“Another thing I found out about you, Cadmus,” Jonas said, stepping up to the Egyptian. “No one by your name checks out in Alexandria. Or in the Cadmus family tree. I even tried phoning. They don’t know you. You aren’t who you say you are.”
Rebecca demanded, “Who are you really?”
His response was rapid. He grabbed Rebecca and Amy by their necks and shoved them into the bedroom from which he had emerged. Jonas rushed to intervene but was too late. Sharif slammed and locked the door. It locks from the outside? How has he engineered that? And why? Rebecca heard him telling Jonas and Raven that they would leave or he would call security. It had happened so fast, there was no time to think of an alternate plan. Jonas must have tried to punch Sharif, because Rebecca heard a loud and violent struggle and then a scuffle in the hallway. The door shut with a loud retort. Jonas must have been locked out. With any luck, he’d head straight for the police with Raven.
#
Rebecca began to feel that familiar lightheadedness here in the worst possible of places. Sharif ’s designer colors — sienna red, muted cinnamon, mustard yellow — blended into one kaleidoscopic dreamscape. One look out of the high-rise window and she began to feel she was suspended in midair. Amy looked up at her and Rebecca could offer nothing in response.
“How did you know I was coming here?” Amy yelled through the door, indignant at the ruse Sharif pulled on her.
“You have a blog, yes?” He was speaking close to the door jamb.
“Oh, no.”
“Yes, I’m afraid you kids forget that anyone can read those things. I simply entered an alert for your name, and the blog came up with all your daily rants and plans.”
Rebecca focused hard to avoid blanking out. More than anything, she wanted to be out in the void she knew so well. But she had to stay with reality. Amy gave away her trip without a thought to foul play. It still didn’t make it right for Sharif to intrude.
But she drifted now. She imagined she heard Sharif pouring a glass of wine and speaking to Lenore, but really he addressed Rebecca.
“We can call Randy with a fake injury,” he said. “Or if she doesn’t agree, we can create a real one.”
Rebecca felt her eyes pop wide open as she came awake. What kind of monster is he? He’d actually hurt me? This is the guy who says he’s in love with me?
She tried to argue with him and thought she was speaking, but the door was in the way.
“When we searched the Internet for you, all we could find were some vague stories about gun-running and cocaine shipments,” she said, in a haze. “Is that what you’re doing here in the U.S.? And what about me? What the hell do you want with me?”
“I told you,” he said. “I want to bring you back to Alexandria and make you a world-famous star.”
No, they weren’t talking. Amy was staring at her as if she were mad. Rebecca realized she must be mumbling to herself.
Then she did hear Sharif, loud and clear, bellowing through the door, “You will have tomorrow night. The dance critic from the New York Times, Christina Spitzer, will be coming to review the show. So you’ll get your New York notice. I wouldn’t worry about that. So, get some sleep, girls.”
Woozy or not, Rebecca was damned if she was going to stay the night in Sharif ’s domain. She needed to be at her home with Amy. She looked at the opulent bedroom with a canopy bed next to a balcony that seemed to step off into the stars. Off to the back, a lavish bathroom invited them. Amy began to let tears wash down her cheeks. Rebecca could do nothing to assuage her trauma.
“We’ll get help,” Rebecca said. “Jonas will know what to do.” But before she could do any more, she took another look at the stars outside, the world collapsed, and she fell onto the bed. “If only I wasn’t feeling so groggy.” She rolled over to look at Amy, who trembled as if she were about to collapse, too. Rebecca tried to say more, to apologize for not defeating the beast Sharif, but all strength had left her.
Then the curtain fell, and she hovered in a black hole in space.
Chapter Twenty-two
Around a glowing fire in a farmer’s field, Neferet sat with a few priests she could trust, three of Kamose’s spies, three soldiers and the army captain. They had been there since Ra departed from the sky, all struggling to come up with a plan to retrieve Deena and arrest Zayem.
