Shadow of the Sun (The Shadow Saga) (12 page)

“We shall wager that your score will sour that milk,” said Father. “I bet a fine new chariot with one of my feistiest stallions the color of white Khemitian cotton.”

Ay knocked down the whole left course of pins.

“Aha,” shrieked Grand Djedti Ti-Yee with glee, “your boast was as empty as that aged bottle shall be tonight when my lowliest attendant indulges in it.”

Meti sent the ball off and knocked down the jackals, which slew the hippopotami, and all the crocodiles.

“Well done,” shouted Ay as he did a dance of joy.

HeMeti waved to me. “Merit-Aten, come join us for refreshments on the patio.”

I felt grown up to be included in their victory party. Father guided me out with languid steps while Grand Djedti raced ahead. She enjoyed her brother’s torment, as they had been sparring like this since their youth. Father looked up at the radiant orb in the sky and let the rays penetrate him.

“It is the greatest symbol for life, and the greatest source. It gives of itself endlessly. And because it gives so, it finds new life within itself.”

“It is beautiful, Father.” I shielded my eyes.

“The sun never needs to go outside of itself. It has all that it needs within. I aspire to be like the sun and shine upon my people, renewing their faith in every moment.”

“You are my sun, Father. Your arms encircle me like rays of the sun.” Meti poked her head outside. “Come join us. Ay says he will take a chariot ride to the wine estate. You should go. You work too hard.” The moment passed between us. Father now sought her arms again.

“I have a meeting with the Council tonight,” said Father as he patted me on the head.

“Could I go for a ride with Ay?” Meti’s eyes grew wide with hope. Father stalled and turned ashen. “The Per Aat would never allow it. Chariots are dangerous. You know what happened to my older brother.” “Yes, of course. It just looks so exciting,” she said as we entered the shaded patio.

Hep-Mut pulled a little wooden crocodile. Every turn of the wheels opened the croc’s jaws full of sharp teeth. Meket-Aten ran with outstretched arms, warning her nursemaid to take heed of the ferocious reptile.

I watched the childish game and shivered. Was that what used to amuse me? My news took precedence over Hep-Mut’s silly games with a baby.

My elders, seated upon couches of royal blue linen, sipped from ornate goblets. Bearers of ostrich feather fans created a soft breeze to please. Another attendant swished a horse tail to flick at flies. I reclined upon a lounge and picked at cucumbers, yoghurt and steamed spelt.

“There is news to share,” said Ti-Yee, after congratulating my success.

“The Amun priests have cut the army’s wages, declaring that in peacetime the forces need to be trimmed,” said Ay. “They will funnel the soldier’s salaries into paying the new craftsmen.”

Father coughed. “I hope the building of our temple did not create this hardship. A bored army could turn to crime or drink.”

I played with my food then remembered Captain Horemheb’s words. “The Captain said the way to win a soldier’s loyalty is to feed them. They can have my food.”

“That is generous,” said Meti. “Feeding those men would be quite an undertaking.”

“So, Sister, will you join me for some wine at my vineyards?” Ay interrupted to flaunt his win.

Grand Djedti’s cheeks flushed, “Not tonight, I am busy.”

Ay pretended he was hurt by clasping his hands over his heart. “Can you leave court business alone for one celebratory night?”

Grand Djedti patted her belly. “That is out of the question because I am with child.”

We congratulated her.

“You are excused,” teased Ay. “Nefertiti, dear daughter, will you join me?”

“No, Father, my reward will come a little later tonight,” she said with a wink. “And, I do plan to collect tonight, my Heart.” She stroked my father’s leg. Orange swirls flamed around her nethers as she attempted to set my father afire with her passion.

Father blushed and fanned his face. “Perhaps this is not the time to discuss such matters, my Heart. We should celebrate my mother’s joyous news. I shall have a new sibling soon.”

Meti’s smile froze. My mind wandered back to the news about the costume. I had to tell her about the color change.

“Vulture feathers are ugly. I want Hoopoe feathers. It looks pretty with green.”

Meti turned to me, her face awash with confusion. “What?”

“I want to wear Hoopoe feathers for the Opet Festival.”

Ti-Yee shook her head. “It is cruel to pluck the feathers from a bird which gives you pleasure.”

“I do not like vulture feathers. Green, not blue.” I stomped my foot.

