Od woke in squalor. He was lying on a mound of camel dung, and the stuff was all over him. He had an awful headache. What had happened to him? He could not remember. His last memory was of a girl telling a story about her grandmother, and that hardly seemed to connect to his present situation.
He sat up, shedding clods of dung. It was dawn, somewhere, and there was a small chill in the air. He must have gotten drunk at a party, and passed out here in the night, though it was not his way to imbibe heavily. He would have to find the river and wash himself off, then go home. If he could just remember where home was.
"Ho, sleeper!" someone called. An armed man strode toward him.
Od stared blearily at the man. "Who are you?"
"I am your master, whom you will obey implicitly, lest you feel the sting of my lash, like this." The man's arm moved, and a whip struck like a viper, stinging Od's shoulder. The pain was awful. "You may call me Bub. Now go tend your camels."
Od lurched to his feet, lest the whip catch him again. There were five camels grazing nearby. Od hardly, knew anything about camels, but if they were what it required to keep the whip from his back, he would quickly learn.
A boy was already working with one of the camels. He glanced across as Od approached. "You're the new camel tender?" he asked.
"It seems I am," Od replied.
"I am Chip," the boy said. "Son of Hue and Ann, working here to help support my family while my parents are on tour."
"I am Od. I don't quite remember my family."
"They drugged you," Chip said wisely. "It will come back."
"Your parents go on tour?"
"They are entertainers," the boy said proudly. "My father plays the flute and my mother dances. She's very pretty."
Od made a connection. "Ann—a dancer," he repeated. "I have seen her. Beautiful woman! But I don't remember where."
"That's her. Folk who can't remember anything else remember Mom." He looked around. "But we had better get to work, or the whip will come."
Od had discovered that. "What am I supposed to do?"
"First get to know them," the boy said. "Camels won't obey strangers. It helps if they like you. So try to make a good impression."
"How do I do that?"
"Feed them. One dipper each." Chip pointed to a wagon loaded with grain.
Od got on it. He was getting steadier as he walked, and his head was clearing. Now he remembered a beautiful woman. But not her name or her connection to him.
When the camels had been fed, they were led to a construction site. Od and the boy were responsible for guiding the camels as they hauled loads for the workers. The camels didn't yet know Od well enough, so were surly, and the boy had to do most of it. "But they'll be better soon," Chip said cheerfully. Evidently he had been having to do the whole job himself, and was glad to have an assistant.
As the day progressed, Od's mind clarified farther. He was an actor in a religious play. They were putting on a series of shows, one each night. He was playing the god Osiris. He played opposite a beautiful woman. That was how he had encountered Chip's mother, when she had been in another play on the same stage. But how had he come here to this camel outfit?
He tried to speak of it. "I don't belong here," he told the boy. "I'm an actor."
"Ssshh, don't let the boss hear you," Chip cautioned him. "He said you were crazy. You don't want to prove it. He'll beat it out of you."
He would be whipped if he spoke of his memories? Od began to understand more. He had been abducted! That was how they recruited men (and sometimes women) for unpleasant duties. There were crews that simply grabbed anyone who was not protected, and sold them into slavery. Od must have been drugged and similarly sold. The foreman, Bub, had to know it. But he would be no help, because he stood only to lose a worker he had paid for. So Od had fallen into the trap, and the boy was right: he would do best not to speak of his other life. It would only alert his captor that he was considering escape.
So he buckled down to the work, cultivating each camel as well as he could. The brutes were surly, but not stupid; it didn't take them long to realize that Od was treating them better than others might. So their constant squeals of outrage were losing force, and they balked slightly less at the tasks he was urging.
Meanwhile he watched for some opportunity to escape. First he had to figure out exactly where he was, and he didn't dare inquire. There were numerous construction sites around the edges of the city. He had once studied a map of the city, for he was interested in maps among other things, and remembered the markings. But he couldn't place this particular site. Maybe the map had been old, and this project had started recently.
Well, in time he would figure it out. Then he would act. In knowledge there was power.
Avalanche slept late, which was just as well. She had routine temple duties, but evidently others had covered for her, and now she was feeling more positive in her despair. Surely someone would find something out, and then she would know what to do. Then, after the play, when her duties for the day were finished, she would act on her own.
She prepared herself and joined the other priestesses. This was a busy time for the temple, because of the extended festival, and because the cult of Osiris was surging in popularity, carrying in its wake the cult of Isis. They had had to train new priestesses and add new chambers. All of which was good, in both the religious and secular senses. The worship of superior gods like Osiris and Isis was certainly an improvement over some of the brutish gods of the past. And it enhanced the positions of women like Avalanche. Women were better treated in Egypt than elsewhere, but still there were only two roles for a wealthy woman, and three for a peasant woman. That was to say, a high-class woman like Avalanche could be a priestess or a wife, or both. A peasant woman could be a servant, a prostitute, or a wife—which often was the same in effect as being both servant and prostitute. The cult of Isis ministered to many women whose lives were wretched. The dominant religion in the land was now the cult of Amun. Amun had been an unimportant local deity of the city of Thebes, but when Amenemhat had assumed the throne thirty years ago, and built this now capital city, he had brought his god with him. The authority of any god varied directly with the influence of its leading worshippers. So now it was Amun-Ra, the Sun God. But Osiris was extremely popular too, and Isis.
