Once we’re outside the temple again, Netiqret leads us along the river. “Tell me about ‘Ahmose.’” She says the name as if I’ve made it up, for some reason.
“Ahmose?” I look at her blankly.
“Short? Nervous all the time?”
“You know all there is to know, I think. He was a craftsman until about a decade ago, when he died suddenly. Spent most of the past ten years working the upper level. Then one day he woke up, and the all-loving Ka was trying to replace his arms with swords.” I smile tightly.
The crowds are thinning; the air near the Infernis is faintly corrosive and most avoid this route. Soon we find ourselves in relative isolation. Netiqret seats herself on a low wall and pats the spot next to her. “Are you the one who brought him back?”
I snort as I sit. “Of course not. Only the priests—”
“Fine. Fine.” She looks relaxed. “How much do you want for him?”
I stare at her. Don’t really understand for a long few seconds. “He’s myfriend.”
“Friend? You two don’t seem to have much in common.”
“That’s not how friends work, Netiqret.” I say it irritably. “Gods’ graves. He’s a good man. Trying to be better. Trying to come to terms with the fact that he lived his entire life believing a lie. In easier circumstances, we might not have had much to do with each other. But we do, and I respect him.”
She purses her lips at that. Leans forward, watching the pulsing lines of light running along the river. “Remember that he is also only a iunctus, Siamun. Most in Duat would tell you that Ka always protects the ones who should reach Aaru and that any he does not, have simply failed their trials. And that their loss has already been properly mourned.”
A long silence as my heart drops. The golden light of Ka’s pyramid subtly brightens. The marker of the changing of the hour, heading into afternoon. “What do you mean?”
I know what she means.
“I am sorry, Siamun,” she says quietly. “But the Nomarch is looking for him. He is just too much a risk.”
XLI
I IGNORE NETIQRET. HEART POUNDING.
Close my eyes, and focus.
I am in the dimly lit interior of Netiqret’s house; I launch Ahmose from his seat and make him take several strides until his back is toward the corner of the room.
“Sorry, Ahmose.” I have him whisper the words. “Netiqret is sending someone to kill you. Anything you need to tell me?” The faint sound of footsteps downstairs. I command him to respond as quietly as he can.
“I don’t know how to fight.” He breathes it.
I tell him to calm. To steady. I hate controlling him like this, and I know he will too, but better than the alternative. “I do. I’ll fight for you. Do you trust me?”
He does nothing for a long moment, then nods.
I take a half second to bring myself back, to open my eyes. Netiqret is crouched in front of me. Watching with intense curiosity.
“Call them off.”
“How?” she asks simply.
I stare at her. She’s not stopping me. Just … interested.
Vek.
She has no interest in getting rid of the risk Ahmose poses—or at least, it’s not the only reason she’s doing this.
I snarl and shut my eyes again. Footsteps on the stairs now. Ahmose’s heart races, but he’s steady.
I command him to give me control of his limbs, then extinguish the candles nearby, and draw back into the deepest shadows.
