The Desert Prince

by Alisha Sevigny

  Paser, seeing what I am about, walks over and reaches for the tiny instrument. Reluctantly, I surrender it and hold my left hand out. He begins to extract some of the larger pieces of wood in my palm, bending his head over my hand. I prefer not to view the proceedings and look up at the lightening sky. Watching people pull slivers from one’s body is only slightly worse than not watching. Father asked his patients to look away, as I did with Pepi. Unlike the spy, I take my father’s advice.

  “Will we find another boat?” Reb asks.

  I hiss, not at his suggestion, but at Paser’s most recent extraction. It feels like fire coming out.

  “No,” Pepi says. “We are close to a village with a small market. We can make our way there and get what we need for our journey.”

  “What will we barter with?” I ask to further distract myself. Paser takes my other hand in his, beginning his efforts anew.

  “What do you have?” Pepi says, eyeing the satchel.

  My free hand automatically goes to my neck for my father’s scarab amulet. But I’d left it with Bebi to give to Ky. Though it would come in handy, I am relieved the necklace is safe with my brother. I pray it protects him better than it did my father. More than done with the splinter removal, I wave Paser off and pick up the bag. As I stick my hand in, my body gives a small, involuntary shudder, remembering a time when I touched brains, a cruel joke by another scribe.

  “The silver is gone,” I say, digging around.

  “It is probably at the bottom of the Nile,” Reb says.

  “Along with Ahmes’s blade,” Paser adds with regret.

  I take everything out, upend the satchel, and give it a vigorous shake. The precious stones from my mother’s bracelet fall to the ground. I drop to my knees and pick them up, relieved and amazed they were not also lost during our swim. The fiery orange and stunning green-blue stones sparkle in the early morning light. They are valuable, not only in terms of what they can buy, but because they were my mother’s. The only physical pieces I have left from her.

  “Perhaps someone will barter with us for these,” I say past the lump in my throat, holding them out. I do not know why I feel so sad. This is why I took them in the first place: they are small and easy to travel with and can be used as payment.

  “Those will do well.” Pepi walks over and holds his injured hand out. “May I see them?” He seems to sense my reluctance. “I know what we need. I will buy the items. One is less memorable than four, especially as our escape will have been noticed by now.”

  Paser, Reb, and I exchange glances. He means that soldiers are definitely in pursuit.

  Paser crosses his arms over his broad chest. “How do we know you will not leave us once you have what you need to flee?”

  “I said we must trust one another,” Pepi reminds him. “I saved your friend’s life in the river. I also listened to him and followed you all through the reeds, which could have ended worse than this.” He holds up his bandaged hand. “I did this as a show of faith, despite knowing the suggestion was most stupid.”

  “Paser will go with you,” I say, wondering if we are wasting precious time by arguing. I can tell Pepi is growing impatient, but he gives a curt nod.

  “As you wish.”

  I place the gemstones in Paser’s palm. “Get a fair exchange.”

  “I will do my best,” he promises. He picks up the waterskin and walks toward the water’s edge to fill it.

  “And what are Sesha and I to do while you barter?” Reb calls to Paser.

  “You can look for some edible herbs and plants,” Pepi suggests. “Every bit of food for our journey helps.”

  Reb does not look pleased at this suggestion. “I have to pick flowers while he gets to engage in trade?”

  Paser stands up with the container, ignoring him. He is overly familiar with Reb’s complaints. “Are we ready to go?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  Reb lets out a sigh to rival the desert winds.

  Paser looks at Pepi. “Lead the way, friend.”

  We follow behind Pepi, the sky growing brighter with each passing step.

  “Check if they have sandals to spare,” Reb says after several minutes. “My feet are not as calloused as Sesha’s.”

  I frown. “I was not aware of your fascination with my feet, Reb.”

  He grins. “One can’t help but notice their bottoms are like the hide of our friend crocodile.”

  “We cannot all be as delicate a blossom as you,” I say archly. “A moon on the streets of Thebes fighting for your life will toughen anyone’s soles.” Among other things.