Then the time for the play came. Pul was there, of course; she would have to fend him off, in and out of the play. Fortunately her scene with him was brief.
"The evil god Set had imprisoned the goddess Isis," Heath announced as the scene formed. There was Isis, standing within her prison, her hands on her hips, glaring defiantly at him.
"But she would have none of him," Talena said. "So all he had was Osiris' throne." Set sat on the throne, publicly brooding.
"The people had no choice," Heath continued. "They had to serve the one who occupied the throne. But they were not happy." He gestured out over the audience, and the spectators in the front rows bowed their heads, emulating unhappiness. They loved getting into the play, however obliquely.
"But in the night, Isis summoned her protectors the scorpions," Talena said. "They stung the guards to death and opened the door, so that she could escape." An actor garbed as a scorpion, with a huge curving tail, came to open the door. Isis stepped out, and hugged the man-sized creature. That, too, was popular: ugly monster, lovely woman. Avalanche thought it was because men were so much cruder than women, and peasants were so ugly, that they could identify with such monsters. If a giant scorpion could embrace a beautiful woman, maybe a peasant man could too.
"So while Set brooded on the throne," Heath said, "the goddess escaped, and resumed her search for her beloved Osiris."
"Accompanied by her seven loyal scorpions," Talena said. "Three in front, two behind, and one on each side." There was actually only one scorpion onstage with her, but it was understood that the others were there. "Everywhere she went, she asked for word of Osiris' body, but no one could help her."
"Remember," Heath reminded the audience, "Osiris' coffin was put into the Nile, where it floated away. The assassins believed that it would soon sink and be lost in the muck."
"In one village," Talena said, "Isis asked for shelter from a wealthy woman named Glory." Isis walked up to a marked door and knocked, and gestured before the woman who stood there. "But Glory feared her scorpions, so turned her away." The woman closed the door, and Isis faced away. "But a poor marsh woman saw Isis' plight and took pity on her. She invited Isis to spend the night in her poor house. The goddess accepted." Isis walked to another marked house, where the ragged woman gestured invitingly. Isis entered and joined the woman inside. They shared an invisible meal, and then both lay down.
"In the night," Heath said, "one of her scorpions, named Tefen, crawled away, and under the door of the rich woman's house." The big scorpion walked back to the prior house, got down to hands and feet, and crawled in. "Tefen stung the woman's son, killing him." The scorpion grabbed his tail in his hand and plunged the barbed tip into a boy sleeping there. The audience shuddered; folk well understood the deadliness of scorpions. "Then he set fire to the house." The scorpion produced a torch from somewhere and touched it to some tinder in the house. In a moment there was a blaze onstage. The scorpion scrambled away.
The woman, Glory, had been sleeping. She quickly got up, spied the flames, and tried to beat them out. Then she saw the body of her son. She let out a shriek and gestured wildly, ignoring the continuing blaze. This was a natural reaction. Too many women had suffered similar grief.
"Then Glory's wailing reached Isis," Talena said. Isis sat up, cupping her ear as if straining to hear. Glory shrieked again. Isis nodded, hearing it. "The goddess took pity on the rich woman's suffering. She sent a flood of rain to extinguish the fire." Isis gestured to the heavens, and a man garbed as a black cloud ran across the stage and dumped a bucket of water on the flame.
"She then restored the dead child to life," Heath said, "banishing the poison with a spell." Isis left the marsh woman's house, walked across the stage to the rich woman's house, entered, and made a magical gesture. Suddenly the boy sat up, stretching. Then he put his hands to his head. Evidently the experience had left him with a headache. Little did he know! "Glory was filled with gratitude for the rescue," Talena said. The rich woman hugged the boy. "And shame for her earlier behavior." Glory made gestures of abject humiliation, even dumping some of the water-sodden ashes on her own head. "She brought all of her wealth and ornaments, her bracelets and necklaces, her gold work and silver work, and laid them at the feet of the marsh woman in repentance." The rich woman carried her armload to the poor woman's house and dumped it inside.
"So it went," Heath said. "But no one knew where the coffin had gone." Isis resumed her walk around the stage, looking hopeless.
"Finally Isis asked the children near the Nile if they had seen the coffin of Osiris," Talena said. Isis came to a place on the stage marked as a river, where two small children played. The children gestured, pointing a direction. "They told her that the body had traveled down the river to the Great Green Sea."
"And so it had," Heath agreed. "All through the night the coffin had floated down the river, refusing to sink, and in the morning it had reached the Great Green Sea and was driven hither and thither, tossed by the large waves. But by this time, several days later, it was no longer floating there. It had reached the shores of Syria, near the city of Byblos."
Now stagehands pushed the coffin across the stage to a spot representing the city of Byblos. "Where it touched the land," Talena said, "a great tamarisk tree sprang forward immediately, and the coffin became hidden in its great trunk." The stagehands placed leafed branches over the coffin.
"The king of Byblos, named Malkander, marveled at the growth of the giant tree," Heath said. A man garbed in the crown and robes of a foreign king marched onto the stage, gazed at the branch-covered coffin, and gestured his amazement. "He had it cut down." The king summoned another, and a man came with an axe and chopped at the branches. "The trunk was then erected in his palace as a scared pillar." The workman carried a branch to another part of the stage and stood it up.
