“He was very gifted,” Min offers, sensing my desperate need to bring him close. “The brightest among his peers. He was also very open-minded, for a Theban.”
“How so?”
Min snorts. “Those at Thebes think Ra rises and sets on them alone. Your father did not share the same … prejudices that others from his background have. He believed in the equality of people and that our differences make us stronger. He was eager to learn from other tribes and share his own knowledge with us.”
This makes me prouder of him than anything he did as a healer.
My stomach lets out a loud grumble and Min turns, but not before I see his smile. “I suppose we should stop for lunch?” he says.
Pepi did say to eat my fill. Min prepares us a hearty meal of fruit and bread, vegetables and meat. I eat until I feel full and sleepy, side effects of the tasty food and a late night.
“Go rest, Sesha,” Min says kindly. The sun is directly overhead, and others will be taking a quick nap in the shade. I go out to the garden, find a quiet spot under a tree, and curl up in the dappled sunlight.
No one disturbs me and I sleep away the afternoon, waking chilled in the shade. I wonder if Pepi has taken his own advice to eat and rest as much as possible. It is hard to imagine him needing either — he seems tireless to me. He is probably busy preparing for our journey.
I wander into the hut, but Min is gone, likely to check on Akin. I pray the soldier stays strong while we are away. Min left behind a small bundle of prepared medicines in a satchel similar to my old one. Included among the items is the potion we brewed from the seeds of the caterpillars’ beloved plant. There is a long piece of grass, curved into an S, marking them for me. I think of Min stuffing me to my gills and letting me rest, leaving me these herbs and medicines to take. He must know. Did Pepi tell him or did the healer figure it out on his own? Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I leave the hut, keeping an eye out for the spy. I walk past Pentu and his bees; he gives a friendly wave. Ra still shines overhead, but it will not be long before he begins his descent.
I find myself at the training grounds. Paser and Reb are practising with the Hyksos bows. They both do very well. Nearly all of Reb’s arrows hit their marks, and Paser does not miss a single shot. He is right. Their bows are far superior to ours, not only in their appearance, but also in their obvious lightness and ease of use. The arrows have a much longer range, and I shiver at one of them finding their mark in Pharaoh.
I see Pepi, who is a ways off with the horses. Two of the creatures pull something behind them and I squint, holding up a hand to block Ra’s rays. The horses are tethered to a sled-like object, not dissimilar to the Sun God’s royal vessel that carries him across the sky.
Pepi jumps on the sled and urges the horses to move at a quick pace, swatting their behinds lightly with a switch. He keeps his balance admirably and pulls an arrow from the quiver on his back to load the bow he holds in his left hand. The other soldiers turn to watch as he shoots from the moving sled, a direct hit on one of the targets. A loud cheer rises among the men as a chilling realization thunders through me, like the hooves over the ground.
Hathor, help us. They are going to use the horses.
Pharaoh’s army will have much more than elite bows and bronze weapons to worry about if Yanassi convinces those at Avaris that battle is necessary. The Hyksos will have the advantages of speed and endurance, as well as increased projectile force, not to mention sheer intimidation with the creatures and their unearthly cries bearing down on their enemies.
The importance of all I must do makes me feel slightly ill: retrieve the elusive scroll and heal Akin so my friends and I can get to Avaris, in addition to warning Thebes of the Hyksos’s weapons and of Yanassi’s ambitions. These are no small things.
Pepi jumps off the back of the sled, landing on the sandy ground, and raps his chest twice in acknowledgement of the soldiers’ cheers. With the other hand he lifts the bow high in triumph. Catching my eye, he gestures subtly with his head to wait over by the clump of palms that shelters the other animals. His showy display signals an end to the day’s activities, and the soldiers begin to pack up their weapons and return to the village for the evening meal.
Paser and Reb walk toward me, their gait and gestures animated, presumably from witnessing the horses in action. “Sesha,” Reb calls. “Is it you?”
I remember my hair. “I think so,” I say, reaching up to touch it. Though, in all honesty, I am not sure exactly who that is anymore.
“It suits you,” Paser says, his hand lifts, as if he, too, wants to touch it.
“Sesha.” Pepi walks up behind Paser and Reb and notices the bag. Paser’s hand lowers back down. “Thank you for bringing me those items I requested from Min.”
“You are welcome,” I say, holding out the bag.
“Sesha told us you are training her to be a spy,” Reb says after commenting on Pepi’s horsemanship. I want to slap my forehead. Or his. Pepi does not need to be reminded of my slip.
“That’s right,” Pepi says, taking the bag from me. “She is a natural.” I am not sure if this is a compliment.
“You will put her in danger.” Paser crosses his arms. It’s not a question.
“I will do my best not to,” Pepi says, shouldering the satchel. “Sesha and I leave tonight for Thebes.”
The three of us look at Pepi, surprised by his easy admission.
“You are going back into the desert so soon?” Reb says, doubtful.
“Only for a short period,” Pepi says. “We will travel farther by boat this time. Can you help tend the horses while I am away, Reb?” Eagerness flashes across Reb’s face, replacing the uncertainty. “Sham has a way with them.” Pepi names the soldier who found me after Akin’s accident. “But it is always good to have another set of hands. If you like, I will ask Yanassi if he can spare you on occasion.”
