The guards hustled the pair to a small tent close by, shoving them rudely inside. The enclosure was empty, although after a few minutes the serving girl brought a small water skin and a bowl of dried fruit. Having finished efficiently binding the small cut on her wrist with a strip torn from the side seam of her cloak, Nima sank cross-legged on the floor, munching a fig. Kamin paced restlessly. She patted the bare earth next to her. “Come sit, conserve your energy.”
He paused for a second, eyeing her with a frown. “I’m strongly tempted to escape right now, while they’re preoccupied setting up their camp.”
“Leaving me behind?” Nima offered him a fig. “I swore a blood oath, remember? There’s no debt between us, soldier. If you think you’ll do better on your own, then don’t fret over me. For your information, I do intend to win the game, gods willing.”
“I gave my word too.” He took the fruit, chewing slowly. “Of course I wouldn’t abandon you. But to have everything balancing on a game of senet—”
“What is life itself but a game of senet?” she said philosophically. “He wasn’t going to let us go. I think he knows we’re worth something to the enemy, so I took the only chance I saw.”
“He should abide by his blood oath,” Kamin agreed. “If you win.” He brought her the water and sat, pulling Nima to lean against him. “You did maneuver him quite cleverly, I’ll grant you that.”
She grinned, taking another fig. “Now if I can do the same on the senet board.”
***
After sunset, the guards escorted Nima and Kamin to the main campfire, around which the majority of the caravan crew and paying passengers had gathered. Ptahnetamun sat on a blue and gold-striped cushion atop a lion-footed stool in the center of the crowd, with the senet board open on a low table in front of him. Rising at their approach, he gestured to the matching stool across from him. “Will you be seated, Lady Nima?”
As she sank onto the slightly padded seat, the servant girl came forward from the rear of the tent, carrying a wine decanter and mugs on a wooden tray. With a flourish, their host poured. “I’ve broken out some of the finest wine from my cargo, the special stock rated as three-times-good, in honor of our high-stakes wager. What the tax collectors don’t know, won’t trouble them. Can’t tax what doesn’t exist, eh?” With a wink, he handed her a mug brimming with wine. “A toast, to our mutual enjoyment of the game.”
Nima tapped his mug with hers and drank deeply. Kamin took a place behind her, wishing for the thousandth time that he could have devised another way out of this situation for them both. I hope she realizes he’s trying to get her drunk, no matter how prized a vintage this wine may be. His heart sank as he remembered her stating on the first night of freedom that she’d no head for wine.
“We’ll throw to see who goes first,” Ptahnetamun announced. “Each white side showing counts as one point.”
“Plus, the extra point if all four sides come up white.” Nima nodded, taking one of the four painted throwing sticks in her hand, turning it as if admiring the intricate floral paintings enameled on the glossy black side. Kamin hoped she was actually gauging the weight. Gathering the other three sticks now, rubbing them together against her palms a few times, she cast them on the table.
Three black sides, one white. Kamin heard furious wagering going on in the crowd around them, steep odds against Nima winning. Hardly encouraging.
Ptahnetamun cast three white sides, one black, winning the honor of going first since he’d scored three points to her one. Selecting the taller black pawns, he set them on the first five squares.
Kamin looked at the board, stark obsidian and iridescent mother of pearl set into ebony wood, the colors alternating, gleaming in the firelight. Hieroglyphics and symbols had been etched in gold on certain especially significant squares. Thirty squares in three long rows, five pawns for each player. Had his life ever rested on such a flimsy hope? At least in battle he was master of his own fate, wielding sword and shield, his brother soldiers to each side. Here he was relying, yet again, on Nima—a dancer, not a warrior. Why did I allow myself to be placed in this position, like one of the pawns in front of me?
Someone passed him a mug of wine, and he drank deeply, carelessly. Because no matter what I said an hour ago in the tent, I’d never leave her. He owed her for rescuing him from the Hyksos camp. Additionally, this brave, smart woman was gaining an ever-growing space in his heart. His brother warriors would laugh themselves sick at the idea of him falling for a dancer. Glancing at the sky, Kamin saw a highly unseasonal flash of lightning skipping through the clouds in the distance. Thunder rumbled as Ptahnetamun made his first throw, advancing one pawn onto the fifteenth square. Marked with a golden ankh, this was the gateway to the game.