"Meanwhile Isis, not spying the coffin floating on the Great Green Sea, appealed to the Sun God for help," Talena said. Isis put her hand to her brow, peering out across the sea, then shook her head. She lifted her arms high toward the sun.
"The Sun God revealed to her that the waters had carried the body to Byblos," Heath said. A man garbed as the Sun came onstage and pointed to the other set.
"Isis thanked him," Talena said. The goddess made a deep bow. The Sun God took a good look at her bosom and nodded. It was apparent that even a god had to admire that form.
"Then she traveled by ship to that Syrian city," Heath said. Isis got into a boat-shaped box, and was pushed across the stage by two men dressed as Wind and Wave. In due course it came to the Byblos setting, and the goddess disembarked. She waved farewell to the departing ship, and both Wind and Wave waved back.
"Isis went ashore clothed in common raiment. But now she did not know what to do," Talena said. "For Byblos was a big foreign city where Isis knew no one. She did not know in which house the coffin might be, or of whom to inquire. The magnitude of her task overcame her. So she sat beside a well, weeping bitterly." Isis sat on the floor, and put her face in her hands, weeping. At that moment she seemed far more like a woman than a goddess.
"The women of the city came near," Heath said. A woman in foreign garb approached the seated goddess. "They spoke with her with pity, but she would neither answer nor stop grieving." The woman shook her head sadly and went away. "Finally the handmaids of the queen came to her." A richly garbed girl approached. "Isis accepted their gentle words. She stopped crying, adjusted their jewels, and breathed a sweet perfume into each lock of their hair." Isis did that, leaning forward to exhale on the girl's tresses.
"When the maids returned to the palace," Talena said, "Queen Athenais smelled the perfume, and was struck by its beauty." The girl crossed the stage to approach a richly garbed woman wearing a crown. The queen sniffed the girl's hair and made a gesture of delight. "When her handmaids told her of the sad, strange woman by the well, and the lovely perfume that came from her breath, the queen went immediately to the shore." Athenais marched across to Isis, followed by the girl.
"The two women spoke together as women will," Heath said. "They exchanged sorrows. Isis told the queen how she was searching for her lost love, and Athenais told the goddess of her grief for her son, who was sick unto death." The two women gestured at each other, exchanging confidences. Then they hugged each other.
"Hearing of the prince's plight," Talena said, "Isis asked to be taken to the child." The two women walked to the place on the stage designated as the palace of Byblos. "Now the prince of Byblos was a beauteous child, and Isis loved him from the instant she saw him. He was like the child she wished she could have had. She took the child in her arms, and he revived somewhat, hearkening to the ambiance of the goddess." Isis embraced the child, and the child stirred, hugging her back.
"The queen of Byblos was impressed," Heath said. "She saw the good effect the strange woman had on her son. 'What power is it that you have, to make him respond so?' she asked. Isis demurred. 'Just one who knows some healing magic. I can make him strong and well, but I will do it in my own way, and no one must interfere.' 'Then do it!' the queen cried. 'No one will interfere!' "
"And so the prince was given into the goddess's hands for healing," Heath said. "This ends our presentation for today, but we will resume tomorrow." He and Talena bowed to the audience.
Avalanche hurried to the changing enclosure. Pul was there, of course. "Get out of my way," she said irritably. "Unless you're going to tell me exactly where Od is."
"But I don't know where he is," he protested.
She flung off her dress, heedless of his eyes. "Then you are of no use to me." She got into her street clothes and brushed on out. If he had thought to win her by this cruel ploy, he had been even more stupid than usual.
She returned to the temple of Isis, hoping that a lead had been found during her absence. "There is one!" Lin exclaimed. "A wealthy man named Tuho says he has information."
Avalanche suffered a thrill of hope. "Where is he?"
"His servant is waiting in the antechamber."
"I'll go immediately."
"But not alone," Lin protested.
Avalanche nodded. "I'll take Tefen." He was one of the temple guards, nicknamed after the scorpion who guarded the goddess Isis. It was no insult; the guards took their work seriously, and scrupulously protected the priestesses and property of the temple.
She put a light cloak over her dress and set out with Tefen, following the servant. They walked the streets thronged with the folk of the festival. The pastry hawkers were out in force, and the free-lance entertainers doing their little acts for pieces of copper, and the prostitutes. Tefen brushed past them, and Avalanche followed in his wake.
They came to the house. It was a mansion built of mud brick, with a small porter's house guarding the entrance. The windows were small and high, preventing access from the street. They passed through the entrance to the central courtyard, which supported a rich interior garden. This was the source of light and freshness for the house.
The owner stepped forward to meet her. He wore a white knee-length skirt with a pleated front, and a red ribbon. "Thank you for coming, priestess!" he said heartily. "I am Tuho."
"What is your news?" For he might simply be a man who wanted access to her body, pretending to have information.
"I dare not be too specific," he said.
Avalanche started to turn away. "I need to find my friend. Vague news is not enough."
"But I do have information," he said quickly. "I have a friend who works at the king's palace. He overheard some sort of plot against the king. His life—and mine—would be in peril if this were spoken openly. Until he learns more—the identity of the key plotters—he must be silent. But one detail was that one of the plotters abducted an actor yesterday."
Avalanche had been listening somewhat cynically. Palace plots were as common as copper pieces, and few ever amounted to anything, because the king's spies were everywhere. Most were simply talk, as dissatisfied servants vented their frustrations by saying what they wished were true, sowing routine dissent. But if there were a connection of Od's abduction, then she was interested. "Where did they take him?"
