by Scott Peters
Unlike the charcoal, which lay on the surface of the wall, the thirsty shard absorbed the ink. The ink and pottery bonded themselves together. It was beautiful to watch, so much that for a moment he simply stared.
His second brush-stroke was softer, drier. He dipped the brush-tip into the pool of ink, swirling it around until it was heavy with liquid. Then he drew a third stroke, amazed at how he could create lines of such varying thicknesses. The same line could start thin, grow thick with brush pressure, and end thin once again.
Soon, three black figures came alive under his fingers. Warriors with bows and spears. They charged across the pottery surface, moving like shadows, growing clearer as faces came into crisp focus. He bent forward, pulled into the rush of their attack.
A hiss of breath at his side tore him from his work.
Weris stood over him wearing a greedy expression. "Your cousin was right." His teeth flashed in a broad smile. "You have amazed me." He took the shard and looked closer. "Incredible."
Taken aback, Ramses felt suddenly off balance. Despite himself, his pride swelled at the tutor’s words of praise.
"What did I tell you?" Sepi said.
Weris tucked the shard away in the fold of his garment. "I see some potential—with training of course. Come, you can train with Sepi. I have enough payment for both of you. And this." He lifted a thick sheaf of papyrus from a trunk. "I hear it’s scarce in these parts."
Ramses’ jaw dropped. Suddenly his single sheet seemed paltry. With that great pile, he could make mistakes and never have to worry. "You’d give me that without payment? And train me?"
"How could I let such talents go to waste?" Weris said in a smooth voice. "I like everyone to be happy."
But everyone wouldn’t be happy. Not Aunt Zalika. She’d be furious.
"I can’t," Ramses said.
"Can’t?" Weris said. "I don’t accept can’t."
"You will when my aunt finds you training me."
Weris flicked his words away with an irritated wave. "Come to my room after dinner. She’ll never know. We’ll work by lamplight. It’ll be our secret. Just between the three of us. Agreed?"
Bastet leapt onto the windowsill. Her shadow fell across Weris’s golden collar, dimming its gleam.
"You’d do that? Help me like that? Why?" On impulse, Ramses felt for Neferet’s amulet of Maat, hidden at his waist. It felt strangely hot.
"We’d be helping each other—if you get into the Place of Truth of course."
"How?"
"Let’s not bore one another with details. I take it you’re interested?"
"Do it, Ramses," Sepi said. "Think what he can teach you—look at this." Sepi reached for a shard of pottery. "Look how good Weris is." He held it up for Ramses.
"Give me that." Weris wrenched the shard away.
But not before Ramses had seen it.
He gasped. The drawings were terrible, childish. Weris was no master painter. He might be good enough to fool Sepi, and his aunt and uncle, but Ramses’ own skills were far beyond the tutor’s clumsy attempts.
"Those are nothing," Weris snapped. "A few scratchings to clean off my brush. Well? What shall it be?"
Ramses swallowed. Did it matter if Weris was a farce? He had papyrus, and he’d offered to share. With only one sheet to his name, he’d be crazy to refuse.
He would accept. Of course he’d accept!
Weris drew close, his pale-gold eyes fixed on him. Before the word yes could escape Ramses’ lips, the amulet turned hot as fire his hand. He snatched his fingers away and took a step back.
He had his sheet. One that Hebony and Sobek had sacrificed their savings to get.
"No," Ramses said. "No. I can’t accept."
The tutor’s voice went up a notch. "You turn me away?"
"I’m sorry, but thank you."
Weris crushed Ramses’ shard to pieces. "Don’t be ridiculous. You will come to my room this evening. Understood?"
Ramses looked to see Sepi mirror his own shock. Was that a threat?
"I said, is that understood?"
"I won’t," Ramses said.
Weris’s expression sent shockwaves down his spine. It didn’t make sense. The man’s grimace was beyond poisonous. It was downright deadly.
"I'm sorry, but I can't," Ramses said. Shoulders stiff, he walked out the door.