Meti leaned forward. “I too love green. What does this have to do with your first ritual performance? I have not even considered costumes. Although, you may be right. It is time to discuss it with the court seamstress.”

“But you already commissioned sheaths as blue as the Nile. Keshtuat said you ordered the blue wigs, and a cape of vulture feathers to look like wings.” Why didn’t she admit it?

The elders gasped as if a scorpion had crawled into their midst.

Meti turned to Ti-Yee, “The Vulture Deity? Who would order a garment worn by Nekhbet? The priests have not yet asked me, and the Festival draws close. Are they so insolent as to present me with this costume without my approval?”

Ay cleared his throat. “I should have informed you.”

Grand Djedti fidgeted. “The Priesthood of Amun will not be extending you the invitation.”

Meti plopped in her chair. Rejection did not suit her.

“Sit-Amun was chosen,” said Ti-Yee. “She must have commissioned this costume, which is far more ornate than the simple ones I wore. If she procured the real feathers of the sacred bird of Amun, then she has received the priest’s approval.” A blue blaze shot from her throat. She rubbed her lapis necklace, deep in thought.

“Tongues will flap,” said Ay. “The Sesh will see the sacred feathers and either be appalled or in awe of Sit-Amun.”

“If she succeeds in replacing us, it will crush our hopes of reviving the solar worship. Everything we have strived for will be lost.” Grand Djedti then cursed. “I fought hard to push you two ahead.”

My father interrupted. “Enough. I do not wish to eat of bitter fruit. Enough! So it is written that Sit-Amun will be honored as Nekhbet; not even the Pharaoh could change it.”

I ruined their joy. But I had set my heart on wearing a new costume for my first Opet Ritual to Aten. “Does this mean we cannot have costumes made?”

Grand Djedti and Ay let out uncomfortable sighs and looked at me with angry eyes.

“What you ask is not easy,” said Father.

Meti held my hands. “Not only are you incredibly intelligent, you are also wise. Just you wait, Sit-Amun.”

An idea had just blossomed—the sweet fragrance of defiance felt heady, yet in my core I worried that this plan might both regale and doom us.

T
wo weeks later when Meti and I entered Father’s private chambers, we saw that his attendant had packed a trunk. Father stuffed maps into a camel leather case.

Meti glared. “You are leaving? We just started our nightly deliverance of bread and ale to the soldiers. Already the demand is great.” Father shut the case. “Granite was discovered in my new southern quarry in Nubia.”

Meti planted her hands on her hips. “So send a messenger with instructions.”

Father grimaced. “This undertaking is critical. How can I not go?”

“I am well-healed from Meket-Aten’s birth and my miscarriage. I am nearing twenty years-old and middle age. I must conceive soon. Even your mother, who is old as straw, bears more children. I have been patient with your building plans and isolation while you meditate for weeks, but it is my responsibility to bear heirs. If it has not occurred to you, I simply cannot do it alone.”

He kissed her cheek. “When I return we will attend to that. I promise. But this granite quarry cannot be put off. We need to finish our temple.”

“What about the reliefs for the Gem-pa-Aten? They are not even completed. We cannot possibly wait until your return to make the deadline.”

Her sheer sheath fell open to reveal her naked flesh, hot and yearning. Father stroked her arm. “Do not be alarmed. The Amun Priests assured me that they would etch my red chalk line drawings into the sandstone walls of the Gem-pa-Aten Temple.”

“You trust them?” Meti wrung her hands. “But you enraged them after refusing to allow them to control our Aten Rituals. I cannot believe they would help us.”

“Mery-Ptah said he had commissioned new artists with techniques from afar that would amaze me. In fact, he swore it would be a day to be remembered by all.”

They only had to etch Father’s red outlines into stone and then paint. The colors would be familiar to any artist. Besides, he left careful instructions so no mistakes would be made. Why did Meti worry?

* * *

W
ith only three fortnights left until the great inundation of the Nile, the Sesh had long grown weary of the parched, relentless heat that sucked every drop of moisture from the people and land. The lushness of this well-watered garden hid the dehydrated desert beyond the high brick walls.

I plucked delphinium and safflower to cheer Meti up. Pulling back the date palms, something white glittered.

“Horse!” I hugged the perfectly carved token. “You have come back.”

Again, I traced my finger over the cool smoothness. Rubbing the hair mane and tail over my face, I let out a dreamy sigh. The peridot eye sparkled in the light. “Beautiful horse, I will love you and call you mine.”