“Then I won’t stand still. I’ll run into the temple. I’ll push the hollow goddess from her pedestal, and if I don’t have the strength to do that, then I’ll find the hiding place of the priest who filled Ma’at’s mouth with lies and I’ll drag him out of there, into the light. Let the shining face of Aten destroy the shadows that hid him!”
My voice rose and I was breathing hard, but I couldn’t help myself. If someone overheard me, so be it. I was already condemned. What else did I have to fear? I realized that all my bold intentions for storming Ma’at’s shrine were as empty as the goddess’s image; I’d be seized by guardsmen before I could fulfill a single one. Still, I wouldn’t accept my unjust fate without a battle. Thutmose’s wicked plans might pull me down, but I would never bow my head to them. I would never surrender.
“Nefertiti, calm yourself, I beg you.” Henenu’s sturdy, capable hands held mine firmly. “Such fierceness. When did my little Seshat become the lion-headed Sekhmet, ravenous for blood and war?”
“No blood, Henenu,” I said. “No blood and no war: justice. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Since I won’t get it tomorrow, will you at least give me something else?”
“I already have something that I—”
“Give me your word,” I said, interrupting whatever he was trying to say. “Make me a solemn promise that after tomorrow, you’ll bring Nava to my family in Akhmin. Amenophis would take care of her, but I don’t want her to stay here. This place will hold too many bad memories for her.” Another thought struck me. “Oh! But Akhmin will hold worse ones. Henenu, you have to help me find another place for Nava to go, somewhere she’ll feel safe at last, loved, somewhere she’ll find a new family to cherish her.”
“I can’t agree to do that for you, Nefertiti.” The scribe shifted his weight and took a small roll of papyrus from the leather case at his belt. He unrolled it so that the writing was plain for me to see by the oil lamps’ light and weighted down the ends with his hands. “She needs no new family. Her sister is alive.”
10
THE VOICE OF MA’AT
“She’s alive! She’s alive! Oh, Nava, your sister, Mahala, is alive!”
The instant that I heard Nava’s small feet cross the threshold to my rooms, I leaped up and rushed to greet her with the wondrous news. Henenu’s revelation had gone to my head like the strongest wine ever poured, dazzling and dimming my senses at the same time. All I wanted to do was dance and clap my hands and laugh out loud like a madwoman.
I was too ecstatic to realize what a shock I was giving to the little girl. She dropped the bowl of fruit she’d brought us and shook so hard I heard her teeth clatter in her head. All she could say was “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, until the words became a heartrending whimper that ended in a howl.
“Nava, please, no, I’m the one who’s sorry!” I cried, hugging her. “Don’t cry, I beg you! This isn’t the time for tears. I’m telling you the truth. Mahala is alive. Listen, listen, let Henenu tell you. It’s not a dream.”
The dwarf got to his feet and walked slowly to where I was frantically trying to undo the harm I’d done with my unthinking eagerness. He bent over and picked up a handful of the sweet, spicy fruit of the doum palm from the shards of Nava’s bowl. “If this were a dream, child, no one would be able to make me share these delicious treats with you.” He pressed them into her trembling hand. “Here. I don’t need them. What I have to tell you fills my mouth with honey every time I repeat it. But you must stop crying. Your tears are too salty and the doum fruit will taste bad.”
Nava gulped for breath, then began to chew on the fruit, all the while staring at Henenu like an owlet. I led her to the one chair in the room and coaxed her to sit in my lap.
“Ah, this is good.” The scribe knelt on the floor once more. The papyrus holding the glad news about Nava’s sister had rolled itself back up in the recent uproar, so Henenu smoothed it out and slapped his thick thighs with satisfaction. “If I live forever, I’ll never get tired of looking at this scrap of beaten reeds and ink,” he said. “And I’ll never get tired of remembering how it came to me. When you two fled Thebes, I missed you very much, you know. It was just Princess Sitamun and me at lessons, while you were gone. She’s an intelligent young woman and a good scholar, but she knows so much already that our lessons were only practice, practice, practice, writing the words she’d already learned. It wasn’t as much fun as teaching you new things, but it did give me some extra time to pursue a matter that had been on my mind. Your sister had a reputation for being a very talented girl, true, Nava?”
Nava nodded. “Mahala was the best music-maker in our master’s house; he said so himself. She played the double-flute so well that he used to send her to the homes of important people to entertain their guests when they had parties.”
“For a price, no doubt,” I said.
“Oh, no doubt about that at all,” Henenu responded. “We three are all from Akhmin, so we know what a good place that is for gossip, right, girls? Well, maybe you’re too young to know about such things, Nava, but trust me, it’s true. Our people love to talk. Rumors thrive like rats in a grain jar. Luckily, so does news. Ever since I heard about your sister’s fate, little one, something about the whole business didn’t sit right with me. She was a valuable slave, and the high priest of Isis has a reputation in Akhmin for being a man who doesn’t part with his treasures easily.”