The girl scurried to the window, leaving Nebet to supportthe queen alone. The attendant threw the window curtain aside, allowing a humid breeze to blow through the chamber. The queen sighed with relief, her body sagging heavily against Nebet, who struggled to hold her weight until the other girl resumed her post.
“Ah… that feels good,” the queen muttered.
Near the bed, the cat raised her pink nose to the air. She smelled something strange. Something beyond the scents of sand and stone, of green things pushing through the black earth. It was a smoky, burning smell, laden with honey and wine, juniper and myrrh. It rode the western wind, its origins unknown.
“Queen Bintanath…” Nebet said warily, after kneeling to peer between the woman’s legs.
“What? What is it?” the queen asked. Her eyelids drooped with exhaustion.
“I’m afraid I can see the baby’s head. There is no more time.”
The queen gritted her teeth. “No,” she said, a note of despair in her voice. “It can’t happen this way. It’s not right… A king needs his blessings—he needs his gods-given name! Wherearethey, Nebet?”
Nebet turned to look at the door once more, her eyes narrow, beseeching, as if she were manifesting a savior to walk through it by sheer force of will.
Another strong breeze blew into the chamber. It lifted the door curtain, sending it billowing into the corridor beyond. At the same moment, three women entered the room. Two were tall and willowy—one dark, one fair—their hair fashionably dyed deep blue. The third was short and sun-weathered, her mottled skin covered in warts. All three women wore long white gowns, belts of turquoise and lapis, and beaded headdresses over their plaited hair.
Queen Bintanath jerked up her head to look at them, her expression first of relief, then of confusion. “Who are you?” she demanded. “How dare you enter this chamber without my leave!”
“Calm yourself, dear lady,” the short one said, her voice low and graveled. Her right breast hung over the scoop of her gown and swung gently as she approached the queen. “We are here to help.”
The queen’s confusion only deepened. “Help? Did Nurse send you?”
The fair one smiled, her blue lotus–colored eyes crinkling. “We were sent, yes,” she said.
The queen looked from one woman to the other, still suspicious. “You don’tlooklike nurses…”
“My sister and I are mother to many children,” the dark one added softly. Despite the difference in their eyes—hers were obsidian black—the two women looked quite similar. “And our companion has attended innumerable births. We are but simple dancers, my lady, visiting from afar—but if you trust us, we will help you welcome your children to this world.”
“Children?” the queen asked, puzzled by the plurality.
The short one nodded. “Not one, but three.”
The queen opened her mouth, perhaps to deny this, but what came out instead was a deep moan. “It’s coming again,” she cried, “It’s happening too fast.” The pain drove whatever protest she might have made from her mind. “Yes, help me,” she begged them. “By the gods, help me!”
Without a word, the three women moved with graceful, practiced movements—the fair one before the queen, the dark one behind, like a shadow, and the short one positioned low, her leathery hands reaching between the laboring woman’s legs. Nebet and the other attendant backed away, wide-eyed and awed by the three strange dancers.
As waves of agony crashed over the queen, unrelenting now, the short woman croaked a command:
“Push!”
The queen gripped the fair one’s arms, squeezed her eyes shut, and screamed.
Before and behind her, the sisters held her and swayed, whispering words unknowable.
“Push!”
The queen took a ragged breath and screamed again. Moments later, a small, fleshy bundle dropped into the short woman’s hands and let out a lusty cry. Taking a piece of sharpened flint from her belt, she cut the cord and handed the wet, squalling infant to the dark one.
“A boy,” the dark one said, gazing at the child with those flashing midnight eyes. “Meryamun—He Whose Face Is the Sun.”
The attendants gaped at each other in shock. To not only deliver the new king, but to name him? Everyone knew that honor was reserved for the high priest of Amun. Who were these women to demonstrate such brazen heresy?
But the queen, still in the throes of labor, gave no protest. “The pain, why has it not ceased?” she cried out instead.
The short one reached once more between the queen’s legs. “Because you are not done, my lady. Now, again—push!”
The queen roared and bore down, her toes curling into the bricks beneath her feet. Within moments, another baby was delivered into the short woman’s speckled hands. Cutting the cord, she handed the second child to the fair sister.
