Page 32

27

Neff

“Where are the Wabet?” Nehshi asked, exasperated.

Neff blinked up at the young priest, her face dripping with water from the basin. She was preparing for her morning chores when Nehshi appeared in her chambers, his face shiny with sweat.

“They all left early to continue preparations for the coronation,” she answered, drying her face with a clean cloth.

Nehshi moaned, a deep, lowing sound she’d heard him make so often that he might as well be a cow. “How am I supposed to perform the daily ritual without help? ‘Not now, Nehshi,’ they say, ‘I’m too busy with important matters to deal with your problems, Nehshi. Ask someone else, Nehshi.’ But if Amun is angered by the lateness of his offerings, who will be to blame? Nehshi!”

Neff sighed and laid the folded cloth across the edge of the basin. She still felt a little guilty for manipulating the priest the day Karim had shown up at the temple. “I’ll help you, all right?”

Nehshi harrumphed. “What do you know about administering the daily ritual? Have you assisted with it before?”

“No, but I know enough,” Neff replied. “Besides, do you have a better offer?”

Nehshi stared at her, then reached down to stroke the golden buckle he’d attached to his belt. “I suppose if Montuhotep trusts you to chaperone his foreign guests, I can trust you to assist with one morning’s ritual.”

Neff smirked and followed him out of her chambers and through the Great Temple. She was pleased that Nehshi hadn’t followed up on her lie about the man from the Red Lands being a guest of Montuhotep—as she’d guessed, the priest was too worried about himself to ask questions. Her reputation was safe.

Still, she hadn’t stopped thinking about Karim since his departure. She’d never met a Red Lands tribesman before, no less had a lengthy conversation with one, and although she had the feeling he wasn’t being altogether honest with her, she’d liked him all the same. He’d spoken to her with respect and had a charming manner that was difficult to resist. And of course, he’d put a name to the vision that launched her on this journey: the Oracle of the Lamb. But with those answers came more questions. How were the four people—her, Karim, Princess Sitamun, and a mysterious farm girl from Low Khetara—connected? What were their roles in the days to come? And what exactly was coming?

Beware, for soon the Great River of Khetara will turn to blood.

Ever since Kenna uncovered the king’s murder, she’d been convinced that Meryamun’s ascension to the throne must be part of it. Not only had she seen the evidence in the embalming room when he made the discovery, but Kenna suggested that Sitamun had known that her father had been poisoned, and that her earlier visit to the temple had been a cry for help.

So, two of the four figures in the oracle were already involved in the conspiracy.

Lies will grow fruitful as wheat in the fields.

But Neff knew there was more at stake.

Karim had said that Setnakht, his missing pharaoh, was the key to unlocking the secrets of the oracle. Why else would fate have brought Karim to her? The letter they’d found in the House of Life made it clear that people had despised the heretical king—but that was a thousand years ago. Setnakht was long dead. What could he possibly have to do with what was unfolding in Khetara now? She recalled another line from her vision, and wondered at its significance.

A secret shall rise from beneath the earth.

Neff shivered.

Despite not entirely understanding how all the pieces fit together, Neff could sense them falling into place and disaster rushing toward them on swift waters. But what could she do to alter such a course? She’d prayed to Bast for answers, but so far, the goddess had been silent.

She’d wanted to talk to Kenna about it, to tell him all that she knew, but after that morning in the embalming room, Kenna had locked himself in his chambers and refused visitors, including her. So she’d been forced to spend far too much time alone with her thoughts, haunted by ill portents she was powerless to avoid.

She and Nehshi walked through the courtyard. Some other Wab priests went about their business around them, quietly completing the everyday tasks of the temple. The sky was unusually overcast, turning everything a muted gray.

At the far end of the courtyard, they climbed a few steps and entered a large columned hall. This was followed by more steps, then another, smaller hall, just like the first. Then came more steps into the Hall of Offering, a chamber only big enough to fit half a dozen people. She’d been told that the temples were designed this way, with priests ascending steps into smaller and smaller chambers, so that as they approached the holy of holies, they’d feel as if they were rising into the heavens for a private audience with the divine.

