City of the Dead

by T. L. Higley

“And his daughter, was she with him?”

  Not me. Sen.

  “She did not come with him.”

  “Did he speak of the grand vizier? Tell you anything about the happenings at the palace?”

  “It may surprise you to learn we do not concern ourselves with happenings at the palace.”

  There came the sound of a blow and a crash.

  A whimper slipped from Layla, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Get up, peasant!” It was not the Nubian’s voice this time, and I strained to identify it.

  “He knows more than he says,” the voice said. “He is part of the rebellious sect that does not worship the great ennead of gods. They refuse to acknowledge that the Great Pharaoh, Beloved of Horus, is Ra on earth.”

  This religious babble was plenty to tell me that the man was a priest.

  “I care not who the man worships!” Axum said. “My only interest is in the grand vizier.”

  I lifted my eyes to the group huddled around me, expecting to see condemnation and fear. But their faces were a puzzle to me. Sadness and joy mingled.

  Another voice now shouted. “If the grand vizier is involved with these people, then they must also be your concern! It is clear that Hemiunu is responsible for the recent upheaval of our system of worship. He is trying to undermine all the beliefs we hold sacred. Perhaps you wish to see the Great Pharaoh bow down before this foreign god who allows no other gods to be worshiped!”

  I frowned. A former priest of On, obviously. Like Rashidi. Furious over the changes that had resulted in his dismissal. I remembered Rashidi’s anger when he confronted Khufu in the Great Hall.

  A child across the room asked a question of his father. We all turned, and the father covered his child’s mouth with his hand and lifted an apology with his eyes. And still, I did not see fear in any of them. Did they not realize that they survived only at the whim of a king who did not think them worth his attention? That if I were found here their destruction was guaranteed?

  Somehow I could see that they did know it. Facing the door that separated us from capture, each looked more like a parent who knows his child is about to do something foolish yet must let it happen to teach the child. Despite the ponderous complexity of Egypt’s religious order, were these simple people the keepers of true wisdom?

  Neferet eased away from me and I realized my grip on her shoulders had tightened. She touched my face and I saw concern pass over hers.

  “I must leave,” I whispered. Her eyes widened.

  I stood, and Sen’s brow furrowed. “I cannot stay,” I said to him. “I cannot involve you any further.” I moved toward the hidden door.

  Sen’s iron grip wrapped around my upper arm. He came behind me and put his mouth to my ear. “Think, Hemi. You leave now and you endanger all of these people.”

  I took a few breaths, trying to slow my heart.

  The voices outside the door moved away. Still we waited, frozen. Minutes later, the door slid aside. Hanif stepped in and closed the door behind him.

  “They are gone.” His thin face seemed to have aged.

  Sen released my arm.

  “Why, Hemi?” Neferet asked, jumping up to stand beside me. “Why must you leave?”

  “This is something I must do on my own. I must find the truth.” I turned to Sen. “I will not jeopardize her further.”

  Sen nodded but said, “You have involved us all now, and we will not turn our backs on you. What can we do?”

  I sighed and studied the closed door. “I am not sure what I can do. But somewhere out there are answers. And I cannot hide myself away.”

  I thought of Tamit, of Khufu, and of my brother. Which of them, even now, was in mortal danger?

  * * *

  I waited until nightfall to leave. Many of the people stayed to send me off, and as I stood at the door, I found it difficult to say goodbye, to go back out in the night and the unknown.

  Layla hugged me tightly, and when she pulled away, her warm brown eyes roamed my face. “Be careful, Hemi,” she said. “Do not fall back into the lie.” I wasn’t sure of her meaning, but I suddenly longed to stay and let her care for me.

  I then endured a multitude of hugs and shoulder slaps from well-wishers. I tried to study each face, to remember so that I would know them again if I saw them elsewhere, but my eyes were occupied with blinking away unfamiliar emotion.

  Neferet kept her distance, unwilling to say farewell. But then the people parted and looked her way, and she had no choice.

