Shadow of the Sun (The Shadow Saga) (7 page)

“Where is HeMeti?” I searched the river of faces, none as beautiful as my Meti.

Hep-Mut paled and tensed. “She needs her rest. Tonight is the Banquet for the Full Harvest. Your grandfather, Grand Djed will make a special announcement.”

I hung my head and averted my eyes. Disappointment weighed on me like a warm shawl in the summer. I watched Rennutet, the shy girl, joyous that her HeMeti brought a honey cake.

“Will Mother come tomorrow?” I asked.

Hep-Mut shrugged.

“Will the Royal Ornaments attend tonight?”

“Hush, do not let them hear you.” Hep-Mut placed a forefinger against her lips. “The court women are jealous of the favor the foreigners receive from your Grand Djed.”

“Why does Grand Djed need more than Sit-Amun and Ti-Yee as his Royal Consorts?”

“Sit-Amun is the younger sister of the Pharaoh. Unfortunately, she is barren. The Pharaoh united with our Lady Ti-Yee, who produced five children, so he gave her the power and title of the High House, his
Per Aat
.”

“Then why does Grand Djed need more children?”

“Toes of Thoth, child. How else will Pharaoh prove he is still a fertile bull unless he parades his offspring through the streets of Thebes? All men dream of proving themselves worthy to a woman by being fruitful and multiplying.”

“So Grand Djed’s other children are his calves?”

Hep-Mut giggled. “Our Khemitian law requires all foreign rulers to send their sisters or daughters as proof of their allegiance to Khemit. Your Grand Djed and Djedti, as wise as elephants, turn these Babylonian, Nubian, Semite and Chaldean enemies into loyal citizens.”

“Do we have enemies?” I asked, feeling that I needed my special power more than ever to keep us safe. “More than you can imagine. Trust no one,” advised Hep-Mut.

I
huddled alone in my room, thankful for the solitude. On the soft Nile-blue painted walls swam fishes in the careless waves. Ducks paddled across the peaking surface and birds hovered midair, all under the watchful eye of the Aten’s loving rays.

My head throbbed as I mounted my ebony wood bed with the double panther heads and feet gracing the footboard with their tails circling the top for my headboard. The chatter of students, the adults bickering about peace, and Sit-Amun’s sinister threats wrapped around her false smile made my nerves burn like a scorpion sting. Too much had happened that I didn’t comprehend. Certain that Sit-Amun had disclosed to Father about Hep-Mut’s and my intrusion into her private chambers and stealing a look at that Magic Papyrus of Amun left me irritable and on edge.

Chiding myself for being a fool, of course I knew I shouldn’t sneak into her estate, but making myself stop had been impossible. That book called to me, teased me, prompted me to break the rules and taste the magic it offered. Then I spilled the red potion upon those unblemished antique pages. What was that red concoction anyway? It looked like blood. Blood? Whose blood? My shoulders tensed. Sit-Amun's? Someone else’s? And what was that rotting meat in the bowl that had been covered in a black sheet of flies? I thought it looked like one of those sacs between a naked peasant boy’s legs. But that was silly. Why would anyone want one of those?

Maybe it was from the animal in that draped cage. I was sure I heard it whine and shake its confinement. Maybe a hurt dog or cat suffered in her prison. Or, a boy. That thought was just too horrible. I’d never be allowed in that room again, and worse, I didn’t dare reveal what I saw. Hep-Mut would make sure of that. We were blessed this time that Sit-Amun didn’t hurl my family from this fine palace. Next time, we might not be as lucky.

I heard what Hep-Mut and The Bath Mistress had said, ‘that there are barbarians at the borders and we are safe here.’ Such a terrible world outside the wall. Far too dangerous to even be curious. No matter how terrifying Sit-Amun is, it was better than being cast out like peasants. Look at all those foreign women and children herded like water ox to Khemit, desperate to escape their life among barbarians. If their existence was so wonderful in Mitanni, then their Ruler, Tushrata, couldn’t possibly allow his beloved sisters and daughters to come to this distant land. I shuddered. Could Father and Mother send me away too? Silent tears dripped down my cheeks. My heart would break if I had to leave my family, my homeland, my Khemit.

I didn’t want to go back to that school, either. Seeing all the children excited me at first. After all, Hep-Mut said that they were now loyal citizens. But they hadn’t welcomed me into their fold. They mocked me for aching to learn about magic. Meti wouldn’t tolerate such insubordination. How old did I have to be to command their respect? None of them would ever treat Sit-Amun that way.

And clearly, they knew nothing of magic. I bit my lip. Now what would I do? I knew I’d have to keep secrets from them. Why does the truth have to be kept in the dark?

