Chapter 28
Rae
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
Rae glanced at Tam, who walked beside her as they approached the fortress.
Neff, Princess Sitamun, and Queen Bintanath were at the head of the procession, held aloft on palanquins carried by male servants.
Select courtiers and attendants followed on foot, carrying baskets of offerings.
A tall, broad-chested Tashan that Rae recognized from the king’s party, Prince Harsi, walked with them too, though he was notably flanked by half a dozen guards.
“What is it?” Rae asked, distracted. The fortress, located along the riverbank slightly north of Thonis, was a massive structure of towering stone ramparts topped with battlements and wide bastions built at intervals all around it.
Rae craned her neck to count the guards stationed atop the high walls.
Are there more men than we estimated? she wondered.
Her confidence flickered like a flame in a sudden breeze.
The sight of the fortress, so much larger and more imposing than it had been in her imagination, sent a shiver of dread down her spine. Did we plan for the right contingencies? Is this going to work? She swallowed, her throat parched from the long walk in the hot sun.
“Rae, are you listening?”
Rae turned to Tam, who, like her, wore a loose-fitting green gown, pleated in a way that better concealed the items they’d hidden beneath. A headband beaded with green faience and bone held back Tam’s curly hair, which had become unruly in the heat.
“Yes, sorry,” she said.
Tam licked her lips. She looked nervous, but it seemed there was more on her mind than their current predicament.
“Listen, the sun rose on one world and may set on another, and I don’t know what our part in it will be.
I hope that you and I will leave this place as we entered it: together and whole.
” Her voice trembled. “In case we don’t, I want to tell you I—”
“Tam.”
Rae steadied her basket on her hip and reached out to give Tam’s hand a squeeze. “Tell me after. I will fight that much harder, knowing your words are waiting for me on the other side.”
Tam took a shaky breath and nodded.
Rae released her hand and refocused on the fortress, her courage renewed. You can do this, she thought. You must do this. For Father. For Sakesh. For her.
They passed between two cedar flagpoles flying the black and red banners of Thonis and followed the royal procession onto the drawbridge that crossed a narrow moat fed by the Iteru.
Being that it was still the dry season, the moat was shallow and appeared free of crocodiles, but both still provided additional defense for the fortress.
After crossing the drawbridge, the procession approached the gatehouse—a formidable structure comprised of three sets of huge wooden doors leading to the interior. Rae followed the group through each set of doors, her nervousness threatening to resurface.
For the love of Ra, I hope Femi was telling the truth, she thought. The success of their mission hinged on it. If he’d led her astray, all would be lost.
Rae squinted as they emerged from the shadows of the gatehouse and into the light of a wide interior courtyard, alive with people and the sound of beating drums. Rae could imagine small armies amassing there to train, receive commands, and defend the kingdom from invading forces.
The place looked a bit sparse and underused, but Rae had a feeling that was changing.
She knew Amunmose had allowed the size of Khetara’s military to decline during his reign—so assured was he of their superiority over neighboring kingdoms. It was clear that Meryamun intended to change that.
About a hundred armed guards and soldiers were stationed around the courtyard, with the majority gathered on either side of the procession.
In front of them, a large flat-topped stone citadel stood at the center of the courtyard, a stronghold containing administrative chambers, soldiers’ barracks, and a temple devoted to Horus, the falcon-headed god of war.
Femi had told her that much, though there hadn’t been time during their escape for further detail. Aside from the crucial one, of course.
Behind them, starting with the outermost set, each of the gatehouse doors swung shut with finality.
One, two, three.
Rae swallowed. Here we go.
At the base of the entrance to the citadel, a raised platform had been erected and draped with billowing red and black fabric.
Tall bronze braziers burned on each end, framing the three masked priests who stood there, chanting words Rae couldn’t hear while the procession found their places.
There was a surreal, grotesque quality to those men, their bodies hairless and barefoot, shining with oil, their faces hidden beneath sneering animal masks—a ram, an ibis, and a falcon.
In front of the platform, a great trench had been dug into the earth, more than fifty arms’ lengths long and deep enough that Rae could not see the bottom from her position.
A dozen white-clad priestesses moved at the rim of the trench, some beating goblet drums and shaking sistrums, others dancing while carrying vases of red clay.
The vases were painted with sacred words in spidery black symbols that seemed to shiver with the sway of the dance.
The air was taut with anticipation, magic building within it like sparks ready to catch fire. Rae fought to keep her expression passive, though her chest tightened and her stomach roiled with every step.
Neff, the queen, and the princess’s palanquins were lowered to allow them to ascend the platform, each of the women carrying a bundle of blue lotus blossoms. Meanwhile, Rae, Tam, and the other servants and courtiers approached the trench with reverence, all carrying baskets of offerings in their arms. One by one, they spilled their contents into the pit.
Rae waited her turn, mesmerized at the sight of colorful linens, bunches of grapes, fragrant sacks of incense, and all manner of prosperity cascading down into the earth.
