I went to the gunwale, careful to keep myself hidden among the barrels of supplies, and away from the observant gaze of Mr. Hayes who stood on the other end of the dahabeeyah. My uncle was deep in conversation with Reis Hassan and he’d scarcely left the dining room.
I was free to take a last look at Bulaq’s bustling scene. Men dressed in their fine, loose robes haggling over cargo, Egyptian sailors sweating under the blistering sun, carrying large trunks on ships bracketing ours. Tourists swarmed in every direction, chattering in a loud babble that carried across the glittering green surface of the Nile.
Two more people joined our party, one with a barrel-shaped chest, broad shoulders, and thinning blond hair, the other a young woman close to my age. She wore a lavish gown with many trims and silk adornments and a wide-brimmed hat. She held herself regally, but her gaze moved restlessly over the whole of the Elephantine. The wind teased wisps of honey-blond hair to flutter across her delicate face. If my parents had mentioned the pair, I didn’t remember.
The girl suddenly turned in my direction and I ducked behind a barrel. For some inexplicable reason, her presence made me uneasy. Perhaps because she was close to my age, clearly expected and welcomed when I had never been.
Curiosity itched under my skin. I wanted to know who she was, what she was doing on board my uncle’s boat.
I stayed hidden until the sails unfurled to capture the north wind and then we were off, leaving behind the pyramids and the city of a thousand minarets. The sharp breeze tore at my hair, loosening my strands from the tight coil stuffed underneath the fez. I clutched the railing, sure that at any moment someone, somewhere would call out my name. But the only sound came from the crew surrounding me, chattering and singing songs as the current yanked us along. The Elephantine moved upstream, heading south along with dozens of felucca, small wooden ships with pointed sails in the shape of a large triangle. They peppered the great river, carrying fellow travelers seeking adventure.
I went down to retrieve my sketchbook and then settled back out on the deck, hiding myself among the barrels as I drew the ship from memory.
My burning curiosity regarding the only other female passenger flared again. Her presence remained a mystery—the rest of the crew seemed just as surprised to see her board the Elephantine as I was.
My earlier unease returned. She walked around, clearly welcomed and free to do whatever she wished. The girl even made herself useful, unpacking the supplies and carting things into various cabins, while I had to keep myself tucked away, unseen and definitely unwelcomed and useless. While I trusted my disguise, it only worked if I was surrounded with the rest of the crew. People saw what they expected to see, and a teenage girl among the crew would hardly enter their minds—not unless they were specifically looking for me.
But my uncle believed me to be on a different ship altogether. As for Mr. Hayes . . . I only needed to steer clear of him for another day. Tension seeped from my skin, loosening my muscles.
I was safe from discovery.
Slowly, I pulled the trinket box from within my purse. The wood stayed warm against my skin, sometimes vibrating, as if the magic held within its small confines wanted to burst free. It only showed that fragile things could survive. The box spoke of a time long past, a name history remembered. Cleopatra.
A new memory swept forward and I gasped, sinking into a moment that was centuries old. The last Queen of the Nile stood over a table, various ingredients scattered before her in shallow bowls and squat ceramic jars. She pored over a single leaf of parchment filled with curious symbols and drawings; I could just make out the sketch of a snake eating itself and an eight-banded star. Her nimble fingers worked to mix, blend, and chop ingredients. I recognized honey and salt, dried rose petals and herbs, along with animal teeth and grease. She wore a long, nearly transparent gown and from head to foot, lapis, garnet, pearls, gold, turquoise, and amethyst jewels adorned her throat, wrists, ankles, and shoes.
Two women stood before her on the opposite side of the table, dressed elegantly but diminished in comparison to Cleopatra’s lavish ensemble. They were a reflection of her beauty and grace. I instinctively knew they were her handmaidens.
One of them asked a question, the ancient language whisking over my skin. I wish I understood.
Cleopatra didn’t pause in her work but nodded.
The shorter handmaiden asked another question.
Cleopatra replied, her voice distinct. It didn’t waver; it wasn’t soft. It was the kind of voice that soothed and inspired, that ordered and coaxed.
The scene faded, as if a page had turned. I came back into awareness slowly, the sound of the crew singing helping to usher me into the present. For several seconds, I could only breathe as the horror of what I’d seen resonated in my mind.
Cleopatra was adept at magic. The scene I had witnessed was her creating a spell. I groaned, wishing I knew what she had been doing. Her manner had been confident. She was no stranger in potion making.
A prickle of awareness crept across my skin. Someone was watching me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I stuffed the trinket box back into my bag, my heart beating rapidly against my ribs. I swung around, my gaze darting around the deck. I was hidden behind the mast, surrounded by old barrels, but alarm bells rang loudly in my ears.
There was no one.
Not the crew who worked at their posts, nor the Reis or my uncle, who at last had emerged from the saloon. I moved and peered around the strong wood of the mast. Mr. Hayes had settled himself at the front of the dahabeeyah, a lazy grace in the way he leaned against the railing of the Elephantine. He stared wistfully in the direction of Cairo.
I wondered if he regretted leaving me behind.
What a silly thought. It didn’t matter if he did or didn’t. I shook my head, forcing the unbidden question from my mind. I snapped around and sank to the ground. The heat made me drowsy and my eyelids fluttered closed. When I opened them again, a shadow blocked the sun’s piercing glare.
Kareem stared down at me, a bowl of food in his hand. “Are you hungry?”
I nodded and he handed me the food, two eggs and the foul—which didn’t taste nearly as salty as mine had. The savory taste of cumin and garlic gave me a warm feeling that swept to every corner of my body. I wanted more but refrained from asking. Instead, I followed him back to the kitchen and helped scrub the dishes in a big, soapy bucket.
He kept me busy for the rest of the day, prepping the noon meal of breaded fish topped with charred lemons and a side of roasted eggplants in a thick, savory sauce, and the cleanup afterward. As the hours passed, more tension slipped away as if carried off by the north wind, little by little. With the distance widening between our location and Cairo, it was unlikely my uncle would turn us all around. I still didn’t know when or how to reveal myself.