City of the Dead (19 page)

The sky changed from its odd shade of red to a brooding gray as we ran. I called to Neferet to halt a moment, and we stood at the canal edge, hands on our knees, panting. Moments later we were running again and were soon on the east side of the village, where the floodplain neared the village wall. We slowed to a walk.

“How will we get in?” I asked.

“You will see.” Her voice caught on the words and she coughed. We stopped, and I was helpless to do anything but pat her back. She raised a hand and shook her head. “I am well. Let’s walk.”

We continued on and Neferet pointed to a tree that grew close to the wall, its roots stretching toward the floodplain. “When I was younger I used to tell father that I was going to see a friend on the other side of the village. But I would really sneak over the wall here and walk along the water, sometimes all the way down to the river.”

I frowned at the isolated stretch of canal outside the village wall. “Not safe for a young girl.”

She smiled. “Yes, I am much more careful now.”

She meant it to be humorous, but her words struck me and I looked down in guilt. How had I allowed her to be put in danger this way?

We reached the tree and Neferet jumped to grab a limb and swing herself to the trunk. On the run under this strangely threatening sky, I should not have had cause to laugh, yet I did. To see her go from limb to limb like one of Tamit’s pets gave me great amusement.

“Are you afraid?” she called down to me, laughter also in her voice. “Surely the grand vizier of Egypt can climb a tree.”

“Surely he can,” I said and followed her up as quickly as my throbbing head would allow.

We reached the middle limbs and Neferet shimmied across a thick one to the village wall. I still did not know how we would make it down the other side, but I trusted the little-girl-turnedwoman who had come this way before.

When we gained the village wall, about as wide as my body, I saw that we were behind the Temple of Horus, where Merit and Mentu had met in secret. Its stone walls crept close to the wall, with only a narrow alley between. It was too far to drop to the ground inside the wall. Neferet crawled on hands and knees along the top of the wall. We would not be seen, with the temple wall blocking us from the rest of the city.

Stone chips littered the top of the wall and dug into my palms and knees as we crawled. Jagged cracks in the wall threatened to topple my balance. After a few moments I climbed to my feet and walked with one foot placed carefully in front of the other. Neferet looked over her shoulder at me, then copied my actions.

“I was never brave enough for this as a child,” she said.

“How far?”

“Only a few more cubits. There.” She pointed ahead, to where the temple ended and the enclosure wall, at about my height, ran parallel with the city wall for a length.

We dropped onto the enclosure wall, then were able to manage the rest of the drop to the ground.

“You did this as a child?” My ankles and knees had protested the jump.

Neferet put her finger to her lips. The temple and the street beyond were not empty. “We can let no one see you are in the village. You are far too easily recognized.”

We hurried along the edge of the wall and peered out into the street engorged with people standing and watching the sky. At this time of the morning the laborers should have been heading toward the pyramid, but a holiday seemed to have been declared.

“We will never get through this crowd unseen,” I said. I gripped the back of my neck, aware of the tightness building again.

She shrugged. “Their attention is elsewhere. And it is sometimes easier to remain unseen in a crowd than as a lone traveler.”

“If anyone sees me …”

Neferet bit her lip. “I know.”

“I don’t think I should be here, Neferet. I’ve put you in enough danger.”

“Where will you go?” she said, hands on her hips. “Back to prison? Will you run across the desert until the jackals take you?” Her nostrils widened as she spoke.

“You are angry with me?”

“I am angry that men do not like to be helped. But you need my help, Hemi. You have no where else to go. And no one else to help you.”

“Perhaps I should return to prison and accept my sentence.”

“No!” The anger left her then, and she flung herself at me. “No. No, let me take you to my house, to tend to your wound. Then we will figure out what to do.”

I pulled her from me. “The guards saw you, Neferet. They will come here very soon looking for you, and for me.”

“Then we must hurry,” she said and took my hand.

The streets hummed with the crowds, and we plowed through, heads down. I feared to make contact with another’s eyes, certain that I would be recognized and hailed.

