A/N: These do seem to arrive like glaciers, don't they? Still, this is a long chapter, so hopefully it was worth waiting for. Feedback appreciated, everyone!
5. The Art of Running Away
The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed. - Carl Gustav Jung.
"Stop fidgeting. You'll draw attention to us."
"I can't help it. This thing itches!"
"That's because you're supposed to shave your head before wearing it."
"Really? But … huh?" Jono was too stunned to come up with a suitable response. "Your whole head?"
Where they came from it was unheard of for anyone to shave themselves the way Egyptians apparently did. Howli usually covered their hair anyway, and the light-coloured material of their outer robes and headgear reflected the sun's rays, so there was no need for elaborate shaving rituals. In fact it was considered unsightly not to have hair on your head. Men who had lived long enough to lose theirs wore their howlis all the time to keep from feeling self-conscious.
"Yes," said Téana.
"But that's …" This was only the latest thing to shock Jono since they entered the city. The big brave would-be warrior had been laid low by something as small as fashion.
"You're the one who said Egyptian ways aren't our ways, Jono," Téana pointed out.
"Yes, I know, but still … they shave their heads but put on fake hair afterwards? Why bother to go to all that trouble? It doesn't make any sense." He touched the straight black wig. He had twisted it half a dozen times to make it sit right over his own sandy hair. "This is real hair, not from an animal. You're telling me that someone shaved all this off and sewed it into this shape just so they could stick it back on their head? It doesn't make any sense."
Téana exchanged a look with Maibe, who rolled her eyes.
"Wigs are a sign of status," Téana informed him quietly. "We look and sound different enough with our clothes and accents. We have to blend in if we're going to stay here and go unnoticed."
"So if you don't want to be mistaken for a slave or something, just wear the wig and close your mouth," Maibe hissed.
"Even if it is uncomfortable." Téana resisted the urge to scratch her scalp until the heavy wig. "This is a good plan, Jono."
He remained unconvinced, but did as she said. It spoke volumes for the trust he placed in her word.
Téana couldn't let him down. She squared her shoulders and marched towards the marketplace. She refused to show fear after all they had gone through to get here, especially since Seren was right there listening. Seren needed them to be focussed, not indecisive. "We need to fit in if we're going to avoid detection."
"She's right, Jono," Maibe's tone was snappish, but she lightly touched Jono's arm before following Téana. She had been doing that a lot more lately. It was as if each contact was a rude gesture to the strict tribal rules governing how men and women had to act around each other. Maibe was relishing her new freedom. She kept declaring she wanted more from life than to be a wife or a mother, as if challenging them to contradict her. Her eyes flashed when she so bright that nobody saw fit to argue.
Jono sighed and stopped adjusting his wig. "Seren, are you all right?"
The smallest one among them nodded. Seren opened and shut her eyes like someone emerging from deep sleep, though she had been awake for hours. Seren had a habit of blinking a lot. Her eyes seemed to dry out more easily than most. She often had to squint to see things. Her eyesight faded a little more each day. Nobody talked about it while she was around, but she was intelligent enough to develop ways of compensating on her own.
To that end she had started carrying around a long, straight tree branch Jono had stripped and shaped for her. The wood wasn't treated, so she had to keep her hands wrapped in linen to prevent splinters, but it was strong. It served as a walking staff when she got tired and, by tapping the ground in front of her, she could also use it to tell whether she was about to walk into or trip over something. Téana wondered what the Elders would think of her. Would they still be so harsh if they saw her overcoming what they had written off as hopeless weaknesses?
Of course they would, she thought grimly. She remembered the conversation she had 'overheard' and shivered.
"It sounds like a big crowd," Seren said softly. She gripped her staff tighter until Maibe put a comforting hand on her arm.
"Don't worry. Téana knows what she's doing."
Téana wished she had as much faith in herself as Maibe did. Come to think of it, she wished she had as much faith as they all did. They all assumed she would somehow know what to do. It had, after all, been her idea to come to the city to hide from their pursuers.
Her gifts had gotten them this far. A Vision came to her last night of how to enter the city without making themselves too conspicuous as outsiders. She, Maibe and Seren all wore jewellery made of beads and precious stones. They had either made it or had it passed down through generations of their family. When they left the tribe they had brought what they could carry, knowing they might have to trade it away for food, water, or travel. They had chosen not to trade immediately because they were still too near the encampment. The jewellery would signpost them to their pursuers. Now, however, they had to make use of their limited resources.
Téana had traded a delicate necklace of red beads and a single polished stone. It had bought their wigs and fresh sets of reed sandals to replace the threadbare ones on their feet. Their long trek through the mountains had not been kind to their footwear, but they were too used to wearing sandals to go barefoot like a lot of Egyptians did. Their feet weren't callused enough to cope; plus, hidden scorpions and snakes were easy to step on in the wilderness if you weren't careful. They had all grown up with the story of how Elder Pegas once saved his young wife by throwing a sandal at a wildcat and breaking its neck.
Téana could do nothing about their clothes, but judging by the number of merchants wearing similar garments, that wouldn't be much of a problem. The women walking around in tunics that reached only to their knees did make Téana pause. She regarded her own floor-length robes. Should they invest in new clothes after all? The movement made the wig brush against the back of her exposed neck.
It felt odd not to be wearing her howli, but she would just have to get used to it if her plan was going to succeed. The object was to wait for the tribe to break camp, and for their three pursuers to stop chasing them and go back before the tribe moved on without them. It was a good plan, definitely doable, except for one thing – Jono, Maibe, Seren and Téana had to survive in a city they had barely visited before. The city brimmed with customs they didn't know and bristled with swords to punish those who broke the rules. They had to keep their heads down, not offend anyone and not draw attention until they could safely leave again.
They hadn't said as much, but Téana knew they were counting on her and her second sight to help them. They had come from a world where life was guided by seers and almost nobody questioned them. The claws of that way of thinking were dug deep. The pressure was intense. She didn't feel able to keep pointing out she was an apprentice who hadn't fully grown into her abilities yet. She looked around and came close to being overwhelmed at the size of the task before them.
It was ridiculous, but Téana felt like every set of eyes was on them. Everyone was judging them, knowing they had no right to be there. What was she supposed to do? They had no idea what they were doing.
