Dancer of the Nile (Gods of Egypt) (5 page)

No, it was a steady heartbeat under her ear, strong arms holding her reassuringly, not groping. She was pressed to a broad chest, a soothing voice murmuring soft words to her in crisp Egyptian, not growling Hyksos. Trying to calm her breathing, she let the words pour over her shattered nerves while the immediate terror of the dream receded.

“Easy, easy, shh, Nima, you’re here with me now. No harm will come to you, I promise. Wake up, shake off the dream world. Open your eyes, see you’re safe. Remember, we escaped together? I promised no harm would come to you.”

Nima concentrated on the deep, reassuring voice promising protection, drawing her out of the nightmare. Taking a shuddering breath, she opened her eyes, realizing she was safe in Kamin’s arms.

Relieved to see her emerging from the grip of the nightmare, he loosened his embrace the moment she made a slight movement to put distance between them. Gently, he stroked his hand through her hair, rubbed her back in circles. Shudders racked her body.

 
“You were screaming so loud your throat must be raw,” he said. “I couldn’t wake you.”

“I was in the flames, the inn burning. And then the men attacking me—” She caught her breath on a huge sob.

Gods, what an ordeal she’s been through.
Kamin quelled his automatic response to her, his desire for her, which was nigh impossible with her sitting across his thighs.
But she wouldn’t wake up no matter what I did, she was fighting the terrors of the dream so desperately.
“I’m sorry you had to go through the ordeal. I wish I’d been there to defend you.”

An edge of hysteria sharpened her laugh. “Amarkash came and reprimanded the soldiers, made them stop before they’d done more than frighten and bruise me. He said they had their orders, to treat me as untouchable, meant for someone else.”

“For himself,” Kamin said with fury, grinding his teeth. “The bastard.”

She shook her head. “No, he didn’t assault me either, thank the gods. He—he enjoyed inflicting pain. He enjoyed tying me up each night, describing awful things his general was going to do to me when we reached their fortress, but he didn’t go any further.”

“His general?” Kamin’s brow was furrowed. “He kidnapped you for someone else?”
Odd behavior, even for a Hyksos.
 

Wiping away a few lingering tears, Nima sniffed. “Apparently, the Hyksos had been to the village before, and several others in the area, and had seen me dance. My family travels through the Shield of Egypt province giving shows.”

Nodding, Kamin said, “The Hyksos have been studying this nome. I can easily believe they traveled the province in disguise to gain information on their targets before attacking.”

Nima blotted the moisture on her face with her sleeve. “Well, this general apparently gave strict orders I was to be captured at all costs and brought to him. Untouched.”

She took a deep breath, holding it as Kamin tilted her face gently, studying the faded bruises. Anger flared hot in his gut. “Among other unfortunate things, he left the definition of untouched to Amarkash. Let me get the wineskin. I think a drink would calm your nerves.”

Setting her gently on a rock ledge, he rose to get the wine. He’d bathed, rewrapped his own wounds, and donned a coarsely woven, brown-striped Hyksos kilt while she’d slept.
 

“I was supposed to take care of your injuries,” she protested when he came to sit down, touching the bandage on his arm lightly with her fingertips.

He glanced at his arm as he worked to uncork the wineskin. “I’m perfectly capable of doing field dressings.”
 

“I don’t drink wine normally.” She pulled away as he offered her the wineskin. “I have to keep a level head when I’m dancing for a crowd in a tavern.”

“Trust me, you’ll benefit from it today. A few sips, to please me?” He grinned. “There won’t be any dancing. I’m not trying to get you drunk, only take the edge off your nerves.”

“I wasn’t concerned about you trying to get me drunk,” she said with offended dignity. Drinking two quick swallows, she pushed the wineskin firmly away, slight tremors weakening her a bit. “I don’t like to lose control to the wine.”
 

When she dropped her head against his shoulder, her hair covered him like a soft blanket.

“You’re shaking,” he said, rubbing her arm. “Are you warm enough?”

