《Caligo Cordolium》


 The beginning was she -1-

    She was the most expensive gift ever given to Ramesses II. A goddess who looked down on her people with a gentle smile; who towered over them as if her beauty wasn¡¯t perfect enough. She was the pride of the Hittites; the face of a nation that had turned its strength into a problem of Egypt through intelligence and courage.


    Assou eyed her from a distance, one grape of the buffet loosely between his slender fingers. They had dressed this strange princess in an expensive, cream-coloured linen calasiris, adorned with precious, coloured gems and pompous necklaces of gold. The colourful stones adorning her hips gleamed in the setting sun; making her appearance simple yet remarkable.


    Maathorneferure was the name Ramesses had christened her when he had presented her to the people with noble words ¨C as a gift to the living god so that he would bring them abundant prosperity.


    It was a good alliance and probably the best decision to bring peace to the tense situation between the other empires. Even if it could only bring tranquillity to some of the stress-ridden sides. On the others, slaves rebelled, caught up in the belief that they didn¡¯t have to serve Ramesses; that their destiny lay in the hands of other gods who didn¡¯t speak through his will.


    With a sigh, Assou closed his eyes and let the celebration wash over him. It had been the new royal consort¡¯s idea to let the people share in the alliance, and it wasn¡¯t the worst he had ever been asked to do. Besides Ramesses¡¯ outlandish wishes, a feast for the entire country was akin to collecting taxes ¨C it wasn¡¯t a challenge.


    Ramesses had dressed for this feast little better than he did every day for the throne. He wore a knee-length shendyt that had been patterned with plentiful colours. His naked torso gleamed in the waning heat of the land, shimmering under the rays that brushed his tanned skin. The sandals on his feet were new and the crozier in his hand looked stuck. He provided the perfect image to be carved in stone on the spot as a powerful king. And yet it was impossible not to see that he had grown old. His leathery skin, grazed by wrinkles, betrayed him.


    On top, his gaze hid something that didn¡¯t match the statues that had been built for him all over Egypt: joy graced his thin lips. A pleasure to possess a new, beautiful woman. A splendour fit for a living god. The glow of his dark eyes outshone even the ostrich-feathered chepresh, whose blue colour matched his consort¡¯s gemstones splendidly and whose serpentine head watched over them imperiously.


    Half in thought, Assou popped the grape into his mouth before turning away from his king and letting his gaze slide over the citizens. Simple men and women had set up stalls nearby to attract as many people as possible. The protection of the palace, the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, had triggered the selling fever and the bonds that were formed forged in burgeoning darkness. Others helped themselves to the food that had been brought from all over, while restrained discord divided the crowd. The richer Egyptians tried to keep a respectable distance from the poor and get close to Ramesses, from which only the guards prevented them.


    ¡°What a mess,¡± was the first thing that slipped Assou¡¯s lips before he allowed his vision to waver over the goods on offer and ultimately started his retreat towards Ramesses. Straight past the guards, who met him with a friendly nod before he found a seat beside his king. A presumption that would have been punished on other days ¨C he was only a vizier and messenger of a god, not one of their own ¨C but on this occasion conveyed a gesture of mutual trust.


    ¡°Assou, tell me, how do the people like the gift I have given them?¡± Instantly Ramesses II addressed him, causing Assou to bow his head in humility. The long-cut robe on his body wrinkled.


    ¡°They are very pleased with your kindness, my Pharaoh,¡± the vizier replied.


    Pale pride set the pharaoh¡¯s body a little more upright so that no one but his new wife could look over him. Maathorneferure sat right next to him, the thin smile carved on her full lips as she glanced in his direction. She was visibly younger than thirty, though close to it. She possessed a charisma that undermined any grace the other two Great Royal Queens might have had. Her presence made people forget that Meritamen and Bintanath had taken seats further down the table.


    Barely noticeably, Assou¡¯s attention broke away from Maathorneferure and once again wandered over the heads of the crowd ¨C for her sake. The tightness in his chest accompanied the hope; the hint of unease in his chest that didn¡¯t reach his face. Part of him longed for the sight of the woman who had caught his eye a month ago beside large pots and sacks of wheat. Whenever he closed his eyes to rest, he thought he remembered her pretty face, with a smile that would have charmed any man in his right mind.


    And he certainly wouldn¡¯t have been the pharaoh¡¯s tjati ¨C Ramesses¡¯ closest confidant ¨C if he hadn¡¯t been in his right mind.


    Her slender figure had looked delicate in the simple linen, and though Maathorneferure was now considered the most beautiful woman in Egypt, this young stranger from the wheat stall had been more enchanting than anything he had ever laid eyes on before.


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    Nimbly, Assou reached for another grape found among the other dishes near the pair and put it to his lips. There was no hunger, no desire. Instead, the secret spark of anticipation lurked beneath his skin, making his eyes glide restlessly over the heads of hundreds of people, begging to spot the stranger amidst the crowd.


    The conversations in the background merely grazed him.


    Narrowing his eyes, he watched the linen in the distance. A few women and men approached. Some with jugs in their hands, others with stone plates full of food. Supplies they didn¡¯t need and yet carried something Assou desired.


    Instantly, the vizier¡¯s shoulders tightened before he stretched his head. There, among jars and plates and bodies swaying around, she walked. The stranger.


    The dark, almost black roots of her hair turned a warm brown that reached across her shoulders to her chest like honey in the evening glow. The calasiris on her body shimmered nobly under the strands and caressed her gentle curves. She was the first woman to transform a simple scrap of cloth, without jewellery, into a garment of the rich.


    Without further ado, Assou turned his gaze back to Ramesses. The plate in front of him was still half full, the wine jug was overflowing, there was no shortage of water or beer, and he appeared to be listening to a conversation between his new lover and another woman. So he took the freedom to get up. He had to seize the opportunity and get closer to her; at least learn her name before the feast ended. But the crowding of slaves away from the table was stifling, and before he could even set foot from the upscale company to the commoners, he bumped into someone.


    Heat chased the hairs on the back of his neck up before, out of the corner of his eye, he watched as a slave stumbled and the jug in her hands spilled forward. She tried to keep her balance, to avoid the worst ¨C but buckled and bumped into the table, losing her grip on the wine. Some of the liquid splashed onto the stone, onto the food, onto Assou¡¯s clothes, and straight over to Ramesses, burning deep stains on Maathorneferure¡¯s calasiris.