"I'm hungry," Seren said eventually, as they leaned against a wall. Her knees were shaking from being on her feet so long and her hands tightened reflexively around her staff.
They watched the bustling crowds while wiping sweat from their eyes. People traded for everything here, but they were a canny bunch and would take any unsuspecting wretch for all they could get. They had nothing to sell or buy with, unless you counted their meagre jewellery or weapons – neither of which was going to happen. They needed to keep both for now. Jono carried his sword and spear openly, as he was accustomed to, but Téana, Maibe and Seren hid their protective knives in the folds of their clothes. They were hungry, footsore and frightened. Their first destination had to be somewhere to eat and rest while they took stock and assessed their next move.
"I am too," Maibe chipped in. "I could really go for some boiled mutton right now."
"Or salted beef," Jono agreed.
"Or dried dates."
"Or figs. I'd love some sweet figs."
Téana gritted her teeth. "You're not helping."
"Sorry, Téana," Seren apologised hastily. She was always so eager not to offend anyone. Téana supposed being told your whole life that you were useless made you receptive to any small kindness, and eager to ensure there were more of them. What she, Maibe and Jono done for her was anything but small, and so Seren constantly went out of her way to express her gratitude and make herself as unobtrusive as possible. Sometimes her unremitting politeness was painful, suggesting she thought that if she didn't keep it up they'd cast her out like the Elders planned to.
Téana sighed. It was impossible to be angry with Seren. "It's all right. I just need some … some time."
"We should get something to eat," Jono said needlessly. "Food always helps me think better."
"That's not a surprise," Téana snapped. She pulled herself up at shocked expression. It wasn't like her to snap – or it hadn't been before she turned her world upside down. Maybe this was a brand new Téana to go along with her brand new life. "Look, just stay here, all right? I think I saw a merchant selling bread on the other side of the market. I'll … I'll see what I can trade." She swallowed a dry throat. "Perhaps I can get some information too. We need a place to stay and we're not going to find one if we just wander around aimlessly."
"I'll come too," Maibe said, but Téana waved her away.
"No! No, I need some time to … think. To order my thoughts." Téana attempted to reassure them by adding, "It's a seer thing. Please, just stay where I know you are, look after our things and don't move until I get back." She tried to inject the same authority into her tone that Otog always used. When he made proclamations of Visions to the whole tribe, everyone listened to him.
Jono, Seren and Maibe nodded. Seren slid gratefully down the wall and sat cross-legged on the floor. As Téana walked away, Maibe and Jono joined his little sister. She could feel their eyes on her until she disappeared behind the first line of people.
They didn't mean to pressure her. She knew that. In the days since they fled the camp she had grown closer to Maibe, Jono and Seren than she ever had to anyone except Otog.
Otog was special. As the only other seer in the tribe, and the master to her apprentice, he and Téana shared a bond non-seers couldn't understand. He had taught her about her gifts, about herself, and about the world they lived in – but she had left all that behind. Regret kept jabbing her. She hoped that Otog, of all people, would understand why she had done what she had done. She hoped even more that he would forgive her. Despite her apprehensions and worries, she didn't regret leaving. That had to count for something, right?
Aside from Otog, Téana had never been closer to anyone than Jono, Maibe and Seren. Even her parents had been distant with her before they gave her to Otog. Jono, Maibe and Seren had allowed her a chance at freedom she would never have taken on her own. They had shared food with her, which nobody in the tribe had been brave enough to do since she came into her gifts. Being a seer was a double-edged sword: she was revered as a font of knowledge, respected and given status women weren't usually allowed, but people were scared of her and what she could tell them about themselves. It was a lonely life. Jon, Maibe and Seren were the first people in a long time to treat her like a regular human being. When she took her food and went to sit away from them, as she was used to doing, they had told her to stay. When she had apologised for being the reason Usi's band was chasing them, they had reassured her.
"For pity's sake, you're our friend, Téana," Maibe had said with exasperation.
"I am?"
"Sure." Jono had wiped his nose self-consciously and pretended to examine their surroundings so he didn't meet Téana's surprised gaze. Until then, she had thought she was only along for the ride because they needed her gifts. "You think anyone except friends would do something this stupid for each other?"
They were her friends. They relied on her skills just as she relied on theirs – their protection, their companionship and just the knowledge that their presence by her side was voluntary. As a result, Téana felt responsible for their well-being. She wanted them happy and safe. As the man, Jono was their protector, but Téana felt some of that burden on her own shoulders as well.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a shout. She turned to see a child in a white loincloth careening away from a red-faced man with a belly the size of a sand dune. The child's head was shaved except for a thin strip of black hair at the base of his skull, which flapped behind him as he ran.
"Stop! Thief!" the man yelled. "Get back here!" He huffed and wheezed, his face reddening even further. People moved aside for him, but nobody tried to catch the boy.
Suddenly the man froze. He clutched at his left arm and his entire body convulsed. He fell over without even trying to brace for impact, like a tree felled by a bolt of lightning. The ground didn't vibrate when he hit, but it felt like it should have.
Cries went up from the crowd. Téana found herself carried forward. She had to fight to keep herself from being crushed. Her badly fitting wig skewed sideways, allowing some of her own brown hair to show. She hastily fixed it and ducked low, scurrying along practically on her hands and knees, holding her robes up so she didn't trip over them. She kept one hand on the dagger strapped to her upper thigh, just in case, as she tried to avoid the jostling bodies and sharp elbows.
She was so busy making sure she still had her meagre valuables and wig that she didn't realise she had brought herself out at the front of the crowd until she ducked under an arm and found herself staring into the florid face of the fat man.
He wasn't so red anymore. In fact, he was more purplish-blue. Téana froze, wanting to go back, but the bodies behind her slid shut on any gaps. They pressed further forward, as if eager to watch the man die. Nobody was trying to help him. There was no sign of the thief boy, either.
Téana stared at the man. His lips were violet. His breath came in tiny, ragged gasps. His eyes were shut and the sweat rolling down his face had soaked the dirt around his head. His wig had fallen off, revealing a bald head beaded with perspiration. He looked like a disgusting, overheated giant baby.
Something knotted in her stomach. Repulsion? Fear? Stranger or not, she couldn't watch him die in the dirt like this.