“He’s been seen with foreigners, even before the Heb Sed festival,” a spy, a slight boy from the village, said. “We followed him at night and saw he bedded down over there,” he pointed across the Nile toward the western bank.
“Near the tombs?” Neferet said, feeling a chill. On the other side of the Nile lay the Valley of the Kings and tomb after tomb of mummies and gold. “There’s no one there but the Ba, the spirits — and thieves.”
“It seems to be the company he likes to keep,” the captain said. He held his mouth in grim line and traced patterns on the ground with a stick.
“The foreigners were Hyksos,” the young snoop continued. “He’d sleep out there and spend the days with them sneaking around the city of Wast. He followed you a lot,” he said to Neferet. Then, overcome with his too familiar speech, he ended his report with a series of red-faced, low bows. Neferet favored him with a tolerant smile and signaled that he may stop.
“Conspiring with the enemy. Great behavior for a prince,” Neferet said, considering the boy’s information. And with the enemies of my beloved. Distracted, she studied the captain’s drawings and realized they weren’t just idle pictures on the ground. They comprised a battle plan. “What are you contemplating, my captain?”
He grunted and sat back on his heels. “The major tombs are up here,” he indicated with a stick. “They camped down here. It’s desolate, and the jackals can be vicious, so I’m not sure how far from the Great River Zayem dared to go. It’s likely he nestled right here, “ he indicated a little valley next to the southernmost tomb, which men still hollowed out each day. “That’s likely where he is now.”
“With Deena?” Neferet asked, eyes blurring a bit with tears.
“Yes, especially if he has a captive, he’s going to stay close to a populated area away from the wild animals, even if the people in question are tomb workers or robbers.”
Neferet thought of the danger Deena was in and asked the boy if there were any Hittites in Zayem’s motley group of renegades. He shook his head. So, Deena, who could only spoke the tongue of Kemet in limited fashion, suffered mute and powerless in this company of foreigners. Who knows how they were treating her right now? Certainly, Zayem would not be protecting her honor.
“Are we going to go and get them?” the boy said, eyes afire with the anticipation of a real military mission.
The captain and Neferet nodded at the same moment. The captain pointed out the importance of keeping the hostage alive, so he insisted on using the advantage of surprise. Neferet stressed that Zayem not be killed, for he must stand before the court of Ma’at for his misdeeds.
Neferet looked toward the gloomy western land, still red from the sunset, and tried to imagine what it felt like plodding around there at night. The fiery landscape loomed forbidding enough during the day with its rocky caverns and hidden scorpions and snakes. However, the captain knew the territory and would take them along a safe route. She knew he cared, for he remained one of Kamose’s best friends. Certainly, if they caught Zayem’s unruly bunch, the soldier might be able to get some information from them about the roughs Kamose was fighting in the North.
The group broke up, with plans to meet at sunset the next day. The captain didn’t want Neferet to struggle along on the mission, but she insisted her duty required her to bring Deena home. She doubted that Deena would trust anyone else. The captain agreed to her logic with a sharp nod of the head. The boy would bring supplies, and two priests would accompany them, armed with a great deal more than amulets. Nareema agreed to stay in the city in case any word reached her there about Deena. The other two spies would remain at court, gathering information on Za
yem.
The fire guttered out, and the group picked their way back to the civilized streets of Wast.
#
Dressed in old clothes, Neferet set out from the back entrance to the temple, making her way along the dark walls of Karnak until she reached the army captain, who stood alert where the vast structure met the road. He approved of her dressed-down disguise and gestured for her to cover her hair with a head cloth.
“Flies on the river,” he explained between immobile lips.
They moved on toward the Nile. Each step of the way, they picked up another traveler, a priest here, a guard there, until the full retinue met the boy spy who waited at the dock. All were armed with knives or spears yet kept their weapons well hidden. The army captain bore a fearsome spear and a well-crafted set of bow and arrows. As the light went down across the river, they took a ferryboat to the western shore, paying the boatman twice his usual fare in exchange for his silence about their odd trip. No one went west at sundown, even to bury a mummy.
