Dancer of the Nile (Gods of Egypt) (18 page)

He grunted, juggling her in his arms a bit as he stepped over some rubble. “Hard to imagine anything worse.”
 

“We should say something over the graves, after you’ve finished. It’s the least we can do.” Nima laid her head on his shoulder, blinking back tears, thinking hard. “Do you remember any passages from the Book of the Dead? You keep such a library in your head, or so you boast.”

Giving her a sideways glance as he worked his way carefully through the ruins toward the least-destroyed house, Kamin seemed amused, a slight grin on his lips. “I’m hardly a priest.”

“Never attended a funeral service? Never heard any of the chants?” She was disbelieving.

“My father’s, several years ago.” His face tightened.

Wishing she could soothe away the obviously painful memory,
s
he kissed his cheek, the stubble scratching her lips a bit. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, you’re right.” He shook his head. “These people were innocent victims of war, and we’re going to shelter in their home tonight, so we owe them something.”

“If we recite even one blessing from the Book for them, the abbreviated ritual might win their sacred kas a chance to be judged by Anubis, get them into the Afterlife.” Sighing at the memory of the underworld, Nima said, “We know how beautiful it is there.”

Holding her close, he kissed the top of her head. “You’re an exceptional woman. The gods blessed me the day they sent you into my path.”

“Oh, the day you were captured and beaten half to death?” Despite her teasing tone, she was pleased, warmed by his praise.

“Worth it, to find you.” He sounded serious. Then he changed the subject. “I bagged a couple of rabbits while I was exploring the far side of this oasis. I’ll clean them—”

Relieved to have a useful task she could perform while seated, Nima volunteered eagerly. “I’ll be happy to sit and do the cooking. We can have a fire?”

 
“A small one,” he said. “There’s a good supply of clean-burning dung next to the hut I’ve picked for tonight, so a cooking fire shouldn’t generate much smoke. I think Amarkash was counting on those hellhounds to track us and keep us cornered till we could be recaptured. Such spells take huge amounts of power, so the priest won’t be able to work another one for a few days. And we didn’t leave much in the way of tracks, thanks to the wind. Horus must have asked the Great One Shu to send the breeze our way.”

“But the Hyksos will come after us eventually. Amarkash isn’t giving up.” Thinking back to her time as his captive, Nima knew she spoke the truth.

 
“The fact they exercised their god’s power shows how much they want to get their hands on us,” Kamin said, not disagreeing with her assessment.

He settled her inside a small, partially burned house, whose main amenity was an intact roof. After building a minuscule fire in the fire pit, he sat next to her, preparing the rabbit carcasses to be cooked. She unwrapped her foot, sucking in her breath as the fading sunlight streaming
 
through the broken walls revealed ugly green and purple bruises bracketing gashes where the creature’s teeth had savaged her.

“The wound is healing, definitely less angry red than before.” Kamin leaned closer to check her
 
injuries before resuming his food preparation. “How does your foot feel?”

Tracing the edge of the swollen area with her fingertip, she frowned. “About the same—aching. But not as damaged as when we first stopped on the rocks. And those scary black streaks under the skin are all gone.”
 

“The kiss of Renenutet must have counteracted the poison in the wound. I was worried you’d lose the foot, to tell you the truth.” Setting one last chunk of neatly trimmed meat for the stew on top of the pyramid he’d built, Kamin rinsed gristle and juices from his knife in a small bowl. “Thank the gods the priest who cast the spell was clumsy.”

Nima bathed her ankle with the water he’d brought her in another salvaged basin. “I’d like to dance for Renenutet one day, to give proper thanks, you know?” Wincing, she lifted her dripping foot out of the shallow bowl and patted it dry. “Do you think the Great One would allow such a thing?”

“I don’t know why not. A goddess should be pleased to have one of your skill perform for her.”

“I’m not trained properly,” Nima demurred.
 

“You’d be dancing from your heart, not stepping by rote through your training.” Fetching more clean water from the well, he poured it into the stew pot, splashing a bit on the dirt floor of the house they’d commandeered for the night.

