“You won’t call them.” I took a step closer to him. “If you do, I swear by every god that lives, I’ll set this lamp to your oil-soaked clothing and skin. I’ll do it! You’ll be in flames before the first soldier comes through that doorway.”
I glared at him, striving to look as menacing as possible. He had to believe that I’d fulfill my threat. I had to make myself act as though I’d turned into a creature as heartless as he, or everything would be lost. O Thoth, lord of wisdom, sometimes you use your powers for trickery, too. Lend me your divine skill to mislead my enemy! Turn my face into a mask of ruthlessness as frightening as Thutmose’s own!
Thutmose’s face paled. He held up his hands in surrender. “All right, Nefertiti. Go in peace. I won’t try to stop you. Take the honey, take bandages for my brother, take anything you like.”
“I’m not a fool, Thutmose,” I said. “If I leave you like this, I won’t have gone twenty steps before you rouse your men.” I waved the lamp at the remaining jars and flasks from the medicine casket. “Pick up the poppy juice,” I told him.
It took him some time to find the right jar. He couldn’t take his eyes off me and had to keep picking them up, one after another, so that he could glance at the writing on the seals. Finally he found the clay vessel that held the sleeping potion. He scraped off the wax seal, removed the stopper, and raised it partway to his lips.
“How—how much should I take?” he asked.
I had no idea, but I hazarded a guess. “Two mouthfuls.”
“Are you sure? Too much, and I might never wake up again.”
I had the same concern. I didn’t want him dead, just sleeping too deeply to call for his men. However, I couldn’t let him know I cared if he lived or died. I took a step closer, brandishing the lamp. “I won’t argue with you anymore, Thutmose. I’ll just give you a choice: Drink or burn.”
He drank.
The moments that followed left my nerves scraped raw. It seemed as if the poppy juice would never work or that I’d ordered him to take too small a dose. Then I saw his eyelids begin to droop, his whole body begin to slump.
“May I—please, may I—?” He nodded feebly to his bed. His words were slow and slurred. I nodded, and he lay down. I hovered over him, heard the rhythm of his breath, and just to be sure, I pinched his arm. He didn’t stir. There could be no doubt of it: He was wrapped in the spell of sleep.
I put the lamp down and began searching all the chests in the tent as fast as I could. I took clothing, food, and half the contents of the medicine casket. My ragged dress was left in a heap on the floor, replaced by a pair of Thutmose’s linen kilts that I fastened together to make a decent garment. Two goatskin bags went over my shoulders. I didn’t know what sort of drink they held, but anything would be welcome. Just as I was about to steal away, my eyes lit on Thutmose’s bow and quiver. As soon as I secured the arrows so that they wouldn’t rattle against each other, I left.
I had no light to guide my steps as I made my way from Thutmose’s encampment. I couldn’t risk taking the oil lamp and having some restless soldier catch sight of it. I had to make do using the moon and stars and memory. Once I reached the canal, my road was easier.
I returned with the faint light that comes before true dawn. I found Nava and Amenophis where I’d left them, in the shelter of the ruined house. As soon as she heard me approach, Nava turned her tearstained face in my direction.
“Where were you?” Her mournful greeting tore my heart.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” I said. “Will you forgive me? Look at what I have for you.” I opened one of the sacks I’d stuffed with food from Thutmose’s tent and filled her hands with bread.
While she ate, I knelt beside Amenophis. He seemed to be resting comfortably, and his skin was no longer flushed, but I had to lay my hand on his forehead to be sure.
“Where were you, Nefertiti?” He half opened his eyes, and a wisp of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“Nowhere I want to go again,” I replied. “Your brother’s tent.”
“What?” Now his eyes flew wide open. “Is that where you went last night? Did you lose your mind?”
I told him the simple truth: “I wouldn’t have gone if I’d had any choice about it. I was afraid that if I didn’t find something to treat your fever and that scorpion bite, I’d lose you.” I cocked my head and studied him closely. “Maybe I was too reckless. You seem better. You don’t feel hot anymore.”
“I have Nava to thank for that. I don’t know what helped more—all the cool cloths she kept putting on my head or all the prayers she offered to her god. You know, I asked her why her people had only one god, and she said she wasn’t sure, but she thought it was because if a god was supposed to be able to do anything and everything, why would you need more than one?” He laughed. “She may have a point.”
“Well, how powerful were her prayers?” I asked, looking down at his foot. I’d hoped for a happy surprise, but the swelling looked no better and daylight let me see the deep purple discoloration surrounding the sting. I could hardly stand the sight of it.
“Oh, Amenophis!” I cried in sympathy. “Can you move it?”
“Yes, but I’d rather not. Last night when I had to get up to—you know—I accidentally put a bit of weight on it. The next thing I knew, the whole world flashed white, then red, then black. I must have fainted, because I woke up with Nava dribbling water all over my face.”
I wanted to throw my arms around him and beg the gods to let me share half the burden of his pain. And how will an outburst like that do him any good? I asked myself. He’ll just feel guilty for having caused you so much grief. Forget tears—do something useful.
I planted my hands on my thighs. “We’ll have to do something about that. If we’re not far away from here soon, Thutmose will catch up to us. I wasn’t thinking about covering my tracks when I came back here, and if any of his men are good hunters, they might be able to pick up my trail. Nava!”