But just in case he wasn’t… Karim knew what he had to do.
“He said that Setnakht was an adherent to the master of storms,” he said to the young embalmer. “Is that—” Karim tipped his head toward the dog-headed god.
“Yes, that’s Set—lord of the desert, god of chaos and war. Osiris’s brother and murderer. Osiris is the divine king of Khetara and god of the underworld,” Kenna replied. “I have read of a small cult who once worshipped Set, but nothing like this.”
Kenna crossed his arms. “The letter seems to suggest that the entire kingdom was temporarily converted to Set’s worship. I’m amazed that such a significant event in history could be so effectively erased, but then…” A look of sadness passed over his face. “Khetara remains great in part by keeping its demons and its failures hidden in shadow.”
Karim regarded the man with curiosity. There was something noble and elegant about the little embalmer, despite his strange appearance.
“We must go,” Neff urged them. “The scribes will return at any moment.”
Karim nodded. “Of course. I don’t want either of you to get into trouble on my account. I owe you both a great debt.”
“Perhaps you can repay it by telling me what this is all about?” Kenna said. “The fear in your eyes betrays you. What does a desert tribesman have to do with a thousand-year-old Khetaran king?”
Just as Karim thought he must come up with an answer, a pale crooked man lurched down the stairs and spotted them.
“My prince!” the man exclaimed. “I… was not aware you were visiting this afternoon. To what do I owe this honor?” Hisprotuberant eyes flicked from Kenna, to the girl, to Karim.
Karim was sure he hadn’t heard correctly. Had he mistaken the embalmer for someone else?
Kenna cleared his throat. “I apologize for not informing you, Chief Scribe,” he said. “But I needed to access a specific embalming text, and Nefermaat was kind enough to help me find it. She’s grown quite conversant under your wise tutelage.”
“Oh!” the chief scribe said, preening. “Yes, the girl has potential—but, erm, who is this, if I may ask?” He tilted his chin at Karim.
Kenna walked to the elderly man and placed a slender hand on his shoulder. “He is my guest,” he said, in a tone that bore no argument. “And now he must be on his way. Young Neff, will you walk him out? I wouldn’t want him to get lost and end up somewhere he’s not meant to be.” Kenna raised an eyebrow at Karim.
Karim put on a face of pure innocence.
“Of course, Prince Bakenamun,” Neff said, bowing her head. She turned to Karim. “Come along.”
Speechless, Karim followed her to the door, passing the perplexed chief scribe and Kenna on the way. He touched a knuckle to his nose. Kenna pursed his lips and nodded, once.
When they emerged from the House of Life into the blazing afternoon light, Karim stopped and glanced over at the young priestess. “PrinceBakenamun?”
“The very one,” Neff replied with a smile. “We were very lucky he was with us. The chief scribe wouldn’t have let you and I go so easily.”
Karim scoffed as they made their way toward the temple gate. The embalmer’s eloquence and noble manner made a lot more sense now that he knew he was of royal birth. “You could have told me.”
“Why should I?” Neff retorted. “You would have treated him differently if you knew, and that’s why he’s here and not atthe palace. I thought you of all people would understand. You assumed Kenna wouldn’t trust you once he figured out you were from the Red Lands, but he did. What assumptions would you have made about him, if you’d known he was a prince, and not some common priest?”
Karim chuckled. “You know, I have two sisters your age, and neither of them are as irritating as you.”
“Only because I’m right,” she retorted. “Besides, why should I be honest with you, when you’re obviously still hiding something from me? You haven’t even told me your name.”
Curse this child, Karim thought.She and her prince are mind readers.
“You may call me the Jackal.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “Really? I understand wanting to guard your name, but haven’t I earned your trust?”
Karim sighed. “Very well, sena. You drive a hard bargain.” He paused. “My name is Karim.”
“Well, where are you going next, Karim? I heard the contents of that letter, as you did. It’s interesting, but how does it help us understand anything about the Oracle of the Lamb?”
“The letter mentioned that Setnakht built his own capital city, apart from the Khetaran capitals,” Karim replied. “I’m going to try and find it. There’s got to be more answers to be found there, even if it’s in ruins.”
“But how?”