 
“I should see what herbs are in the gardens behind this house to season the stew, add sustenance. If there were to be aloe, I could make a poultice, and my ankle would heal faster,” she said.

“Good idea. We can go harvest after you get the rabbit stew simmering on the fire.” He shook his finger at her. “But no unusual spices in this kettle!”

She laughed. “Nothing but the basics, I promise, since there are no Hyksos to join us at dinner this time.”

“Thank the gods.” He searched through the piles of rubble in the one-room dwelling. “Will you be all right by yourself while I take care of the grim task awaiting me?”

Inclining her head slightly, Nima sighed. “Come get me when you’re ready to chant, and I’ll act as official mourner for these poor people.”

He squeezed her hand and ducked out the door.

Stirring the stew lazily, Nima sat lost in thought, shifting occasionally, trying to find a more comfortable position for her foot. A feeling she was being watched gradually crept over her, making the skin between her shoulder blades itch and goose bumps rise along her arms. Turning her head, she let out a small scream.

Perched on the windowsill was an oversize gray and black falcon, staring at her with unblinking eyes.
 

One hand at her throat, ladle raised defensively in the other, Nima got to her knees, facing the bird.
Horus, this must be Horus.
But why would he seek her out? Kamin was sworn to his service, not she.

Spreading impressive wings, the falcon glided silently from the window, banking around her and landing beside the fire. Folding his wings again, the feathers on his back smoothing, the bird tilted his head.

Deciding to speak first rather than sit and cower, Nima said, “What is your wish, Great One?”

“You delay my warrior’s progress.”

The voice was deep, filling the small house, echoing off the damaged walls. Nima rocked back on her heels, ignoring the flash of pain from her wound. “I’ve tried to argue with him, make him leave me behind so he can reach help faster. He won’t listen. He’s sworn to protect me, and he’s a man of honor.” Pride in Kamin was a small glow of warmth against the chill of terror gripping her in the god’s presence. She didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry Horus was remaining in the bird form, rather than showing himself in all his glory. At easily ten times the size of a normal falcon, the bird was intimidating enough.

“His oaths to me and to Pharaoh, his duty to Egypt, come first before protecting you, woman.” Horus sidled closer, cruel talons digging into the sandy floor.

Nima’s thoughts whirled, and her tongue felt thick, paralyzed by her fear.
Is the god going to attack me?
She forced a few words to emerge. “I’m a loyal subject of Pharaoh, too, Great One.”

“Loyalty is not enough. Action is required—
you
must be removed from the game board so my warrior can accomplish his task before all is lost.” Horus folded his wings, preening a bit as he did so.

He’s going to kill me.
Nima’s heart stuttered, and vertigo made her dizzy. Faster than she could blink, the falcon pecked at the golden bead on her wrist, tapping it with stinging force before he recoiled and back-winged in a flurry of feathers. She almost missed what the god said next.

“It seems Renenutet still acknowledges a connection to your fate. Not an insurmountable obstacle to one such as I, but her influence must be duly considered.”

“You and she fought the Hyksos black magic together, back at the rock plateau,” Nima reminded him, rubbing the red mark on her arm where his massive beak had struck. The golden bead seemed unharmed on its makeshift string bracelet.

Horus sat blinking for a long moment. Nima felt it was almost as if he was listening to someone else, although the tiny ruin of a house was utterly silent, aside from the crackling of the fire and her rapid breathing.

After flying to sit on top of a pile of rubble, the falcon puffed his chest feathers and spoke. “The enemies of Egypt would be satisfied to recapture you alone.”
 

“Give myself up to them again? After all I went through—all
we’ve
gone through—to escape their net?” Taking a deep breath, Nima shut her eyes for a minute, unable to believe what Horus was suggesting.
Throw
 
myself to the mercy of the Hyksos or die here?
Shaking her head, she stared at the falcon. “Kamin would follow me, as he’s sworn to do, and either we’d both be taken prisoner again, or executed.”

