“Merat will not let them do that,” I whisper.
“Your skills as physicians may be welcome,” Pepi says, despite his previous assertion that they would be as liable to kill us all.
“You will speak for us, then?” Paser asks Pepi. A welcome breeze picks up, reviving us somewhat.
“I will. Do you have any other talents that might persuade the tribe to adopt you?”
“As scribes, we can read and write and teach others to do the same,” Paser says.
“The Hyksos are mighty warriors,” Pepi says. “While your skills as scribes might have been useful had we gone to Avaris, I am not sure a camp full of soldiers will appreciate them.”
“I can fight,” Paser says, the wind ruffling his hair. “My grandfather was one of the pharaoh’s best soldiers and trained me well.”
“And Sesha can charm snakes,” Reb offers feebly.
“I am not worried about Sesha. She can charm more than just snakes,” Pepi says. “A young woman will be a welcome addition to the Hyksos.”
“What are you saying?” Pepi’s words bring me out of my thirsty delirium.
“One of the warriors will likely want you for a wife,” Pepi says simply.
Paser stops so abruptly that Reb almost walks into him. “I will say she is spoken for,” Paser says, turning to face us.
“Then they will definitely kill you.” Pepi sounds amused.
“What am I to do?” I feel sick, but there is nothing in my stomach to come up.
“It is obvious.” Reb looks up at the sky. “Pepi will have to say you are his.”
“I am no one’s,” I say. My heels kick Nefer’s side in emphatic protest of this suggestion and she grunts. I give her an apologetic pat.
“Reb is right.” Paser looks at Pepi. “You must have known this from the beginning.”
“It occurred to me,” Pepi agrees. “I did not want to speak of it, as the odds were against us making it this far. There was no point in adding to the burden you carry.”
“You think we will reach the oasis, then?” Reb, who does not seem bothered by my unexpected betrothal, is hopeful. Pepi does not respond and we fall silent, as talking dries our throats almost beyond bearing.
“It does not have to be real,” Pepi whispers to me. “Only appear so. Like the way the desert sun makes the air shimmer, tricking those who view it into seeing something that is not there.”
I shake my head, unable to answer.
“If you say that your friends are your brothers, and therefore my family as well, no harm will come to them.” Pepi looks at me. I glance back and forth between him and them, seeing the truth in Pepi’s eyes of what would happen should I not offer that protection to Reb and Paser.
“If we survive the desert I will abide by this plan.” Licking my cracked lips, I lift my head to look at the sands before me, stretching as far as my eyes can see. “But at this moment, that feels like a very big if.”
19
I JERK AWAKE, HEAD SNAPPING UP. Nefer’s rhythmic gait has lulled me into sleep, but now she missteps, and I almost fall off. We stop.
“Peace.” Pepi soothes her, but at the same time scans the horizon, searching for what her unease tells him. I feel it, too; her body is restless, she moves from foot to foot. The breeze has turned into gusts, ruffling her coarse mane.
“What is it?” I ask.
“There.” He points ahead and just off to the left. Reb and Paser stop to look. The sky is black.
“I see nothing,” I say, wondering if what Pepi’s been looking for has finally caught up to us. Will we have to stand and face Queen Anat’s soldiers? A ravenous lion?
“Precisely,” Pepi responds, voice terse. “The stars vanish, one by one.”
“How can that be?” Reb asks.
“Sandstorm.”
Alarm joins the thirst and fatigue in my body. A sandstorm we cannot fight. “Is it moving this way?”
“It appears so.” Pepi mutters a curse under his breath.
“How far off?” Paser asks.
“Not far.” A huge gust almost blows me off Nefer. I cannot see the dust rising in the air, but I can feel it.
“Tie your headscarves around your faces,” Pepi shouts. He leads Nefer down a dune. I hold on to her, half falling off when we reach the bottom. She brays loudly, eyes rolling in her head. The wind whips at us like a ferocious beast.
“It is Set,” Reb says, naming the desert god of chaos. “He is coming for us.”
