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Karim

If sound were food and color drink, Karim could have remained forever filled at the Thonis marketplace. Compared to the traveling traders of the Red Lands and the bazaars of Khetara’s smaller towns, the market was an experience unto itself. He spent the rest of the day exploring it, trading bits and bobs from the tomb for fresh supplies, and then returning to feed Behkai. The dog had taken his job of guarding the skiff quite seriously, and seemed to enjoy many industrious hours spent by the river, dozing and catching fish. It was a welcome diversion for them both, filling Karim’s senses with so many sights and smells that he had hardly any room left for dark thoughts.

Over and over, his hand drifted to the item in his tunic, where he kept his latest plunder.

He hadn’t enjoyed stealing from the temple. The little priestess had stuck her neck out for him, and removing a scroll from their House of Life was no way to repay her kindness. But when he’d caught a glimpse of what it was, Karim knew he had to have it.

Once a thief, always a thief—and that scroll was a tomb robber’s dream come true.

It was a rough drawing, depicting mountains, the familiar long blue finger of the river, and multiple locations marked with red stars. The locations were labeled with indecipherable Khetaran symbols, but Karim didn’t need to be able to read them to know it was a map. A very old one.

And where there were ancient places—there was probably treasure too.

He recognized one particular valley on the map that was marked with a star. He’d been there. It was the location of Setnakht’s tomb, where Karim had found untold treasures . Who knew what might be hidden in those other secret places?

He felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of undiscovered tombs, but it was quickly followed by shame. When he’d discovered it inside the hidden compartment, he’d convinced himself that the map was essential to his search for more information about Setnakht and the oracle, which was why he needed to take it. But was that really true? Or was he more interested in returning to his old ways to seek out buried treasure?

Well, why shouldn’t I? Karim thought. Why shouldn’t I fund this journey with Khetaran spoils? I may have opened the door to that tomb, but the curse hidden inside was of their making, not mine. Leave it to the Khetarans to force a tribesman from the Red Lands to clean up their mess!

That night, as he and Behkai bedded down on the riverbank outside the city, he made his decision. He’d spend one more day trading and gathering supplies, and then start trying to decipher the different locations on the map. He needed to figure out which one could mark Setnakht’s capital city. Maybe he could copy the symbols from the scroll and find someone who could translate them for him. He was loath to actually show anyone the map itself, for fear that they couldn’t be trusted. So that was the plan: he’d find the lost city, and perhaps make himself richer along the way.

That night, the little priestess’s haunting eyes appeared to him as he tried to fall asleep, her final, oddly ominous words echoing in his mind. I have a feeling we’ll meet again, Karim of the Red Lands.

I hope not, sena , he thought. For your sake, and mine.

***

The next afternoon, Karim returned to the market to seek out a midday meal. Located along a vast winding corridor that cut through the heart of the city, the marketplace consisted of hundreds of merchants—some displaying wares outside their workshops under vibrant crimson and gold canopies, others huddled inside makeshift tents, and yet more with their goods arrayed on blankets spread along the sides of the street. The air was filled with shouts advertising oils from the north, incense from the south, and everything in between. Once you added in the squawks of ducks and geese for sale, and the braying of goats being led home to new owners, it was quite a racket. All along the corridor, customers packed close together, and as Karim allowed himself to be carried along with them, he caught snippets of their conversations.

“She says demons took King Amunmose because he’d done nothing to settle the unrest in Sakesh…”

“You traded how many geese for that necklace?”

“Something happened at the palace last night, but no one knows exactly what…”

“I heard it’s going to be the biggest coronation in a hundred years…”

“We could use a new wine jar, you know. Look at this one…”

“Prince Meryamun must soon take a queen. I wonder who it’s going to be?”

Karim’s ears perked up. Mention of the prince brought to mind the image of the three royal children he’d seen in the oracle.