    The pharaoh¡¯s movements remained sluggish while his spouse drew in a sharp breath and measured the slave with a narrow gaze. ¡°Is this your first time doing this?¡±


    ¡°No, my Queen. Please forgive me.¡± Voice and head lowered, the offender conveyed the image of a mauled dog and though Maathorneferure waved it off, it was Ramesses¡¯ features that lingered uncomfortably on the woman.


    ¡°My Pharaoh,¡± lightly, like a breeze at the edge, Assou interjected, ¡°forgive me. I bumped into this slave without giving her a chance to dodge. Punishing her would give us no advantage. She is but one component of the palace ¨C and, I must note, has been serving quietly and in satisfaction for some years now.¡±


    And only one of many that he kept seeing between the pillars.


    He didn¡¯t know much about her. Only that her name was Dinem and she had started as a young girl to perform bonded slavery in the palace. By now she was a grown woman, probably the same age as himself ¨C without glamour in her appearance. She was presentable, but just as unremarkable as the others, who chased like shadows through the corridors.


    ¡°If you say so, I will believe you,¡± Ramesses finally replied before turning to his consort and gesturing to her in hushed tones that Assou couldn¡¯t hear. The only thing that reached him was Maathorneferure¡¯s smile ¨C knowing, biting behind flawless lips. Then she stood up, and moved away from the table along with two enslaved girls, leaving nothing more than a silent trail of breathlessness.


    Only when she disappeared behind the columns of the palace did most of them go about their usual business. Conversation filled the gaps. The meal went on. Only Dinem remained motionless in her position.


    ¡°I thank you.¡± Her voice lingered buzzing in Assou¡¯s ears, while her lead-dark eyes were fixed intently on him. For a moment, he even believed there was a smile on her lips, a gratitude that was misplaced.


    ¡°Just watch your surroundings next time. Maathorneferure wasn¡¯t pleased with what happened,¡± he returned. Words that were nothing but speculation and yet held an element of certainty. The Great Royal Queen had hidden bitterness that had stung him. Similar to colourless poison that every slave had to beware of when dreaming of something distant like peace.


    ¡°I will remember that, though I am sure the Queen can overlook a calasiris.¡± Barely noticeably, Dinem shrugged. ¡°Your kindness is not forgotten, my Vizier.¡±


    She bowed and gestured her gratitude with a last nod before turning away and carrying the empty jug away. Her posture, her actions, everything about her screamed of quiet rebellion, of a woman who didn¡¯t belong in the palace and yet had been raised by everyone in it.


    Snorting, Assou pushed the moment away from him before breaking away from the meal and heading for the palace as well. He couldn¡¯t meet the eyes of the beautiful stranger without fresh clothes ¨C not at a feast where the only distinction was between dolts and presentable men.


    The uncomfortable sandals on his feet groaned as he took the few flat steps to the entrance, only to stand immediately in the pleasant semi-darkness of the palace. A few calyxes of fire lit the way, leaving sleepy loneliness lurking in the cracks of the stones. Assou followed them, answering their calls all the way to his study. The door creaked as he pushed it inwards so that the hallway could cast a dim light on the endless rolls of papyrus piled on a low table. Earth was in the air. Homely security of a place that served as his sleeping spot most of the time.


    In a small chest that had been placed in his room for belongings two years ago, he found spare clothes ¨C a lightly draped, light blue tunic, with a matching, almost white shendyt. The gifts flattered the blue and red stone jewellery at his neck and also the light fabric underneath, adorned with gold that shimmered through the tunic. He kept his brownish leather sandals on, tugged the fresh robe to fit his body and placed a black shawl around his hips ¨C a gift from his predecessor.


    Then he turned towards the exit. He had to elicit words from the stranger that would make her approachable. The feast was the perfect occasion. Her figure, her body, her friendly eyes, needed a name.

 The beginning was she -2-

    He hurriedly pulled the blue head covering from his mop of hair and stroked through the black strands that reached just to the tip of his ears. If he rushed, he would still catch the stranger. He could meet her before she withdrew from the feast. They would both fill the evening with conversation and new acquaintances. Strange and different. Able to-


    Sudden muttering snapped Assou out of scattered thoughts and made him glance over his shoulder, only to catch sight of the small, black figure beside his table. Although the door was closed, it had found its way inside and was looking at him with bright green eyes.


    ¡°Amenti...¡± Brows raised, Assou went to his knees and lured the animal. But it didn¡¯t stir. Instead, its tail twitched briskly from right to left.


    Amenti was one of the three sacred cats of the palace and thus one companion of Meritamen ¨C the second, royal consort.


    ¡°Are you lost?¡± Cautiously, Assou crawled closer to her, held out his hand, and waited. But she still showed no reaction, merely seemed to cast a spell on him before she stood up. She sauntered to the door to scratch at the wood with one paw, which he immediately opened for her.


    With a leap, she made it to the hallway, looked at him once more, nodded completely absurdly, and then started moving ¨C deeper into the palace. He watched her go for a moment, letting the sheen of black fur calm him and only slowly recapturing the thoughts that had taken him by surprise earlier.


    So he, too, got himself moving.


    The blue fabric found its way back onto his mop of hair as footsteps noisily accompanied him outside. His shadow danced gallantly across the walls, following an intricate melody, before colliding with another black mass. A shadow that engulfed his own.


    The first thing Assou perceived was the beautifully curved hips of a woman. The second was the penetrating gaze of the third Great Royal Queen.


    Maathorneferure¡¯s upright gait had the charm of a goddess. Perhaps because her legs were longer than anything found in Egypt. Or perhaps it was because of her straight posture. Even her shadow was formidable compared to his, and the way she strode had the grace of a snake. She dwarfed the two enslaved girls at her side.


    ¡°I see you have already changed.¡± Her voice wavered between deep calm and germinating turmoil.


    ¡°Indeed. And I apologise again for ruining your robe. It wasn¡¯t intended for me to bump into an enslaved girl.¡± As was proper, he placed a hand on his chest and bowed. It was politeness that commanded it.


