The Scarab Saga - Chapter 1: Secrets
Despite Scarab's calm outward exterior, conflicting emotions tore at him. He knew that he should wake her and confess his secret, but even as he started to speak, a desire that many would have thought unnatural arose within him. "Rathera Mutemwiya," he murmured, pushing back a lock of hair that had fallen in her face. Knowing from the moment he had heard her name that what he felt was wrong, Scarab still allowed himself to be carried along by the torrents of his passion. Now, he was in too deep to tell her the truth.
How could he speak his own full name to her? In the palace, he was only known as the lord vizier Scarab. Before though, he had been Scarab Mutemwiya, the first-born son, sent to a noble family as a fosterling so that he might prosper and bring pride to the family. Sadly, though, Scarab had disgraced himself before making his way to the palace where he would be an unknown. His father's angry words still twisted in his gut like a dagger. "You are no son of mine."
Beneath the blankets, Scarab could feel Rathera stirring. As always, Rathera automatically tensed, reaching for her weapons as she awoke, a movement which still disconcerted her lover. Realizing where she lay, Rathera smiled up at Scarab and kissed him tenderly. Pulling away slightly, Scarab motioned towards the breakfast his servant, Rhett, had brought up earlier.
Rhett, unlike most of the servants in the palace, reported directly to Scarab. When Scarab had first risen to position of vizier, Amenhotep advised him to take at least one servant, saying it was unseemly for a man of his station to be without attendants. Now, Scarab found himself grateful for Rhett's presence. Rhett knew enough not to gossip about his master's affairs, and often anticipated Scarab's desires. 'Almost,' thought Scarab, 'as though he knew what I was going to ask before I asked it.'
As he nibbled on a pomegranate wedge, Scarab once again found himself trying to broach the subject. "Rathera, I... I have something to tell you." Gazing into her dark eyes, the words stuck in his throat as they had a thousand times before. So close! He was so close to telling her, held back only by the fear of losing the one true love of his life. Forcing a playful smile, Scarab whispered, "But now is not the time."
"And when will the time be?" Rathera laughed, her eyebrows shooting up questioningly. Privately, she admitted that she was annoyed with the vizier. This wasn't the first time he'd begun to say something while looking as though the Trackers of Souls were chasing him, only to suddenly smile and laugh it off. She noticed the hunted look flicker briefly across Scarab's face before he answered jokingly, "When I become pharaoh." They both laugh, somewhat uncomfortably, over the vizier's half-hearted jest.
After breakfast, Rathera stood with an almost shy and partly apologetic smile. Pressing close to her lover, she sighed. "What I wouldn't give, Scarab, to spend all day with you and only you. However, duty calls... In the form of an annoying young prince so used to being waited on hand and foot that he probably couldn't even manage to dress properly by himself if he had to!"
Scarab murmured quietly, "Careful, my dear. Your prejudices are showing." With one final kiss, a quick peck which contrasted sharply with the previous night's love-making, Scarab watched Rathera leave to go off to her duties. The moment Rathera was out of sight, Scarab seemed almost to deflate. He knew it was becoming harder and harder to not tell her his secret. One of these days, she would find out and then... And then... 'She will leave me,' Scarab thought.
Scarab turned to get ready for the day's work, only to find Rhett standing behind him al ready holding out a fresh kilt. With a startled yelp, Scarab snatched the kilt from Rhett. "Must you always sneak up on me like that?" he exclaimed as he dressed, otherwise seeming almost oblivious to the other man's presence. Knowing that a response would only anger his master more, Rhett remained silent, and sure enough, Scarab's mood passed as quickly as the summer storms.
All throughout the day, while listening to suppliants come to see the pharaoh and determining who was worthy to speak with the Living Horus and who was not, Scarab found his mind returning time and time again to what he'd said earlier. 'When I become Pharaoh,' he thought to himself. 'It's not all that unfeasible. If something were to happen to Rapses, I would be next in line for the throne, and if something were to happen to Amenhotep...' Scarab quickly pulled his mind from such treasonous thoughts, but still, like a horse being led to water, he found himself thinking about it again. 'And why should I not be Pharaoh? I already practically run the palace. Most importantly though, if I were Pharaoh, I could tell Rathera my secret without fear and then maybe wed her if she'll still have me. But what woman would say no to the Pharaoh? Besides, it has not been unheard of for past pharaoh's to wed within the family.' By the time the last petitioner had left, Scarab was only mildly surprised to find that he had indeed made up his mind to destroy the royal family.
