“Papyrus scrolls to the scribes in the House of Life,” the priest said, piling her arms high with bundles. “Incense pellets and fresh linen to the sanctuary, and this goes directly to Master Montuhotep.” He handed her a long-necked wine jar, painted carnelian red. “He asked that you be the one to bring it to his chambers.”
Neff nodded her understanding and went on her way. She’d made so many deliveries in the days since she’d arrived that she already knew the temple layout, and many of the priests’ names, by heart. She wondered if that had been the master’s intention when he’d given her the assignment. Or perhaps he was trying to test her mettle, to see if she was truly up to the task of becoming a priestess. Either way, she’d fallen into bed each night and slept like the dead, only to be woken by the Wabet at the break of dawn to bathe and scrub herself until she was raw. Her skin had already begun to take on the polished sheen of everyone else at the temple. To her dismay, she’d been so busy that she hadn’t had time to serve as Prince Kenna’s assistant, as promised. She’d seen him several times in passing but only long enough for a hurried greeting. She hoped that soon that might change.
She threaded her way through the crowds, taking the shortcuts she’d discovered. As she was about to round a corner, she stopped short at a familiar voice.
“The healers are hopeless,” the man said. “They’ve tried every potion, administered every amulet. His condition only worsens. He is asking for us now, though I worry even we have little hope against such a demon. I’ve seen the awful brown marks on his hands and feet—he tries to hide them under sandals and makeup—and his behavior is… erratic.”
Peering around the corner, she spied the Heka priest she’d crossed on her first day at the temple and his two companions as they proceeded through the corridor. Though Neff was still in awe of them, they looked far less intimidating without their animal masks.
Who are they talking about?she wondered. Interested, she remained hidden behind a statue as they walked past.
“We must be careful,” one of the other two said. “He may be ill, but he could still have us beaten for failing to cure him. Or worse.”
The third priest scoffed. “He doesn’t have it in him.”
The first priest made a harsh noise, like a curse. “Watch your words. The walls have ears.” He peered into the shadows near where Neff was hiding, but moved on.
Neff waited before emerging. Was it possible they were talking about the king? She remembered gossip about his illness back in Bubas. But a demon that even the most powerful Heka priests in the land could not vanquish? Her curiosity about the situation, and about the Heka priests themselves, grew. She knew she’d been brought to the temple to learn to be an Hour priest, but she couldn’t get the image of that living snake staff out of her mind. For now, though, she needed to hurry before the master noticed she was late.
She dropped off the papyrus, incense, and linen in short order, then made her way outside toward Master Montuhotep’schambers. She’d made many mistakes that first day but learned quickly from them. For all her complaints about the many long days she’d spent at the market, her father’s insistence on hard work and tenacity was serving her well in her new role.
She weighed the wine jar in her hand—her last delivery. She hadn’t spent much time with the master since her arrival, but Neff got the feeling that his opinion of her hadn’t improved. Once she’d recovered from the trauma of that first day and gotten accustomed to her reflection in the mirror, Neff had focused on learning whatever she could at the Temple of Amun. She’d tried more than once to ask the master when her lessons would begin, but he’d simply batted her away like a gnat humming at his ear.
At the flat-roofed white building just outside the temple courtyard, she took a deep breath before knocking on the polished wooden door.
A strident voice called out from within. “Enter.”
Neff licked her lips and went inside. She was greeted by an oppressive darkness. The wooden shutters on both windows were closed and covered with thick curtains, effectively transforming the chamber into a shadowy cave. Master Montuhotep sat on a reed mat in the center of the room, his face lit by a flickering oil lamp burning on a low table before him.
“I-I’m sorry to interrupt, Master,” Neff stammered, suddenly feeling that she’d blundered into the middle of a ritual. “I was told to deliver this parcel to you right away.” She hurriedly set the wine jar on the low table next to a small golden cup and was about to withdraw when Montuhotep spoke again.
“Shut the door, and sit down.”
Neff felt uneasy, but knew she must obey. With a bow, she turned and closed the door softly, before seating herself on a mat opposite him.
The master’s eyes, alive with reflected fire, regarded herbriefly before taking up the lamp and holding the flame to a bowl filled with small yellow rocks—some kind of resin. Soon, the resin began to burn.
“What do you know of dreams, child?” he asked.
Neff coughed as a plume of pungent, bittersweet smoke filled her nostrils. “I don’t know much,” she began, recovering herself. “Only that they are messages from the gods, and that Hour priests can tell us their meaning.”
“Correct,” the master replied. “The gods do not speak directly, as men do. They speak in images and symbols, and so Hour priests must become fluent in the divine language. To be given this opportunity is a rare honor—not everyone is suited to hear the word of a god.”
He paused, folding his hands neatly on the table between them. “The high priestess delivered you here with assurances that you were touched by Bast. Still, the journey from layman to priest is long—longer for a common girl like yourself. Do you truly wish to drink from the primeval waters, child? To fill yourself with its secrets? Or would you rather I send you back to Bubas and your mother’s knee? I could bear the high priestess’s wrath. You have seen for yourself the hardship of temple life. I will not make it easy for you, nor will any other priest in this place. It is understandable that you would not wish to remain here. No one would blame you for going home. Not even the goddess.”
His mouth tightened, and he regarded her with glittering black eyes. “I warn you: once you drink from those waters, the act cannot be undone. For the right person, it can bring about enlightenment, but for the wrong one—it is a poison that will destroy you from within.”
Neff’s brow furrowed. When she’d come to the temple, she’d imagined learning to read the gods’ words, poring over scrolls, unlocking the mysteries of the divine. But what Montuhotep spokeof was very different from long days spent in candlelit libraries.
It sounded dangerous.
Perhaps she should accept the master’s offer and leave this place while she still had the chance. Isn’t that what she’dwanted when they cut off her hair and turned her into a stranger? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be home again? Back to her own sleeping mat, to her family and friends, to days spent selling spells at the marketplace with her father?
She paused.
How would Yati react if I returned home from the temple? To know that I gave up on the priesthood before even trying?Mother would be thrilled to have her back, but would he?
No. He’d be disappointed.