  Reb falls silent. The boys know little of my time after the fire, before arriving at the palace. I do not really like to speak of it.

  “You could rub some almond oil on them to make them smoother,” Paser suggests. “If we find some.”

  I roll my eyes to the heavens. “Thank you both, but my feet are not my primary concern at the moment.” They would come last on a list, were papyrus not so precious, after water, food, finding Merat, Ky’s safety — I look at Pepi’s back in front of me — a trustworthy guide. “Do you think you can fill that waterskin with something cleaner than river water?” I ask him.

  “We will do our best,” Pepi says. “But there are never any guarantees about what will be on offer.”

  “Sesha’s gems should be enough to pay for more than we can carry,” Reb says, smacking his lips together. “I cannot wait to fill my belly.”

  “Remember,” Pepi says over his shoulder, “you and Sesha need to stay away. People remember new faces, especially young ones. Paser and I will be quick.”

  “Will they not ask you questions?” Reb asks.

  “They will,” Pepi says, looking straight ahead. “Which is why we will have a story ready.”

  “What kind of story?” Paser asks, walking past me to catch up to Pepi, who looks back over his shoulder with a brief smile.

  “You tell me. You are the scribes.”

  12

  REB AND I MOVE THROUGH TALL GRASSES behind the collection of buildings. The village is small, just a few dwellings. The market will be even smaller, if there is anything for sale. Pharaoh said he’s depleted much of the available resources. There has been frequent famine in the past hundred years. Things were better for a short time, but now it seems they are turning worse again.

  “Do you think they will have any fruit?” Reb says with longing. At the temple the scribes would just be starting their midday meal.

  An odd grumbling sound greets my ears.

  “Calm your stomach. They will be back soon enough. Here.” I cast my eye around and pick a few shoots off the ground. “These are edible.” Spotting a small trail, I follow it for a few steps, then stop abruptly.

  “That wasn’t my stomach,” Reb calls from behind.

  A large donkey stands in front of me, chewing placidly at the grasses around him. Or her. I am not intimately familiar with the creatures.

  Reb walks over to me, admiring the beast. “At last, some good fortune!”

  “You want to take it?” I say, surprised. “It likely belongs to the people here.”

  “That hasn’t stopped us so far,” Reb points out. “Besides, the people here are traitors.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They must know who Pepi is.”

  “He is a messenger, with news of Princess Merat’s engagement.” That’s the story we decided on. By the time the real messenger arrives with word, we will be far into the desert. And, by the gods’ good graces, still alive.

  “I am certain they know he is a spy.” Reb eyes the donkey, who takes no real notice of us. “They could even be in league with the Hyksos. He is probably selling us, along with the gemstones, as we speak.”

  “That may be a bit of a jump,” I say. “Besides, Paser is with him. And Pepi wants to get back to his people.”

  “Does he?” Reb turns to look at me. He is not as tall as Paser but still taller than I am. His eyes glitter darkly, l
ike the Nile at night. “We know nothing about him. Surely the chieftain who came for Merat would know that one of his own was being held in the pits. You’d think he would try to free a member of his tribe.” Reb walks slowly up to the donkey. “If this is the mark of the loyalty the Hyksos show each other, then we’d best be wary.” He puts his hand out cautiously, touching the donkey’s coarse brown hide. The sturdy beast’s long ears tilt back, flickering as Reb strokes it slowly. “I am thinking we should liberate this magnificent animal.”

  “It is not tied,” I point out.

  “Then it is not stealing if it chooses to come with us,” Reb reasons. “I might not take from my ancestors’ tombs, but this is another matter.”

  I cross my arms. “And how are you going to charm it into coming with us? A complimentary look at his teeth?”

  “Maybe you are not the only one who can enchant an animal,” Reb says, clicking his tongue at the donkey.

  “If you’re referring to the snake, I did not enchant it.” I puff at a piece of hair that sticks to my cheek. It is very hot today. “It thought I was an enemy and was mimicking my movements.”

