and more feasting. I usually tried to excuse myself, to escape from these activities early. Tonight, however, I had a greater purpose.
I passed through the palace gate, under the mighty arch. The garden path led me to the palace entry, between two lines of palm trees and flaming torches. My gaze drifted upward to the palace walls. A woman watched me from where she sat on the deep ledge of a window.
The feast had already begun when I stepped into the Great Hall of Pillars. The room swarmed with nobles, officials, courtiers, and administrators, all jockeying for the best positions at the low stone tables that had been placed among the pillars. At the edges of the room, miniature replicas of the great pillars held alabaster lamps of burning oil atop their fluted capitals, bathing the painted walls in gold.
Rashidi’s words had struck deep, and although I could not walk away from the project, I also believed that ma’at would not be put right until I had found justice for Mentu. To this end, I planned to use my appearance at tonight’s festival to speak to the one man I believed could best handle the search for the killer.
Musicians lined the front of the hall, and I noted that the leading harpist in the kingdom had been engaged for the evening. His twenty-stringed harp was among the finest I had seen, and I felt a flicker of jealousy at the ornate column and neck. Music filled the Great Hall, mingling with the rising conversation and reverberating off the stone walls. The drinking had not yet begun and already the noise grated against my ears.
I searched the hall for the man I’d come to see. He would be easy to locate, the Nubian whom I had engaged to keep a watchful eye and a firm hand on the work site. Axum’s basalt-black skin and eyes as white and round as full moons were most intimidating, and even the bravest of the laborers could not stand up to the intensity of his gaze.
Slave girls came to anoint my head and adorn me with a necklace of lotus flowers. I allowed the anointing but could not be bothered by flowers. Across the room, Senosiris lifted a hand in greeting. His daughter stood at his side, watching the festivities with the wide eyes of one new to the pleasures of the privileged.
I spotted the Nubian, Axum, standing apart from the gaiety, at the back of the hall, his back braced against a mighty column.
“Axum!” My voice evaporated in the din. I started toward the Nubian, but a hand around my upper arm held me fast. Behind me, a slender woman pulled up close.
“I’ve been waiting for a man more exciting than these dull politicians to appear,” she said.
I had to bend my head to catch her words, and Tamit interpreted my movement as an invitation. She pecked a kiss on my cheek.
“You give me too much credit, Tamit. I am as dull as any other politician.”
She stifled a laugh and encircled my arm with both her own. “Then tell my why every woman in the kingdom without a husband has her eye on Hemiunu.”
I lifted my gaze above her head to find Axum again. He still stood against the far column. “I have someone I must speak to, Tamit. You will excuse me?”
She sighed like a woman who is bored with everything life has given her. “You will sit beside me for the feast, Hemi. I’ll be certain of it.”
“As you wish.”
Tamit’s flirtations were far from a novelty. Khufu’s cousin on his mother’s side had been a coy girl when the seven of us were young together, and she had since become a tenacious woman. She’d buried one husband in a grand mastaba in Memphis and was hard at work finding another.
It will not be me.
Axum raised his white orbs as I approached. His shaved head glistened in the torchlight. Though the desert night was cool, the torches, the bodies, and the hot food made the hall stifling as though it were midafternoon.
“Axum, I must speak to you.” The Nubian faced me fully, his attention mine. “You have heard about Mentu’s murder?” I asked.
A single, slow
I passed through the palace gate, under the mighty arch. The garden path led me to the palace entry, between two lines of palm trees and flaming torches. My gaze drifted upward to the palace walls. A woman watched me from where she sat on the deep ledge of a window.
The feast had already begun when I stepped into the Great Hall of Pillars. The room swarmed with nobles, officials, courtiers, and administrators, all jockeying for the best positions at the low stone tables that had been placed among the pillars. At the edges of the room, miniature replicas of the great pillars held alabaster lamps of burning oil atop their fluted capitals, bathing the painted walls in gold.
Rashidi’s words had struck deep, and although I could not walk away from the project, I also believed that ma’at would not be put right until I had found justice for Mentu. To this end, I planned to use my appearance at tonight’s festival to speak to the one man I believed could best handle the search for the killer.
Musicians lined the front of the hall, and I noted that the leading harpist in the kingdom had been engaged for the evening. His twenty-stringed harp was among the finest I had seen, and I felt a flicker of jealousy at the ornate column and neck. Music filled the Great Hall, mingling with the rising conversation and reverberating off the stone walls. The drinking had not yet begun and already the noise grated against my ears.
I searched the hall for the man I’d come to see. He would be easy to locate, the Nubian whom I had engaged to keep a watchful eye and a firm hand on the work site. Axum’s basalt-black skin and eyes as white and round as full moons were most intimidating, and even the bravest of the laborers could not stand up to the intensity of his gaze.
Slave girls came to anoint my head and adorn me with a necklace of lotus flowers. I allowed the anointing but could not be bothered by flowers. Across the room, Senosiris lifted a hand in greeting. His daughter stood at his side, watching the festivities with the wide eyes of one new to the pleasures of the privileged.
I spotted the Nubian, Axum, standing apart from the gaiety, at the back of the hall, his back braced against a mighty column.
“Axum!” My voice evaporated in the din. I started toward the Nubian, but a hand around my upper arm held me fast. Behind me, a slender woman pulled up close.
“I’ve been waiting for a man more exciting than these dull politicians to appear,” she said.
I had to bend my head to catch her words, and Tamit interpreted my movement as an invitation. She pecked a kiss on my cheek.
“You give me too much credit, Tamit. I am as dull as any other politician.”
She stifled a laugh and encircled my arm with both her own. “Then tell my why every woman in the kingdom without a husband has her eye on Hemiunu.”
I lifted my gaze above her head to find Axum again. He still stood against the far column. “I have someone I must speak to, Tamit. You will excuse me?”
She sighed like a woman who is bored with everything life has given her. “You will sit beside me for the feast, Hemi. I’ll be certain of it.”
“As you wish.”
Tamit’s flirtations were far from a novelty. Khufu’s cousin on his mother’s side had been a coy girl when the seven of us were young together, and she had since become a tenacious woman. She’d buried one husband in a grand mastaba in Memphis and was hard at work finding another.
It will not be me.
Axum raised his white orbs as I approached. His shaved head glistened in the torchlight. Though the desert night was cool, the torches, the bodies, and the hot food made the hall stifling as though it were midafternoon.
“Axum, I must speak to you.” The Nubian faced me fully, his attention mine. “You have heard about Mentu’s murder?” I asked.
A single, slow
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