Chapter 3 The Commander
The Commander
Zahra pulled on her dress as her roommates got ready for the day around her.
They spoke quietly about their plans for the night of the eclipse.
Zahra’s hands hesitated on the areas of her body where she had felt the medjay’s blade on her skin.
She suppressed a shudder as she pulled her shawl over her head.
Memories of last night flew through her mind, and she kept thinking back to the man with the star-filled eyes.
How did he know that the day would repeat?
Why could she remember last night when no one else could?
She had asked Jala and a few of her roommates, but everyone had told her the same thing: What she remembered was only a dream.
If it had not been for him, she would have agreed with them.
Even now, her memories of last night were faded and gray, except for the few moments she was by his side.
If the man knew that the day was repeating, then he must remember as well. She did not know who he was, but she would find out. He would be at the Feast again tonight, and she would seek the answers to her questions.
Zahra’s roommates filed out of the room for their morning worship.
She fetched a small piece of blue fabric and a string of beads from her chest and followed them.
The other servants flocked together on one side of the downstairs, repeating chants and wishing Re a safe journey across the sky.
In Auran culture, Re had many names. In their morning prayers, they called him “Khepri.” Every hour after sunrise, the obelisk would ring, and Khepri would rest a moment from his journey.
At the sun’s highest point in the sky, his name changed to “Re.” When the sun set, he was called “Atum” until sunrise, when the sun netjer was born again as “Khepri.”
Zahra sat in a patch of light coming from one of the few windows in the basement. She took the blue fabric in her hands and set it on the ground. It was covered in embroidered designs of the crescent moon, torches, and a chariot pulled by a beautiful mare.
Zahra removed her necklace, placing it, along with the beads, in the center of the fabric. She bundled them together in her hands, bowed her head, and began to pray.
Since Ionia was conquered and her mother had died, Zahra had worshiped without her father. There were once other Ionians under Bahiti’s care, but they had all paid off their debts and left. For three years, Zahra had worshiped alone.
Zahra prayed in Ionic, a tongue that most Aurans couldn’t understand and some couldn’t bear to hear.
She called upon her theos—what her people called their gods—and asked for deliverance from the sorrows the day would bring.
Even as a child, Zahra found Selene would answer in unexpected ways.
She knew the eagle’s presence last night was not a mistake.
It had guided her to safety, though she had still managed to run into danger.
Zahra concluded her prayer and then looked through the window. She hoped the eagle would fly past with its great wings, but the pink sky was empty.
Zahra sighed, standing. There were chores to be done before she would be permitted to eat, and she would need her strength to face what the day would bring.
After putting away her things and returning her necklace to her neck, Zahra collected the dirty laundry with a few other servants.
The rising sun cast colors of pink and blue across the sky, illuminating the girls’ way as they walked to a small offshoot of the great river downhill from their master’s home.
The dewy grass tickled her toes, and she slipped her feet into the cold water.
The small river was not deep, just reaching her knees.
Zahra set to work, her mind occupied as the others chatted excitedly about the day ahead.
If it were a usual morning, Zahra would have participated in the conversation, but such things were in the back of her mind now.
She had to find that man, but she also had to find out why her father was stealing. He had stolen it to protect her. Protect her from what?
Zahra peered past the dress she was washing.
Her reflection was distorted in the cloudy river, but she could clearly see her amber eyes.
Her eyes narrowed as her reflection changed—her skin became dark like the night, and her curls became braids with colorful beads, until she was looking at another girl completely.
As clearly as if it were her own reflection, Zahra saw a young Auran woman with a dress design that Zahra had never seen before.
Zahra’s hand slipped from the dress she was washing, and her fingers caressed the reflection of the woman’s face.
The woman’s brown eyes were filled with a grief and fear similar to her own.
“Zahra. Zahra!”
Zahra blinked and spun toward the voice. She slipped on a stone, and her foot went out from under her, sending her into the river.
The others snickered as she lifted herself out of the water and put the dress with the other clothes in her basket. Jala rolled her eyes at the other girls. “Are you finished? We wish to return.”