  “What will you do?” she said.

  “I am not certain. I must find a way to prove to Khufu that I am innocent. But when I last saw the king, his anger toward me was fierce. I dare not go back until I can show him the truth.”

  “Are you in danger?”

  “I am as guilty as any of us were, I am afraid.” I thought of Amunet, and of the way I left her body in the marsh. “Maybe more so.”

  Neferet lowered her eyes, and Sen stepped to my side. “I will go with you as far as my home,” he said, “and give you some things that may help you in your journey.” He turned to Neferet and kissed the top of her head. “Stay here until morning.” A look at Layla confirmed that she would make sure the girl was safe.

  Sen pushed ahead of me, through the hidden door and into the back room of the house. Neferet reached for my hand and squeezed it. I returned the grasp, gave her a quick smile, and followed her father.

  We slipped from the house carefully, watching the dark streets for late-night revelers. But the earlier rain had been enough to keep people indoors this night. I shivered. Leaving the People of the One felt like being stripped of something vital. I ran behind Sen, along the walls, through the back streets, until we reached his home.

  Within minutes, I was back out on the street, a pouch slung over my shoulder. Sen grasped both my arms warmly and looked into my eyes. “Take care, Grand Vizier,” he said. “Do not force me to give my daughter bad news.”

  “Thank you, Sen. For all your kindness. I will send word when I can.”

  And then we parted. I left him standing in the doorway of his home, and I fled through the back alleys once more, toward the gates of the village.

  Twice I passed someone lounging in a door frame. I kept my head down and hoped for the best.

  By the time I made my way out of the village and back out onto the desert path, the moon had risen, throwing a paltry light before me. I left the path quickly, moving eastward, closer to the edge of the floodplain, where a canal ran north toward the pyramid and the royal estate.

  My feet carried me swiftly toward the unknown. The water in the canal ran high from the day’s rain. I could hear it sloshing at its banks as I ran, and the sound kept me oriented. Somewhere to my left, an animal joined my run. It pawed the sand in time with my own feet and crashed through the scrubby bushes at the waterside. Was it better to stop? Was a jackal more likely to attack a running man?

  The workmen’s village faded away behind me, and the pyramid complex, the harbor, and the royal estate now filled my vision. I focused on the plateau above me. The gray clouds had broken apart, now drifting across the moon in shades of black and purple. The dark outline of the unfinished pyramid sliced through the clouds like a broken blade.

  My chest expanded in sharp and shallow breaths. I slowed my run and listened for the animal. I heard nothing but the water. A cool breeze blew on the dampness of my neck.

  Ahead, I could make out the small valley temple at the base of the pyramid complex. I tried to absorb the hard edges of temple and pyramid, to let the stone fill my veins and strengthen me for whatever lay ahead.

  I approached the royal estate along the wall that surrounded it and stopped before I reached the entrance. It was madness to go back inside after my escape with Neferet yesterday. I pulled Sen’s pouch from my shoulder and removed a long, full-braided wig and a robe to conceal my build. I hoped it was enough to keep the casual observer from recognizing me.

  Deep b
reaths.

  I slipped along the wall, head down, but then lifted my head and strolled through the estate entrance as though I belonged.

  The walls of the royal estate had been erected as protection from animals and from the sand that blew continually across the desert, but Egypt had few enemies that would cross the Red Lands to attack. And so the entrance was not guarded. I rounded the corner and moved quickly to the gardens that led the way from the entrance to the palace. Small reflecting pools, trees, and paths lined with palms and flowers made it easier to remain unseen.

  The palace was lit from inside, and as I drew close I could hear the lively twitter of conversation and the melodies of harem singers. Another feast? I tried to remember if today were a festival day.

  The Festival of Hapi is tomorrow. I had forgotten. Khufu loved the games and had established a day of competition and entertainment for nobles and laborers alike. And always, a feast was held the night before for those who lived on the royal estate.

