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the end of Akhet
in order to avoid the unlucky taint of death, and moved to a day decreed by the High Priest of Amun.
    Hatshepsut had been trapped in the Hall of Women, her father’s mourning wives her only company, although she’d received several gifts from Mensah. The latest was a basket of almonds and fresh lettuce leaves, both well-known aphrodisiacs. A papyrus note lay nestled inside.
    I thought you might sneak out tonight so we could nibble on these together. I miss you.
    She burned the note and fed the lettuce and almonds to one of the concubine’s dogs.
    Hatshepsut had been allowed out of the Hall of Women only once since her father’s death, so she could attend the small ceremony that officially transferred the double crown to her brother. A larger coronation waited for the wedding day. Today she received a taste of the freedom she had once taken for granted, as the old pharaoh was laid to rest, allowing her brother to claim his place fully upon the Isis Throne.
    “I’ll be glad when this is over,” Thut said to Hatshepsut as they followed the funeral procession up the sandy path to their father’s tomb. She noted the ever-present circles under his eyes and bit back a stinging retort about how she’d been entombed in the Hall of Women. Thut had been especially sweet and gentle over the past two months, bringing her new jewels and enameled boxes of sweetmeats when he’d come to visit; so considerate that she’d wanted to scream every time he’d denied her only request: to allow her to leave the Hall of Women. She would convince her brother of her use in his throne room or go slowly insane while locked away. She just had to wait for the right opportunity.
    “I wish funerals didn’t have to be at this ungodly time of day.” Thut walked slower than usual today, leaning heavily on his cane. Slaves weren’t allowed in the royal entourage, so Hatshepsut fanned herself and Thut with a swan’s-wing fan, but the meager breeze she created did no good. “Morning would have been better—it’s too damn hot to be gallivanting through the desert.”
    “It’s the custom,” Hatshepsut said. The court officials attended the public funeral at dawn, but only the royal family and priests accompanied Osiris Tutmose to his final resting place in the Western Valley. The threat from thieves dictated that few knew the location of the royal tomb.
    The sledge bearing their father’s mummy scraped over the sand. The oxen snorted, two beasts as black as Nut’s belly at night. Each wore a wreath of lotus blossoms around its horns, a symbol of rebirth.
    “Well, custom or not, it’s infernally hot,” Thut said. “Only snakes and scorpions go out in the midday sun. And I think most of the snakes are smart enough to have taken cover today.”
    “Perhaps you should change the law, then.” Hatshepsut spared a glance behind them to their father’s widows. Ahmose regally picked her way over the path, while Mutnofret huffed her way up the slope like a beast of burden. The front of her sheath was drenched with sweat. “Your mother is having a difficult time,” she said to Thut. “You should help her.”
    He looked behind them. “You don’t mind?”
    “Not at all,” Hatshepsut replied, grateful to Mutnofret for the distraction. “I’ll be fine.”
    They continued in subdued silence to the pharaoh’s tomb. The time had come for the symbolic weighing of Osiris Tutmose’s heart against Ma’at’s feather. If his heart was lighter than the goddess’s feather, the dead pharaoh would be found true of voice and Osiris would welcome him into the glory of the afterlife. If not, the beast Ammit would gorge itself on the pharaoh’s heart for dinner tonight. Hatshepsut shuddered at the thought of the slavering monster, a fearful combination of crocodile, lion, and hippopotamus.
    Priests carried Osiris Tutmose’s treasures for the afterlife into his tomb, furniture and art to keep the pharaoh comfortable in