“Why not?”
“It’s too soon, for one thing. For another—” His voice dropped so low that all I could hear was: “—old Mistress’s spirit mad.”
Reedy Voice giggled nervously. “Why would she care if I call Ikeni’s bride ‘Mistress’? She’s been dead for five years. Her spirit is living happily in Osiris’s kingdom.”
“That’s not what the cook’s son told me,” Deep Voice said darkly. “Or the girl who used to be her maid. Both of them saw her. The girl broke one of old Mistress’s favorite perfume bottles and the next thing she knew, her cheek was throbbing as if someone had slapped it hard! But she was the only person in the room. And the cook’s son says that once, when he was hiding to avoid doing his work, all of a sudden his shoulders began to sting and sting and sting, just as if someone were beating him with a stick! He ran away, yowling.”
“I thought you said they saw old Mistress.” Reedy Voice sounded as skeptical as I was. By now I’d crept closer to the curtain, eager to hear more about the so-called ghost.
The other boy made an impatient noise. “They both said it was her! How would they know that unless they saw her? Thoth help you, you’re stupid.”
“I’m not the one who still can’t read through the shortest scroll without making more mistakes than fleas on a donkey!” They bickered back and forth like that for a while and finally settled their quarrel by insulting Ikeni behind his back. While they chattered on, I went back to sit on the bed again but not to sleep. Those two had given me a most precious gift: an idea.
It didn’t take me long to put my plan together. Once I’d found my inspiration, working out the details was surprisingly easy. A plan like this is just another kind of storytelling, I thought. I recalled my sister’s face, so filled with fascination and delight when I entertained her with the tales I created. Somehow that memory gave me the confidence I needed to bring off the plan at hand.
I stood watch that night, holding on to my courage with both hands. Whenever I felt a twinge of doubt or hesitation, I thought of Bit-Bit. I have such a wonderful story for you, little sister! Be patient. As soon as the right moment comes, I’ll tell it to you. I didn’t dare to close my eyes until the high window showed that the night was fading. Dawn would come soon. It was time.
I stretched my arms and legs and body the way I did before a dance, happy to discover that my injured foot felt almost completely restored. I whispered a prayer to Isis for help and to Ma’at for forgiveness, then I threw myself backward onto the bed and began to thrash violently. Small, half-choked groans and whimpers poured from my lips, but I didn’t make too much noise. I didn’t want to attract the attention of every person in the house; just two.
The young priests-to-be tore the doorway curtain aside and burst into the room. Their faces looked white as sun-bleached bone in the lamplight. Before they could say a single word, I cried, “She’s here! The high priest’s wife is here! She’s holding me down!” I had my hands hooked to the sides of the bed, and I kicked my feet as if I were fighting against a great weight on my chest. “She’s trying to—” I made sounds like someone choking on a fish bone and did my best to look terrified.
The boys stood frozen in the doorway. “What did I tell you?” Deep Voice said, scared and triumphant at the same time. “It’s old Mistress’s spirit!”
“No, no, no, no, no, impossible.” Reedy Voice wasn’t ready to give up the argument. “She’s just having a—a fit or something.” He started toward me.
I sat up, transfixed with a look of blazing hatred. “How dare you!” I declared, pointing one finger at his heart. “How dare you try to touch your Mistress! In the name of Isis, if you lay one finger on me while I inhabit this miserable girl, your arm will wither, your skin will shrivel, your eyes will boil in your head, your—”
“All right, all right, I won’t touch you, I swear it!” Reedy Voice backed away quickly, holding his hands up before his face. How they trembled! I could hardly believe it: My plan was working! I began to enjoy myself.
“Disrespect!” I thundered. “Did you speak to me in such a familiar way while I lived under this roof?”
“No! I mean—No, O Mistress.” Now Reedy Voice was completely a believer. When I rose from the bed, doing my best to look majestic and imposing, he fell to his knees and bowed at my feet.
Deep Voice was still standing like a statue, but his lips worked. “O Mistress, shall I—shall I fetch your husband?”
“Never!” I raised my arms high, my hands clenched. “After what he has dared to do to my precious son Ikeni, he doesn’t deserve to hear my voice in this world again.”
“I—I don’t think we do, either,” Reedy Voice muttered.
I ignored him. “He scorns my son, calls him stupid, wants to tie him in marriage to—to this!” Now I flung my arms wide and looked down at my own body in disgust.
“Um … what’s wrong with her?” Reedy Voice asked. “She’s really pretty.”
“And we were just talking with Ikeni before your husband summoned us,” Deep Voice added. “He’s in love. He wants to marry her.”