In the hall, he stopped to look at his hand. It still blazed from holding Neferet’s amulet. He peeled back the bandages. His mouth widened in shock. The cuts looked as bad as ever; but he wasn’t interested in the cuts.
Instead, it was the shadowy image of Maat, goddess of justice and truth that made him gasp.
She’d burned her likeness into the ragged flesh of his outstretched palm.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Neferet had begun to dread meeting the daily delivery caravan at the gates. Still, she steeled herself against the fear she’d see Akil again and got ready to go. She put her basket over her arm and stepped out into a bright, clear morning.
She wasn’t expecting much: grain, some vegetables, and natron since she’d used the last bit to scrub her face this morning.
Instead of the usual trickle of villagers, today it seemed everyone was headed there. The bright chatter of women and children filled the narrow streets, echoing from the walls. Everyone had been madly ordering things for the coming event: wigs, hair-beads, scented oils, fabric for new outfits.
As she came around the corner to Kiki’s house, the door swung open.
Neferet paused, hanging back.
Layla came out first, tossing her glossy bangs out of her eyes. Kiki and a half dozen other girls followed, all talking and giggling. As usual, Layla skipped along while the rest of the girls vied for a place beside her.
Until last year, it had always been Neferet and Layla in the lead. Arms linked, and laughing. It was amazing how they could reduce each other to giggles back then. It was hard to imagine she and Layla had been inseparable; even harder to believe they’d shared every secret, every wish.
That was before Paneb complicated their lives. Before Layla bought him presents and baked him sweets and batted her eyelashes at him. Before Layla thought Neferet was in love with Paneb too—which she wasn’t.
And as the days passed since he’d left, she’d begun to wish she’d never even been his friend at all. He was gone, but he’d left behind an ugly stain—a stain that marked every person in the village.
A woman jostled against her, breaking her thoughts.
"Sorry, dear," the woman said with a broad smile. "What a crowd!"
Neferet smiled back. "Have you ordered something special?"
"No, just two jars of beer, some chisels for my husband. But I like to watch you girls and all the excitement. Run and catch up, don’t mind me."
Feeling awkward, Neferet pushed closer to Layla.
"I can’t believe hundreds of boys are going to be coming here. Here, right outside!" Kiki said.
"Don’t screech," Layla said. "Boys want girls to be mysterious, elusive. Not excited and loud."
"Ooh, I just love being elusive."
A girl snorted. "Yeah. Do you even know what elusive means?"
"Anyway," Kiki said to Layla, quickly changing the subject. "Don’t you wish they let the delivery people inside?"
"Don’t be ridiculous," Layla snapped. "I’d never want a bunch of filthy strangers coming to my door. Sometimes I think you forget we’re special."
"I don’t! But I hate lugging everything back home myself," Kiki whined.
"What are you getting anyway?" a girl asked Kiki. "I thought you just bought those gold hair beads you’re wearing for the big day. How much did you pay for them?"
"Yeah," said another. "I thought you were saving them?"
Layla had worn ones just like them last week, but already she’d moved on to a new style: a sleek, simple bob with long bangs.
Kiki’s cheeks colored. "Don’t be silly, I’m not wearing these old things on the big day." She
turned back to Layla. "Really though, don’t you think it’d be nice if they at least let the donkeys in? To help bring stuff home?"
"I think it would be nice if everyone hurried up," Layla replied. "I want to see if my package is here!"
Then, as if sensing Neferet’s eyes on her, Layla glanced back.
Neferet took a chance, inhaled a big breath and caught up.
"Hey, do you remember the first time we ordered something?" she said. "We both got those little sheep’s wool wigs?"
Layla’s brow flickered. She kept walking.
"And I was mad because mine wasn’t curled enough, so I tried to curl it myself?"
The corner of Layla’s mouth twitched with the beginning of a smile. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment Neferet saw her old friend looking back.
"And my mother had a fit because the whole thing went up in smoke?" Layla grinned. But the moment quickly vanished. She tossed her head. "Come on," she cried to the others. "Let’s run!"