Nima braided a plait of hair and then unbraided it. “I can’t get the nightmare out of my mind, much less the terror of the actual events. So many people dead, slaughtered. And the other young women weren’t as lucky as I was. Amarkash took me to his chariot, but I—I had to watch and hear what was done to the others. The women and the children and a few of the men who survived were sold as slaves to a slave master waiting outside town.”

Kamin covered her restless hands with one of his, curling his fingers around hers, rubbing his thumb along the edge of her hand. “What about your family?”

 
“They were away, performing at the name day celebration for a local noble’s wife. I pretended to be ill so I could remain behind.”

“Why didn’t you want to go with them?” He took a swig of the wine himself.

She closed her eyes. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve endless hours of daylight ahead of us since we don’t dare travel till nightfall. I’m a good listener,” he said, taking another short drink then capping the wineskin decisively. “Unless you think you could sleep?”

Half-braided hair flying, she shook her head, opening her eyes wide and putting a hand to her forehead. “The dream is waiting, like a lion about to pounce.”

“Well, then, distract us both with a story about the most beautiful dancer in Shield of Egypt province, handy with knives and poisonous herbs, who took pity on a poor soldier and rescued him.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Sounds like a scribe’s tale for children when you describe the events of the past few days in such fashion.” Kamin was gratified to see a slight smile on her lips as she responded to his playful tone. “It wasn’t nearly as amusing to live through,” Nima said.

 
“How is it you know about knives and herbs anyway?” he asked. “Hardly the usual training for dancers where I come from.”

Nima fingered the amulet on her left wrist. “My mother was a disgraced priestess, from a small temple. I don’t know where.”

 
Curious, he tried to identify which goddess might value dancing and knife-wielding assassins.
Kamin frowned. “Which Great One did she serve? I myself am sworn to Horus.”

“I don’t know. She died when I was young, and she never spoke of her life before, at least not to me.” With a dancer’s flourish, she held out her wrist. “This is my only clue about the goddess.”

Holding her hand carefully in his much bigger one, Kamin examined the single glazed oval bead, about two inches long, threaded on a simple black leather thong, knotted loosely to circle her wrist. Pale aqua green in color, the flat bead under the glaze had a partial hieroglyphic on one side and a raised, snakelike design on the other, with two tiny enameled flowers flanking the reptile’s head. “Nothing I recognize. Renenutet, the snake goddess, maybe? These resemble mountain flowers, so maybe a local deity related to the supreme snake goddess?”

“Who can say? I believe this bead was part of a longer necklace at some time. I think my mother kept it from her happier days in the temple. When I was a baby, she gave it to me as an amulet, but she never uttered the name of the Great One. She told me it might bring the goddess to me
 
in a time of need, but only once, so I wasn’t to use the gift lightly. When she was banished from the ranks of temple dancers, she apparently begged, not for herself, but for this one future favor on my behalf.” Nima squinted at the bead for a moment, rotating it on the thong with her fingertips. “Amarkash said it was worthless clay, so he left it alone.” She tapped the snake with one fingernail. “The amulet’s never brought me luck. It’s never brought me anything but comfort in the knowledge my mother loved me. Certainly no goddess came to help when the Hyksos captured me.” Eyes cast down, she blinked away a tear. “I don’t even know who my father was. Some rich and careless noble who abandoned her is what the troupe members told me, but I don’t know the truth.”

A bleak tale. My own family
 
frustrates me at times, but at least we know we belong to each other. And I resemble my father in all respects, gods grant he rests well in the Afterlife.
Kamin assessed Nima’s condition. She was still too pale, her body racked by occasional tremors, eyes unseeing.
Time for more distracting conversation.
“But you refer to the performers as your family?”

“My mother was a trained temple dancer, so after she was banished, she sought to make her living in the taverns, and this troupe took her—us—in.” Nima shrugged. “I was just a baby, so I don’t remember our life before we joined Dudekh and Gamisis and their players.”