The entire world seemed to fade away around her. Like the breaking of a wave, her body flooded with curious energy. Without knowing quite what she was dong, Téana fell to her knees beside the man and made a fist with her right hand. Holding her arm steady by gripping her right wrist in her left hand, she raised both arms above her head and thumped the fist down as hard as she could, right in the centre of the fat man's chest. His body convulsed. She raised her arms and did it again, and then again, heedless of anything around her.
On the fourth hit, the man's eyes flew open. He let out a whoosh of air as powerful as a sandstorm in the open desert. Flecks of saliva spattered Téana's face and she experienced the full force of his horrible breath – like goat meat left out in the sun too long. His gasps deepened and his chest inflated. A more natural colour returned to his cheeks. He lay there, panting and still sweating, but alive. Téana gratefully let go of her own wrist and wiped her brow with the back of it.
She froze, realising what she had just done. So much for keeping a low profile. She scrambled to her feet, forcing her way through the crowd with elbows like sharpened spears.
"Hey, wait," people as she passed by. "Stop! Come back!"
She ran as fast as she could, unmindful of anything except a need to get away from the spectacle she'd just made of herself and put distance between herself and questions she didn't want to answer. True, she'd just saved a man's life, but at what cost to her own safety and anonymity – and that of her friends? And where had the knowledge of what to do come from? It was as though her body had been acting without her. Certainly it had acted without her consent.
This must be one of the things Otog meant when he said a seer's gifts aren't just for looking into the future.
Téana cursed herself and kept on running, breaking through the other side of the crowd. She dashed down an alley between two square, flat-roofed buildings before anyone could follow. She couldn't use her second sight when it mattered, but she could use it to save someone she didn't even know? Or rather her powerscould use heras they pleasedand make her risk so much for so little. The unfairness made her eyes burn with tears.
Maybe it was her blurred vision, or her breakneck pace, or the unfamiliar alley, but she didn't see the other person until she collided with him. Téana fell backwards, scraping her elbow down the wall and leaving a bloody smear. She fell on her backside and stared in alarm, holding her cut.
Even better, she thought bitterly. This is probably some nobleman who will have me carted away to be beheaded for daring to touch him. She got to her feet, intending to run back the way she had come, but the other person groaned. She froze, undecided. Had she hurt him?
"A-Are you all right?"
The figure got up. The masses of swirling robes made Téana doubt her assumption she had crashed into a man. Didn't only women wear so many layers? The person even had a hood pulled so high she couldn't make out a face.
"Do you make a habit of wrestling people to the ground for their purses and then not finishing the job?" The voice was indeed male, and derisive.
"Wh-What?" she stuttered.
"Is it not customary for your knife to be in your hand at this point?"
She looked down to where he gestured. Her outer robe had fallen back, revealing the protection knife strapped to her thigh. Thoughts clicked together in her mind. This person thought she was a common thief?
"That's only for protection! I wasn't trying to rob you, um, good sir." She bowed her head a little. A curtain of black hair eased forward either side of her face, framing her vision. Hopefully it would also make her unidentifiable if he tried to recall her later. "I wouldn't. I was just, um, in a hurry. I didn't mean to crash into you. It was an accident –"
"Indeed." His disbelief was palpable. There was something haughty about his tone, like the refined voices of scribes her tribe had dealt with when bringing wares to trade in the city. There were so many rules here and scribes always acted like you were an idiot if you didn't know the ins and outs of every single one.
Téana raised her eyes but kept her face lowered, trying to see the face under the hood. He sounded like an educated person, but she could see no wisp of wig. Maybe he was just an apprentice or something, or an errand boy from a rich household. That would explain why he was in a deserted alley instead of crossing the main thoroughfare.
"I believe you," he said. "No thief would be so inept as to stay with her victim and ask after his welfare."
Téana bristled. Excuse me for having a conscience.
"Besides which, it doesn't seem to have occurred to you that I could also be concealing a weapon. You are very trusting, very stupid, or very new to the city. I would say that you are new here, but hesitate to dismiss the other two options just yet."
Her hackles had risen, but went down his words. She tried to remember the proper way to address someone above your station. Even if he was an errand boy, maybe he would be so flattered by her deference he would let her leave. "I believe you are mistaken, good sir -"
"No, I am not." One hand rose and gestured at the outside of his hood. "Your real hair is showing."
Téana's hands went to her head. Her wig had been knocked completely sideways and a swathe of brown hair had tumbled from underneath. Her mind filled with all the curses she'd picked up from Jono.
"Not all wealthy people in this city wear wigs, but those who do have no need of hair. To wear both hair and wig strikes me as very greedy." The person altered his stance slightly, sliding his weight onto the balls of his feet the way Téana had seen Jono do when he thought they were about to be attacked. "Or very stupid. Who are you?"
"Nobody of any importance."
"That is not an answer. Who are you? What is your name?"
No, no, no, no… It was all going wrong. Téana took a step backwards. "I'm no threat to you. Please, just let me go."
"That I cannot allow. You are a foreigner, yet you try to masquerade as an Egyptian noblewoman – badly, I might add. What possible reason could there be for this except ill will? Are you an assassin? Have you come to do mischief here?"
"An … what? I mean, excuse me?" The idea was so ridiculous she nearly snorted out loud. "Of course I'm not! I'm nobody. I only want to go on my way without bothering anyone." She took another step away.
"This city is a hotbed at the moment. The new Pharaoh's crowning ceremony grows closer by the day. Could it be you have been sent to impersonate a woman of noble birth so you can grow closer to him in turn, only to murder him? Although I have to say, your skills of subterfuge are terrible."
"I'm not an assassin!" Téana protested.
"So you say."
"I'm really not! I'm … a traveller." An idea occurred to her. "I came here to trade. I have jewellery, made by women in my tribe -"
"You're a nomad?"
Damn. If she tried to lie too much she would only make herself more suspicious. "Yes. I came into the city to trade, nothing more."
"You have very few wares for a trader."
"I ... left them with my, um, fellow-traders."
"A trader who abandons her wares?"
"I went looking for food and got caught up in a crowd. I was trying to find my way back to my companions when I bumped into you – which was a complete accident, by the way!"
"You speak with such common parlance," the stranger said contemptuously.
And you talk like a stuck-up camel-humper, Téana thought back, but didn't dare to say. She wondered what 'parlance' meant, but could work it out from the context.
