Sphinx's Princess (11 page)

I never said I’d speak to Father about
marriage
, but Ikeni heard what he wanted to hear. I saw a spark of hope flash in his eyes. “I’ll take you to see him at once!” he cried.

I made a swift, silencing gesture. “Secretly,” I said, keeping my own voice low. “No one must know I’m here.”

“Why not? If we’re betrothed—”

“Father would be angry.” And that was certainly true!

“Oh.” Ikeni nodded and led me into the high priest’s house.

From the moment I crossed the threshold, I saw riches. I knew that my own family was one of the most prosperous in Akhmin, but next to the splendors of the high priest’s house, we lived in a mud hut. The walls were painted with the same brilliance as the outer temple walls, the wooden columns supporting the ceiling so bright with gold that
they shone even in the dim light of the oil lamps. And the lamps themselves! They were everywhere. Their sweet scent made me realize that they must be burning costly perfumed oil. Chests and tables and chairs shimmered with fantastic patterns of rare and costly woods from distant Punt and the lands of the Nubians, beyond the birthplace of the sacred river. Some flaunted exquisitely carved legs decorated with gold, ivory, coral, and turquoise.

Ikeni brought me to a doorway. The room beyond was small but even more brightly lit than the rest of the house. “Father?” Ikeni clapped his hands twice. “Someone important is here to see you.” He took me by the elbow before I could object to his touch a second time and steered me inside.

The high priest sat in a splendid, high-backed chair, the gilded legs carved to look like lions’ paws. There was one table to his left, laden with several small, ornate wooden boxes and many papyrus scrolls. The remains of a meal—a platter of discarded goose bones, half a pomegranate, a mostly eaten lump of bread—lay on the smaller table to his left. He was in the act of refilling his cup with wine when he saw me. He was so startled that he jerked his hand, staining his white linen kilt with red. For a few heartbeats, he looked confused and even a little afraid.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. He glared at Ikeni. “Why have you brought her? If her father finds out, he’ll use your stupidity to destroy me!”

“But Father, it’s all right,” Ikeni said, eager to restore peace. “I didn’t bring her. She came here by herself.” He laid his hands on my shoulders.

“She did
what?
” The high priest’s eyes narrowed with mistrust.

I shrugged free of Ikeni’s hold and stepped forward, bowed, and raised my hands in a sign of reverence. “My lord, I’ve come here by myself, of my own free will. My father and mother don’t know anything about this. In the name of Isis, whom you love and serve, the lady of life, I ask for—”

“We’re going to be married after all!” Ikeni blurted. “No one I know will ever have such a beautiful wife. Isn’t it wonderful?”

The high priest looked from me to his son and back again. Our eyes met, and for an instant we recognized that we shared the same opinion of Ikeni’s … wisdom.

“Most wonderful,” he said dryly. “Ikeni, leave us.”

Ikeni looked hurt and bewildered. “But she said she’d marry me! Shouldn’t I be here for—?”

“Go.” The high priest didn’t need to raise his voice; his son hunched his shoulders as if protecting himself from a blow and slunk out of the room. When he was gone, the high priest turned to me. “Should I believe him?” he asked. “Do you want to marry my son after all?”

I shook my head. “That’s not why I’m here.”

This time his smile was almost sincere. “Good. I’d hate to think I misjudged your intelligence, Nefertiti. Not every girl in Akhmin knows how to read and write.” Shock showed plainly in my face, making him laugh. “Don’t gape like that. Of course I know. The gods have ears.”

“More likely the servants have tongues,” I muttered. It
would only have taken one eavesdropper during Father’s argument with Henenu to shatter my “secret.”

That made him laugh even more. “You
are
a sharp one. My own wife—may Osiris cherish her as I did—was also a woman of great wisdom. I wouldn’t be where I am today without her by my side. And yet, as smart as you are, you’ve come to my house by night, alone. No one would call
that
wise. Whatever has brought you here must be very important indeed.”

I bowed to him a second time. “Lord, it is. I’ve come to ask for the life of the slave girl who saved mine.”

“Ah, Mahala the flute player? She was born in this house to one of my Habiru women. They say that those who are slaves from birth give you less trouble. So much for
that
theory, eh?” He smirked. “Her people don’t know our gods, so the will of Hapy meant nothing to her, but the fact remains that she publicly defied her master. If such things go unpunished and other slaves hear of it, where will it end? I made the only righteous decision.”

