Instead he stood receiving the obeisance of laborers, fishermen, servants, and fanners while his golden wristbands, rings, and broad collar captured the sun's heat and burned his skin. He fingered the hilt of the dagger in his belt as he listened to humble greetings from men who remembered him as a naked child. He tried to conceal his impatience and make a gracious reply. These were the people whose labor was his to command, but he'd learned long ago that their industry depended much upon their contentment. Still, he was glad when his steward, Kasa, arrived with a chariot and a band of servants to assist in transferring his belongings to the house.
He left Kasa to handle the arrangements with Zar and drove with the girls down the road beside the main canal. It soon turned into a graded path that left the fields and ended up at the white-plastered and painted gates of Baht. The tree-shrouded house was an oasis of cool shade in the blistering heat. A group of naked toddlers and children shrieked at them from the protection of a palm near the entrance. Bener waved, and the young ones burst into a run behind the chariot. Porters had already swung the heavy gates open and were bending low as they drove inside.
Meren walked the horses down an avenue of sycamores. To either side lay twin reflection pools shaded by trees older than he was. Geese swam in the pools while herons stalked across them. He breathed in warm, water- sweetened air. Bener slipped her arm around his waist, and he looked down at her. In her eyes he saw his own pleasure reflected. Abruptly he realized that she shared his love of simple pleasures of the senses-the smell of freshly harvested grain, the sound of water lapping against the side of a reflection pool.
Her expression changed as she glanced toward the loggia that sheltered the entrance to the main house. The corners of her mouth drew down, and her eyes widened. Then the frown was gone behind a mask of pleasant wel- come, and Meren was left to wonder just how much more he had in common with this daughter who had transformed herself into a woman without his permission. Bener knew when to conceal her thoughts to suit her own needs. Of this he was certain. But then, she'd always been quick of wit.
Vowing to solve this small mystery, he pulled up to the loggia and descended from the chariot. This was the moment he'd been dreading since the girls had broken the news of the feast to him. He'd expected all three of his uncles and their families, their children-except for his enemy-cousin Ebana-and his aunt Nebetta and her husband. None of them stood on the steps waiting for him. Was it too much to hope they hadn't come? Only Idut, her son, and his great-aunt in her carrying chair waited for him, along with a half-dozen servants.
He handed the chariot reins to a groom and received a welcoming kiss from his great-aunt. The old woman laid a dry hand grooved with crevicelike wrinkles on his cheek and studied him with mottled, nearsighted eyes. Cheritwebeshet was ancient, older even than his grandmother. Her shift hung around her frail body like a slack sail, and her hands shook as she touched him. But her voice was sharp.
'So, they haven't killed you yet. You're smarter than your father was.'
'May the gods protect you too, Aunt Cherit.'
'And still too pretty for your own good. Not married, adopted a plain-blooded son of a butcher, consorting with that fool Ay.'
'Kysen wasn't a butcher's son, Aunt.' He bent down and kissed her wrinkled cheek. 'I've missed you.'
'Why couldn't you marry again and produce a son, that's what I'd like to know? It's not as if you lack for women in your bed. Ah! You didn't think I knew, did you? These old ears hear like a hyena, and I have lots of friends at court. Now don't put on your offended prince's face. I'll be quiet. For now.' Cherit tapped one of her bearers on the shoulder. 'Carry me back to my chamber. It's too hot out here. Welcome home, boy.'
Bener was still standing beside him.
'I remember promising myself not to harangue my children that way,' he whispered to her. All he got in response was an eloquent lift of her brows.
'Meren, Meren, you're a day late,' Idut said.
He hugged his sister and ignored her complaint. Idut was a head shorter than he and several years younger. His gaze took in her grave countenance without surprise. Idut had always been something of a mystery to him. She seldom smiled, except when entertaining, and was given to long silences that disturbed him. She always seemed to be brooding about something, but he could never figure out what she was brooding about.