"You must be very eager to return to your companions, to be running at such a speed."
She nodded. "I am."
"Or perhaps you are actually running away from some mischief you have yourself committed." Quicker than she could follow, he shot forward. Her back rammed against the wall and she felt the cold edge of a knife at her throat. "Who are you really? And please save your lies. You have no breath to spare for them. Speak, or I shall silence you forever."
Panic arced from her stomach into her chest, making her breathing accelerate and her skin tingle. She had thought she knew what fear felt like before, but it was nothing compared to this kind of terror. "I-I …"
"Speak!" He pressed the knife closer.
"My name is Téana!" she squeaked. Her words came so fast they blurred together at the edges. "I'm a seer from a tribe of nomads who wander the wilderness! We do sometimes come down into cities to trade, and we've been here before with jewellery, but today I'm here because I've run away and I'm hiding from the men they've sent to recapture me. That's why I was trying to disguise myself, and why I need to get back to my friends. They're in danger too. I need to stay hidden until the tribe breaks camp and the men chasing me return to them. If I can stay out of their hands until then I'll be free to live my own life, however I see fit."
The knife did not let up. "And the reason you were running?"
"I saved the life of a man in the market. I didn't want anyone to be able to recognise me if the story gets around. There was a crowd."
The sharp edge pressed incrementally closer still.
"It's the truth! Please! I'm not lying! You have to believe me!"
"You don't want to be discovered, but you make a public display and then compound it by running away?"
"I wasn't thinking clearly. I'm only an apprentice seer! Sometimes my gifts do things on their own. Plus I … I couldn't just stand by and watch that man die. Nobody else was helping him, and suddenly I knew what to do …" She trailed off. "You still don't believe me, do you?"
He said nothing.
Téana screwed up her face. She had heard stories of what it was like to have your throat cut. You could survive if you were lucky and the cut wasn't too deep, but if the life-vein in your neck was slashed there was no hope. If you didn't die straight away, and didn't find help, you drowned in your own blood. Please, just let it be quick. I'm sorry, Jono, Maibe, Seren –
"I believe you." The pressure against her throat vanished.
Téana slumped to the floor, shaking. "Y-You … do?"
"I do." The stranger re-sheathed his knife under his cloak and held out a hand to her. "Was your life with your people really so terrible?"
She stared at his open palm.
"There is no blade in it now. Staring will not make one appear."
"You seriously expect me to take your hand now?"
He bent his elbow, obviously looking at it, and then stretched out his arm again. "I do. It is a perfectly good hand. It has helped many people to their feet."
"And how many of them did you nearly just murder?"
He paused. "Apparently my blade loosened your tongue more than I intended."
Using the wall for support, Téana got up on her own. She kept her distance, watching warily in case he tried to pull that knife again. And who was to say it was his only one? Could she beat him by drawing hers and using it first? "I don't usually trust people who make me bleed." She brushed a palm against her throat, swiping away the thin trickle of red there.
"My apologies. My hand was evidently not as steady as I assumed. I did not intend to cause actually harm."
"You could've fooled me."
He paused, as if processing her words. Then he laughed. He actually laughed.
"So you don't think I'm an assassin anymore?" Téana tried.
"I reserve judgment on that; but I believe you when you say you are running away." He dropped his hand to his side, but she saw it was clenched into a loose fist. "I know a little about running away."
"You're not a, uh, nomad." It felt so odd, using that word. It wasn't one her people used on themselves.
"No, I am not."
"You sound like someone from a noble's household, but your cloak is old."
"It is?"
"It looks like it's been passed down a few generations and worn in some heavy storms."
"When storms strike the city, we shelter indoors to preserve our clothes and our lives."
"Lucky you."
"You are a strange one," he said, tipping his head to one side. A sliver of chin came into view below his hood, but disappeared when he righted his head. "You talk like you have no respect, but I do not think you are trying to be purposely disrespectful. It is …"
Annoying? Off-putting? Punishable? Insolent?
"Refreshing," he finally settled on, and in a quite different tone than before. He sounded almost … wistful?
She couldn't explain it, but Téana suddenly and unexpectedly felt sorry for this person. She didn't know his name, his circumstances, or even what his face looked like, but there was something so sad about him that it seemed to shroud his entire body like mist.
She gave a small, sharp intake of breath when she realised she really could see mist around him. It floated without touching, but didn't go away even when he moved. He didn't seem to notice it, which meant this was her second sight telling her things her mortal eyes could not. A scrap of mist floated towards her. It touched her cheek, igniting a flash of deep unhappiness and anger at some unknown injustice. She heard the keening wail of mourners, people stamping their feet in grief, and sensed that in this person's soul was a gaping wound where someone precious used to be.
"You're … oh!" she stammered. "I'm sorry."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm so sorry for your loss."
He stiffened. "What do you know of it?" His voice turned harsh and accusing again.
"Only what I can sense. You're sad. And you're also angry. Someone has left you – or maybe you're angry about how they left you." Téana pressed the fingertips of one hand against her forehead. "It's … very unclear and hard to explain, but your emotions … I can taste them …" She became conscious of what she was saying. "I'm sorry; that sounds really weird."
"Weird?" he echoed the word like he didn't know it.
"Odd. Strange. I didn't mean to be rude. It's none of my business. You've been, um, merciful in letting me live and I'm grateful, uh, good sir. May the Great Spirits bless you and your children's children."
"Great Spirits?"
Oh, yes, they believed in different things here, didn't they? Téana had grown up knowing the Great Spirits watched over the world they'd created, sometimes interfering with the lives of humans and bestowing gifts to a special few – like her second sight. People from outside the tribe believed in gods and goddesses, with an elaborate religion built up around them. Otog had tried to teach her about it, but she hadn't really paid attention.
Once more the enormity of fitting in here threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn't possibly learn all there was to know without having more knives pressed against her throat, and next time the outcome might not be so lucky.
"Um, it's … never mind. It's a compliment."
"I see." The stranger's tone was still haughty, but there was also an edge of curiosity to it. "I have never before met anyone from one of the nomad tribes."
"Well I've never talked to an Egyptian like this before, so I suppose that makes us even."
"Not many people would speak to me in such a bold manner."
"They wouldn't?" Damn it, he was some kind of noble.
"Though sometimes I wish they would. My friends speak to me the way you do. Come, walk with me."