    ¡°I accept the apology.¡± Her smile became more heartfelt, while the sparkle in her dark eyes exuded joy. ¡°But if you dare speak for me again and not give me a chance to address my needs to Ramesses, I will make sure you lose your title as vizier. You should know your position.¡± She lost all friendliness, all formality, and simply spoke at him as if they were old enemies on a new battlefield. ¡°Keep your nose out of matters that don¡¯t concern you and don¡¯t speak for others. Save yourself the trouble of trying to disagree. I don¡¯t like it when people of high status actually pretend to care about their slaves.¡± She took a step closer to him. ¡°Liars are nothing more than souls we can sacrifice. And I don¡¯t need anyone to take over my spouse¡¯s decisions, making suggestions that are nothing more than a misleading report.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem to be familiar with the duties of a vizier, do you?¡± His question was provocative in the face of his opponent. ¡°I make suggestions to the pharaoh concerning the empire. Do you think a mouthpiece of the gods, a god himself, can bother with the smallest trifles?¡±


    ¡°The mouthpiece of the gods knows what he has to do. If he is what he claims to be, he needs no advice because he already knows the answer.¡± She snorted. ¡°Take care of the people¡¯s taxes, the slaves and all the other inanities of the land, but don¡¯t you dare interfere again in a situation that doesn¡¯t require your advice. My word carries more weight than yours. You should always keep that in mind.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t his problem. If she desired it, he would get out of her way. Wasting strength wasn¡¯t on his agenda ¨C not even when his fingertips were tingling and the words to fight back were on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he swallowed the lesson and put on a weary smile. ¡°As you wish. If you will excuse me, then.¡±


    Without giving Maathorneferure another glance, he strolled past her and followed down the dark corridor, where his shadow enjoyed the trivial solitude.


    The warmth outside the palace, which tasted fresher than the stale air of rock cut from the country¡¯s cliffs ages ago, greeted him with faint stars on the now almost black horizon. It made him breathe deeply, driving Maathorneferure into the background and freeing him to let his eyes wander over the mass of the feast.


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    Slaves were still pouring drinks, food was being served, and conversations bubbled up and ebbed away. Nothing had changed in his absence. The only difference was that he couldn¡¯t locate the brown strands of the beautiful stranger. Almost as if she had been swallowed up by the crowd, although hardly anyone had moved from their spot.


    Slowly, Assou bridged the distance to the table where Ramesses was eating. Searching with each step, always with hope in his body, while his shoulders slumped lower and his chest tightened with each failure to find her.


    ¡°Are you looking for something, Vizier?¡± A voice behind him snapped him out of his miserable pursuit and brought a small boy to the fore. The chin-length black hair hung straight down, resembling Dinem¡¯s, and gleamed in the light of the erected fire goblets.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for someone,¡± Assou admitted hesitantly. ¡°Have you perhaps seen a woman with long hair? It starts almost black and winds in dark brown to the tips. She wears a simple calasiris, and she sells wheat.¡±


    For a moment, the boy¡¯s eyes pierced him; silent and disinterested until he pursed his lips and nodded. ¡°I think I saw her. She left the feast.¡±


    She had left. And he hadn¡¯t got a chance to speak to her. Another wasted opportunity that whizzed past him.


    With a thin smile, Assou stroked the boy¡¯s mop of hair before pressing a gold coin from the inside pocket of his tunic into his hands and turning away. If the gods wanted to test him, he had to meet their standards. Winning a woman was easy if you had status and wealth. But to win a woman over honestly, unlike most of his rank, was something else. It was difficult; like a test where he had to put all his eggs in one basket.


    Assou¡¯s steps were quick as he weaved his way through the crowds. Again and again his eyes darted over heads and bodies, looking for gaps that would allow him to advance unseen. He had to follow the widest street away from the palace to the centre before the masses thinned and the wild snatches of conversation came at him less insistently.


    The smell of sweat enveloped his senses ¨C combined with fragrant wax that hadn¡¯t melted in the hair of some yet. It made him swallow dryly and hold his breath longer than necessary before exhaling thoughtfully. Then he looked around again, eyeing the goods on the floor, sporadically offered by those willing to sell.


    White calasiris shone like bright drops between sand and darkness, while the flickering of goblets gave meagre light. Black hair shimmered. Jewellery tinkled. Brown hair drew him in.


    Momentarily, Assou sucked in the air deeper before blinking a few times. But she was still there. He wasn¡¯t dreaming. On a wall of a house, in front of which stood a couple of heavy-looking jugs, she was advertising her wheat. The sunny smile on her youthful face and the gleam in her eyes were highlighted playfully by the flames.


    He had been to this place a few times before, but he had never approached her. This time he would take the plunge; hear her voice and learn her name.


    ¡°I see they serve wheat here.¡± The smirk on his lips didn¡¯t match the tremble in his voice. ¡°I¡¯d need another sack for the palace.¡±


    ¡°As you wish.¡± She knew who he was; as all Egypt knew. But even though her voice was subtle and only grazed his perception, Assou thought he perceived friendliness behind it.


    Half in a trance, he watched as the stranger took a linen sack and filled it with grains of wheat. With each ladle, the sack became fuller, heavier, and time was running out. The questions inside him began rippling. One of them rolled off his tongue.


    ¡°May I know your name?¡± Without a clue, he threw some of his desire at her feet and waited. He no longer wanted to think of her as a stranger. He wanted to weigh her name on his tongue and be sure that next time she would no longer be the stranger from the wheat stall.


    Instead of answering, she dropped what she was doing and looked at him, her brows raised. ¡°Have I done something wrong, Vizier?¡±


    ¡°No, not at all,¡± he raised his hands in defence, ¡°I just wanted to know from whom I buy the wheat for the palace. I like ... to address people by their names.¡±


    His heart pounded, sinking miserably in fear that she would refuse his request. But her confusion receded, and the smile returned to soft features. ¡°Fatrada.¡±


    For a moment, Assou thought he saw the world come to a standstill. Her name nestled in his mind, her brown eyes gleamed in the firelight and the wheat remained in oblivion ¨C until she pushed the sack towards him with difficulty.


    Unbidden, Assou placed a few gold coins in her hands ¨C probably too many ¨C grabbed the linen sack and swung the wheat onto his shoulders with so much force that he could hear it crack in his back. The brief surging pain made him short of breath. But it didn¡¯t matter. The gods could have quartered him in those breaths, he was too mesmerised by the moment that presented itself. Too spellbound by this woman ¨C by Fatrada ¨C for anything else to matter.