I needed to sleep before tonight’s Banquet for the Full Harvest and Grand Djed’s announcement. Sleep to escape the exhaustion. What were those three words that I promised to remember back in the heavenworlds?

G
rand Djedti wrung her hands. “Pentu, this is most inopportune. Could you not save it?”

Her double-plume ostrich feathers upon her golden crown vibrated as she shivered.

Our Physician bowed low with both hands crossed over his collar bone. “I tried, Your Majesty. Nefertiti miscarried during the night. I am afraid there was nothing I could do.”

My Meti sat huddled in a low chair in a darkened corner and rocked, her arms locked over her womb. Her sweat-soaked sheath clung to her body. Father rubbed her shoulders and whispered words of comfort. “How does she fare?” asked the Per Aat as she smoothed her silver pleated robe and glanced over her shoulder to the dazed young woman. “She is weak,” replied Pentu. “She could be scarred from her two other births with these longer headed children. This could prove difficult for her to have more heirs.”

“If she cannot then my son will have to take another consort,” said Ti-Yee through gritted teeth. “We are supposed to announce her pregnancy tonight. This is a bad omen.” Grand Djedti sprinkled a vial of golden dust on the candle. “Praise be to the Aten, may this night go well.”

I gulped. When Pentu explained that Meti lost her child, I thought it meant that she had misplaced it. It dawned upon me now that no new
akh
would be forthcoming. I wept. We needed more heirs.

“I administered a healing remedy to soothe and lift her mood,” said Pentu. “But I warn you it will only last a short time. Has the Pharaoh confirmed he will announce their co-regency tonight?”

Ti-Yee said, “He said that he has news which will make me happy. Now, where is that old goat? He should have arrived by now?” The Per Aat peeked through the heavy red drapes at the crowd. The layers of court officials flaunted their wealth and obsession with fashion. Dressed in full regalia of folded linen robes decorated with costly gems, they glittered like a jeweled collar when they arranged themselves at the long tables. The Per Aat noted her other daughters and their consorts sitting amongst Khemit’s elite. A low chatter started as their impatience grew.

A clatter came from the back. Grand Djedti craned her neck to see. Pharaoh Amunhotep The Magnificent staggered in, bedecked by two Royal Ornaments. The exotic beauties tried to steady the drunken Grand Lord of Khemit, but their petite frames couldn’t support his obesity. He teetered.

“You may rise, your Pharaoh has arrived,” he bellowed. His lopsided royal Nemes head cloth revealed his balding head while his gold uraeus slipped down over his eyes. Tadukhepa, his young new Mitannian lesser consort, walked behind, her eyes locked on the floor.

Everyone bowed low, their arms thrust forward. Grand Djed plopped down in his throne.

“Where is Ti-Yee?” he asked. Sit-Amun sat to his left. He patted the plump purple cushion on the empty throne next to him and searched for the Per Aat.

“Perhaps she forgot her own banquet,” said Sit-Amun with an anxious tone.

“Pentu, quick, we must do something,” said Ti-Yee. “If she is too weak to walk then carry her. She must make an appearance.” Ti-Yee then threw open the curtain. “Here I am, my Pharaoh!” She descended the stairs with grace. The electrum tips on her elaborate tripartite wig clinked. Her silvery gown cascaded behind her as a mountain stream. The guests clapped their hands upon the tables with approval. Ti-Yee swept her long costume to one side and gestured.

“Announcing the arrival of our Royal Son, Amunhotep, The Younger, and his consort, She Who Walks In Harmony, Nefertiti,” said Ti-Yee as the harpist played a tribute.

Father bent low and asked, “My Heart, can you walk?”

Meti stood up but her knees buckled. “I am too weak.”

“Guards!” Pentu motioned. “Let us use the screen.” The strong men yanked the crimson curtain down and pulled the gilt screen off the wall. When they laid it down, Meti climbed aboard. She left droplets of blood. “Netri, look” I pointed and felt sick. Netri fashioned that red beaded drape about Meti, hiding all evidence of her discomfort.

“Thank you, my Heart.” She offered a weak smile. “Pentu, she looks so pale,” said Father tugging the Physician’s arm. “Her miscarriage has drained away all color. She simply cannot proceed with this charade.”

“Here, use the gold dust and the moringa oil,” I said, picking up the vials. “You are indeed bright,” said Meti. I mixed the two and patted them upon her flesh and short bobbed Nubian wig that exposed the nape of her neck. She sparkled like a golden idol. Meti sighed. “My Heart, we must make our appearance. Once your father announces our co-regency and it is official, I shall spill a glass of wine upon myself and we can leave.”

Father considered her words, stroking his chin. “Only if you have the strength. I will not risk your health for political gain.”