"Excuse me?"
"Are you deaf? I told you to walk with me. I wish to know more about your tribe and the life of a nomad."
"B-But -"
"Have you somewhere else you urgently need to be? Your companions can endure for a short while without you. You will return to them unharmed."
Téana thought about Seren, Maibe and Jono. She should get back to them.
"And perhaps, if you wish it, I could inform you of some ways in which to pass less noticeably during your stay here."
Then again …
"So how much do you know of the city?"
"Very little. I didn't even know the old king had died until I got here and heard people talking about it. I've only been here once, as a child, before my gifts manifested. Seers are too precious to allow out of camp." Téana studied the ground. "It's … quite a sheltered existence. There are a lot of rules about what you can and can't do – more can'ts than cans. It was very stifling. Sometimes I felt like I couldn't sit down without getting permission first."
"As is always the way with those who hold positions of responsibility. Theirs is a heavy burden, and it is the duty of those around them to ensure they can shoulder it without it crushing them."
"Even those who never asked for it," she muttered. She had thought her voice too low for him to hear, but apparently he did.
"Especially those who have responsibility thrust upon them." He paused and dropped his own voice. "Even those who would wish to run away from what is asked of them but know they cannot."
Was that another insult? It was far subtler than any he'd paid her since they met, so she couldn't be sure. "Excuse me, but we've been walking for a while now."
"Are you tired? I thought all nomads had legs as tireless as nature itself."
"Not really. We're just as human as you."
"Hmm, maybe not as I."
Arrogant –
"The new pharaoh talks of a society without social boundaries, in which nobles and commoners rub shoulders as equals. I had not thought to include Egyptians and nomads in that."
"It sounds like a lovely dream."
"You think he cannot achieve it?"
"I'm not sure anyone could. It'd be a mammoth task for the Great Spirits themselves, much less one man. People are people. They'll always hate and fear and distrust each other, and if they don't have good reasons to do it, they'll invent some. When they give in to their own dark desires and impulses, they can do awful things. Everybody has the potential to go bad."
"You have little faith in humanity."
"I have plenty of faith; I just know humanity's limitations. People can't help being people, and people will always have a little bit of darkness in their hearts – even the nicest ones."
"But how could you know … oh, yes, you are a seer. You have probably Seen into hundreds of hearts and observed darkness in all of them."
"No, my gifts don't work like that, but I know enough about people to know everybody's the same in that way. Weren't you the one who said the new pharaoh wants a world where everybody's the same? Well, they are when you're talking about their hearts." Téana paused for a second. "But it does work both ways. Just as everyone has some darkness inside them, everybody also has some light as well. Even the most vicious criminal may have some speck of light in his soul – he might be a loving father to his children, or a dutiful son, or something like that. I'm not saying people are all good or all bad. They do good things for bad reasons and bad things for good reasons, they don't like what they don't understand, everyone likes to feel they're better than at least one other person, and no single man can change all of that."
"But the Pharaoh is the gods' avatar on earth. He has the might of the pantheon behind him."
"Pan-theee-on?" Téana struggled with the unfamiliar word, just as he had struggled with 'weird'.
"All the gods together are a pantheon, and the Pharaoh has their combined might behind him. His fist is the fist of Ra. His breath is the breath of Thoth. His command is the command of Anubis. If anyone can change the world, surely he can once he ascends to the throne." There was a strange, almost pleading note buried in his tone that Téana couldn't understand.
"If he wants to try then I wish him all the best, but I still don't think it'll work."
"Such insolence! You insult our new king!"
Téana froze. Had she really? She went back over her words and realised that she probably had, but when she tried to apologise he waved away her words with the flick of his hand.
"No, it is better you have an opinion than simply nod and agree with everything you hear. Even so, I will continue to disagree with your claim that his dreams for the world can never be. I have faith that one day everybody in his lands will be equal and treated as such."
"It's good to have faith," Téana said quietly. "Just as long as it doesn't blind you to the truth."
"Well said. You speak with much wisdom. Is this because you are a seer or because you are naturally wise?"
"Uh…"
"Certainly it cannot be because of your age." It didn't sound like something that needed a response, but Téana did anyway.
"Excuse me, but with all these weighty discussions, it feels odd to me that I still don't know who you are. You've insulted me more times than I can count, threatened my life, and I've offended you probably even more than that, but I still don't even know your name. Please, tell me, what should I call you?"
"You may call me Ammon, Téana the seer of the nomad tribe ... erm … it seems I have the same problem as you. What is the name of your tribe?"
Téana was nonplussed at the question. "We don't call ourselves by any name. We're just ourselves; our own tribe and our own people."
"But surely others call you by something? How else do you know you are not part of another tribe when they wander past?"
"People just know. You can't forget who and what you are, or who you've lived with all your life." She wracked her brains. "The other tribes called us Black Dragons, I think."
"A formidable name. All right; then you may call me Ammon, Téana the Seer of the Black Dragon Tribe." He halted.
Téana looked around. They were back where they had started. He had walked her in and out of the buildings with ease, until she was totally lost and had been forced to trust that he wasn't out to do her a mischief. Evidently her trust had not been misplaced. During their talk he had indeed furnished her with several tips on how to survive in the city without drawing attention to themselves – not that he knew he'd been helping her learn how to take care of Seren, Jono and Maibe as well. He thought she was travelling alone and she was content to let him think that. After all, despite trusting and liking this person – Ammon, she corrected herself – after spending time with him, how much did she actually know about him? Not enough to risk her friends' lives on his word that he wouldn't let something slip in a conversation once he'd left her – something that might get back to Usi, Hondo and Makalani if they tracked them to the city. Ammon had proved he liked to talk, and talk at length. Téana couldn't depend on his loose tongue not revealing that all four runaways were here.
"I have … enjoyed talking with you," Ammon said with a hint of surprise. "You make good conversation, for a barbarian."
"Is that really how you see nomads – as barbarians?"
"It is how most Egyptians see them, though after today I would like to revise my opinion – if only for their seers."
Téana's cheeks heated. She ducked her head, allowing a sweep of black hair to conceal her expression. What was that all about?
Ammon sighed. "As I said before, those with hair have no need of wigs. If you are going to stay in the city you must either cut off your own hair or stop wearing that ridiculous thing."