“A decision you can change,” I said. “A decision you
must
change.”

“Hmph! Strong words. And why
must
I? You look as grave as if the fate of all Pharaoh’s realm depends on my obeying you!”

I lowered my eyes. “Lord, I have—I have had an evil dream.” I told him my old vision of the lions, the way it had been before I dreamed of the Great Sphinx and defeated them. Many of the gods’ priests understood the art of telling the future from dreams, and no one could possibly
interpret my long-ago dream as a good omen. I never said that the dream was an ancient one, or that its fearful monsters were no longer a threat, or that it had nothing to do with the slave girl’s fate. I had scattered a handful of truths in the high priest’s lap and hoped he’d string them together in the way I desired. I felt a stab of guilt for my deceit and tried to comfort myself by thinking:
This is different from an outright lie. And is it wrong to mislead a man who spoke greater falsehoods in the god Hapy’s name?
But I was still ashamed.

When I finished my story, the high priest looked suitably concerned. “What a terrible dream. My dear child, not even the most famous of Pharaoh’s dream-readers could find a flicker of hope in such a dreadful message from the gods. How can I ignore it? If that’s what moved you to come here so secretly, it must be a true vision. And if I spare the slave girl’s life, all will be well?”

I knew he was talking about averting bad omens, but when I answered, “Yes, all will be well,” I meant that an innocent life would be saved.

“So we’re in agreement.” He smiled at me with so much charm and kindness that I couldn’t help smiling back. He no longer seemed like the disagreeable old bullfrog who’d shared our table. Maybe I’d misjudged him. Then his eyes flashed with malice and he said: “Too bad I don’t have the power to bring back the dead.”

“Then she’s already been …” I choked on the words. My cheeks burned, but my eyes stayed dry. How I wanted to strike out at this mean-souled, leering man and his cruel game! My right hand lifted, as if it had its own free will.
Stop
, a level voice sounded inside my head.
If I slap that nasty grin
from his face, he wouldn’t hesitate to make Father, Mery, and Bit-Bit suffer for it
. I forced my hand back down and became Sekhmet again. “Then may the gods reward you for what you’ve done. Good night.”

“Not so fast, girl!” The high priest sprang out of his chair and had my arms pinned to my sides before I could even turn toward the door. “We have unfinished business.”

I squirmed and struggled in his grip. “Let me go! I have nothing more to say to you!”

“I disagree.” He was a strong man and had no trouble hauling me across the floor and shoving me down into his chair so hard that it rattled my spine. “You wasted my time with that flimsy nonsense about your
supposed
dream, but I’m not the kind of man who wastes a good opportunity. Have you forgotten Ikeni? Your bridegroom?” His teeth were sharp and white, like a jackal’s. “Once there’s a kinship bond between our families, your father will have to treat me with more … courtesy. You’ll stay here tonight, and in the morning you will be escorted back to your father’s house with all the ceremony and spectacle suitable for such a happy occasion.”

“Do it, then!” I snapped, digging my fingertips into the arms of the gilded chair. “The bond won’t last a day! I’ll be free of your son before noon. Even if people believe Ikeni wed me, marriage is a house with an open door. I can walk out any time I like!”

“And where would you go? If you leave my son quickly, after having rushed to his arms tonight, all Akhmin will see you as a common little slut. You’ll never find another husband.”

“I don’t
need
a husband,” I countered. “I can take care of myself!”

“But can you take care of your father’s reputation? There are many men in this city who envy his success as Pharaoh’s overseer. It won’t take them long to send letters to the royal court, every one saying:
How can Ay look after Pharaoh’s affairs when he can’t even look after his own daughter?
”

“Pharaoh wouldn’t believe them,” I said staunchly. “He loves my father.”

“No. He loves your
aunt
. If your father became an embarrassment to her, she’d turn her back on him in the blink of an eye and take all of her royal husband’s favor and support with her.”

I shook my head. “She’s his sister. She wouldn’t.”

“She’s Queen Tiye. I’ve met her.” The high priest’s grin grew even wider until the jackal became a crocodile. “She would.” He shouted two names and a pair of gangly boys about my own age came running into the room. They were as thoroughly shaved as he, priests in training from the look of them.