Rising to his full height, eyes gleaming uncannily in the shadows, the bird flared mighty wings for a moment. “Trust me to direct his steps once you are gone.”

“Can you heal my ankle?” Nima asked the most logical thing first, hoping against hope. “Then we can proceed to safety together.”

Apparently, her request caught him by surprise. Blinking, feathers rippling along his spine as if there was a breeze, Horus opened his beak in a hiss before answering. “I’m no healer, woman. I deal death to the enemies of Egypt. Look to others for the balm of healing.”

“All right, then.” She’d had scant hope the Great One would take pity on her and mend her foot. Now to keep him from freeing Kamin from distractions by sending her to the Afterlife permanently. “I’ve no intention to offend, but I’ve a mundane request—can you bring me something from the garden?”

***

Later, as the orange sun touched the clouds at the horizon in a flare of purples and reds, Kamin returned to the hut after taking a makeshift bath outside by the well. She could hear him splashing, and his hair was wet when he re-entered the hut. Nima and Horus had concluded their business long before, after which the Great One had taken his leave, and she didn’t mention the god’s visit.

When he’d cleaned up as best he could, Kamin carried her to the other side of the village, where they stood side by side next to the freshly mounded soil. Weaving together excerpts from various portions of the Book of the Dead, he chanted in a rich baritone, requesting the Great Ones who ruled the Afterlife to allow the poor souls of the nameless village free passage to the joys of the
duat.
Leaning on him, Nima felt a sensation of peace come over her as he uttered the sacred words. Surely, even though the two of them had no ability to perform all the complicated rituals called for, the gods would accept what had been done as enough.

When Kamin completed his prayers, he nodded to her, and she cast a handful of wildflowers on the grave, saying from the heart as she did so, “May you each ride in the boat of Ra the Sun and be received graciously in the court of Osiris the king, to find the joy and peace torn from you in life. May your names be known to the gods for all time as true Egyptians.”

Far out in the desert, a falcon shrieked a challenge as thunder rolled. Losing her balance, Nima startled, pulse pounding. Kamin caught her in his arms.

“I hope someone will do us this much honor when we’re departed from the earth,” Nima said as Kamin picked her up to carry her to their temporary refuge.
 

“I wish it hadn’t been necessary,” he answered. “I wish the Hyksos were gone from these lands and Nat-re-Akhte could rule our people in peace.”

Twining her arms around his neck, leaning as close as she could get, Nima said, “Surely the map and other information you carry will affect the balance of power in this province, tilt the scales for Egypt.”

“We’ll see. I’ve worked up an appetite now, carrying you,” he teased. “Will the stew be done soon?”

She pushed at his shoulder, her small fist making no impression on his well-sculpted muscles. “I weigh next to nothing, and you know it, soldier. But, yes, I think we could eat.”

He had two bowls of her delicious rabbit stew, augmented with vegetables they’d harvested in the abandoned gardens. Although he urged her to eat, Nima dined sparingly. As night fell, they curled up together beside the fire in the ruins of the small house, Kamin holding her close, until she was sure he had fallen asleep, despite his expressed intention to remain alert and on guard through the night. Nima waited until his breathing evened out, and he was deeply lost in slumber before wriggling from his arms.
 
Thank goodness the garden held both the herbs to drug him into sleep and the ones I needed to stay unaffected.
She took another pinch of the latter for good measure now, swallowing the powdered leaves with water from the pitcher. Tenderly, she covered him with his cloak, dropping a kiss on his cheek. Dousing the fire so no passing enemies would see it and investigate, she retrieved the cane she’d created for herself after the encounter with Horus. Using the cane she’d fashioned from a broken table leg, she hobbled to the doorway.

Pausing for one last look at her lover, Nima wiped away a tear.
I wish I could write, wish I could leave him a note, something to beg his forgiveness.
“Please don’t hate me, Kamin, no matter what Horus chooses to tell you.” Resolutely, she walked into the moonlight and made her way into the desert, painfully retracing the route they had taken.