"My friend didn't hear. Just that they did it for gold. It seems that someone had a grudge against this man, so paid to have him removed but not killed. The plotters need gold."
So this was mostly conjecture based on part of an overheard conversation. No solid information. The man could have made the whole thing up, just to get her here. "Not enough," she decided. "I must know where."
"I will try to get that information," Tuho said. "My friend may hear more."
"And your friend may not exist," she said. "You are wasting my time." She stepped toward the exit.
"No, it is true!" he protested. "I thought it best not to wait for full information, which may take days."
"You thought I would give you my favor for this mishmash of speculation?"
"I don't want your body."
She paused. This was an unusual ploy. "Then what did you hope to gain by this device?"
"My daughter," he said hurriedly. "She is ill, and the doctor said only a priestess of Isis can help her. But she is too sick to go to the temple, and no priestess would come here. I had hoped—"
"You had hoped to trick me here to see to your child?"
He hung his head. "It was the only way."
"Be thankful I don't have my man burn down your house!" she snapped, and resumed her motion. But then she remembered the play, wherein the rich woman turned away the goddess. In fact that was what had put the notion of burning in her mind. But she was cast in the wrong role, here. So she stopped again. "Show me your sick child." And if that, too, was false, she would put a curse on the girl, making her truly sick.
"This way," Tuho said eagerly. He showed them into a small chamber of the house.
A girl was there, perhaps only five years old. There was no doubt she was seriously ill. She lay on a feather mattress, breathing in gasps. Her hair was matted with sweat, and her eyes were sunken.
All Avalanche's ire melted away. She had so long wished for a child of her own, and been jealous of the children of other women. This girl truly needed help. She had seen similar symptoms before. There was a potion that sometimes helped. "Tefen—fetch the potion, from the temple," she said.
"But Lady, I must not leave you here unprotected," he protested.
"I think I am safe enough here. I must minister to this girl. Go, and return swiftly." Then, another thought: "And bring Heath, if you can." For Heath was more than a historian; he studied the lore of medicines, and knew much about healing.
Tefen turned and left. Avalanche sat beside the child and stroked her forehead. It was burning hot.
The child stirred. "Who?" she asked plaintively.
"The priestess of Isis," her father said. "As I promised."
The eyes opened. Avalanche leaned into the girl's field of vision and smiled, holding up the icon of the goddess. Then she adjusted herself and lifted the small head to her lap. "I will bless you," she murmured.
The girl made a wan smile, and dropped into sleep.
The man shook his head. "So readily, with you," he said. "I could not get her to sleep. She just lay there and suffered."
"The goddess helps whom she chooses," Avalanche said. And that was true. But there was also an effect that a lovely face had, on children as well as on adults. That was why she had smiled at the child. Maybe it was no more than a surface balm, but if it enabled the girl to sleep, it was enough. "What of her mother?"
"The plague."
That could mean anything. Illnesses wracked the city from time to time, but there were also incidental poisonings and infections. But it did mean that the child was motherless. A nurse or servant would be taking care of her, but that was a poor substitute.
Avalanche held the child, humming faintly, stroking her hair with one hand. Half of what this girl needed was a mother. And half of what Avalanche needed was a child. If only—but of course it was a foolish notion. She wasn't looking for an incidental man as a husband, she was looking for Od.
Still, this man had generated this child. Perhaps the gods would bless him again. "Tuho," she murmured.
"I am here, priestess."
"Secure the chamber."
"My house is secure."
She drew on the front of her cloak, baring her breasts. She knew he desired her; every man did. Now she was letting him know that his desire could be realized.
"But I did not ask for—"
She just looked at him.
Tuho stepped out of the chamber. "Do not disturb this room until I give the order," he called to someone. Then he returned.
Avalanche set the sleeping child's head back on the pillow. She stood up, removed cloak and skirt, and stretched. "There should be time before Tefen returns." Then she approached Tuho, putting her hands to his skirt.
"I don't understand," he said, letting her disrobe him, revealing the literal nature of his desire. "You were angry with me."
"Until I saw your daughter. I have no child of my own. Perhaps you will give me one."
"You wish to marry me?" he asked incredulously.
"No. We may not see each other again, after these few days." She stepped into his body, pressing her breasts against his chest.
"Then why?"
"You have partial information. I am paying you for full information. After this, you must deliver it."
"I can't promise that! My friend may not overhear any more."
"I am speaking in terms of fate. I am facilitating your friend's success."
He shook his head. "I am not sure that fate can be coerced, even by a lovely priestess. I do not wish to make a false representation."
She liked his integrity. He wanted her almost unbearably, at this stage, yet he was trying to be fair. "We shall nevertheless make the effort." She put one hand up behind his head and pushed it down for a kiss.
"There is nowhere to lie down," he said after a breathless moment.
"Sit against the wall. I will accommodate."
He sat, and she spread her thighs and straddled his crotch. She could fit any man inside her, in any position, with the seeming ease born of long experience. When he was deep, she squeezed internally. That was another device not all women knew. He was instantly potent, as any man was with her. She leaned forward to kiss him again, then lifted off him.
He stared up at her. "You are amazing, priestess. In an hour I will think this was a dream."