Reb nods, looking pleased.
“For someone so new to archery, you are very good with the bow,” I add, and Reb beams further.
“He has a gift for it.” Paser hits him on the shoulder. “Soon he will be a better shot than I.”
“We all have different strengths,” I say, thinking of Reb’s struggle with scripts. I am glad he has found his talent, in addition to pulling teeth, of course. For all that, my mother used to say our worth does not lie in our skills, but in our hearts. She would tell my brother and me that being a good person is a far greater achievement than any external success, despite what the rest of the world tells us. “I have terrible aim,” I add.
“We will have to work on that,” I hear Pepi mutter under his breath.
“Will you bring Ky back with you?” Paser asks, naming something I had not dared hope for.
“I do not know,” I admit, heart beating faster at the thought of seeing my brother again. “We will assess the situation.” Though I would love nothing better than to collect my brother, if he is content and safe in Thebes, I am not sure I should force him to give up his comfortable life there.
“What about Queen Anat?” Reb asks. “She will not want you escaping again.”
“Sesha will have me to look out for her,” Pepi responds with confidence. “As well as her own wits and cunning, which are considerable.”
“Bring her home safely,” Paser says, arms still folded. “Or do not come back at all.”
Pepi pulls himself to his full height, slightly shorter than the scribe turned warrior. “Because I know you mean well, I will let that comment pass. Sesha has come to mean as much to me as she does to you,” he says. Paser snorts as if he very much doubts this.
“I can also take care of myself,” I interject, with more conviction than I feel.
Paser gives me an acknowledging smile, one of his old ones. “I know you can.”
“Say goodbye to your friends, Sesha.” Pepi glances at the sky, judging the time, then back at me. “We are leaving now.” He turns and walks off, giving me a few minutes alone with them.
We stand there, looking at each other. Reb’s stomach lets out a loud gurgle and we all laugh. For a minute it is like we are back in temple and no time has passed since our days scratching hieroglyphs in the sand. The three of us have been through much. Paser and Reb are not only my friends; they are my brothers.
“Let us go and get some food, Reb,” Paser says, his eyes meeting mine. We said our goodbye last night. “I am as ravenous as a lion.”
Reb nods. “Safe travels, Sesha.” The boys turn.
I walk toward where Pepi is unhitching the horses from the sled. He, too, has become an ally, one helping me reclaim the scroll, although perhaps for his own reasons. With his help, I will also see Ky again, my other brother, one I swore never to forsake or abandon.
The time has come to keep my word.
45
“WHY DID YOU TELL MY FRIENDS we leave for Thebes after you told me not to say anything?” I ask Pepi as we walk to the caravan.
“How else would I know how you did on your test?” He glances at me “Paser seemed most unsurprised at the announcement. He would not make a good spy.”
“No,” I agree. “He is too honest and good for that. This sticky concoction of deceit leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
“Sometimes the foulest-tasting medicines have the most beneficial effects,” Pepi says, sounding like Min. “If you do not believe in doing difficult things for the greater good, maybe we should discontinue your training when we are back from Thebes.”
“Because I failed yet another task?” The caravan comes into view. They are finishing up the loading, giving the donkeys their final drink of water and something to eat. “Though I said nothing of your own secret.”
“I appreciate that,” Pepi says, then sighs. “If your instincts told you to confide in your friend and you believed it the right thing to do, then I must also have faith you know what you’re doing.” He gives me an acknowledging smile. “I am aware trust goes both ways, Sesha.”
“Thank you,” I say, blinking. “You remind me of my father.” He, too, had believed that I, a young woman, could do great things, could make a difference, could save lives.
An odd expression crosses his face. “Your words honour me.”
We speak no more as we reach the organized chaos of the caravan, about to depart. Nefer is there and I climb onto her back, this time without a hand from Pepi. In all the tumult of the past few days, I never did get back on that horse. I suppose it can wait until our return. For we will return.
“Here,” he says, binding something around my leg. “A gift, to mark our first mission together.” I look down to see a plain yet well-made sheath. “For your blade,” he says. Wordlessly, I take my father’s obsidian knife from the bag at my side and slide it into the leather scabbard. It is a perfect fit.
“Thank you,” I say simply. Pepi’s gaze passes over me as if assessing whether I am ready. I sit higher in my seat, my shoulders going back. He gives a nod and firmly pats Nefer twice in quick succession. The sturdy donkey lets out a reassuring bray.
As if this was a signal, the leader of the caravan lets out his own ululating cry and we set off, Pepi walking alongside the donkey.
The sky blazes pink and gold as dusk creeps over the desert in the distance. Having taken my leave since the moment the chieftain commanded I retrieve the scroll for him, I do not look over my shoulder as we start out into Deshret, the Red Land. There is no sense in looking behind me as we leave the vivid colours and protection of the oasis, in debating if I do the right thing. There is only this moment, and I will live each one I am given to the fullest.
