Reflections in the Nile (60 page)

“It is my crown!” Thut hissed. “I have served Egypt, and even the desert God of the Israelites has seen fit to give it to me! I do not need anyone's approval. I will crown myself!”

“To do that, you will need gold.”

Thut's eyes narrowed. “Do you know of such gold?”

“Aye. A pharaoh's coffers.”

Thut's body stiffened. “I will not rob the dead.”

Cheftu quirked an eyebrow. “Even the unburied dead?”

“You saw what happened and did not have the decency to bury her?” Thut's voice rose incredulously. “What gods do you serve?”

Cheftu's face froze. “I serve the one God.”

His comment fell into an echoing wadi between the two men. Thut stared at him with black, wary eyes. Thut stepped toward him, and Cheftu pressed the blade tip into his skin. It was not cutting, but the pressure was there. “Do not move closer, Thutmosis. I will destroy myself rather than tell you my secrets before my desires are accomplished.”

Thut stopped.

Cheftu's hand was steady.

“What do you want? I doubt a wily magus would step into my chambers unless there was another motive.”

“I want RaEm back.”

“Back?” Thut asked, surprised. “Are you saying she left you for some other fool? Really, Cheftu, how many times will you let this woman unman you?”

Cheftu's jaw clenched, the muscles working, “Are you claiming you do not have her? That you did not take her hostage so I would reveal myself?”

Thut straightened his shoulders. “I am a soldier. I do not take women hostage. I fight men, like a man. There is no honor in taking your woman. I had almost caught you anyway. Now, back to this gold—despite my not having RaEm, do not think you can leave here without telling me where it is.”

Cheftu's eyes narrowed, his gaze intent. “Here is my bargain: In exchange for my witnessing to Hatshepsut's death, RaEm is to be allowed to travel to Noph and live there in’ safety and unknowing peace.”

Thut stepped back, watching Cheftu, wondering about other things the man had said. “More.”

“What?”

“It will take more. I need gold and you know where it is.” Thut smiled coldly. “Give it to me and you can both go and live anywhere beyond the red and black lands, so long as I never hear from you again.”

Cheftu swallowed. “Gold. Gold you want and gold you shall have, but not unless you help me find RaEm
today
and let us go free until after the twenty-third of Phamenoth. RaEm will be allowed to pass safely up the Nile, to Noph, and live there until after the twenty-third of Phamenoth. You will not stop us or hinder us in any way?”

“I let you stay together in this time?”

“Together.”

“Then, after this date, you will be mine? Your magic, your power… your knowledge? The gold?”

Cheftu watched him steadily. “Aye. It will all be yours, all that is mine to give.”

Thut looked at the man, threatening to kill himself for what was apparently the love of a women. “I wonder if this tarnished priestess is worth it, Cheftu? To bring an
erpa-ha
of Egypt so low?”

Cheftu ground his teeth. “Safety until after the twenty-third?”

“Agreed.”

“You swear by…?”

“By Amun-Ra and the seven stages of the sacred priesthood of Amun!” Thut spat out angrily.

Cheftu smiled coolly. “I vow that if you do not keep your promises, the one God will destroy you.” His voice was soft but deadly. “You have been allowed to go on with your life, but these are again things you should not change. Swear on your crown, Thut! That is what you hold most dear!”

“I swear, curse you, I swear! I also swear that if you are lying to me, I will torture you and your slattern of a wife, for pleasure! I will paint a tomb of those scenes, and you will both live through them for eternity!” Thut's face burned with his rage, and his fists were clenched. “Now, get out, Cheftu, while I still think I need your information. But before you go, give me proof of Ha … her tomb. I want to see the gold! I want to be sure you are not lying!”

Cheftu stood and walked within a cubit of Thut. “I have nothing to give you, but this I did see. There is a statue of a fallen prince, his cartouche that of Horus-in-the-Nest during the time of your grandfather. It is perfection: gold and precious jewels, an exacting likeness of the man.”

Thut's face paled as he stepped back, stunned. “Hatshepsut and my father argued over that statue once. My aunt-mother had hidden it behind an altar, and my father had it moved. The statue was there.” His voice was monotonous, his eyes seeing his father, Thut II, and his reluctant consort, Hatshepsut as they fought over the statue of a handsome young prince, whose cartouche young Thutmosis could barely decipher. He blinked rapidly. “You tell the truth in this.” He stared off for a moment coming to grips with the reality. “Now, come sit and we can discuss like civilized men who could have your wife.” Thut took a chair. “I owe you a debt of honor. I want to repay it.”