She blushed harder, this time with embarrassment. "I couldn't cut my hair. I may have left my tribe, but I can't simply abandon everything I know. It's part of who I am."
"Then it is lucky you have come to the city after the time when only slaves went without wigs. Your own hair will not betray you if you insist on keeping it – but only if you remove the wig. It is an eyesore."
Gingerly, Téana pulled the black hair forward, spitting out a little that went in her mouth. Her own hair wafted around her shoulders, dry at the bottom but damp on top with the heat and sweat of being confined. She smoothed it down. Ammon had kept the upper half of his face hidden the entire time, so she was shocked to find herself meeting his gaze when she looked back at him.
"The stories are not true, then," he said.
"What stories?"
"That barbarian nomad women are covered in hair like sheep's wool from their necks to their scalps."
"You mean you couldn't tell that before?" she said, affronted. Then she saw his smile and realised he was joking. It was a surprise, but a nice one – especially considering how he had acted around her the last time they stood on this spot. "We don't have horns or fangs, either."
"You have strange eyes," he said suddenly. "Blue. Why?"
"I was born with them." What a bizarre question.
"Very few people here are born with blue eyes. Those who are tend to be exceptional in some way."
"Um …" Téana looked at him. He had odd eyes himself – such a startling shade of violet that beneath the shadow of his hood they looked almost purple. They were rimmed with kohl, making them stand out even more.
"Hmm." He turned abruptly away from her, pulling his hood up further. His strange eyes disappeared. "I think I would like to talk with you again, Téana of the Black Dragons."
"Since I don't know where I'll be living, that might be a problem."
"You will find something. I can tell you are resourceful. You remind me of another girl I know, though I think you might be more sensible, and certainly you act more mature. Still, she is apt at finding inventive ways of getting herself out of whatever mess she gets herself into. You have the same kind of ingenuity, I think. Plus, you have your gifts to help you."
Téana suppressed a groan. Here was someone else who thought her gifts were the answer to all her problems. What would it take to make the world understand they didn't work that way? Relying on her gifts to overcome every single difficult in her life was like trying to use a spear to catch everything from mice to cows. The accuracy couldn't be maintained with such disparate targets. Too much or too little would only end in failure and an empty belly, and sometimes your throw went wide no matter how hard you tried to hit your mark. That was assuming your spear didn't break before you even started. Sometimes, when trying and failing to use her gifts consciously instead of just waiting for them to work on their own, Téana felt like she was grabbing for sunbeams.
She was so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she didn't hear Ammon speak until he turned around.
"Téana?"
"Huh? I mean, yes?"
He lifted his hood to meet her gaze again. His face was all sharp lines and angular features, but it was still his eyes which held her. "If I met with you again, would you speak with me as you did today?"
She swallowed and affected a light-hearted tone. "What, you mean offend you, your king, your country, your gods and your customs? Yes, I think I can manage that."
He smiled. It completely changed his face, turning it from severe to … Téana didn't know the right words to describe it. Even though she could only see from his eyebrows to his chin, she felt certain she would be able to recognise Ammon in a crowd, now even with his hood down.
"Then I shall look forward to it." With that he turned on his heel and marched away.
Téana watched him go, a curious feeling swirling inside her. She kept staring even after he turned the corner and disappeared from view. She stared until the backs of her eyes hurt and she had to shut them. They stung, watering slightly – but when she opened them again she didn't see the mouth of the alley or the blocky corner of the house.
A thin man sat on a low three-legged stool in a room, his face in his hands and his back bowed with despair. As Téana watched, he left the stool and went to kneel by a set of four pegs rammed into the floor. The pegs formed a crude rectangle, and between them lengths of thread were stretched. The man was turning them into cloth, but his hands were shaking and he kept releasing the threads before he wanted to. He tried to stop himself, but he couldn't. He was obviously too old for the work, but he laboured on, taking twice as long to finish his task. By the end his fingers were chafed and a thin line of blood ran down his left thumb. He sat back on his heels and looked around the empty room, sighing deeply and murmuring something Téana couldn't hear.
Her thoughts snapped back like a whip. Her head actually rocketed backwards, and she stared up at the sky while she waited for the dizziness to stop.
"Thank you," she murmured, not sure if she was addressing her inner eye, the Great Spirits, or something else. "I guess I should take my own advice and have more faith."
When she finally returned to the where she'd left Seren, Maibe and Jono she was greeted enthusiastically – and angrily. Seren was just glad she was all right, but Jono and Maibe were furious. She'd been away far too long and they'd been worried.
"We thought Usi and his crew might have gotten here before us and captured you!" Jono said in a thunderous whisper, eyes darting as if he expected them to burst out of the crowd at any moment.
"How could they have known this is where we were heading?" Téana asked reasonably.
"But where were you?" Maibe demanded. "We saw the commotion with the fat merchant, and people were talking about some strange girl who managed to heal him by hitting him." She eyeballed Téana. "But the girl ran away and nobody knew who she was, or where she'd gone. Do you know anything about this? Care to tell us your thoughts on who this mysterious saviour could be?" Sarcasm dripped from her words like honey.
"I think everything happens for a reason," Téana said cryptically. If she hadn't frightened herself by helping that man and run away from the scene, she never would have met Ammon. However, that would have to wait until later. For now, she tugged on Maibe's arm, signalling they should all follow her.
"Hey, how come you're not wearing your wig?" Jono demanded, scratching furiously at the nape of his neck where the black hair of his own kept tickling him.
"I'll explain later."
"What kind of answer is that? It was your idea to wear these damn things in the first place. Now you're parading around without one while the rest of us suffer? You may be a seer, Téana, but you're really pushing it –"
Téana looked around and led them with unerring accuracy along the streets and in between the houses, through alleys she'd travelled with Ammon but hadn't been able to navigate herself until now. "I had a Vision."
"You did?" Seren said breathlessly. "About what?"
"It was a Vision of how we're going to live in the city without sleeping on the streets." Téana stopped in front of a wooden door and knocked.
It was opened after a long time by a thin man with a line of blood trickling from his left thumb. Beyond him, Téana could see four pegs in the floor and a length of blood-stained cloth stretched between them. The man looked shocked to see them.
"Hello," she said, bowing slightly. "Is your name Hopki, the weaver?"
"I … yes." He blinked myopically at her. "Can I help you?"
