Page 5

The main street of Bubas was already buzzing with villagers by the time Neff and her parents arrived. It took them a little longer than usual because her father kept stopping to chat with everyone he saw, fishing for information about their lives so he could sell them a spell scroll.

“You and Khabak have been married for what, two seasons now?” he asked a young woman waiting with her husband on the street corner. “Don’t you think it’s time to think about starting a family? I’ve got a scroll for that, you know. You’ll be with child within the month!”

Neff rolled her eyes. Come on , she thought. Not now!

Finally, they managed to find a perfect spot to see Bast. It was near the edge of town, where the road started to curve toward the Iteru River. At the end of that road, a boat waited to carry Bast to the capital.

Neff saw a couple of her friends in the crowd—Henhen, the baker’s daughter, and Istara, the papyrus merchant’s girl. She’d known them both forever, and often visited them in their family’s market stalls whenever Yati let her have a break. She waved. They waved back, beaming with excitement.

“Neff!” Henhen called out. “Will you be at the festival tonight?”

Neff remembered her promise to stay at the market until midnight and bit her lip. “I hope so!” she shouted back.

Bast only visited once a year, and that night, the village would be alive with celebrations. There’d be singing and dancing, and perhaps even some tiger nut sweets. Neff’s mouth watered at the thought of the little balls of nuts and dates and honey. Her mother wasn’t the only one with a sweet tooth.

“My father got permission to ask the goddess a question!” Istara added. “Isn’t that amazing? He’s been waiting for the nomarch to choose him for two years! He’s going to ask her to give us another brother! Not that I want one.” She laughed.

Neff ignored the sting of envy. “Amazing!” Turning away, she felt a thorn of doubt creep into her heart. Even if she didn’t get into terrible trouble for addressing the goddess without permission, who was to say that the goddess would answer her question?

Don’t think of that , she scolded herself. Standing on the tips of her toes, she strained to see over the crowd to where Bast and her retinue would process. She’ll be here any minute!

Then, a ripple of excitement passed through the gathered villagers.

“She’s coming!” someone shouted.

A moment later, Neff saw it: a beautifully crafted wooden palanquin, held aloft by four bald-headed men in white loincloths, carrying a sacred boat. It was about five cubits long, with cat heads carved into its bow and stern. A canopy covered the center of the boat, and behind its blowsy, translucent curtains, Neff caught her first glimpse of the goddess.

Bast was beautiful. An exquisitely carved statue, the goddess was a cat-headed woman in an intricate striped-pattern dress, made from dark smooth bronze. She held a basket in the crook of one arm and a sistrum in the other. At her feet sat four bronze kittens—three large and one small.

A tall, sharp-eyed woman with deep-brown skin walked at the front of the procession. Like the litter bearers, she was bald too. Three black tattoos, each drawn in the shape of the wadjet eye, adorned each of her shoulders. Over her simple white dress hung a large golden necklace—a broad collar in the shape of a half-moon, adorned with the head of a cat.

The high priestess of Bast. Neff wondered how old the woman was. No matter how many times she’d seen her at the annual festival, she never seemed to age.

As the priestess walked with Bast’s boat sailing through the crowd behind her, she shook a sistrum, and the rhythmic, jangling sound of its copper rings silenced the crowd as she came. Neff watched the palanquin stop at intervals, allowing the villagers who stepped forward to petition the goddess.

“Will my father be healed from his sickness?”

“Should I take revenge on those who have wronged me?”

“Will I ever find love?”

With each question, the palanquin paused for a moment before leaning forward for yes, or backward for no. After receiving their answer, the petitioners bowed their heads in thanks and retreated back into the crowd.

The questions seemed endless, despite the limited number of people with permission to ask them. It wasn’t surprising, given that poverty and hunger loomed over Bubas like a shadow, but it took what felt like an eternity for the goddess to make her way down the street to where Neff and her parents were waiting. Her father watched the position of the sun, growing increasingly impatient.

