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26

Rae

That night, in the Garden of the Dead, plans grew.

Rae and Omari met Big Ears at the entrance and provided the Horizon code phrase, though he made it clear they needn’t do so.

“Oh, I know you,” the gruff man said, punching Omari in the shoulder. “If it weren’t for the two of you, I’d be neck-deep in natron, with my guts in a jar.”

“Good to see you up and about,” Omari said.

“And so quickly,” Rae added. Considering he’d had a knife in his belly only a day before, he seemed surprisingly hale. “You hardly look any worse for wear.”

The man waggled his voluminous eyebrows. “Well, can’t look much worse than I already do, can I? Just don’t make me laugh, or run, or get up from a chair.” He laughed, despite himself, then winced.

Rae chuckled. “You know, I’m ashamed to say it, but I don’t actually know your name.” She felt bad thinking of him as “Big Ears” all that time.

“Eh, that’s all right. In our business, sometimes it’s safer not to know. A man’s name is not to be shared lightly. Mine is Menkaura, but you can call me Menk.”

Rae followed him into the grand necropolis with a smile, feeling as if she’d just been given a gift.

The Hesep-Mut was as uncanny as it had been every other time she’d visited, with its high walls and its still, stale air. Asim and some other Horizon members stood leaning against the broken stone altar at its center. It was a smaller group than it had been at their other meetings.

Asim turned to see them, relief washing over his face. “Good, you’re here. We were starting to discuss next steps.”

“Where is everybody?” Rae looked for the shepherd and the grumpy brewer, but neither were in attendance. “I didn’t think we were late.”

“You’re not,” Asim said. “It’s possible Mamet Mut didn’t get the message to everyone in time. Or they decided to lie low until things calm down a bit.” He crossed his arms and sighed. “The raid certainly thrust a stick into the pharaoh’s beehive, so I suppose you can’t blame a man for not wishing to be stung.”

“I can,” Omari complained. “This is our chance to break High Khetara’s hold on us before they can regroup and come back stronger. Any man who deserts us now to protect his own hide is a coward, plain and simple.”

Asim’s nostrils flared. “You’re a very young man to speak with such authority, Omari. I’d advise you to take care with your words. There is nothing plain or simple about any of this.”

Omari seemed surprised by this reaction, and cast his eyes to the ground. “I’m sorry, Asim. I don’t want this crucial moment to be wasted.”

Asim gave Omari’s shoulder a hearty pat. “The heat of your passion is admirable, Omari. Just remember to tend that fire, lest it burn too freely.” He turned back to the others. “Let us not dwell on those who haven’t ventured out tonight but celebrate those of us who have.”

The men nodded in agreement.

“We have much to do,” Asim went on. “News of our victory has spread across Sakesh, but there are those who have yet to hear of our cause. We must ensure every man knows of the coming revolution and our plans for the future—and sees the wisdom of joining us in the fight. We cannot hope to repel the High Khetarans as a fringe group. We must do it as one people.”

There was some discussion then, with a variety of questions posed and ideas shared. How could they best canvass the city without the risk of exposure? How should they divide the arms they’d amassed from the raid? And how would they prepare for the Medjay’s return from the north with their reinforcements? Rae listened closely, mustering the courage to make good on her promise to Tam.

“I think we should bring the weavers into these meetings,” she said. “I know for a fact that some of those women want to be involved, and not simply in carrying messages. They are capable of more.”

The other rebels were skeptical.

“I doubt the men of this city would appreciate us placing their mothers and daughters in danger,” one said. “The weavers have stout hearts, but what greater use could they possibly be to us?”

Rae’s anger flared. “Am I also so useless? Have I done so little to further our cause?”

“You’re not like other women, Raetawy. I’d have thought that was obvious,” another man said.

Rae was about to educate him on the immeasurable depths of his stupidity when Asim raised his hands in a calming gesture. “Please. Let us not bicker among ourselves. You both have valid points—perhaps we can speak to the weavers and ask how they’d propose to help. It’s possible they can do more without us having to place them in harm’s way. Does that suffice?”

Rae and the man grumbled their assent.

“Perhaps I’m not the only one in need of fire tending,” Omari whispered in her ear.

“Shut up, oaf,” Rae said and elbowed him.

“Clearly, we have plenty of ideas, so let’s decide who can manage each of these tasks,” Asim said. “Rae, let’s start with you.”

Kroo! Kroo!

The group fell silent.

Menk’s signal could mean only one thing. Something was wrong.

Without a word, Asim and the others extinguished their torches in the sand and stood quietly in the ensuing darkness. A tingle of fear crept along the back of Rae’s neck as she held her breath, listening for any sound. The wind whistled through the gaps in the vast stone ruin, and somewhere beyond, a fox shrieked among the dunes. Other than that, there was nothing.

After a long moment, Omari bent his head toward her and whispered, “You stay here. I’ll go check on—”

Before he could finish the sentence, a whizzing sound came from above and an arrow buried itself in Omari’s shoulder. He staggered back from the force of it, his hand coming up to grip the shaft.