Téana smiled. "I believe we can help each other with our problems."
Mana bounced from foot to foot, humming to herself and performing little pirouettes in time with a tune only she could hear. Every so often she would kick out one foot and raise her arms, letting out a tiny cry that would have sounded a lot better if there had been a lot of people doing the same thing. It was always ridiculous trying to dance on your own and provide your own accompaniment, but she'd found it was one of the best ways to distract herself from unpleasant thoughts.
"Mana."
She turned with a broad grin. "Mahaad!" She jumped off the low wall and even threw out her arms as if to hug him, but pulled up short at his expression. "You look grumpy. You have little lines bunching up the top of your nose and your forehead is all crinkly." She wagged her finger. "You shouldn't do that, you know. It makes you look older than Akhnadin."
Mahaad didn't acknowledge her advice, instead replying with a question. "Have you seen the Pharaoh?"
"Atem? Ah …" She rubbed the back of her head as if adjusting her headdress. "No?"
Mahaad sighed. "If you're going to lie, at least try to sound believable. Where is he this time?"
"He's not anywhere. I mean, he's somewhere, obviously, but he's not, um, anywhere he's not supposed to be." She smiled winsomely. "Which means he's probably somewhere completely legitimate that you have looked yet. You should go and check in the palace. He's probably there." She didn't go as far as shooing him away, but it was close.
Something metal clanked on top of her head. Mana froze. So did Mahaad.
"What was that noise?"
"Birds."
"Birds?"
"Yep." She couldn't risk nodding, but smiled even broader. "Pesky birds. Erm … hey, have you checked the throne room? Maybe he's trying out the Big Chair to see how comfy it is. Or maybe he's just walking around the gardens. He could be picking dates and figs as we speak, and you're here yapping at me. You should go and look. Seriously. You should check one of the gardens. On the other side of the grounds."
Mahaad heaved an even deeper sigh. "Is he in the library trying to look at those forbidden scrolls again? I've told him before that the seals won't open for anyone but me -"
"No, he's not there." That, at least, was the truth. Atem hadn't shown any inclination to go near Mahaad's library in weeks. He hadn't shown any inclination to do anything since his father died – he didn't want to read, didn't want to practise his fighting skills, didn't want to do anything except sit brooding or beg Mana to cover for him while he disappeared for parts unknown. Mana pasted on her brightest smile and suggested, "Why don't you try the kitchens?"
"Why would he be there?"
"You know how he is about creating his new world once he's crowned. He's probably encouraging the slaves to think about how they're not so different than the sacred court, or something."
Mahaad's stern face finally eased. He'd always had a soft spot for that particular foible of the prince's – or rather the Pharaoh's, Mana reminded herself. Though the crowning ceremony wasn't for another few days, everyone already referred to Atem as 'the new Pharaoh'. It was one of the reasons he kept ducking out of sight and getting her to pretend she didn't know where he was.
Speaking of which …
"Mahaad, could I please read one of the scrolls in your library? I promise I'll be careful, and I've been practising really, really hard lately. I'm sure I could perform one of those spells, no problem."
Mahaad went from indulgent to aghast. Then he coughed into his fist, trying to cover his lapse. "When you have fully mastered the basics you can begin thinking about more complicated magic, Mana, but I have yet to be certain you have control of the fundamental principles of magic."
She pouted. "I do so. I can do magic with one hand tied behind my back."
"That's exactly the kind of attitude I'm talking about. Magic isn't a game."
"I know that. I do! If you'd only let me prove it to you – wait, I know!" she snapped her fingers, muttered a string of words, and a flurry of wings heralded a flock of small birds landing on her shoulders and on her head. She giggled, twirling around without even one of them coming loose. "See?"
Mahaad wasn't convinced. "Now release them from your spell."
"Easy." She snapped her fingers. Then she snapped them again. She muttered another string of words and tried coupling the two actions together. Nothing worked. The little birds remained fastened to her, even when she tried to brush them off. Eventually she let out an impatient cry and uttered a crude dispelling charm designed to shatter enchantments rather than unravel them. Instead of the desired effect, it caused the little birds to panic. They flew into the air but turned immediately and started pecking her like she was trying to steal eggs from their nests. "Ow! Hey! Get off! Go away! Aaah!"
Mahaad's clear voice rang out. Within seconds the little birds had flown away, disoriented and wobbly, but free from Mana's magic. She rubbed the back of her head again, giggling nervously.
"Oops?"
"Now do you see why I don't trust you with the higher magics?"
"Aw, but that was just unlucky. I'm sure if I tried it again I could get it right this time -"
"Enough. I don't have time to spend gossiping with you. I have to find Atem. Akhnadin wishes to speak with him."
"I do not gossip! Old women gossip. I entertain. I enthral. I amuse."
"You talk too much and waste time. Why are you even outside? If that little display is anything to judge by, you should be indoors practising your basic enchantments."
Mana's pout nearly had her bottom lip dragging along the floor. Then she hid a giggle behind her hand. "Hey, Mahaad, you slipped up."
"Excuse me?"
"You called him 'Atem' instead of 'Pharaoh'."
Mahaad let out an exasperated noise and stalked away.
"Hey, don't worry about it!" Mana called after him. "You know he hates being called Pharaoh anyway. He'd appreciate you calling him Atem, like it's old times. Honest, he would!" She took her hands away from her mouth. "It's definitely better than half the things I'd like to call him right now."
"And what things would those be?"
She whirled around with a cry. "Aiiichah! For pity's sake, Atem, warn me before you do that!"
The figure crawling out from between the feet of the stone statue made no apology. He hopped off the plinth and eased back into place the slab he had pushed aside from the inside of the hidden tunnel there. There was a click, and with that anyone who didn't already know about the tunnel would never have been able to guess its existence. It was one of many hidden entrances and exits Atem and Mana knew about, since they had spent a good portion of their childhood searching for them and piecing together clues it find their location around the palace grounds. However, until recently they had never had a need to use them. The little prince and his friend could come and go practically as they pleased, and there were much more interesting things to do and see inside the palace grounds than outside them.
Mana tapped her foot. "So where did you go this time? Somewhere specific, or just wandering? I don't know why you can't do all this brooding here instead of out there. I'm giving up valuable study time to keep watch for you."