Finally, he said, “We’ve seen the goddess. People up the road are starting to leave. We should get to our stall before we lose the whole morning.”

“Not yet,” Neff pleaded. “Just a bit longer.”

Her father huffed in exasperation but blessedly said no more.

Neff turned back to the street—and just in time. Bast’s retinue was right on top of them. She’d been so eager for this moment, but now that it was upon her, Neff felt a sudden terror at stepping out into the street.

It was just a dream.

The procession passed in front of her, the sound of the high priestess’s sistrum clanging in her ears.

It was just a dream.

A moment more, and her opportunity would be lost.

Neff had all but decided to abandon her plan when a breeze ruffled her hair, carrying the smell of honey, smoke, and wine. Neff closed her eyes, intoxicated, and when she opened them again—

She gasped. She had stepped out right in front of the high priestess.

The woman regarded her with dark imperious eyes.

All around her, the crowd murmured in surprise.

“Sweetheart?” she heard her mother say, quiet and afraid. “What are you doing?”

“Get back here!” her father barked, and Neff felt his hand on her arm. But before he could pull her back, the high priestess spoke.

“You have a question for the goddess, child?” Her voice was velvet soft, like a purr.

Neff swallowed. “Yes, High Priestess. I didn’t get permission to ask, but…” She caught a glimpse of Henhen and Istara watching her, open-mouthed. Gathering her courage, Neff balled her hands into fists. “But I think it’s important.”

After a moment of consideration, the priestess nodded and swept an arm toward the palanquin. “You may approach the sacred boat.”

Neff almost collapsed with relief.

She stood before the goddess, her body covered in a cold sweat. She could feel the weight of the crowd’s stare.

“My petition is not a yes or no question,” she said. “Is that all right?”

The high priestess cocked her head, curious. “You may ask whatever you want, child. Whether you are given an answer?” She shrugged. “That is up to Bast to decide.”

Neff nodded and turned to face the canopy. She clasped her hands in supplication, both out of respect and to stop them from shaking. Sinking to her knees, she began to speak.

“Praise to you…” She paused, ashamed of the weakness in her voice. “Praise to you,” she began again, a little stronger. “O Bast, Great Lady of Bubas, beloved mistress of pleasure and secrets. Please hear my prayer. Every night, I have a dream. The same dream. I know it’s important, but I can never recall what it’s about. I’m sorry if it’s too much to ask, but I thought maybe you could help me remember.” Her whole body tensed as she waited for an answer.

Nothing happened.

People in the crowd shifted uncomfortably. Out of the corner of her eye, Neff saw her father’s face, pink with anger and embarrassment.

Neff felt the sting of humiliation deep in her chest. Fool , she thought bitterly. What made you think the goddess would speak to you?

Then, all at once, a fierce wind began to blow, like whispers through papyrus reeds. It carried the same intoxicating smell as before, but stronger. Many in the crowd cried out and covered their faces as the khamasin lifted whorls of sand, sending pricking clouds into their eyes. Neff braced herself and squinted at the palanquin. Unlike everyone else, the litter bearers stood resolute as the sand struck their bodies. The wind lifted the canopy’s filmy curtains in a slow, undulating dance, removing the only barrier between Neff and the goddess. Neff stared, her eyes locking on Bast’s dark face.

Behind her, the priestess began to shake her sistrum once more, the percussive sound growing louder and more ominous with every passing second.

The goddess’s feline face loomed large above her, one moment the tranquil, gentle face of a mother looking down upon one of its children, and the next—

The cat became a lioness.

And she roared.

Neff screamed as her mind was suddenly battered with images. Visions of darkness and desolation and blood. So much blood.

The lamb .

The lamb.

The lamb.

The images were unrelenting.

She knew at once that she’d seen them before, but not like this, never like this, not with her fragile waking mind. Neff tried to close her eyes, but her body wouldn’t respond. She felt as if an invisible hand had reached out from beyond the veil and held her fast. Her screams turned to sobs of terror.

The lamb.

The lamb.

The lamb.