  “How is that not enchantment?”

  Suddenly, I hear voices. I duck in the bush, pulling Reb down with me. We do not want to be seen. Especially if Reb has his way and this donkey is about to go missing.

  “… around here somewhere …” a voice says.

  We scramble farther back into the scrub, but it is no use. We will be caught if the owner of the voice comes any closer.

  “There you are, you demon,” says another voice, this one sounding overjoyed. Pepi comes into view. He stops when he sees Reb and me and turns quickly, blocking the man behind him from seeing us. “Friend,” he says to the man, “I have assured myself of my animal’s good health. Thank you for caring for her while I was away. Let us go and find some beer and food.” Pepi puts an arm around the older man’s shoulder, guiding him back in the direction of the village.

  “There is not much,” the man mumbles. “Everything we have went to the palace.” They walk off, leaving Reb and me with the donkey, who brays loudly at her master’s desertion.

  “Looks like you got your wish, Reb,” I say. “We seem to have acquired another travel companion.”

  We leave the town, walking not far from the Nile’s banks. Pepi and Paser managed to fill the waterskin with barley mash and find a few small loaves of stale bread. They begged two small melons and some wilted cabbage, which we have added to the onion shoots Reb and I collected. They also found several linens in varying lengths and sizes, thin papyrus belts, and, most wondrously, four sets of sandals. The village boasts an esteemed sandal maker and son in residence, which means there is always an extra pair or two around — maybe not in perfect condition, but serviceable enough. Our steps make a rhythmic slapping sound of foot against papyrus. Pfflip. Pfflop. Pfflip. Pfflop.

  “We will need to conserve what we have,” Pepi says, walking beside the donkey, whom he calls Nefer. The name means “beautiful,” an attribute I would not personally ascribe to the donkey, though it is said that beauty is a most subjective quality.

  “Sesha.” Paser holds his hand out. “We did not need all of them.” I open my palm and two of my mother’s gems fall into it.

  “Thank you, Paser.” My throat is tight. He smiles and catches up to Reb, who stares at Nefer’s back as if picturing himself on top of it. I put the turquoise and carnelian in my satchel. It is silly that a few stones make me feel so much better, but they do. Carrying them with me makes my heart lighter. They are protective stones, talismans for the journey ahead.

  I walk at the back of our caravan, wondering about the impossibility of what we are doing. Going blindly after Merat into the desert, led by a man known to us as a spy. Paser, Reb, and I had the good fortune to grow up more privileged than most, as children of scribes and priests. And surviving the streets of Thebes was one thing, but to survive the Red Land? Where Set, the god of chaos, rules and havoc reigns in the brutal sands and unrelenting heat. Dangerous creatures and angry gods, all waiting to hasten one’s way to the afterlife —

  “Sesha.”

  I look up. Paser is staring at me.

  “Are you well?”

  “I am,” I say. “Just admiring my new shoes.” Which are not a terrible fit, all things considered. “Soon my feet will be as smooth as Reb’s bottom.”

  They all burst into laughter, including Reb, and we continue walking, talking of insignificant things.

  13

  WE HAVE NOT SEEN A SIZABLE LANDMARK in some time and are beginning to leave behind the sparse green shrubs that dot the sands. Ra is almost at his full height.

  “We will stop soon,” says Pepi. “There are rock formations ahead where we can make camp for a few hours. After that, we will travel only at night, by the stars. It is too hot to walk far in the desert.”

  “He tells me what I already know,” Reb says, wiping his brow. Each of us is robed in one of the faded linens from the village. We used the remaining pieces to cover our heads, securing them with a papyrus belt, fabric trailing down over our shoulders. Even Nefer gets a large swathe folded across her back.

  “As the beasts laze in the day, so too will we. Moving instead of sleeping at night will keep us warmer, as well as safer from the smaller, but no less lethal, creatures that come out after dark.” Pepi looks over his shoulder at us. “We should stop speaking now. I find the desert kills those who talk most the quickest.”