Kamin sent Horus a silent prayer to watch over Nima, although in truth his patron wasn’t known to be intimately involved with senet. Or women. Spilling a bit of the wine as a sacrifice, he hoped Nuit, goddess of the night sky, might find herself intrigued by the game and favor Nima as a fellow female. Or maybe Renenutet, given the amulet Nima wears. The Snake Goddess is said to have a taste for fine wine.
This had to be an ancient board, looted from some tomb of the earliest pharaohs perhaps. There was a half-obliterated cartouche on the side closest to him. Who knew how Ptahnetamun had come into possession of such a treasure? Fit for a pharaoh, this set. Maybe the board and pawns carried magic along with the weight of the ages. Perhaps his prayers would do some good. I certainly can’t help Nima in any other way right now.
Nima threw all black sides, forfeiting the turn. Grinning, her opponent swept the painted sticks up and blew gently on them. “This may be a short game, lady. Perhaps I should send the serving girls to prepare my bed for us now.”
“We’re a long way from reaching the final five squares, either of us,” Nima answered, her face calm, unconcerned. Raising one eyebrow, she sipped at her wine. “Are you going to throw sticks or talk?”
For answer he tossed the counters on the table, coming up all white sides, garnering five points total. Pondering strategy for a moment, he advanced the first pawn off the ankh, moving three spaces with it before shifting his second pawn to the gateway space. Nima threw the same score and got her first pawn onto the board, sharing the ankh space with Ptahnetamun’s as the rules allowed, using up two points. Rapidly, she tapped her white, round pawn across the next three spaces, however, sending his second pawn back into limbo as she arrived on the same square.
Frowning, the caravan master made quick work of his toss, two black, two white sides, banishing her single gleaming mother-of-pearl pawn to the staging area of the board again.
Nima got all white on the next throw, earning an extra point. She put two pawns on the main portion of the board, saying as she did so, “Did you know these game pieces are sometimes known as dancers? And as I am a dancer by trade, good luck for me.”
“Now you tell me,” Ptahnetamun grunted, contemplating his next move. Clearly, he wasn’t as yet impressed with her as an opponent.
They battled on, each finally getting all their pawns onto the board but then advancing, falling back, regaining ground or suffering a loss as dictated by the throw of the sticks. As closely as he was watching, Kamin couldn’t decide whether the sticks were cheats or not. Certainly the white sides seemed to be falling to Nima’s advantage now as often as Ptahnetamun’s, much to the latter’s displeasure. Nima kept up a light chatter, sipped her wine, seeming unfazed by any temporary setback. She was first to send one pawn all the way through, even past the last five special squares, throwing a two as needed to get her marker out of the House of Re, square number twenty-nine, and safely into the Afterlife. Swearing loudly at her small victory, the caravan master managed to capture her fifth pawn with a victorious roar, sending the game piece back to square fifteen, the House of Rebirth. There the iridescent pawn sat in lonely splendor, obscuring the golden ankh symbol. Doomed to restart its journey through the phases of the game, the white piece seem
ed to offer no threat to any of Ptahnetamun’s pieces.
Kamin felt a cold wind blow over him as Ptahnetamun advanced his next three pawns unscathed off the board, while Nima experienced a crushing lack of high-scoring throws. Kamin knew the man was cheating, had seen him miscount at least twice, but he’d seen Nima do the same, even more skillfully. Since neither game player was calling the other out on their misdeeds, Kamin kept his silence. There was muttering in the crowd, but it seemed the audience admired both the gaming and the cheating skills on display and was content to accept the outcome. The betting odds evened out, although still slightly favoring the caravan master to win.