Bakenamun was the man I met, and his brother is expected to take the throne. But it was the sister, Sitamun, who was central in the painting. And it was Sitamun who appeared in the little priestess’s vision.

What’s the princess’s role in all this? he wondered.

He dropped out of the flow of the crowd and made his way to a food stall he’d visited the day before. A hunched elderly woman was busy turning skewers of meat over a small fire, while stirring a pot that sat bubbling over the coals. The scents in the air made his mouth water.

The woman looked up as Karim approached and grinned. “Well, hello again! Come back for more, have you?”

“How could I resist?”

“I’ve got duck, green onion, and stewed lentils today,” she said, nodding toward the fire.

“Delicious,” Karim said warmly, then added, “much like the young lady serving it.”

“Oh!” the old woman squealed. “Such a rascal.” Despite the scolding, she served him a double portion of everything.

Karim accepted the hot food, wrapped in layers of fig leaf, and offered a pretty bauble in exchange. The woman took it gratefully, and Karim touched his knuckle to his nose in thanks. A little charm and flattery, he’d learned, went a long way with the female vendors. Although he wore the Khetaran tunic, some of the vendors still eyed him with distrust, so he’d learned quickly where to take his business.

He was about to head back to Behkai when he spied a fruit stand with baskets overflowing with a variety of sensuous-looking fruit. There were fragrant melons in different shapes and colors, and some other items he’d never seen before. Curious, he flipped the vendor a bit of gold and picked up some deep blue grapes and a round pink fruit with a hard little bloom on one end. He was weighing it in his hand, wondering how he was supposed to eat it, when his gaze was drawn to a young woman shopping at the next stall.

Upon first glance, there was nothing extraordinary about her. She wore unremarkable black robes, her hood pulled over her head to block out the afternoon sun. She looked no different than a hundred others in the bustling crowd, but there was something about her graceful bearing, the liquid way she moved, that caught his eye.

The woman inspected the loaves of bread arranged on the table in front of her, but when the vendor offered a trade, she shook her head and moved on to the fruit stall. Unlike everyone else in the crowd—aside from Karim himself—she seemed to take in everything around her with fresh eyes. Perhaps she, too, was a stranger to this land.

A shout came from somewhere nearby.

The woman startled, and her head snapped toward the sound. In that moment, Karim caught a glimpse of her face. The first feature he noticed was her prominent, aquiline nose. On another woman it might have looked severe, but on her it was regal, elegant. Her full lips were pursed, and her eyes were wide with alarm beneath dark, arched brows.

Who is she? And why is she so scared? Karim wondered.

There was something contradictory about this woman and her plain, rough robes. She was too refined, her copper skin too unblemished and her cheeks too full, to be a peasant. And yet, she was dressed like one.

Just then, a group of three men who were dressed differently from everyone else appeared at the far end of the marketplace. Their white schentis weren’t rough or rumpled, but crisply pleated and belted with fine leather. Around their necks were shining gold collars shaped like falcons with wings outstretched.

Some kind of military men, or guards , Karim guessed.

People scattered to give them a wide berth, and Karim watched as they made their way down the street, stopping to interrogate the merchants and inspect every young woman who passed by.

A tingle crept up the back of Karim’s neck as he glanced at the woman in black. She was watchful, rigid—like a hunted animal on the edge of flight.

If she runs, she’ll only attract their attention .

He had no idea who she was or why she appeared frightened of the approaching guards, but he felt compelled to help her. Maybe it was because she was beautiful, but he preferred to think that he was repaying Nefermaat’s good deed, as she claimed to have done for him. The little priestess had risked her safety to come to his rescue at the temple, it seemed only right to do the same for this stranger.

“Greetings, sena,” he said, moving to the woman’s side. “You look like you could use a hot meal. Why don’t you come and share mine?”

The woman turned to him with alarm and pulled the hood closer to her face. “No, thank you,” she said, and started to move away.

The guards were getting close.

