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“Stay.”

The dog cocked his head and studied Karim’s outstretched hand.

“I have to go away for a while,” Karim said slowly, as if enunciating each word might help Behkai understand their meaning. “And I can’t bring you with me, so I want you to stay with the boat. ” He pointed to the skiff anchored to the riverbank behind them.

Behkai blinked. Having enjoyed a nice long rest, the black dog seemed to have recovered from his encounter with the creature the night before. Karim hated leaving him alone while he went to the temple, but he had no other choice.

“You know how to handle yourself, hey?” Karim went on. “Don’t let anyone steal the skiff, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Behkai whined. The dog stared at him, his expression sending a message so clear that even Karim, who was still new to canine companionship, could understand.

“Yes, I will bring food,” Karim said with a sigh.

Behkai licked his chops and didn’t budge when Karim adjusted the white tunic Raetawy had given him and made his way toward the temple gates. After dragging the skiff onto the riverbank earlier that day, he’d stripped down to his loincloth and dipped his hands into the river, splashing the cool water over his bruised and battered body before slipping into the gifted white tunic. Thinking he might need them later, he’d scrubbed the blood and grime from his dark robes too, and hung them on the crook of the skiff to dry in the sun.

“Well,” he muttered nervously as he looked up at the towering structure before him, “if not now, then when?”

Of all the wonders Karim had seen on his journey upriver, the Temple of Amun was the most alluring. A line of ram-headed lion statues led up to two massive pylons, each flanked by flagpoles sporting long flapping banners in red and green. Every fingerbreadth of the temple’s high walls was carved and painted with symbols, colorful geometric patterns, and larger-than-life figures of men and gods. Crowds of people swarmed around its entrance—soldiers, peasants, vendors leading donkeys laden with merchandise, and serious bald-headed men dressed in white. Karim noticed some larger boats anchored nearby where groups of workers in loincloths labored, lifting boxes of goods from their holds and carrying them toward the temple gates.

It must be a supply delivery day , Karim deduced. It wasn’t going to be easy to gain access to the temple records, but it would be a lot easier on a day when strangers were streaming in and out of the temple on a regular basis. If he could slip inside unnoticed, he’d only need to figure out where they kept the records. Bribe someone to help him, perhaps. One of the priceless objects from his pack might loosen some lips.

Unless of course, I offer it to the wrong person and get caught.

Karim gulped, the thought of losing a hand—or his head—stopping him in his tracks.

What am I doing?

Sure, he’d started this journey because he’d promised the old priest to find answers about Setnakht and his relationship to the Oracle of the Lamb, but things had changed. The monster was dead. He’d left it impaled on that tree. It wouldn’t be following him any longer, nor hurting anyone else. Didn’t that make an end of it? Whatever else the oracle predicted, it had nothing to do with him. Why dig into this nightmare any further? What good would it do?

I could take my treasures to the Thonis market, as I’d planned, trade them for the best weapons in the land, and sail back to the Anen , he thought. Hager and Babu wouldn’t stand a chance against a Khetaran bow and khopesh. They wouldn’t see it coming. I’d cut them down, take back my family—

Karim shook his head. No. Just because he’d killed Setnakht, didn’t mean the events of the oracle would never come to pass. The old priest had warned him that the impending disaster wouldn’t only affect the Khetarans. If Pasenhor was right, then Karim’s family still wasn’t safe from it. A few Khetaran weapons wouldn’t be enough to protect them.

Despite his best efforts, his mind was inexorably drawn back that distant valley. To a tomb that was now the final resting place of a boy who’d deserved better. He’d opened that door. He was the one who set all this in motion—or so it seemed. It was his responsibility to make sure no one else was hurt by his actions. Whether he liked it or not, he needed to honor his vow and try to find an answer.

Djet’s voice came once more into his ear.

If anyone can find it, you can.

Karim sighed. Why did that boy have to go and believe in him?

