"Yes, my lord," Moses affirmed, adding, "I however request to take the scribe, Khabo, with us."
"Us?" Ramesses asked in confusion, tilting his head.
"Neti and me," Moses replied. His words jolted Neti to attention, not having thought she would be included.
Ramesses looked at Neti, his brow furrowing as he asked, "You are also going?"
Neti glanced at Moses, before turning her gaze to Ramesses, nodding as she spoke, "Yes, my lord."
Ramesses turned a pointed gaze at Moses, who was quick to reply, "She understands Khabo better than I do, and he knows the trade routes these people follow."
"And you do not think he will try to deceive you?" Ramesses demanded.
"He has no reason to, my lord." Neti replied, causing both men to look at her. "Shabaka is his prince, and it is well-known that Nubians remain loyal to their own."
Ramesses remained silent for some time before nodding, "You have a point there, my child. I suggest you make the needed arrangements," Ramesses said, inclining his head toward Neti, "I will provide a guard for your home during your absence. Should this Ma-Nefer attempt anything in your private area, there will be someone to capture him."
"Thank you, my lord, but it will not really be needed. I do not have much of worth, and I will ask my father's friend will see to my affairs."
"What of Yani?" Moses was quick to question, his concern evident in his voice.
"I will send her and Desa to assist Suten-Anu, as I have done in the past. He enjoys her cooking."
Chapter Eight
As the sun lowered over the distant dune, Shabaka sank to the ground, eternally grateful for the end of the daily trek. Too stiff and sore to bother with carefully placing the crate he carried on the ground, he lowered his entire body to the warm, yielding sand. Every step had felt like one too many, his body screaming in objection as the day had seemed to last an eternity. The sun bearing mercilessly down on them, at times it had felt as if Ra was mocking them. His stomach burned. He could not remember when last he'd had something to eat and the water in his skin had long since been drunk.
He chanced a look around, hoping there would be a well nearby, which would allow him to drink and also fill his water skin, possibly even tricking his stomach into believing he had eaten something. However, all hope of such occurrence quickly dissipated when he saw the others hunker together, weighing how much water they had among them. Releasing a weary sigh, he allowed his head to drop to the sand as he closed his eyes. He tried to regulate his breathing, knowing it would conserve some of the moisture within his body, but not much. The muscles in his thighs twitched and he knew that soon they would spasm, rendering him stiff the following morning. They had traveled over several steep sand dunes, his legs often sinking to mid-calf depth. The hot, yielding sand especially taxed those carrying goods.
He heard some commotion among the others and turned his head. Opening his eyes he saw them approach, but one man stopped, uncertainly looking back at the others. They thought me dead' Shabaka thought as the man quickly turned and made his way back to the others.
They had suspiciously watched him throughout the afternoon. He had been aware of their gazes on him and their low murmurs, possibly waiting or haggling as to when the curse would take him. He had mumbled any of the chants he could remember, but he had no idea whether they were correct or if they were even helping. Chanting them kept thoughts of Neti close and made it possible to put one foot in front of the other, while trying to come up with a plan to escape.
All afternoon he had tried to establish where they could be and if there was a way he could leave something to point the way, if someone were following them. He knew they were heading east, toward the waters that marked the end of Egypt's borders. He knew that it took four days hard travel by camel to reach, however, he was uncertain how long they had been traveling, only that their day's travel did not equate to a full day's travel by camel. He had also never been farther east, but knew there were other lands and people who lived there.
He was well familiar with the desert, knew it to be a merciless place that quickly culled the weak and the weary. It was the one place you did not enter unless you knew which path you were about to take and where to rest. It was the only reason why he had not yet attempted to escape, even though it felt as if he could not move on. He had no intention of wandering in circles, eventually dying. Once they were closer to a city, he could attempt an escape. His thoughts for a moment shifted to the boy, and any possible consequences his actions might result in, but instead he felt a loathing rise. The whip wielder had several times throughout the day threatened him with whipping the boy, so much so that Shabaka had come to resent the boy. And although Shabaka would not wish harm or punishment on anyone undeserving of such, he detested the way the boy was used to manipulate his compliance.
When the threats no longer seemed to have the effect of speeding him, the man had stopped and allowed him to fall behind, especially after his companion had mumbled something about the curse possibly taking hold.
It had been then that Shabaka had played with the idea of pretending to succumb to the curse, however he doubted that he could put up a convincing enough act as to make them believe that the curse had taken him, aside from the fear that it might actually happen.
He again heard the crunch of sand, indicating someone's approach, and opened his eyes only to see the boy hesitantly approach him. He stopped a few paces away and tossed several oblong objects at him. A few of them hit him and he was about to object, but the fear in the boy's eyes stilled his tongue. He looked at the oblong objects scattered around him, recognizing them as dates. The boy tossed another handful, which apparently equated to the total of his meal, before stepping back and retreating to the others.
With effort, he sat up and reached for the dates, gathering them together before placing them on the wooden crate. There were nine in total, most coated with sand. He dusted them off as best he could and again placed them on the crate. He did not particularly enjoy dates; they had an aftertaste he could not get accustomed to. Although there were not enough of them to fill his stomach, they would allow him to sleep some and possibly provide him with the necessary energy for the next leg of the journey.