"I am good at dreams." She quickly donned her dress and cloak again and lay down with the child. This both concealed the nature of her recent activity, and held the man's essence within her so that it would have a better chance to make her baby, if it was going to.
Tuho got up and dressed. Then he stepped out of the chamber. She knew this was so that no one would believe there had been time for anything seriously sexual, as indeed would ordinarily have been the case.
"Was it good?" the child inquired. So, womanlike, she had feigned sleep when it suited her.
"Very good," Avalanche agreed. "When you grow to be a woman, you will be able to do it too."
"My father has not smiled since Mother died."
"Tomorrow, when he thinks it was a dream, tell him it was not. Then he will smile."
The girl almost laughed, but was too weak. Avalanche squeezed her shoulder, and she fell back to sleep.
In due course Tefen arrived, with Heath. Heath examined the girl and nodded. "This should help." He gave her a few drops of the potion.
On the way back to the temple, Heath asked "Him, too?"
"Maybe my baby stems from his loin."
"Is there any man you haven't tried with?"
"Aside from you? No. You are interested?"
He laughed. "Let me be, goddess."
Of course he was interested, but he was loyal to his wife. So she did let him be, satisfied with incidental teasing. Perhaps the day would come, but not while he remained with Talena.
Now if only she could be with Od! This lead had proved inadequate, but perhaps it would yield later result. In any event, she had enjoyed helping the child, and trying once more for a baby of her own. How like the play it had been, in general if not in detail. It made her feel closer to the goddess.
It had been a hard day, but Od and the camels had made it through, thanks to the advice and help of Chip. Apparently the boy was here voluntarily, because he liked animals and wanted to help his family. But many other workers were conscripts. Camel duty was the messiest but least physically demanding chore. It seemed that recruits were tried first on this, and if they had any touch at all with the animals, remained. Otherwise they were moved on to stone hauling. Od decided to do his very best with the camels, because the stone work could kill him.
He had finally figured out where they were: at the site where there was preliminary work for a future public building. There was endless preparatory scraping and leveling to do, and measuring of foundation points. Od was interested in this, as he was in everything, so he paid close attention. He hadn't realized that it was necessary for the base of a building to be absolutely level, but now that he thought about it, he understood the truth of it. An unlevel foundation would mean an unlevel structure, and that building would be under strain and perhaps fall.
He had also kept his eyes out for an escape route, but that seemed impossible. The site was away from the main city, so that a man couldn't just walk away; he would be observed long before he got anywhere. At night they loosed the dogs, who ranged the perimeter of the site and alerted their masters to any activity there. He was getting to know the camels, but not the dogs; they were vicious brutes who were bred to be hostile to strangers. Escape by foot was not feasible.
So after the evening meal, and the falling of night, he tried a different ploy. He sneaked up on Foreman Bub's tent. Probably all he would spy would be the man bedding one of the serving girls. But their dialogue might have some useful information. So it was a gamble worth taking. Because Od could not be sure of his fate, if he remained as a camel tender; when this aspect of the construction was done, he might be killed. He still didn't know why he had been drugged and abducted. Certainly the work crews needed workers, and abduction was one of the recruiting methods, but normally the victims were those who were largely unknown. The actor who played Osiris would surely be missed, especially during festival time when the play was being performed. So it seemed likely that there was more to it than mere need for labor. But his mind had not yet completely cleared, so he couldn't be sure of his logic.
He came silently to the partly completed wall against which the foreman's hut was pitched. The wall shielded it from the wind and sand, making it a better location than what was available for the workers and camels. Rank always had its privileges. But this was an advantage for Od, because the wall would conceal him perfectly while allowing him to get quite close.
He found the wall and moved along it, slowly and silently. The dogs should not be ranging here, because it was near the center of the construction site. No one would look for a hiding prisoner here, either; it was the wrong direction. There could be great privacy in doing the unexpected.
He heard the talking before he reached the closest part of the wall. The stone itself was transmitting it. Od crawled low, then lay down with his ear to the wall, listening. It was almost as if he were part of the wall, now, hearing with its ear. The sounds were not loud, but Od was completely silent, so had no trouble picking it up.
"Day after tomorrow?" Bub was asking. "That soon? Are we ready?"
"The question is not whether we are ready, but whether the king is unready," another voice said.
What was this? Bub didn't have a woman in his hut, but a man! And it did not seem to be love they were discussing. What was this about the king being unready? Did they mean King Amenemhat, lord of Upper and Lower Kingdoms? He was hardly a man to be called "unready."
"But even so, what of his son, the co-regent?" Bub asked. "What good to take out the one without the other?"
"That is the point," the stranger said. "Sesostris is even now marching home after a victorious campaign in Nubia. In six days he will be here with his troops. Then it will be impossible to score."
"But to do it now, when Sesostris is so close—will he not simply march in and slay us all?"
"Not if he doesn't know. The key is to do it now, quietly, then let Sesostris disband his troops and enter the city unawares. He can be executed before he suspects. Then the troops will have no rallying point, and will have to serve the new master."
There was a pause, as of someone thinking it through. "Perhaps so, though the timing is closer than I like. What do you want of me?"
"This construction site is south of the city. Sesostris will cross it as he enters. This is where it must be done, before he can discover that the city is in our hands."
"You want me to assassinate the co-regent? I couldn't even get close to him!"
"But one of our serving girls could. You must dress like one of them, and go with their group. When you are close to the regent, spring forth and stab him to death."