“Curse you, Djet,” he whispered, resuming his trek toward the temple. “If I die today, it’ll be all your fault.”

***

As big as the temple looked from the riverbank, it was nothing compared to the sensation of standing before its impossibly high walls. For a moment, he forgot himself and just stared, awestruck, at the majesty before him.

“Eh! Move it, will you?” a grating voice burst out. “Can’t you see you’re in the way?”

Startled, Karim turned to see a long-faced man leading an equally long-faced donkey with heavy cloth sacks slung across its back.

“Sorry,” he said, sidestepping to let the man pass.

The long-faced man pulled the donkey along, muttering irritably. Karim followed them up to the temple gates, where twin statues sat on enormous thrones on either side. The statues were of a strange man with a long beard and blue skin, wearing a tall golden crown that resembled two feathers side by side.

Amun, I presume. Karim remembered what Pasenhor had told him about Thonis’s patron—that he was the god of mystery, of all that was hidden and unseen.

Taking care to walk casually behind the long-faced man and his donkey, Karim advanced toward the open gates, where several shiny, hairless officials in white tunics stood inspecting all the goods coming into the temple.

“What’s this?” one of them asked the long-faced man.

“Natron for the embalmers,” he grunted.

The official waved him inside, and Karim quietly moved close to the donkey, laying one hand lightly on a bulging sack, as if to imply ownership. The official, assuming that Karim and the man were together, barely gave him a second glance as he passed through the gates. As soon as he was clear, Karim slipped away, leaving the unwitting natron vendor and his donkey to complete their delivery alone.

Finding himself in a large courtyard, Karim hid in the shadow of one of the painted columns to take stock of his surroundings. Directly ahead, there was an entrance to a grand roofed hall, but on both sides of the courtyard were passageways that led deeper into the temple proper.

I definitely need a guide , he thought. There’s no way I’ll be able to navigate this place unnoticed. He scanned the crowd, looking for a likely candidate. Someone dressed like a priest, who knows their way around. Someone young and ambitious enough to take a bribe …

His eyes passed over a girl of maybe thirteen years, bald and dressed in a simple white dress. She looked at him curiously.

Too young , Karim decided. He kept searching.

Finally, his gaze landed upon a moon-faced man leaning against a column, paring his nails and looking bored. Despite his youth, he had rough hands, the skin worn and thickened with use.

Probably a laborer of some kind. A low-ranking priest. Perfect.

Karim sidled up to him. “Excuse me,” he said in a low voice. “You couldn’t tell me where I could find the House of Life, could you?”

The young man glanced up at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Who wants to know?”

“Just someone who’s come a very long way,” Karim answered, shrugging off his pack. He picked out a shiny gold buckle, studded with obsidian, and flashed it at the priest. “And one who will be happy to make it worth your time,” Karim added. “Trade this, and you’ll never have to do a hard day’s work again.”

Karim placed the buckle in the young man’s palm, who studied it with interest.

“So you’ll tell me where I can find the temple records?” Karim asked hurriedly. He was relieved that the priest seemed amenable, but he needed to move quickly. The long-faced man and his donkey were leaving, and any moment now, the gate official might notice his business partner was missing.

The young man looked up at him and grinned, a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

“No,” he said. “But I will alert the gatemen of a trespasser and likely criminal. I’m sure I’ll be commended for my bravery.” He chuckled. “But thanks for the buckle.”

Karim felt the blood drain from his face.

Shit.

The priest turned toward the gate, ready to call out and ruin everything, and there was nothing Karim could do about it.

Go looking for trouble, and you’ll always find it…

He was about to make a run for the gates, when—

“Nehshi, you found him!” a childlike voice rang out.

Karim turned to see the bald-headed girl he’d seen earlier beaming at the befuddled priest.

“You know this man, Nefermaat?” Nehshi asked.

“I have been waiting for him,” the girl replied. “He’s come from a faraway kingdom to peruse our collection of papyri. Isn’t that right?” She turned to Karim, eyebrows raised meaningfully.