  I leaned against a large sycamore, one of many that ringed the palace like a secondary wall. Beside me, I heard the croak of a frog and a small splash as it plopped into one of the pools. The evening air was unusually damp and close. Behind me somewhere the People of the One probably still met together in their pleasant hidden chamber. Ahead, the nobility feasted and drank and danced in the firelit Great Hall. I stood alone among the leafy greens and felt I belonged to neither of these two worlds. The sycamore’s bark reached out to snag my robe. I pulled away and a dead leaf crunched underfoot.

  Thick fingers grabbed my elbows from behind and held me fast.

  “Grand Vizier,” a deep voice grated against my ear. “We have missed you.”

  I half turned. “Axum. You are effective as always in hunting down your prey.”

  The man lowered his head. “Though I would much prefer to work for you, my lord, than against you.”

  I welcomed the tone of respect in his voice, like a man who has gone too long without. “I cannot find the truth from a cell, Axum.”

  His grip loosened and I faced him.

  “The king has set no higher task for me than apprehending you,” he said. “Though in truth he seems to have little more appetite for it than I.”

  I stared into the Nubian’s luminous eyes. “Trust your instincts, Axum. I have served at the king’s right hand for many years.”

  Axum crossed his arms and pulled on his lower lip. “I am not certain the king’s new advisor serves him so faithfully.”

  I frowned, inviting more.

  “Rashidi, the little priest,” Axum said. The name seemed distasteful to him. “He is ever present at the king’s side. Interpreting dreams, whispering advice.”

  “Rashidi.” I turned him over in my mind, trying to chase an elusive thread of thought.

  “It is my duty to drag you before the king now, Grand Vizier.”

  I returned his look. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

  Another look passed between us, one of men who have taken the true measure of each other. Then Axum nodded in silent agreement. He closed his eyes, lowered his head, and waited for me to disappear.

  I hurried for the temple. The robe Sen had given me was long on my legs, restricting my movements, yet I dared not remove it.

  My thoughts tumbled as I drew toward the temple, like a small boat pulled downriver by a current I could not control. The determination I had felt upon leaving the workmen’s village now grew into anger. I must have answers tonight.

  I approached the temple on silent feet and halted on the stone slab set in front of the door. I pressed my back against one of the massive carved columns that stood on either side. A fire had blazed to life inside the temple, then another. Rashidi was lighting the braziers. The flames threw wavering shadows on the walls and reached out to graze the column behind me.

  I heard someone coming from the direction of the harbor, and I pulled back into the darkness. Three men approached in quiet conversation. From their dress they appeared to be young priests, still in training. They crossed under the lintel and entered the temple. Solemn greetings were given and returned by Rashidi. I moved back to my position near the door.

  Within moments, a series of intonations drifted from inside the temple, low and unintelligible, that raised the hair on my neck. I crept to the edge of the doorway and set my cheek against the edge, watching with my right eye.

  The four men stood before an altar, where something had been sacrificed. Red blood ran from the stone and one of the young priests lit a fire. Smoke puffed in gray billows above their heads and hung there. One of them held two wooden sticks and he tapped them together in a slow rhythm while the others continued to moan. I pressed my cheek against the cold stone, vainly seeking some sort of comfort from its solidity. The moaning, the tapping, the blood and burning continued for some time. I grew dizzy from my careful position.

  At last Rashidi raised his voice above the rest, and they ceased their noise. “Tomorrow it shall be revealed that a great evil has been done, my sons,” he said.

  The others lifted their heads in attention.

  “They will understand that they have done wrong, and they will regret their actions. All will be made right at last.”

  The young men murmured in agreement.

  “I must know that you are ready to carry out your part,” Rashidi said. “That your hands are strong for your task, that you will not back down from what is asked of you.”

  Again, agreement was given.

  “You must strike quickly and all at once. This is important. You have the knives that I have given you?”

  I ground my cheek into the wall now, let it cause me pain in the hope that it would harden me.