"Whereupon his guards will hack me apart! I have little taste for that."
"What better way do you have?"
"An ambush with bows. We could riddle him from behind the wall before he knows anyone is there. Meanwhile the regular workers will be working as usual. His guards will assume they are responsible, and slaughter them. While our bowmen sneak away."
"That sounds efficient. Do it."
Od was stunned. The conspirators planned to assassinate King Amenemhat in two days, and his son Sesostris in six days. This had to be stopped! But what could he do? He couldn't even escape this work site. And if he did, how could he approach the palace? The conspirators would surely kill anyone they suspected of trying to warn the king. Especially since they would know that he had escaped the work site, and they would be watching for him.
Unless he surprised them by doing the unexpected. By stealing a camel and fleeing away from the city, into the desert.
He waited for the stranger to depart, then quietly made his way back to the hut he shared with Chip. Could he trust the boy? He had to, because he needed the lad's help. As far as he knew, Chip was not part of any conspiracy; he was just another conscript stolen or bought from his family. Chip said it was voluntary, but that might just be his way of coping with an uglier reality.
The lad was alert when Od returned. "I hoped you weren't trying to escape," he said. "I didn't want the dogs to get you."
"I wasn't trying to escape," Od agreed. "I was spying on Bub."
"Why? He's just a brute overseer."
Od hesitated, then plunged ahead. "Are you loyal to King Amenemhat?"
"Sure. Why?"
"Bub is not. He is part of a conspiracy to kill the king."
"So that's it! I knew he was a bad one. He promised my father I would not be whipped, but he lied."
"I must warn the king. Will you help me take a camel?"
"Take Lotus. She likes to travel." The boy didn't even question his news about the plot. That helped a lot.
They went to the hobbled camels. Chip got Lotus to get down so Od could mount, then freed her. "Just don't get off her," he warned. "Unless you have someone who knows how to make her mind. She'll walk for you, but she won't let you back on once you're off. There's water and bread in her harness. If you have to pee, just do it from her back; she's used to that. Keep quiet when you pass the dogs and they won't realize it isn't all right. It's folk on foot they watch for."
That was what Od had counted on. "Thanks, Chip," Od said as he took the reins. "If I succeed, I'm sure there will be a reward for you."
"Just don't mention my name if you don't succeed," the boy said, unsmiling.
"Understood." For there would be death for any who tried unsuccessfully to balk the plotters. Chip was acting with trust and courage, helping him like this. "And you had better alert Bub first thing in the morning about how I stole a camel and escaped."
"First thing in the morning. Just as soon as I notice." Chap smiled. "He'll be furious."
"I hope he doesn't beat you."
"I'll yell it to him, then check to make sure nothing else is missing. He'll be too distracted to think of the whip right away."
"You have made this possible. I will remember."
"May the sun go with you, Od." The boy slapped the camel's flank, and Lotus started moving. Her gait was sure. Od had not ridden a camel in years, but could tell that this one did indeed like to travel. She would carry him as far as needed, though it was bound to be a hard journey.
There was a stirring as they crossed out of the construction site. The dogs were investigating. Lotus squealed irritably at them, and they moved away. They knew her, and if there was someone riding her, how could they know it wasn't legitimate? Their prey was any man afoot at night, just as the boy had said. Nothing else.
He turned the camel's nose south. Bub would naturally expect him to flee north, toward the city, where he could return to his own people. With luck, Bub would not realize that Od had spied on him and overheard his treachery. Even if Bub suspected that, he would assume that Od was hurrying to warn King Amenemhat of the assassination. But Od knew that he would not be able to reach the king; the traitors would kill him before he got close. And if somehow he did get the king's ear, why would the king believe him? No, he had to invoke the element of surprise, and go in the opposite direction expected. South, to warn the king's son and co-regent, Sesostris. Hoping that the son was more likely to listen than the father was. If he could do it within one day, then Sesostris would know what to do to foil the plot against his father. If his journey took longer than a day—well, maybe the regent had trained birds to send with warning messages. Or possibly some magical means of communication. Or something. It was all pretty desperate, but there was no alternative except surrender.
Right now, all Od should focus on was traveling south as swiftly as the camel could carry him. Until he intercepted the army of the regent, and delivered his message. The welfare of the kingdom of Egypt depended on it.
"Queen Athenais of Byblos delivered her ill-unto-death son into the hands of the goddess Isis for treatment," Talena said to the audience, "promising that no one would interfere. For this was the requirement Isis made, knowing that others would not understand her methodology. They did not know that she was a goddess, with special powers; they thought she was limited to mortal means."
Isis walked to the center of the stage, leading a boy by the hand. He looked ill; his head hung and he dragged his feet.
"As soon as the child was given to Isis' care," Heath said, "he began to grow strong and healthy. For the goddess was suckling him from her own finger."
Isis embraced the boy, and kissed him on the mouth. He began to straighten up, for even the youngest of males had to respond to such treatment. Then she lay on a pallet and had him lie beside her, his head cushioned against her left breast. He smiled, and the audience smiled with him; every man and some women wished they could play that part. She reached across her body and put her right forefinger into his mouth. He pursed his lips around it and sucked. After a moment she withdrew the finger. He sat up and stretched, seeming healthier. But she guided him down again, shifted to his left side, braced his head against her right breast, and put her left forefinger into his mouth. The meaning was clear: she was changing breasts.
