Reflections in the Nile (55 page)

“Thut the First continued to have children. His first wife gave birth to one lovely daughter, then another, whom they named Hatshepset. About the time Hatshepset was in the schoolroom, but was yet a child, Ramoses killed Nefer-Nebeku; he was Hatshepset's betrothed. By the time the news reached Thut, Ramoses had already escaped into the desert.

“Thut sacrificed many men searching for his errant son. He was willing to forgive, until an Israelite slave named Do'Tan came forward, claiming that Ramoses had killed his royal cousin in a fury over a slave.” Imhotep chuckled, but this time his laughter held no humor. “Thut was enraged. His eldest daughter had just died under mysterious circumstances, his younger son had died in the cradle, and his middle son was a weakling from a common slave. Hatshepset was his only successor.

“He called back the soldiers from the desert and set the whole country about the task of removing Ramoses’ cartouche from everything and replacing it with Hatshepset's, whose name he changed to Hatshepsut, living forever!”

Of course, Chloe thought. Changing her name from that of a noblewoman to first among the favored noblewomen. “Living forever!” was a phrase each pharaoh inherited and that Moshe had ignored in his dealings with her.

“Possibly because she was to be the crown prince, she continued to wear the clothes of a young man, though it was scandalous by the time she was sixteen Inundations.” He paused and licked his lips. “I thought I was safe, that Thut had forgotten me. Unfortunately I was wrong. One day while I was reading the sacred scrolls of Ptah, soldiers entered the temple and took me. Pharaoh told me that because of my family's prior contributions to Egypt, I would be given two choices. I could serve in the temple at Noph for seven Inundations, then be killed as a traitor, or I could be banished immediately and made to wander outside of Egypt's glory for the rest of my life.”

“So you chose banishment,” Chloe said.

“Nay. I chose the temple.”

Chloe frowned in confusion.

“Pharaoh ascended to Osiris before my term was up. Hatshepsut was forced to marry Thutmosis the Second, living forever!, and the torchlight was off me for a while,” he explained.

“So, when did you begin your life as an
anu?
”

Imhotep shivered and blanched. “When I saw something so terrifying in the Temple-of-the-Ka-of-Ptah in Noph that I knew human eyes should not view it.”

Chloe's pulse leapt “What? What did you see?”

His black stare bored into her. “Do you realize that if I tell you, I will be releasing this power again?”

“Tell me,” she pleaded.

“Very well, but may the fear be on your soul. I saw a
kheft.”
Chloe sat back, surprised.

“A sem-priest stepped into one of the smaller rooms and, crossing his breast in obeisance, knelt A fire seemed to consume him, changing his hair and his eyes before he disappeared.”

Chloe could scarcely hear, blood pounded so loudly in her ears. “Then,” Imhotep said, “he reappeared. Only not as before. He was wearing the guise of a man, but he was in great pain. I ran to him, kneeling by his side. Blood poured from his nose, mouth, and ears; I knew he would not live. He was gasping to say something, and I leaned closer, trying to hear what his last words were.”

Chloe leaned closer, her body covered in a cold sweat. “What did he say?” she choked out.

“It was a foreign tongue I do not know. He died. Then he changed back to a
kheft,
with pale hair and skin.” Imhotep looked down as if ashamed. “I knew if someone asked who he was, there would be a great investigation, so I weighted his body and took it to the Nile, leaving it as an offering to Sobek.” He warded off the Evil Eye with a gesture. ‘That night I took my belongings and all the gold I had saved from selling things before my disgrace, and crept out of Egypt.” He stared past Chloe at the painted hieroglyphs on the wall, and Chloe stared at her café au lait-colored hands.

GOSHEN

T
HUT
III
LOOKED ACROSS THE CITY
. Already others had moved into the houses abandoned by the escaping Israelites. At last count several other tribes had joined their exodus. No one had been heard from.

Just like Hatshepsut. Thut swallowed. He knew she was dead; though they had been blood enemies, they were also blood relatives, and he sensed she was no longer in this world. The soldiers he'd sent after her had found nothing except tracks leading into the Red Sea. No bodies, no horses, no chariots. Surely if she had gone to another country, she would have at least sent a courier to let him know. He very much doubted she had gone anywhere willingly. She was dead. Perhaps the final justice of the desert god who'd laid Egypt to waste was that even the bodies were gone, a snub to Egypt's afterlife rituals.

