Chapter 5 The Hidden Library
The Hidden Library
Zahra led the way through the city, taking great care to avoid the marketplace and any major streets where the Great Overseer could be.
Namir took the lead once they neared Bahiti’s estate, and Zahra slowed her pace as Namir walked up to a tall, brown stallion.
The horse wore an exquisite fabric embroidered with images of Re.
“Greetings, Victory.” Namir patted the horse’s snout, and the horse replied with a soft huff. “Do you think you could carry two of us back to Inebu-hedj?”
Zahra paused. “Victory?”
“Victory of Henen-nesut,” Namir corrected, his hood falling back and revealing his black curls. “He is Victory only to me.”
Zahra nodded in understanding, unsurprised that even the King’s horse had a title.
Namir hopped onto Victory’s back. “Are you coming?”
Zahra glanced at the horse’s back. “Where will I sit?”
“Behind me.” Namir gestured with his head. “I would borrow a medjay to escort you there, but I would rather not catch my uncle’s eye.”
Zahra stepped closer to Victory, clutching the sides of her dress. The stallion was massive compared to Zahra. There were no rocks or other points of leverage for Zahra to use. Getting on Victory at all seemed impossible.
Namir cleared his throat. “I know it may seem as if we have endless time for you to use. However—”
“Yes, yes,” Zahra interrupted. “I am going.”
Namir replied with a glare, and Zahra resisted the urge to return the look.
She took in a deep breath, stepping back and readying herself to jump.
With as mighty a leap as she could manage, Zahra launched herself upon the horse’s rear.
Victory neighed uncomfortably in response, moving forward.
Zahra held onto the rope securing the fabric seat to the horse, her legs dangling as she struggled not to fall off.
Namir sighed and grabbed her waist, hoisting her onto the horse. Zahra let out a cry of surprise, moving her hands further up on the rope. With some careful maneuvering, she found herself in a sitting position.
Namir regarded her with annoyance once she had situated herself. “Are you on?”
Zahra looked about herself, nodding. “I think so.”
Namir prompted Victory forward, and Zahra let out a squeal. Her arms flew forward, lacing themselves around Namir’s midsection. He flinched at her touch, but he did not pull away as she buried her face in the fabric of his cloak.
Zahra’s curls flew in a flurry of tangles as she held tight to the King.
She had ridden a horse when she was young, but her father had gone no faster than a trot.
On Namir’s steed, the world raced by in a blur.
She could perceive no more than the vague shapes of the people and animals of Illahun, and in a few moments they—and the city itself—disappeared from view.
Wonder filled Zahra’s eyes, and she tore away from Namir’s back to look. The roads of Aur were beautiful. She had traveled beyond Illahun many times, of course, but she was always too busy tending to Bahiti’s daughters to have the chance to see its beauty.
Tall trees of all kinds sprouted from the ground, feasting on underground aquifers and the fertile soil brought by the Iteru.
In the cities they passed, Aurans and Ionians alike prepared for the celebrations that evening by hanging beautiful decorations and making delicious treats.
The sand illuminated the kingdom with gold, making even the barren parts of Aur equal in beauty to the mineral-rich waters of the Iteru.
It was not for some time that Inebu-hedj finally came into view. Victory slowed near a large building downhill from the pr-aa and the temple. Tall pillars covered in symbols and art marked the entrance, and atop the roof sat a large statue of a regally dressed man with the head of an ibis.
Zahra knew this was a depiction of Djehuty, the netjer who gifted writing and language to the Aurans.
In her culture, she knew him by the name of Hermes, though he had winged shoes rather than the head of a bird.
Among Aurans and Ionians alike, he was worshiped heavily by scribes, scholars, and priests that dealt with sacred texts.
Namir dismounted, leaving Zahra to balance on the horse alone.
A young servant boy approached, taking the reins and Namir’s cloak in one hand, and extending his other hand to Zahra.
She hesitated to accept his help, but Namir was already walking away.
She slipped off the horse, thanking the boy as she ran to catch up with Namir.
Namir was already halfway up the steps to the entrance when Zahra arrived at his side. He regarded her with nothing more than a passing glance. “Have you ever been here before?”
“No, my King.” Most people were not allowed in the Pharaohs’ library, especially Ionians who were in debt.
Two armed medjay greeted them in front of a pair of large stone doors.
Namir nodded to the medjay. “Good Khepri to you both.”
The medjay bowed their heads in response and placed their right hands over their chests. “My King.”