“Master, is everything all right?” one of them asked, the lump in his throat bobbing wildly.

“Better than that, lads,” the high priest replied easily, gesturing at me. “The house of Isis has a new mistress. Your companion Ikeni has taken a wife. We’ll celebrate her arrival properly tomorrow. For tonight, she will be given the best room under my roof and the two of you will have the honor of seeing that no one enters or leaves. No one. Is that clear?” The boys bowed to show they understood and were
ready to obey. The high priest turned to me once more. “Your escort awaits.”

The boys marched me through the priest’s house, one walking ahead with a lamp, one walking behind me. I didn’t try to run away from them. They would have caught me, and I’d had my fill of unwelcome hands on me that night. It didn’t take us long to reach my prison. “Best room” or not, a prison was its rightful name. The boy carrying our light went in first and used it to kindle the alabaster oil lamp inside. Soft radiance glowed over fine furniture and walls painted with a scene of dancing girls. The freedom of their movements seemed to mock me.

I sat down on the bed and stared at the wall. From the corner of my eye I saw the priests-to-be bow very low to me before leaving the room and pulling a blue and yellow curtain across the doorway. No doubt they were on guard just outside. I looked around the room for possible escape, but unless I could learn to be an earthworm and burrow my way out, I was trapped. The only window was too high for me to reach, even if I stood on the bed. There was a small storage chest in the corner, so I tried balancing it on the bed and using it to lift me higher, but the bed frame creaked and sagged so sharply under the extra weight that I toppled off. I landed on my feet without doing any further harm to the foot I’d twisted climbing the outer wall, but that was as far as my luck went. I was still a captive.

And in the morning, I’ll be paraded back to Father’s house as Ikeni’s wife
, I thought angrily.
Father will put an end to that “marriage” right away, but not before everyone in Akhmin starts
jabbering about where I was tonight, and why. And if they don’t know what happened, or if the truth’s too tame, they’ll make up a nastier tale to tell, just to amuse themselves. O Ma’at, how I wish your sacred Feather of Truth could send all storytellers’ hearts straight down the gullet of the monster Ammut! My whole family will be shamed. And it was all for nothing. The girl is dead. I should have stayed at home and tried to find out if she were still alive before running headlong into this mess.

I covered my eyes with both hands and sighed loudly.

“Mistress?” One of the boys spoke up in a reedy voice. “Do you want something?”

“Nothing,” I replied. “Leave me alone.”

“Don’t call her ‘Mistress!’ ” Now I heard the other boy’s voice, deeper and scratchier than his companion’s.

“Why not?”

“It’s too soon, for one thing. For another—” His voice dropped so low that all I could hear was: “—old Mistress’s spirit
mad.
”

Reedy Voice giggled nervously. “Why would she care if I call Ikeni’s bride ‘Mistress’? She’s been dead for five years. Her spirit is living happily in Osiris’s kingdom.”

“That’s not what the cook’s son told me,” Deep Voice said darkly. “Or the girl who used to be her maid. Both of them saw her. The girl broke one of old Mistress’s favorite perfume bottles and the next thing she knew, her cheek was throbbing as if someone had slapped it hard! But she was the only person in the room. And the cook’s son says that once, when he was hiding to avoid doing his work, all of a sudden his shoulders began to sting and sting and
sting
, just
as if someone were beating him with a stick! He ran away, yowling.”

“I thought you said they
saw
old Mistress.” Reedy Voice sounded as skeptical as I was. By now I’d crept closer to the curtain, eager to hear more about the so-called ghost.

The other boy made an impatient noise. “They both said it was her! How would they know that unless they
saw
her? Thoth help you, you’re stupid.”

“I’m not the one who still can’t read through the shortest scroll without making more mistakes than fleas on a donkey!” They bickered back and forth like that for a while and finally settled their quarrel by insulting Ikeni behind his back. While they chattered on, I went back to sit on the bed again but not to sleep. Those two had given me a most precious gift: an idea.

It didn’t take me long to put my plan together. Once I’d found my inspiration, working out the details was surprisingly easy.
A plan like this is just another kind of storytelling
, I thought. I recalled my sister’s face, so filled with fascination and delight when I entertained her with the tales I created. Somehow that memory gave me the confidence I needed to bring off the plan at hand.