Thut began pacing, the heavy fringe of his blue kilt brushing his muscled thighs. What harm would come for Egypt to know that Pharaoh had been killed and nothing remained of her? To a country whose self-esteem and personal pride were based on the actions of the royal godhead, it would wreak even more havoc in this already lost and distraught land! What could he do? The people did not even know she was dead. His pretense was running out of time. It had been almost seventy days since her departure. For how long could he rule as Hatshepsut, living forever! before she was declared dead? He'd wanted the double crown, but not at the price of Egypt's pride.

He turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Two soldiers entered the room, their kilts dusty and travel stained. They saluted sharply, their eyes straight ahead. He saw the younger one's thigh was bandaged. “Life, health, and prosperity. What happened?” he asked, gesturing to the wound.

“It is nothing, My Majesty.”

Thut raised his brows but motioned for them to be seated and called for beer. “What is your report?”

The older man leaned forward. His wig was askew, and Thut could see his peeling scalp. They had been in the sun a long time. “We found none of the soldiers, My Majesty. But we did follow some tracks. They led toward the copper and turquoise mines, but then were lost. There were two sets, one man and a young boy or …”

Thut's hand tightened around his goblet. It could not be! “Did you find them?”

“Aye, My Majesty. A man and woman were living on the edge of the sea. They had set up a house and were farming a small patch of land. We took them by surprise.”

“You captured them?” Thut asked, setting aside the goblet. “They are here?”

The soldier swallowed and squared his shoulders. “Aye, My Majesty, we did capture them, but they escaped a few days into our travel. During a skirmish a mountain cat killed two of the soldiers. The male captive was wounded. The woman took advantage of the situation and stole a horse. Majesty”—the man's eyes were wide—“she rode on its back!”

It must be they, Thut thought. “Then?”

“She and the man rode into the heart of the desert mountains.”

“Did you search for them?”

“Aye. For several days. The mountain cat was trailing them, so I doubt they survived. We had little water left and began to walk west to the Inland Sea. Two of the soldiers volunteered to stay and continue the search.”

Thut's muddy gaze rested on the soldier, who looked down. “The woman's eyes were green.” It was a statement.

The soldier nodded. “Aye, My Majesty.”

“The man moved like a cat and had eyes of gold?”

“Aye.”

Thut sighed. Of course, he knew they had escaped Hat's justice and wondered fleetingly in the past weeks if they had fled with the Israelites or had just left at the same time. He'd been informed that Cheftu had booked passage on a ship for the Great Green, but with the confusion of a third of the population dying and another fifth disappearing, he had not found out if they had made the ship. It was obvious Cheftu had stolen RaEm away from her rightful punishment; Thut had seen the dead guardswomen with their wounds of medical precision. Only one man could kill so cleanly.

He sighed again. They would have to be found. They knew, and as far as he could tell, they were the only ones who knew what had happened to Hatshepsut and her select guard.

The soldier stood before him. “Go. Refresh yourself for two days. As Ra rises on the third you shall be leading fresh soldiers out to resume the hunt. They must be found. Alive.” Thut moved his hand and they bowed, backing toward the doors. He walked onto his balcony.

The swollen river ran like a band of silver, hammered out into a hundred filigreed ribbons, weaving through the black soil. Most of the workmen's houses were flooded, and Thut knew that behind him was a rough town of temporary dwellings from which the
rekkit
watched the waters recede, leaving the thick, black mud that was life in this land. His kilt stuck to his legs in the humid heat, and for the first time since the suicide of his wife, Thut felt a tremble of desire.

Also he felt a rumble of unease. Something pricked his memory, and he called for guards. The last time he had been with a woman…

Decans later Thut walked through the quiet, predawn streets, looking for that one path. Two bumbling soldiers followed him, and he forced himself not to run and lose them. The firstborn … how long would Egypt mourn their loss? He reached the river and realized that once again he had gone too far. He turned and walked back, looking carefully each way, searching for the narrow path to the old hidden temple.

