Bit-Bit and I were overjoyed. She loved to sing even more than I loved to dance, and she had a wonderful voice—sweet, high, and clear. We rehearsed our performance constantly. Hearing Bit-Bit sing was like watching a lotus open its petals to the sun, something that became more lovely with every passing moment. She beamed when I told her how beautifully she sang, but as the day of the feast drew near, she began to panic.
“What if I’m awful?” she cried, clutching my hand as we practiced the steps of our dance in our room. We could no longer work in the house or even in the garden. It was the day before the dinner and Mery was turning the whole house upside down with the final preparations.
“Honestly, Bit-Bit, don’t you listen when I tell you how good you are?” I demanded. “As soon as you sing one note, everyone will love you, and I’ll become invisible.”
“As if that would ever happen.” My little sister’s lower lip stuck out. “When people see you, it’s everyone else that vanishes. I wish I were half as beautiful as you are, Nefertiti. Then it wouldn’t matter if I sang well or if I croaked like a frog.”
I stared at Bit-Bit as though she’d been sunstruck and was spouting nonsense. “I’m not beautiful.”
“You are.” Bit-Bit was as sweet as her name, but sometimes she showed a flash of temper. She stamped her bare foot and stubbornly repeated, “You are beautiful. Everyone says so—Mother, Father, the servants, the neighbors, all of my friends, everyone!” She took a calming breath and added: “Even me. I wish I looked like you. You’re so tall and graceful, and your eyes are such a pretty shape, like willow leaves, and your mouth always looks like you know a wonderful secret.”
“But you’re beautiful, too, Bit-Bit,” I protested. My sister’s praise made me feel self-conscious, as if everyone were looking at me all the time. I didn’t want to bask in so much attention, real or imaginary. I wanted to roll myself up in one of Henenu’s old papyrus scrolls and hide.
Bit-Bit smiled and shook her head. “Not like you.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek. “But I don’t mind. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Her smile turned mischievous. “Enough to come with me to Isis’s temple?”
“What? Why there?”
“I want to ask the goddess to bless my singing tomorrow so I don’t make a fool of myself in front of the guests.”
“Bit-Bit, if you want to pray to Isis, why don’t you just do it in the garden?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s only our Isis,” she said with a wave of her hand. “There are much better statues of the goddess in her temple, and it’s more impressive. The goddess is sure to pay attention if I ask for her blessing there. Please, Nefertiti?”
I couldn’t say no. As soon as Bit-Bit gathered some flowers for her offering to Isis, we went to the temple. It was a fine building, with towering walls of yellow limestone and many open spaces, inside and out, for worshippers to gather. We hadn’t purified ourselves properly, so we had to remain in the shadow of the great entryway, but that was good enough for Bit-Bit. While she prayed, I glanced into the temple courtyard. Because it wasn’t a festival day, we were almost the only people there. Even the priests were absent, most likely preparing to perform a ritual later on. I took advantage of being alone to study the words carved on the walls, all praising the goodness of Isis. I missed He nenu’s lessons, but I was delighted to see how much I understood without his help.
Bit-Bit was much calmer after her prayers, and when the next day’s sun began to set, she was eager for Mery to summon us into the hall where the feast was waiting. We dined with wreaths of flowers in our hair and garlands around our necks. Bit-Bit and I were so excited by the many delicacies set out on the low tables near our chairs that we couldn’t stop giggling and whispering about all the treats in store for us. Mery wore her best jewelry, a gold collar shaped like a hawk with outstretched wings, every feather starred with turquoise, carnelian, and lapis lazuli. She looked well satisfied with the way her plans for the night’s festivities were being carried out.
We three were the only ones who seemed to be enjoying ourselves that night. Father was so solemn, he might as well have been made of stone. The high priest of Isis sat stiffly, his jaw taut, his kohl-rimmed eyes like chips of flint. He was attended by two lower-ranking priests, and all three of them were splendidly dressed, their pleated robes made from linen so finely woven that it was like a breath of mist. Gold flashed from their necks, ears, and fingers. Unlike Father and Mery, they wore no wigs on their closely shaved heads. Like all priests, they took pains to remove every bit of hair from their bodies, to keep themselves pure enough to serve the gods.
The longer I looked at the grim-faced, hairless high priest of Isis, the more he reminded me of a cranky old bullfrog, puffing out his throat among the river reeds. I bit my lip to stop myself from giggling.
“Nefertiti, Mutnodjmet, it’s time,” Mery said. Because it was a formal dinner, she called Bit-Bit by her given name. I gave my sister’s hand a quick, reassuring squeeze before we left our chairs and stepped into the middle of the floor. We took our places, posing with our arms raised to one side, our heads turned the other way, and our feet pointing straight ahead. I clicked my tongue quietly three times, the signal to start. We raised our right feet and stamped out the beat on the floor. Bit-Bit began to sing, and the two of us swayed to the tune, clapping our hands and moving into the first steps of the dance. Mery clapped her hands in time for us as well, with Father and the lower-ranking priests joining in. Only the high priest remained unmoving in his chair.