I cough a rueful laugh. “Better get to it, then.”
And we begin again.
“FLOW.” AHMOSE STOPS ME. HE’S SAID IT TOO MANY TIMESover the past two hours for it to sound anything but irritable. “Dance is about opening yourself up to the audience. About embracing them. Trusting them. There must be no reservation and so you mustflow. Like water. You know this word, yes?”
“I gods-damned know the rotting word.” I stumble to a stop yet again, flicking drops of sweat from my torso. I’ve been doing everything I can to move smoothly and lithely, listening whenever we pause, trying to put into practice his suggestions and hiding my growing sense of frustration. This shouldn’t be hard. Logically, I am physically gifted. Well trained. Athletic.
“Then show me. Because you have not thus far.”
I shake my head. Slump into a chair. “We have time, Ahmose. It will be fine.”
“It has to be better than fine.” Ahmose’s customary anxiety is ill-hidden. “Do not take this lightly, Siamun. There is a reason we abandoned the lyre. If they think something is wrong …”
“Then they’ll turn me over to Ka. They’ll kill me.” At this point, it sounds better than having to do another gods-damned twirl.
“Which will killme.” He gives a weak smile. “Well. You know what I mean. But you can see why I’m concerned.”
I make a dismissive gesture. “You’re always concerned, Ahmose.”
“Thanks to you.”
I blink. There’s some actual venom in the retort, something more than weariness, and Ahmose is usually nothing if not courteous. “How is it my fault?”
Ahmose hesitates, as if caught out in his anger. Examines the ground, searching for the words.
“I told you a while ago about the work, after I died. That it was hard. Dull. Lonely.” He slumps into a seat. Not looking at me. “But I knew that once I was done, I would go to the endless fields and be with my loved ones. Do youunderstand the comfort that brings? No,” he says, answering his own question before I can say anything. “I cannot imagine that you do.”
He looks up. “You saved me, Siamun. Saved me from a nightmare, and I can never repay that debt. But you took something from me, too.” He exhales. “You took my belief. You took my comfort. And now instead of enjoying life, I fear death.”
Silence. I stare at him. Lost for words. I did tell him the truth, about Ka. About the Gleaners, and the falsehoods used to keep his people in check. Did I have to? Probably not. But it seemed only right, at the time. “I am sorry.”
“Do not be sorry. You did not take them with malice, nor with carelessness. I cannot say whether leaving me to my delusions would have been an act of love or violence. And I cannot say, if I was given a way to go back, whether I would.” He shakes his head. Meets my gaze, something he almost never does. “But that is why I am always nervous, Siamun. Because now I know just how much I have to fear.”
“I give you my word, Ahmose. My oath. Iwillkeep you safe.”
“I know.” A tight smile. We both know I could take away his concerns in a moment. And we both know that’s not what he’d want, not really, and that I would be insulting him to ask.
“You don’t have to do it, you know. Whatever it is you’re planning to do in the temple. Not because I’m afraid,” he adds quietly. “But because I can see that you are. Whatever all this is for, it bothers you. But we can still survive as we have been.”
I give him a crooked smile. He knows me better than I realised, apparently. “I don’t want to just survive, Ahmose. I don’t believe anyone deserves that.”
He gives a snort. “Your homeland must be very different from here.” His gaze lingers on my torso, and I know he’s thinking about the old stripes across my back. “You once told me that you ran from it. If you had the choice, would you go back?”
I consider. I’ve avoided telling him too much about where I’m from. The idea of there being different worlds is still barely one I can countenance; trying to tell anyone else will surely end in them considering me mad. “Some things are better there. Many things. And I miss my friends. Sometimes … appreciating what you have isn’t something we do well, I think.”
“You have no argument from me.” Ahmose sighs, then gestures. “Still. One thing I assume your homeland does not have is dance. And the Return is coming. So let us go again.”
I grin and do; as I slide through the latter section of the dance, there’s motion at the door and Netiqret sticks her head in. Watches without comment for the remainder of the section.
I ignore her until I come to a halt, breathing hard. “Well?” Unable to contain my hope. Sometimes incremental improvement is hard to appreciate. Perhaps Netiqret will see more than Ahmose has.
She considers. Eyes my back. “At least we won’t have to explain the whippings.”
She nods to Ahmose, then disappears again.
I stare after her as Ahmose chokes on a laugh. Glower at him.
Then haul my aching limbs into position, and start moving through the gods-damned motions once more.
