I agreed. “I was horrified when I first heard what he’d done with her, but afterward, when the shock dulled, I had a hard time believing it. The high priest wanted to punish me and my family—Father rejected that man’s proposal for me to marry his son—but if he really ordered Mahala’s death, he’d be punishing himself worse.”
“Apparently he saw it that way, too,” Henenu remarked. “I wanted to settle my doubts about this one way or the other, so I wrote to my family and asked them to keep their eyes and ears open, to seek out the biggest busybodies in Akhmin, and to ask discreet questions. Shortly before you came back to Thebes, I had my answer.” He tapped the papyrus. “The high priest of Isis had not thrown away what he could sell for a good price. He owed a large debt to one of his colleagues, a servant of the creator-god Ptah at Memphis. Mahala was that payment.”
“Memphis!” I often had heard Father speak of that city, once the foremost in the Black Land until our rulers turned their favor to Thebes. My parents had sailed past Memphis when they accompanied Pharaoh Amenhotep and Aunt Tiye on their northward pilgrimage to visit those monuments. It was my mother’s last voyage. “That’s so far away!”
“Yes, far enough from Akhmin to make it seem as if Mahala truly had vanished from the land of the living. But as my mother always says, a gossiping tongue is long enough to reach from the earth to the moon.” He made a wry face. “And she ought to know. She was the first to hear this.” He tapped the unscrolled papyrus again. “Nava, be glad: Your sister is still playing her music in this world.”
Nava beamed, her face now streaming with tears of joy. She clapped her hands and exclaimed something in a language I didn’t understand. Even if the words were foreign to me, I would have wagered my life that she was saying a prayer of thanksgiving to the One she worshipped.
I gave her a hug and set her on her feet as I stood up. “Dear one, do you remember the casket where my best jewels are kept?” I asked her. “I want you to bring it to me, please.” She looked puzzled, but obeyed.
“Nefertiti, if you’re thinking of giving me a reward for this news, I assure you, it’s not necessary. This news is my reward,” Henenu said gravely.
“I’m not giving you a reward, my friend,” I replied as Nava returned with the gilded and painted wooden box. “I’m giving you a task.” I opened the lid and took out the pieces, one by one. Each was exquisite, a gift for the girl who had come here to become crown princess of the Black Land, and someday queen.
That girl was gone. Why should her jewels remain?
I placed the box in the scribe’s hands and knelt before him, my hands raised as if praying to one of the gods. “I beg of you, Henenu, take all this and use it to travel north to Memphis. Bring Nava with you. Find the priest of Ptah who owns her sister and buy the girl her freedom. Leave at once—tonight, if you can, or before dawn tomorrow. Please.”
“So soon?” Henenu’s eyebrows shot up. “But, Nefertiti, tomorrow is—”
“Please,” I repeated, and looked meaningfully from him to Nava and back. The scribe was a wise man. He understood my unspoken plea: Don’t let her be here tomorrow when I stand before the goddess of truth in the house of lies. If the worst happens, I don’t want it to poison her new happiness. Remember what you asked me only a short while ago? “Haven’t you ever wanted to shield someone you love?” I want to shield her, Henenu, more than anything and with all my heart!
The scribe rose from the ground and stowed his precious papyrus. “Well, my little friend, it is a long way to Memphis, but it won’t get any shorter if we stand around here. Run and bring anything you might want for the journey, and we’ll begin nosing about the palace and the city for news of any ships heading north. I know a couple of clever young scribes-in-training who won’t mind helping their old teacher with this. You and I will be on the river by dawn.”
“I—I don’t want to leave Nefertiti,” Nava protested.
“Don’t you want to see your sister as soon as you can?” I asked.
She looked miserable. “But you’re my sister, too. You said so.”
“And I meant it. You will always be a sister to me, Nava.” I kissed her brow. “I love you. Nothing will ever change that. But Mahala needs you more than I do now. You were all the family she had. She wasn’t even given the chance to tell you good-bye. How long has it been since she had any news about what became of you? Her new master wouldn’t know and her old one didn’t care. Go to her, Nava. The moment she sees you again will be an even greater joy and blessing to her than the moment you tell her she’s going to be free.”
There were more tears between Nava and me and many more hugs and kisses before she gathered up her few possessions and left with Henenu. I went into the courtyard and looked at the sky. Although no one was with me, the presence of all those who cared about me, loved me, missed me, surrounded me like a cloak of starlight. The fragrant shadows whispered with the ghostly echoes of Father calling me his little kitten, Mery proudly telling the neighbors what a fine dancer I’d become, Bit-Bit’s giggles, Henenu’s praises, Sitamun’s friendly advice, Nava’s song, and Amenophis’s tender words of love. I was by myself, but I was not alone.
Let tomorrow come. I was at peace.
I don’t know when my maids returned that night. I was in my bed, sleeping deeply. I woke up to find myself covered with at least eight of Sitamun’s badly laundered and pleated gowns. I suppose they wanted to make sure that I couldn’t miss the evidence that they’d actually accomplished the task I’d given them the day before.