Soon she finished nursing him, and the boy got up and ran across the stage, to where Queen Athenais was working at her loom. He hugged her, then went dashing off to play with a ball. "The queen marveled at her son's quick recovery," Talena said. "But she could not contain her female curiosity. So she questioned her handmaids, to see if they knew anything about the visiting lady's method."
The queen beckoned to a serving girl. The girl gesticulated, evidently speaking animatedly. " 'We know not what she does,' " Heath said for the girl. " 'But we see that she feeds him nothing at all. At night she bars the doors of the Hall of the Pillar and piles the fire high with logs. When we listen at the door we can hear nothing but the titter of a swallow.' "
As he spoke, Isis enacted the scene in her section of the stage, barring an invisible door and piling invisible logs on a candle that stood in lieu of a fire. When the play called for a burning house, they made a larger fire on the stage, but this was merely a fireplace fire, so a candle sufficed.
"Filled with worry," Talena said, "the queen watched for when Isis was out, and hid herself in the Hall of the Pillar." Isis took a walk around the stage, indicating that she was exploring the palace and its associated gardens. The queen sidled into the chamber and stood behind a small curtain. It did not conceal her at all, but the audience understood that she was well hidden.
"That night," Heath said, "Athenais watched Isis bar the door and pile the fire high with logs." Isis went through the motions again. "When the fire was high, Isis cleared a space in the very center of it. Then she picked up the young prince, who was asleep, and laid him among the flames." Isis did this, putting the boy down beside the candle. He continued sleeping, exactly as if he were not in an inferno.
"Then Isis changed herself into a bird and flew around the pillar," Talena said, "singing a song of lamentation." Isis spread her arms and moved them as if they were wings, circling the pillar.
"The queen shrieked and ran from her place of concealment," Heath said. Athenais ran out, stretching her arms up and opening her mouth. "The queen grabbed her child from the fire, and spun about to face the strange nurse." The queen did this, holding the boy, who was still sleeping.
"But the bird had changed back, and it was the goddess Isis who now stood before her, revealed in all her glory," Talena said as Isis stopped flying and stood straight with her hands on her hips, glaring at the queen. "Foolish mother! Why did you seize the child? In but a few more days all that is mortal would have been burned out of him, and he would have been as the gods are, immortal and forever young."
"The queen was awestruck, for now she knew she looked upon a god," Talena continued. "She set down her son, fell to her knees, and humbled herself before Isis." The queen did these things, becoming most penitent.
"Word was sent to King Malkander," Heath said. "He came to join his wife." The king of Byblos hurried across the stage, and got down beside the queen. "Together they prayed for the goddess to accept a gift. All the wealth of the great city of Byblos was laid at her feet." A servant brought in jars and bags and set them before Isis' toes.
"But the goddess ignored both gold and silver, linen and perfume, and all other riches," Talena said. "Nevertheless, she relented. 'Give me what is in this pillar and I shall be content.' " Isis gestured to the pillar.
"Immediately the workmen were summoned," Heath said. A workman came onstage, bearing his tools. "They took down the pillar and split it open. Inside, the coffin of Osiris was revealed to all." Stagehands carried the coffin to the group and set it down. The sleeping prince woke and watched the proceedings with interest.
"Isis sang a terrible song of lamentation," Talena said. The prince, listening, fell over on his side. The queen quickly covered his ears, and he revived; it was evident that it was the sound of lamentation that affected him, not a relapse of illness. "She spread sweet spices and scented blossoms around the coffin and pillar. She had recovered Osiris' body at last, but she knew she could not revive him. What may work for a mortal does not work for a god. So she did not even open the coffin."
"It was time for the goddess to go home," Heath said. Isis addressed king, queen, and boy, bidding each farewell. The boy clung to her, not wanting her to go. It was clear that he was now healthy, and would live out a normal life. But he had lost the opportunity to become immortal. "She left the pillar in Byblos, where it would forever after be worshipped as having once held the body of a god. She took the coffin back with her to Egypt."
Isis made the long journey by ship, crossing the stage. "When she reached the Black Land," Talena said, "Isis hid the coffin in a solitary place. She opened it only long enough to look on the face of her husband." Isis lifted the lid and peered in. Ordinarily at this point Osiris would have been revealed inside the coffin, but he was missing, so she had to pretend. "Then she left to make arrangements for the funeral."
There was another intermission. Avalanche departed the stage, dispirited. In two more days the play would be done, and there would have to be a substitute for Od in the part of Osiris. None of her leads had been effective in locating him.
But there was always a chance. She returned to the temple—and there was Lin rushing to greet her. "Tuho got it!" the girl cried. "He knows where Od is!"
Hope flared. "I will go see him immediately."
"No need. He's here, with his daughter. I've been playing with her."
So her healing in life had been as effective as it was in the play. That was gratifying. She followed Lin to a meeting chamber where man and child waited.
Tuho greeted her immediately. "You paid me, priestess, and saved my daughter. I had to deliver. My friend learned that your friend is at the construction site south of the city, tending camels."
She grabbed him and kissed him. "I will go there immediately."
He shook his head. "Fetch your guard. In fact, send your guard instead. I have not learned the details of their conspiracy, but if they truly mean to assassinate the king, they will not hesitate to kill a priestess."
Good point. "You don't know who is involved?"