Finally, they reached the door to the sanctuary. It was sealed with a wax-encrusted cord wrapped around the doorknobs.

“I’ll break the seal and bring the offerings,” Nehshi said, gesturing toward the materials laid out neatly on a table next to the door. “You carry the incense.”

Neff suddenly felt nervous. It’s a common ritual , she told herself, done three times a day. Nothing to worry about. Still, her hand shook as she set the resin inside the bronze censer aflame. Coils of fragrant smoke began to spill lazily from the censer’s head, quickly filling the small space. Through the haze, Neff watched the priest unwind the cord and open the door. She ascended the three steps first, swinging the incense before her, and found herself in the presence of Amun.

Being that he was the patron god of Thonis, the kingdom’s capital city, Amun’s statue was immense. Set on a tall pedestal, it was the height of three men and carved from white limestone. Not a drop of paint, nor any other stone or metal interrupted its purity save his eyes, which boasted pupils of the finest lapis, as blue as a summer sky. It made sense that he was unadorned. He was, after all, the Invisible One, God of the Unseen. He needed no embellishment. He was nothing and everything, nowhere and everywhere. In that space between ignorance and knowledge, Amun built a house called mystery and invited all to pass through its doors.

Neff lifted her eyes to his and felt a kinship there. Back at the market in Bubas, she’d often complained when people ignored her attempts to draw them to their stall. “It’s like they don’t even see me,” she’d told her father.

He’d tutted and given her a knowing look. “Ah, but there’s power in being invisible,” he’d said. “Invisibility creates opportunities. To observe, to learn, to act. No one is listening to you? Fine. You go listen to them, to their idle conversations, to their secrets. Find out what people really think, Neff, and you can change the world from the shadows.”

She stared into the deep blue eyes, unable to look away. Amun created everything, even himself. And all while no one was watching.

As these thoughts drifted through her mind, she felt the air in the sanctuary shift. The sensation reminded her of that moment in Bubas when Bast had revealed herself, but even more powerful. Bast’s spirit had grabbed hold of her like a cat with a mouse, whereas Amun’s energy insinuated itself into her like smoke, seeping in through her mouth and nostrils with each breath until it filled her completely.

She was dimly aware of Nehshi kneeling before the statue, kissing the ground and singing the morning hymns, his arms raised in worship. The priest was right beside her, yet he felt very far away. It was as if her ba—her bird spirit—had taken flight and hovered before the face of Amun, high above. It was a tranquil face, betraying nothing of the heavy weight of the tall double-plumed feather crown upon his brow.

Voices filled her mind. They were her father’s voice, and Kenna’s, and the voice in her mind that asked questions at night when she could not sleep. They were all and none of them at once.

You must trust that which you cannot see , the voices said. Do not fight the currents that carry you toward your fate, lest you arrive late or not at all. Use the gifts you have been given and cause them to multiply within you, for they are borne of we who have crafted you from the earth for this purpose.

Amun’s eyes grew larger with each word, obscuring everything else in Neff’s vision until her world was a smoky blue cloud, pregnant with possibility.

You may feel alone on this journey , but like the streams that flow to the great river, you are one of many, and many are but one.

Her heart swelled.

And then she was sinking—back to herself, back to Nehshi’s diligent offerings of water and oil and prayer.

Much is hidden.

The voices faded to a whisper.

But much will be revealed.

Neff gasped, the arrival back in her physical body abrupt and strange. She felt heavy, her arm holding the censer blazing with the pain of holding it aloft for so long.

Nehshi looked up, having finished wrapping Amun’s feet in special white cloths. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you crying?”

Neff touched her face, surprised to see her fingers come away wet with tears. She shook her head. “I… I don’t know.”

He was about to press further when a loud, ululating cry echoed from outside the sanctuary, calling everyone in the vicinity to attention.

“What’s that?” Neff asked.