“Please,” Karim said, reaching for her arm. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Let me go!” Her tone was that of someone accustomed to being obeyed. She yanked her arm from his grasp and pinned him with an imperious glare. “I don’t need your help.”

Karim saw one of the guards turn toward them with a frown.

“Sena,” Karim warned her, his apprehension growing. “I really think you should come with me.” He reached for her arm again.

“Leave me alone, you pig!” she cried, trying to pry him off.

“Pig?” Karim huffed, offended. She was stronger than he expected. “Will you stop struggling, woman!”

It was too late. The guards were headed their way, their hands reaching for the hilts of their khopesh.

Karim broke into a cold sweat. The woman saw them too and paled.

Do something!

They drew closer.

Anything!

With a murmured apology, Karim slapped the woman across the face.

She gasped, one hand going to her reddening cheek. She ducked her head from the blow. The hood dropped back over her face, shielding it from sight.

The guards stopped in their tracks, taken aback by this new development.

“What’s this about?” one asked sternly.

Karim cleared his throat and gave the three men a rueful look. “The wife… I tell her to buy bread; instead she trades all our geese for jewelry. What can you do?”

The suspicion on the guards’ faces turned to amusement.

“Keeping her in line, are you?” one asked.

“I certainly am,” Karim said, chuckling nervously. “She’s a wild animal in need of taming!”

Next to him, the woman made a quiet, infuriated noise—but kept her head bowed.

“Come along, old girl,” he said to her. “Time to go home.”

“Good luck with that!” said another guard.

This time, when Karim guided the woman by the arm, she came willingly.

Behind them, Karim heard one of the guards issue a command to his companions.

“You two double back and check every woman you see. I’ll finish searching this end of the market. The princess must be around here somewhere.”

Karim’s stomach dropped. The princess?

He shot the woman a sidelong glance. The image of Sitamun’s face in the Temple of Khnum appeared in his mind. Marked with a black cobra, holding a heart in her hands.

It had been merely a painting, but much like his own likeness, the image had looked very similar to the woman in black.

Karim cursed under his breath. It seemed that no matter where he went, the oracle followed. First Raetawy, then Nefermaat, and now this. Events seemed to be drawing them together—but for what purpose, he still had no idea. He felt like a pawn in someone else’s game, and wondered what move he should make next.

Did it even matter?

Had the gods of this accursed kingdom already decided his fate?

The two of them walked in silence until they reached the outer edges of the marketplace, where the crowd thinned. Karim pulled her out of the flow of people and under the shade of a palm, then released her arm.

He had just opened his mouth to speak, when she slapped him. Hard.

“Ow!” Karim cried, cupping a hand to his jaw.

“That’s for putting your filthy hands on me!” the woman snapped. In her haste, she’d allowed the hood to fall away from her face. She was radiant with fury. Rivulets of thick shining hair, as black as a raven’s wing, tumbled out from her robes.

“And that’s for slapping me, and for calling me ‘old girl.’ I am not an old girl and certainly not your old girl…” She seemed to run out of steam. “And, well… I suppose I should thank you.”

Karim raised his eyebrows. “I suppose you should.”

“I just… I thought you were making a move on me. How was I to know you were trying to help me get away from those guards? If you’d explained yourself—”

“I tried to.”

“No, you offered me a hot meal .” She raised an eyebrow, as if such an offer was obviously obscene.

Karim scoffed. Twice.

“And then you slapped me.”

“That’s a very reductive way of viewing the situation, sena,” Karim replied.

“Is it?”

They stared at each other, each sporting a reddened cheek.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Karim said.

“What? Slapping you? No.” The woman frowned. “Maybe.”

“Do you want to do it again?”

Her other cheek reddened to match the first. She crossed her arms. “No! Who are you, anyway? How did you know those guards were looking for me?”

Karim shrugged. “It was obvious they were searching for a young woman, and—let’s say, you don’t exactly fit in.” He cleared his throat. “Princess Sitamun.”

