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The sun had passed its zenith by the time Bast’s boat reached the outskirts of Thonis. The current carried it swiftly downriver with no need for oars or sails—as if the Iteru itself knew the goddess had an important appointment to keep.

Neff had washed the blood from her dress in the river, and it had already dried in the afternoon heat. It wasn’t clean, really, but it would have to do. She leaned against the side of the boat, watching the capital grow from a distant smudge to a sprawling, vibrant city, spread out on land so flat that her view of it was unbroken.

First there were the green fields and the farms, crawling with workers and long-horned cattle, then came the flat-roofed mud-brick houses, not much different from her own. But there were so many of them. Most were shabby and poorly constructed, but as they drifted deeper into Thonis, the houses grew in size and quality. Instead of the standard brown mud brick, the fine houses boasted white limestone walls that seemed to glow under the desert sun. Ornamental paintings decorated the doorways with geometric patterns in red and yellow ochre and malachite, and flowering bushes and trees grew everywhere, adding pastel patterns of pink and orange and cream. The roads were not lined with gold as her friends had claimed, but the city was wondrous nonetheless.

They passed huge trading ships unloading cargo from distant kingdoms—ostrich feathers and animal pelts and fragrant spices whose scents were carried on the wind. Neff sniffed the air, and the smoky, intoxicating smell of whatever emerged from that ship reminded her of magic.

And that reminded her of home.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. Not only because she worried that blood would leak from her eyes, but because she didn’t want to show weakness in the presence of the goddess. The vision Bast had shown her—the vision from her dream—may have been terrifying, but she had been given it for a reason. Neff didn’t want to be snatched from her life in Bubas, but if she wished to understand the meaning behind the vision, the temple was the best place to do it. She didn’t know much about the Temple of Amun, but she knew all the greatest wisdom of Khetara lay within its walls.

They passed a busy marketplace crowded with vendors shouting about their wares, an artisans’ quarter, and several grand homes that were at least three times the size of the largest house she’d ever seen. She saw expansive private gardens, with date palms and fruit trees growing around them, and even a house with a miniature temple built beside it. She watched an older man head toward it with a tray of sacred offerings. There was nothing like that in Bubas. Nothing even close. Although Neff knew she had only traveled several hours downriver, she felt as if she’d entered another world.

As they drew closer to the city center, crowds began to form on the riverbanks, craning for a glimpse of the goddess before she reached the temple. There was already a palpable energy in the air, though the Festival of Bast wouldn’t start until sundown. People cheered and waved, and children ran into the water, deeper and deeper until their mothers shouted at them to stop. Most had their eyes on the goddess, but others stared at Neff with curiosity.

One of the little boys who waded in the water called out to her. “Who are you?”

Neff opened her mouth to answer but reconsidered. Instead, she shook her head and looked away as the boy’s mother released a string of threats until he swam back to shore.

Names had power in Khetara. Her father—despite the dubious quality of his spells—had taught her that much. In this new place, among strangers, she would be wise to take care to whom she entrusted hers. Besides, the question seemed complicated.

Who are you?

Neff thought she had known when she’d woken up at home with her family that morning. But now, on Bast’s boat, with her old life vanishing into the horizon like a mirage, she was no longer sure.

Unsteady, Neff grabbed hold of the side of the boat as it steered toward the riverbank. The bald priests who had accompanied them from Bubas leaped nimbly onto land and tethered the boat with ropes. The head priestess emerged from her cabin at the prow, squinting into the sunlight. She stretched her arms, nodded respectfully toward the goddess, and held out a hand to Neff.

“Come child,” she said. “We have arrived.”

***

Neff forced herself to walk a short distance from the high priestess as they followed Bast and her retinue up the temple road. She didn’t know what waited for her at the end of this journey, and the last thing she wanted was to cling to the priestess like a babe still wearing the sidelock of youth. She walked straight as a rod, eyes forward, trying to mimic the other woman’s austere bearing. Even so, she couldn’t prevent her eyes from drifting, eager to drink in the incredible sights all around her. The road was lined with ram-headed lion statues, at least a dozen crouching on each side. The statues studied her as she passed, their curling silver horns glinting in the sunlight, their eyes so lifelike that she shivered under their gaze.

Between and beyond the statues, a large crowd had formed to watch Bast’s entry into the temple. Many of them carried palm branches, jewel-green and fresh, which they waved at the procession, back and forth, the leaves slowly crossing and uncrossing in a mesmerizing rhythm. Others clapped their hands and sang songs Neff didn’t recognize, all in time with the high priestess’s sistrum, which she’d begun shaking the moment the procession had begun. It was all sound and movement and color, so dizzying that Neff had to stop looking and stare straight ahead once more. Only, what lay in front of her wasn’t any less overwhelming.

The temple gate was flanked by two enormous pylons—square, flat-topped towers that were engraved from top to bottom with sacred writing and images of warrior kings and gods. On either side of the stone gate, on pink granite thrones, sat enormous twin statues of Amun.

Like every other child of Khetara, Neff knew his name and his titles. The King of All. Protector of the Pharaoh. The Hidden One. The Invisible. She knew him, too, by his blue skin, his plumed crown. In High Khetara, there was no greater god than he, whose intangible form represented all that was mysterious in the world. As Neff passed close to the statues, she felt once more that the answers she sought would be hidden within Amun’s great house.

She wasn’t sure why she felt so certain. In fact, the certainty of her thoughts frightened her. She’d never been a particularly strong-willed girl, always doing whatever her father and mother asked of her. Even Henhen and Istara would comment on how easygoing Neff was. Henhen was loud and boisterous and loved to race, so when they were together, Neff raced with her. Istara was quieter and preferred board games like Mehen and senet, so when Neff spent time with her, she became quiet too, adjusting herself to compliment whoever she was with, as mutable as water.