Nehshi arranged the empty offering plates and bottles back on the tray and rose to his feet. “The watchman. Someone important must be coming. We should go and see if we’re needed.”

With one last glance up at the patron god, Neff followed Nehshi outside and waited while he resealed the door. Together, they hurried through the ever-larger halls and out into the main courtyard. The few priests who were not tending to the king’s tomb or preparing for the coronation were already there, peering with interest through the front gate. Neff saw Kenna among them and rushed to his side. He stood still, his expression as inscrutable as Amun’s.

“Who is it?” she asked, following his gaze.

Kenna’s lip curled. “My brother.”

Meryamun came through the gate on a finely carved palanquin carried by four litter bearers. He was dressed in the same translucent linen blouse and schenti that Neff had seen him wear before—but his adornments had grown more opulent. Golden cuffs ringed his wrists and ankles, and a magnificent pectoral necklace lay upon his chest, depicting two kneeling goddesses praising the prince’s name. His eyes were lined with kohl, and his luxuriant black hair was dotted with golden beads.

The litter bearers sank to their knees. As soon as the palanquin was set down, Mery rose from his throne and stepped toward them.

“Bakenamun,” he said with obvious distaste. “It’s good to see you again so soon. And you, young Nefermaat. How serendipitous that you both should be here to meet me.”

Kenna stepped in front of Neff, blocking her with one arm. “You will not touch her,” he said to Mery, hardly loud enough for her to catch the words. If the litter bearers heard anything, they didn’t let it show. “If you’ve come to kill me, then fine. But leave the girl alone.”

Neff stiffened in horror. Kill him?

Mery smiled and patted Kenna on the shoulder. “Don’t be so dramatic, brother. I haven’t come to kill you. What a terrible waste of energy, given that you barely live at all. What gave you that idea?”

Kenna’s jaw tensed. “You slaughtered Father’s court last night.”

Neff felt the blood drain from her face.

“ Tsk. Slaughter is such a harsh word,” Mery said blithely. “I prefer sacrifice . Those honorable men and women sacrificed themselves to spend eternity serving their king. You’re a man of faith—you of all people should know the doctrine.”

“And you of all people should know we stopped following that doctrine a thousand years ago. It’s barbaric.”

“Only those with weak hearts and feeble minds mistake strength for barbarism,” Mery shot back. “Mark my words, if the pharaohs of old could see the kingdom today, they’d opt to wipe it from the face of the earth rather than allow it to fall further into impotence.” He leaned in closer. “The blood of a few is a small price to pay to restore the glory of the kingdom.”

“A small price?” Kenna spat. “You’ve paid with your immortal soul.”

Mery shook his head. “Take a look at yourself, Kenna, then look at me.”

Neff glanced between them. Next to Mery—strong, lithe, golden—Kenna looked like a pale specter.

“My heart is light. How about yours?” Mery taunted.

Kenna’s face twisted with anger. “How can you say that, after you… you…”

“After I what, Brother?” Mery’s eyes flashed.

Neff willed Kenna to speak. Accuse him! Say it now, so that everyone will know he murdered the king!

Kenna’s gaze dropped. “Forget it.”

Mery shrugged. “As ever, Brother, you have the tenacity of a boiled onion. But! As much as I enjoy it, I didn’t come here to argue with you. I’ve come to collect the little priestess.”

Both their faces turned to Neff. Her mind whirled.

He’s come for me?

“What? No,” Kenna seemed stunned by the abrupt shift in conversation. “You can’t just take her.”

“I can, actually,” Mery said. “Don’t worry, she will be quite safe.”

“But she belongs here!” Kenna exclaimed.

“Not anymore. The girl is wasted at the temple, poring over scrolls in caves. She belongs in the light, with me.”

“But what will Montuhotep say? She is his ward!”

“Montuhotep will say nothing, as it is no longer his concern. I’ve already spoken to him.” Mery turned to face her. “You have proven precious to me, Nefermaat. Your prophecy saved my life out on the marshes.”