    ¡°You are a beautiful woman,¡± he finally dared to say, hoping to win her affection with a few simple words. But she brought only vague astonishment upon herself.


    ¡°I thank you.¡± She tilted her head. ¡°But I ask you to notice that I am married.¡±


    Married. A piece of information that made Assou swallow dryly before averting his eyes and trying to forget the tightness in his chest with deep puffs of air. To think that there was already another man who could see her smile as his, who could whisper her name at night, close to her side, squeezed the air out of him wanly. Still, there were no shortcuts open to him. He couldn¡¯t rely on his post if her heart was to be his.


    Yet it was tempting.


    With his position, it didn¡¯t matter which woman he wanted. Most would have submitted to him willingly, enamoured with being the property of the tjati ¨C and that was where the problem lay. He didn¡¯t want to possess Fatrada. He wanted to win her love, not her body.


    With a sigh, he shook his head, barely perceptible, before giving her one last look. ¡°Understood.¡±


    Then he took his distance and carried the wheat straight back to the palace. He needed a plan. There had to be some way to win Fatrada over. Some option he could determine once he had a few instants to himself ¨C away from the feast that was still blossoming.


    So he took heart. Inhaled once more.


    And heard jewellery rattle.

 Ideas

    It was only a sound. A clink, similar to golden bracelets dangling loosely from the joints of the dancing women and priestesses. Nothing unusual, and yet the unfamiliar sound accompanied him all the way into the palace, where he passed the wheat to a slave. Fatrada faded into the background. Her importance vanished in a breeze of his perception, and when he glanced back at the feast and saw Ramesses in his place, she slipped into oblivion. Just for a moment, as if the greed for her name had been everything.


    The pharaoh¡¯s suddenly inviting gesture directed him back to the table. The tightness in Assou¡¯s chest increased. Still, he bridged the distance to sit down beside his ruler ¨C straight across from Maathorneferure. Her dark eyes sparkled in the flickering glow of the nearby fire goblets; devouring him as if he were an unwanted maggot at the table of nobility. Simultaneously, a honeyed smile lurked on her features, completely unsullied by the mood behind it.


    ¡°Enjoying the feast, my Vizier?¡± Ramesses¡¯ raspy voice snapped Assou out of his observation.


    ¡°It is a lively feast, my Pharaoh. The good mood continues,¡± he replied, Maathorneferure¡¯s rigid stance always in view.


    ¡°That is good to hear.¡± Ramesses joyfully raised his drink, and it was hardly believable that he was still sober. ¡°What do you say, would it be worth our while to allow the slaves a day off tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°As a farce?¡±


    ¡°As a farce,¡± Ramesses confirmed.


    ¡°Only if we pass the word and present it to other countries and cities. It might well benefit us. If the other countries think we treat slaves better than others, and the result ensures that our production and construction remain stable, it could prove, especially in negotiations, that the pharaoh¡¯s decisions aren¡¯t just divine but also humanly generous. This lowers the anxiety of all those who don¡¯t believe that you possess a heart, my Pharaoh.¡± Briefly, Assou put his head back. ¡°It would be worth a try. There can be no negative effects, except for a day of no production.¡±


    ¡°Does it matter?¡± Unasked, Maathorneferure interjected. ¡°We are one of the most powerful countries around. Why should we care what others think? If they don¡¯t submit, we¡¯ll see to it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the point,¡± Assou countered. ¡°We need to strengthen our position without provoking war. We may be powerful, but the gods didn¡¯t give us this land to make us greedy. This land is ours and peace is what we must build on.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed to slits as the corners of her mouth twitched. ¡°Didn¡¯t the gods give us this land to expand? We could make it all our empire.¡±


    ¡°Maathorneferure, be silent!¡± Without further ado, Ramesses raised his hand, not even turning his interest in her direction. To him, she was just another woman, another gem in his chest of mighty riches. ¡°You don¡¯t understand the principles of peace. Better devote yourself to your tasks. Pray to the gods that they may make you fruitful and that we may produce healthy heirs. Now go.¡±


    She opened her mouth, but silence overpowered her every word. What remained was a contemptuous snort as she rose. ¡°Of course, my Pharaoh.¡±


    ¡°Women. Some of them meddle in matters they possess no knowledge of,¡± Ramesses II continued. ¡°But she is a bringer of peace and has been blessed by the gods with exceptional beauty. Let her ignorance be forgiven.¡±


    Her features did indeed seem like the work of the gods, created to fuel wars and spread chaos. A trap they had to keep a watchful eye on. Still, he nodded to his king¡¯s approval. ¡°The marriage has ensured that her magnificence will be known throughout the land.¡±


    ¡°It will. Splendour and grace will bring unity. One might believe that she indeed carries the blood of the gods. She will bear powerful sons.¡± The lightness in Ramesses¡¯ words made his statement desirable. Even when considering Maathorneferure¡¯s character.


    ¡°When do you intend to take a wife, my Vizier?¡± Again, his Pharaoh changed the subject, letting the curiosity of his dull days drift into awkward questions. ¡°You are a rich man of status. Is there no woman to arouse your desire? I have heard rumours you are dissatisfied with the choice. Yet fine women have their eyes on you.¡±


    Barely noticeably, Assou averted his gaze. The only woman he was interested in was married. ¡°I have already given my wish to the gods. But they gave me a test to pass.¡±


    ¡°I trust your words.¡± His king¡¯s slow nod faded into the background.


    The conversation had turned Assou¡¯s thoughts in the wrong direction. Racking his brains over Fatrada and her life while a feast of good cheer coursed across the city was nothing but wasted time. There was nothing he could do. Nothing that would make these breaths successful all at once. Setting her aside, well guarded, and letting the tightness rest in his chest was wiser. That which occupied the back of his mind wasn¡¯t what he should be doing.


    In this life, he had wasted his chance.


    Inwardly, he shook his head. Letting her go was as impossible as escaping the pharaoh. She was the first woman who had ever occupied his thoughts. The first person who had triggered a throbbing in his chest that he couldn¡¯t resist.


