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Authors: Gill Harvey
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seems to have gone wrong.’
‘I agree,’ said Nefert. ‘This is no place for Isis and Mut. These men are savages. I gather they take pleasure in baiting scorpions.’ She shuddered.
Sheri and Kia said nothing. But Isis noticed that they stayed close together as they all left the camp. And, as they passed the final fire before stepping into the darkness that lay between them and Waset, she saw the silver streak of a tear on Sheri’s cheek.
.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hopi woke with a start. His neck was stiff. He sat up, rubbing it, and saw that he had fallen asleep on the mats in Menna’s sanctuary, with an oil lamp still burning and the papyrus sheets of spells spread out around him. He yawned and stretched. All was quiet. It must be the middle of the night. Then he peered outside and saw that the first grey light of dawn was filtering into the courtyard.
He gathered the papyrus sheets and scrolled them up again. Menna had taken him through the spells carefully, step by step, explaining each hieroglyph as they went. Hopi still had a long way to go to catch up on his schooling, and many of the signs were unfamiliar to him. But as they had chanted the incantations, repeating them over and over, he had felt the knowledge seeping in.
The light in the courtyard was growing brighter. Hopi put the scrolls back into the niche where they belonged, whispering the spells again to check that he had remembered them. They came back easily, their rhythms swinging through his mind. It was a good feeling. He felt a little awed, too, that he was now the guardian of such magic.
The soft rumble of Menna’s snores drifted from a room at the back of the house. Hopi looked around the sanctuary for his bag, but the priest must have moved it. No matter; the scorpions were safe here. He would come back later. For now, he must return home. He slipped out of the house as the first rays of sun warmed the deserted streets. A donkey brayed; the town would soon come to life.
Hopi walked slowly, thinking through all that had happened since the previous morning. He thought about the pit. What a ghastly sport – goading deathstalkers into stinging prisoners of war. It would be kinder to kill them outright.
And then he thought about Djeri. He knew a lot more about the soldier now. He was clearly a skilled scorpion handler and Commander Meref had made use of that skill. But it was still confusing. He had felt so much sympathy for the soldier at first, but Djeri’s reaction to his limp had been very hurtful. And now this. How could Hopi have warmed to a man who had been part of something so terrible?
He reached home and found the household just beginning to stir. Isis and Mut had slept on the roof and were still huddled in their linen covers, waking up slowly in the morning sun.
‘Where did you go?’ demanded Mut at once. ‘Was it you who took the scorpions?’
Hopi was startled. He hadn’t realised that his actions would be so obvious. ‘What scorpions?’ he bluffed, throwing a quick glance at Isis. He knew she wouldn’t be fooled.
‘Don’t try to be clever,’ said Mut. ‘Why else did Menna send you to the camp?’
Hopi sat down next to them on the mats. He couldn’t deny it, but he knew he had to be careful what he said in front of Mut. ‘It was information that Menna wanted,’ he said. ‘I left quite early to talk to him. Did you hear any of the soldiers talking about me?’
Isis shook her head. ‘No. We just had to leave.’
‘So you didn’t finish performing?’
‘No,’ said Mut. ‘Father’s very fed up with them. Well, we all are. We’re not going back to the camp again.’
Hopi sneaked another look at Isis, wondering how she’d got on with her Libyan prisoner girl. He guessed she would be very disappointed not to be visiting the camp for a third time but, if anything, she seemed quite cheerful. In fact, Hopi spotted a secret gleam in her eye, and suddenly he guessed the truth. He knew his sister all too well. She
‘I agree,’ said Nefert. ‘This is no place for Isis and Mut. These men are savages. I gather they take pleasure in baiting scorpions.’ She shuddered.
Sheri and Kia said nothing. But Isis noticed that they stayed close together as they all left the camp. And, as they passed the final fire before stepping into the darkness that lay between them and Waset, she saw the silver streak of a tear on Sheri’s cheek.
.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hopi woke with a start. His neck was stiff. He sat up, rubbing it, and saw that he had fallen asleep on the mats in Menna’s sanctuary, with an oil lamp still burning and the papyrus sheets of spells spread out around him. He yawned and stretched. All was quiet. It must be the middle of the night. Then he peered outside and saw that the first grey light of dawn was filtering into the courtyard.
He gathered the papyrus sheets and scrolled them up again. Menna had taken him through the spells carefully, step by step, explaining each hieroglyph as they went. Hopi still had a long way to go to catch up on his schooling, and many of the signs were unfamiliar to him. But as they had chanted the incantations, repeating them over and over, he had felt the knowledge seeping in.
The light in the courtyard was growing brighter. Hopi put the scrolls back into the niche where they belonged, whispering the spells again to check that he had remembered them. They came back easily, their rhythms swinging through his mind. It was a good feeling. He felt a little awed, too, that he was now the guardian of such magic.
The soft rumble of Menna’s snores drifted from a room at the back of the house. Hopi looked around the sanctuary for his bag, but the priest must have moved it. No matter; the scorpions were safe here. He would come back later. For now, he must return home. He slipped out of the house as the first rays of sun warmed the deserted streets. A donkey brayed; the town would soon come to life.
Hopi walked slowly, thinking through all that had happened since the previous morning. He thought about the pit. What a ghastly sport – goading deathstalkers into stinging prisoners of war. It would be kinder to kill them outright.
And then he thought about Djeri. He knew a lot more about the soldier now. He was clearly a skilled scorpion handler and Commander Meref had made use of that skill. But it was still confusing. He had felt so much sympathy for the soldier at first, but Djeri’s reaction to his limp had been very hurtful. And now this. How could Hopi have warmed to a man who had been part of something so terrible?
He reached home and found the household just beginning to stir. Isis and Mut had slept on the roof and were still huddled in their linen covers, waking up slowly in the morning sun.
‘Where did you go?’ demanded Mut at once. ‘Was it you who took the scorpions?’
Hopi was startled. He hadn’t realised that his actions would be so obvious. ‘What scorpions?’ he bluffed, throwing a quick glance at Isis. He knew she wouldn’t be fooled.
‘Don’t try to be clever,’ said Mut. ‘Why else did Menna send you to the camp?’
Hopi sat down next to them on the mats. He couldn’t deny it, but he knew he had to be careful what he said in front of Mut. ‘It was information that Menna wanted,’ he said. ‘I left quite early to talk to him. Did you hear any of the soldiers talking about me?’
Isis shook her head. ‘No. We just had to leave.’
‘So you didn’t finish performing?’
‘No,’ said Mut. ‘Father’s very fed up with them. Well, we all are. We’re not going back to the camp again.’
Hopi sneaked another look at Isis, wondering how she’d got on with her Libyan prisoner girl. He guessed she would be very disappointed not to be visiting the camp for a third time but, if anything, she seemed quite cheerful. In fact, Hopi spotted a secret gleam in her eye, and suddenly he guessed the truth. He knew his sister all too well. She
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