  “We are ready to do the will of the gods, Rashidi,” one of the younger men said.

  I felt the fool for not seeing it sooner.

  Rashidi, who pushed me to investigate the murders. Ebo’s wife and her claim that a priest had told her to reveal that I had been paying off her husband. And I had seen the rage in his protestations before Khufu. Rashidi, who knew how to drug a man like an animal and how to slit the throat of an ox.

  Yes, Rashidi. Another piece of our past. The young man who had loved Amunet. The dismissed priest who had cause to hate me for taking away his position.

  Three young priests. Three more victims in Tamit, Khufu, and Ahmose. Then there would only be Rashidi and myself.

  “Ra will grant our efforts success, I am certain,” Rashidi now said. “He will not allow the evil to go unpunished.”

  He tossed some leaves of fragrant myrrh onto the fire. The flames popped and a shower of sparks lifted above their heads. A pungent aroma now filled the temple and reached out to the portico where I stood, teeth clenched and hands curled into fists at my side.

  I sensed that their meeting had drawn to a close and disappeared around the corner of the temple. I had learned all I needed about Rashidi’s three young assistants, but I would not let the priest go so easily. Before morning came, I intended to pry from him each of his many secrets.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Rashidi’s apprentices departed soon after. I remained hidden in the darkness and watched them drift away into the night. Rashidi remained inside.

  I returned to the entrance of the temple slowly and leaned into the doorway. The fire had burned down to embers now, casting a reddish glow along the walls. I did not see the little priest. I ventured farther into the doorway and inclined my ears.

  From deeper in the temple, I heard the sound of soft chanting.

  The valley temple served the workmen and royal estate while the pyramid complex was still under construction, but when all was complete this temple would be the location for Pharaoh’s mummification, and his body would proceed from here to the pyramid via the stone causeway that had already been partially built. I had not yet commissioned the walls and roof of the causeway to be completed, but the ramp itself led from the back of the temple up to the base of the pyramid, where the mortuary temple would
be built for the ongoing worship of the king when he became Ra.

  I circled to the back of the temple, scrambled up the rubble ramp upon which the causeway was built, and descended down to the back entrance, where a small chamber currently housed the statue of Ra. It was here that the priests would daily offer libations and sacrifices. I stood just inside the back entrance and listened again for Rashidi’s chant.

  The temple was silent, and I thought for a moment that perhaps he had left through the front while I was circling around. But then the low chant came again, very near. I stepped backward in surprise but managed to hold my ground, and I braced myself against the temple wall with one hand. In my other hand I held a pebble I’d picked up when climbing the causeway, and I grasped it now between thumb and forefinger. The focus helped me settle my fear.

  The wall here was carved with a relief of Anubis. Fitting. It occurred to me that Anubis was never depicted holding the shepherd’s crook of leadership, only the whiplike flail of punishment. Small comfort for those who awaited his judgment.

  From my vantage point I was not able to see the priest. It served no purpose to listen to his chant and the odd scraping that accompanied it, so I leaned in farther.

  I saw Rashidi in profile, working at something over a stone block. He paused a moment and set down an instrument. A long knife. Beside him, an oil lamp flared. He was adding oil. He bent back to his work.

  Sharpening. He scraped the blade against the stone again and again, continuing his low, monotone singing all the while. The smell of burnt flesh still filled my nostrils. A moment later he lifted a hunk of charred meat from the table where he worked. He wrapped his hand around the shaft of the knife and stabbed at the flesh. Then again, with more force. Again and again, until the meat hung from the bone in ragged tatters. But he was not satisfied, for he went back to his sharpening.

  Why would the priest be sharpening a knife at this hour, the night before he planned to take his revenge? I could think of only one reason.

  “Rashidi?”

  After the long minutes of silence, the voice that rang from the front of the temple nearly startled me into revealing myself. Fortunately it also surprised Rashidi, and the priest dropped the knife against the stone. He circled to the doorway quickly and moved into the antechamber.