Chapter 22
Wings
A jackal stalked a heron on the riverbank, and the ibis roosting on a tree nearby was the only one to notice.
The heron was napping, her neck tucked in on itself, and the ibis could tell she was old from the bedraggled state of her plumage.
The jackal approached her slowly, his belly low to the ground.
Fly away, quick-quick, the ibis’s instincts told him. Be glad it’s the heron and not you.
Then the ibis remembered the net that fell upon him and his brethren while they hunted in the marshes. How different it might have been if another bird had called out a warning!
The jackal stopped, muscles tensing, ready to pounce.
Oh dear, oh dear, the ibis thought, then swooped down toward them, yelping like a puppy.
The jackal and the heron both took notice.
The jackal looked up, hackles rising, and the heron unfolded herself and stood.
The jackal reared back in surprise, for the bird was at least twice as large as a common heron.
Her plumage, which the ibis would have sworn had been dingy and faded, radiated with color—her breast pure white, her back, wings, and head the variegated green-blue of the river itself.
She towered over the jackal, her golden beak long and sharp, and the predator shrank under her imperious gaze.
With a snarl, the jackal turned tail and ran. He’d been looking for an easy meal, not a battle with a giant.
Even after the jackal had gone, the ibis was hesitant to alight. Herons were usually friendly, but this was no typical heron.
The bird eyed him, and let out a deep, guttural sound. Be not afraid, little ibis. I am grateful for your warning. I am old and not as watchful as I once was.
The ibis blinked. The heron’s plumage had faded again. Had he simply imagined its brightness? She no longer looked as formidable.
The ibis fluttered down and landed in front of her. Heron, you are big! he squawked. Very big! Never have I seen your equal!
I am no heron, the bird said, shaking her great head indignantly. I am Bennu. I was here before the sand, before the sky, before the light. It was I who flew over the endless waters, whose call announced the birth of this world.
The ibis crooked his head. He had known other birds with delusions of grandeur—storks, mostly—but none quite like this one.
It has been too long since I hunted, the Bennu bird went on, sinking back to sit. Fending off that creature has taken my strength. Be a dear and get us some fish, would you?
The ibis could not believe the gall of this “Bennu bird.” First, he saves her life, and then she orders him to bring her food?
Still, she was the first friend he’d made since the death of his flock.
Perhaps, at her age, the Bennu had earned the right to make such demands. And besides, the ibis was hungry too.
Fine-fine—a fish, a fish. I’ll do what I can do, the ibis said.
Thank you, the Bennu bird said, and craned her neck to gently touch her golden beak against his black one.
An odd, pleasant warmth flooded the ibis’s body, and he felt happy for the first time in a long, long while. He flew south.
***
The ibis flew toward marshlands he’d seen near a city on the horizon, but when he reached its outskirts, the river was clogged with ships.
Many of the sails sported ram heads painted in black and red, and the ibis wondered what they meant.
Thinking he might have better luck scavenging from people than fishing, the ibis wheeled east, coasting over the tops of the buildings clustered there.
Unlike the white shining city up north, this city seemed to be falling into disrepair—and into bloodshed.
As the ibis drew closer, cries rose from the streets. Below him, people were running this way and that, while swords clashed and carts overturned, spilling food everywhere. The ibis thought to dive down and grab a meal, but when he saw the bodies, he decided against it.
Disturbed by what he saw, the ibis descended to perch on the roof of a large house on a grand estate.
It was quiet, untouched by the violence, and seemed a useful spot for a brief respite.
A small hunched man with a red nose sat at the back of the house on a wide patio, lush with potted flowers and small trees.
He was chewing rhythmically, like cattle do, and staring out into the desert beyond.
Another man came out of the house and approached the smaller one.
“We’ve collected fifty hands so far, Nomarch,” the man said, “And we’ve piled the bodies of the dead in the marketplace for all to see.”
The nomarch snorted. “Only fifty? It’s been hours. Are the king’s reinforcements not enough to handle a bunch of old soldiers and shopkeepers?”
“It’s not that we can’t handle them. We can’t find them. People have gone into hiding. It’s as if they knew we were coming.”
The nomarch sighed. “Ever since Ankhu’s girl put a knife in my spy, that brewer, there has been unrest.” He clucked his tongue. “I should have killed her when I had the chance.”
“Humblest apologies, Nomarch, but it appears the people of Sakesh have a spy of their own.”
The nomarch slammed a fist against the arm of his chair. “I don’t care if they’ve got Sekhmet herself. King Meryamun expects us to deliver—so deliver! Fifty more hands, do you hear? Make it sixty, for good measure!”