"You, study when you're actually supposed to be studying? Wanting to study instead of dancing around humming to yourself? The apocalypse must be nigh."
She pulled a face. "I study. Why does everybody think I don't?"
"Because you have been learning magic for years but you are still so bad at it?"
"Watch it. You may be royalty, but I can still – hey!" she cut herself off with surprise. "You're smiling. You're making jokes. Admittedly pretty bad jokes, but still, it's a start. You haven't teased me like that since …" She trailed off.
Since his father died.
Atem had removed his distinctive royal jewellery before donning a simple rough cloak and making his getaway this morning. Whenever Mana had asked in the past, he told her he went into the city like that to remind himself that a king should be humble, and never forget he is first and foremost an instrument of the people. He said he wanted to see Egypt the way everyone else did, without people bowing and scraping as he walked by. It was odd behaviour, but Atem had never been usual. Who else had ever dreamed of a world where nobles ate at the same table as slaves?
Personally, Mana reckoned he just wanted to get away from the palace and the constant reminders (and reasons) that he was no longer just a prince. Atem understood that his father had gone on to a better existence, but the pain of no longer having him around was like a continually bleeding wound. Atem was sad and angry that his father had left before he was ready to say goodbye, and though he didn't talk about it, Mana knew he worried he wouldn't be able to measure up to his father's achievements.
Akhenamkhanen had saved Egypt from war, famine and uncertainty. He would live long in people's hearts and memories, a cornerstone of their history. His son had enormous footsteps to walk in. the thought that he would live the rest of his life in his father's shadow sometimes overwhelmed Atem. Those were the times he came to Mana to tell her which exit he was going to use and ask her to help him. She would cluck and chivvy and chide, before standing guard to make sure he came back safely. She was all for creating a bit of mischief for entertainment, but under her smile she worried that one day Atem wouldn't come back.
Now, however, those worries seemed far away. Atem's smile was small but genuine and it didn't fade. He looked … Mana regarded him thoughtfully. For the first time in weeks, Atem looked happy. What in the name of Ra had happened out there?
Atem, however, gave nothing away. He passed her his cloak. She fumbled in her headband for his stupidly clanking earrings. He didn't yet wear the Millennium Puzzle – that would come with the crowning ceremony – for which she was glad. Even if she had been able to touch it, there was no way even she could have hidden something that big in her wild mane of hair.
"Mahaad is getting suspicious, you know."
"I know," said Atem.
"Doesn't that worry you?"
"Not especially."
"He's scary when he's angry. I mean really angry. Which he's going to be if he finds out you've been sneaking off playing peasant and risking the blade of every assassin in the city if you're discovered. Plus there are all the other priests to worry about if they find out." Mana shuddered. "I wouldn't want to have Priest Seto and Priest Kalim mad at me."
Atem paused. Then he did something totally unexpected. "I do appreciate you doing this for me, Mana. Thank you. I do not tell you often enough how much I value your friendship."
"I … what?" Mana was flummoxed. Where had that come from? "Er, you're welcome, I guess."
Atem nodded, briefly laid a hand on her shoulder as if to cement his words, and began climbing the stone steps up into the palace.
Mana remained where she was for a minute longer, frowning in thought, before chasing after him.
She caught up when Atem paused. Standing on the top step was Isis, one of the priests of the sacred court. Mana also halted. Isis was the only woman in the court. She held a great deal of power and respect. Her Millennium Necklace showed her visions of the future and everyone knew she was probably the wisest woman in the whole of Egypt. That and her iron will, which allowed her to use the Millennium Necklace without going mad, were the reasons she had advanced into Akhenamkhanen's service at a relatively young age and staved off anyone who would have taken her place.
She stared down at Atem and Mana. "My Pharaoh," she said by way of greeting.
Mana felt Atem stiffen slightly, but his reaction was much less acute than usual. "Isis. You have something you wish to speak to me about?"
Isis continued to stare at him, as though she knew she was going to go blind tomorrow and wanted to be able to remember every detail of his face. With her, it was entirely possible. Eventually she spoke again, but in a low voice Mana had never heard before. Isis sounded almost uncertain. For someone who could divine the future, that was a disturbing thought. "My Necklace, Pharaoh."
"It has showed you Visions?"
"No. Exactly the opposite. My inner eye has become clouded of late. I attempted to divine your location a short while ago and couldn't detect you."
"So you came looking for me."
She nodded. "This worries me, my Pharaoh. The Millennium Necklace has never faltered before. I cannot help but think that something approaches that is causing my Visions to be taken from me."
"'Something'?" Atem echoed. "Not 'someone'?"
"I am unsure which it could be, but I wished to warn you as soon as I could."
"Your sentiment is pleasing, as is your loyalty. You should speak to Priest Akhnadin about this matter. He knows far more about the Millennium Items than I do. Perhaps he can explain why your Necklace is not working as it should."
"May it please your majesty, but perhaps it would be prudent not to admit gaps in your knowledge of the sacred court out loud, since you are its leader now."
Atem really did freeze up this time. Mana groaned inwardly. The last thing he needed was to be reminded when he screwed up. Now his good mood would be straight in the dung-heap.
"Your counsel is received and acknowledged," Atem said tightly. "Good day, Priest Isis."
Isis frowned slightly at his dismissal, but bowed her head. "As you wish, my Pharaoh." She retreated and eventually Atem and Mana continued up the steps and into the palace.
"Well that was weird," Mana remarked when Isis was out of earshot. "She seemed pretty spooked."
"I'm sure she would appreciate your concern."
Mana stuck out her tongue. Then she smiled. Isis or not, it was nice to have a little of the old Atem back. Now if she could just keep this side of him at the forefront until the crowning ceremony, things would be just dandy. After the ceremony things would get better. Atem could begin building his new world order. That would make him happy. He had been dreaming about it since he sucked poison out of Mahaad's arm when they were children and declared them brothers. Yes, things would definitely get better after the crowning ceremony.
Without Isis's Millennium Necklace unable to warn them, there was no way Mana could know just how wrong she was.
To Be Continued …
Side-flings, Homages and Downright Rip-offs
Ammon is a genuine Egyptian name that means 'hidden', which seemed appropriate considering Atem is masking his true identity when he uses it. Hopki, however, is based on the name 'Hopkins', since the old man we meet here is the past-life version of Professor Hopkins.