He was staring at the ground abstractedly, when he seemed to see, darkly drawn in the sand, the outline of horns and a disk. He looked up in the direction the horns pointed and could see the trail, hidden by branches and ostraca. Stepping over and moving shards of rock, he walked down it, winding through the ragged undergrowth. The path dipped, he remembered, then ended flush against a door.

Thut remembered the door, left a crack open in that unforgiving darkness of months past. He pushed it, and it yielded, Stepping into the small stone chamber, he saw the bloodied stone couch. That poor girl, he thought. She had been so young, so innocent. Drugged, he realized now. She had never known a man, but he'd wager she'd had sensual encounters. Her reactions had testified to it.

May it please the gods, they would never have to resort to such archaic religious ritual again! The gods were not blood-thirsty, and Thut still felt unclean from the sacrifice he had made. ReShera had been her name, and he was certain he had seen her before.

He walked through the room, his sandals echoing faintly. Why had he come here? Why?

Because something was not right. Hatshepsut had passed judgment too quickly, and Cheftu had been startled at the sight of the girl. Hadn't he even said he'd thought she was older? Even the Sisterhood had not pursued RaEm as they should have, but let her go, preferring to worship HatHor without two priestesses. Actually the new RaEmhetep priestess had taken her place, but she was four years old. Thut, a royal prince Egypt, inducted to the Seven Degrees of the Priesthood of Waset and the Three Degrees of the Temple-of-the-Ka-of-Ptah, knew that such worship was unwise.

Thut sat on the stone couch, staring at the first rays of morning that picked through the clerestory windows. The room, brightening in the sun, had not been opened since that dark day. Debris was piled in the corners, a testimony to the ferocity of the plagues. In this room built of pristine white Old Kingdom stone, unused for dynasties, the bloodstain was a deep scar.

He kicked at the debris, angered and uncertain as to why. A link of metal on stone drew his attention. Kneeling on the floor, his bare hands mindless of the dead and decaying refuse, he pushed back the rotting foliage, feeling for whatever made the noise. He scrabbled in the pile for many moments, and then his fingers brushed it … a chain.

The inscription on the tiny gold scarab was easy enough to read even in the weak light. The implication was astounding. He looked around the room again, a room that he alone and another priestess had ever entered. He himself had carried her drained body to the door. Thutmosis swallowed. A gold scarab lay in his hand.

Gold, the one thing never to be worn by a priestess of HatHor. I was inscribed with a name far different from the one the priestess had given.

“Basha.”

Thut left the room, almost running up the hill in his haste to reach the temple. He wanted some answers.

C
HEFTU AWOKE IN
E
GYPT
. I
T SEEMED LIKE
E
GYPT
. He smelled the myrrh of temple ritual, his body was supported by the lightly woven bands of an Egyptian bed, and he felt the complex linen bandage around his leg—Egyptian design. Strange.

that his last memories were of heat, cold, rocks, sand, and raging pain as they ran on and on, fearing even to spend a second of turning to see their pursuers.

Where was Chloe? He murmured her name and felt a cool hand on his forehead but it was not hers. A voice spoke, sexless and authoritative. “Your time together is limited, my lord.” What did that mean? The fear engendered by the statement was powerless against the exhaustion in his half-dead body. He slept.

C
HLOE WAS SEATED NEXT TO A SLEEPING
C
HEFTU
; he'd been resting for a week since she'd woken up, waking only to eat. How long had they been here? Time seemed to stand still between meals and naps and board games.

Khaku came in, beckoning to her, and Chloe followed him through her room and the bathing chamber into the room at the back of the tent that she had observed earlier.

It looked like Merlin's cavern, Chloe thought. Star charts were scattered about, and against one wall were baskets of all shapes and sizes holding labeled and sealed containers. She cried out when she saw Imhotep.

He was facedown. Khaku bent and cradled the old man, clicking his tongue in grief. Chloe counted his pulse; it was strong. Kahku carried him to the couch and laid a feather in the torches. The singed smell brought Imhotep around He was weak, but fine. He sat up on shaking arms and looked around frantically, as if he'd misplaced something.

He peered at Chloe, an expression somewhere between fear and admiration. “Leave us, Khaku. Bring the young man; we must talk now.”