The girls took off squealing and giggling and pushing through the crowd. Neferet followed, slowly trailing in their wake.
At the village gate, Jabari wore a crisp uniform normally saved for special occasions; official armbands encased his biceps. He signaled them to a stop. When he had everyone’s attention he said, "File out calmly please. We have an important visitor."
"An important visitor?" Layla demanded. "Who?"
"The mayor of Thebes. Now file out and get your things. Do not disturb his caravan. Do not approach his litter."
Neferet let the others go first and sidled up beside Jabari. "Why is the mayor of Thebes here?" she whispered.
Quietly, he said, "I heard he brought some apprentice-hopeful. Some favorite boy."
"The mayor has a favorite boy?" Neferet’s heart quickened. "Did you see him? Was it my friend from . . ."
"Shhh." Jabari gave her a warning nudge.
Neferet followed the guard’s gaze to see her father approaching. He was deep in conversation with an elder craftsman and didn’t see her. They walked with swift, business-like strides. Her father looked buoyant. Clearly he was excited about meeting the mayor’s special boy.
Was it possible it was Ramses? Somehow, she had to get near the mayor’s litter. She ducked outside before her father saw her.
The smell of donkeys assaulted her and the sun’s heat seared her nostrils as she glanced at the chaotic scene. A crowd filled the flat, baked plain in front of the village. To the right stood a long line of donkeys, all weighted down with packages. Their owners shouted and haggled for tips, while the villagers went from man to man in search of their orders.
On the left, the mayor’s train stood silent and regal. Guards stood, stone faced and upright. Banners fluttered down the line, flashing with the Mayor’s crimson and yellow colors. In the middle were two grand litters, the drawn curtains also decorated in crimson and yellow.
The donkey train jostled and shifted sideways toward the mayor’s train, spreading ever wider as packages were lifted down and examined.
Neferet saw her chance.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Quickly, Neferet made her way into the midst of the donkeys. She passed the girls, all crowded around a deliveryman with a mess of baskets. Everywhere, people tried sort out what belonged to whom. She’d never seen such confusion. Who would notice if she snuck over to the mayor’s train?
A breeze lifted the edges of the curtains. If she could just get behind the litters, close enough to see. But when she reached the middle of the crowd, she groaned. A big gap separated the two groups.
Suddenly, Layla was at her elbow.
"Quick, come on," Layla whispered.
Neferet spun around. "Layla?"
She was leading a donkey. "Take its bridle!"
"Why? What do you mean?"
Layla’s eyes sparkled with their old excitement. "Don’t you want to see who it is? In the mayor’s train? Isn’t that what you’re trying to do?"
"Maybe."
"Well then stop questioning me and hurry, just lead the donkey back there, you can hide behind him."
"Are you crazy?"
"No one will even notice! They’re all busy looking for their packages."
Neferet took a step back. "No. I’m not falling for some trick."
Layla’s sparkle faded. She dropped her gaze to the ground. "Look, I know I’ve been acting stupid." The donkey pushed his nose into her hand. She bit her lip and rubbed its fur. "I just . . . back there, what you said about the wigs . . ."
Neferet had no idea what to say. "Layla . . ."
"I should’ve believed you when you said you and Paneb were just friends." She met Neferet’s stare, and very softly, she said, "I’m sorry."
Tears sprang into Neferet’s eyes.
"I miss you." Layla gave Neferet a gentle shove. "Even if you are a brat."
They stood there grinning at each other and it was as if all the horrible months had disappeared. Layla shoved the bridle into Neferet’s hand.
"Now come on!" Layla said. "Go! Before someone sees!"
The donkey blinked its soft eyes as if urging her to hurry. Neferet ducked down and began to lead it across the empty space. Straight toward the mayor’s train.
Layla was right. No one seemed to notice.
She ducked, pressing close to the animal’s shoulder. Two huge clay jugs of water still weighted the animal down, one strapped to each side. The nearest jug jostled up and down as the donkey walked, pushing against her arm. With each step, it seemed to sag lower and lower. Someone should’ve fastened the strap tighter.