Zahra studied their baskets. Though they had only just started, the others had already washed their loads, while Zahra’s sat half finished. A piece of papyrus stuck out from between Jala’s hand and the basket. So she had found the invitation in Bahiti’s laundry.
Zahra glanced at her soaked dress and sighed. “I will catch up once I am finished.”
The girls started walking away, but Jala remained a few moments longer, as if debating whether to give Zahra the invitation then and there. Instead, she followed after the others.
Zahra glanced at the water with apprehension before grabbing the dress. After she had washed all of the clothes, she went to the back of the house to lay them on wooden bars to dry. The servants’ area was eerily quiet when she went inside, a stark contrast to yesterday’s hustle and bustle.
Zahra’s wet sandals squeaked as she found everyone by the stairs to the main house. They were all listening intently, whispering to and hushing one another.
Zahra came by Jala’s side. “What is happening?”
Jala turned to Zahra with excitement. “There’s a medjay upstairs! We think he is going to ask to marry one of the girls.”
Zahra’s eyes went wide. No medjay came yesterday. At least, she did not think one did. She racked her brain for an answer, but the memories were difficult to grasp. Doubt swirled in her chest. Was any of last night real?
The whispering between the servants increased, and many glanced at Zahra. Her chest tightened at their wary faces. Why were they looking at her?
The servants scrambled at the sound of someone approaching the stairs.
Zahra was shoved off balance, and she fell to the floor.
Bahiti emerged from the stairwell, her eyes narrowed on the faces of the servants standing awkwardly around the room.
Her gaze landed on Zahra, and her nose turned up in disgust. “What are you doing on the floor? Why are you wet?”
Zahra’s chest tightened as she got to her feet. “I was about to change, Mistress.”
“Change quickly, then,” Bahiti ordered. “He wishes to speak to you.”
Zahra froze as Bahiti turned around. “Who?”
Bahiti glanced over her shoulder. “The commander.”
Zahra’s face paled as Bahiti went upstairs. The face of the commander from last night—the one who had killed her—came into her mind.
Zahra ducked into her room and began digging through her chest, pulling out clothes to change into and the bag she was going to use to carry Eshe’s dress.
The commander could only be there because of her father.
He must have also remembered the day had come before, and he was here to arrest her before she could escape.
Zahra changed quickly, pulling on a new dress and shawl and tossing her savings into the bag. She had to find her father and warn him. The commander would see fit to kill them both.
Bahiti’s voice came from outside. “Sobki!”
Panic filled Zahra’s chest. She threw her bag into her hammock, hoping Bahiti wouldn’t hear the clink of the coins as the bag rolled to a stop.
Bahiti threw open the door. “What are you doing? I told you to come upstairs!”
“I will be up in a moment,” Zahra promised.
Bahiti grabbed her arm, her eyes narrowed. “You will come now.”
Zahra reached for her hammock as Bahiti dragged her out of the door. “Wait—”
Bahiti pulled her close once they were in the stairwell, whispering harshly to her, “Stand up. I do not want this to be how the commander views my servants. Wait a few moments before you follow me into the room.” She released Zahra’s arm, leading the way up the stairs.
Zahra straightened her back and followed Bahiti, her fists clenched at her sides. She eyed the front door as Bahiti turned toward the eating room to the left. If she ran, how far would she make it before the commander grabbed her? Surely he had brought reinforcements.
Zahra sucked in a deep breath and walked toward the eating room. No. She would have to face him herself.
Laughter came from the room as Zahra approached. Femi’s voice rang through the room. “Commander! I never thought your line of work would bring about such funny stories!”
A foreign voice chuckled. “My work is never without its moments of laughter.”
Zahra lingered outside of the room as she considered the voice. This couldn’t be the same man who had killed her the night before. His voice was lighter, bolder, and younger. Then who had come for her?
The commander spoke again. “Thank you for hosting me while I wait, Bahiti. This breakfast is delightful.”
“We are delighted to have you here,” Bahiti replied. “My servant should be here soon. She was running errands for me and got a little lost on her way back.”
“I am not worried,” he said. “Tell me—”