Nava shook her head a second time. “Not the gods—their priests. Like the one who—who—” Tears began to trickle from her eyes. The old, brutal, pitiless pain of her sister’s death was back, tormenting her tender heart. She thrust her harp away so hard that it crashed to the ground and the wood split, the strings jangled. I tried to hold her, but she curled herself into a ball and rocked back and forth, mourning her loss anew.
I let her cry herself out until all she could manage were a few hoarse sobs, then silence. Was it always this way? I thought as I stroked her back and pulled her tousled hair away from her hot, tear-wet face. Did the servants of the gods always serve their own desires first?
I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t: Father often told me of the time when he and the grandfather I’d never known had served the patron god of Akhmin, Min himself. Father was filled with tales of how he and Grandfather and the other priests of Min had used the offerings to ease the lives of Akhmin’s poor, not to fatten themselves. I turned my thoughts to conversations I’d overheard between Father and my second mother, Mery. Whenever the town celebrated one of the great festivals, they were always open-handed with the sacrifices they brought to the gods’ altars, and it gave them pleasure to talk about those priests and priestesses who turned this bounty into charity.
“Did you see our new Amun priest today, Mery?” Father’s words whispered in my head. “He was personally overseeing the distribution of grain from the temple storehouse to the widows of the city.”
“I wish they were all like that, Ay.” The memory of Mery’s gentle voice brought tears of homesickness to my eyes.
“I think most of them are, my beloved. I think that the virtuous, honest priests and priestesses outnumber the corrupt servants of the gods. It’s just that we tend to notice wrongdoing more than goodness.
“I suppose that’s for the best,” Mery replied. “If we notice it, we can put an end to it.”
Father’s sigh was a wisp of smoke. “We can … if we have the strength to do it.”
I sat cross-legged and pulled Nava into my lap. Sometimes she seemed like a wise old woman in a child’s body, but at moments like this, she was as fragile and defenseless as an infant. I would never know how old she was. She’d been born a slave, and some households didn’t bother noting the ages of their human property except as too young to earn her keep yet or ready to breed more children for us or too old to bring a good price if we sell her. Her age didn’t matter to me, only that she was in need of someone to shield her from harm.
What will become of her if tomorrow goes badly for me? I thought. My heart beat faster. At least a slave has a master who wants to protect his valuable property—to feed and clothe and shelter what belongs to him. But if I’m gone, Nava will have nothing and no one. Amenophis! I have to write a letter to Amenophis, telling him to take care of her. It mustn’t wait!
“Nava, dear, there’s something important I need to do right away. You have to help me. Can you get up?” I murmured to her.
She lifted her chin, wiping her nose on the back of one hand. “Yes. I’m all right now. I’m sorry I cried.” She stood up and I did the same. “What do you need?”
“Papyrus and a scribe’s kit. Do you remember where I put mine? Is it still in these rooms?”
“I think you had it with you when the bad prince locked you away,” Nava said.
I slapped my brow with one hand. Of course! How could I forget the night when I’d used my stone palette to save myself from the poisonous serpent Thutmose had sent to kill me? I’d never look at a scribe’s gear the same way again.
“Well, when you bring me the papyrus, see if you can borrow a kit, too. I need to write a letter.”
“Who are you writing to?”
“Amenophis.”
“Oh.” Nava gave me a penetrating look. “Is it a love letter?”
“Why should you care about that, you nosy kitten?” I told her lightly. “Do you want to help me, or do you want to spend the rest of the evening asking me questions that are none of your business?”
“I’ll help,” Nava said. “But I don’t know how you’re going to see that he gets the letter. I’ll bet the queen has him tied up like a dog somewhere, with a whole army of guards around him.”
“Or”—a familiar, plain, much-loved face showed itself in the archway leading to my courtyard—“or she could have made the grave mistake of assigning the two greediest men in the palace to watch over me.”
“Amenophis!” I was in his arms so fast that I slammed him against the frame.
“Shhh, not so loud, dear one,” he said, kissing my brow. “Some of the palace guards are greedy and some are gullible, but none of them are deaf.”
“Come with me,” I said, taking him by the hand and leading him into my rooms. I had kindled one oil lamp at sunset, and now I asked Nava to light more. There weren’t enough chairs for the three of us, so we knelt together on the ground, as we’d done so many other nights on the road. How good it was to see his face again! I cupped his cheek in my hand and sighed happily. “You’re so handsome.”
He laughed. “And you are very brave to say such lies when you’re about to appear before Ma’at in the morning.”
“If it’s a lie, Ma’at will read it in my heart, and if Ma’at can read my heart, she’ll know that it’s not a lie.” I kissed him softly. “I’m glad you’re here. What did you use to bribe your guards? It must have been an incredible amount for them to risk the punishment Aunt Tiye will give them if you’re caught out of your apartments.”
“That’s between the guards and my liberator—my temporary liberator. I had nothing to do with it. My jailers are busy performing a ‘very important’ task for a royal princess who somehow couldn’t manage to find one other soul in all the palace to do it for her. She’s a very righteous young woman, that princess, and deeply scandalized by how my behavior has offended our exalted mother. So not only were my guards richly rewarded for serving Pharaoh’s daughter, but they also know their miserable prisoner won’t stray in their absence, not when his own sister is keeping a stern, disapproving eye on him.”