Rathera glanced around furtively as she entered the Temple of Mesenet. She hated having to sneak around Scarab's back, but if she had told him her plans to come by this particular temple, Scarab would easily have guessed her reasons. Pausing at the altar table, she bowed and murmured a quick prayer to the stone form of the goddess beyond it. The flickering torchlight made it seem as though the double coil over the goddess's head lived, writhing in the shadows overhead. The sound of chanting in the background lent the temple an unearthly quality, as did the smell of burning incense.
To Rathera's right, gauzy curtains parted and from the temple depths came a priestess whose features might have been carved from the same stone as the goddess's image. Rathera suppressed a surge of jealousy as she took in the priestess's perfect oval face, full ruby lips, and wealth of dark hair coiled doubly on the top of her head in imitation of the goddess.
The priestess circled Rathera slowly, studying the young guardian coolly. Self-consciously, Rathera stood a little straighter and smoothed the wrinkles out of her kilt. Finally, after almost unendurable silence, the priestess spoke. "I congratulate you on the new ka that the goddess has chosen to form within you." Rathera blanched, her face going deathly white at the priestess's confirmation of her worst fears.
Rathera turned and fled the temple, stumbling once on the steps leading outside. The moment she reached the sandy streets, Rathera began running, her leather sandals pounding the ground with the strength of her fury and shame. Passers-by were a blur to her tear-filled eyes as she pushed her way through them. Their angry shouts reached her ears only as a dull roar.
Scarab! She had to see Scarab! They would wed this very night! Rathera dashed into the palace, the marble tiles echoing her hurried footfalls. Once Rathera thought she caught a glimpse of her brother's bright green and gold henhet, but she didn't stop to be sure. The last thing Rathera needed to hear right now was one of Rath's lectures on ladylike behavior.
After what seemed an eternity of running, Rathera finally barged into Scarab's quarters, calling frantically for her lover. "Scarab! Scarab! Where are you? I need you!" No answer came, however. 'Of course Scarab wouldn't be in yet,' she suddenly realized. 'It is still early in the day.'
Rathera collapsed on the feather-stuffed cushions she and Scarab had lain upon the night before, sobbing and laughing hysterically. The subtle smell of Scarab's scented oils still clung to the cushions. "I hate you!" she screamed, taking her fury out on the innocent cushions. Even as the words left her mouth, though, Rathera knew them for a lie.
Rathera pounded again and again at the cushions. Soft feathers flew all around her, but she merely brushed them away. A soft voice pierced through her rage. "Lady Rathera?" Rathera spun to see Rhett's slim form braced in the doorway, his eyes asking a million questions. Only slowly did Rathera become aware of the dagger in her hand, and she just stared at it, puzzled because she couldn't remember drawing it. Glancing guiltily down at the cushions, Rathera saw they had been cut, stabbed, and slashed to ribbons.
In a few easy strides, Rhett crossed the room to Rathera and quickly caught her wrist in one hand. With his other hand, Rhett took the dagger from her before she could do any more damage with it. "I'm pregnant, Rhett," Rathera whispered. She marveled at how easily the dreaded words came to her. "I'm pregnant, and Scarab never wants to talk about marriage, and now that he's sown his seed he'll leave me, and I'll be all alone, and what am I going to do?" Long, shuddering sobs wracked her thin frame as she poured her heart out to Scarab's servant.
For a time, Rhett just stared at Rathera, uncertain of what to say. Finally, he sat down on the ruined cushions, placing the dagger on the floor, and motioned for Rathera to sit as well. He spoke softly, forcing Rathera to listen closely to what he had to say. "Scarab loves you dearly, Rathera. You should know this better than anyone. Even if he does not marry you, he will never abandon you." Slowly Rhett once again rose to his feet. "I must get back to work now. Please, think on what I said, and if you need me, call."
Rathera stared after Rhett, amazed by the comfort she felt from his simple words. "He will never abandon me," she whispered softly to herself. Placing her hand over her abdomen where the new life within her slowly grew, she quickly corrected herself. "He will never abandon us." From the doorway, Rhett smiled sadly as he watched, wishing that all of life's problems could be solved so easily.
