Jake Ransom and the Howling Sphinx (21 page)

By the time they'd crossed the city—skulking through the shadows, avoiding any stray eyes—full night had fallen. Overhead, stars sparkled in a spectacle that humbled. Jake stared up at the thick swath of the Milky Way cutting across the sky, what Marika's people called the
White Road
.

The thought of Marika and the others pulled his attention back to Earth. With every passing minute, his fear grew. Were they being tortured? Were they even still alive? He had to believe they were alive.

“How much farther?” he asked as they stopped at a crossroad.

She pointed to the left. They'd reached the western wall.

A blare of horns sounded behind them, coming from the center of town. They'd been hearing similar clarions as they fled through the city. An alarm was being raised.

“This way,” Nefertiti said.

She hurried down a side alley barely wide enough to walk in single file. The way cut jaggedly back and forth and smelled of rotting vegetables and gamey meat. Nefertiti lifted the hem of her robe with distaste, stepping over a wet puddle that Jake hoped was old bathwater.

At last, Nefertiti stopped. Jake stared past her shoulder and spotted a sign hanging crookedly, dangling from one chain. There was no name, only the painted symbol of a square-headed nail bent into a lightning bolt.

“The Crooked Nail,” Jake said. “We made it.”

Open windows glowed with firelight. The smell of roasting chicken (or more likely some other meaty denizen of the desert) encouraged Jake forward. He hadn't eaten all day.

As they reached the door, it banged open in front of them. A red-bearded giant stumbled out, a mug spilling froth in his hand. He leaned against the opposite wall, bent over, and emptied his stomach in a mighty rush.

Nefertiti backed away in a hurry, almost knocking down Jake.

The man stared blearily at them, burped, then wiped his lips. “That's better. Got more room now.” He swilled from his mug and headed back to the door, but at least he hadn't entirely forgotten his manners. He pointed to the door. “You going in? Then after you.”

Nefertiti rushed in, squeezing past the lummox, plainly trying not to touch him. Jake followed, just as cautiously.

Inside, the main room of the inn was crowded with people from all manner of tribes, but they shared the same roughshod appearance: scars, stone-hard eyes, patched clothes. It was blisteringly hot in there, made hotter by the fire burning in a long, low hearth against the back wall. Iron pots and kettles, a few bubbling over, dangled above the red coals.

Most of the crowd gathered near the bar along the other wall. Laughter rang out, along with a few bawdy songs.

Nefertiti hid within the hood of her stolen robe. “You say you have friends here?”

As if hearing the question, a sharp call pierced the ruckus. Jake turned toward a small table near the back. A more serious group had their heads bent together. From among them, a man stood up and waved Jake over.

It was Djer, freshly scrubbed, in a loose shirt and belted Egyptian kilt.

Nefertiti leaned close to Jake as they headed over. “That's Kree's cousin. Can he be trusted?”

“Considering where I found him, I'd say yes.”

Djer strode forward and hugged Jake hard. “You made it. We feared the worst. The horns have been blowing since nightfall.” His eyes stared over at Nefertiti, still hooded. “Where are the rest of your friends?”

“Captured,” Jake said, his voice catching as worry spiked through him.

Djer clasped his shoulder in sympathy. “I'm sorry.”

“I was hoping you could help.”

Djer's face closed up. “We owe you much for rescuing us, but we've heard word that the royal pyramid is locked tight. Now we know why. They will not be caught by surprise again today. Perhaps if we waited a moon or two, let their guard relax …”

Jake balked at that plan, imagining the torture the others would endure in the meantime.

Nefertiti was not any happier. “No,” she said, shaking back her hood. “That is not acceptable.”

The room went dead quiet as all eyes turned to her.

It took Djer several breaths to speak. “By all the stars, you've kidnapped Princess Nefertiti!”

A cheer rose from the crowd. Mugs were raised in celebration. Nefertiti's countenance went dark with anger. Plainly this was not the reception she'd been expecting.

“I was not kidnapped!” she declared with a stamp of her foot.

But no one believed her.

Djer scooped Jake around the shoulders. “We'd best continue this conversation in a more private setting.”

He and his companions moved to a creaky set of stairs. It was little better than a ladder and led to a set of rooms above the hall. Djer took them to a game room, set up with scarred tables and piles of stones used as playing pieces.

Jake spoke first, needing to clarify the situation. “I didn't kidnap her.”

Nefertiti had her arms crossed, sulking as only a princess can.

“The danger here is far worse,” Jake said, and explained all that had befallen them.

With the telling, Djer sank into one of the chairs. His face went hard with concern. “That crazed man was the pharaoh's brother? All thought him dead.” His eyes found Nefertiti. “Your uncle was a fierce advocate for bringing all the people of Deshret together as one. A noble cause. No wonder my cousin had him imprisoned.”

“And now Kree means to murder my father and make himself the new pharaoh. Once his place is secure, he will no longer need my uncle alive.”

Another of Djer's companions spoke. He was a frail old man with a sunken face. “Kree has made many enemies and will make them suffer for it.” He glanced around the room. “It will not be long before we're all hanging by our necks or running for our lives.”

Another nodded, a woman with braided blond hair and a long, rippling scar down one cheek. “Torcolus is right. A shadow fell over Deshret as the pharaoh slumbered. If Kree climbs to the throne, a true and endless night will come.”

“Then we must stop him,” Jake said.

“But the pharaoh may already be dead,” said a young man with a pocked face.

Djer shook his head, his eyes lost in calculation. “I
know my cousin. As long as Nefertiti is free, he'll bide his time.” He picked up one of the stones from the table and bounced it in his palm. “She's a loose game piece, unpredictable. He'll not make such a drastic move until he can see the entire field laid out before him.”