Neferet hadn’t been to the Valley of the Kings since her grandmother was interred in the family tomb years ago. The ceremony had a somber but elegant tone. After the priests placed the mummy in the golden sarcophagus, the group ate a ritual funeral meal at the gates of the tomb, then broke their dishes and threw them into a pit near the entrance. Workers covered up the debris. Although only ten years old, Neferet felt the majesty of the place, with its sheer cliffs for walls and bright sunlight bathing the area in heat. She knew from here, her grandmother’s Ba would make its way to the stars.
At the far shore, Neferet stepped into the marshy land and made her way with the others to the paved road that led to the tombs. The captain instructed them to stay on the pathway until he gestured toward Zayem’s hiding spot. The boy skipped ahead of the rest, and a priest ran to fetch the overexcited lad. Staying together and not drawing attention was of utmost importance.
The tombs lay toward the setting sun, radiating the heat of the day back into the air. As the sky goddess stretched her body across the sky, filling the world with stars and dreams, the unfinished tombs became darker and less inviting. In the red light, there were hints of the artwork and statuary within. As night fell, they merely looked like ugly gaps in a beggar’s mouth of foul teeth.
They marched on, and the tombs rose up closer to them. Neferet recognized the pathway to her father’s future resting place. Workers had started on it several years ago and now were painting the interior. She wondered with a sick feeling if the workers had been stepping up their preparations. At Heb Sed, he shone as the picture of good health. Her father couldn’t be losing his grip on life thanks to Meryt, could he? The thought of losing him gave Neferet a bad twinge in her heart. She had a mental image of screeching Meryt burning into the back of her mind. She knew she’d never be that kind of queen.
The captain interrupted her thoughts by gesturing toward a pebble-strewn road to the south. He gestured that they all remain silent as they picked their way between the stones and gravel with their papyrus sandals. Neferet guessed they were as quiet as her cat Mau-mau.
With a bump, she almost ran into the boy, who froze into place at the head of the group.
“What are you hearing?” the captain whispered.
“Voices of men, but they are not in the place you showed us,” the boy said, looking around, wildness in his eyes. “Where are they?” Everyone stood by without moving as he used his senses to ferret out their quarry.
He sniffed the air and a disturbed look crossed his features.
“The tomb, over that way,” they looked over at a burial chamber, just begun, near the edge of the Valley of the Kings. “They are in there.”
In a tomb? What kind of people were they? Neferet stepped forward and peered at the rock-cut walls. She saw writing carved near the door but couldn’t read it at such a distance.
“I’m going to sneak over there and find out what that says,” she told the boy. The soldier gave her a grim look but didn’t stop her. She slipped once on some sliding stones but arrived at the chamber entrance in a few minutes. She could hear voices inside, one of them female. On the right of the entrance she read the various names of Zayem, prince of Egypt, son of Meryt, the Great Wife. The characters all were contained within a cartouche, although Neferet questioned whether Zayem was truly royal at all.
So, he’s started his own tomb already, Neferet thought. He must have great plans for his magnificent future if he thinks he needs to begin this now. Then she stopped as she recognized Deena’s voice calling: “Stop. Leave me.” Then a muffled shriek echoed through the caverns, and the voice went quiet. Neferet’s hair tingled, and she crept back to her friends on the road.
She pulled the captain aside.
“It’s Zayem’s tomb, barely carved out,” she said, still puffing from her climb over the rocks. “They’ve got Deena in there ... crying out. How are we going to get her out of there?”
“In a tomb that’s being built, usually there are two exits, so the workers don’t get trapped in a possible collapse,” the captain said, sizing up the rock chamber with his eyes. “I think we should send a couple of the men over the top to look for the secondary entrance. You and I will make our way as close as we dare through the front door.”
“What if they see us?”
“Oh, they will, eventually. But I’m hoping they will be surrounded by that time. It’s essential that Deena see you, so I’ll let you know when to call for her.”