He placed the first date in his mouth and cringed at the crunch of sand that followed his bite. He chewed just enough to sufficiently bruise them, making it possible to swallow. His dry throat protested the action of the dates scraping along the sides, making him cringe with pain. He swallowed again, forcing the food down, grinding his teeth as the lump progressed down his throat, leaving a burning trail as it moved to his stomach.
He allowed his thoughts to drift to the evenings he had spent with Neti, Moses, and Yani, remembering the numerous flavored flatbreads, roasted meat, and beer they had shared together. What he would not give for one of Yani's flatbreads, a roasted dove, and beer—the beer possibly more desirable than the others. Steeling himself, he placed another date in his mouth and hesitantly bit down on it, knowing the dusting of fine sand would not harm him. It did, however, make eating the dates a chore.
His gaze shifted to the crate where the remaining dates lay. For possibly the hundredth time that day he wondered what it held. He surmised that it most likely held a collection of grave artifacts, not just one, for it felt too heavy to be just one. The weight was overwhelming with every step he had taken.
A cool breeze blew over him, one that earlier in the day he would have welcomed. On his heated skin, and with the darkening skyline, it only served as a reminder that the seasonal cold was on its way. He looked around him for the best place to hollow out a sleeping area, for he would not have the shared warmth of others. He even considered covering his body with sand, as it would help keep him warm in the night.
He looked over at where the others sat, knowing he should ask them for water. From their appearances, he knew they would be unwilling to share what little they had.
Once he had finished his dates, he shifted onto his knees while
his body protested the action. He knew it to be for the best when he cupped his hands and started to dig in the sand, as it would not take long to cover his body and the action would act as some protection.
In the morning, he would again try to establish exactly how far they were from either Thebes or the coast. The air would change once they approached the water.
* * *
Early the following morning, Neti stood watching as Moses and Khabo reviewed the goods being fastened to two camels they were to take. Moses had pushed aside several of the supplies the guards had brought for consideration.
Neti had remained silent for most of the previous evening, while Moses and Khabo discussed their various options. Khabo had been more cooperative than before and was more akin to the man she had come to know. Moses had been speculative about Yani and Khabo's interaction, the ease with which they spoke with each other, because Yani was not as reserved as she usually was. Neti had tried to assure him that he had little to concern himself with; he, however, remained skeptical.
Both the changes of guards stationed at the northern and southern gates had confirmed that none of the traders or journeymen who had left the city had any Nubians with them. With the festival and pending market day, this also meant that few people had departed the city.
Their only option was east. Neti swallowed at the lump in her throat, for just the memory of Khabo and Moses' conversation left her feeling uneasy. Khabo had at first remained silent when they disclosed the guards' findings to him, to which he had shaken his head and harshly exclaimed something in his native tongue, after which he had looked at her in apology. Not having known what he had said, she had shrugged her shoulders and he had nodded his head in apology.
He had then turned to Moses and explained to him that Ma-Nefer could possibly not be seeking financial compensation for Shabaka, but would rather humiliate Shabaka in the worst possible way—by selling him as a carnality servant, not that she had any idea what that meant. She had gathered from Moses' response that it was something far worse than working as a slave laborer. Moses had set his resolve and said that they would travel east as fast as they possibly could, resting only when they needed to.
Suten-Anu, Yani, and Desa had accompanied them for the morning to see them on their journey, the old scribe watching as Moses and Khabo loaded the last of the goods.
Desa finally held out what looked like a length of heavy fabric. Neti looked at it and then at Desa, asking, "What is this?"
"It is a djellaba," the woman said, opening the hooded garment. "It will protect your skin from the sun."
Neti reached out to stroke the fabric. It was thicker than anything she owned, thus she knew it would keep her warm during the evenings, but it would be too hot to wear during the day, and she replied, "I will fall to the ground from too much heat if I wear that."
Desa was quick to shake her head, "It is open lower down, you wear it over your clothes, it keeps the sun from your skin, it is better than walking with your skin exposed. Your skin is not good for the sun, it will burn with blisters," Desa said, urging Neti to take the garment from her.
Neti hesitantly pulled it on over her slip, surprised at how comfortably it fell into place. Desa in turn reached past her shoulders and pulled the hood up over her wig. "Other than keeping the sun from your skin, it will protect your clothes from too much dust."
"Where did you get it?" Neti asked, stroking the fabric.
Desa for a moment looked uncertain, but reluctantly answered, "There were lengths of cloth in a storage room, so I have been making them. Yani has been busy with the house . . . It is something I have always enjoyed doing, and they also make for good trading."
Neti tilted her head and asked, "Did you think I would be angry?"
Desa looked past her before nodding her head.
Neti reached out and placed her hand on the woman's shoulder, "You have a good heart, Desa."
The woman lowered her head but remained silent.