"No. Or the timing. Just that they are planning. So there's nothing to be reported to the king."
"Except the fact of the conspiracy. If the king is warned, he can take precautions."
"Not without knowing the identity of the plotters. In fact, anyone at the palace I might report to could be an assassin, who would promptly kill me to prevent me from telling the king. We need to know the identities before we can report. Otherwise we merely alert them."
Another good point. "So we must be silent, until more is known. But I can still go to rescue my friend, without saying anything about a conspiracy, because he's just the victim of an abduction and enslavement."
He nodded. "Yes. I wish you success." He looked around. "Now my daughter and I will give thanks and gifts to the Temple of Isis for her salvation."
How like her scene in the play, she thought. The saved child, the grateful parent. And the delivery of what she most craved: the information about her beloved. She was, in a manner, living the role of Isis. Maybe the goddess chose to animate her with some of Isis' grief and power.
She got Tefen and set out for the construction site. "I have learned where Od was taken," she explained to the man. "He is tending camels. But there may be danger, so be prepared."
The man nodded and touched his sword. He would not act unless the need arose, but then the chief danger would be to whoever threatened her. The Temple of Isis hired few males, but those were good ones.
They reached the site. Work was proceeding on the foundation for a new public building. She saw camels, but not Od.
So she marched up to the foreman. "I have news that my friend was abducted and brought here," she said boldly. "Where is he?"
The man turned an insultingly direct gaze on her. "Who wants to know?"
"A priestess of Isis. Are you looking for a curse?"
He glanced past her at Tefen, perhaps appreciating how literally a curse could be applied. "Who is your friend?"
"A man named Od."
The man spat into the dust. "He stole a camel night before last and left."
Could she believe that? "Where did he go?"
"If I knew that, I'd have brought him back before now and hacked him to pieces. That's a good camel! There's no news of him. For all I know he rode straight into the desert."
So it was still like the play, for there was a scene about Osiris being hacked apart. "Let me talk with your camel tender."
"It's a stupid boy. He doesn't know anything."
"Except whether you're telling the truth."
The man put his hand on his whip, scowling. But Tefen put his hand on his sword, and the man reconsidered. "That way," he said, pointing.
They walked across the site to intercept the boy. "Was there a man named Od here?" Avalanche asked him, after seeing that he recognized her Isis icon.
"He was," the lad agreed. "But he was gone yesterday morning."
"So the foreman is telling the truth?"
"Some of it."
"What is the rest of it?"
"I can't tell you, priestess."
Tefen put his hand on his sword again, but Avalanche stayed him. Instead she leaned down, took the boy's head in her hands, and kissed him firmly on the mouth. She hoped he was old enough to feel the impact of her beauty.
"He rode to warn the regent of the plot against the king," the boy said, his eyes staring fixedly ahead, pupils dilated.
It had to be the truth, for the boy was too stunned to dissemble. "What plot is this?"
"They mean to kill the king tonight. The foreman is in on it. Od found out and said he had to do the surprising thing, so the assassins wouldn't catch him. That's all I know."
That was Od, all right. "Thank you." She stroked her hand over the boy's face, interrupting his blank stare, and he recovered somewhat. He had proved to be old enough. She turned away, with mixed emotions. She had hoped to rescue Od, but he had already rescued himself, and was surely well beyond reach by now. But at least he was doing something about the plot.
"Priestess!" the boy cried. "Please don't tell I told! He'll beat me to death."
He meant the foreman, for revealing the plot. "Not a word," she agreed.
They walked back toward the city. "You amaze me," Tefen remarked.
"The goddess aids me," she said smugly.
"That she does." Tefen was an old, tough hand, but her manner of interrogating the boy had evidently impressed him.
Unfortunately Isis hadn't aided her enough to recover Od. Not only would they have to finish the play without him, she still couldn't give him the rapture she longed to. But if he made it safely to the regent, and returned to the city, ah, then she would have a reckoning he would never forget.
But meanwhile, what about this assassination plot against the king? There had seemed to be no point in trying to warn the king when the details were nebulous, but now she knew it was tonight. She had to act, if she was going to.
But how was she to get past the assassins? They would be alert for anyone on an urgent mission to the king. Was there any way she could gain a private audience with the king, without arousing suspicion? It seemed impossible.
Unless she used her position as a priestess of Isis. If she went to the palace to plead for more support for the temple, garbed in a manner that suggested her plea would take a most intimate form—who would suspect that? They might even think the plea was a cover for some of the king's incidental entertainment. She would do her best to give them exactly that impression.
Yes, that would do. So she returned to the temple and girded her loins most appealingly. She perfumed her hair and breasts. She would pretend that she had an appointment, and show enough flesh to make officials disinclined to doubt her. If she got close enough to have any word with the king, she could whisper her warning, and that might be enough.
It was night by the time she could get quietly away. Tefen took her to the palace, understanding her mission. She knew she would have to get through a series of functionaries, but she was experienced at negotiating such obstacles. Just as long as they thought she sought a liaison with the king, rather than delivery of a key message.
But when she arrived at the palace, there were no challenges. People were running around, shouting. There was chaos.
"What's happening?" she asked the nearest guard who wasn't running.
"The king has been killed," he said. "He was assassinated moments ago."
Avalanche's heart sank. She was too late. All she could do was get away from the palace before any indiscriminate vengeance killing started.