Scarab slowly made his way back to his quarters, exhausted from the day's work. His golden serpent-shaped staff tapped out a wearied counter-point to his steps. Pausing in the hallway, he rubbed his aching eyes with his ink-stained fingers. If he had to read over another document today, he was going to scream. Scarab shook his head with a sigh, knowing that this was just a brief respite. He had to hurry and get ready for the Pharaoh's dinner. He privately loathed these events, knowing that his time could be better spent not entertaining the many priests and diplomats that came to fawn over Amenhotep in the hope of gaining favors.
For the first time, Scarab became aware of Rath sitting out in the hall, his small scribe's table laying over his lap. The scribe's quill pen moved quickly across a piece of papyrus, slowing only long enough to be dipped momentarily into the ink. Curious, Scarab stepped over so that he could see what held Rath's attention so. As his shadow fell across the parchment, Rath looked up in surprise. "Lord Scarab!" he gasped. "Please forgive me. I did not see you there."
Shaking his head, Scarab replied, "There is nothing that needs forgiving. I only wished to see what you were writing." Now he could see quite clearly that Rath was working on a letter. "You are writing home?"
Rath nodded quickly, his tall henhet falling over his eyes. Pushing it back into place, he explained, "Father wishes to be kept updated on the happenings in the palace, especially where my sister is concerned. He does not quite approve of her presence here." Something in Rath's tone told Scarab that the young scribe did not necessarily disagree with his father. Scarab started to take a step towards his room, when Rath called out, "Lord Scarab, wait! Rathera spends a great deal of time with you. There is nothing inappropriate going on between you, is there?"
Scarab turned with a smile, feeling a mischievous streak rise up within him. "I look after Rathera as if she was my own little sister," he answered. "She came to me to learn the magic that others would not teach her, and now devours every scrap of knowledge I can give her." Scarab experienced a perverse sense of pleasure as he watched Rath wince at the none too subtle insult. Before continuing on to his quarters, Scarab added politely, "Please send your family my regards and wishes of good health."
The vizier left Rath writing out his letters, and, quickening his pace to make up for the time spent with the young scribe, rushed into his rooms. As Scarab stepped through the doorway, he got the distinct impression that something wasn't right. His staff twisted in his hands to scan the room, showing the first signs of sentience that day. "Easy, Heka," Scarab murmured, running a soothing hand across the golden cobra's hood.
The torches had been allowed to burn down, leaving the room cast in darkness and vague shadows. Scarab carefully made his way through the room to a rough wooden table. Running his hands over the tabletop, he found the bowl of naphtha he kept there for late nights. He took it and felt his way to the nearest torch-holder, which he refilled. Heka spat out a small flame to re-light the torch.
The torch sprang to life, pushing back the darkness somewhat and allowing Scarab to see that there was nothing out of the ordinary in his main living quarters. That left only his bedroom and his laboratory. Grabbing a candle from a shelf, Scarab lit it on the torch, then peered into his lab. Nothing. The lab was exactly as he had left it this morning. Pulling back into the main room, Scarab stared at the entrance to his sleeping quarters.
With only the one room left to check, Scarab began to believe his suspicions had been nothing more than the product of an over-active imagination. Standing among the eerily dancing shadows, one couldn't be sure of anything. Still, Scarab carefully stepped into the entrance of his room, thrusting the candle ahead of him.
Scarab gasped at the sight which met his eyes. Shredded cloth and feathers littered the floor. A figure lay still among the mess. Whether dead or alive Scarab couldn't tell. A familiar dagger could be seen near the body. Scarab silently thanked every deity that came to mind that there was no blood upon the blade. His thanks, however, turned to prayers and pleas of desperation as he recognized the figure's dark tangle of hair.
Kneeling down beside Rathera, Scarab pushed the hair out of her face and felt for a pulse, which to his relief still beat strong and steady. 'She lives,' he thought ecstatically. 'She lives!' Gently, Scarab brushed his hand over her cheeks, noting that they were sticky with dried tears.
Rathera's eyes flew open suddenly. In one quick fluid movement, she pinned Scarab to the ground, a dagger at his throat. The cold blade bit sharply into Scarab's skin, but he did not struggle against his attacker. As Rathera's eyes adjusted to the dim light and she recognized who she held beneath her, she let the dagger slip numbly from her fingers and buried her face into Scarab's chest. Scarab could hear her speaking, but her words were so muffled he couldn't understand them.
Sitting up, Scarab wrapped his arms around Rathera and began rocking her back and forth until she was calm. Once she had composed herself, Scarab began questioning her. "What happened in here? Who did this? What did they want? You aren't hurt, are you?" The questions flew at her quickly, each one loaded with Scarab's anxiety.
