“I would never presume that my time was more valuable than yours, Master Henenu,” the servant replied coldly. “However, Queen Tiye has given me word to bring her family into her royal presence as soon as they have been settled in their rooms. That cannot happen if the lady Nefertiti hasn’t even crossed the threshold of her chamber.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” Henenu said, his fat cheeks shining with deliberate cheer. It made the servant even crosser. “In fact, let me help. Nefertiti—I mean Lady Nefertiti, will you come this way?” Even though I was still holding Berett, he managed to take me by the elbow and steer us around the tall servant, who stood gaping at the scribe’s audacity.
When I entered my room, it was my turn to stare open-mouthed at the luxury awaiting me. I’d never seen so much furniture, not even in the house of the high priest of Isis. The bed, the tables, the chests, the lamps, the chairs—all were beautifully made, lavishly decorated. The air itself was sweet with perfume. The slave who was carrying my belongings set down the box and left. It looked forlorn and small in the midst of so many luxurious things. A second slave brought Berett’s harp and left it leaning against one of the chairs. I felt the child shift in my arms, her gaze going to her beloved instrument. I took advantage of this, setting her down and giving her a light push in the direction of the harp. She flew across the room, fell to her knees, and embraced it almost as tightly as she’d hugged me.
I sighed happily, letting my arms swing free. They felt drained and even a little numb from having toted Berett for so long. I was just starting to get full feeling back into them when a plump woman came in and began unpacking my things. I gave the tall servant an inquiring look.
“She is your chief maidservant, Lady Nefertiti,” he drawled. “She’s not attractive, but don’t worry about that; she’s only here to serve you temporarily. Much more acceptable women will wait upon you in the future.”
“This woman is very acceptable to me,” I snapped, bristling at his mean words. “And she’s a lot more attractive than you’ll ever be.”
“If you say so, Lady Nefertiti,” he replied evenly. “With your permission, I will go.” He bowed low and backed out of the room, leaving me flustered and confused.
“Why did he do that, Henenu?” I asked.
My old friend wasn’t smiling anymore. “A royal servant knows that his fortune depends on keeping the favor of the most important people at court. That man enjoys a good job with plenty of privileges that other servants can only dream of. He doesn’t want to risk losing it.”
“Oh, so he’s treating me royally because of my aunt.” That made sense.
“You could say that.” His smile returned, twice as bright but strangely unreal. “Now tell me, dear Nefertiti, why are you traveling with this little harp player?”
I sat down in one of the chairs while Henenu assumed a scribe’s comfortable, cross-legged pose on the floor, and I told my old friend all about the high priest of Isis, the Festival of the Inundation, my nearly fatal accident, the bravery of the slave girl, Mahala, and how she’d paid for her courage. I spoke in a whisper, so that Berett wouldn’t have to hear about her sister’s cruel death again.
“How could he do such a thing?” I hissed, digging my fingernails into my palms in anger. “She wasn’t just an ordinary slave; she was a skilled musician! How could he destroy someone so talented just—just out of spite?”
“Expensive spite.” Henenu stroked his chin. “Strong, young, healthy, and a musician? She was worth a lot, that poor girl. He might as well have thrown a handful of jewels into the river.”
To throw away riches … I thought. “Henenu, Father told me that the high priest’s family was poor and that he’s still afraid of falling back into poverty.” The scribe confirmed Father’s story with a nod. “Then something doesn’t fit. He might not spare Mahala’s life out of kindness, but to kill her … He’d see that as a waste of someone—something—valuable.”
“If that’s true, my dear, then she must still be alive. But if you’re right, then … where is she?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But when we return to Akhmin I’m going to find out.” My heart beat faster at the thought that I might be right, that the high priest had let Mahala live for completely selfish reasons. And what did his reasons matter as long as she was still alive? I couldn’t wait for our visit, so newly begun, to be over. I had a great thing to accomplish, and I prayed fervently that the gods would show me the right road as soon as we went home.
“You don’t have to wait, Nefertiti,” Henenu said. “I could have one of my brightest students travel to Akhmin and begin asking questions on our behalf. I have at least one whom I’d trust enough to handle such a mission well.”
“I’d rather do it myself,” I responded. “I made a promise.…”
“As long as you find out the truth, it doesn’t matter who does the actual work of investigation. If you wait too long, the trail will get cold.” He spoke quickly and urgently, as if he weren’t making a friendly suggestion but instead were trying to convince me to do this his way.
“A few more days can’t make that much difference.”
“But—but you don’t know how long you’ll be staying here.” His eyes looked away from me. “The queen has waited a long time to reestablish good relations with your father. She’ll want to keep you—all of you—with her long enough to entertain you well. She might even want you to accompany the royal court back to Thebes, so that you can enjoy the luxuries of the palace. Abydos is famous for its temples, not its lodgings. It can’t compare to Thebes.”
“I don’t think Father will want to do that,” I said, privately adding: Neither do I. I need to go home. “He’s got work to do. He can’t serve Pharaoh’s interests in Akhmin if he’s in Thebes. Even if the queen insists, Pharaoh’s word overrules her.”