Pepi quickly removes the linen from Nefer’s back. “The sticks will not work here. We will need to sit under the sheet, facing in, heads together and backs to the storm. Each of you tuck a corner underneath yourself.”
“We will suffocate under there,” Reb argues, his voice panicked.
“It is better than being blinded and choking to death on sand and rock,” Pepi says. “There are invisible holes in the fabric where the air will come through.”
The dust storm is moving closer. In the dark of the night, it is difficult to see. But the sky grows even dimmer as the light of the stars — and then the moon — is blocked out. There are tales of entire villages and caravans being swallowed by the sands. Are we about to join them? I can hear the storm now, whirling and howling, the massive cloud growing in strength and size the closer it gets.
Reb, Paser, and I each take a corner, pulling the sheet over our heads. A sudden gust catches the linen, tearing it from our hands. Only Paser manages to hold on. Nefer rears loudly, sending a high-pitched scream into the air, and bolts.
Pepi yells at Paser. “Do not let go!” Then he chases after the frightened donkey.
The wind whips the fabric like a sail. Reb and I try to catch it, but only succeed in banging heads. Paser, ever calm under dire circumstances, gathers the linen to his chest in a ball. The storm is almost upon us and we are exposed to the elements. We choke and cough, eyes watering.
“Do not let go.” Paser rasps Pepi’s command, and we each grab a corner of the sheet, managing to get it over our heads. We sit on the sand forming a tight triangle, backs facing outwards. With our heads together, mine still smarting from smacking Reb’s, we shift the sheet underneath our bottoms until we sit solidly upon it, pulling the edges up between our legs. I feel Paser and Reb’s breath on my cheeks, as they must feel mine. It is even darker under the linen.
“What about Pepi?” I say, frantic. Why did he go after Nefer?
“He will be all right, Sesha,” Paser says. I cannot see his face well, but I hear the doubt in his voice. He grabs my hand and Reb’s and the three of us sit there, gripping one another tightly. Then the storm is upon us, howling and raging and dancing on our backs. Set flings sands and rocks in every direction, and despite the dark, I close my eyes.
I do not know if it has been hours or days, but at last the roar of the wind fades. I cannot stay one second longer under the suffocating fabric, so I come out, breathing in a lungful of dusty air. Immediately, I begin coughing and duck back under the sheet, which has become untucked. I feel dizzy and thirsty beyond anything I have ever known. Our last sip of the barley drink feels like hours ago.
“How is it?” Reb asks after I gain control of myself. Eyes watering, I shake my head, indicating he should wait a few more minutes before venturing out from under the linen. Pepi has not come back. He is gone, along with any remaining hope that we will make it out of the desert alive.
“Could you tell if it is still night?” Paser asks, tongue going to his split bottom lip.
“It must be morning,” Reb says. “The dust will settle just in time for the sun to boil us alive.”
“There is an equally good chance we will suffocate under here.” I cough. My body feels sore and bruised after being relentlessly pelted by sand and small rocks.
“We are forsaken.” Reb closes his eyes. “I wish I never left Thebes.”
Paser and I remain silent, though part of me agrees with Reb.
Whoosh!
The worn sheet is ripped off
us. Another storm? I cannot bear it. We blink into the sandy air, which seems clearer than when I poked my head out.
Pepi stands over us, head wrapped up, only his dark eyes showing. Nefer stands behind him. An unfamiliar face looms beside the donkey. Pepi nods back over his shoulder, and though his voice is muffled by the wrappings around his head, his words are sweeter than fresh honey: “We are here.”
20
“I THOUGHT HE SAID WE WERE HERE,” Reb mutters under his breath a little while later. Pepi and the stranger walk ahead, talking in low voices. I ride Nefer, who, like us, seems to have a few lives to spare. Paser and Reb walk on either side of the donkey.
“How did he survive the storm?” I say, sandstruck.
“Probably stuck his head up Nefer’s bum,” Reb grumbles. Paser bursts out laughing, sounding like a frog croaking to death. Pepi and the man, who we gather is a scout for the tribe, look over their shoulders as the three of us dissolve into staccato giggles, a trio of deranged hyenas.