Another flash and crack from the heavens sent women and children squealing and running in every direction. A young boy rammed me, and his head drove the air from my stomach. I righted him and continued on, trying not to lose Neferet’s feet.

It seemed to me that we twisted in circles through the village, winding past the bakery and brewery, then around the barracks and through the sections for families. At last Neferet slowed, reached back and grabbed my arm, and pulled me through a familiar doorway.

The silence inside the house was like a protective shroud. I followed Neferet without speaking, through to the central courtyard of the home.

Sen was there, pacing like a caged animal.

“Neferet! Where have you been?” His eyes strayed to me, and his face went dark. “I thought you were in prison.”

“I got him out,” Neferet said. She went to her father and embraced him. His arms lifted automatically to encircle her, but he stared at me.

“What have you done, girl?”

“Sen,” I said, “the king has sentenced me to die for the murders. I am innocent. Neferet—she helped me to escape before my death.”

Sen pulled Neferet away from him and held her by the arms. He scowled at her painted face and revealing dress. “And guaranteed your own death at the same time!”

“I had to do it, Father. I could not allow an innocent man to die and the murderer to go free.”

Sen pushed Neferet aside with the gruffness that comes with anger at a loved one. “She is impetuous and foolish, but you—” He paced away from me, then back, his open palm upraised. “You I would have expected to take more care! How could you have endangered my daughter this way? Do you not care for her at all?” Thunder rumbled again, but Sen’s voice roared above it.

I hung my head. “You are right. I should never have allowed this, nor put you both in more danger by coming here.”

Neferet glared at her father, then at me. “I must get some things to tend to your wound,” she said, and marched away.

Sen grew quiet. “Guards hurt you?” he finally asked in the murky light of the approaching storm.

“It is nothing. I should not have come.”

A deep crease formed between his eyes. “The young do foolish things.”

I half smiled. I had not been called young in some time, and Sen was far younger than my father, but it warmed me somehow to have him treat me so. We were far from grand vizier and overseer today.

“Allow Neferet to tend to my head, Sen. Then I will leave, and you can tell the king’s men that you don’t know where I am.”

“And where will you go?”

I shook my head. Neferet returned with a jug of wine and some clean rags. She poured some of the wine on a rag and gave me the jug. “Drink.” She pushed me toward the bench beside the small pool.

I sat and swigged the wine. The cool bite of the spirit revived me, but I could have merely waited for the sharp sting of Neferet’s treatment. She cleaned the wound on the side of my head, then dipped the rag in the pool before cleaning the blood from my neck and shoulder.

“You need to shave,” she said, running a finger over the stubble on my head and cheek.

“Should have used the knife Khufu gave me.”

She swatted my arm. “That is not funny.”

“Are you finished? I need to leave.”

Sen watched from across the courtyard, his arms folded. “I ask you again, Grand Vizier, where will you go?”

“I have no idea. I could perhaps find a way upriver to Thebes or Aswan. Maybe I could join up with traders and go on to Sinai, or to Nubia.”

Neferet’s eyes clouded. “And be a fugitive for the rest of your life?”

I exhaled and looked away.

“You must stay and fight, Hemi! Fight for your freedom, and fight for justice. If you run, there will be neither.”

Sacrifice yourself, Hemiunu, or there will be more suffering, more
pain, more disorder.

I felt tired but knew it was dangerous to linger. I wished I could stay forever, under Neferet’s care. But to stay would bring destruction upon this house.

Sen grunted from his place against the wall. “You have brought your trouble here with you, now you must let us help you deal with it.” His voice carried anger, but it was like that of a raging bull with no horns. “We will hide you.”

“Where? They will surely look for me here.”

“There is a place. A place that we have created to be kept secret from those who wish us harm.”

The People of the One. I remembered the hidden door, the great chamber that had been made by combining households that adjoined, at the center of the village block.

“And then what?”

“We will make a plan once we have you there. There must be a way to find the true killer. But first, you must be safe.”

“Father, the meeting place is on the other side of the village. There are so many about today. How—”

“Leave that to me,” Sen said. He pushed away from the wall, gave me a final glare, and disappeared into the front of the house.

