Chapter 11
Rae
Rae was still brooding over Tam’s party invitation when she reached the Temple of Amun’s towering gate. Focus! she told herself. She was about to deliver Neff’s message to Prince Bakenamun, and if he was anything like his wicked brother, she needed to keep her wits about her.
She squinted up at the temple. Like everything else in Thonis, it was so magnificent that it made Sakesh’s Temple of Ra look like a hovel in comparison. The Low Khetaran priests kept up their duties as well as they could, but their numbers were small and their offerings meager at best.
Not that Ra’s House had always been that way. Before the Great War, it had been an awesome place, full of light and bedecked in gold, as befitted the falcon-headed sun god. At least, that’s what Rae’s father always told her.
Father.
It was torture, being so close to him, yet not knowing for certain that he was alive and unharmed.
I’ll see him tonight, she thought with hope in her heart. And then I’ll find a way to get him home. Hovel or not, the Temple of Ra was a holy place, and she would make sure her father saw it again.
Squaring her shoulders, Rae approached the guard standing at the temple gate.
“Greetings to you,” she said with a stiff bow, “I have come with a message for Prince Bakenamun.”
“I’ll take it,” the guard said, and offered her an open palm.
“I’ve been ordered to deliver it directly to him.”
“By whom?”
“That isn’t your concern.” Rae took a step closer to the man so that they were eye to eye. “Now, are you going to inform the prince of my arrival, or do we have a problem?”
For one thrilling instant, Rae thought the guard might put up a fight—but he was either too lazy or too gutless, because he huffed in annoyance and strode away. Rae was almost disappointed. It felt good to throw her weight around again. That, at least, was something she excelled at.
A few minutes passed before the guard returned with a very small, very strange man at his side. This is the prince? Rae thought in confusion. He barely came up to her shoulders.
Prince Bakenamun peered up at Rae over a beakish nose, his unruly nest of black hair making him appear as if he’d just rolled out of bed. He looked nothing like the king. It was a wonder they were brothers at all.
The prince dismissed the guard, who plodded to the other side of the gate, clearly put out over the entire situation.
“You’re Neff’s girl, are you?” Bakenamun asked.
“I am.”
He studied Rae with such intensity that it made her uncomfortable. He seemed to take in every detail of her face and body—but not in a lewd way. From the way he looked at her, she may as well have been an interesting plant.
Only when his examination was complete did the prince speak further. “Fascinating,” he said simply. He cleared his throat. “You have a message for me?”
Rae handed him the sealed scroll.
“Very good,” the prince said, tucking it into his tunic.
“I have something for you to take back to Nefermaat as well.” From his belt, he pulled a black leather cylinder, which Rae assumed must contain another scroll.
She was about to stick it in her belt when the carnelian amulet on its lid gave her pause.
It was a red lion, not unlike her own amulet.
The symbol of Sekhmet.
Sekhmet was a fierce protector, but she was also famously brutal. According to the doctrine, the lion-headed goddess had once nearly destroyed the entire world in a fit of rage. She was vengeance personified. She was the Lady of Slaughter.
Why would young Nefermaat need a scroll such as this? Rae wondered. And why would the prince give it to her? Are the two of them colluding on a secret plan of their own? That would explain why Neff questioned my allegiance before sending me on this errand.
“Do you miss it?”
The prince’s question snapped Rae out of her reverie. “Miss what?”
“Working on the farm.”
Rae went rigid. How could he possibly know?
“The tan lines, the state of your hands—everything about you gives it away,” the prince said casually, reading her thoughts.
“I’m curious what brings a young woman of your obvious skills and unusual stature to a position serving in the palace.
Pardon me for saying so, but you seem ill-suited for the job. ”
Rae considered her next words carefully. Like Nefermaat, the prince had an uncanny ability to see to the truth of things. “I did it for my father,” she said.
Her answer seemed to sting the prince. “I see.”
Does he mourn his own father? Rae wondered. She didn’t like to think of Amunmose as a real person with grieving children, and yet Bakenamun’s pained expression forced her to.
The prince held up Neff’s scroll. “Thank you for this,” he said thickly, and turned away.
Rae hurried back to the palace, chilled by the encounter. One more trip to see the prince, and he’d have her whole life story figured out! She’d have to do her best to avoid him.