Thunder rumbled as Ptahnetamun marched his fourth pawn off the board. His fifth was ten squares back, and Nima passed him by. There was an audible gasp from the crowd as she threw four white sides, sending her next-to-last pawn to safety. Now the game sat with one pawn belonging to each player still on the board. The wily caravan master was a few squares closer to claiming victory, but Nima was gaining on him, until finally both pawns sat crowded on square twenty-six, the House of Happiness, one of the few spaces that could be so shared.
“Yet only one of us will have happiness within their grasp this night,” Ptahnetamun said.
“It’s been a good game, well fought,” Nima answered, rubbing her thumb along the smooth edges of the sticks in her hand.
She needs four white sides showing to gain the extra point and get off the board. Doubtful she can throw the same score again. He might challenge her amazing luck openly if she did. Kamin didn’t know what outcome to hope for. The tension was palpable.
Nima threw two white sides, advancing her pawn to sit alone on square twenty-eight. A score of three would be required next time if she was to win.
Now to pray he can’t manipulate the sticks to throw the four white sides and gain the extra point either. Kamin watched intently in the firelight as Ptahnetamun held the sticks an extra second before tossing them with an odd flick of the wrist. As lightning flashed directly overhead and thunder boomed, the markers rolled across the table, fetching up against the side of the board, one tilting from the impact, balancing impossibly on the thin edge for a heartbeat before toppling to conceal its white side at the last second. Frowning, clearly unhappy with his points, their suddenly sober host moved his pawn past Nima’s onto square twenty-nine. He would need exactly two points to win the game on his next throw.
Nima collected the wooden sticks one at a time, cupping them in her hands for a long moment. Kamin rested his hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. Surely the gods won’t desert her now. Flashing him a tired smile, Nima dropped the sticks on the table, much as Ptahnetamun had done a few moments before. As the counters rolled and spun, all eyes following their path across the table, a cold breeze swept across the campsite, causing the fire to dance and flicker eerily. One black side, then one white side to secure half the needed points. Two sticks kept going, tumbling ever more slowly. A white side—one more hard-won point. The fourth stick slid lazily across the table, black side showing, before taking an odd jump, ending on the white side and giving her the needed third point.
“You won,” Kamin said, half in disbelief.
Deliberately, touching each square in turn, Nima moved her pawn off the board. “Victory is ours.”
Chapter Five
For a long moment, Ptahnetamun said nothing. The crowd held its breath. Kamin tensed, ready to grab Nima by the hand to run into the dark desert as a last effort to gain their freedom, should the man renege on his oath now.
Deliberately, the caravan master tipped his remaining pawn on its side before holding his hand out to Nima. “Congratulations, my lady. Clearly the gods were with you on your final throw. Life, prosperity, health to you.”
She shook his hand. “You honor our agreement, then?”
He nodded. “Although it will cost me a great deal of gold.” His gaze flicked to Kamin and back to Nima. “There are those hunting you who’ve offered a staggering price. But the judgment of the gods was clear, and I’ll not risk their wrath by breaking my oath.” Releasing her hand, Ptahnetamun stood up, throwing his arms wide, stepping into the center of the gathering. “Now we feast to celebrate a hard-fought game!”
Released from tense waiting, the crowd settled the wagers before streaming to where long rugs had been set up for the feast. Women began placing huge platters of food on the low tables.
“Come, be my guests at dinner,” Ptahnetamun invited. “I’ve ordered a goat slaughtered tonight for the occasion, although I will admit I expected to be celebrating my victory, not yours.”
Kamin and Nima sat next to him on an elevated platform of tasseled pillows and rugs and sampled the finest food the caravan had to offer. Seeming to bear no grudge, Ptahnetamun regaled them with stories of his wanderings in foreign lands, buying and selling all manner of goods and oddities, and conveying passengers.
“I’ve a suggestion for you,” he said at length. “Travel with me for the next few days.”
“We don’t journey to the north,” Kamin answered, dipping a crust of bread into the spiced yogurt.
