Chapter 2 The Sixth Chime
The Sixth Chime
“How much longer until we are there, Mwt?” Femi whined. “We have been traveling for hours.”
Bahiti huffed, waving her hand to dismiss her eldest daughter’s complaints.
The chariot hit a rock, jostling Zahra and the other passengers as it rode up the hill, away from the Iteru river, where they had spent the last few hours sailing.
Zahra leaned forward to see if the center of the capital city was in sight, but the line of chariots ahead of them blocked her view.
She sighed and hugged herself. Her father’s letter burned in the back of her mind.
Soon she would find him and put this matter to rest.
“Mwt?” Femi asked. “How far away are we? The future queen should not have to endure this wait.”
Bahiti’s youngest daughter, Keket, scoffed from beside Zahra. “He will not even look at you, Femi. He will be looking at me.”
“You?” Femi barred her teeth. “The King wouldn’t dance with someone like you.”
“Hush.” Bahiti pinched the bridge of her nose. “The King will not want to hear you prattling on and on.”
Keket crossed her arms, letting out a huff. Femi watched her mother out of the corner of her eye. When she was sure Bahiti was distracted once more, she smirked and leaned toward Keket. “Fish brains.”
Keket’s lip formed a tight line. “Rotten pig.”
Bahiti smacked both of their hands. “Enough! We are here.”
Keket and Femi shoved each other as they both stood at the front of the chariot.
Zahra leaned over the edge. The pr-aa—where the royal family and important officials lived—came into view.
It glowed a brilliant white, lighting up the early night.
Below the pr-aa and by the temple stood the obelisk, which soared over the surrounding buildings.
Zahra recalled her father’s fascination with the obelisks, which allowed each city to tell time.
During the day, the obelisks cast shadows on the ground to mark the sun netjer’s journey across the sky.
At night, the moon cast similar shadows.
An hour priest resided inside the obelisk during the day, and the priest would ring a large, bronze bell when the shadows reached certain markers.
During special times of the year, such as during a lunar eclipse, an hour priest also manned the obelisk at night.
The obelisk chimed twice. The Pa-sekhemty Feast had begun.
Bahiti moved her head, blocking Zahra’s view. “When we stop, you must stay near me. If anything about my daughters’ appearances goes awry, you will fix it in a timely manner. Understood?”
Zahra swallowed. “Yes, Mistress.”
Their chariot followed the procession, winding up the hill and past the festivities the locals were hosting, until it reached the glorious fountain in front of the pr-aa. Water flowed through a pillar covered in carvings of the sun netjer, trickling down until it rested in a circular basin.
Zahra followed Bahiti off the chariot as Keket and Femi whispered threats to each other. Bahiti shoved the two girls aside. “By Re’s eye, have either of you any sense?”
Zahra slipped away while Bahiti was lecturing Femi and Keket, wandering down the hill toward the temple. She would return by the time the Feast ended at six Atum, she was sure. If she was fortunate, Bahiti wouldn’t even notice her absence.
The excited chatter about the Feast faded as Zahra walked toward the temple.
The buildings that sat between the pr-aa and the temple were many, and the roads were filled with merchants and visitors alike trying to find a place to set up for the night.
Zahra gazed at the moon. It was low in the sky and shimmered with white. It wouldn’t turn red for some time.
Zahra pushed through the crowds, passing by the obelisk as the front of the temple came into view, though it was not open at this time of night. Zahra spotted the temple housing some distance from her. It had been a couple of years since she had visited her father’s residence.
She climbed a set of stairs before knocking on a familiar door on the second floor. The door opened, revealing an older man in wab priest robes. He looked to be five or more years her father’s elder and had curly white hair and a thick beard.
Zahra swallowed. “Good Atum. I am here for the wab priest Omar. Have you heard of him?”
“I am his roommate, Kamil.” He scrutinized her with narrowed eyes. “What business have you with him?”
“I am his daughter.” Zahra glanced past him. Behind him sat an empty room with two hammocks and a desk. She took a breath, trying to control the trembling in her voice. “I have come to join with him in celebration of Nebthet and the King. He said he would be here.”
“He would be if he had not abandoned his work and left the temple early around the first hour of Re,” Kamil grumbled.