He gathered the rest of the crew and sent the priests, soldiers and spies over the top of the excavation area. Then he and Neferet moved at an angle toward the front door. To move in head-on would mean they would be seen too soon, he explained. Neferet followed in his footsteps, stepping around the bigger rocks and trying not to slip on loose gravel. She wondered about the snakes but reminded herself that they went into dark crevices to sleep at night.
As she walked, she noticed the moon nearing full, giving them ample light — but also affording Zayem’s men the same advantage.
A strangled cry came up from the South, and Neferet saw one of her men falling from the top of the tomb to the rocky floor. He had a knife embedded in his chest. Before she could cry out, Zayem’s toughs fanned out along the top of the tomb and began attacking Neferet’s retinue. She almost screamed, but the captain pulled her right to his side under an overhanging rock. He gestured for her to keep quiet.
Furious fighting ensued overhead, and Neferet’s men gave it their all. Spears flew and many of Zayem’s men fell. When the scuffling stopped, the captain peeked over the top of the sandstone for a fraction of a second and then slipped back down with a troubled look on his face.
“They are all over,” he said. “We’re completely outnumbered. I think they’ve killed three of our men. The rest are running away as we speak. At least, my soldiers fought to the death.”
Neferet tore at her raggedy clothes. All her thoughts were on Deena. If she couldn’t rely on her helpers to get Deena out, she would have to do it herself.
“Then I’m going in.”
“No, stop,” the captain said, trying to pull her back. The rag he held onto ripped, and she went rushing forward into the mouth of the fresh-cut tomb.
#
“Neferet, my darling. How well I know you,” Zayem said the minute she popped into view. He was sitting in a semicircle with rough, bearded men. Deena, tied at the wrists, sat in the middle. Gagged, she still managed a squeal when she saw Neferet. “I knew you’d fall for the bait. You always did as a child. I’d take a toy, and you’d jump and leap to get it back. You never gave up.”
And you never stopped stealing my things. She stopped to assess her situation. There was no sign that the captain was behind her, but she assumed he waited at the door, listening. Zayem had five men with him. She could count on no one from her group alive or still at the scene.
“I have come for my friend Deena.”
“How charming. The life of a slave is so important to
you.”
“She’s not a slave. She’s my friend. I released her from servitude, and she works in my household as a free woman.”
“Sad, isn’t it? Now she’s a slave again.”
“What are you talking about?”
Zayem sighed and got to his feet. He signaled that his gang should stay seated. He opened his arms as if in welcome.
“Don’t you see? Now that we are to be married, we share property, and Deena comes with the bargain.”
Neferet felt her face turn a fierce color as anger filled every one of her pores. She raced at Zayem to slap him, but he caught her arm and laughed.
“Hot blood. You always had that.” He dropped her arm and looked her over. “Even dressed like a hag, you incite my desire.” Neferet backed away from him with birdlike steps. He yawned. “But we’re already had our fun, haven’t we, boys?” The group grunted its approval.
Deena, her clothing all rumpled and torn, stared at the floor. Neferet tore at her rags and screamed, while Zayem laughed. She knew the time had come for some action but could think of nothing to do.
“I don’t need a taste of you, darling,” he said, touching her chin with a filthy finger. “I’ve already had it.” Neferet remembered Amun coming to life and covered her eyes. “Besides, when we are married, I’ll have you every night.”
“What makes you think we will be married? My father has agreed that I may choose Kamose.”
Zayem snickered. “Why do you think Kamose was sent to the border? Guess who planted that little idea in Mother’s head?”
Kamose! She had wondered if he was on a real war mission or sent on a purposeless errand. She tipped her head up at a jaunty angle.
“You’ll never get me to marry you.”
“When your precious daddy is gone, in, say, two or three weeks, you’ll do as I tell you, because you won’t have any other option,” Zayem said. “Even the Grand Vizier won’t be of much help to you. I pay him too much for that.”
THE GOD'S WIFE Page 22