The man shakes his head and says something to Pepi I don’t quite catch. If I were to wager, I would say it is along the lines of, The desert has taken their minds.
Snorting and huffing, we manage to get ourselves under control, though our near encounter with death leaves us easily amused. Nefer farts loudly, which sends us into more hysterics, and I hold my stomach, which is cramping from too little food and water, as well as from the vigorous workout it’s getting.
“Look,” Paser says between gasps of laughter. He points at a shimmer on the horizon, and I wonder if it is another of the desert’s tricks.
But as we get closer, the shape of the oasis solidifies. Green bursts out of the sands, birds fly overhead, the smell of fresh water is in the air — it is the most beautiful sight.
“Just in time.” Paser shields his eyes from the sun, which is high in the sky.
The man walking with Pepi hands him his own waterskin, and the spy takes a healthy drink, throat moving as he swallows. I long to run over and rip the container from Pepi’s hands, guzzling till I burst. The drink the man gave us right after the sandstorm did not do much to quench my thirst.
Pepi stops and holds out the waterskin to Paser, who is closest. Paser takes the skin and turns, offering it to me.
I shake my head. “You first.” I know he has had less than his share on the journey, leaving more for Reb and me. Paser puts the water to his lips. He hands it to me when he is done, and I pass it to Reb.
“Here. You are likely thirstier than I.” I grin at him, feeling my lip split open, tasting the coppery warmth of blood. “Seeing as how you never shut up.”
Gratitude flashes in Reb’s eyes as he takes the container and drinks. At last it is my turn. I pour the liquid into my mouth, feeling it slide down my throat in a blissful river, as life-giving as the Nile itself.
“Not too much at once,” Pepi warns. Forcing myself to take a breath, I give the container back to Paser and we pass it around in a circle a few more times. Too soon, Pepi takes it from us and gives it back to the man, who stares at us in curiosity.
Now that I am somewhat hydrated, I have more attention for the Hyksos scout. He is tall and sinewy, tendons and muscles visible under weathered skin. Dressed in a short linen skirt and worn sandals, his chest is partially covered by the hide of some animal. My eyes focus on the dagger strapped at his waist. My own blade rests at nearly the same spot, wrapped and secured on my person with linen strips. I notice Paser also looking at the scout’s dagger. My friend is wary of the stranger. We all are.
“Come,” says Pepi. “There will be food for us.”
With my burning thirst slightly abated, there is something I must know. “Is Merat here?”
The scout looks at Pepi and says something under his breath. An unreadable expression crosses Pepi’s face.
“What did he say?” I demand.
“The princess is here,” Pepi says, turning to face us. “It seems we have arrived just in time for her wedding celebration.”
People stare openly as we make our way in from the edge of the oasis.
“Remember,” Pepi whispers to us. “Sesha and I are to be married. Let me do the speaking.”
There are many people in the camp going about the daily tasks one sees in any small village: preparing food, doing the washing, making beer. A few children run around, playing. There are more men than women. I feel their interested stares, even though I must look like a sand-crusted carcass the lioness dragged in. Perhaps Pepi’s plan is a good one after all.
Tall date palms tower over us, providing protection from the sun. Other grasses and plants grow everywhere, in every direction. The oasis is lush, fragrant, and blooming. After seeing nothing but beige for days, I am struck by the colours: not only the numerous shades of green, but the deep purple of the dates dripping from the palms, the brilliant yellows of the flowers from the acacia trees, and off in the distance, the sparkling blue of a giant lake rising from the desert floor. Several goats run up to us, meh-ing and sniffing our hands. We are tattered, filthy, and half-starved. But we are alive. The oasis seems to stretch out all around us. There are huts and tents everywhere; it is a proper, bustling camp.
“I wonder where they are keeping Merat.” I glance around, excitement rising, trying to catch a glimpse of my friend.
“Do you think they will believe Pepi about your engagement?” Reb whispers, looking uneasy.