With a soft weary laugh, Rathera placed a finger on Scarab's lips to silence him. "No," Rathera began, choosing start with the question that obviously caused Scarab the most worry. "I'm not hurt. I just found out something today; something which upset me greatly. I'm the cause of this mess."
A quick shudder passed through Scarab. 'She couldn't possibly know,' he told himself. Still, what else could be the cause of that haunted look in her eyes? Scarab felt that she had to have found out somehow. "Look, Rathera," he began. "I can explain. I should have told you a long time ago but..."
Rathera cocked her head from side to side, looking absolutely bewildered. "You knew I was pregnant?" she interrupted. Scarab pulled away slightly with a sharp intake of breath, and Rathera began silently cursing herself for speaking up. His reaction told her plainly enough that he hadn't known, and that he had been about to say something else. 'Was it going to be what he wouldn't tell me this morning?' she wondered briefly.
Staring at Rathera in wonderment, Scarab put all thoughts of what this news could bring about from his mind. He placed a hand over Rathera's stomach carefully as though she were a creation of spun glass that would shatter at the slightest touch. "I'm going to be a father?" Rathera nodded expectantly, hoping desperately that the next thing he asked would be for her to marry him. Scarab said nothing though as he stroked her abdomen, imagining that he could almost feel the baby's heartbeat. Now, Scarab knew he could never tell Rathera the secret that burned within him, and, with a sigh, he whispered, "No one can know."
Rathera stared at her lover, sadness gripping her heart at his words. Scarab had made his decision so quickly, and soon the whole court would know her disgrace. She stifled a sob as she thought of the courtiers and other palace folk gossiping behind her back about her fatherless child, with Scarab watching on and saying nothing to preserve his own dignity. "Please, Scarab, no! You can't leave me! You can't!" she wailed, striking weakly at him with her fists.
With astonishing speed, Scarab grabbed Rathera's arms, forcing them to her sides so harshly that it was all Rathera could do to keep from crying out. "For once in your life just listen to me," he hissed between clenched teeth. "I have no intention of leaving you. But I have plans, Rathera; big plans which a child will only hinder. I know you want me to marry you, but I just can't. Now is not the time."
Experiencing a strange sensation of dejá vu, Rathera found herself asking, "And when will be the time?" This time, though, there was no joking when Scarab answered, "When I become pharaoh." Rathera shook her head, not able to believe what she was hearing. Amenhotep was far from being ill, and Rapses, though extremely young at the tender age of four, couldn't be in better health. The only way Scarab could hope to rule was if something happened to both the current pharaoh and his son, and it was doubtful anything would happen unless... Rathera's eyes widened. 'Unless someone killed them.'
Rathera slid back away from Scarab, scraping her hands on the cold floor. Filled with the horror of what she felt her lover was contemplating, Rathera couldn't take her eyes off of Scarab. Neither did she trust herself to speak. This strange, silent tableau might easily have lasted an eternity if, from Scarab's living quarters, Rhett had not called out, "Lord Scarab, the Pharaoh requires your presence at his table."
Slowly, Scarab rose to his feet. "Please, Rathera, wait for me to return. We have much to discuss." Leaning over, he brushed his lips lightly against her forehead. Then, pausing only long enough to dip his fingers into a basin of scented water and flick the droplets on his face, Scarab left to follow Rhett to the supper.
Rhett kept a careful eye on his master as they made their way to the dining hall. Surely Rathera had given Scarab the news, yet the vizier appeared no different than he had on any other night. Rhett shook his head with a frown. Even though he had no proof, Rhett sensed that something was definitely amiss.
Rhett stopped at the huge double doors inlaid with gold and knelt down until his forehead touched the floor. Scarab casually strolled past without even giving his servant a backwards glance, and, when the doors were shut, Rhett stood once again. Sighing, Rhett began the walk to the servant's kitchen.
Even though he knew he had no place at Amenhotep's table, Rhett longed to know, just once, what it was like to be served instead of serving, the weight of opulent jewels, the taste of rich food. But Rhett was a slave, bound only to his master's wishes. Those dreams he harbored meant nothing.
'And what of love?' Rhett asked himself. His sort of love was considered unnatural, and therefore he kept it hidden, even from the very object of his affections. The very thought of Armon sharing Rhett's feelings was absurd beyond belief. Ra knew the burly soldier had his pick of women to choose from. They flocked around him like birds to bread crumbs.