We reach the outskirts of Thebes three days later, sunburned, bedraggled, hungry, and thirsty, with sand in every crack and crevice of our bodies. But Pepi was right: the crossing was less harrowing than our first. We part ways with the caravan at the Nile. It heads north to Avaris, and we go south to Thebes. The men travelling with us were curious but respectful. Pepi told them he was taking his betrothed to visit her brother, who had been ill recently.
“The best lies are the ones that hold a degree of truth.” He tells me what I am fast learning, trying to pack in as much as he can about the particulars of his, and now my, profession. We went over our plan during the crossing, and now we take our final meal before putting it into action. We fill our bellies, and Nefer’s, with food provided to us by the villagers of a small farming community that lies just outside the city. The Festival of the Inundation is over, and people have more to share now that it does not all go to the palace, though sustenance is still sparse. The rains have also come, dampening some of the panic with regard to the harvest. Pharaoh and Queen Anat will have regained a little of their stability among the people, their godlike positions fortified by the apparent success of their festival.
“Did your mother train you as a spy?” I swallow some beer to rinse down the dry bread.
“Yes, it was a profession she passed along to me and my sister,” Pepi says. “She was a lover of knowledge and believed the more one knows, the better equipped one is. She thought information the most powerful weapon of all, and that those who control it control the world. Though knowledge does not necessarily equal wisdom,” he adds.
I blink. “You have a sister?”
“I did.” He turns his face away.
“I am sorry,” I say, and cannot prevent my next question from slipping out, though I am fairly certain of the answer. “And your mother?”
“Also gone.” Pepi’s tone is clipped.
“You have my sympathies,” I say quietly, and we sit there for a moment, eating our food. “I understand your mother’s love for learning. My father felt the same. He taught me everything he knew, and I learned much at temple and in my education.”
“You are blessed to have had access to that,” Pepi remarks in an offhand way.
His words make me defensive, and I wonder if he deliberately baits me. “I work hard.”
“There is no doubt about that. But hard work does not always guarantee success. If so, all the farmers in the fields would be as rich as the pharaoh.”
I know he means no offence, but feel slighted all the same. “Must I apologize for the circumstances of my birth?”
“No, but your father was physician to the pharaoh, and his father before that, and so you not only had the right to become a physician, but the means as well. We must be mindful of our privileges even if we did not ask for them. The circumstances of our birth come down to luck.” He takes another bite and chews, then swallows. “And the whims of the gods.”
“Who have smiled on you as well,” I point out. “Whether son or nephew, you are kin to the Hyksos king.”
“I am.” Pepi’s smile takes the sting out of his previous words. “I am aware of my privileges, but I, too, know education can level the sands some. If I were king, I would let anyone who wants to learn glyphs do so, regardless of their station. It is a gift I would love to give all my people.”
His words make me think of Amara’s warning, as I have so often these past few days. Focused on our plans to retrieve the scroll, Pepi and I spoke of little else during the crossing, and my questions come fast now, particularly the ones too sensitive to discuss in the caravan’s company. “Is this why you want the scroll?” I say. “Do you see yourself as King of the North?”
He shakes his head. “Even if I could convince the king I am his son, Yanassi would immediately challenge me for the throne. Despite any assurances that I am not interested in the position, it would not end well for one of us. And though I do not deny a treasure like this would impress my father, I seek the scroll to keep it from falling into the wrong hands, and because of the prophecy itself.”
“What does the prophecy say, exactly?” I say, eagerness causing my voice to rise in volume. Immediately I lower it, with a look around, but there is only us. “Will you not reveal the precise wording?”
“I have told you the gist of it,” Pepi says. He takes a drink, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. �
��Information and knowledge are empowering, but they can also be dangerous. Besides, oracles are notorious for speaking in riddles.”
“So, you are protecting me?” I gesture back at the desert, at the oasis out there somewhere, my movement encompassing everything we’ve been through since Reb, Paser, and I freed him. “Do you not think I’ve earned the right to know?”
He sighs, passing me the drink. “Perhaps you are not meant to know everything, young scribe.”
“Says who?” I say, feeling my cheeks flush. “You?”
“Says the one who spoke the prophecy. The oracle.”
“Does this oracle know everything?” Struggling to keep my temper, I gain a sudden insight into the frustrations of my friends and brother when I have kept something from them.
“Many things.”
“Does it know why your cousin left you in a pit?” I say on a notion, then take my own sip, steeling myself for a sharp retort.
Instead Pepi laughs loud, long, and freely. I realize it is the first time I’ve heard him do so. It is a surprisingly uplifting sound, and I feel myself grinning back, anger dissipating.
“Perhaps,” Pepi concedes finally, growing thoughtful. “Though when we arrived at the oasis, Yanassi assured me that he had believed me more than capable of finding a way out.”
So the chieftain had known Pepi was in there! I wonder if he has any inkling that the spy is his brother? Pepi doesn’t seem to think so, but it would explain much.
Pepi looks at me. “And I did escape, after all, thanks to you and your friends.”
“What if we had not come?” I say, putting the stopper back in the water container, wondering again how he landed in the hole in the first place. Pepi is a very good spy. He said on our first crossing that someone might have betrayed him. I wonder if he has any idea who. I suppose we should save something to talk about on our return to the oasis.
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