Cheftu was wary but confident that Thut would keep his word. He was also desperately anxious for aid. Gambling Hat's gold was the only thing he could think to do. Of course, he would kill himself before he showed Thut the location, for the scrolls could not be endangered. He would return to France, and they would stay safe in Egypt. If he did not return to France, Thut still would never get the location out of him. Lying was without honor, but Chloe's life was worth more than honor to him.

“No one even knows we are alive,” Cheftu said. “Most of the people we knew are no longer living, either. RaEm had no gold, but a few witnesses on the street recalled a … a woman taken by another woman. A huge woman, with tattoos.” He looked at Thutmosis. “It sounds like a Sekhmet priestess, though I did not know they had a temple here in Waset.”

Thut's expression was blank. He walked toward one of the few enameled boxes containing his clothes and jewelry. He rummaged through it impatiently and then turned, a gold necklace in his hand. “Cheftu, when I…” He sighed. “That priestess who was sacrificed during the plague of darkness, you were surprised to see her. My guards reported you said she was much younger than you had thought.”

Cheftu pursed his lips. “Aye. She had been a sister-priestess to RaEm since birth. She was twenty-four Inundations, but … she looked younger.”

“Haii,
” Thut said, pacing. “Do you know the name ‘Basha’?”

Cheftu rose to his feet. “Aye. She was RaEm's handmaiden most of her life. She was raised in the temple, but had an insignificant birth date, so could not serve as a priestess.” He didn't add that she was also the one who had likely poisoned RaEm. “She disappeared one night.”

“I doubt she did,” Thut said, holding out his hand.

Cheftu took the necklace, then handed it back. “Where did you find this?” he asked.

“The Temple of HatHor in Avaris.”

Cheftu's eyes automatically went back to the gold. “But it is …”

“I know. This Basha was the wrong priestess, yet ReShera is gone.”

“ReShera stood to inherit RaEm's position and power. She was born a few hours too early,” Cheftu mused. “She hated RaEm and thought she was poisoning the priestesshood. Not to mention RaEm's relationship with Phaemon.”

Thut looked at him. “I could never get her to speak to me. How do you know these things?”

Cheftu looked away. “Another priestess talked. Not RaEm….” He stood, embarrassed.

Thut's mouth curved in a sly grin. “When did you speak to another priestess? They are usually sequestered away with duties.”

“The fowling party,” Cheftu said. “She was very, um, willing to share, under the right circumstances. I knew RaEm was in serious danger. I had to know from whom.” His gaze held Thut's. “Do you think ReShera has her?”

Thut shrugged. “What of it? It is within her right as a fellow priestess.” He held up a hand at Cheftu's darkening anger. “I have made a promise to you and will keep it. We shall go see.”

“ReShera follows Sekhmet, I think. Do you know where the temple is?”

“I am Pharaoh. But do not forget the price, Cheftu. Your life, your knowledge, and the gold.”

“Aye, My Majesty.”

CHAPTER 19

C
hloe threw away the braided grass, and it landed in a pile with the other hundred pieces she had picked out of the darkness and laced together to keep her sanity. She had woken up in a dark, dank cell, and after a few hours of almost total fear, she had calmed down. It had taken hours to get the bindings off her wrists and ankles and another to untie the vicious knot holding on the gag. They had tied it into her hair! At least now she had freedom of movement. She touched her raw and bloody wrists. Her mouth still felt stretched from the gag. Chloe swallowed the last drop of spit she was able to muster, savoring the moisture against her dry tongue. Had it been days, or did it just feel that way?

She was so thirsty. Her tongue felt as swollen and dry as the cloth she'd had in her mouth. She sat still in the darkness, wondering what would come, what was the purpose to being here. The “other” was almost gone, the thoughts and traditions so embedded in Chloe's own mind that she didn't need the constant consultation. Still, she could have used the company….

Chloe reached for more grass, automatically breaking it into three sections; Cheftu, oh God, she thought, please help me!