Rounding the corner, Rhett very nearly collided with the very man that occupied his thoughts most often. Armon's hand shot out and caught Rhett's shoulder in it's strong grip to keep him from falling. "Careful there," he cautioned with a smile. Trembling, Rhett stuttered, "M-my humblest-t ap-apologies." Then, with a quick burst of speed, he dashed around the corner and out of sight.
"Breathe, breathe," Rhett muttered to himself, leaning against the wall. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, still filled with giddy excitement. Armon had smiled at him, the lowly servant no one else even bothered to pay attention to. All thoughts of Scarab, Rathera, and babies melted from Rhett's mind.
Rathera once again found herself alone again. No, not quite alone. Scarab had left Heka behind to keep her company. The snake was not Rathera's first choice for a companion, but not her last either. Heka waited patiently for Rathera to initiate a conversation, but when the guardian kept silent, took the burden upon herself. "What are your plans for the child?"
Rathera winced, knowing that Heka had asked the one question that had been going through her mind all day, and she still had no answer. Scarab had made it quite plain that he wasn't going to acknowledge the child as his own, at least not until he became pharaoh. She shook her head at such a ridiculous notion, now almost certain that he had been joking.
But the child? What was she going to do about it? She still had time before it became noticeable. Hopefully she could think of something before then, maybe even convince Scarab to marry her after all. Suddenly realizing that Heka was still waiting for an answer, Rathera decided that in this case the truth wouldn't hurt. "I have no idea, Heka. No idea at all."
Confusion flooded Rathera as she stared at the flickering candle flame. He had said that he wasn't going to leave her, but he had also said that no one could know. Which was she to believe? Heka offered no answers, merely nodding her head as though she had known all along what Rathera's answer would be. The cobra slithered over to Rathera, her scales gleaming slightly in the dim light, and the mage took her up as she had seen Scarab do many times.
Holding Heka straight, Rathera pulled herself up off the floor and went into Scarab's main quarters. She found Rhett had been thoughtful enough to lay out some supper for her. It was simple enough fare; a variety of fruits, some bread, strips of dried meat, and a sweet wine. Yet the sight was enough to make Rathera's mouth water as she realized she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. She quickly tore into the bread, devouring every last crumb, and was about to start on the fruit when she began to wonder whether or not Heka needed to eat anything.
In all the time since Scarab had received Heka as a gift from one of his old teachers, an ageless man known to the court as Nefray-ou, Rathera had never seen Heka eat anything, but that didn't mean, of course, that the snake didn't eat. Hesitantly, Rathera offered a fig to Heka. The snake merely laughed and shook her hooded head. "My appetites run along the same lines as the appetites of other cobras," she explained, a slight wistfulness in her voice both piquing Rathera's curiosity and at the same time brooking no questions. Setting the fig down, Rathera started handing Heka the strips of jerky which the cobra took gratefully.
Both guardian and cobra ate in an uncomfortable silence. Neither knew what to say to the other, so each gave over to their own thoughts. Rathera began considering her future. Maybe she could leave the palace, and go someplace where she wasn't known. She could tell people that her husband had died in an accident, leaving her to raise their child alone. No one need know that she had never been married. But that meant leaving Scarab, an option she refused to accept.
Scarab entered the dining hall at a slow, steady pace which befitted his station. He carefully kept his face a blank mask when he saw Amenhotep glance sharply at him. Scarab silently took his seat at the pharaoh's table and began looking around, taking note of the guests for the first time.
The current Captain of the Hunt, a loud and boorish man in desperate need of a bath, sat directly across from Scarab. The captain's small, piggish eyes glittered as he finished telling his two companions about a lewd and probably entirely fictitious adventure involving one of the serving wenches. The captain finished his tale by bursting into ribald laughter.
Scarab shuddered and turned his attention from the captain to the captain's companions, looking almost relieved that neither of the men shared in the captain's merriment. There seemed to be nothing special about them, and Scarab couldn't figure out why they were sitting at the pharaoh's table. A cursory glance was all it took to tell that they were related, brothers most likely. Both men were of medium build, with the exact same square jaw. Both also wore the gold bands on their upper arms that showed they belonged to the pharaoh's hunters. The older let his dark hair hang loose about his shoulders, while the younger wore a gold helmet ornamented with blue trim.
