Shadow of the Sun (The Shadow Saga) (9 page)

“Just a few more changes,” said Father.

Mother pointed. “You enlarged the courtyard? And you moved the walls in the offering halls again? We will need the Hanuti’s approval.” Netri kissed her cheek. “The Aten Temple must have the same perfection in this temporal world as exists in the celestial realm.”

“I do not understand that, my Heart. But your architectural drawings outshine your Father’s Amun structures. Will it make the Amunites angry?”

His eyes glittered. “The Hanuti have offered us their artisans to complete the statuary and the temple paintings.”

“Really? Then maybe they will support our rise to the throne after your father wests.” She placed a delicate hand upon his knee.

Father rubbed his chin. “I do not know. Mery-Ptah publicly opposes it. That Amun High Priest has great sway with the council.”

“Who else is even suitable to rule? Your other sisters’ consorts are weak. Besides, your mother favors you. Your father will announce us as co-regents, I am sure of it.”

Weighing the consequences, his face turned ashen. “If someone outside our lineage is placed upon the throne, our family dynasty will end.” Meti yanked her earring. “Your family has held the power for generations. The Sesh worship this lineage.”

“Could they do that to us, Father?” I asked and rubbed the middle of my forehead.

“It is quite possible,” he said.

My heart ached and I climbed upon his knee. “Just stay home with us.”

“I have duties, Beloved. The Pharaoh demands that I oversee the final construction on his mortuary temple, yet he changes his plans daily. I am torn to pieces supervising every detail.”

Hep-Mut arrived and noted the intensity of the conversation.

“The Pharaoh’s memory has become as useless as a candle in a sandstorm.” Meti leaned closer to his ear. “Yet these moments of senility that dim his mind seem to increase his libido. I hear he beds all the chambermaids along with those Royal Ornaments.”

The dwarf ’s eyes grew wide. “Merit-Aten, let us go feed the fish.”

I ran to Hep-Mut, thankful to leave my parents’ discussion. Could someone else steal the throne? We entered the grand courtyard that separated our chambers from Sit-Amun’s. Thoughts of danger swirled in my mind.

“Noonday meal will be set out for us,” said Hep-Mut. “The sun is already bright against the whitewashed buildings. You could burn your eyes. I should fetch the kohl liner. Sit and wait.”

Never having been alone in the courtyard, it held a great mystery to my eyes. Walking the tiled path toward the pool, the lush garden blossomed with fragrant yellow acacias.

Hoooop. Hooop. Hooop. A little Hoopoe bird teased from a branch, just a bit farther than the pool. Every time I drew close, my exotic bird flew to the next bush, calling,
Follow me
.

Just as I parted the thick foliage of a drom palm, my eyes gazed upon a vision. Resting in a niche in the wall, inlaid with turquoise stars, stood a golden statue of a man. Below the golden man lay a lovely alabaster vase of chrysanthemums, next to a feast.

“Oooooooo, my lunch.” I plopped down and stuffed a honey cake in my mouth and drank the glass of beer.
Eewww. Adult beer. Too strong
.

Next to the delicacies, a palm-sized carved amulet glistened. Not just any token, but that of an ivory prancing horse with peridot green eyes and a tail and mane of real white horse hair. I galloped the icon up my arm and forced the two front legs up high. How did Hep-Mut know I loved horses? I belched. The posted guards paid no attention.

Something grunted. Maybe an animal had escaped from Grand Djedti’s zoo. I wandered toward the sound, clasping my little horse. What luck to find an amulet. Faraway, I heard my name. Grunting. A wild animal.

“Here, kitty,” I called, like I would call Grand Djedti Ti-Yee’s little cat, Tau Miu.

Maybe it hid in that red tent. Lengths of folded red linen tied with colorful cords flapped in the breeze. The grunting became rhythmic. I snuck in. Candles glittered. My eyes became accustomed to the dark. On a plush mattress upon a round pedestal, a woman on all fours cried from being pushed by a man kneeling behind. She threw back her head, covered by a thick black braided wig. Beads of sweat dotted her skin. The scarlet scarf wrapped about her waist matched her blush.

The woman moaned in agony then recited some ancient text. The words chilled me. Black swirls of smoke poured forth from their noses and mouths. Did their souls leave their body? She recited her incantation louder and the man’s hips thrust hard. The unfolding horrors left me queasy.

The man wore a panther skin over his shoulder, the insignia of a High Amun official. Frozen in my place, my heart pounded. The woman tilted her face down. Sit-Amun! Danger. Fear. Escape.

Why did Hep-Mut leave me? I could crawl away. Sit-Amun would never know. There would be no reason to banish my family. The smoky swirls rotated faster. Her body took on a fiendish glow. Another form imposed itself over hers. Mesmerized, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. At the crescendo, Sit-Amun lifted a bowl above her head. Large curling horns appeared like a transparent ghost over Sit-Amun, first a ram’s head, and lastly the body of a man. Huge muscled biceps overlaid those of the fleshy arms of Sit-Amun. Her grunts turned to a guttural moan, which curdled my stomach. Sit-Amun dumped the bowl of red liquid onto her head, and then like a desert jackal, she devoured it. The thick red tongue lapped it up. Blood. I could smell it.