The princess inhaled sharply, fear and suspicion returning to her striking face.

“I hate to disappoint you,” she said in a low voice. “But I’m not carrying anything of value, only the clothes on my back. No riches to reward your… kindness.”

His heart quickened at the thought of her parting with those clothes, but he quickly shook away the image.

Don’t be stupid , he scolded himself. She’s a Khetaran princess. She’s probably arrogant, spoiled, used to having everyone at her beck and call. Although why such a woman would find herself on the run from the royal guard gave him pause.

“I need no riches,” he replied. “I ask only two simple favors—both of which I believe you can easily provide.”

The princess narrowed her eyes.

“It’s nothing to provoke another slap, I promise,” Karim added.

“Fine,” she said.

“Good,” Karim said with a nod. “One, perhaps you’d like to apologize for calling me a pig, hey? Considering my recent heroics?”

The princess pressed her lips into a thin line. She lifted her chin. “Very well. I am sorry. You’re not a pig. Does ‘dog’ work better for you?”

“It does,” Karim replied blithely. “Much more fitting, I would say.”

Sitamun suppressed a smile. “What’s the second request?”

Karim gestured toward the river. “Join me for that hot meal. Duck and lentils, nothing sinister, I promise you. We’ll have to share some with Behkai, I’m afraid, but it should be enough for all of us.”

“Behkai?”

“My dog.” The words came naturally, and Karim was surprised at the warmth that flooded his chest when he said them. The damned beast had grown on him.

Sitamun nodded. “So now that I know your dog’s name—what’s yours?”

Karim hesitated, always wary of sharing his name with strangers—especially Khetarans. But then again, if the oracle had brought them together, had he any choice but to trust her? Perhaps if he shared his food and his name, she might share something useful with him too.

“Karim,” he blurted, before he could reconsider.

“Karim,” Sitamun repeated, her lips forming the name as if she were tasting it.

“Now that we’re properly acquainted… what do you say? Will you come?”

“I suppose I am a little hungry,” she admitted.

Karim grinned. “Well then.” He gestured toward the riverbank. “Two dogs eagerly await your company.”

***

It annoyed him—though he couldn’t quite explain why—that Behkai took to Sitamun so readily. When he and the princess arrived at the skiff, the dog leaped to his feet. Karim expected him to start barking at the stranger, but instead, he trotted over to Sitamun like an enormous puppy and began drooling over her. Literally.

“Oh,” she crooned, taking his face in her hands and rubbing him, with no regard for the drool. “What a sweet boy. What a good boy.”

“Traitor,” Karim muttered to the dog as he passed.

Behkai ignored him—that is, until he smelled the food. Karim sat on a rock, and as soon as he began unwrapping it, the dog trotted over to investigate.

“Have a seat,” Karim told Sitamun, gesturing to a boulder opposite him.

She perched on the boulder with as much decorum as she could muster.

Decorum went by the wayside, however, once Karim handed her the food. The princess fell upon the duck and lentils with zeal, devouring everything she’d been given in minutes, and then doing the same with the second serving he offered. He watched with amusement as she sucked all the grease from her fingers, one by one. When she caught him looking, she dropped her hands to her lap and sat up very straight.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied primly. “Thank you.”

Karim stuck the last onion in his mouth, letting its burnt greens hang out the side, and munched on it while he tossed the last of the meat to Behkai.

“There’s fruit too,” he said, pulling out the grapes and the round pink thing. “Not sure what this is, but I thought I’d give it a try.” He was about to take a bite out of it, but the princess snatched it out of his hand.

“It’s a pomegranate, you fool. You don’t bite into it. You have to cut it open.” She produced a fine dagger from inside her robes and made four long slits around the stem of the fruit before opening it like a flower. She handed it back to him, the insides gleaming with jewellike red clusters.

