Three days.
Kha had said that he would make contact in three days, and that if he didn't... Mereneith didn't want to imagine that possibility, but time was leaving her little choice. The sun was already setting on the third day they agreed upon, and still there was no sign of any message from the prince.
Did he not make it? Has he been captured?
She sat huddled on a straw mat in one corner of her underground cellar, staring blankly at the little fragment of crystal she was rotating between her fingers.
In the three days that she'd been back at the temple, she discovered that little had changed besides the appointment of the new head crystal keeper and a few junior priests being reassigned to the crystal vault. She had been keeping an especially close eye on Sef, trying to catch him doing anything out of the ordinary, but her efforts thus far had been futile. Sef continued to be the subdued wallflower that he'd always been and had been delegated to floor sweeping in the vault by Nephi, the same menial task he had been doing before his reassignment.
"No, I can't just wait around and do nothing," she declared, clamping her fingers around the crystal.
If Kha didn't return, then she was the only one left who knew of the simmering plot of which Rekhmir had been a casualty.
Having made up her mind, Mereneith got up and headed out of her room, making her way swiftly towards the priests' sleeping quarters. Along the way, a few priests were making their way towards the dining hall, since it was time for the evening meal.
The priests' quarters was still and silent, its tenants gathered elsewhere, engaged in pointless banter about yet another day of work over plates of warm bread, cheese and dates.
Mereneith deftly navigated her way to the corridor where the junior priests' dormitories were located, pausing briefly when she passed the doorway to Rekhmir's room. Or what used to be. Already his bed had been colonised by a new occupant—a messily thrown blanket and pile of unwashed clothes contaminating the previously tidy space. Sighing softly, she moved on, slipping into the room that Sef shared with three other priests.
Holding out the small crystal shard in her hand to shed some light to the darkened space, Mereneith started with the wooden trunk sitting beside the priest's bed, and then moved on to the shelves leaning against the walls. There were clothes and washcloths, scrolls and brushes, bottles of oils—but nothing that gave any hint that Sef was involved in anything vaguely treasonous.
A glint of something reflective caught her eye.
Mereneith turned and reached under the bed, pulling out a circular bronze piece. Under the illumination of the crystal, she could decipher the stylised image of a man's face with bull horns protruding from his head, engraved into the metal.
She had seen this likeness before, perhaps only once or twice, from the dusty scrolls left forgotten in the temple's vast library.
Baal.
She stretched her hand further under the bedframe, fumbling about until she felt a cloth pouch beneath her fingertips. The pouch contained some more of the same—twenty pieces in total.
Voices echoed down the corridor and drifted into her ears, so Mereneith quickly shoved the pouch back where she had found it, keeping only one bronze piece clutched tightly within the palm of her hand. She hurried out of the room, disappearing back towards her own before any of the priests returned.
Once she was back in the confines of her den and certain that she hadn't been detected, Mereneith unfurled her fingers to reveal her find. She ran her thumb over the grooves that etched out the creature's hideous countenance, then flipped the piece back and forth thoughtfully.
Baal, the god of the Caananites.
Caanan was a province located on the east bank of the Nile, home to several chiefdoms and a haphazard array of people that the Egyptians deemed barbaric and inferior—who worshipped false gods, like the one whose image Mereneith held between her fingers now. Although trade still took place at the border, there was little else that passed between Egypt and Canaan. Only the scholars would bother referencing anything to do with the Canaanites, and most residents of Memphis—Mereneith included—would go a lifetime without ever meeting one. Were it not for her propensity towards the bizarre and curious, perhaps she would never have recognised the image on the bronze piece.
Mereneith startled at the sudden sound of footsteps descending towards her. Instinctively, she closed her fingers around the little bronze pendant.
She expected it to be one of the priests, but it wasn't. Instead, a dishevelled hooded figure appeared at the foot of the stairs, smelling like rotting kitchen waste. When the hood was lifted, she gasped.
"Kha!"
The prince looked weary and exhausted, purplish-red venation lining the whites of his eyes, but he still found it in him to give her a cheeky wink.
"Had a bit of a close call with some of those priests returning from their meals. Good thing they were too busy arguing about wrestling bets to notice me slipping by," he said.