A noise in the corridor stopped her. Her only chance of escape would be to rush the jailer. The door opened slowly and Chloe crouched, her muscles protesting. An enormous Kushite woman held out a long spear, training it on Chloe's breast. She motioned forward and Chloe rose, a cubit from impalement. Once outside Chloe was thrown against the wall and her wrists refastened. She moaned in pain as the new leather bit into the open wounds. Her eyes smarted as she was pushed forward, up the main hall of the temple.

Help me, she thought.

C
HEFTU,
T
HUTMOSIS, AND A SMALL CONTINGENCY
of guards pushed through the sparse undergrowth to the side of the temple. It was mostly underground, the crumbling lioness statue half-hidden by vegetation.

Leaving the guards placed strategically, Cheftu and Thut walked through the dark hallways. Cheftu's perfect memory recalled the map he had once seen as a
sem
-priest, and he led them through the hypostyle hall, with its crumbling pillars, to the cross-passageway. Voices were audible behind them, and they stepped into the shadows moments before two huge women, pulling Chloe, came around the corner.

Thut's insistent hand on his arm was the only thing that kept Cheftu from leaping out and taking Chloe. Her face was creased with pain, and he saw her arms were behind her, tied at both the elbow and wrist, the way Pharaoh tied foreigners. The men followed at a distance. The sound of voices grew louder, and Cheftu realized with a start that they were singing about the glory of vengeance and blood. It was a horrible, archaic song, quite unlike the music he had heard during his years in Egypt.

Thut pulled Cheftu's arm and prevented him from walking into the main chamber openly. They crept around the edge, in the shadows of the columns. The singing had quieted down, and one of the priestesses was seated on a silver chair. She was dressed in a white robe and a Sekhmet headdress. Cheftu realized he had seen it and her before—at the Temple-of-the-Ka-of-Ptah, in Noph. She had been the incarnation of Sekhmet and had bitten RaEm's wrist, a bizarre ritual, he'd thought. This was why: she's mad.

They cut the bindings from Chloe's arms, and Chloe gasped as they pulled off the leather. Cheftu saw nothing but red for a few moments as he heard the priestess's chilling laughter—a response to Chloe's pain. Thut's hand was like rock on his forearm, and Cheftu knew they needed to listen. If there was corruption in the priesthood, Thut needed to clean it out. Cheftu ground his teeth in the darkness.

The figure on the chair stood up and walked forward. “My murdering priestess-sister,” she said.

Cheftu and Thut exchanged glances; no one had prepared Chloe for ReShera's face when she pulled off the mask.

Chloe stepped back with a cry. “You live!”

ReShera laughed. “And you shall not, dear sister.”

Chloe's face was white in the moonlight. “I do not understand.”

“I doubt you do, RaEmhetepet” she said. “Until recently you never understood me. So I shall explain—it gives me such pleasure to watch you quiver before my eyes.”

“Then who died?” Chloe asked.

ReShera stared. “What?”

“Someone died. I sent someone to her death Who was it?”

ReShera's face became another mask, one bleached with hate whose black eyes brimmed with madness. “My beloved Basha.”

It took a moment for ReShera's words to penetrate all those minds present, hidden and unhidden. “Beloved?” Chloe repeated.

“Aye. She had been mine since she was a girl! I shaped her, molded her, created her to be a creature to serve Sekhmet. I protected her from your violence!” ReShera hissed. “Only because of you is she gone. You, who would sleep with any rutting beast, except the prince! You, who stole my brother and took his life! You think yourself so much more valuable than any other! As did the goddess HatHor—but she is also weak. Better to serve the goddess Sekhmet. She devours her enemies! Takes their power that way! As I shall yours, priestess.”

“How did you do it?”

ReShera looked confused, and Chloe repeated the question. “You were worshiping with us, yet Basha was sent? How did you do it?”

“I did not kill her,” ReShera said stonily. “You murdered my beloved Basha. You did!”

“I did,” Chloe agreed soothingly, in hopes of getting the truth. “How did I do it?”

“You slipped out of the temple and got her from the tunnels where she was staying. She was weak and hungry, and it was easy to get her to eat drugged food and change clothes. You walked her to the White Chamber and sat her down, then snapped the name necklace off her and put on your own. Then you heard the prince and ducked. Once he was violating Basha and you saw that she liked it, you were filled with anger and left. I have been playing dead all this time. Hatshepsut, living forever! was seeking a reason to eliminate you. She knew I was well.” ReShera smiled, an eerily beautiful woman who had stepped over the chasm into madness.