Neff was surprised. She remembered her vision of the crocodile god. “Your dream. About Sobek.”

The prince nodded. “If I hadn’t knelt before his image on that hunt, I wouldn’t be standing here now. You’re not like these other pretenders, I know that now. The voice of the divine is in your ear. That’s why you belong by my side.”

He paused, considering. “Still, my brother has a point. I cannot force you to share your gifts. I want a companion—not a slave. So it’s your choice, Nefermaat. Stay here with my brother or join me at the palace. If you join me, you will want for nothing. I will robe you in riches befitting a child of the gods. I give you my word.”

She glanced from one brother to the other, uncertain.

“Neff, what is there to think about?” Kenna whispered after a long silent moment had passed. “He’s giving you a choice—tell him you want to stay here!”

She closed her eyes.

Do not fight the currents that carry you toward your fate .

Neff wanted to stay. She was actually starting to feel comfortable with her life as a priestess. The idea of being whisked away to yet another place—the palace, no less!—filled her with fear. But at the same time, she knew she couldn’t ignore the prince’s proposal. He wasn’t merely offering her a seat by his side, he was offering her his trust.

Ever since that day on the streets of Bubas, she’d tried to understand her role in the goddess’s plan. She was young, invisible. Was it possible that those attributes were strengths, rather than weaknesses? Could it be that it was those very qualities, along with her gift of prophecy, that earned her the prince’s faith? For who would suspect a simple merchant girl of manipulation or political subterfuge?

If I choose Meryamun, my word could bend the will of a king.

It would be dangerous. She’d have to observe, learn, and act against him while still maintaining his trust. If he ever found out she was undermining him…

She swallowed.

Did she have the courage to play such a dangerous game?

“You’re going to make us proud,” her father had said the last time she saw him. “They’ll come to see me from all over Bubas, from all over Khetara, to hear your story.”

What story do you want him to tell? she asked herself.

Neff took a deep breath, and when she released it, she knew the decision had been made.

She stepped toward the crown prince. “I will return to the palace with you, Prince Meryamun.”

Kenna went rigid.

Mery smiled. “A wise choice.”

Neff glanced at her adopted brother’s emotionless face. Even though he didn’t show it, she knew how deep she’d cut him. She desperately wanted to tell him about her plans, but she knew she couldn’t. Not now. Not yet.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Prince Kenna,” Neff said, bowing her head so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “But my place must be with the new king.”

As if he were used to being the lesser choice, he replied flatly, “As you wish.”

Mery clapped his hands to punctuate the end of the conversation.

“Well! Come along, little seer, we have a busy day ahead of us. You’ll be fitted for new garments straightaway. I’ll not have you walking around in those rags.” He directed her to sit on the edge of the palanquin at his feet, and Neff obeyed.

“Oh!” Mery said to Kenna before ascending the palanquin. “Before I go—have you seen our dear sister today, by any chance?”

Kenna frowned. “Sitamun? No… She almost never visits here. You know that. She’s not at the palace?”

A thin line appeared at the center of Mery’s brow. “No,” he said mildly. “The princess seems to be missing.” Then the line vanished, burned away by the blaze of his smile.

“Not to worry. You know Sita. Without her attendants and her fineries and her wine, our dear sister is quite helpless. She’ll turn up. In fact, she may be waiting for us upon our return. Shall we go see, Nefermaat?”

Neff nodded, folding her hands demurely in her lap.

Once the prince was resettled into his throne, the litter bearers rose to their feet, lifting them into the air. Neff’s feet dangled over the ground, giving her the same weightless sensation she’d felt in the sanctuary, carried aloft by something bigger and grander than herself.

“Goodbye, Brother,” Mery said. “I’ll see you at the coronation.”

As the litter bearers walked to the temple gates, Neff allowed herself one last look back at Kenna. The sight of him nearly broke her heart.

Fighting back tears, she turned to face the path ahead, echoing Mery’s words in her mind.

Goodbye, Brother .