‘Why,’ Nefru exclaimed to Herit, ‘you look better already.’ She turned her attention to Aya, insisting on taking her to the window to look at her in ‘the proper sunlight for the first time since only the gods knew when’. Feeling slightly better, Herit had pulled herself up a little too, and for a moment Aya surrendered herself to the inspection of the two older ladies.
‘Doesn’t she look lovely, Herit?’ crowed Nefru.
‘That she does. Just like her mother …’
‘And her aunt,’ said Aya, smiling, joining in.
‘Mind you …’ said Nefru, peering more closely. Her own ruddy cheeks came so close to Aya that she could see broken veins as Nefru inspected her. ‘You’re looking a little bit pale, child. It’s all very well you giving me and Herit advice, but you need to start taking better care of yourself by the looks of things.’
It was true. Out in the desert, Aya had been feeling ill. She brushed off Nefru’s concern, but the truth was that she still felt nauseous – likely the remains of that horrible oil, she decided.
The smell, and also, she told herself, probably nerves. After all, she had depended on Nefru’s expert gossip-spreading talent to soften the blow of her return to Siwa; she could walk the streets at least. But it also meant that Ahmose, Bayek’s mother, would be expecting a visit, and to leave it too long before going to see her would be considered disrespectful. No doubt about it, it had to be done, and sooner rather than later. It had to be done this morning.
And so, when she had finished being inspected by Herit and Nefru, Aya left the relative safety and sanctuary of Nefru’s house and took to the streets of Siwa.
Seeing Siwa bathed in sunlight did nothing to soothe her nerves, and, of course, it didn’t escape her notice that people in the street were literally stopping to stare at her. Then, suddenly, standing before her was her childhood friend Hepzefa.
Perhaps it was because they’d all been so much younger when she and Bayek left, but where Nefru and Herit had seemed somehow preserved by the years, Hepzefa had grown.
Looking at him as he stood before her, grinning broadly, with his arms wide, she was reminded of Bayek. And for a second the jolt of suddenly remembering Bayek threatened to spoil the reunion. But then the two were in each other’s arms, and once more Aya was fighting back tears – of joy this time.
She told her old friend the story – with promise of more detail to come. ‘What news in Siwa?’ she asked, and Hepzefa shrugged and laughed as though to say nothing much, and life goes on. Sennefer would want to see her, he said, and she promised to make time for both of them. But first there was the small matter of …
She jutted her chin up the lane towards where the house, her destination, lay like a lioness’s.
‘How has she been, do you know?’
‘Ahmose?’ said Hepzefa. ‘Like always. Giving you a hard time one minute, keeping herself to herself the next. As long as the news you have to give her is good then I suppose you should be all right.’
She wasn’t sure that it was.
With promises to see Hepzefa later, Aya continued on her way, treading up the path until she came to Bayek’s house.
It was funny, while everywhere else in Siwa was a storehouse of memories, this was the exception. Sabu had never really approved of her and Bayek’s relationship so she’d rarely come here, and even then only to give their familiar whistle, at which Bayek would usually appear. But Ahmose had never shown any animosity towards her, she reminded herself. She’d smile and wave in greeting before Bayek joined her, most times.
But, here she was, ready to do something she had never done before, and that was knock on the door of Bayek’s house.
‘Come in,’ came the voice from inside. ‘I’ve been wondering how long it would take.’
Aya steeled herself, went inside and there she was, Ahmose, waiting primly on a stool, her mouth set. It struck Aya that she too was preserved, like Nefru and Herit – as though time had passed her by – though her neat home was more spacious.
‘You haven’t brought them back, then?’ she said, without offering Aya a seat. She looked her guest up and down, somehow friendly without being welcoming.
‘No,’ said Aya.
Ahmose digested the news, although, of course, it wasn’t news. Perhaps she had needed to hear it from Aya’s lips. ‘How are they?’ she said at last.
‘They’re well. The same as ever.’