She saw it all. The desert. The grievous wound and the crimson wool. The sea of blood. Seared into her mind like a sizzling brand. And the words of the lamb. She heard those, too.

Then, as if someone had yanked her up from the bottom of the sea—it was over. The images stopped, the sistrum quieted, the wind eased. And as it did, the blowsy curtains fell back in place, shielding the goddess from sight.

Neff gasped like a drowning girl coming up for air.

She blinked, dizzy and confused. Her face was damp with tears. She wavered, unsteady on her feet, her mind caught between dreaming and waking. A small frightened moan passed through her lips, and she collapsed onto the dusty road.

The high priestess was the first to reach her as the crowd erupted in confusion.

“What happened, child?” the woman asked, kneeling by her side.

Neff curled into a fetal position, her palms pressed against her eyes. “I remember… I remember…” she cried over and over again. “The lamb…”

Half a dozen people, including Neff’s parents, pressed closer, all of them trying to see for themselves what had happened.

“Move away!” the priestess shouted in irritation. “Give her some air.”

The people took a couple steps back.

“Come,” the priestess urged, gently pulling Neff’s hands from her eyes to help her to her feet. “Get up if you can. We can’t have you lying in the middle of the—”

The priestess stopped abruptly, her jaw slack. Behind her, the crowd fell silent.

Neff blinked into the blazing sunlight, bewildered by the wide-eyed faces encircling her.

Why do they look so scared?

Suddenly self-conscious, she sat up, wiping at her tears. It was only then that she noticed the red smears on her fingers. The sight of it sent her head spinning—had she cut her palms in the fall? But no, her hands were uninjured. Where was the blood coming from?

Shaking, she touched a finger to her face, to the track of tears she could feel still falling from her eyes. It came away shining, bright as carnelian.

Neff’s heart was in her throat as someone shouted, “Gods preserve us! The girl cries tears of blood!”

***

News of Neff’s encounter with Bast swept through the assembled crowd, and people closed in so that they, too, could catch a glimpse of her. The noise and press of bodies was terrifying, and Neff clutched at the high priestess for protection.

Raising the sistrum high in the air, the priestess shouted, “Enough!”

Cowed by her fury, the crowd fell back and quieted.

“You dare disrespect the goddess on her day of worship? Go back to your homes and places of work. Speak not of this, lest you are willing to bear divine judgment for the carelessness of your words.” There was a pause as she turned in a circle, as if to encompass every soul within her sight. “Do you heed me? Now, go!”

With a low murmur, the crowd dispersed. After sharing a word with the litter bearers, the high priestess turned back to Neff, who still sat on the dusty road. Her face, which had been imperious a moment before, softened. “Come with me, child,” she said, reaching out to Neff.

Hesitant, Neff took her hand, and the priestess pulled her to her feet.

The high priestess turned to Neff’s pale-faced parents, who huddled nearby, and said, “You will accompany me to the river.”

It was not a request, but a command.

Neff’s mother and father nodded, and followed them to the riverbank without saying a word.

There was a large boat and crew waiting there, ready to carry Bast and her protectors north to Thonis for the festival that night.

“Go and cleanse yourself in the river,” the high priestess told Neff. “I must speak to your parents.”

Why? The word sat on Neff’s tongue like a small stone. She’d wanted to ask it, but it remained heavy behind her lips, held there by the high priestess’s imposing gaze. Obediently, she knelt at the edge of the riverbank.

She felt strangely numb as she dipped her hands into the cold water and watched the blood swirl away. When she was done, she cupped her hands and splashed water against her face. She gasped as the cold drove the cloudy feeling from her mind. Suddenly, she became very aware of what had just happened—aware and afraid.

What if Bast took offense to my question? she wondered. Has the goddess cursed me? Perhaps the high priestess is telling Mamet and Yati of my fate. What if I have doomed them as well?