A knock at the door made them all jump.

Djer nodded for the man with the pocked skin to open it and for Nefertiti to hide her face again.

As the door opened, a scamp of a boy, about nine years old, burst into the room, all energy as if he'd downed a gallon of strong coffee. “I have word of the horns!”

Djer glanced to Jake and explained, “I sent runners to find out why the horns were blaring. To discern your fate.” He turned back to the boy, pulled a brass coin from a pocket, and placed it in the child's palm. The coin quickly vanished.

Once paid, the boy spoke in a breathless rush. “They say that someone tried to poison Pharaoh Neferhotep. Outlanders. From Calypsos!” The boy spat on the floor. “Most have been caught, but one escaped. All the guards search for him. A reward of three hundred silver pieces is placed on his head. It is also whispered that he killed the princess. Or maybe the princess is under a spell. Or maybe she's even helping them.” He shrugged. “Wouldn't put it past her to poison her own father.”

Djer gave the kid another coin, then scooted him out. “Thank you, Riku.”

Nefertiti folded back her hood. Jake expected her to be red faced with fury; but she looked crestfallen, her eyes moist with restrained tears. “Do you all think so ill of me?”

The blond woman spoke. “Under the shadow of the Blood of Ka, even that which is bright will appear dark.”

Jake felt a pang of sorrow for Nefertiti. She was prideful and willful, but how much of her spirit had been corrupted by Kree? He remembered how she had looked out in the desert: wild and free, out from under that monster's shadow.

Another knock, and the door popped open again. Nefertiti barely got her hood up in time. It was the same boy, Riku. He slapped his forehead.

“I forgot to say! Those outlanders. They are to be sent to the Blood Games.”

Jake jolted, ready to rush him for more information.

Djer held Jake back and knelt beside the boy. “When will it be?”

“Sunrise!”

“Do you mean on the morrow?”

A fast nod. “Princess Layla is furious. Wants them killed before another day passes. They say she's the one who exposed the plot of the outlanders. She'll make a great queen one day!”

Djer bent to whisper in Riku's ear. The boy nodded vigorously, took another coin, and sped out. Djer locked the door this time. His eyes were shadowed by worry.

“My cousin's a crafty one. Pulling gold out of ashes. He paints Layla as the savior. None will speak against her … or against him if he marries her.”

“So all we've done is make the path to the throne easier for him,” Jake said sourly.

“There remains but two boulders in that path.” Djer looked at Jake and Nefertiti. “He will keep the pharaoh alive until you're both captured. I suspect that's why the games were set for the coming morning.”

Jake understood. “He wants to lure us out. He knows we'll try to rescue the others.”

“Precisely.”

“Then what are we going to do?” Nefertiti asked.

“First, we've got to get you both somewhere safe, somewhere with fewer eyes. It only takes one person to misspeak and draw the palace guards here.”

“Then what are we going to do?” Jake said, holding back a growing panic.

“We're going to do what my cousin wants. We're going to rescue your friends.”

“How?”

Rather than answering Jake, Djer turned to the others. “For too long the resistance has smoldered, waiting for a chance like this.”

The old man named Torcolus spoke. “There is
chance
, Djer, then there is
foolishness
. We are not strong enough. We are too scattered, too few to make a move so soon.”

Djer shrugged. “We make a move now, or we'll never make it. If Kree and his bloody-robed minions seize power, we've lost before we've even begun.”

The discussion waged back and forth; but slowly, one by one, Djer won them over. If Kree was anything like Djer, Jake began to understand how the Blood of Ka had grown to have such power.

At last, Djer turned to Jake with the full focus of his intense gaze. “You asked
how
earlier.”

Jake nodded. “How can we rescue my friends and sister?”

“With the pyramid locked down, the best opportunity is at the games in the morning. In fact, it's our only chance.”

“But that doesn't answer
how
,” Jake said.

Djer offered a smile of approval. “Nothing slithers past your sandals, does it, young man.
How
, you ask? The answer is simple:
with a little help from above
.”

A fist pounded on the door. From the way the boards shuttered, it certainly wasn't the boy. Djer unlatched the door and pulled it open. The red-bearded giant whom they'd met in the alleyway lumbered inside. But he was no longer weaving—his gaze was dead steady.

He must have faked being drunk earlier.

Confirming that, the giant cocked an amused eyebrow at Jake.

He was the inn's gatekeeper, checking on whoever
came snooping at the door. The shock must have been plain on Jake's face. A chuckle that sounded like grinding boulders flowed from the giant.

Djer frowned at the interruption. “What is it, Grymhorst?”

The giant stepped aside. “Heard from Riku that you were looking for these two.”

A pair of men moved past Grymhorst and entered the room: one tall and stately, the other squat and square. Jake knew them both.

Horus, the skymaster of the windrider, and Politor, the head mechanic.

Jake recalled Djer's explanation of the rescue operation.

With a little help from above
.

Jake smiled, finally understanding.

It wasn't a bad plan.

Dawn came rosy and cold.

Wrapped in a thick leather cloak, Jake shivered as he stood atop the deck of the windrider, the
Breath of Shu
. It was the same ship they'd traveled aboard to reach Ka-Tor yesterday. The damage to the ship from the air battle with the harpy horde had been repaired; but a few scars remained, including those of the flesh.

Skymaster Horus manned the ship's rudder, but he carried his arm in a sling. They'd lifted off an hour before sunrise under the guise of testing the repaired boat. While this was mostly an excuse, Politor still scurried above and below the deck, making sure all was in good shape.

And Jake now understood why.