“Where?”
“South of here in Sakesh, on a farm by the side of the river,” Karim replied.
“‘Take heed, Sakesh, Great House of Ra…’” the girl murmured to herself. “What did she look like?”
“A tall, strapping young woman. She offered me fish and some other supplies, and in exchange I gave her two pieces from my collection. A gold ring, and a small lion amulet.”
“A lion… like Sekhmet,” Neff mused.
“Exactly so.”
“Maybe the meeting wasn’t a coincidence at all.”
Once again, Karim was reminded of the river’s current, inexorably pulling him to some unknown destination.
“Well, sena,” he said, “I’ve answered your questions. It’s time for you to hold up your end of the bargain. I need to find out whatever I can about Setnakht. The old priest seemed to think he was the key to everything.”
The girl nodded. “Fine. But we’ll have to hurry. Most of the priests are taking their midday meal, so they’ll only be out of the way for the next hour or so.” She started to walk, then stopped again. “The only problem is, I’m not good enough at reading the sacred word to find what you’re looking for so quickly. It would take me all day.”
Karim ran a hand over his black stubble. Time was slipping away. “Isn’t there anyone who can help us? Someone who’d be willing to bend the rules a little?”
For the first time, the girl smiled. “There is one person we could try.”
***
Nefermaat led Karim to a large airy chamber, lit by sunlight that poured in through broad windows on the far wall. As they approached the room, Karim’s senses were assaulted by the smell of fragrant spices and salt, so powerful that it made his eyes water. A table ran along one wall, covered with tools arrayed in orderly lines—jars of various sizes, grass brushes fastened with palm leaf, sharp flakes of obsidian, and two thin metal shafts—one with a sharp end, and one that looked like a very long spoon. In the corner of the room, Karim was surprised to see the same sacks that the long-faced vendor and his donkey had just delivered.
Natron for the embalmers.
He shivered, understanding that grim collection must be for acting out the Khetaran embalming ritual. It was exceptionally strange, particularly in contrast to his people’s custom of burying their dead within the day and marking the grave with a bed of stones. But strange though it was, the practice was also familiar. He’d seen its results dozens of times inside the tombs he’d robbed. Still, coming upon the thousand-year-old mummies out in dark desert caves was one thing. Seeing an embalming performed in person was quite another.
A small, slight young man stood with his back to them in the middle of the chamber. He wore a long schenti belted at the waist and nothing more, and Karim could clearly see the bones of his spine as he bent over the stiff, desiccated corpse in front of him. It was the body of an elderly woman, held aloft by two pedestals. Her arms were crossed demurely over her chest, and her long, neatly braided gray hair curled over one shoulder like a cat’s tail. Her skin had turned the color of earth and shone with a coating of fragrant resin. The man was carefully wrapping the woman with inscribed bandages, the roll unwinding as he passed it over and under her body with practiced precision. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice their arrival.
“Kenna?” Nefermaat said softly.
The young man stopped and turned to look at them. He had a severe, ill-proportioned face—the nose too big, the chin too sharp, the neck too long. He reminded Karim of a vulture hunching over carrion in the desert.
“Neff,” Kenna said, the skin around his eyes crinkling with pleasure. Then, his gaze flicked to Karim and turned curious. “Who’s this?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” the girl replied. “But I was hoping you’d be able to help my friend. He needs to find information about an old king who seems to have been erased from the public records. A pharaoh named Setnakht. He thinks there might be mention of him in our House of Life.”
Kenna gently set down his roll of wrappings on the dead woman’s abdomen. “Yourfriend…” he said with obvious suspicion.
“Greetings to you,” Karim said with a nod. “I’ve come a very long way to be here, and I’d deeply appreciate your assistance.”
“A long way, yes,” Kenna replied, studying him. “You’ve just come off the river. I’m sure your dog was pleased to be ashore after such a lengthy journey.”
Karim was thunderstruck. Did everyone in this temple know who he was? But even Nefermaat seemed surprised.
“You must be quite keen to find answers here,” Kenna went on, “Men of the Red Lands aren’t usually fond of traveling by boat.”
“How… how do you know all this?” Karim asked when he found his voice. “You are a priest—is this magic?”
Kenna’s smile was a crooked thing that hung a little uncomfortably on his face. “Ah, no. There’s no need for Heka when simple observation will suffice. Despite your Khetaran garb, everything about you indicates you’re from the Red Lands. Your accent, your manner—even your facial hair. And your tunic tells me all the rest. Not only is it suffused with the scent of the river,it’s also covered with quite a few of these.” He walked up to Karim, plucked something from his tunic, and held it up to show him. A black dog hair. “The animal must be quite devoted to you, to leave so much of himself behind.”
In that moment, Karim realized lying to this man would be a mistake. Clearly, Kenna would see right through it.
“Everything you say is true, sen. I know how your people view mine, so I suppose it would be natural for you to refuse to help. But I, too, have eyes to see, and I believe you have a fondness for this girl, this Nefermaat.” He’d noticed the way the embalmer had brightened when she’d walked into the chamber. “She and I have only just met, but she’s chosen to trust me. To help me. Perhaps, for her sake, you could do the same?”