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    Resting his chin on one hand, Assou let his imagination carry him away, into fragrant rooms and forgotten fields where golden reeds grew metres high to the gods. The words of the people passed. It no longer needed language. No one could hear him, but everyone could see him.


    ¡°Assou!¡± Harsh, Ramesses snapped the placid image in two and brought the meal back to the fore. The babble of voices that had seemed so void before clung to the vizier¡¯s nerves once more. ¡°Do you hear?¡±


    ¡°Forgive me, my Pharaoh. I was in thought.¡±


    ¡°About the slaves?¡±


    He couldn¡¯t help but raise his brows and wait before nodding slowly. Not listening to Ramesses was dangerous. He wasn¡¯t an impulsive man, but his trust was at least as fickle as his moods in locked solitude. When he spoke, it was necessary to hang on his lips, no matter how trivial the matter. So the tjati nodded once more.


    ¡°Is there already a plan to replace the missing slaves?¡±


    The sigh on Assou¡¯s lips faltered. It was a tiresome subject to avoid. The heat pushed the forced labourers to their knees, killing them as if it were the only mercy they were allowed. Many were consumed in short nights; inflammation spread the pungent smell of rotten flesh and the food rations were so meagre that weakness ate through the bones of the youngest. If he wanted to keep the pharaoh satisfied, fresh blood had to be thrust into the heat of the land ¨C another task to which Assou could only devote himself with half a heart. Most of these people deserved better than life among stone, heat and dead comrades.


    ¡°It is time to take the children of the poorest villages. The young ones, of course. All those who are no good for the fields,¡± Assou continued, drawn out. ¡°Most families will thank you when they have fewer mouths to feed.¡±


    ¡°Wise words,¡± agreed Ramesses. ¡°Take care of it. We will take what we need from places that can consider it a blessing and an honour.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, my Pharaoh. Now, if you will excuse me.¡± With a curt bow, Assou rose. The bite of the wine bathed the conversation in pale oblivion and for a few steps, he thought his feet couldn¡¯t follow a straight line. His body swayed, his world spun, and no matter how he turned his head, people formed into unsteady dents.


    Still, he reached the palace without stumbling.


    The slaves were handling the high-ranking guests outside the protective four walls and only two messengers, who had settled on the stairs and were tugging at their hard bread, stayed out of the chaos. Assou took the moment to order one of them to pass on Ramesses¡¯ word to the slave overseers before stepping out into the hallway.


    The light from the fire bowls still drew far too long shadows across the walls. But this time they led the way for him and none of them were big enough to belong to the third Great Royal Queen. The only mercy his wavering spirit truly grasped.


    Half in a trance, he tucked Maathorneferure¡¯s existence away in the back of his mind. Her importance sank. Her words were only a distant mumble in the face of his unsteady figure; and by the time he reached his workroom, at the latest, she was forgotten. His lungs filled with air once more. The feast beaded from his shoulders and somewhere in front of the table he had so indecently loaded with papyrus rolls, he took a seat. But the momentum as he lowered himself to the floor, and the delightful twists of the shelves on the walls, jerked him backwards onto the hard stone. The ceiling lingered motionless above him.


    His thoughts allowed themselves to roam the worlds outside his body, to follow the rush before they lingered on the warm, soft eyes of Fatrada. Her gentle smile and oval face, framed by warm strands that danced to the evening sun, made the images behind closed eyes tangible. He thought he perceived her scent, though he had never come close enough to smell her.


    The way her cheeks stood out when she laughed gave her brown skin an enchanting glow. That all these idiosyncrasies had already lured another man to her side was understandable. It was so terribly obvious that Assou couldn¡¯t suppress the wry smile. He was a fool. A fool who had actually believed that a woman like her would wait for someone like him.


    The sigh on his lips weighed heavily as he turned to the side, trying to find a more comfortable position. The throbbing in his chest that sent sharp pinpricks through his body clung to Fatrada. It fought back against his mind ¨C against the understanding of having to let her go. Instead, it pushed ideas into his mind. Plans he didn¡¯t want to make and yet took possession of him like a dream. All at once, all he had to do was get rid of Fatrada¡¯s man.


    Snorting, Assou picked himself up again. Knowing Fatrada in the hands of another twisted every good thought.


    Legs bent, he braced himself on his hands to move, to stand up safely. But before he could support his weight, the door to his study creaked open. The wood opened a crack, letting a bland glow of light enter the darkness of his room ¨C followed closely by silent paws that settled a few steps beyond the entrance.


    Amenti¡¯s black fur shone as she lifted her paws and slid her tongue gently over the darkness. She looked as if she had done a job; a good deed that Assou couldn¡¯t see. Until, all at once, a slave burst in and held out his hands to the cat. His hasty movements startled the animal, causing it to leap onto the table in one bound. The slave, meanwhile, stumbled and fell. The hiss on his lips was hardly more than a whisper, and when Assou raised his hand to inquire if all was well, the shock went through the boy¡¯s body as well.


    ¡°Vizier, forgive the inconvenience!¡± Still on his knees, he bowed and slammed his forehead on the floor. ¡°I do not wish to disturb you. I saw the cat running around and going into other people¡¯s rooms, so I wanted to catch it and bring it to Queen Meritamen.¡± He raised his head. ¡°But she is a swift creature.¡±


    Assou didn¡¯t listen at all. Instead, he eyed the child¡¯s slender body and frowned. ¡°Are you a slave or a messenger?¡±


    ¡°A messenger who recently passed on a message to the guards,¡± the boy replied. ¡°Is there anything I can do?¡±


    It was as if the gods had sent him this boy to solve the problem in his mind.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you some gold coins if you get me some information,¡± Assou began slowly. The boy¡¯s eyes widened, curiosity rose, and all interest fell away from the cat to attach itself to the tjati¡¯s lips. ¡°Find a woman by the name of Fatrada. She is a young wheat seller. On top, she is married. I want you to shadow this woman¡¯s husband and inform me of everything he does. But don¡¯t get caught.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, Vizier!¡± With another deep bow, the boy obliged and left the room. Assou remained behind. The cat was no longer there. The manageable mess it had left behind remained uninteresting, and sleep ate away at his thoughts. He could do nothing more than wait. Until the boy brought news, he had to do his chores and forget about Fatrada. Her and everything else that weighed on his nerves.


