May the One bless you always.
“This isn’t just your god of healing, is it?” I said, cradling the child’s cheek in my palm. “This is your only god.” My words worked magic. Nava’s frown vanished. Radiant with joy, she dropped her tablet and flung her arms around me. When she looked up at me, her lips moved as if she were trying to speak, but all that emerged were the same rough, uncertain sounds I’d overheard when I’d left her alone with Thutmose’s cat.
And then, so very hard to hear that it sounded like the voice of a ghost, Nava whispered: “Yes.”
Did I hear that? Did she really speak or do I want her to speak so badly that I’m hearing things that aren’t there? I couldn’t let it go; I had to know. “Yes, Nava, yes!” I cried. “Please, don’t be afraid, talk to me!”
Oh, what a fool! I wanted to encourage her; I only scared her back into silence. Her small hand flew to seal her lips and her eyes widened in horror, as if she’d caught herself committing a crime. She whirled about, stooped to grab her tablet, and flew out of the stables. I let out a moan of disappointment.
Amenophis patted my shoulder. “I heard it, too,” he said.
“You did?” How could something so small have the power to make me so happy?
“Yes. She will speak again, Nefertiti. You—we have to believe it. But she’ll only do it when she’s ready, not when you or I want her to do it.”
“If only I hadn’t talked to her just then …” I shook my head over my own rashness. “How stupid.”
“Stupid? You? Never. You’re impetuous,” he said.
“It’s been over a year since she lost her voice. Sometimes I lose hope that she’ll ever recover it.”
“And I—I wonder if Father will ever be well again.”
I smiled at him. “You and I will just have to learn to wait for what we want most, Amenophis.”
“And pray.” He gazed after Nava and grew thoughtful.
We didn’t spend much longer together. We didn’t dare risk discovery. Before we parted, we agreed that it would be wisest never to meet in the same place twice in a row.
“I know the palace better than you,” he said. “I’ll send word when I’ve found a spot that’s out of my brother’s sight and not too overrun with other people.”
“Or it could be overrun,” I suggested. “No one can blame us for speaking if we happen to meet in the middle of a crowd.”
“Ha! That’s good. See, I told you you’re smart!” Those few kind words of his pleased me more profoundly than all of the empty praises and flattery I’d heard since coming to Thebes.
And so the game began, the challenge of finding enough times and places for Amenophis and me to speak with one another without attracting notice. Nava’s practice tablet had to be recoated at least twice because we wore away the layer of wax with our messages. Our meetings were brief, and I did miss the times we’d been able to ride freely through Thebes, but I didn’t dwell on what was now beyond my reach. It was enough to know that we could have them, and that no one could destroy our friendship.
Someday I will be free again, I thought. May Isis help me, I will find a way. And when that day comes, Amenophis, you and I won’t just return to the temples of Karnak, we’ll travel everywhere!
Almost a month passed and Amenophis sent Nava to me with word that he had great news. Come to the stables again, the place and time you know. It will be safe. Nava and I got there before he did and were amusing ourselves by trying to play catch with wayward wisps of straw when he came bursting in. He was so happy that he looked ready to sprout wings and fly.
“He’s better!” Amenophis cried, his joy making him forget the need to keep our voices down. “Father is much better. He made such an improvement overnight that when I left his rooms, the magicians and the doctors were still fighting each other, trying to claim the credit for it. If you ask me, it was all Mother’s doing. Father told me that she made it very clear to him that if he died, she’d follow him to the Afterlife and make him miserable for all eternity.”
“She bullied him back to health?” Knowing Aunt Tiye, I wasn’t surprised.
We spent the remainder of our time rejoicing over his father’s improving health and talking about what sort of thanksgiving offerings we should make to the gods. Neither one of us thought about what Pharaoh’s recovery might mean to our little game.
Within a week, Amenophis’s father was holding court and looking after the business of ruling the Black Land. Formal receptions and banquets for important visitors resumed, though the evening’s festivities ended much earlier than before. Pharaoh Amenhotep was well but not the man he’d been. His broad face showed more lines, his cheeks sagged, and his skin had lost its healthy glow.
As the season of the Inundation waned, ambassadors came to Thebes. They brought tribute from one of the many petty kings who ruled the land of Canaan. Sitamun told Nava and me about the audience that was planned to receive them.
“It’s going to be splendid, of course—Father always says that the more impressive you make yourself look to your neighbors, the more likely they’ll be to think twice before picking a fight with you. But I’m afraid it’s not going to be everything he wants it to be. Mother is doing all she can to cut the ceremonies short. She’s watching Father so closely these days, afraid that he’s going to overexert himself and get sick again! Oh well, I’m sure that however much she shortens the event, it will still be the most remarkable sight those Canaanites ever saw.”