Chapter 8 The Mysterious Papyri #2
Zahra hesitated in the doorway. “Patér, it’s me.”
He lowered his blade, pausing some feet from her. “Poulaki-mou? I thought you had left.”
“Of course not.” She closed the door behind her and held up the papyri in the moonlight. “What are these, Patér? Why were they in your hammock?”
His hood fell back as he took them from her. “These were in my hammock?”
“Yes.” She walked past Omar, opening one of the horse stalls.
Omar turned and lunged for her. “No!”
The Thoth fell out of the bag onto a pile of hay.
Once again, a low hum filled the space. Zahra stepped away from it, her chest tightening as she remembered when she had touched it the night before.
She pointed at it, turning to Omar. “Do you know what you have done, Patér? They will kill you. They will kill us both!”
Desperation filled his features. “I took it to protect you.”
“Lies!” She pointed to the papyri in his hands. “You have been planning to leave me and your debt with Darius. You abandoned me, telling me to go into the desert to face unknown dangers so that you could be free!”
“I would never leave you.” He glanced between her and the papyri. “Yes, I took it, but I have never seen these before.”
Zahra hissed through her teeth. “What?”
Omar shuffled the papyri in his hands. “I have studied this language, but I don’t understand most of these glyphs.
I don’t know what this artifact does, but it reeks of an unknown magic.
” He brought the medjay rotations to the top of the pile.
“And these—I know the rotations of the medjay from working at the temple for years. I have no need for them.”
Zahra stepped back, her mind foggy. “You stole it.”
Omar’s gaze dropped to the floor.
Tears sprang to her eyes. “Why?”
Omar met her gaze, struggling for words. “I had to.”
“Why? Is someone making you do this? Are you being threatened?”
There was a spark in his eye, and he opened his mouth. “I…”
The sound of horses sounded from up the hill. Omar cursed and stepped back. “They’re here.”
Zahra stepped forward. “Patér, please, you must tell me now. Who—”
“Go to Rhakotis. I will distract them.”
“Patér!” Zahra cried as he returned the Thoth to the bag and got on a horse. “Patér, no!”
The voices of the medjay came from outside.
Omar readied himself. “May Re protect you.”
Zahra ducked to the side as Omar and the horse charged forward, breaking down the stable house doors. The medjay shouted and chased after him. Zahra sat in the darkness, waiting for them to leave, before she ran out of the stable house.
The obelisk chimed five times as she returned to the pr-aa, her head swimming with confusion. Someone was making her father steal the Thoth. Who? For what purpose?
The ramifications of the Thoth falling into the wrong hands flooded her mind.
At the very least, whoever had placed those papyri in her father’s bed knew of the Thoth’s importance to the Pharaoh Queen.
They had access to ancient papyri with images of the Thoth.
What more did they know, and why would they have her father of all people steal it?
As Zahra wandered the grounds of the pr-aa, she found maidens lounging in and outside of the building. As she passed, there were whispers of disappointment that the King had not been seen at all. He was still at the front, then. Was Ramses on the hunt for her?
For a moment, she thought of telling the King the truth. If what she suspected was true, ending this day would only result in Aur’s most secret treasure being stolen.
Zahra pushed the thought aside with a shake of her head. He couldn’t be trusted. She needed more information from her father, and she couldn’t get that information until tomorrow night. Her next goal was to find Ramses and explain her absence. Hopefully, Ramses and Namir would believe her.
Zahra’s gaze caught hold of a maiden in the distance. Outside of the crowd and near the path to the chariots walked a young Auran maiden. She looked back at the pr-aa before turning away from the festivities entirely. Could it be—?
Zahra picked up her pace, following the maiden. “My lady, wait!”
The girl spun toward her, and Zahra came to a fast stop. Before her stood Fukayna’s daughter, the young Eshe. She wore a tawny gown instead of the dress Zahra had made for her. Her braids were tied neatly back, letting the light from the lamps in the pr-aa reflect off her brown eyes.
Zahra realized in horror that she had forgotten to give the dress to Fukayna that morning. She had thought Eshe wouldn’t come to the Feast, but here she was.
Eshe frowned at Zahra, her eyes red and puffy. “What is it? Who are you?”
Zahra remembered herself and bowed. “I apologize. I thought you were someone else.”
It would do no good to remind Eshe that she was the seamstress commissioned to create a dress that never arrived.