    So he lay down once more and accepted the darkness that had remained. Only the dull light of the outside world shimmered through a hole in the wall. The noise of the celebrating guests barely reached him. And when he closed his eyelids, he was greeted by the smile of a woman in whose arms he wanted to perish.

 Stimuli -1-

    The scent of sweet pomegranates woke him. Soft rustling reached his ears, and the distant hum of a woman¡¯s voice cradled him in her arms. The eternity behind its sound made him motionless. But the fluttering of his eyelids brought broken light into the darkness of his dreams. The new day had bathed his room in a businesslike glow, the papyrus found itself neatly stacked on the table and the night he could only vaguely remember had faded away.


    What remained was the enslaved woman above him ¨C Dinem. Her oval face was the first thing he noticed clearly. The play between light and shadow on her skin bathed her in unreality, and yet she was there. She was real.


    ¡°You are awake, Vizier.¡± Her words brought with them the sound of morning ¨C light as a breeze brushing through the fields ¨C so that Assou sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The sigh on his lips tugged at his shoulders and Dinem¡¯s lead-framed gaze eyed him with the curiosity of a cat.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± His question escaped tonelessly before he shook his head. ¡°My manners... Good morning.¡±


    ¡°Good morning,¡± she replied, half-lidded. ¡°I am here to warn you,¡± she then explained. ¡°Maathorneferure cannot stand you. You have made yourself very unpopular.¡±


    ¡°She told you?¡± Without further ado, Assou slumped.


    ¡°She went on about how she¡¯s going to make your lives miserable because you disobeyed her orders.¡± Dinem shrugged. ¡°She sees no value in you as a vizier.¡±


    ¡°What that woman does and doesn¡¯t see isn¡¯t one of my problems.¡± Snorting, he pulled his feet into a cross-legged position. Resting his arms on his knees, he craned his neck and stroked one hand over the short, full beard that framed his lower jaw to his upper lip. The strain in his throat made him take a deep breath. ¡°She has no clue about politics and would drive our country into the abyss with her half-knowledge if she had to make even one of my decisions. If she thinks she can do better than me, she should have offered herself as Vizier and not as Great Royal Queen.¡±


    ¡°Women weren¡¯t made to create policy. Or to sit around a table with men and talk about the future of a country. That¡¯s not our job,¡± Dinem objected. Hands folded in her lap, she bowed her head. ¡°We are the creatures who keep you sane and simultaneously rob you of your senses. And since we understand little of other things, we are prone to make mistakes. That is why Maathorneferure wants our Pharaoh to decide on his own. He is the most powerful man in the land and is in contact with the gods. She doesn¡¯t understand why it needs you to keep this country in order. She is in a position where she thinks she has to understand things she wasn¡¯t made to understand.¡± Slowly, she raised her head. ¡°Of course, I don¡¯t see it that way.¡±


    With a snort, he noted her explanation before returning her gaze. He didn¡¯t want to deal with Maathorneferure as the first problem of the day. Not when he had better things to do than grasp the ideology of a dissatisfied woman. So he waved it off.


    ¡°Thank you for letting me know.¡± A curt gesture directed her to leave. ¡°But I¡¯d be glad to have some time for myself now.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± she returned with a smile. ¡°Whatever you desire.¡±


    As she stood up and removed herself from his room with a curt bow, Assou took the newfound freedom to breathe. Then he weighed Dinem¡¯s words.


    Maathorneferure held no power in this court. She was a part of Ramesses. Nothing more, nothing less. Neither did she rule, nor did she have the authority to decide for the people of the land or the palace. That made it easy to overlook her existence and move on to the important things.


    Groaning, he pulled himself to his feet. The morning routine drove him across the palace to one of the small bathrooms. The water he washed with was cold; the breakfast in his study was rich, though lonely. Nothing differed from the days he usually spent. It was only when he sat down at his low table, still piled high with writings, and went through a few of the treaties between Egypt and incoming merchants, that he thought he was right where he belonged. Surrounded by work, there was no place to rack his brains.


    But when two messengers paused in his doorway, carrying fresh papyrus, Assou detached himself from his work. His gaze slid to children barely older than the boy he had entrusted with shadowing Fatrada¡¯s man; perhaps fourteen, by the looks of their erect posture and tall stature. Their bare torsos were dirty, and sweat had left stains on the simple shendyts.


    ¡°Speak.¡± With a nod, he gestured to the other side of the table, causing one boy to step forward and settle on his knees. His head lowered so that his forehead touched the floor.


    ¡°Vizier, I have received word that other countries have set their eyes on us. All those close to Egypt have turned their attention to us since the pharaoh announced the slaves would get a day off.¡± He raised his head. ¡°I was told to let you know this.¡±


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    Without further ado, the second messenger also joined them and went down on his knees. There were countless grains of sand stuck to his body, which simultaneously settled deep in his black hair as if he had been caught in a sandstorm. ¡°I too bring news in connection with the slaves. The day off was accepted with joy, but there was a storm south of the country. The slaves had to stop their work already yesterday. They aren¡¯t sure of the damage done yet, but some tools were destroyed and a few stones fell from the structure and broke.¡±


    Assou¡¯s lips narrowed with each word. The sandstorm spoiled the planning, drove Ramesses¡¯ wishes into the background, and tested the pharaoh¡¯s patience. One of the sore points of his eternal boredom. When it involved his buildings, time was the greatest burden of all concerned.


    ¡°I thank you,¡± Assou replied languidly before rising and gesturing for the messengers to leave. It took a moment for both boys to pick themselves up and hurry out of the room. Their feet pattered on the floor.


    Assou gave them a head start before making his way to Ramesses, who was in the great hall ¨C as befitted a king ¨C firmly entrenched on his throne, intent on listening to the woes of his people and not acting. The tjati¡¯s hasty footsteps echoed off the walls, though each footfall rumbled dully in his ears. The shadow that stalked him on the floor caught in the cracks. Urgency ate through his pores but stopped when he caught sight of the round eyes of a black cat.


    ¡°You again.¡± Instantly, the tjati stopped. He eyed her posture, the slight twitch of her tail, before crouching down and reaching out to touch her. ¡°You were in my study yesterday.¡±


    She mewed, but remained seated in her position. One of her paws lifted as if to hint something to him, but lowered it again in the next blink of an eye. Then she stood up and turned away, taking the same path Assou had to follow.


