Maet clambering up to the prow, her black braid swaying with the movement. She clung to Sita’s side, scowling at the dead birds. “I liked them better when they were up in the sky,” she said, pouting. “Now they’re all broken. Mamet says if I break my toys, I won’t get to play with them anymore.”

“That’s true,” Sita agreed. “If we love our toys, we should take good care of them.”

At this, Mery returned to them, tickling the little girl under the chin. “Ah, but you’ll like these geese very much when Cook roasts them up for your supper tonight, won’t you, little kitten?”

Maet giggled, then gave a weak smile.

Sita studied her. “Are you feeling all right, Maet? You look a little pale.”

Maet shrugged. “My belly hurts. It’s been hurting all the time. Mamet said to come breathe the air from the river. She said that might make me feel better.” She leaned her head on Sita’s shoulder. Then something caught her interest.

“Are you playing Mehen?” she called out to one of the young men on the lower deck. “I want to play! I want to play!”

She dashed over to the table where the boys were setting up the game, and Sita watched her with longing. Sita had always been in such a hurry to leave childhood, to dive into the adult world headfirst. But ever since she’d done it, since she’d reached the deepest waters and saw what lived at the bottom—she’d felt like she was drowning. She’d give anything to go back in time to those blissful, innocent days. She’d give anything not to carry the burden of knowledge on her shoulders…

Sita reached down to retrieve her cup and hefted the wine jug in her hand. Empty.

How many days until Father dies?

The thought came unbidden.

Four? Five?

Spilled wine had dried on her fingers. The stains looked like blood.

One?

She stood abruptly and went to the little table that held a plate of food and a jug of fresh water, and poured the water over her trembling hands until they were clean. That done, she turned to watch Mery. He’d poled his skiff back to the edge of the reeds and was waiting for the men trudging through the marsh to drive more birds in his direction.

Things will be better when Mery is on the throne , she told herself. This was her conclusion after days and days of internal struggle—and she felt comforted by it. Mery was always right and she trusted him. Why should that change now?

She watched him hold his hunting stick aloft with perfect stillness. He was the image of a king in his prime, a man who could command a kingdom, lead an army, bring an enemy to his knees. Their father couldn’t do any of those things.

What Mery was doing was distasteful, yes, but wasn’t it also necessary? In essence, he was putting the welfare of the Khetaran people above the life of one man, even though that man was his own father—and the king. Such an act took courage, and wasn’t that the sign of a mighty leader? Looking at him, it was easy to believe that Mery would lead Khetara back to greatness. She must not do anything to threaten that future. She, too, must have courage.

Sita told herself these things, and she almost believed them.

Taking up a plate of food, she walked to the edge of the boat and sat down, trailing her toes in the water. She bit into a fresh fig and gazed down into the river, where white and orange fish swam just under the surface. Sita was relaxing there, eating and listening to the gameplay behind her, when suddenly all the fish scattered.

A dark shadow filled the water beneath her feet.

She stopped chewing.

“Mery.”

Her brother didn’t hear her. One of the men who’d been wading through the reeds had gone out to speak to him.

“Perhaps we should move on, my prince,” the man said, standing waist-deep in the water. “I’m afraid there are no birds left in this area.”

“All right,” Mery replied. “We’ll make one more stop before heading home.”

Sita scooted back and set her plate on the deck. “Mery…” she said again, louder this time. The shadow was moving toward her brother’s skiff, growing larger as it rose to the surface.

“What?” Mery snapped irritably, turning toward her.

There’s something in the water , she wanted to say, but the words didn’t get out in time.

In the next instant, a dark creature of impossible size erupted from the river. Its scaled armor glistened in the sunlight, and its enormous maw was open wide, revealing long rows of dagger-like teeth.

“Crocodile!” someone screamed, and then—chaos.

Time slowed to a crawl as Sita watched, paralyzed. The crocodile lunged at the man in the water, clamping onto his torso and tearing into his flesh. The man shrieked as he was pulled, thrashing, under the water. Half a dozen other men burst from the reeds, pointing and shouting and raising their spears and bows. Mery stood unsteadily on the skiff, trying to keep it from overturning in the churning water. On the ship, the revelers dropped what they were doing and ran to peer over the side, horrified as the horny ridges of the beast’s back resurfaced, heading straight for Mery.

“Kill it!” a man shouted. “It’s going for the prince!”

Sita watched one of the young archers point his bow as the great crocodile sprang from the river with incredible force. Mery gazed up at it, mouth open, eyes wide.

If that archer shoots his arrow, it won’t hit the crocodile , Sita thought. It’ll hit Mery!

“Wait!” Sita screamed, but too late.

The archer loosed the arrow.

Then, inexplicably, Mery closed his eyes and dropped to one knee. The arrow sailed over his head and into the crocodile’s mouth.

The beast twisted with the impact of the blow and fell back into the water. The resulting wave pushed Mery’s skiff back to where the armed men were standing, and they caught and steadied it. Everyone stared as the injured crocodile’s horny ridges cut through the water past the ship and disappeared downriver.

It was over.

Sita nearly collapsed with relief.

“My prince, are you all right?” one of the attendants asked Mery.

“Yes,” Mery replied. He sounded strangely distracted. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Thanks be to Amun,” the attendant continued. “Truly, he has protected you this day.” He shot a nasty glare at the archer, who’d gone pale with fear. He, like Sita, must have realized that he’d almost killed the prince. If Mery hadn’t dropped to his knee at exactly that moment, the arrow would have struck him square in the chest.

Her brother must have realized it too, and Sita wondered if Mery would execute the incompetent archer right then and there. But the prince seemed completely uninterested in killing anyone or excoriating his men for their negligence. To everyone’s surprise, he simply poled his skiff back to the boat, climbed aboard, and walked to the prow to sit in Sita’s chair under the canopy. He glanced into the empty wine jar and snapped his fingers at one of the concubines sitting nearby.

“Wine,” he said simply, and she rushed to retrieve some. Everyone else on the ship took that as a sign to return to their activities, and a warm chatter rose once again from the group.

Sita approached her brother with caution. Perhaps he was in shock? Once the concubine brought wine and poured some into a cup for him, Mery took a long drink and leaned back, staring at the river where the crocodile had emerged. A dismembered arm had risen to the surface and floated there. A white fish came to nibble at it. Sita grimaced and turned back to Mery.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked.

Her brother didn’t meet her eyes, didn’t react. He simply stared at the river, chewing his lip.

“Kneel,” he muttered.

“What?”

“When confronted with the power of Sobek, kneel,” Mery replied. “That’s what she said.”

“That’s what who said?”

He looked at her, his eyes bright with wonder. “That girl. The little seer from the temple,” he said. “She interpreted my dream, and she was right. When I saw the crocodile, her message was the first thing that came to mind.”

Sita remembered the strange girl she’d seen at the Bast Festival and wondered if he was talking about the same person. “ That’s why you dropped to your knee when you did?”

“Yes,” Mery replied. “That little priestess saved my life.” He scoffed, then smiled. “Oh, this is very good.”

Sita was about to ask what he meant, when someone cried out in alarm.

What now?

A few of the revelers crowded around a small figure lying on the deck.

“Someone come quickly!” one of the women shouted. “She needs help!”

Sita gasped.

Maet had collapsed.