She looked through her curls. “I must say, however, that you look beautiful tonight.”
“Oh.” Eshe held her hands in front of her, her fingers a tangled mess. “Thank you.”
Zahra rose. “If I may ask, were you leaving the Feast for the night?”
Eshe turned away. “Yes. I do not believe the King will choose me.”
“He may.” Had the King’s bride been right under her nose all this time?
“He will not,” Eshe responded, her eyes determined. She opened her mouth to say more, but she hesitated. She rubbed her arms. “I simply want to go home.”
“What is going on here?”
Two medjay approached. One was far closer than the other and held an oil lamp. He scrutinized Zahra’s bruised eye and turned his attention to Eshe. “Is she bothering you?”
Eshe shook her head. “No, she was complimenting my dress.”
The medjay regarded Zahra with an uncertain expression before motioning toward Eshe. “I wish to speak with her. You may go.”
Eshe hesitated, her eyes lingering on Zahra’s face. She nodded after a moment and walked away.
The medjay turned to Zahra, his hand on his khopesh. “Why are you not at the celebrations with the others?”
Others. The way he said it made her furious. The assumption that she wasn’t there to attend the Feast—even though she had been invited—irritated her.
“I am here with my master’s daughters. I was simply complimenting the young lady’s dress.” Zahra swallowed. “Nothing more.”
The medjay considered her response. His companion stood several feet away, observing the interaction with sharp eyes. Finally, he gestured for her to leave. “You may be on your way. Remain with your master for the rest of the night, please. And try not to pester any other guests.”
Zahra smiled and bowed. “Thank you, sir. Have a blessed Atum.” She walked away as the two medjay began talking. A third medjay came running down the hill. The three conversed, and the medjay that had dismissed her called out to her.
Zahra continued walking, pretending not to hear.
“Stop,” the medjay ordered.
Zahra bolted. The festivities disappeared behind her as she ran into the village below the pr-aa.
The homes were well-built and the streets were clean.
Aurans and the occasional Ionian shouted at her, some even cursing as she shoved past them.
As she continued down the hill, the houses became older, and the streets were littered with rotten food and rats.
The medjay were not far behind, and the people panicked as they rushed past.
Zahra pivoted on the sole of her foot and turned down an alleyway.
A small, dirty creek appeared between the buildings.
She flattened herself against a wall. The medjay came down the alley, and Zahra’s heart pounded.
Namir’s promise was far from her mind. In that moment, all she could think of was their blades and the promise of death on her head.
She would be caught and killed. She did not want to die again.
“You.” An Auran man with greasy curls and mud-soaked feet stood a few feet from her. He gestured with his head. “This way.”
Zahra did not ask questions. She ran past him and spotted a crevice between two buildings. Her small frame fit in the space. She pushed herself deeper into it until the closeness of the walls prevented her from going any further.
The man glanced at her through the crack, his face masked in shadow. After a moment, he walked away. The medjay came to a stop by the creek. “You there! Did you see an Ionian woman run this way?”
Zahra sent a silent prayer to Selene, wishing she could see the moon from her hiding spot. She needed comfort in this moment, even if it was certain she would die.
The man’s response surprised her. “No, sir, it’s only me here.”
Zahra stood still as the medjay ran past her. After several minutes, the man entered her view and motioned her out. “They’re gone.”
Zahra squeezed out of the small space, heaving as she allowed herself to breathe. “Thank you.”
The man bent over, picking up a bottle from the ground.
He swirled the contents and leaned against the wall.
A small piece of fraying fabric sat beneath him, covered with sand and what Zahra hoped was beer.
A rancid smell came from him, and she turned to walk away, but he spoke. “What were they after you for?”
Zahra turned to him and rubbed her arms, glancing around. “They thought I stole something.”
He took a big swig of the bottle. The beer trickled down his lips, soaking his sweat-stained shirt. Zahra’s nose wrinkled in disgust, and she took a hesitant step back, her chest tight with apprehension.
His voice came again. “And you did not?”
Zahra paused her movements. Her instincts told her to leave, but this man had saved her life. The least she could do was answer his questions. “Did not what?”
The man’s curls fell in front of his eyes as he focused on the liquid in the bottle. “Steal something?”
“Of course not.” She shook her head. “I would never do such a thing.”
“Why were you running?”
Zahra swallowed. “What do you mean?”
He took another sip of the bottle and sputtered out a response. “If you were innocent, why did you run?”