Like Isis, Idut had the fragile facial structure that so reminded him of Nefertiti, but her chin came to a decided point. When they were children he used to tease her that she could poke holes in a copper target with her chin. He noticed a fan of tiny lines radiating from the corners of her eyes, and she still had the habit of curling her toes under when she stood for any length of time.
'Idut, I want to talk to you about this feast.'
'Imset, come here and greet your uncle.'
He frowned at his sister, but accepted Imset's speech of welcome. Idut was proud of her son, and Meren had to admit that he was brilliant of wit. He had managed to acquire the skills of a scribe twice his age at the school in the temple of Osiris in nearby Abydos. But Idut confused intellect with maturity.
The youth stood goggling at him with the heavy-lidded stare of a frog. Bener ignored her cousin, and Isis had disappeared. He tried to engage Imset in conversation as they all walked inside, but the youth had exhausted his social talents with the completion of his memorized speech. Idut saved him.
'I know what you're thinking, Meren, and you're wrong.'
'What am I thinking?'
'You're thinking I'm going to pester you about an appointment for Imset, but I'm not.' Idut lifted her chin and gave him a triumphant look. 'My suitor, Wah, has found a post for Imset with the viceroy of Kush. That's something you, his own uncle, should have been able to do, but wouldn't. He's leaving at once and only stayed to give you greeting.'
'I rejoice in your good fortune, sister.' To Imset he said, 'May the gods bless your journey.'
All he got in response was another toadlike stare. Meren was still trying to think of something to say to Imset when two figures stepped into the cool darkness of the entry hall. He blinked rapidly to adjust his vision to the lack of sunlight, recognized the newcomers, and felt blood rush to his head. The voice of his heart, the pulse, pounded in his ears. Nebetta and Hepu. The only sister of his father, and her husband.
Time stopped; then the years flowed backward in less than a heartbeat. He was hot and swimming in a lake of misery, lying in pain, trying to wake, trying to open his eyes. He was too weak to accomplish this one small act, and the weakness frightened him. He tried to cry out for help. His lips moved, but his voice wouldn't come out of his throat. He tried to speak again, and something cool and wet pressed against his mouth, bringing relief. The cold dampness brushed over his cheeks, forehead, eyes, and at last he could lift his lids.
Memory returned. His father was dead, and pharaoh had had him beaten into submission. Then Ay had saved him. Where was he? The damp cloth passed across his forehead again, and his blurry vision cleared.
His cousin Djet leaned over him and touched the cloth to his lips again. His cousin's great height made him seem to bend like an acacia tree. They were close in age and shared the sharp, angular jaw of their grandfather. Djet's eyes were more almond-shaped and glinted with biting humor. They had been close as boys, sharing the rough and raucous escapades of noble youths. Until the family had decreed that Meren take a wife. Soon after that Djet left, taking foreign posts that kept him out of Egypt. And yet, after all this time, there was no one Meren trusted more.
Djet set the damp cloth aside and sat back down on the ebony chair beside the bed. 'You're awake at last. No, don't try to speak. I know what you want to say. Ay sent all the way to Babylon for me weeks ago. I know everything, damn you and your cursed uprightness and honesty. It's near gotten you killed. Why couldn't you have lied about believing in pharaoh's upstart god?'
'Father's d-dead.'
'Because he was a stubborn fool.'
Meren tried to get up. 'My family!'
'Your wife and daughter are safe in the country.' Djet shoved Meren back onto the cushions of his bed. He needed little strength to do it; Meren was shivering with the effects of his ordeal, starvation, and tortured thoughts. He was about to sink into another stupor when Djet lifted his head and pressed a cup to his lips. Meren drank in hot beef broth that steamed its way down his throat to his stomach.
Meren shoved the cup aside. 'You shouldn't be here. You don't know the danger. The king is-'
'I know the danger. Now drink some water.'
'Why did you have to come back now? I've begged you to come home for years, and you never would. But you come back now, when you could get yourself thrown into a crocodile pit for a misspoken word. You're mad. Go back