Karim had no idea why the girl had stepped up to claim him, but he decided it was best to play along.

“Yes, of course,” he answered, adopting a formal tone. “My apologies, sena. I did not see you when I arrived, so I offered this young man a gift in exchange for his assistance.”

The young priest blinked, clearly bewildered by Karim’s abrupt change in manner.

“But, you… you said—” Nehshi stammered, still uncertain.

“You may keep it, of course,” Karim added, closing the priest’s hand over the golden buckle and patting it.

“Master Montuhotep is aware of his visit,” the girl said. “I’m sure he’d want his guest treated well, don’t you think?”

“But the purification ritual—”

“His kingdom does not observe our practices,” Neff broke in. “So the master has allowed him to bypass the cleansing.”

Nehshi glanced back and forth between Karim and the girl for before relaxing his shoulders and slipping the bauble into the pocket of his tunic.

“Apologies for my ignorance,” he said, dipping his head in a stiff bow. “I hope you enjoy your visit to the House of Amun.”

Karim touched a knuckle to his nose. “I’m sure I will.”

Once the young priest had hurried away, the girl tilted her bald head at Karim and said, “Come with me.”

Karim followed her down the left-hand passage, feeling as bewildered as Nehshi had looked. Had this enterprising girl gotten a glimpse of the contents of his pack and seen it as an opportunity to get her hands on some valuables? He acknowledged a group of scribes as they passed, chattering among themselves, then tried to address the girl once they were out of earshot.

“Hey, kid. What’s the deal, hey? If it’s jewelry you want, I’ve got rings, bracelets—”

“Why do you want to see the temple records?” she broke in, her voice low. She kept walking, her gaze forward.

Karim hesitated.

“Tell me the truth or I’ll scream,” the girl added. “They’ll find out you’re not supposed to be here, and you’ll get thrown out.”

I’d be lucky to be thrown out and not killed , Karim thought, but decided not to say so. Still, he was impressed—the girl only looked slightly older than his little sisters, but she was clearly quite the shrewd customer.

“I need to find out about someone. An ancient Khetaran king named Setnakht. His name is on an ancient artifact I found in the Red Lands, but a priest I met told me there was no record of a pharaoh by that name. He said that my only chance of learning anything about him was in the papyri stored at this temple, in the House of Life. So I came to see what I could find. That’s it, all right? I don’t mean anyone any harm. And I’m happy to offer you a gift in exchange for your assistance.”

“I don’t want any gifts.”

Karim was at a loss. He stopped walking. “If you didn’t want jewelry, then why did you help me? What do you want?”

The girl stopped and quickly scanned the corridor to ensure they were alone. Then she turned and faced him. Her expression was defiant, but he could see the fear in it too.

“The first day I got here, someone helped me too,” she said. “Besides, I know who you are. And I want your help.”

“What?” He studied her face, but he was certain he’d never seen her before. The girl’s eyes were strange, too old for her young face. How could she know who I am?

He found himself unable to tear his gaze from her stare. Her eyes were deep dark wells that had no bottom, and they pulled at him like the invisible force that led him to secret places. He felt dizzy and strange.

Who is this Nefermaat?

An image flashed in his mind. A painting in a forgotten temple of a child being crowned with a feather by a cat-headed god.

“The oracle…” Karim murmured.

Nefermaat blinked, and the spell broke.

Karim stumbled back from her and shook the strange feeling away.

The girl tilted her head, looking quite catlike herself. “What oracle?”

It took Karim a few seconds to recover from his reverie. Was it possible that fate had brought them together, as Pasenhor had hoped it would? For what purpose? If he was going to find out, he had to tell her the truth—both to convince her to help him and because he had the feeling he was supposed to.

I can’t believe I have to put my trust in yet another Khetaran , he thought miserably.

“The Oracle of the Lamb,” Karim finally replied.

The girl paled. “The lamb?”