Ahmose harrumphed. ‘Really? That’s not what I want to hear. By telling me something you think I want to hear you’re telling me exactly what I don’t want to hear. How about just telling me the truth?’
Aya stood, not sure what to say or how to react. She remembered Ahmose as formidable but didn’t recall her being quite so forthright, and for a moment she didn’t know how to reply. She was right, though, and the younger woman could do no less towards someone who had been separated from her family for so long. That realization left her at a loss for words, bereft by the enormity of it all.
Then, thankfully, the older woman broke into a smile. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I just hoped … well, you know what I hoped.’ She stood, crossed the room and took Aya in a warm embrace. ‘Darling Aya, you look even stronger and more beautiful than you did when you left,’ she said. ‘I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again after all these years.’
Now came the offer of a seat – as well as the invitation to start again. ‘And please don’t tell me they’re the same as ever.’
‘They’re not, Ahmose, no. Your two men have become father and son.’
It was the truth, and a good one, after all.
‘He’s grown up, has he?’
‘He’s training to be a Medjay.’
Aya was unsurprised when Ahmose showed not the slightest reaction to the word, though the look of amusement she was given did cause her to blink in confusion.
‘Oh no, dear, I didn’t mean Bayek …’
Aaah. So it was that once more, Aya told her story – this time with less of it left out.
61
Her next stop was to see Rabiah, and so she walked across the village, once more subjecting herself to the curious glances of Siwa, whispers behind hands, greetings that she fended off by saying she had important business to do as she made her way to her next port of call.
‘Hello, girl,’ said Rabiah when she called in.
‘Don’t tell me, you were expecting to me to come,’ said Aya, who, despite the overall warmth of her reception, was beginning to weary of being the returning face of Siwa. ‘So, what made you think I would come to see you?’
Rabiah shrugged. ‘You no doubt have questions.’
Aya shook her head. ‘Not really. What questions I had were all answered out there.’ She jerked a thumb behind her.
‘Really?’
‘All right,’ conceded Aya, ‘perhaps there are a couple of things I’d like you to answer, like, did you ever really think that Sabu left because of Menna?’
‘I didn’t know,’ replied Rabiah. ‘I knew it was dangerous, that’s all. That’s all that Sabu told me.’
Aya looked carefully at her, deciding that she was telling the truth. Or rather, not concealing anything in addition to this truth.
‘So?’ pressed Rabiah, ‘was Sabu called away to deal with Menna?’
‘No, but Bayek and I did as you suggested and met the Nubians, who were able to deal with Menna.’
At this, Rabiah, leaned back in her stall a little, tilting her head back, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes misted and she looked like a great weight had been lifted, as though relief were flooding through her. ‘Then it’s over.’
‘As far as Menna is concerned, yes.’
‘And what of the Nubians?’ asked Rabiah sharply, returning her attention to Aya and then remembering her manners at the same time; shades of Ahmose. ‘Here, girl, take a seat. Would you like some water? Wine?’
‘I’ve had enough liquids for one day, thank you,’ said Aya.
‘So
go on – the Nubians?’
Rabiah listened intently as Aya related the news of Khensa, Seti, Neka and the rest of her tribe. On hearing that the Nubians had been depleted by their war with Menna, she frowned sadly, perking up to hear about Khensa. ‘There are not many like her,’ she said.
‘We owe her a great deal.’
‘And what became of them, the Nubians?’
‘We had to split up. I know they planned to leave their home in Thebes, the gods only know how much they must have wanted to do that. They’ll be travelling. No doubt we will hear more of them in due course.’
‘But Menna definitely wasn’t the reason that Sabu left?’
‘No.’
‘Then what was it?’ asked Rabiah carefully. ‘What was the danger?’
‘A threat to the Medjay,’ said Aya. ‘Do you know of The Order in Alexandria?’
‘I have heard of them,’ conceded Rabiah.
‘It seems they are hunting Medjay.’
‘I see,’ she said.
‘You haven’t anything to say about that?’
Rabiah shrugged. ‘What would I have to say about that?’