Tears began to well in her eyes and she quickly wiped them away, terrified she would find more blood. But they were clear, normal tears. Whatever had happened to her before was finished. It felt unreal, like a dream. Yet unlike her other dreams, the images the goddess showed her hadn’t faded. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the lamb, and heard its ominous voice.

I remember now , Neff realized. For better or for worse, the goddess had answered her prayer.

Neff glanced back at her parents. She couldn’t hear what the high priestess was saying to them, but she could see its effect on their faces. Her mother’s eyes were wide, and she had both hands pressed to her mouth. After a moment, she dropped them into a pose of supplication.

“Please,” her mother said, loud enough for Neff to hear. “I’m begging you. You can’t. She’s our only child.”

“Ahura! Control yourself, woman,” her father scolded.

He took her mother’s hands in his and quietly apologized to the high priestess. His expression was stony, serious—totally unlike the smile he always wore for his customers. But he didn’t look horrified. In fact, he seemed… excited?

With a curt nod to Pepi and Ahura, the high priestess concluded her discussion. She turned from them and met Neff’s gaze. “You may join us now.”

Neff rose on wobbly legs and approached them. Her eyes darted from one person to another, trying to anticipate what was about to happen. The pride in her father’s expression confused her, and the sorrow in her mother’s filled her with dread. The high priestess’s face was unreadable. When she spoke, it was without preamble.

“You have been touched by the goddess, Nefermaat,” she said, and Neff’s name had never carried such weight. “Your life now belongs to Bast and the gods of this land. I have spoken to your mother and father, and it is agreed that you will accompany me upriver to Thonis, where you shall be prepared for the priesthood.” She paused to allow her words to sink in.

Neff stared at her, speechless. “B-but,” she stammered, “I’m not—”

“It is not an easy life,” the high priestess continued. “Not for a girl, not for anyone. But it is the life chosen for you by the divine. Obey their decree, or suffer the consequences of their displeasure. Do you understand?”

Neff swallowed, trying and failing to catch hold of the thoughts and questions that whirled through her mind.

“What about my things?” she blurted. “I have nothing but the clothes on my back.” She looked down at her white dress and was mortified to see bloodstains down the front of it.

“You need take nothing but your immortal soul,” the high priestess replied. “All else will be provided for you at the Great Temple. Now come. I have already tarried too long. The goddess awaits.”

Neff shook her head. It was all happening too fast. Her house, her sleeping mat, the little paddle doll she kept from when she’d been a baby… would she see any of them again? And what about Henhen and Istara? The stall at the market? Who would help her father run it? When she’d left home this morning, she never thought it would be for the last time.

She turned to her mother. “Mamet?” she said, a quaver in her voice.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Her mother gathered Neff into her arms. “You must take care of yourself, all right? Always wear your sandals outside, and watch for snakes, and remember how I taught you to keep your hair shiny, yes?” Her eyes brimmed with tears.

“Mamet.” Neff hugged her mother’s small body against her own. “I’m scared. I don’t want to leave you.”

Neff felt her father’s hand against her head.

“Don’t you see?” he said as she turned to him. “This is wonderful news, my girl. Wonderful! I was angry when you stepped out of the crowd, but now I see you were led by a divine hand! Now when the people come to our stall in the market, I will tell them all about you . My Neff, chosen by the goddess to do great things. I’ve always known it. Always. When you were born, I told your mother. Didn’t I, Ahura?” He turned to his wife, and she nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. “I told her: ‘Name her Nefermaat.’ Beautiful truth. That’s you. You’re going to make us proud. Do you hear? They’ll come to see me from all over Bubas, from all over the kingdom, just to hear your story.”

“But—”

“Go on now,” he broke in. “Can’t keep the goddess waiting, can we?”

But I thought you were already proud , Neff wanted to say. Instead, she took a deep breath, pressed her lips into a thin line, and said, “No, Yati, we can’t.” She turned to face the high priestess.

“Are you ready?” the woman asked, gesturing toward the sleek vessel that rocked gently in the current.

“No,” Neff whispered, her lip trembling. “I’m not.”

She stepped onto the boat.