  At last, the rocks Pepi spoke of come into view. The flies and bugs buzzing around our faces are intolerable. I wave them off at first but eventually give up, adjusting my linen head covering so only my eyes show. I feel sympathy for Nefer, who twitches her long black ears in annoyance at the insects but is unable to do much more than wheeze and shake her head every so often.

  Pepi holds up his hand. “We will stop and rest here for a few hours.”

  “Thank the gods,” Reb croaks, throat sounding as parched as mine feels.

  “Look around for sticks we can lean against the side of the rock. This will block the worst of Ra’s rays.”

  “Do you not call the god by another name?” I ask Pepi, my mouth dry, while we cast our eyes about for sticks.

  “My ancestors have lived on this land, at the delta, for many years. In addition to your language, we’ve adopted many of your gods and traditions along the way. We identify your Set with our chief god, Hadad.”

  This surprises me. The Hyksos, rulers of foreign lands, stay mainly in the North, in their capital of Avaris, and though some do make their way to Thebes, Pepi is the first I have met. He is not what I expect. He speaks as eloquently as a temple scribe, calls his donkey Nefer, our word for beautiful, and shows respect to the gods as we do. Though the chaotic Set would not be my first choice as chief god.

  Between the four of us, we collect enough sticks to create a small shelter. We lean them against the sandy stone to build a welcome, if slightly gapped, barrier from the unrelenting heat.

  There is barely room for all four of us. Sweating, we get settled as best we can, lying down, side by side. Nefer brays loudly and Pepi shifts slightly, allowing her to poke her nose and head into the spotty shade of the shelter. The rest of her body is exposed, though being on the north side of the rock offers some relief from the sun, as does the folded linen draped across her back. Paser passes around the waterskin. We each take a drink that seems much too short, but we need to ration what we have. Paser puts the stopper back in and slings the strap over his shoulder. By unspoken agreement he and Reb will share the carrying of the barley drink. It goes unsaid, but I know they think there is less chance of Pepi abandoning us if he does not have access to liquid. The satchel with the food and medical supplies, including my father’s blade, lies between Paser and Reb. I am squeezed between Paser and Pepi.

  It is very tight quarters.

  “Try to rest.” Pepi rolls over onto his side, stroking Nefer’s nose. “We will move again when the s
un is down.”

  “How will we wake?” Paser asks, leaning back against the rock face.

  “I will wake.” Pepi’s voice holds no doubt.

  “But will he be here when we do?” I hear Reb whisper in Paser’s ear.

  Paser does not respond, and I close my eyes, exhausted from the heat and the walking, unable to think of anything but sleep.

  I wake with a shiver. The temperature has fallen drastically. The space on my left is empty. Heart quickening, I sit up, rubbing the gritty sand out of the corners of my eyes. Reb and Paser continue to snore lightly on my right. I stick my head out of our crude shelter and see a strange outline.

  Pepi leans back against the donkey, looking up at the sky, purple grey in the west, fading to a deep violet in the east. He is studying the stars, which are beginning to reveal themselves in great numbers as night settles upon us. I leave the warmth of Paser’s side and go to sit with the spy.

  “How long until we reach the oasis where the princess is?” I ask.

  “Roughly two more nights,” says Pepi, scanning the horizon. “If there are no sandstorms or any other … complications.”

  I try not to dwell on what other complications he might mean and instead think of seeing Merat in three days’ time. She will be most surprised. My heart swells as I imagine the look on her face. I hope she is being treated fairly and that the chieftain does not hold her public rejection of him too strongly against her.

  “How is your hand?” I ask Pepi.

  “Well enough,” he says, holding it up, still bound in the dirty linen.

  “You need a fresh bandage,” I say, getting up to go back into the shelter. I grab the satchel, careful not to wake Paser and Reb, who both sleep like the dead, their breathing rhythmic and deep.

  Rejoining Pepi, I take a relatively clean strip of linen and the jar of honey from the bag.