Rae stared at him, open-mouthed.

“Oh,” he said and collapsed.

In the next instant, a dozen more arrows rained down from above, humming through the air like a deadly swarm.

The silence shattered.

“Take cover!” Asim shouted, but not before another man was struck.

The rebel cried out in pain, an arrow in his back, and fell to the ground.

Panic surged in Rae’s chest. It’s an ambush!

Amid the confusion, she looked up and saw four archers perched on the crumbling walls of the necropolis, their forms silhouetted against the night sky. As they reloaded their bows, Rae dropped into a crouch and began dragging Omari by the armpits toward the remains of a low stone wall. An arrow sliced past her arm, missing her by a handsbreadth.

Across the way, another rebel fell. Then another.

Faster, go faster , Rae thought, her breath ragged as she did her best to ignore the searing pain in her back. The effort of carrying Omari’s heavy body was stretching her wounds to their breaking point, and fear had sapped the strength from her limbs.

She tried not to look back, tried not to wonder which of the men she’d just been speaking to was bleeding to death, or to think of his family waking in the morning to find him gone.

Not now.

She kept moving. Even when another man went down, and when an arrow sunk into her left hip. Only when she and Omari were concealed behind the low wall did she allow herself to collapse next to him, dizzy with pain. Though the arrow had only pierced the fleshiest part of her flank, it bled freely.

Reaching out, she lay a trembling hand on her best friend’s chest, relieved to find a steady thrum beneath her fingers.

Thanks be to Ra.

Then a new voice called out—a strangely familiar voice, though she couldn’t place it. “Hold your fire! We’re going in. I want the leader alive.”

Rae scooted herself against the wall and peered around it, squinting into the murk. Five guards filed in, two carrying torches, the others armed with khopesh. Rae recognized them immediately—the nomarch’s personal guard. The one who had spoken was the same man who’d so cruelly twisted her arm behind her back when she’d gone to the shepherd’s aid.

The nomarch’s men , Rae thought, heat flooding her cheeks. This is his doing.

The remaining rebels, wild-eyed with panic, brandished their daggers as the guards advanced upon them.

Rae cursed through gritted teeth. With the arrow still lodged in her backside, she unsheathed her dagger and struggled to her feet, ready to enter the fray. But a strong grip pulled her back behind the wall.

“Get down!” Asim commanded. “Get down and be still!”

“No!” Rae said, resisting. “We can’t hide here and watch them die.”

“ We aren’t going to,” Asim replied. “I won’t be responsible for taking you away from your father! Not if I can help it!”

“That’s not your decision to make!”

Asim’s face was desperate as the cries of dying rebels filled the air. “Please, Raetawy, please give me this. Help me lighten my heart before it’s too late.”

Rae sagged back to the ground, careful not to jostle the arrow shaft as she did. She wanted so badly to fight, to loose a battle cry and wet her knife with the blood of those guards— but she could not refuse Asim.

“As you wish, Captain,” she said.

Asim nodded and rose to his feet, moonlight catching his shaggy, rough-hewn face. Despite his tattered robes, she’d never seen a man look so noble. “Not a sound, no matter what happens. Understand?”

Rae nodded reluctantly.

“Good.” Keeping to the shadows, Asim darted toward the guards who were converging on the last two rebels. One had already been shot in the leg, and the other stood with his fists held defensively before him, having just been disarmed.

The guards were about to strike when Asim charged, snatching up a fallen asa stick from the ground and slashing it through the air, taking out one of the guards with a savage blow to the head.

While the guards were distracted, the two rebels took the opportunity to flee. Asim thrust the tip of the asa into another guard’s neck with a vicious crack. The man made a strangled, gurgling noise, but before he could do more than grasp his throat, Asim brought the stick swinging straight across the guard’s temple, dropping him like a stone.

“What is wrong with you fools?” shouted the head guard. “Take him down!”

Rae watched it all, rapt. Asim turned to attack a third guard, but didn’t see another one circle behind him, blade in hand. Rae wanted to cry out a warning, but she kept her promise and stayed silent.

The blade slashed across Asim’s back with a spray of blood.

Asim grunted in pain, his back arching—but wasted only a moment before he whirled on his attacker with the asa. This time, though, the remaining guards were ready and fell upon him en masse, tearing the asa from his grasp and tossing it away.

“Tie his arms,” the head guard commanded, wiping the perspiration from his brow.

One of the guards produced a length of rope. “What about the two who got away?” he asked.

“The archers will pick them off before they can get far,” the head guard replied. He sniffed, watching as they pinned Asim’s arms behind his back and forced him to his knees. “So, you’re the leader of this rabble?”

Asim said nothing.

The head guard shrugged. “No matter. Your skills with the asa speak for themselves. It’s obvious the rest of them were farmers’ boys and old soldiers, far past their prime. You’re hardly more than a beggar yourself, but perhaps you were something, once.”

He placed the curve of his khopesh under Asim’s chin and lifted it, forcing the rebel leader to look at him. “If you think I wanted you alive to squeeze you for information, you’re wrong. You’ve conspired against the king. Your life is forfeit. I simply wanted to kill you myself.”