Aya stood up, exasperated. ‘Did you know about them, Rabiah? Did you know this would happen?’ she said, and as she said it, anticipating the answer, she wondered how angry she should feel at being used by Rabiah to facilitate some grander scheme.
Rabiah had been watching her carefully, then suddenly gave a short, quick laugh. ‘You’re like Ahmose in some ways, Aya. She’s is always accusing me of knowing so much more than I do.’ She waved her hand. ‘As though I have tricks up my sleeve.’ Aya raised an eyebrow, feeling rather united with Ahmose on that front. People thought that of Rabiah because often, Rabiah did know more than others did.
‘Do you think I can see into the future?’ the older woman continued. ‘If only it were so. No, sadly, I have no such gifts. Simply a desire to maintain the ways of the Medjay and the knowledge that to do so involves protecting these temples.’
‘The temples are guarded.’
‘Not by Medjay. This town needs its protector. It needs Sabu. It needs Bayek.’
‘Well, at the moment it seems to have neither.’ Aya knew she was being unnecessarily blunt, but apparently Rabiah was used to bluntness. Aya was reminded of Ahmose at this, and of her travels – and of how she had grown and changed since she’d last been in Siwa.
Rabiah nodded, conceding the point. Then added, ‘But one or both will return.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Of Sabu coming back? I’m not. But Bayek. Oh, he’ll be back. He’ll come because you’re here.’
‘I’m bait, is that what you mean?’
Rabiah threw her arms up in frustration. ‘Again! How could I possibly control your presence here, child? You came of your own volition. I’m pleased that I appear to you like one of the gods, manipulating you all, but I’m really not, you know.’
‘Just that it’s worked out that way,’ said Aya, suddenly tired. Years of being on the run had taken their toll, and what was a natural level of suspicion out there seemed suddenly unwarranted here, in small and safe Siwa.
And now she felt some vile mixture of emotions that she couldn’t quite decipher: nausea, disgust, outrage, frustration, anxiety. She found herself reeling out of Rabiah’s home, dispensing with the usual courtesy and almost stumbling out into the street, the older woman calling out after in worry until Aya waved her off, pleading tiredness.
On her walk home she began to feel worse. She remembered the attack in the oasis, the point where she knew she’d kill to defend herself. Replayed that moment right before the arrows of the rider had struck home. At one point she staggered and reached to a low wall for support. Her thoughts whirled. She wondered if this feeling that events were out of her control, even here in Siwa, was the cause of the churning of her stomach, the dizziness that threatened to send her to her knees. She’d hated it when travelling with Bayek and his father, and she hated it now. She heard somebody call her name, looked over and through this division saw a figure – one she briefly thought might be the killer. But no, it was just her old friend Sennefer. She didn’t have the energy to stop and speak so she smiled weakly at him but shook her head, needing to move on and hurry home.
At last she got there and almost fell inside, wanting desperately to lie down. The building was dark and she was disorientated, her limbs feathery and shaking in the aftermath of the storm of emotions that had hit her in the street, and it took her a second or so to realize that there was somebody standing in her house. The figure of a man.
‘Bayek,’ she said, but it wasn’t Bayek. It was him – Bion – the man from the watering hole.
What was he doing here? she wondered dimly. But her stomach churned, the air smelled odd, and her vision was clouding. Air seemed to elude her, and everything was slowly turning sideways. He was moving towards her, something red in his hand. My scarf, she thought. Oh good. I was missing my scarf. And then she felt her feet go, saw the floor rush up to meet her, felt strong arms grip her. And then nothingness.
62
After the fight, as Bayek had been washed away and Sabu lay vanquished on the dirt, Bion had knelt, his shoulders heaving and his head lowered, exhausted and in pain, listening to …
Nothing.
Silence. Not even the shrieking of birds circling above his head. Even the blood rushing in his ears had subsided. But now the body of Sabu lay at his feet, which meant his mission would be at a close.
The killing would soon be at an end.
And he could find peace.