But then the dreams had come, along with the first blood of womanhood, and she’d felt the change almost overnight. Like a soft clay figure left to bake in the sun, she hardened into a shape she hardly recognized. But who am I becoming? Neff had wondered, frightened by the powerful new sensations that filled her mind and body, and by the knowledge that a strange wind was blowing her in a new direction.

As she approached the gate, she studied the blue-skinned face of Amun. She, too, was hidden and obscure. Not only from the world, but from herself. Perhaps her time at the temple would bring things to light.

Before Neff and the high priestess could pass through the gate, a barrel-chested man with a leopard skin slung over his tunic marched out to stop them. He was completely hairless, and his skin looked as if it had been polished to a high shine.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded of the priestess. “This child cannot enter here!”

“Master Montuhotep, I apologize,” the high priestess said. “This girl is with me.” She placed one hand on Neff’s shoulder, like a blessing.

Master Montuhotep didn’t look impressed. With his burnished skin and eyes heavily outlined in black kohl, he seemed ageless, almost inhuman. “Then I’m sure you realize, Mistress Karo,” he replied, as if to a naughty child, “only those of the priesthood or the royal line may pass through this gate.”

The high priestess leveled the man with a challenging gaze, but her voice remained formal and polite. “Of course, High Priest. I was planning to discuss the matter with you after the girl has completed the cleansing ritual. She has been chosen by Bast to enter the priesthood, and as this is the goddess’s festival day, I thought it most auspicious. I’m sure you agree.” She spoke the last with the same condescension that he’d used moments before.

Master Montuhotep’s nostrils flared. “Chosen?” He glanced at Neff doubtfully. “She is nothing but a girl. A common girl, at that. How did you determine this?”

“She asked the goddess to interpret her dream and received a vision.”

“And?”

“And she cried tears of blood.”

Master Montuhotep’s eyebrow quirked. “Blood, you say?”

“If you don’t believe me, you can ask anyone in the village of Bubas,” the high priestess Karo added. “They all saw it happen.”

Master Montuhotep swallowed and looked at Neff with new eyes. His gaze strayed down to her body, and Neff was dismayed to see shadows of blood still remained on her dress. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around herself, shielding the stains from view.

“I see,” the high priest said. “And I expect you brought her here to train under my tutelage?”

The high priestess bowed her head. “As the preeminent Hour priest of Khetara, I thought it best, Master. Perhaps if you teach her, she will be able to interpret the goddess’s message.”

Neff was amazed. She’d never be able to afford the services of an Hour priest to understand her dreams, and now she was meant to become one? For all her fear, the idea filled her with excitement.

Master Montuhotep crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “I don’t know. A common girl…”

“Not the first,” High Priestess Karo said. “There are records of other children exhibiting a special connection to the gods, speaking their will unto man.” She paused, then added, “You forget that I was once a common girl as well. Unless you also doubt my right to the priesthood?”

The Master scoffed. “Of course not. But you know as well as I that the honor is most often passed from father to son. This is… highly irregular.”

The high priestess smiled and opened both her palms to the sky. “The gods work in mysterious ways.”

Master Montuhotep looked as if he had tasted something bitter and nodded. “Very well. I will do… what I can.”

High Priestess Karo bowed her head. “The goddess expects nothing less.” Neff could have sworn there was a threat laced between those words.

Master Montuhotep turned to Neff, his lip curled slightly in distaste. “You will come with me. These walls are sacred, and one must be cleansed of the… taint of the outside world in order to remain within them. Do you understand?”

“Yes, um, Master,” Neff replied, and started to follow.

“Just a moment, please,” the high priestess said. She put an arm around Neff’s shoulder and pulled her aside, into Amun’s shadow. “Now listen to me, child,” she said in a low, furtive voice. “The priests here are holy men, yes, but they are men still. The master will keep his word, but he and the others will not appreciate your presence in their domain. Just because you are allowed inside the temple does not mean you are welcome there. Take care in what you do. Watch. Listen. Do not disclose anything you don’t have to. And above all—choose your friends carefully. A good friend is a gift, but a bad one can lead to ruin.”

Neff’s pulse raced as she listened. The high priestess’s words reminded her too much of her mother’s. But the Mistress Karo wasn’t her mother. In fact, they’d only met that morning.

“Why are you helping me like this?” Neff asked.

The high priestess considered the question. “Because I was once like you. I thought perhaps I could save you from some of my mistakes.” A sad smile graced her face. “But it is really more for me than for you. You must make your own mistakes, Nefermaat. We all must. Just remember: you may doubt yourself, but never doubt the goddess. You are on this path because she deemed it so. Stay on it, no matter where it leads.”

Neff had been on the edge of tears all day, and once again they threatened to overflow. “I will,” she said, tremulous. “I promise.”

“May Bast be with you, wherever you go,” the high priestess Karo intoned, touching Neff lightly on the forehead, the throat, and on each shoulder. “Defender of the innocent. Avenger of the wronged. Lady of slaughter. Mistress of secrets.”

Neff watched the high priestess depart through the gate and follow Bast’s retinue, where the goddess would remain and receive blessings and gifts until she returned to her boat for the festival that night.

Master Montuhotep waited just beyond the gate, his expression grim. He watched the goddess pass by and then turned to Neff, who stood on the boundary between the outside world and the world of the gods.

She took a step, crossing under the winged scarab painted on the archway above her. One more step in shadow, and another into the light.

***