Omari stirred, grunting softly as he regained consciousness.

The head guard turned his head. “What was that?”

Her pulse racing, Rae shifted silently and put her lips to Omari’s ear. “Shh … ”

Asim spoke up again. “Amunmose isn’t worthy of Khetara’s throne,” he barked, loud enough to cover any sounds Omari might make. “Never has this kingdom seen a more feckless pharaoh. That is why we rise against him, not only for Sakesh, but for all—”

“King Amunmose is dead,” the head guard said.

Asim fell silent.

“We received word earlier this evening, along with new orders from Crown Prince Meryamun. I’ve heard he’s quite a different man from his father and models himself on the Great Uniter: King Sematawy himself. I’ve heard he wishes to return the kingdom to its former might—starting with bringing you Low Khetaran dogs to heel.”

When Asim spoke again, his voice was somber. “This new king changes nothing. Kill me if you wish, but my death won’t divert the people of Sakesh from their purpose. They have suffered for long enough. They will come together and take back this city, take back their dignity—”

It was at this point that Rae realized Asim was no longer talking to the guard. He was talking to her.

“—and come tomorrow, hear me, come tomorrow, the falcon will sail across the sky, and we shall meet him on the—!”

There was a sharp, wet sound, followed by a dull thud.

Then, silence.

Rae bit back a sob, her body quaking with grief.

“Pick that up and bring it with you,” the head guard said, nonchalant. “The nomarch will want to see evidence of our victory. Perhaps he’ll have it as a keepsake.”

The other guards gave their assent, then began the business of collecting fallen weapons and comrades. It seemed an age before they made their way out of the Garden.

Rae held her breath as they walked by her. With the arrow protruding from her body and her robes soaked in blood, both she and Omari made convincing corpses. It was only after they’d safely passed that she opened her eyes to peer after them. Her blood turned to ice.

One of the guards held Asim’s head by its hair, no differently than one would carry a dead goose killed in the marshes. It swung pendulously from the guard’s grip, the mouth gaping open as if those final aspirational words were still caught on the tip of Asim’s tongue.

Rae squeezed her eyes shut, flooding her cheeks with hot, angry tears.

Soon, the guards were gone. Rae dared not move a muscle until the sounds of their travel had long since faded.

Lying awkwardly on her side, she gazed up at the shroud of imperishable stars. Each one, her father had taught her, was the soul of a pharaoh. She wondered how many of them had been moral men, and how many had been blood-soaked tyrants like Sematawy, or greedy like Amunmose. And she wondered bitterly why they, regardless of their actions, were given the opportunity to shine.

Sometime later, an unexpected voice broke the stillness.

“Ra be merciful. No. No. Asim… Asim !”

Rae struggled to rise and peered around the low wall to see a man kneeling beside Asim’s headless body, his back hunched in anguish.

“Menk?” Rae whispered in amazement.

Menk’s head shot up, alarm quickly changing to disbelief. “Raetawy? You’re alive!”

“Shot in the ass, but yes,” Rae replied with a grunt. “Omari too—please, come quickly, he needs help.”

Menk rushed over to her, shaking his head at their injuries. Omari was regaining consciousness, but he was fuzzy-eyed and unsteady.

“They killed them, Menk,” Rae said as he struggled to get Omari to his feet and took in the destruction around them. Her voice was high, verging on hysteria. “They killed them all.”

“I know. I tried to warn you, but by the time I saw them, it was too late.”

“You did everything you could.”

“No, I didn’t. I could have fought them! I could have died with them!” He cursed and dropped his head in his hands.

Rae, too, felt the burden of guilt heavy on her shoulders. “I would have died with them too,” she said softly. “But Asim wanted me to live.”

Is this what it was like for him? she wondered. To survive when so many others did not? Is this what made him the man he was?

Omari leaned against Menk for support and gazed blankly at the corpses. “What do we do now? We can’t leave them here like this.”

Rae pressed her lips together, considering the fallen rebels, their blood soaking into the sand. She wouldn’t have called any of them her friends, but they were good men. They’d given her a chance. They’d come that night on her suggestion and walked straight to their deaths.

“We have no choice,” she finally said. “We’re in no condition to carry them home, and after tonight, it will be too dangerous for any of their families to venture here to claim them. The nomarch’s men will surely be watching for that. But we’ll do what we can before we go.”

Though each step gave her pain, Rae paid her respects to each of the dead men, crossing their arms over their bodies and laying her father’s copper dagger on their chests before she prayed.

“Hear me, Ra. Maker of Hours, Lord of Days—hear me and cast your light upon this man. Burn away the fear in his heart, and watch over him as he travels West to the Field of Reeds…”

When they were done, they left the dead men resting in the dawn’s light. After a thousand years, new bones had been planted in the Garden of the Dead.

Rae shivered with cold as they made the long arduous journey back to Sakesh. But even as the sun bled over the horizon and kissed their filthy, tear-streaked faces, Rae never once felt its warmth.

Her heart was just too heavy.