Neff’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? How could this be your fault?”
“Sita tried to tell me something was wrong at the palace. She practically begged for my help, hinting that there was something suspicious about Father’s illness. But I didn’t want to listen. Ithought it was just her imagination…” He turned to look at his father’s body, emptied of all its secrets. “I should have listened to her.”
Neff’s breath still came in halting gasps, but she was relieved he wasn’t angry at her. “What are you going to do?”
Kenna shrugged. “What can I do? Mery is poised to be crowned. If I know my brother, he’s already gathered support from the viziers and the other priests. Father had enemies in his own administration who would jump at the chance to swear allegiance to a bold new pharaoh. In fact, I’d wager that some of them were in on this plan. If I cast accusations at him, I’d only be endangering myself and those around me.”
Neff thought of the fierce young prince she’d met in the palace, so different from his gentle brother. She thought of him seated on the throne, his radiance so dazzling that it blinded people from seeing who he truly was.
With that thought came a sudden rush of impending doom, and the doleful voice of the lamb from her dream.
Beware, for soon the Great River of Khetara will turn to blood.
“Mery has won,” Kenna continued.
Take heed, Thonis, Great House of Amun!Beware of what is unseen among you!
“There’s nothing I can do but move on.”
Sorrow and ruin to the Children of the Two Lands!
Neff gasped.
“Are you all right?” Kenna asked.
“You must stop him,” she said.
“I can’t.” His tone was apologetic. “The throne is his.”
Numb, Neff watched Kenna move the sack of natron over to the body and begin packing salt into the king’s empty torso.
It can’t end this way, she thought.But if a prince can’t do anything, what can I do? Why would the gods choose someone aspowerless as me for this task?
“I’ll get you some fresh water,” Neff offered, taking up the basin. She needed an excuse to get some air.
She turned to leave and saw a cat sitting in the doorway, sniffing the air. It was old and striped, probably one of the palace cats that roamed freely. Its eyes narrowed as it took in the strong scents, and the fur on its back stood on end. Then it padded away, to a place where the air wasn’t so heavy with death.
Or maybe it was more than that. Maybe the cat sensed the dark portents hanging over her, over the room and the body, over the young priest who believed in gods and rituals but not in himself, over the chaos that would stem from his silence.
She followed in the cat’s wake, holding the basin tight to her body as if to give her the courage she didn’t feel. Someone had to act. And in the absence of another option, that someone would have to be her. She still didn’t understand why Bast chose to bring her to this place, chose to lay this challenge at her feet, but then again, who was she to question the will of the gods?
Show me what I must do, goddess, Neff thought,and it will be done. I will be silent no longer.
24
Paws
Prey skulked nearby. She could smell it, young and tender. It would shriek when she sank her teeth into it, which always made her want to bite harder.
The striped cat slipped silently through the passageways of the palace, tracking the scent. Night had fallen, so she’d returned from her day at the temple. She’d often go there to partake in the burnt offerings meant for the gods. And why not? She too, was a kind of god. Should she not have her bit of flesh?
It had been a trying day. None of the humans were adhering to their normal routines. Everything alive smelled like tension, and everything else smelled like death.
It reminded her of a night long, long ago, when she was barely out of kittenhood, and rain had fallen from the sky in torrents. The cat hadn’t seen any clouds on her way back to the palace that evening, and yet it felt as if a storm was coming once more.
She followed the scent of prey into a chamber flickering with candlelight. A young man sat at a table, studying a strange object. It was a flat piece of wood with the image of a coiled snake carved into it, its body divided into sections. Black and red stones of various sizes were placed within the snake’s coils, as well as two larger pieces of each color. The man held several short sticks that were white on one side and black on the other. He rolled the sticks in his hand and stared at the snake, deep in thought. All around him, half-curled papyri lay in messy piles, twitching and sliding across one another in the breeze.
He paid the cat no mind as she entered—few did, exceptthose who stopped to offer worship with a scratch behind the ears. Most people simply allowed her passage wherever she wished. It had always been that way, and somehow, she knew it always would be.