The news came as a shock to Zahra. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“He did,” Kamil huffed. “If that’s all, I would like to get back to my celebrations.”
“Of course.” She bowed her head. “Have a blessed Atum, wab priest Kamil.”
Kamil shut the door as Zahra turned and faced the night. She exhaled, rubbing her arms. The night air was growing cold, and she had no idea where her father could be.
Zahra tripped down the last step of the stairs, and a rough pair of hands caught her. “T-Thank you,” Zahra stuttered, embarrassed as she found her balance once more. The blood drained from her face as she looked up.
A man stood in front of her, his clothes decorated with embroidery that marked him as a commander. His eyes were sharp, and a thick scar sat on his nose. Zahra’s breath hitched in her throat as he judged her face. She couldn’t recall how, but she knew this man was dangerous.
“Commander.” A medjay came from behind him. “What is it? We must keep looking.”
The commander rolled his eyes. He set her upright and released her. “Careful. There are thieves out tonight.”
Zahra’s mouth went dry as the two medjay passed by her to walk up the stairs to the second floor of the temple housing.
She stumbled toward the nearby road, clutching her eagle necklace.
The crowds were loud and confusing, and she stood in the middle of it all, trying to figure out where to go.
Her eyes landed on a large stable house in the distance.
A group of singing Aurans came from behind her, spurring her forward into the darkness.
Zahra left the festivities behind and traveled toward the stable house. The area was quiet, all of the celebrations for the lunar eclipse by the obelisk or by the houses some distance in front of her.
Zahra opened the door to the stable house. “Patér?”
The horses stood quietly in their stalls, huffing as she ventured further in. “Patér?” He wasn’t there. Zahra sighed, turning to leave, but a thought stopped her. She waited, turning toward the pair of doors on the other side of the stable house.
After several moments, one of the doors creaked open, and a hooded man walked through. The darkness hid his form, and his face was shrouded in shadow.
The man froze. With one smooth motion, he tossed a bag into one of the horse stalls and ran toward her.
Zahra stumbled backward as he thrust a knife in her direction. She gasped as he threw her against the wall, holding the knife to her throat.
“Who are you?” he asked. “I—Poulaki mou?”
Zahra sucked in a breath as her father released his hold on her. His hood fell back, revealing his gray beard and startled brown eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
She smiled in relief. “Patér, I am so happy to have found you.”
“I told you not to come.” He grabbed her arm. “Did you not receive my letter?”
“Of course, I did,” Zahra said, “but you couldn’t expect me to abandon you, especially with no explanation.” She thought of her dream. If this part had come true, what else was true?
Omar stepped away, releasing her arm. “You shouldn’t have come here. It’s dangerous.” He walked toward the stall where he had thrown the bag, opening it. The horse inside whined in discomfort as he grabbed the bag and closed the stall door.
Zahra’s eyes landed on the bag, and she thought of the medjay’s words to her. Thief. “Patér, what is happening? Why did you send that letter? Why are there medjay after you?”
Omar spun around. “There are medjay near here?”
“They’re looking for a thief,” she cried. “Patér, tell me they’re not looking for you.”
Omar turned away. “I did what I had to do, poulaki mou.”
Zahra stepped back in shock. “What has become of you?”
A bright, purple glow came from the bag, and Zahra’s gaze snapped toward the object within. Omar put his hand up, holding the bag away from them both. “Don’t go near it. It is dark magic. It will corrupt you!”
Zahra turned to face him. “But why would you—?”
“I stole it to protect you,” he cried. “Now, you must leave!”
Zahra shook her head. “I will not leave without you! Let us return this to the King or, better yet, the Pharaoh Queen! There’s still a chance for redemption.”
His eyes softened into grief. “There’s no redemption for me.”
Zahra’s chest bubbled with anxiety as he sheathed his knife and walked toward one of the stalls. “Patér, please. If you do this, we will die.”
Omar’s hand paused on the wooden stall. “I am doing this so you can live.”
“I have seen my death!” A sob worked its way into Zahra’s throat, and her lip quivered as she spoke. “If you don’t return this, the Pharaoh Queen will punish us. We will not live to see morning.”
Omar turned away, shaking his head. “No. If you leave now, you will be safe.” He opened the stall door.
“Patér, please!” Zahra grabbed the bag.