Neferet smiled, like a little girl whose father has given her sweets. “I knew he would help you.”

I laughed. “I think I knew it too.”

* * *

We were sitting on the courtyard bench side by side, Neferet and I, when the rain came.

I do not know what rain is like in other lands. I have heard that far from here, where there is no life-giving Nile to pour its moisture over the land every year, the rain falls gently and often. But here in Egypt, we have no need of water from the sky and do not know what to do with it when it comes.

Neferet screamed, and I threw an arm around her shoulder and hurried us both under the cover of the house. We went to the kitchen, where Neferet cut melon and figs for me.

Sen returned, with rainwater running in channels from his head, down his chest, and pooling on the floor beneath his feet. “We leave soon,” he said simply and grabbed a fig from the board.

“While the sky still cries?” Neferet found a rag and began patting her father dry.

“All the better.” Sen pulled the cloth from her hand and finished the task himself. “Most are indoors. Those that are crazy enough to be about are well occupied.”

“But he cannot simply walk down the street. Many will be in their doorways.”

Sen smiled, as a father will smile at his child, and patted her cheek. “Trust me, daughter.”

Neferet’s eyes filled. “I—I am afraid.”

Sen pulled her into an embrace, and I watched with not a little jealousy. “I know, child. But I will take care of him.”

My own eyes watered, and I turned away. How had this happened? I was grand vizier, second in command of all Egypt. Not long ago Senosiris was practically a nameless laborer to me. And now I stood in his home, my fate in his hands like he was master.

Or father.

From outside the house, I heard a whistle.

“Here they are,” Sen said. He pulled Neferet from him and turned to me. “I have called for that cursed litter you arranged for me to travel in when you gave me my new position.” He moved toward the front of the house and motioned for me to follow. “We will ride inside together with the curtain drawn. No one will stop us.”

From inside the doorway, we surveyed our transport. Four slaves stood in the rain, heads down, awaiting us. I hoped we could rely on their silence, for I was certain they would recognize me.

The litter was not fashioned in as ornate a style as my own, but the cedar poles and box were lovely. Gold rings encircled the four poles near the joints of the box, and a tan curtain with red embroidered palms covered the front. I saw at once, however, that the litter was only large enough to house one man on the bench inside it, and not even a large man such as Sen.

He lifted an eyebrow in my direction. “It would appear that we are soon to know each other even better.”

“Father, stay here,” Neferet suggested. “Send Hemi in the litter alone.”

He patted her shoulder. “It is too risky. If the rain does not deter them, I would expect Pharaoh’s guards to be here any moment. They will come looking for me, and it would not do for my litter to be crossing the village without me in it.” He leaned down to peck her on the cheek. “Trust me.”

I was beginning to glimpse that trust was something that did not come easily to Neferet. I set aside the thought for future pondering.

“Ready?” Sen asked me. I nodded and took a deep breath. He extended a hand, indicating that I should climb in first. I ducked out into the rain, pushed aside the curtain, and scrambled to the back of the box.

Inside was a simple bench, just wide enough for a man and deep enough to recline. I sat all the way back, with my legs stretched in front of me. Sen was in a moment later, and from his hunched position facing me, he snorted. “This will be interesting.”

“Sen, I—”

He held up a hand. “Say nothing. It is better to say nothing.”

He rotated his bulk in the box, then sat heavily on the front part of the bench, between my knees, with his legs painfully crossed
in front of him. Neferet peeked her head through the curtain and looked as though she couldn’t choose between laughter or tears.

“Stay indoors, Neferet,” Sen said.

She waved a hand at me in farewell and I smiled.

The curtain fell closed, leaving the inside of the box in twilight. I could see nothing but the tan of the cedar and the darker tan of Sen’s back.

With much groaning, the slaves heaved the litter poles to their shoulders. The box rocked as they lifted, pushing the two of us against first one side and then the other until we were at last positioned parallel to the ground. We started off with a dip and a lurch that knocked Sen back against my chest. I heard him exhale heavily and knew he was not pleased.