“Are you going to land this boat or not?” I said quickly. “My legs hurt from being folded under me for so long. If I don’t stand up and use them, they’ll probably fall off when we do come ashore.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Amenophis babbled more apologies as he turned the reed boat’s prow toward the western riverbank. We were fortunate to find a stretch of shore where the reeds didn’t grow too thickly and where landing wasn’t difficult. A few date palms clustered together a short distance inland. They were small and had sickly-looking trunks—nothing like the magnificent trees of my dream—but there were a few fistfuls of fruit hanging below their green crowns. Nava exclaimed in delight when she saw the fruit. As nimble as a little monkey, she scrambled up one tree after another to pluck their sweet harvest and bring it down to share with Amenophis and me.
We ate the dates and enjoyed the shade of the trees. “We should stay here a while longer,” I said. “The sun’s at the top of the sky, and we haven’t got a drop of oil to protect our skin. If we’re not careful, we’ll burn or, even worse, be heat-struck.”
Amenophis began to argue with me, urging a quick departure, but I stood my ground. “For all you know, your sister Sitamun has covered our tracks for us. She’s a very smart woman. Think about it: Thutmose discovers that we’re gone and starts raging through the palace, demanding to know who’s responsible for our escape. I wouldn’t put it past Sitamun to act guilty on purpose, just so he’d turn on her and demand a confession. Oh, she would pretend to know nothing about it, but she’d pretend badly, until finally she’d make a great show of breaking down and telling him that we ran away up the river or that we didn’t even sail away at all, but took a chariot and—”
Amenophis chuckled. “Thank the gods that Henenu taught you how to write. You were born to weave stories the way other girls are born to weave linen. But you have to watch out for the loose threads, my friend. If there’s no chariot or horses missing from the stables, that puts an end to that tale.”
“Hmph.” I’d gotten caught up in my own story about Sitamun’s cleverness, and I didn’t like having it picked to pieces. “Well, then, do you want to find fault with the part about her telling Thutmose we’ve gone upriver?”
“Why would we want to sail in that direction? Everything important to our safety lies downriver from Thebes: my parents in Dendera, yours in Akhmin, Lord Osiris’s most sacred city, the refuge of Abydos—”
I threw my date pits at him and turned my back. “You know everything, don’t you? But you don’t know enough to get out of the midday sun.”
I was in a foul temper. The time we’d spent on the river had cramped my legs badly, just as I’d suspected. I hated sitting there while Amenophis did all the work. I didn’t want him to overburden himself, but even more, I didn’t want to be just another piece of baggage, hardly more than the sacks holding our supplies. Why couldn’t I put my hands on the oar, do my share, use my own strength to save myself and my friends? It wasn’t fair.
As I sat there, hunched over like an old woman in the marketplace, Nava crept around to peer up into my face. “Don’t be mad at Amenophis, Nefertiti,” she said. “It’s still a good story, even if he’s right about the parts where you made mistakes.”
Nava had the gift for coaxing smiles out of stones. “Is this how it’s going to be? You and him against me?”
“Well, it is his boat,” Nava said quite seriously. “I like sailing in it. I don’t want to walk all the way to Dendera.”
“Good point,” I said, grinning. “Neither do I.” I looked back at Amenophis, who was trying not to laugh out loud at Nava’s reasoning. “What about it, my friend?” I said. “May we still share your royal watercraft?”
Amenophis stroked his chin as if considering grave matters that might affect half his father’s kingdom. “Hmm, I don’t know. You did throw date pits at me. But you also amused me with your story. All right, you can get back in the boat.”
“No, no,” I said, hanging my head dramatically. “I don’t deserve it. I’ve insulted you; I must be punished. Let me take the oar and steer the boat between here and our next resting place, and let me continue to trade places with you—steersman and passenger—all the way to Dendera. It’s the least I can do to make up for such a terrible offense.”
My friend snorted and smothered his laughter with a bony fist. “Do you know how to manage a boat?”
“Did you, before last night?” I countered.
“When we went duck hunting in the marshes, I paid attention to how our servants mastered the boats.”
“And I’ve been paying attention to how you’ve been doing it. So unless you think I’m dull-witted or a bad student—”
“She’s not,” Nava spoke up, giving Amenophis a fierce glare that dared him to say otherwise. “You know she’s not!”
Amenophis raised both hands in surrender. “If I say yes, it will be a sin that will weigh down my heart when I stand before Lord Osiris’s judgment in the afterlife. Ammut the Devourer of Hearts will have me for sure! You can take the oar, Nefertiti, except …”
“What?”
“You need to do something about that.” He gestured at my dress. “It’s too long. You could trip while steering the boat and fall in the river. The gods forbid it, but—but it would tangle your legs and drag you down.”
His words called up awful memories. I suppressed a shudder as I stood up and stuck out my hand. “That’s easily fixed. Give me your knife, Amenophis. Please.”