She pulled out a dagger, brandishing it over a doll modeled after Grand Djedti. “Ti-Yee, I curse you. May death come to you upon the toes of night. May the ram of Amun emerge and consume the blood of this Semite.” A hot, wet trickle soaked my sheath and puddled at my feet. I knocked over the candle holder. Into the thick of the courtyard’s jungle I raced. The ale made my stomach churn. My head spun. I ran as fast as an ostrich. A woman shrieked, “Fire!”

Guards scattered. The courtyard erupted in chaos. A loud gong sounded. Attendants ran from every door with pails of water. My head pounded. I tripped. My white horse slipped from my hand and disappeared in the foliage. No time for tears.

Someone threw a blanket over me and dragged me away. My savior waddled to the closest door. Guards yelled orders. Heavy footsteps trampled the foliage. She banged against a locked door. The next one swung open. We tumbled in.

“Hurry,” said Hep-Mut, “into the storage closet.” She glanced both ways then yanked my hand. We slipped past scared attendants spreading news of an assassin. Hep-Mut tossed the flowers from a vase, dribbled the stinky water on my head then wrapped me in a dirty towel. “To the nursery.” Hep-Mut sang silly bath time songs to me down the hallway.

“Someone tried to kill Sit-Amun,” yelled the guard. They burned down her tent!”

Hep-Mut shooed him away. “The royal child must nap. Post the guards outside the nursery.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said the guard, bolting the door.

Hep-Mut turned and stared. “What mischief did you get into?”

My stomach felt hot. I purged upon the limestone floor then belched.

“Beer. How can that be?” Hep-Mut’s eyes grew wild. “Merit-Aten, did you eat the food laid out near the niche in the wall?”

“Yes.”

Hep-Mut wailed. Her little fists beat upon her chest as she moaned, although not nearly as loud as when she cleaned up the ink from Sit- Amun’s tray. But, orange swirls poured forth from my dwarf ’s abdomen signaling her irritation.

“Dearest, I set your lunch by the fish pond. The other was an offering to Amun, who will eat that food in solitude, then give blessings to Sit-Amun.”

“Why would Amun bless Sit-Amun for trying to hurt Grand Djedti?”

“What do you mean?”

I thrust my hands upon my hips. “She cursed Grand Djedti and tried to hurt the little doll.”

Hep-Mut narrowed her eyes. “You cannot tell anyone.”

I shivered and prayed. How could I have crossed her path yet again?

The Celestial Lords sent me to save my family. Now they were in danger because of me.

O
ver the next seven months, not a day went by without my recalling the gruesome interlude in the red tent. I worried that Sit-Amun would command my family to depart, so when a courier arrived with a papyrus wrapped with a golden string, I burst into tears.

HeMeti tore off the binding. “Why tears? Grand Djedti Ti-Yee requests that you accompany her to Karnak. Merit-Aten, this is quite an honor.” Meti stroked my face. “Women pass on all the knowledge of Khemit. You and I will be a link to our past and to our future, which bonds us and keeps this chain of history strong. Learn well, Little One.”

The Captain of the Guard, a large barrel-chested man, lifted me onto a gilded palanquin carved with golden heads of hawks. The Lady Ti-Yee wore the crown of two white ostrich feathers in front of a copper solar disk. A royal blue sheer shawl covered her left shoulder and tied at the hip over a yellow sheath with lapis-beaded embroidery around the hem. Her painted golden sandals were tooled with hieroglyphic blessings. The Khemitian title of Ti-Yee said it all: “She Is The One.”

Her stride was short and steady, and, like a lioness, her face wore a ferocious determined expression. Even her guards cowered. I would learn to make that fierce expression of undeniable power.

Docked at the harbor,
The Dazzling Aten
barge glistened in the gentle morning sun, with red and yellow flags snapping in the wind. Soon, we glided across the water, which glittered like liquid electrum. The wind swept back my side lock plaits. I felt relieved to leave Sit-Amun behind. What if that red ram could swim? I shuddered.

“Sit up straight. Do not fuss,” ordered Grand Djedti. Her thick golden bracelets, studded with turquoise, appeared to weigh down her tiny hands.

I quit bouncing. I yearned to stroke her cheek, knowing that Sit-Amun could have taken my grandmother’s life. The Per Aat abhorred sentimentality. I kept my hands in my lap.

“This is your first crossing of the River Nile. This river is the lifeblood that flows through the veins of our land.” Grand Djedti pointed with her chin.

The black alluvial soil painted the shoreline, reminding me why our country is named Khemit or KMT, meaning Black Land. Thick rows of crops sprung from the rich silt. I couldn’t see any trace of the hot, arid desert. Where could all that sand come from that scratched my face and infiltrated my clothing when the wind blew? Our barge docked. We disembarked and strolled past the palm-lined street toward Karnak. In the distance, a long, white tent draped a massive new construction.