Her own basket carried a sheaf of golden wheat, and as she watched it fall into the deep trench, she reminded herself why she was there.
I’m here, Father. I’ve come.
Once the baskets were emptied, the assembled gathered before the trench, leaving ample room for what was about to unfold.
The priestesses ceased their drumbeat, filling the courtyard with a pregnant silence before starting again, louder and faster than before. As if racing to match them, Rae’s pulse quickened as the door to the citadel was thrown open. The king emerged into the light.
Meryamun gazed out at the assembly, his eyes piercing beneath the double crown, which dazzled with gold and diamond and electrum.
He wore a knee-length black schenti and, over his bare chest, a wide falcon-shaped collar studded with emerald and obsidian.
A long green cape was fastened over his shoulders, which rippled behind him as he descended the steps toward the platform.
The drums beat louder and faster still.
When Meryamun reached the platform, the three masked priests raised their hands, and the priestesses carrying the red vases—whose movements, like the music, had been growing more and more frenetic—all stopped at the edge of the trench.
The priests dropped their hands, and the music ended.
In perfect unison, the priestesses hurled the vases into the pit, and Rae flinched as they shattered on the ground below. The priestesses withdrew in silence.
Rae scanned the figures on the platform.
The princess looked positively reptilian in deep green embroidered with gold; Neff was in sacred white and wore the same short wig she’d had on when Rae had first seen her.
The queen was also garbed in green, her gown accompanied by an amethyst-studded vulture collar around her neck.
Where is Prince Bakenamun? Rae wondered. He was not on the platform, and though she stretched to look, she could not spot him among the congregation of priests.
Meryamun stepped forward, his arms crossed over his chest, the royal crook in one hand and the flail in the other.
“My people,” he said, his voice carrying across the vast space.
“When my father lay dying—may he live forever in the West—I promised him I would restore Khetara to its former glory, the glory envisioned and realized by King Sematawy, who gave his life to unite the Two Lands under one crown.
“But great deeds come at a high cost, and not everyone has the fortitude to pay such a price. Some may even go so far as to attempt to undermine this sacred work, to allow their weak hearts and simple minds to guide them to annihilation.” He paused, his eyes hawkish. “That ends here.”
Rae’s hands balled into fists.
“Modern pharaohs have been satisfied with a tempered version of execration. They have burned their enemies in effigy; they have broken the red pots. Well, we have burned, and we have broken. We have made our offerings to the gods of war. But today, I say to you: That is not enough!” His shout rang across the courtyard.
“It has never been enough. When our resolve weakened, the fissures in our once-formidable kingdom appeared. Today, we strike a blow against our enemies, both within and beyond our borders. We lay a curse upon the heads of all who oppose Khetara and its king, wherever they may roam. Today, we armor ourselves in blood.”
A side door opened in the citadel, and a parade of ragged prisoners emerged, their heads hooded and their wrists bound behind their backs. Guards prodded them toward the pit, hoisting them back to their feet when they stumbled and fell.
Red-hot fury poured through Rae’s veins, and as she watched the men and women stand in front of the trench, it was all she could do not to issue a war cry and launch herself toward them.
Not yet, she told herself. Wait for the signal.
The prisoners were silent as they faced the assembly, though Rae thought she could hear one of them sobbing.
She scanned the line, trying to discern which one was her father, but without being able to see their faces and with their arms bound behind them, she couldn’t be sure.
Their time in the dark had hollowed them, made them all pale and shrunken and knobby-kneed.
Rae flicked her gaze to the sky and measured the angle of the sun.
She prayed.
“Traitors stand before you,” Meryamun declared.
“These Sakeshi men and women stoked the fires of rebellion in Low Khetara. Not only will their deaths channel the old magic that my father and his predecessors were too feeble to employ, but it will send a message to all who mean to betray the sanctity of the crown. The might of the gods themselves will come thundering upon their heads should they raise a weapon or a word against me.”
Rae’s muscles twitched. The guards stationed along the ramparts were all turned inward, watching the ritual. It was almost time.
“I do not speak lightly of betrayal,” Meryamun continued, descending the steps from the platform and making his way toward the prisoners.
The ram-masked priest followed him, taking the crook and flail from the king and passing him a ceremonial mace.
“I know betrayal both broadly and acutely. It is one thing to be betrayed by a hundred faceless peasants, but quite another to find treachery at the heart of your own house.”
Rae and Neff’s eyes met. Something wasn’t right.
Meryamun stopped beside the first prisoner, a slight, stooped figure in a dirty white tunic.
“It brings me back to what I said about the necessity of fortitude. Great sacrifices must be made to steer this kingdom back to glory, and I will spill that blood. Even if it is my own.” With that, he removed the prisoner’s hood with a flourish.
The crowd gasped, and Rae’s stomach twisted.
Standing before them, his angular face bruised and battered, was Prince Bakenamun.