“The gods have shown me visions of this lioness. It is no accident that she has been placed on our path. As Bast sent me here to serve you, my king, so did Sekhmet send this woman to serve me. Bast and Sekhmet are but two sides of the same goddess, one is incomplete without the other.”
The king didn’t look entirely convinced. “She disrespected the crown, Nefermaat. That cannot be overlooked.”
Nefermaat approached and gestured at the guard to release his grip on Rae. Kneeling, she and the girl were almost eye to eye.
“What is your name?” Nefermaat asked.
Rae’s mind raced.I dare not speak the truth. If they are interrogating Father, he may be forced to give up my name, and then they’d know my identity. They’d know I’ve come for him.
Rae blurted out the first name that came to mind. Her mother’s name.
“Ahura.”
Nefermaat drew back, as if stung. Her eyes suffused with sudden tears, but the girl recovered quickly from whatever had unnerved her. “Why did you ask the king to wait, Ahura?” she asked.
“Because of my father,” Rae replied. “He is suffering greatly, and my only wish is to work in the palace so that I may help him.”
It was often easier to lie by telling the truth, if only part of it.
Nefermaat turned to the king. “You see? This woman’s family, like so many others in Khetara, are in dire circumstances, and she only wishes to serve the crown and to relieve her father’s pain. Is that disrespect demanding punishment? Or courage deserving reward?”
King Meryamun chuckled, gazing at the girl with obvious adoration. “You are as cunning as you are wise, little seer. Already you have learned much from me—namely, doing whatever it takes to get what you want. Very well, you may have this wild creature as your pet. But I warn you, if you cannot control her, I’ll put her down myself.”
Nefermaat bowed her head. “You are most generous, my king.”
The guard jerked Rae to her feet and shoved her toward the other chosen few. Tam was immediately by her side, the weaver’s hand invisibly slipping into hers and squeezing it tightly.
Rae breathed a sigh of relief, feeling slightly dizzy.It’s all right. You’re together. It’s going to be all right.
The king finished his selection, and soon the chosen were ushered toward the gates and the palace proper. Rae nodded to Omari and Buto on the perimeter. Omari raised a hand in salute, but even from afar Rae could see the bitterness in his expression.He wishes it were him instead of me.
Though she could understand his frustration, there was nothing to be done. Each of them had a role to play, and they didn’t always get to choose which one.
As she passed through the gates into the palace courtyard, Rae wondered about the young seer who had plucked her from the hands of fate and convinced the king to accept her.What couldhave made her to do such a thing?she wondered.Did she truly have a vision that predicted my coming?She couldn’t help but wonder what else such a vision might have shown the girl.
Rae pushed the thoughts from her mind and urged herself to focus.All that matters now is that I’m in.She was one step closer to saving her father, and she would do whatever it took to succeed.
This is war, she reminded herself.
The new servants moved aside so that the king’s palanquin could pass. The girl sat at the king’s feet like a cat and met Rae’s eyes as they went by. Rae gave her a small nod in thanks.
She returned it with an enigmatic smile.
I appreciate your help, Nefermaat, Rae thought grimly,but you might live to regret it.
8Wings
The ibis flew south, following the river, searching for a new flock. He passed thousands of birds along the way: crowned hoopoes sunbathing on the riverbank; long-legged snipe wading through the water; orange-faced vultures scowling up at him as they huddled over the dead, cleaning up what others had left behind.
He thought he saw other ibis, but it was only a mustering of storks. They glared haughtily when he approached, and once he realized his mistake, he took flight—quick-quick—before they could peck him to pieces.
It was discouraging, yet the ibis felt that he had no other option but to continue. So he’d fish at dawn, fly all day, then stop for the night. Sometimes he’d roost with herons, who were a quiet sort and didn’t mind his company, but often he slept alone.
Sometimes he was awakened by thekroo krooof a nightjar. Sometimes he’d dream. Of fish, mostly, but occasionally of being back in that terrible net. Of the racing hearts of his doomedbrethren, their warm bodies pressed against him as they were carried to their deaths. Those were the worst nights.
One morning, the ibis was fishing in the shallows when he saw a man approaching the riverbank on the other side. The ibis had flown far south, and wasn’t near any human place, so he assumed the man must be a traveler. He was a big, bald man, and he wore blackened rags that smelled like smoke. He appeared to be hurt, as the ibis noticed half a dozen open wounds on the man’s body. He saw exposed sinew and bone, but somehow no blood. The injuries didn’t seem to bother the man. He strode briskly and without a hint of pain.
The ibis watched with interest as the man walked straight into the river, not pausing once as his head disappeared under the surface of the deepening waters.