She touched the Sekhmet scroll at her belt, wishing it was the sekhem scepter instead.
Ever since she recovered it from the House of the Medjay, the weapon had become part of her, and she felt naked without it.
She knew it was safe at their camp by the river, but her fingers itched to grip something real, something more than all the secrets and intrigue she found herself handling in the palace.
A force was building inside her, like water behind a dam, demanding release.
Not yet, she told herself. Soon, but not yet.
***
After delivering the scroll to Nefermaat’s chambers and assisting with the midday meal, Rae searched the palace for the entrance to the subterranean level while delivering clean linens.
It was a massive building, so it took her the better part of the afternoon to locate the proper stairwell.
As she walked by, she noted the single guard, and a shadowy corner behind a column where she could conceal herself to keep watch.
When the guard inevitably left his post to make water that night, she’d make her move.
The rest of the day flew by. Between all her household duties and dealings with the bad-tempered cook, Rae barely had a moment to sit down. I wish I were back in the fields, she thought wearily. At least the zebu didn’t complain about the quality of her work.
That evening in the maidservants’ chambers, she noted how many women—Tamerit included—didn’t return from their duties. How seven beds remained empty, even after thick darkness fell.
Some of the other women whispered about it, but none of them whispered to her. Unlike Tam, she hadn’t made any friends. Trying not to think about what might be happening at the party, Rae lay down, closed her eyes, and pretended to sleep.
She waited until every last candle had been blown out, until the sounds of shifting bodies had mellowed to soft, rhythmic snores.
Then, she rose on silent feet, changed her clothes, and slipped into the dim corridor and through the quiet palace halls.
She’d spent the evening planning her route, setting out the loose black dress she’d acquired so that she’d be less visible, deciding how she’d deal with the guard if he refused to leave his post. She was ready for anything.
Rae reached the end of a corridor. To the right was the path to the stairwell leading underground. To the left was the king’s chambers.
She paused, listening as the lilt of music, peals of laughter, and feathery, hair-raising cries of pleasure floated into her ears like an intoxicating breeze.
Rae’s carefully laid plans suddenly vanished from her mind. All she could think of were those sounds, and whether Tamerit was the one making them.
The voice of reason pleaded with her. Father is waiting for you!
The roar of the lion was louder.
She turned left.
***
Rae intercepted one of the seven missing servants on her way to the king’s chambers. The young woman staggered, carrying a blue long-necked wine jar painted with lotus flowers.
“Why don’t I take that?” Rae said, reaching out for the jar. “You look like you’ve had enough for one night.”
“Hey!” The servant wrenched the jar to her chest. “I didn’t see you at the party. Were you even invited? Only the king’s favorite girls were invited.” She hiccupped.
“Yes, well, he saved the best for last,” Rae said.
“Maybe the biggest…”
Rae drew herself up to her full height. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”
The servant shrunk under Rae’s imposing gaze and released the jar. “I’ll go to bed.”
“Good idea.”
When the servant had scurried off, Rae hefted the jar into her hands, took a deep breath, and strode to the pharaoh’s quarters.
The two guards at the door gave her a strange look when she appeared, but when they saw her carrying the blue lotus jar, they waved her in.
The air inside the chamber was so thick with incense it made Rae’s eyes water. She glanced around the semidarkness, trying to get her bearings. The room was immense and loud and filled with flickering firelight.
And hot. By the gods, it’s hot.
Then she saw—really saw—what was going on.
A sea of hands, glistening skin, open mouths, dark hair tossed to the beat of drums. Women dressed in transparent linen shifts and revealing bead-net dresses and almost nothing at all, each holding blue cups in the shape of lotus flowers.
Men in thigh-length schentis, chests heaving with barely controlled breath, lotus cups gripped in their hands, too, rested on couches and chairs and mats on the floor, their eyes dark with intensity.
Couples danced to the music, their bodies so entangled that they appeared as a single insatiable creature.
Rae’s head swam. A rush of heat bloomed in her belly, making her feel simultaneously embarrassed and exhilarated. She stood rigid, the wine jar held in front of her like a shield, her mouth dry, unable to move, unable to tear her gaze from the scene.
Then she saw the pharaoh.