Namir walked through, and Zahra scurried after him, keeping her head low.
The walls of the Pharaohs’ library were tall and grand.
Statues of the ibis-headed netjer stood in various places.
Wooden shelves lined the walls, holding thousands of papyrus scrolls.
Farther in the library stood more shelves, which occupied much of the floor space.
Between some of the shelves sat wooden tables with small crowds of priests and scholars standing around them.
There were no Ionians among them. She envied the freedom of the men and women that stood around her.
Her father would have loved to work in such a place and have a job dedicated to learning.
Namir climbed two sets of stairs before he allowed Zahra a moment to breathe. He paused before several stone shelves of old papyrus scrolls and began to sort through them.
“What do you hope to find here?” Zahra asked, coming to his side.
“A scroll,” Namir deadpanned.
Zahra rolled her eyes. She plucked a scroll from the shelf. “I found one.” She unrolled it and searched its contents. The scroll held a combination of paintings and Aur’s script, Hieratic, detailing the beginnings of farming colonies in Aur.
“You will not find anything of interest.”
Zahra eyed him before returning the scroll to the shelf. “Then how am I supposed to help?”
Namir threw over a few scrolls. She outstretched her arms with surprise, barely catching the scrolls in her arms. Namir tossed a few more scrolls onto the pile and ran his hand along the back of the shelf. Zahra balanced the scrolls carefully and watched Namir. What was he doing?
Zahra sighed and turned around. Surely, he did not only want her help so that she could hold scrolls. For a King, his actions were confusing and lacked thoughtful planning. There had to be something she could do besides substitute for a cart.
Her gaze drifted to a window that sat five feet above their heads. The sun was high in the sky. It was almost four Khepri. Their ride to Inebu-hedj had taken much of the morning, and she had less than two hours before her opportunity to stop her father slipped away.
Zahra turned her head. “My King—”
A pair of stunning brown eyes met Zahra’s, and she stumbled backward, taken aback by the woman before her. Her elbow collided with the bookcase, sending more than a dozen scrolls—including the ones in her arms—crashing to the floor.
Zahra fell to her knees, stuttering as she spoke and grasping for the fallen scrolls. “I—I apologize.”
To her surprise, the woman also bent down. “There is no need for that. Here, let me help.”
Zahra froze, astonished, as the beautiful young woman dressed in fine orange linen and decorated with gold and jewels knelt with her.
The woman was clearly a high-ranking noble, and yet her eyes were kind as she carefully picked up the scrolls.
There was something familiar about her black eyes and strong jawline.
“Nubia?” Namir looked down at the two girls with a furrowed brow. “What are you doing here?”
Nubia grinned. “Greetings to you as well, brother.”
Brother? Zahra stood clumsily, dropping a scroll or two as she bowed. “My Princess, I apologize.”
“Vizier,” Namir corrected.
Nubia stood. “It is alright. Not everyone knows that I am related to the Pharaoh Queen.” She raised an eyebrow at Namir. “You are unhappy to see me.”
“I am never unhappy to see you.” Namir took the scrolls from Nubia’s arms. “I simply thought you would be elsewhere.”
“I had time in between tasks to relax.”
Namir chuckled. “Then I would have expected you to be in the gardens.”
“The gardens are your place, not mine.” She elbowed Namir teasingly and turned to Zahra, who was still awkwardly doubled over. She tapped Zahra’s shoulder. “Who might this be?”
Zahra straightened and opened her mouth to speak. Namir answered for her. “A servant I have borrowed for the day.”
“Oh?” Nubia asked curiously. “For what purpose?”
“To carry my scrolls.” He nudged one of the scrolls on the floor with his foot. “Servant, you dropped one.”
Zahra bit back a retort. It had not even been a day, and her fuse with the King was already running short. She kept a practiced smile on her face as she squatted to retrieve the lost scroll.
“Oh, Menes, do not torture the poor girl.”
The name surprised Zahra. She had not thought much of it, but now she recalled that the King’s name was Menes. Why, then, did he introduce himself as Namir?
Nubia picked up the rest of the scrolls and returned them to the shelf. Zahra blinked in amazement. She stood and bowed. “Thank you for your help, Vizier.”
“It is my pleasure. I love to see Ionians. I hardly see your people around the capital anymore.” She said it with sorry eyes, as if she knew the reason but could do nothing about it.
“What are you looking for among these shelves?” Namir wondered.