The noise startled the ibis, and he launched back into the air. It was time to keep looking for food.
At the southern edge of the city, past blackened fields and grazing zebu, the ibis spied another large building, crumbling but still grand.
An older woman was running toward it with half a dozen others, glancing over her shoulder as she went.
“Faster, girls, faster now. Don’t wait for me,” said the woman, panting and red-faced.
The younger girls looked at her with concern. “We won’t leave you, Mamet Mut,” one of them said.
“Ach, I’m too old for rebellion,” Mamet Mut grunted, but it was clear even to the ibis that she didn’t mean it. She was, in fact, the perfect age for rebellion—the age when a woman no longer cares what anyone thinks and does exactly as she wishes.
The girls each looped an arm around the older woman’s and helped her along the road, a small loaf of bread and two fish slipping out of one of their packs as they went.
What luck, yes-yes! The ibis descended and grabbed the fish in his beak. He was about to take off, back to the ailing Bennu bird, when a large man caught his attention.
“More, Mamet?” asked the man with remarkably large ears. “I’m not sure how many others we can fit in the underground tunnels.” He quickly directed the group inside the building, where it appeared other men were waiting to greet them.
Mamet Mut stopped, hands on hips, trying to catch her breath. “They had nowhere else to go, Menk. But I think that’s the last of them. Everyone else has either found their own hiding places or…”
The ibis thought of the piled bodies.
“Thank goodness Omari’s message got to us when it did. If we hadn’t had advance notice, we never would have been able to save so many,” Mamet Mut said.
Menk turned to the sturdy old woman. He spoke quietly, “That wasn’t all his note said.”
Mamet Mut’s eyes widened. “What else?”
“Omari says that our people, Ankhu included, will be sacrificed in a cursing ritual that King Meryamun intends to hold at the Thonis fortress in a few days’ time. The pharaoh intends to use heka to curse all his enemies—including us.”
“Blood magic,” Mamet Mut breathed.
Menk nodded, his expression grim.
“Did Omari say anything else?”
“That we should marshal our army and prepare for war.”
The old woman’s brow furrowed. “Nothing about a rescue mission? What about Rae? What are her orders?”
“He didn’t mention Raetawy. I thought it odd, but then again, they are quite close, so perhaps her word and his are the same.
” Menk looked troubled. “Though it didn’t sound like her.
She wouldn’t give up on her father, not without a fight.
” He tugged on one of his oversized ears.
“I don’t know what to do. I’m used to following orders, not giving them. ”
“Leaders are made, not born, Menk,” Mamet Mut told him. “You said so yourself. We chose Raetawy to lead us because she has the heart of a lion that always points to justice. All we need to ask ourselves is: What would she do?”
The two fell to silence.
The ibis’s stomach growled. He took to the air, having satisfied his curiosity but not his appetite. With the two fish clamped in his beak, he wheeled back toward his aging companion.
***
The Bennu bird swallowed her fish in one gulp, then set to preening herself.
The ibis took his time with his meal. Despite his great hunger, he’d given her the larger fish. If she noticed his generosity, she didn’t mention it.
Once she was done arranging her feathers, the Bennu bird stood.
Ah, she said, clacking her beak. I feel much better now. So, tell me, where is your flock, sacred one?
No one had ever called him that before. The ibis stood a little taller.
Dead, he replied. Taken for tokens by the men of this land.
The Bennu bird stretched her great blue wings, which were so large that they blotted out the sun.
Perhaps our meeting was not by chance after all.
I am old and have little time left on this earth before I must sing another song.
I know not what will happen, only that there will be a great tumult, and that I must announce the end of this world and the beginning of another.
The ibis had never met such a philosophical bird. Still, her words were interesting and seemed important.
I see, I see, he said encouragingly.
It would be nice to have company, the Bennu added, glancing at him with those bright, yellow eyes.
The ibis considered this. He, too, was tired of being alone.
The ibis said, Yes-yes, I will come. But where are we going?
North. To the shining city. We must be there to witness what is coming.
The ibis shivered. What would it be like to go back to where his troubles began? What would it be like to go home?
Come, come, the Bennu bird said. Be not afraid. You wear the face of a god.
A god? The ibis had no reference for the word.
Men can be terrible creatures, but in their struggles for meaning, they sometimes stumble upon truth.
The truth is, there is magic in you, little ibis.
There is a reason you survived, a reason you met me, a reason we must embark on this journey together.
There is a reason for everything, if only you look hard enough.
The ibis did not understand all the Bennu’s words, but he liked the sound of them. They made him feel brave.
In a flurry of black and white feathers, they launched themselves into the sky and flew side by side, following the river’s current.