The four of them turned back to where Omari lay in the dirt.
He was gone.
The only evidence of what had happened was a pool of dark blood and a small papyrus scroll. Rae picked it up, dumbfounded. “I don’t understand. He was out cold. I thought he was dead! How could he have gotten up and walked away?”
Buto shrugged. “Omari’s a tough fellow. Maybe the injury looked worse than it was.”
“I don’t think so. It was bad.”
Kay said, “Maybe he’s heading back to Sakesh without us.”
“Maybe,” Rae murmured, unconvinced.
She went to check on the little priestess, who was sitting on a rock, catching her breath.
“I’m so sorry for what happened,” Neff said, sniffling, her eyes wet. “I know you two were close, and if it wasn’t for me—”
“If it wasn’t for you,” Rae broke in, “I would not get the chance to save my father. Omari chose his fate, and I’ve chosen mine.”
Rae had a feeling there would come a time when she’d have to reckon with the repercussions of her actions. When the horror of her clash with Omari would come back to haunt her.
She lay a gentle hand on Neff’s shoulder and forced a confident expression onto her face. “Let’s talk about how we get you back to the palace where you belong.”
Neff nodded gratefully and gestured to the tiny scroll in Rae’s hand. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know. It must have fallen out of Omari’s pocket when he collapsed.” She unrolled it. In the dim moonlight, she squinted at the words written in the common script. Her eyebrows lifted.When she was done, she handed it to Neff. “What do you think of this?”
Neff read the note and a little color returned to her face. “I think our chances of success just improved.”
26Sita
After so many hours on horseback, traveling past nothing but rocks and sand, Thonis and the Iteru were a welcome sight. Not wishing to be discovered, Sita and Dumiya skirted the city, only approaching when they reached its northern edge, near the Temple of Amun. Once there, they directed the horses to the riverbank, where the animals drank their fill. Sita patted her mount appreciatively. It had been a long, arduous journey, and they’d pushed the horses hard.
“Good boy,” she whispered to the stallion, then left him to graze.
She turned to Dumiya, who stood overlooking the city with her spear at her side. The silver-haired warrior appeared undaunted by the trek—on the contrary, she seemed energized by it. Sita moved to take in Dumiya’s view and spied some kind of activity going on at the temple. There was a large crowd assembling, many of them carrying baskets of grain, grapes, and other provisions.
“They’re probably celebrating the Festival of Renenutet,” Sita guessed. “It’s a bit late, but with my father’s passing and the coronation, it was likely delayed.”
Dumiya gave her a questioning look.
“Oh—right, sorry,” she said, remembering that Dumiya was a Hudjefa tribeswoman and had no knowledge of Khetaran festivals. “Renenutet is the cobra-headed goddess of the harvest. She’s also the pharaoh’s divine nurse, who cares for him from birth until death. Every year during the harvest, people bring offerings of food to honor her.” In an attempt to communicate more clearly, Sita used hand gestures to illustrate what she was saying.
Dumiya nodded with polite interest, though Sita sensed that the older woman’s opinion of those who worshipped gods with snake heads was low at best. Then Dumiya made two quick motions with both hands, first a pinching gesture, then an opening movement with palms up. Dumiya accompanied this with another questioning expression. It took Sita a moment, but then she understood.
What do we do now?
Sita replied, continuing to use hand gestures as she spoke, “I can’t thank you enough for your help getting me here, but we must part ways. I don’t know how the palace guard would react to seeing a Red Land tribeswoman on their doorstep, and I will not put you in any more danger than I already have. I will leave the horses with you and continue on foot. My advice is that you patrol the outskirts of the city and watch for Karim.”
The mention of his name brought fresh yearning to Sita’s heart. “I don’t know when he might arrive, as he will secure your tribe’s safety first, but once he does, he’ll be able to tell you where to go to rejoin them.”
Dumiya dipped her head in understanding, then tilted it toward the growing crowd at the temple, her eyebrow raised.What about them?The warrior clearly thought it would be difficult for Sita to make a stealthy approach with so many people about.
“Oh, that’s no problem,” Sita explained. “In fact, it’s perfect. I want to make a grand entrance. The more people who see me, the better.”
Dumiya gave her a small, roguish smile. Then she lay a sinewy, freckled hand on Sita’s shoulder, squeezed it, and turned to leap astride her horse. Grabbing the reins of Sita’s black mount, Dumiya led both horses back south and away.
Alone on the riverbank, Sita removed the serpent staff from its harness and held it before her. It was large and would attract quite a bit of attention, and although she intended for her return to be noticed, she didn’t want Meryamun—or anyone else—to see the staff and guess at her newfound powers. Then again, leaving it behind was out of the question.