"I'm surprised they didn't smell you slipping by. What happened?"
Whatever it was, Mereneith had a bad feeling that it wasn't good. Kha was supposed to have returned to the palace to seek help, and that should not have entailed bathing in food scraps and livestock manure.
Kha removed his cloak and sniffed at it. "Sorry, I think my sense of smell is numb after living in these clothes for too long," he said. He left the cloak by the steps, then settled himself down on the floor. "As you can probably tell, things didn't quite go as I had hoped."
Mereneith arched an eyebrow, waiting for the rest of the story.
"My father's been poisoned and lies dying while my mother is having an affair. Also, I can confirm that the one behind my assassination is my eldest brother, Kanefer, who plans on usurping the throne once Father breathes his last."
The prince was speaking in such a detached tone that Mereneith almost felt like he wasn't talking about himself or his family, but gossip about a complete stranger. The corners of his lips were even tilted upwards in a barely-there smile.
A pang of sympathy struck her.
She reached out her hand and placed it over Kha's, realising that he was trembling ever so slightly. He was smiling on the outset, but crying on the inside.
"It's okay, everything will be fine," she said, even though she couldn't believe her own words.
"Will it? No one will help us, Mereneith. I know I promised you that I would help you seek redress for Rekhmir's death, but now I can't even save myself."
"If no one will help us, then we'll help each other. It hasn't been a wasted trip back. At least you now know who the mastermind is, so we have a target to work towards. Also, take a look at this."
She placed the bronze Canaanite disc on the ground in between the two of them.
Kha took a look at it and frowned. "Where did you get this? Isn't this from Canaan?"
Mereneith nodded. "You recognise it too? It's engraved with the likeness of Baal, the Canaan god of fertility. I found this earlier in Sef's room. He has a whole pouch full of these. Do you know what they're used for?"
"They're bronze pieces that the Canaanites use for trade. I remember seeing some of these in Nefermaat's quarters before. He got them off a merchant who plied the border between our kingdom and Canaan. Rare to see these in Memphis though."
"I think the man that met Sef at Saqqara was from Canaan. There's no other explanation for how a low-ranking priest could have gotten his hands on so many of these bronze pieces, when it's so rare for even royalty and nobles in Memphis to possess them," Mereneith concluded. She pinched the disc between her index finger and thumb. "This must be payment for his role in the trade."
"Canaan... Selling the Ak'heka crystals illegally is bad enough, but selling it to Canaan? That's high treason! It's an outright betrayal of the king and the gods!"
To think someone had the gall to attempt this at the holy site of Saqqara, under the noses of all the past kings of Upper and Lower Egypt.
The atmosphere in the cellar took a sombre dive and the surroundings became steeped in silence as both of them locked themselves in their own thoughts. After a long pause, Mereneith spoke.
"So do you think the two matters are connected? Your assassination and the king's poisoning, and the exchange of crystals with Canaan?"
She had a vague idea of how everything was fitting together, but she didn't know as much about the politics of the royal court as Kha did.
"I can't say for sure, but the timing's too coincidental for it not to be," the prince said. "Maybe Kanefer's doing it to build his own pile of gold, or as a distraction so people don't realise what he's actually trying to pull in the palace. Of course, there's always the possibility that it's not him at all." He chewed on his lower lip pensively. "We need to try and reach my father—and save him."
Mereneith blinked, letting Kha's words sink in.
"You want us to rescue the king?"
"That's the only way. The moment the king dies, all is lost. Kanefer will take the throne and then the battle is over. Someone like Kanefer cannot become king."
"But how? There are guards hunting for you everywhere and we have no allies in the palace. We're also not physicians, so even if we do manage to sneak into the palace and find the king, how do you plan on getting rid of the poison?"
"Nefermaat."
"The second prince?"
Kha nodded. "I overheard a conversation between the queen and... Basically I overheard a conversation, where they mentioned that Nefermaat hasn't picked a side yet. Even if he did pledge his allegiance, it will never be to Kanefer, because he knows that Kanefer will not tolerate his existence for long. I cannot appear in the open, but Nefermaat can help."
"Are you sure we can trust him?"
The light in Kha's eyes faded. "No. I can't trust anyone anymore," he replied softly, "but perhaps trust might be less important than mutual interest when it comes to choosing an ally."