“When you started dancing the other night, at the Hyksos camp, I was sure you must be a temple dancer,” he told her. “You had the classical movements perfectly.”

Her blush was enchanting, color flowing into her pale cheeks. “Thank you. Serving a goddess by dancing for her pleasure, living safe and secure in a temple, would be a dream, but I perform in the taverns and street fairs instead.” Nima put her head against his shoulder. “My mother drowned in the Nile when I was seven. I’ve always wondered if she walked to the riverbank planning to die. She was so unhappy.”

“But the performers gave you a home?” He tried to keep doubt out of his tone.
Such people are not known for their charity. And they don’t extend themselves to outsiders without good reason.

Her next words confirmed his opinion. “Not out of true kindness. I dance better than any of them, and they know it.” A strong note of pride rang in her voice. “I inherited my mother’s gift, and she trained me intensively before she died. The noble who hired the troupe on the night of the Hyksos’s attack was probably angry I didn’t come. Dudekh would insist I couldn’t be hired separately. The whole family had to be employed.”

“So they used you as bait to line their pockets?”
What a life of drudgery and sadness she’s had.

“Yes.” She sighed. “As I got older and stopped seeing through a child’s eyes, I realized they were not nice people.”

 
“You said they taught you to throw knives?”

“And brew poisons and potions, cheat at senet, pick pockets—” Counting the skills off on her fingers, she enumerated the unusual list wryly.

 
She had a triumphant little grin on her face.
Gods, I want to kiss her. Her lips fascinate me, but now is not the time.

Apparently unaware of his inner struggle over his body’s reaction to her, Nima snuggled closer.
 

“And I’m grateful, especially for your skill with cooking poisonous stews,” he assured her. “But why didn’t you go with the troupe to the noble’s celebration?”

Not meeting his eyes, she traced an intricate pattern in her skirt with one finger. “I feigned illness because I had been thinking for a while of running away from them. The night of the noble’s festivities seemed like my chance, only I was afraid to actually set out alone, unprotected.”

 
Kamin pursued the thought. “But what had changed about living and traveling with them? Why did you want to run away?”

“Dudekh’s old crone of a wife, Gamisis, kept pushing me to give private dances, as the other girls did, for men who could pay her for the privilege. I’m convinced that’s what the noble wanted.” Nima grimaced. “Although if I’d gone, the Hyksos wouldn’t have captured me. Maybe I should have given in to Gamisis.”

His arms tightened around her. “I swear to you, soldier’s oath, you aren’t going back to those people. When we get out of this predicament, once the Hyksos fortress has been destroyed—”

“A person has to have deben to live,” she said simply. “I need a roof, food, clothing, like anyone else. At least the troupe was protection when some drunken patron wanted to touch me or was waiting after the tavern closed to proposition me. I’ve received several private offers from rich men, nobles, to accept their protection, join their households exclusively, but I’ve no desire to be someone’s concubine, no matter how pleasant he may be or how good a lover. I won’t be a possession, discarded when I’m too old to dance.” Her voice rang with contempt. She played with the frayed hem of her dress, braiding and unbraiding the raggedy strands. “I want to be in charge of my own life, never perform again, unless for an audience of my own choosing. I want to see more of the world than the same border towns and taverns. I want to be respectably married someday, have children, be mistress of a household. ” Her voice trailed off, but after a moment she shook herself and straightened. “First, I have to escape the life I’m trapped in.”

Such simple dreams shouldn’t be out of reach.
He tilted her chin, reached to take the now-wilted flower from her ebony hair. “Well, then, we’ll get the nomarch who rules this province in Pharoah’s name to issue you a fat reward, genuine gold of valor, for saving my life, and you can make your way anywhere you choose.” He blew the limp petals off his fingertips.

Watching the tiny fragments spiral away in the slight breeze, Nima half smiled. “You dream big, soldier.”

Actually I dream of you now
. Kamin took a deep breath. “Nima—"