Then a new scent met his nostrils, riding the wind. It was bitter and strange—and it gave the ibis courage.
The man reached back into the net, groping for a throat to squeeze.
Not today!the ibis crowed with a surge of ferocity.I will not die today!
He stabbed his beak into the flesh of the man’s palm—once, twice,quick-quick. Blood fountained from the wound, and the hand jerked away. The man loosed a string of curses, and before his companion could close the net, the ibis launched himself into the air.
The strange-smelling wind lifted him up, away from angry words and reaching hands, away from his doomed brethren. He wheeled south, the mouth of the river and the green sea at his back, flying past farms and villages until he reached a great white city.
The ordeal transformed the ibis’s hunger into near starvation, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to fly much longer without stopping for food. Below, he saw a lush walled garden with a pond at its center. The garden lay in the shadow of a massive structure, and although the ibis could see many people flowing in and out of it, the garden itself appeared to be deserted.
Even better, he could see the silvery flash of scales beneath the pond’s surface.
When he got closer, however, the ibis saw that he’d been mistaken. Therewassomeone in the garden.
A girl and a cat were hidden among the rosebushes by thepond. The girl was reedy, hairless, and plumed in blue. Her bare feet were in the water, and she was muttering quietly to herself, over and over, like birdsong. Powerful energy emanated from her. Dangerous energy. It didn’t carry the lethal intent of the men who had captured the ibis’s flock, but it held dark portents. As if sensing the bird’s presence, the girl looked up. Surprisingly, her face was kind.
The striped cat looked up at him too, the pupils of her golden eyes widening. And although she looked old, the ibis could see the cat’s teeth were still as sharp as ever.
Death had nearly gotten him once already. It would be foolish to tempt fate a second time. The ibis clacked his beak in frustration and turned away.
He sailed past the garden and the buildings teeming with life and crossed to the other side of the river, the quiet side, where stone giants rose from an ocean of sand. The ibis had no strength left to hunt. He needed to eat and not become food for another. But where could he find an easy meal?
Movement attracted his attention. A single line of men, laden with goods, marched from a sailboat down into a valley inland from the river. The salty smell of fish wafted up from them, so the ibis decided to follow. With any luck, he could snatch up a bite or two without being noticed.
Sailing past the line of men, the ibis dipped down into the valley and alighted on a flat-topped acacia tree. From that vantage point, he could see many people at work, talking among themselves, piling food and all manner of strange things, and going in and out of a hole in the valley wall like ants. Strangest of all were the bald men huddling over a great many human corpses, efficiently disemboweling them one by one before filling them with white sand.
One of the men overseeing the gruesome work caught the ibis’s eye. He was birdlike himself, his nose beakish, his plumageas dingy and plain as the ibis’s own. Even his nest of black hair was reminiscent of the ibis’s tangle of tail feathers. The birdlike man walked to one of the bald-headed ones and said, “How much longer? We must get through the mummification rituals today, or these people will not be ready for the funeral. My father will be laid to rest in fewer than seventy days; his court must be prepared to join him in the tomb.”
The bald man wiped perspiration from his brow. “Apologies, Prince Bakenamun. We were not expecting these…” He paused. “These sacred dead. There are so many of them, and you know the rituals take time. We are going as quickly as we can.”
The birdlike man blinked, his irritation changing to remorse. “Of course, of course. It is I who should apologize. You and the other priests are doing your best; I should not have addressed you so sharply. We are all…adjustingto the new king’s doctrine.” He frowned. “But where is Montuhotep? Should he not be here supervising your work? I have been busy inside the tomb, directing the painters and engravers.”
The bald man cleared his throat. “The master says he is ill. He has taken to his bed, and I do not know when he will be well enough to attend to his duties here.”
The birdlike man ran a hand through his unruly hair, making it even messier. “For the love of Amun, must I do everything?” he muttered.
While they spoke, the ibis noted the other men had lain down their burdens and were returning to the boat, leaving the food unattended. This was his chance!
Fluttering down from his perch, the ibis landed before a delicious-smelling package tied with twine. He deftly untied the rope with his beak and pulled back a corner of the fabric to reveal a treasure trove of dried fish. He was about to grab as many as he could carry when he was startled by a voice behind him.
“Lost your flock, have you, Sacred One?” the birdlike man asked, having left the bald-headed men to their work.
The ibis froze on the brink of flight, his hunger battling with his fear. But the man didn’t lunge or try to kick him away. Instead, he said, “Go ahead. Take the fish.” A sad smile touched his lips. “I know it’s not easy being alone.”
Unable to believe his luck, the ibis scooped four fish into his mouth and launched into the air, his wings beating hard to accommodate the extra weight. Once he cleared the valley wall, he found a safe place to land and gobbled up the fish,quick-quick, before another animal could get a whiff of them.
He felt better almost immediately.
But in place of his hunger came sorrow. The birdlike man was right. He was alone.
What was the ibis without his brethren? They had acted as one organism, moving in a comfortable ritual that repeated over and over, day after day. He had no idea what to do or where to go now that his flock was gone.
His sorrow sharpened into despair.
Perhaps it would have been better to die with them.
Not true. Not true.If he was his flock, and his flock was him, then within himself the ibis held all that remained of his brethren. He must live on, so that they too could live. He would find a new flock—yes, yes. Then all would be right again.