The sight of how broken Kha had become stabbed at Mereneith's heart. Gone was the confidence and exuberance, replaced instead by a bleak pragmatism. Through this entire episode, a part of the carefree young boy would be lost for good.
"You can trust me," she said, giving him a comforting smile.
Kha looked across at her, a flash of surprise crossing his eyes. Then he returned her warmth with a broad smile of his own, albeit one that was tinged in sadness.
"Then I must thank the gods for inspiring me to break into the crystal vault that day, else we would never have met."
He reached out and entwined his fingers with hers, gripping on tightly as if she were the sole piece of driftwood keeping him afloat in this storm.
#
Nefermaat's residence was located at a prime location within one of Memphis's wealthiest and busiest districts, a stone's throw from the palace itself. He had moved out of the palace at the age of seventeen, after he had taken on an official appointment in the king's court and wed his first wife.
Hidden amidst the bustling crowd, Kha and Mereneith camped across the street from the prince's residence until they saw him return from court, hoisted in his richly decorated litter. Then, before Nefermaat had a chance to step through his front door, Kha rushed forward and intercepted his path, lifting his heavy hood just enough for his brother to catch a glimpse of his dirt-covered countenance.
"Kh—" Nefermaat started, then caught his tongue in the nick of time. His eyes darted around, then he beckoned for Kha to follow him into his residence.
Mereneith trailed along behind the men, keeping a watchful eye about the surroundings. They were led through three courtyards, each one tastefully decorated with well-pruned gardens, until they came to Nefermaat's private study within the residence's inner quarters. Along the way, she spotted a handful of servants busy with their daily chores, all of whom kept their gazes humbly lowered as the prince blustered past. Nefermaat ran a strict household, that much she could already tell.
Once they were in the study, the prince swiftly shut the doors behind them. He turned and grabbed Kha by the shoulders, pulling the latter into an embrace.
"My brother! You are alive!" Nefermaat exclaimed. He threw his head back and laughed. "Ha, Kanefer will piss himself when he sees that you're back." He turned and glanced in Mereneith's direction. "And you've brought a lovely companion with you, I see."
Kha eked out a smile, but Mereneith could still detect the distance that he was keeping from his older brother. She bowed respectfully to the second prince.
"This is Mereneith, from the Great Temple of Ptah. She can be trusted."
"Sit down, sit down," the second prince continued, gesturing at the empty chairs by the windows. "So where have you been, Kha? Did you only just arrive in Memphis? Look at the state of you! You hardly look like a prince of Egypt with those rags. We'll have to get you cleaned up in a bit."
"Yes," Kha lied. "I heard word on the streets about what's happened in the royal court and I came here straight away. Nefermaat, is it true that Father is in a critical condition?"
"Unfortunately so." Nefermaat pursed his lips together, rubbing his double chin ruefully. "I don't know how much you know, but I think it would be best for you to lie low in the meantime."
"I know that Kanefer was the one who sent men to kill me."
"Ah. Good, good. Good to have your eyes open, else you won't know who's trying to stab you in the dark. We all know how ambitious Kanefer is. He thinks you're the biggest threat to his claim on the throne."
"I also know that he's poisoned Father."
Mereneith caught a flicker of astonishment in Nefermaat's eyes. The second prince appeared stunned for a brief moment, then he regained his usual slick composure.
"That is a very serious accusation, Kha. One that should not be made lightly. The royal physicians have already conducted their diagnosis and the possibility of poison has never been raised. Have you got proof of what you are saying?"
"If I did I would already have charged into the royal court." Kha slammed one clenched fist onto the table beside him. "But believe me, Nefermaat, it is true. Father is not ill, he has been poisoned, and he will die if we don't do something about it. You have always been the cleverest of us, I'm sure you don't need me to explain what the consequences will be."
Nefermaat's lips twitched imperceptibly, and his beady eyes gleamed with a shrewdness that reminded Mereneith of a fox.
"Of course, if what you're suggesting is true, then I can certainly see Kanefer's motivation behind it... What might you have us do? Although I am still co-regent in name, I'm afraid there is very little that's within my control. Kanefer has a hold on the palace and city guards, and more and more of the court officials are falling into his camp. Our brother has played a very successful game, I must say."