“Look at that, hey?” Karim said, amazed at the fruit’s surprising beauty. “Like a bunch of little rubies.” He took an experimental bite. The little clusters burst inside his mouth, filling it with a magnificent sweetness. “It’s good!”

Sitamun watched him with interest. “Where are you from, Karim? Your accent… I don’t recognize it.”

Karim licked the crimson juice from his lips. He’d been prepared to tell her his name, but everything else? Not yet.

“I’m a traveler,” he replied vaguely. “No one of consequence, unlike yourself. Speaking of which,” he went on, “why is a princess on the run from the royal guard? Isn’t your brother about to take the throne? I’d have thought you’d be needed at the palace.”

The princess narrowed her eyes. She’d noted the deliberate change of subject—and Karim had the feeling that she wasn’t going to let the matter go.

“Well, Karim the mysterious traveler. It’s a long story, and not one I’m likely tell someone I just met. No matter how charming their company might be.”

Karim flushed.

Sitamun tilted her head to Behkai, who sat worshipfully at her feet. “I meant the dog.”

Karim crossed his arms. This woman is really something else.

Seeing him, Sitamun relented. “Let’s simply say I wasn’t safe there, all right?” Her gaze drifted over Karim’s shoulder, to the river. “And I’m not safe here either.”

Following her gaze, Karim turned to see a fine ship coming down the river toward them, sporting a black and red ram’s head on its sail. A host of guards, dressed similarly to the ones in the marketplace, stood on the deck, scanning the riverbank as they went. They were distracted by some women washing clothes a little farther up, but the ship had only to come a little closer before they’d notice Karim and Sitamun sitting by the skiff.

The princess leaped to her feet, pulling the hood back over her head. “Thank you for everything you’ve done,” she said, “But I must go.”

Karim shook his head. “I don’t understand. Your brother is going to be king—who could you possibly be running from?”

The princess’s face crumpled with sudden anguish. “Him. I’m running away from him .”

Shocked, Karim thought of the image of Meryamun in the oracle—a handsome young man with bronze skin and a red cobra over his head. What had he done to send his own sister running for her life?

Run from the palace and straight into my path.

“Where are you planning to go?” he asked.

“I thought I’d travel south to Bubas. It’s the closest village large enough to hide in. I’ll have to go by foot, though. The guards are searching every vessel that leaves Thonis.”

Karim scoffed. “A woman like you, all alone, on foot? You’d never make it, sena! Between the heat, the lions, the wandering brigands…”

“I appreciate the encouragement,” Sitamun replied drily, and started to walk away.

“Hey now, wait a minute!” Karim went after her, Behkai trotting at his heels. He glanced back at the approaching boat, his thoughts racing.

I’d have to abandon the skiff, and I barely have enough food for the dog and me, no less a ravenous woman with no survival skills. And if the prince’s men find me with her, they’ll probably slit my throat on the spot.

If I was smart, I’d let her go , he reasoned. I’ve already got one stray to take care of. I don’t need another.

Djet’s puppy-dog face appeared in his mind, his eyes full of admiration.

You wouldn’t abandon a princess to the dangers of the desert, would you Karim-sen? he imagined the boy saying. Especially a princess so clever and so beautiful?

For some unknown reason, Djet had believed he was a hero.

He wasn’t. Far from it.

And yet… Karim couldn’t help but sense the boy still beside him, watching his every move.

He cursed under his breath as he tossed his pack over his shoulder and grabbed Sitamun’s hand.

“W-what are you doing?” she stammered, stumbling along after him as he began running toward the open desert.

Behkai, thinking it was all great fun, galloped after them.

“I’m helping you, woman!” Karim replied, glancing back to make sure the guards on the boat hadn’t seen them. “Now run a little faster!”

Sitamun picked up her robes so she wouldn’t trip over them and increased her pace. “But being with me is dangerous!”

Karim laughed with heavy irony, the wind rippling the dark curls of his hair.

“Don’t worry, sena, you’ll find out soon enough that it’s even more dangerous being with me!”