    The hall opened up before him hardly later, rising like an endless sky above the once-built pillars. Ramesses sat on his throne, as expected, listening to the words of a young man. Resting his head in one hand, boredom hung oppressively in the room. Not even the pleading on the stranger¡¯s lips could combat the listlessness that stretched up the walls. Assou took advantage of the moment. Nimbly, he darted up the steps to the pharaoh and fell to his knees beside the throne. Immediately, news of the messengers escaped him whisper-quietly.


    ¡°I see,¡± Ramesses noted grumblingly. ¡°See to it. I want the delay to be as short as possible.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, my Pharaoh.¡± With a deep bow, Assou took his distance before turning and making his way down the steps once more. The young man hadn¡¯t stopped talking for a second, and even out of the corner of his eye, hope seemed to support that he wasn¡¯t just making conversation with the void.


    Still, the haste eclipsed the hall. Ramesses had perceived the problems with the same impenetrable facade as most other things thrown at his feet. His interest was taken. His unwillingness made him quiet. And yet it was only a matter of time before the circumstances would seem too long for him. The slaves had to be ordered to work even in the storm. The surrounding countries weren¡¯t allowed to find out. They had to present their slaves as durable and productive. Not as easily breakable tools that didn¡¯t know how to please the pharaoh.


    He stopped in the middle of the corridor. There were messages he had to prepare and record the events. He would be expected in his chamber all day and there would be no fresh breeze. The work would suffocate him.


    Therefore, he turned hesitantly. He had only to follow the passage further down and he would stride out of the palace. For the sake of a break. There needed to be a light between the shadows in which he could lose himself. He had to take the freedom to see her. Just for a moment.


    His legs started moving faster than the idea could take hold of his mind. Hope surged in every movement of his body and as the burning morning sun hit his tanned skin, he thought he had arrived in paradise ¨C even if it was utter nonsense. Egypt hadn¡¯t changed. It was still the same country as it had been the day before. No one had changed anything in the last rays of the sun.


    Still, Assou thought his legs were progressing more easily. His body moved fluidly like water, finding its way into the crowd that moved out of his path or made way for him. Apart from the traders, no one wanted to stop the tjati. It was only because of this that he reached his destination faster than he had hoped, and when he caught sight of Fatrada¡¯s enchanting smile, not even the heat of the country reached him anymore. The sudden flutter under his skin nestled into his consciousness and made him silently step closer to her.


    ¡°Have you come to buy more wheat, or to dare a conversation?¡± Brows raised, her attention turned in his direction. The twitch of the corners of her mouth mocked. A little like he wasn¡¯t one of the most powerful men in the country, but just a little boy.


    ¡°Both,¡± Assou replied tersely. Hands clasped, he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He had to look like a leaf in the wind, caught in gusts that made her laugh. She was the light of this city. To him. Even when she was preparing a small sack of wheat and handing it over. He paid half in thought.


    ¡°You said you were married last time,¡± he then began slowly. It was supposed to sound casual, but he sensed the rough sound of his voice. ¡°But he is never seen with you at the stall.¡±


    ¡°You just come at the wrong time, Vizier. He works in the fields to harvest what we sell. In the evening, he comes home to help me clean up.¡± She put a hand on the linen sacks she held neatly stacked. ¡°You would have to come in the evening to meet him. I think you would appreciate a man like him.¡±


    The gods loved their games and, though he would have preferred to utter a few curses, Assou put on a smile. ¡°That would please me. Acquaintances are valuable resources.¡±


    ¡°I will give him word. He will be pleased to hold a conversation with a man like you.¡± She bowed in humility and simultaneously clarified with a shooing gesture of her hand that he should leave. As the pharaoh¡¯s right-hand man, he kept the submissive clientele away.


    Sometimes that was exactly what made Egypt lonely. There were more people who avoided him than those who spoke to him. Fatrada was one of the miraculous exceptions.


    With hesitant steps, he took a distance from the stall before turning and tucking the sack firmly under one arm. The path he was given led straight back to the palace. He wasn¡¯t even given the freedom of a diversion. The people knew the quickest way, and they figured that was exactly what he wanted.

 Stimuli -2-

    The inner walls of the palace enveloped him in reverent silence hardly later. Amidst the rock, nothing but work remained for him. Business he had to attend to before time ran out. The sigh stuck like honey to Assou¡¯s lips and threatened to drag him to the ground as a boy detached himself from the shadows and bowed humbly. ¡°Vizier, I have news.¡±


    It was the child he had appointed to Fatrada¡¯s man¡¯s heels. The fields weren¡¯t far away and though it felt like merely a brief breeze in the wind, much more time must have passed already.


    With a throwing away hand gesture, Assou hinted they would speak in another place. But he could barely put one foot in front of the other before the rustle of gold jewellery made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. There was a tinkling, rustling of cloth, and when he caught sight of Maathorneferure in the company of two female slaves, his shoulders sagged.


    Dark brown hair braided over one side, decorated with colourful threads down to her chest, it was the beige fabric of her calasiris that momentarily captivated Assou¡¯s attention. Golden chains adorned graceful curves and brought shiny, colourful gems to the fore. It twisted a woman¡¯s beauty and made her dangerous in the face of a mere human.


    ¡°How simple.¡± Scorn drew on her features as she gallantly folded her arms in front of her chest and paused in one spot. Her bare feet were adorned with chains. ¡°A sack of wheat. Probably from the same woman who served you at the feast.¡± She snorted. ¡°Do you really think a vizier, the Pharaoh¡¯s sworn right-hand man, should desire a simple woman? And not only does she have no status, she¡¯s married, I hear.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware that women of wealth had increased value compared to those who work for our country.¡± Wrinkling his nose, Assou tilted his head before turning away and moving ¨C straight past the Third Great Royal Queen as if she were just a spoilt child in the middle of too much splendour.


    Probably it was true. She was just a woman. Not a goddess, not a piece of gold, just one of many ¨C even if her appearance dazzled, and some considered her more perfect than she was.


    Maathorneferure let him go. She didn¡¯t bother to stop him, though Assou kept every muscle in his body tense so he could turn to her if she demanded it. She didn¡¯t give a damn. Not in these breaths, where they both remained unpredictable in their own unique way.


