“She’s looked after my son many times since my wife died,” he told us. “I’m very thankful for that.” There was more affection than gratitude in his voice when he spoke about her. I wondered if she noticed. “She’s the only one who thought to ask me about where he’s been.”
The woman snorted. “We live in a village full of people who care only about the doings within their own four walls. Of course I asked about the child! If I were married, I’d pray to the gods every day to bless me with such a sweet boy. And a fine answer I got, once I bullied it out of this one.” She jabbed Samut with her elbow. “That brother of mine is the only family I’ve got left alive, but he’s always been trouble. When he ran away with those nasty friends of his, I praised the gods. Now I hear he’s back like this? To rob a tomb and condemn his heart to eternal death? I’ll push him off a clifftop first!”
“You know we can’t make any open moves against those men,” I told her.
Kawit snorted again, louder and more eloquently. “You think I don’t know that? Samut tells me you three are nothing but a bunch of deep, dark secrets. You’re welcome to keep ’em, but you’d best know you’re not the only ones with the wit to keep your mouths shut. Here.” She was carrying a big basket that she now shoved into my hands. “He told me what you’ve got in mind. You’ll be able to use what I’ve brought, and you’ll use me, too, or I’ll know the reason why!”
Oh, I liked her! “Samut’s a lucky man to know you, Kawit,” I said. “I hope he realizes that.”
“Who cares?” she grumbled, but I saw her blush.
With an extra pair of hands, our preparations went much faster. Samut was free to go back to his home and rest so that he’d be completely alert for what awaited him. We were ready to set out well before sunset. Kawit led us from our cave on the hike into the valley of the dead. Our goal lay halfway up the side of one of the cliffs. It wasn’t a formidable march—even little Nava was able to cover the distance easily while carrying a highly uncooperative Ta-Miu—though it was a struggle for Amenophis. He did his best to keep pace with the rest of us, but I could tell he was still weakened from his scorpion bite and forcing himself to go faster than was comfortable for him.
“Do you want to lean on my shoulders?” I asked.
He reacted as if I’d caught him committing a crime. “You have enough to do,” he said, sweat beading his brow with every painful step. “You’re carrying the bow and arrows and that heavy basket of firewood and a flask of oil; you aren’t going to carry me as well.”
“Stubborn,” I snapped.
“Look who’s talking,” he snapped back.
“Are you two married?” Kawit’s question slapped the two of us into embarrassed silence for the rest of the march.
Amenophis balked when he saw the place where Kawit brought us. “It’s a tomb!” he cried, looking deep into the shaft cut into the cliffside.
“It’s not a tomb yet,” I said. “Not until someone is laid to rest inside.”
“It’s true,” Kawit said. “And look, this one’s hardly begun. The stonecutters haven’t even started to carve out the chambers, only this entryway. It’s nowhere near to being finished, not like the one being prepared for Pharaoh, may he live forever.”
Amenophis looked pained. It must have been a chilling thought to realize he was standing in the valley where his own father would be buried. I didn’t blame him for not wanting to think about such things, even if Pharaoh Amenhotep would ascend to eternal life among the stars. His son would still miss him when he was gone.
We went into the new tomb and settled down to wait. Kawit shared bread and fruit with us while the sky darkened outside. We’d kindled a fire at the very back of the passageway and laid out the torches we’d want for the night’s work. We kept the blaze small so that its light could be mostly blocked. If the tomb robbers saw any sign to make them suspect our presence, it would be all over for us and, more importantly, for Samut’s son.
When we finished eating, we each took our places for what was to come. Nava scooped up Ta-Miu and popped her into the covered basket Kawit had brought. The woven reed lid muffled the regal cat’s yowls of indignation. Meanwhile, Kawit began painting my face.
“How do I look?” I asked when she was done. Earlier, with her help, I’d restyled my clothing, tying and tightening the fit of the fabric so that I looked as if I were wearing a sheath. Nava used the same paints that Samut had provided to turn the plain linen into an exotic display of stripes—red and blue and green—like nothing any ordinary girl would wear. My hair was adorned with the one piece of jewelry Kawit owned, a multicolored bead necklace. It wasn’t costly, but the beads were large, shiny, and would catch the light nicely. “Do you think I’ll be convincing?”
“Your face is all red,” Nava said. “And your eyes look much bigger, like an owl’s.”
“Hmph! An owl wouldn’t have such beautiful eyes, even ringed by all that red paint,” Kawit said. “Don’t insult my work. I learned from my father, and he was one of the best tomb painters ever. If there was any fairness in this world, I’d be able to do his job now that he’s gone.”
“You look … formidable,” Amenophis said, gazing at me. “Beautiful, yes, but—”
“Formidable is much more important than beautiful,” I cut in. “Especially tonight.”
We all took our places. Kawit filled a small clay pot with embers and a cloth sling with precious wood to keep them alive. Nava followed her out of the tomb, carrying four thick sticks with rags bound to their ends, and I followed Nava to have one last look at the board where we were about to play out a most perilous game.