XVIII. This Cold Rain

Cold rain.

It sheeted from the sky and hissed into the river, water meeting water with claws and teeth bared. The physician had instructed Cassandra to stay indoors during the rains, but there was not much room in the small cabin on the royal barge. Besides, the rain suited her mood.

Her engorged belly quivered visibly as fists and feet pummeled inside, as though protesting the rain. I hate you, she thought at the tiny being inside. Her clothes and hair were plastered to her skin.

Peasants lined the banks of the river, eager to catch a glimpse of their future queen, even if it meant standing exposed to the winter rain. Men, women, and children waved and smiled, bowed and sang hymns. Cassandra stared back, feeling hollow despite the life growing inside her. The faces blurred one into another until there were no faces left, only strange, clay-formed mockeries of human beings.

How many of these had fled Memnon's campaign of terror? How many more had followed after Mathayus began to go mad?

"Those little children and their mothers should not be out in this cold rain," Ahawetsebwet said beside her. Cassandra prickled at the sweet-voiced rebuke.

"And the king's great wife should?"

One perfect black eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly. "I am not his wife yet."

"I'll go inside if you will, my lady." How strange that felt, to call someone else 'my lady,' instead of being called that herself. Cassandra thought she would be used to it very soon.

"It rains so rarely in Egypt. Let us enjoy it while it lasts, sister."

I will never be your sister. Another kick punctuated that savage thought.

The two women--one no longer a king's consort, the other soon to be--waited out the remainder of the downpour as the Nile's current bore the barge inexorably north. At sunset, the rain clouds finally melted away. The golden disk slid down into the mouth of the horizon; the sky turned a deep crimson, staining the river with its reflection.

Blood in the water. Only now that the rain had stopped did Cassandra's wet-streaked skin break out in chills. Blood from the sky.

Blinking rapidly, the sorceress swallowed her echoed premonition. "What do you think Ineb-Hedj will be like?"

A smile bloomed on Ahawetsebwet's face. "Once the prince and I are wed and he wears the Red and White Crowns of the two lands, the name of the city will be changed in his honor. I am told his mortuary temple is already quite grand, though of course unfinished."

"He will need it soon." The princess stared at her, and Cassandra realized she had spoken aloud. "I--"

"The son of Horus will not, I think, have need of a sorceress' visions. But do not fear for your future. I will ensure you a place in his household. Perhaps you will even serve as my wet nurse."

Cassandra retreated to her cabin, and knew it for a retreat--knew as well that Ahawetsebwet would see it, too. Curling up on the bed, she wrapped herself in a thick blanket and wished desperately for Mathayus.

The last thing she wanted to do was let the princess see her tears, so she faced the wall and was very carefully quiet as the bedding beneath her grew wet with her sorrow. After a while, she slept.

Waking early in the morning, Cassandra found herself suddenly anxious for no reason she could pin down. She listened with more than her ears, looked with more than her eyes, but no arcane knowledge made itself apparent. Finally she rose, dressed, and left the questionable comfort of her cabin, only to discover Ahawetsebwet already posted at the prow.

"Look," the princess whispered as Cassandra walked up beside her.

The curling mist the barge slipped through smothered noise as well as sight; an ibis ghosted into view, only to take flight silently. Cassandra could feel, but not hear, the reeds slapping against the keel through the hush.

Then, as though responding to her thoughts, the royal barge cleared the blanketing fog. The chirping of both birds and frogs seeped through the evaporating silence; soon, Cassandra could even hear voices singing a rhythmic chant common to laborers.

They rounded a slow bend in the great river. The reeds began to clear away, revealing a looming vision of golden pillars, artisans singing as they painted hieroglyphic designs on them, and a horde of women and children waiting to shower them with flowers and gold.

Ineb-Hedj has arrived, Cassandra thought, mystified as to why she'd thought something so strange.

Ahawetsebwet, of course, went ashore first, after the boatmen had secured the barge to the pier. The children surrounded her, the women placing golden links and flowered pectorals around her neck. Cassandra wondered how many of the women were the prince's lesser wives, how many of the children were his own, or merely charming decoration.

Then she saw him, and she knew that none of the children could be his; they were all too old for this boy--young man--this prince who could not possibly be here.

Cassandra finally tore her eyes away from the long, ragged scar on his chest. They lit briefly on Ahawetsebwet as she took the prince's hand in her own and smiled at him, then they came to rest on the prince's hollow, sun-darkened face.

There was little of the mischief she remembered left in his eyes.

"Menes?"

"Lady mother."

She saw Menes lying in a pool of his own blood, a look of shock etched on his boyishly handsome face. She saw him seated on a throne, a young woman of striking beauty at his side.

Cassandra suddenly found sitting herself on the ground, her legs useless beneath her. The heat of the sun bore down on her head and shoulders; one of the smaller children began crying. "But..." she murmured. "Why didn't you come home?"

Menes frowned down at the sorceress. "Because I was dead."

The winter rain began again then, as cold as it had been for the entirety of the journey.