But right now, that didn’t matter. She was nearly close enough!
She moved faster, coming near to the back of the litter. If Ramses was inside, maybe she could get his attention. Maybe he’d stick his head out. Just a little closer—
Snap! The sound of breaking leather cracked the air.
The strap holding the water jugs flew free. The heavy cargo hinged downward. The donkey ripped the bridle from her hands as it reared onto its hind legs, eyes white with shock. Braying and kicking, the donkey plunged back down.
Neferet stumbled as the animal thrust against her and drove her to the ground.
A hoof missed her face by inches. She tasted sand as she scrambled underfoot.
Then crash! Both jugs hit the dirt. The nearest smashed into a rock. The resounding explosion of clay was deafening. Water and shards flew everywhere. Fragments bit into her exposed skin. She threw her arms over her face. Liquid surged over her, drenching her dress and hair.
The donkey skittered away.
Silence fell. Slowly, she lowered her hands.
The whole crowd stood frozen, wide-eyed. But the only person Neferet saw clearly was Layla—Layla’s lips forming the words, "Oh my!"
Neferet leapt to her feet. "You could have killed me!" she screamed.
Layla glanced sideways at the others, with a baffled, innocent expression. "Is she talking to me?"
"You could have killed me!" Neferet screamed again. Mud trickled down her cheeks. "You hate me that much?"
Layla bit her lip, frowning as if to say Neferet was crazy.
"Answer me!" Neferet screamed. "You hate me that much?"
At this, a man thrust aside the curtains of his litter. The mayor. His mouth turned down as he examined her with disdain.
"Our deepest apologies, sire," Layla said. "We’re not all that uncivilized."
Neferet clenched her fists. "I trusted you."
Layla’s tinkling laugh rang out. With a shout, Neferet launched at her. She didn’t care if the whole village saw. Every guard. Even the mayor himself. She’d show Layla once and for all. She’d grind her face into the dirt, make her apologize, make her never try to—
Strong arms caught her from behind.
"Go home," her father growled. His eyes were dark and full of fury. "Now."
She swallowed, shaken from her fog. She sensed the mayor staring, saw his disgust mirrored in the face of every village
r. She felt like a wild animal, instead of the highborn daughter of the Head Scribe himself.
"Father," she said, stepping closer to him. "I can explain! I’m so sorry! I just—"
"I said go home."
She nodded. How could she have humiliated him like this?
Clutching her soaked, muddy dress, she started toward the village gates. The girls clutched their packages, smirking and whispering.
Neferet walked a little faster.
A group of women shook their heads. Then a deliveryman snorted with laughter. The whole crowd joined in.
She broke into a run. At the entrance to the village, Jabari gave her a puzzled expression. She ignored him and ran down the shadowed streets, and kept sprinting.
In the silence of her room, she threw herself down.
Pulling a sheet over her head, her breath caught in her throat.
She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong anywhere.
She was totally and completely alone.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ramses had hardly seen Weris in the last ten days. To his surprise, the tutor’s strange behavior turned out to be empty threats. Instead, it was Aunt Zalika who hounded Ramses’ every move. By some sixth sense, she seemed to know about his sheet of papyrus, and was determined to keep him from getting near it.
"I know you’re up to something," she kept saying. And then he’d catch her tearing his cell apart.
Her hounding worked.
He had nowhere to hide.
The papyrus still lay untouched in the hole under the kitchen tile.
Gritting his teeth, he trudged into the barn. He needed to find some way to use it without her seeing! Cool shadows swallowed him and he made his way by instinct until his eyes adjusted to the light.
The dirt floor felt rough and pebbly. There had to be more harvest baskets in here somewhere. He tossed aside a crate and cursed. The exam was in two days! The papyrus was useless if he didn’t draw something.
Shoving aside a storage bin, he heard an angry hiss. A huge goose rose up, flapping her wings in anger, feathers flying.