"While I am away, have Yani show you one of the bandages I use. I have not had time to make any lately and will soon need some again. You can make those and some more of these," Neti said, gesturing to the djellaba, "and see if you can barter them at the market for enough to buy more cloth."
Neti turned her attention to Yani, who came toward her with a bulging satchel.
"I would rather give this to you than Moses," she said, handing Neti the satchel, although Neti did not miss the sharp look she gave Desa.
Neti took the satchel from her and opened it. The familiar and comforting smell of flatbread greeted her. She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. "Thank you, Yani," Neti said, "but you will have to give this to Moses. I think he is the only one who understands how those camels can carry the load.
Yani nodded her head and took the satchel from Neti.
Neti stepped past Desa and drew Suten-Anu to one side, quickly discussing matters, before finally joining Moses and Khabo, just as Ramesses stepped into the courtyard.
He looked over the group and called several guards closer. Moses looked at the man and was about to object when Ramesses held up his hand.
"They will accompany you to where the desert starts. Most travelers are robed just as they enter the desert."
Moses started to say something but instead remained silent, nodding his head in reply.
"Besides, it would make it difficult to identify you, especially if someone were on the lookout," Ramesses reasoned.
"Which is possible," Khabo said, then turned to look at Moses, "such information could make for a handsome trade."
"They can accompany us until the sun reaches its height and we need to rest," Moses said turning his gaze skyward, the sun having just cleared the courtyard wall.
Chapter Nine
Neti pulled the fabric hood farther over her eyes, thankful for Desa's foresight. They had only recently reached the edge of the desert and the guards were still traveling with them, although they had distanced some since having exited the valley.
The sand was not yet deep enough to slow them down, although the glare from the sun and the heat rising from the ground cast mirages in the distance. The uniformity of the landscape was disconcerting, for she had no idea as to where they were going. Even looking back, the river valley was well beyond the horizon. She had never before needed to cross the desert, her experience being limited to the trips she had taken with her father, to the west bank, when they had needed to tend to men killed in the quarries. Those paths were familiar to her; she knew the landmarks, where the vast bareness of the desert overwhelmed her.
Moses and Khabo seemed to be following some invisible trail, yet how they determined it she remained uncertain. The sun was already approaching its zenith and would soon enough mark the end of the morning's journey, the heat of the day needing to dissipate and the sun needing to lower on the horizon to prevent them from moving in the wrong direction before they continued.
"There!" one of the guards exclaimed, pointing to a pile in the sand.
Even from the distance they were, Neti could make out the remains of a body, although badly disfigured, the jackals and hyena having already picked most of the flesh from the bones. They came to a halt next to it and Neti glanced over it, reciting a chant as she lowered herself next to it. Moses and Khabo patiently waited for her to finish her assessment, while the guards seemed reluctant to remain within the immediate area.
"I cannot tell you why he died," Neti finally said, rising, "but he is Egyptian."
"How do you know?" one guard asked, chancing a glance.
"He has paler skin than the Nubians," Neti said, pointing to a piece of skin.
"That's not to say he is not a Hebrew," another said.
Neti looked toward Moses and then to one of the guards before speaking, "Hebrews do not shave, do you see any hair?" she asked, gesturing to the area around the body.
The guard looked and then shook his head.
"We will move off some distance and wait for th
e heat to pass," Moses said, turning to the main guard accompanying them. "You can then return to Thebes."
The guard made to speak, although Moses lifted his hand in order to silence him. "We will continue from here. You will only draw attention to us when we approach the watering wells,"
The guard finally nodded in agreement.
* * *
Once Neti had settled in the shade of one of the camels, Khabo approached her, "You think it will haunt the desert?" he asked, indicating the body.
"I cannot determine the cause of death and his heart was taken, possibly by a jackal," Neti replied looking in the direction of the body, her heart feeling heavy for whomever it was. "We, embalmers, believe that if a jackal eats the heart of a human, it was not pure enough to give a good account of its owner during the weighing of the heart, thus the soul has been banished."
"And you believe this to be so?"
"If not, then we will be haunted," Neti flatly replied.
Khabo remained with her and Neti could sense his unease and finally tilted her head, asking, "What is it, Khabo?"
"Thoth?"
Neti felt her heart tighten at the name and swallowed before asking, "What about Thoth?"
"Is it true that he killed those people? Everyone said he did it, but I don't believe it—not Thoth."
Neti looked at him for several moments before finally answering, "I wish I could tell you different, for I know you treated Thoth as if he was your son, but it was him."
Neti watched as Khabo lowered his head as he spoke, "So that is why Shabaka killed him?" His voice was strained.
It caused Neti to wonder whether bringing him to help them find Shabaka was indeed a good idea. She had tried to forget that night, however, she could not let the man think ill of Shabaka's deeds. "Shabaka did not intend to kill him," Neti said, and watched as the man looked at her, unbelievingly.
"Thoth attacked Shabaka; he broke Shabaka's arm. He had murder on his mind and spoke of gods. He was not well, Khabo, and I think Ma-Nefer knew this. Shabaka only defended himself."
Secret of the 7th Scarab (The Mummifier's Daughter Series Book 4) Page 8