"Could we bring a different physician into the palace? There are plenty of other capable ones in Memphis. Kanefer could have bribed the royal physicians into making a false diagnosis."
"You think I haven't tried that already? When Father first took ill, I insisted on bringing Mahmoud into the palace because I did not trust Kanefer, but even Mahmoud did not detect anything amiss with Father's condition."
Kha fell silent, his brows knitting tightly. Mahmoud was well-known to be one of the best physicians in the city, and eccentric enough to be impossible to bribe. The king had tried to appoint him as a royal physician several times, but had been rejected on all occasions because the man preferred to use his talents to help anyone who needed it, regardless of rank and wealth.
"I can try," Mereneith said.
"You?" Nefermaat scoffed, looking unconvinced. "Child, if the best physicians in Memphis cannot do anything, what makes you think you can?"
"I may not be a physician, but there is one thing we can try. We can try using the Ak'heka crystals."
"Mereneith, what are you saying?" Kha asked. "The crystals?"
"I've encountered old records in the temple library that suggest that the crystals have some form of healing properties. There's not much to go on and I haven't actually seen them being used for this purpose, but since there's no other solution, then it might be worth a shot."
It hadn't struck her until she entered Nefermaat's residence and saw one of the servant girls balancing a tray with a few receptacles that were commonly used to carry cosmetics, likely cosmetics for his wives. That reminded her of one of the documented uses of the crystals that was often dismissed by the scholars as baseless nonsense—that they had the ability to rejuvenate one's youth and revive the dead. Perhaps the records were exaggerated, but there was no smoke without fire. If it was impossible to create an antidote for the king, then maybe harnessing the energy of the crystals was a potential alternative.
"Old records?" Nefermaat waved his flesh hand dismissively. "This sounds like the mumbo-jumbo of shamans. We can't possibly stake the life of the king on such gibberish."
"Mereneith, how sure are you that it'll work?" Kha leaned over and asked.
She shook her head. "Not at all, but what have we got to lose?"
Kha thought about it for a moment, then he got up from his chair and knelt down in front of his older brother.
"Goodness, what are you doing?" Nefermaat yelped.
"Please, Nefermaat, hear me out. I know this sounds crazy and we don't have a lot to go on, but I'm asking you to trust me this once and take a leap of faith. Help us get into the palace and into Father's chambers so that Mereneith can try her solution. We're running out of time."
"You do realise that we'd be putting our necks on the line with this? Kanefer has the king's chambers guarded all hours of day, so not even a fly can get in and out without him knowing. If he gets wind that you're not dead, you can bet your life that you won't have a second chance of escape. And if he finds out that I'm helping you, I'll be replacing that roasted pig on the banquet table!"
"If Father dies, then we're dead too anyway."
Nefermaat opened his mouth in retort, but the only thing that came out was a strangled cry. Then, he collapsed against the backrest of his chair, sighing loudly.
"I'll smuggle her in," he said, pointing at Mereneith, "but only her. You can stay here and wait."
"No!" Kha leapt up to his feet. "I'm going too!"
The second prince wagged his index finger. "No you're not. Let me break it down for you. If she gets caught, and there is a very high chance that she will, I have every intention to wash my hands off everything and deny any involvement in this matter. If you're with her, then I'd be obliged to save your little ass, which makes it far harder for me to extricate myself after that."
"You don't have to intervene if I get caught, and I won't mention your name in any of this."
"That is out of the question. Just her. Take it or leave it."
"Nefermaat, I—"
Mereneith reached out and tapped Kha on the arm, signalling to him to stop arguing. Nefermaat had explained half of his reasoning, but not all of it, and she had already understood what Kha hadn't.
To the second prince, she was an easy sacrifice. If she succeeded, he would reap the benefits; if she failed, it wouldn't hurt him to see her executed. The same could not be said of Kha. Kha was a valuable piece in the "game" that Nefermaat spoke of, a game of which she was certain that the latter was a highly involved player with his own agenda. Nefermaat was a puppeteer—and he had already identified Kha as his puppet of choice.
But for now, his agenda did not matter, as long as they were still working towards the same goal.
"I will go alone," she said.
And for her own sake, she could not fail.
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