“Let us hope so,” I whisper back.
“I wonder who he is to these people,” Paser says in a low voice. “He is one of them, but in what way?” He eyes the back of the spy, who is laughing and greeting people around us. “And why is he helping us? He said once we arrived, we would be on our own.”
Paser is right. I swallow, remembering Pepi’s words when we first freed him and asked him to take us to the Hyksos: It is likely they will kill you.
I shake my head, thinking of the quicksand, the bonds forged by the sands. “He saved our lives by leading us this far, and he came back for us after the storm.” I am not sure if I am trying to convince Paser and Reb or myself that it will be all right. “He could have left us for dead.”
Pepi stops outside a hut that is slightly larger than the others and turns to us. “Wait here,” he says, then walks into the building. It is decorated with flowers and is the most important-looking dwelling we have seen so far.
“That must be the chieftain’s residence,” I whisper to Paser and Reb as I dismount Nefer.
A few men standing guard outside watch the three of us with suspicion. We stand there trying to look harmless, which is fairly easy given our present condition.
A loud shout comes from the hut, and the guards rush toward the door. My hand goes to the obsidian blade, but luckily the guards do not notice. Pepi emerges, an enormous man beside him. The pair are in high spirits, clapping each other on the back. Relief floods my body as I recognize the large man as the chieftain I saw storming out of the palace. He was furious then. Now he looks happy, relaxed. A crowd is gathering, a message passing unspoken between members of the tribe that something out of the ordinary is happening.
“It is time for much celebration!” the Hyksos chieftain calls, his thundering voice loud and clear. “My cousin is safely returned from the land of the jackals!”
Reb, Paser, and I look at each other. Cousin?
“He brings with him a bride. A feisty jackal, like my own princess.”
My friends and I exchange another look. I think he speaks of me.
“We will teach her to be a lioness!” He raises a fist in the air and Pepi shrugs, resigned.
“It is a great sign from the gods that you return this day,” the giant Hyksos says to Pepi. “You and your betrothed will marry beside my bride and me tonight. Two daughters of Thebes and two members of our tribe joining together!”
Wait. My mouth drops open. Does he mean —
“The weddings begin at sundown!”
21
“ONE MOMENT HE LEAVES HIS COUSIN
in a pit in the ‘land of the jackals,’ the next he wishes to share his wedding day with him?” Reb, chomping down on a piece of bread, is back to his skeptical self.
“It would seem the chieftain did not know about Pepi’s predicament,” Paser muses. “Or else he is putting on a good show.”
“Never mind that,” I say, panic rising up in my chest. “The pricklier of the plants here is that I am to be married!” The words sound strange coming out of my mouth, and I wonder if this is an extended hallucination caused by the desert heat.
“Sesha!” a voice cries, and my heart leaps like an antelope across the plains.
Merat.
I turn and she races toward me, almost knocking me over with her embrace. I hold her tightly, sharing in her joy, tears coming to my eyes.
“What are you doing here? You came for me?” As questions tumble out of her, she pats my body, as if making sure she herself is not seeing things. It has only been days, but she looks different somehow, sharper and more defined, if that is possible.
Reb stands and swallows his bread. “Princess, we hope you are well.”
“Have you been treated fairly?” Paser asks. Both are happy to see her but do not embrace her, remaining formal with their princess despite the fact that we journeyed an unmeasurable distance, risking our lives to be here.
She turns to them and inclines her head graciously. “I am well. Despite being given away like a prized cow by my father and mother.” She waves an impervious hand. “Have they changed their minds and sent you to bring me home?”
A shadow must have crossed my face at her mention of the queen, because she seizes upon it. “What is it? What of my mother?”
“We will speak of it later,” I say, wanting to avoid any discomfort at our reunion.
Reb has no such qualms. “She tried to have us killed,” he says, quite cheerful now that his belly is full and there is no immediate danger of dying.
“What?” Merat looks shocked. “That cannot be true.”
“She claimed she was protecting her kingdom,” I say, wondering why I defend Queen Anat.
The Desert Prince Page 8