Karim nodded. “Painted in a Temple of Khnum, south of here. That same priest I mentioned earlier was its caretaker. He told me a little about it, something about water turning to blood and broken crowns…” He left out the part about the secret rising from beneath the earth. “The thing is, the painting showed a man who looked a lot like me, and a girl exactly like you. But I don’t know how that’s possible. The priest said it’s more than a thousand years old.”

With every word he said, the girl’s fear sharpened. “This priest, did he happen to come to the palace many years ago, to tell the king of this oracle?”

Karim blinked. “Yes, he did, actually. But your king threw him out and told him not to return. And now… the priest is gone.” He didn’t elaborate on the manner of Pasenhor’s death.

Nefermaat shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “Why me?”

A priest carrying a tray full of jars and linen passed by and glanced at them curiously. The two of them quieted, not wanting to be overheard.

When the priest had passed, Karim leaned forward. “I recognized you from the painting, but you’ve never seen it. Yet clearly you know something about all this. You said you know who I am. How?”

The girl fidgeted uncomfortably. “That wasn’t exactly true,” she admitted. “I don’t know your name, or where you come from, or anything about you, really. I saw you in a vision.”

“A vision? ”

The girl quickly told him about her recurring dream. The similarity to the Oracle of the Lamb was too great for Karim to dismiss. Then she told him how she’d been brought to the temple to train to be a priestess.

“The vision I experienced here at the temple showed me four people, each of them somehow connected to the lamb. I was one of them, and you were too, just like you saw in the painting. The others and me were alone, but for some reason, you—” Here her brow furrowed in confusion. “You had two shadows.”

Now it was Karim’s turn to be afraid.

“Do you have any idea what that might mean?” Nefermaat asked.

Karim looked away. “No idea,” he lied.

The little priestess seemed trustworthy, but he wasn’t ready to tell her about the monster. If he did that, he’d have to tell her about the Jackals, the tomb robbing, maybe even Djet and Pasenhor’s deaths. Would she still be willing to help him, knowing so much of what was happening was his fault?

Better to keep that to myself for now.

“Out of curiosity,” Karim said, “The other two people from your vision—was one of them the princess?”

Neff looked even more amazed. “One wore a crown. I assumed that meant it was one of the royal triplets. I didn’t know it was Sitamun.” She paused. “The last one carried a scepter.”

“What kind of scepter?” Karim asked. He racked his mind to remember what Pasenhor had called the weapon he’d seen in the painting. “Was it a… sack-ham scepter? Or something like that?”

Neff nodded vigorously. “Yes! A sekhem scepter! Exactly!”

Karim thought of the girl Raetawy and scoffed. “I think… I think I may have met her. Though the odds of such a meeting are too incredible to imagine.”

“Where?”

“South of here in Sakesh, on a farm by the side of the river,” Karim replied.

“‘Take heed, Sakesh, Great House of Ra…’” the girl murmured to herself. “What did she look like?”

“A tall, strapping young woman. She offered me fish and some other supplies, and in exchange I gave her two pieces from my collection. A gold ring, and a small lion amulet.”

“A lion… like Sekhmet,” Neff mused.

“Exactly so.”

“Maybe the meeting wasn’t a coincidence at all.”

Once again, Karim was reminded of the river’s current, inexorably pulling him to some unknown destination.

“Well, sena,” he said, “I’ve answered your questions. It’s time for you to hold up your end of the bargain. I need to find out whatever I can about Setnakht. The old priest seemed to think he was the key to everything.”

The girl nodded. “Fine. But we’ll have to hurry. Most of the priests are taking their midday meal, so they’ll only be out of the way for the next hour or so.” She started to walk, then stopped again. “The only problem is, I’m not good enough at reading the sacred word to find what you’re looking for so quickly. It would take me all day.”

Karim ran a hand over his black stubble. Time was slipping away. “Isn’t there anyone who can help us? Someone who’d be willing to bend the rules a little?”

For the first time, the girl smiled. “There is one person we could try.”

***