Amenhotep's soft voice intruded on Scarab's thoughts. "So good of you to join us, Lord Vizier." Scarab winced at the gentle rebuke, knowing that once he and Amenhotep were alone, the scolding would not be quite so gentle. "Had you been here at the appointed time," Amenhotep continued, "Then you would have joined me in congratulating the latest man to come through the Challenge of the Maze. Lord Scarab, I would like to present to you the hunter Ja-Kal, my son's newest guardian." The helmeted man inclined his head politely, and Scarab returned the gesture.
The older brother scowled as Amenhotep turned to speak with one of his generals about the latest Nubian uprising. Sensing the cause of his brother's anger, Ja-Kal motioned for Scarab's attention with a quick fluttering gesture of his hand. "Forgive my boldness, Lord Scarab, but I would like you to meet my brother Arakh. He also took up the Challenge of the Maze today." The words but failed hung ominously in the air between the three men.
Scarab nodded courteously to Arakh, taking note of the bitter resentment on his face. 'That one,' the vizier thought to himself, 'might prove useful one day.' Already, Scarab could see the sparks of hatred starting to ignite in Arakh. Scarab knew that look well, for it was the same one he had seen so long ago on his father's face before being cast away.
Brief snatches of the memory flashed through Scarab's mind. He had been a small child, always able to fit in places most would never think to look in the children's hiding games. If he had known what he was going to see on that day though, he would have chosen someplace else to hide. He never expected that his father would come into the stables, bringing a woman with him. Scarab had watched his father do things with the woman that his young mind was not prepared to understand. As his father had rolled off of the woman, a small squeak escaped from Scarab as he recognized her sweat-streaked face.
Scarab quickly pulled his mind away from the past to focus once more on Amenhotep's table. As a boy, Scarab had not fully understood the importance of what had happened there or how best to use that information. Experience had been a brutal teacher, but now, as a man, Scarab knew how to make use of even the tiniest scrap of information. Yes, one day Arakh's hatred would grow and overpower him. Scarab could see that much. And on that day, Arakh would become a fitting tool.
Turning, Scarab began studying the other diners, once again trying to take his mind off of Rathera's news. The young prince, Rapses, was causing his nursemaid difficulties again as she tried to get him to eat. Rapses, however, kept turning his little nose up at whatever she offered. Scowling furiously, Scarab cleared his throat softly to get the prince's attention. When Rapses looked over in Scarab's direction, he instantly sat up a bit straighter and began accepting the offered food. Scarab went back to eating, carefully trying to conceal a smile from the boy. The prince might not like him, but that was in part because Scarab had made it quite clear that he would brook no trouble from the boy. Secretly, Scarab dreaded the day when Rapses fully realized that he had power over everyone in the kingdom, even Scarab himself.
Rathera's plight once again intruded on Scarab's consciousness. He had no idea what he was going to do about it. He could never leave her, so tight a hold did she have over his heart. Yet if anyone found out that he was the baby's father a scandal would ensue, especially when considering the other facts that would come to light if he was discovered. Could they possibly hide the baby? It would be difficult. Scarab would have to find some way to get Rathera out of the palace before it became too obvious that she was pregnant.
"An ambassador to Nubia would probably be our best chance at restoring peace," Amenhotep was saying. The words tugged at Scarab's brain. Nubia was far away, so very far away. Distance meant safety, and no fears of discovery. Slowly, Scarab began to insinuate himself into Amenhotep's conversation, bringing up the tiny nuggets of information he had garnered about Nubia over the years: economy, climate, customs. Before he knew it, Amenhotep was giving him the orders he so longed to hear. "Scarab, I want you to go to Nubia. Take with you those people you feel will be necessary." With a slight smile, the Pharaoh added, "Without depopulating the palace of course."
It was all Scarab could do to keep from leaping out of his chair and embracing his Pharaoh. What Amenhotep most likely thought of as a prudent move and possible punishment for Scarab's tardiness, the vizier knew to be the much-needed escape. Now he would be safe from discovery. Already, Scarab was planning the lies necessary to explain Rathera's condition to the Nubian officials.
As soon as the meal ended, Scarab hastened from the dining hall back
to his chambers. Much to Scarab's surprise, Rathera had fallen asleep again,
this time at the table, her head pillowed on her arms. Heka lay curled
up in Rathera's lap. Knowing what a tiring day she'd had, Scarab almost
hated to wake her. Silently, he went to his sleeping quarters and brought
out a blanket which he draped across Rathera's shoulders. She never once
stirred. 'Tomorrow,' Scarab thought. 'I'll tell her tomorrow.'