crimson stain ebbed rapidly from his face and neck. Reshep looked up at him, revealing a quiet smile. He spread his arms and tossed his head.
'I should have guessed. Forgive me, Lord Meren. This happens so often that I forget how disconcerting it must be to the fathers.'
'What happens so often?'
Reshep turned a little in his chair, rested an elbow on the chair arm, and waved his goblet. 'Young women- girls, if you prefer. Becoming instantly taken in love for me.' Reshep held up his hand when Meren tried to speak. 'I assure you, my lord, I use no spells or amulets. I've no need of them.'
'In truth,' Meren replied mildly.
'Reshep!' Prince Djoser appeared, breathless and eager. 'Come, show my friends how to perform that hunting dance. Lady Isis has requested to see it.'
Reshep glanced at Meren, who rose. 'A host doesn't prevent his guests from seeking merriment.'
When Reshep and Djoser were gone, Meren searched the crowded deck, caught the eye of his son and a charioteer, and resumed his seat. Kysen and Simut approached.
Staring over a table piled with pastries and dessert breads, Meren watched Isis drape herself across a couch, arms propped on cushions, one leg bent to display the curve of her hip. 'Simut, I was wrong not to assign someone to keep watch over my daughter during this feast.'
The charioteer didn't ask to which daughter Meren referred. He spun around and began working his way toward the group of young people watching Reshep lead a men's hunting dance. Kysen let out a short burst of laughter that elicited a scowl from Meren.
'I find your source of amusement unfitting.'
With difficulty Kysen mastered his laughter, but couldn't seem to get rid of his smile. 'Forgive me, Father. Perhaps we should discuss something else. How did you find this country lord, Reshep?'
'Of little interest,' Meren replied. 'He's ornamental, pleasant, but he seems to have no other topic of conversation but himself.'
'Indeed.'
They both turned to find Bener leaning against one of the slender lotus columns that supported the awning. She bore a tray of pastries, which she offered to them before sinking to a cushion beside Meren.
'You agree?' Kysen asked. He looked in Reshep's direction. The dance had finished, and the newcomer had been surrounded by women. Not Isis, however, or Princess Tio, each of whom had their own court of admirers. 'Most women seem to find him godlike in his magnificence.'
'He wouldn't make a good lover, or a good husband,' Bener said with a certainty that caused Meren to sit up straight.
'Why?' he asked.
Bener picked up a fruit pastry and bit into it. 'Because he will always be more in love with himself than any woman.'
'Rather like Isis,' Meren said with a slight smile. 'Their kas are much alike.'
Kysen shook his head. 'I never thought to say this, but Reshep is worse than Isis.'
Meren was about to agree, but he happened to glance across the deck and saw Princess Tio walking toward them. Her height and disdainful expression caused everyone in her path to step aside, so that it appeared that she moved through a wave of white linen and jewels.
'Kysen, Bener, go away, quickly.'
'What's wrong?' Bener asked.
Kysen stood up and pulled his sister to her feet. 'Don't argue. You know that tone.'
'Ky,' Meren said as his son followed Bener from the sitting area. 'Tell the captain to begin the return trip to the quay.'
Tio arrived as Kysen left, and Meren rose to bow to her.
'Princess,' he said.
She walked past him into the deckhouse. Meren stared after her. She wanted to talk to him alone. He heard trumpets blare a warning, and jackals howled, making his ka writhe. Tio was dangerous. Her mistress, the Great Royal Wife, was dangerous. Cursing silently, Meren followed the princess into the deckhouse.
He stepped inside a miniature reception hall fitted with brightly woven hangings, couches, and piles of cushions. Garlands hung from the ceiling and the furniture, and decorated a table bearing refreshments. Tio stood with her back to him beside an alabaster wine jar half her height that rested in a bronze stand. One hand caressed a rose lotus from a wreath that decorated the neck of the jar. Meren watched her long, dark fingers stroke a pink petal. Her palms were tinted with henna. Her head was turned to the side, revealing a high forehead, the delicate curve of her nose, the lips that, for all their plumpness, contributed to the impression of unyielding remoteness he always gained from Tio.
She was trying to unsettle him by making him wait, by remaining silent and forcing him to speak first. Unfortunately for Tio, he used this maneuver himself when trying to intimidate ministers, evildoers, and his children. He turned away from her and dropped onto a gilded couch. Propped up on one arm, he snatched an electrum bowl filled with dates and popped one in his mouth. He was on his third date when Tio whipped around to face him, her expression still unreadable. At that moment the ship leaned as it turned back toward the west bank of the Nile. Tio stumbled and lost her balance.
Meren lunged off the couch, grabbed her arm, and lifted her. He was grinning. 'Have you had too much Syrian wine, O mighty princess?' Tio jerked her arm free.
'You always did have the manners of a furnace tender.'
Meren gave her another bow. 'And you, Tio, are a lady without equal. O rising star of a fortunate year, with hair like lapis lazuli, with voice finer than gold, thou art more fair than the rose lotus, more delicate than the blue lotus, O mistress of captivation.'
'You dung-eating pestilence, I'll hear no more mockery.'
Laughing, Meren dropped back onto his couch and picked up the bowl of dates. 'What do you want, Tio?'
Tio let her arms fall to her sides. Then she laced her fingers together and resumed her detached expression. 'The Mistress of the Two Lands, beloved of the living god, great king's wife, may she live forever, Ankhesenamun, wishes to reward the Friend of the King, Count Meren, for his loyal service to pharaoh. She will take unto her a handmaiden, the daughter of Count Meren, Lady Isis.'
'How wondrous,' Meren said softly. 'I am prostrate with gratitude for this undeserved honor.' He thought quickly. The queen hated him for ruining her plan to replace Tutankhamun with a Hittite prince. It had taken her months to convince pharaoh of her contrition, and now that she had gained back some of the king's favor, she made this move.
'Unfortunately my daughter is still quite immature. Her body is that of a woman, but her ka remains childlike. I fear that she would be of little service to the queen.'
'That is for the Great Royal Wife to decide,' Tio said.
Meren set the bowl of dates aside and poured himself a cup of water. 'Her majesty is gracious, but-'
'The queen has already spoken to pharaoh, who has given his assent.'
Meren's head shot up. Tio was looking down at him, her eyes glinting like obsidian in sunlight. She smiled at him, and he realized she had glimpsed his dismay. Meren rose from the couch and walked past Tio to a table on the other side of the room. His hand touched the feathers of a small fan lying on the table. He stroked the softness while he searched for some excuse, any excuse that would keep his daughter away from the woman who hated him. What justification was there to refuse such an honor? It was a privilege most men would kill to achieve. What remedy?
Meren continued to stroke the fan as. Tio waited and gloated. Finally he turned back to her, his expression rueful.
'Forgive me, princess. I neglected to tell you that Isis will soon marry.'
'I have heard nothing of this,' Tio replied. 'The girl only returned from the country a short time ago, and you haven't asked pharaoh's permission.'
'That is because my daughter has several suitors and hasn't decided among them. This won't surprise you after having seen her tonight. You will understand that such a decision takes time.'
Tio's remote countenance dropped into place again. 'I will inform the Great Royal Wife.'