There was one other noise, though. It came from Sabu and was the sound of his laboured breathing. From his chest protruded Bion’s sword – the killer had been taking no chances, he had pinned the Medjay to the earth like a butterfly. Blood foamed at his mouth and Sabu’s eyes seemed to be drifting in and out of focus as he attempted to fix them on Bion, trying to see the face of his killer before he died.
In pain himself, Bion shifted slightly, grimacing from the wound at his side in order to look down upon him.
‘Your name,’ said Sabu weakly. Bion gave a short nod as though to confer the dignity of the vanquished upon him.
‘My name is Bion,’ he told him. ‘I am sent by The Order to kill you and your kin – sent by an Order official named Raia. Is he known to you?’
Sabu shook his head, causing himself pain. He screwed up his eyes to recover and when he opened them again his sight once more came to rest on Bion, who saw no hatred or anger there, just deep sadness to mirror his own. He wondered if Sabu wore his scars on the inside, and if he, too, were exhausted by the killing; if there was some part of Sabu that welcomed departure from this life.
‘Where is he?’ asked Sabu.
‘Your boy? Elsewhere.’
‘Dead?’ managed Sabu.
The killer spread his hands. ‘Who knows?’
‘He’s a strong boy,’ smiled Sabu a little wistfully.
‘You taught him well, Medjay,’ said Bion, and he reached to brush a lock of hair from Sabu’s eyes. ‘I watched you from a distance. I saw you pass him the medallion. You felt that his education was complete, I know. You had handed him the mantle of Medjay.’
‘I gave him a death sentence, did I?’ said Sabu.
Bion shook his head. ‘No, that had already been passed. The Order of Alexandria has decreed that the Medjay and its bloodline should be extinguished. When my work is done, only your adherents and pretenders will be calling themselves Medjay. The Order will have nothing to fear. The era of dominance will be uninterrupted.’
‘And that suits you, does it?’
Bion shrugged, the very act causing him pain and making him wince. ‘No, it does not suit me. I do nothing but the bidding of my masters. I kill. That is all. I have killed your friends. I have killed your master Hemon and his boy Sabestet.’ He indicated the sword that pinned Sabu to the ground. ‘I have dealt your death blow and shortly I shall kill your son in
order to complete my task. None of this suits me. It is simply what I do.’
‘You’ll have to find him first,’ said Sabu. He forced a smile. ‘No easy endeavour, that.’
Bion had seen Bayek swept away by the river. But he knew more than Sabu gave him credit for. He knew that if Bayek were alive then he would be making his way to Siwa.
There was, however, no reason to tell Sabu that he knew these things. Let the man nurture his false hope as he passed to the other side; let him deliver himself into the gods with faith as his companion. He didn’t tell Sabu that he had to recover the final medallion in order to take it to Raia, to make the mission complete and end the killing. He didn’t tell him that because, quite simply, Sabu had more than enough to contend with. He had his final moments to live.
Instead Bion said, ‘You were a fine and worthy opponent, Medjay, a great warrior. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that. Take that to your gods. Know that you served your creed and your family and your …’ He was about to say ‘township’ but stopped himself. ‘You have acquitted yourself well. You are right, Medjay, I may never find your son. I may never complete my task. You may take away with you the consolation that you made my labours a great deal more exhausting than they might have been. Goodbye.’ And with that, he sat back on his heels, deciding as a mark of respect to wait until Sabu passed until he tended to his own wounds.
It took the Medjay some moments to die. But when at last he did his eyelids flickered one last time, a final breath escaped in a gentle sigh and his head rolled to one side.
Bion checked the Medjay was dead and then retrieved his sword, left Sabu’s body for the carrion and then dressed his own wounds before returning to his horse and setting off in the direction of Siwa.
63
How long had I drifted? I had no idea. What sort of shape was I in when the elderly couple had pulled me from the water? I had no knowledge of that either. All I knew was that I was lying on a sleeping mat and yet the floor didn’t feel secure beneath me, as though it were … Yes, that’s right, it was moving.
Desert Oath: The Official Prequel to Assassin’s Creed Origins Page 23