“I know, you’ve been most insistent about going east, to reach your beloved Nile, but sometimes the best route is not actually the most direct.” Ptahnetamun leaned forward. “If you keep going east in a straight line from here, there’s no oasis to be found, nowhere to get food and water. I doubt your lady dancer can survive such a trek, no offense to her. If you travel with me, around noon of the third day, gods willing, we’ll cross a narrow track leading east. Used by herders or smugglers perhaps, not big enough for a caravan, but there are small wells and an oasis or two along the way. I’ll give you robes suited to desert travel and enough water to make it to the first resupply point.”
Kamin eyed his host, suspicion foremost in his thoughts. “I told you we’ve no gold or deben to pay, not even for two days of caravan passage.”
Ptahnetamun clapped him on the shoulder. “It would be a sin against the gods for me to leave you in the desert, walking to your death, since I’ve sworn a blood oath to Lady Nima. You look sturdy enough to load and unload camels, work your passage for two days. The lady and I can play—”
“No more senet for high stakes,” Kamin said, holding his hand up to stop the flow of words. “She’s won her game.”
“We could play hounds and jackals perhaps,” Nima said from the other side, grinning. “For low stakes.”
“I know how to deal with camels.” Kamin scooped up his mug of beer and drank.
Realizing Nima was looking askance at him, he set the jug on the table and nodded. “I’ve done many an odd task in my time. You’d be surprised.”
“It’s settled then.” The caravan master selected a large shank of meat, carving slices with gusto. “Report to my loadmaster in the morning, and he’ll assign you to a job.”
Nima leaned closer to Kamin, whispering in his ear, “Are you sure?”
Handing her another date, he said, “The man makes sense, as far as the supply of water. Horus might or might not continue to guide us. Besides, the Hyksos wouldn’t expect us to head north out of our way, so all in all it’s a sound strategy.” Which doesn’t mean I have to like it.
After several courses had been served, a three-man band with drums and flutes set up off to the side and a troupe of dancers came somersaulting into the large clear area in front of their makeshift dais.
Leaning over, Ptahnetamun pointed at the dancers with the wineskin before refilling Nima’s cup. “They travel with me and give shows whenever we camp near a town or city. They make a great deal of gold for themselves and for me—you’ll enjoy this, something unusual. I asked their troupe master to give a small performance for you tonight.”
Men and women were dancing and cavorting together, which was an oddity in and of itself. Strange though he found the dance, Kamin had to admire the skill on display. The performers were obviously not Egyptian, wearing unusually patterned kilts and tunics, thei
r curly black hair tied back with bright-colored ribands. “Where are they from?”
“The land of Minos, across the seas,” their host said.
Not taking her eyes from the performance, Nima asked, “Why did they leave their home?”
Ptahnetamun shook his head. “I ask no questions. Anyone who can pay my price is free to travel in my caravan.”
The dancing continued, the drumbeat throbbing, the tune unfamiliar but catchy. Kamin could tell Nima was entranced, studying the new moves, swaying in time to the music. Finally, she could stand it no more, rose and stepped from the dais, kilting her skirts high on her hips before skipping in to join the troop. There was scarcely a ripple in the movement as the Minoans absorbed her into their ranks and began showing off their moves, waiting for her to demonstrate something of her own artistry and then finally all whirling together, with her at the center as the featured performer.
Kamin was enthralled by Nima’s performance, as he’d been in the Hyksos camp. She was powerful, confident, beautiful in her joy. Pushing their dance to new heights, the Minoans seemed challenged by her unique artistry in matching movement to music. The foreign dancing was more athletic than sensual, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Nima.
Ptahnetamun leaned over. “I would wish she wasn’t such an accomplished senet player.” He nodded toward the dancers. “She’s quite something, your lady.”
The dance ended to a deafening round of applause and cheers from the crowd. Flushed, laughing, Nima parted from the others, leaving them to scoop up the few coins thrown by the crowd, and rejoined Kamin.
The caravan master handed her a mug of beer as she fanned herself and readjusted her skirts. “You’re better than any of them. You should sign a contract with me and follow my road—I could make you rich and famous, lady, believe it, the way you dance.”
Dancer of the Nile (Gods of Egypt) Page 8