    With the messenger in tow, Assou took refuge in his study, far from prying eyes and uncertain glances. Settling on the floor behind the low table, the messenger knelt on the other side to bow once more before Assou gestured for him to speak.


    ¡°Vizier, I sought the woman Fatrada¡¯s husband and found him in the wheat fields. I watched him and he did his work with conscience.¡± He paused for effect. ¡°Then I went to the other field workers and asked them about this man. They told me that this man, Nagib, that¡¯s his name, is a good man. Helps the old and the weak, shares with children, often gushes about his wife, to whom he has been married for a year. So I went on.¡± With a hand gesture, the boy made it clear he had travelled a long distance. ¡°I asked neighbours and acquaintances, but they all gave me the same answer: the man Nagib is a good man. I told them about crimes, but they said I made all that up, which is true. They believe him. So it must be true.¡±


    Unwillingly, Assou clicked his tongue. Of course, he should hardly have expected anything else. There was no negative point about this stranger and he couldn¡¯t win Fatrada over if her husband was desirable and honest. If she loved him for those qualities, there was no hope.


    ¡°Vizier, what shall I do now?¡± Helplessly, the messenger slid around on his legs, causing Assou to take a deep breath. He hadn¡¯t yet considered all the possibilities, and Nagib hadn¡¯t yet proved himself a good man for Fatrada.


    ¡°Continue to shadow him and report to me regularly should anything happen. Daily at best. He may allow himself a misstep in front of you.¡± Nimbly, Assou slid two gold pieces across the table. ¡°Take care not to be seen.¡±


    A knowing nod was all the boy could bring himself to do before he jumped up and tried to hurry out the door ¨C almost doomed to collide with another. The scrawny, strange boy dodged and staggered into Assou¡¯s study in a few steps before falling to his knees and gasping for air. The other disappeared into the hallway.


    ¡°Vizier, I bring news.¡± He coughed. ¡°I barely got halfway to the slaves before the message caught up with me. But it is not within my power to tell you of it. You are to appear before the almighty Pharaoh.¡±


    How much bad news was one allowed to receive in one day? Again he gestured to the child opposite him to leave, watching as the scrawny figure disappeared. Then he took the freedom to put his head in his hands and breathe. Nothing went as he had hoped. There was no good news and whatever had happened to the slaves, he didn¡¯t want to know. But it was his job to make the right decisions while Ramesses went about his work ¨C even if his duties passed insignificantly in everyday life. So Assou tugged his robe into place and rose to his feet to answer his ruler¡¯s call.


    His bare feet made pattering sounds as he hurried across the warm stone to reach the king¡¯s hall. Ramesses was still sitting on his throne listening to the woes of his people ¨C the boredom had remained.


    Next to his Pharaoh, Assou found a place to lean down and listen to the words that came over him like a flood. ¡°You must think of something.¡±


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    Uncertainly, Assou¡¯s brows drew together. ¡°To what exactly, my Pharaoh?¡±


    ¡°The slaves are on strike. They don¡¯t care enough for the kindness I show them, and now they don¡¯t want to work any longer.¡± Ramesses snorted. ¡°I would suggest having them all killed.¡±


    ¡°That would be a delicate loss, my Pharaoh,¡± Assou interjected. ¡°If we have all the slaves killed, it will take time to create enough replacements. Your wishes would be drastically delayed.¡±


    ¡°What do you suggest?¡±


    Negotiating with the slaves would have been ridiculous. They were human beings, and they wanted to be treated as such. A request that neither Ramesses nor the gods approved of. To give them more than the messengers of the world had promised them offered potential for conflict. To have them killed, however, was a loss they couldn¡¯t bear. To have someone killed at all had the wasteful flavour of a decision he wanted to avoid. Simultaneously, it was a process he had been taught from an early age: the value of a slave was less than that of a gold piece.


    ¡°I propose,¡± Assou began slowly, ¡°that we have two of the slaves executed in front of the others. None of the old ones, because they may have finished with their lives, and none of the young, healthy men.¡±


    ¡°Preferably the ones who started this uprising,¡± Ramesses expanded. ¡°But how do we get it out of them?¡±


    ¡°Offer the traitors an extra meal.¡± It was the easiest option. The slaves¡¯ food was meagre and no one would turn down another bowl. At least not if they had any sense.


    ¡°So be it.¡± A dismissive wave of Ramesses¡¯ hand blessed the idea. ¡°See to it.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡± Half of Assou¡¯s perception was still glued to Fatrada¡¯s husband. The rest worried about the slaves. If they didn¡¯t buckle, they would die and the children, who had no future in the eyes of the higher ranks, would have to fill their places. Small bodies that were only half as efficient as the body of a grown man. Weak, tiny hands that would disappoint Ramesses.


    The sigh on Assou¡¯s lips didn¡¯t lighten. Instead, his legs rushed, as they often did, to his study. But his room didn¡¯t greet him with secluded solitude. Instead, the feline eyes of a female slave gazed back at him, gallantly seated on his desk.


    ¡°Dinem, what are you doing here?¡± He raised his brows. The plain calasiris on her body suited her better than most women.


    When she brushed her black hair, which didn¡¯t quite reach her shoulder, behind her ear, it was the shimmer of the outside world that enchanted him. In those breaths, she had more of a queen than Maathorneferure. ¡°I have to remind you that you should take a bath. It has been days since the last one. If it pleases you, I will come with you to wash your back.¡±


    He probably hadn¡¯t seen water for days. The last few weeks had been full of preparations for the marriage and the last few days he had sacrificed every spare minute for Fatrada. But she wouldn¡¯t want him if he was dirty. No one would. So he nodded and turned on his heel.


    The hasty footsteps didn¡¯t leave him and when Assou arrived in the bathroom, the stress seemed to roll over his lips in a gasp. The gleam on the surface of the water banished him for a moment, however, before he found the senses to take a breath and undress.


    Dinem reached the room only after he had already climbed into the warm water and washed his arms in half oblivion. In her hands she held fresh clothes, which she placed on an empty stone pedestal before also discarding her fabrics. It was nothing out of the ordinary. He had probably seen every other slave naked, but Dinem had an idiosyncratic way of removing her clothes. Her movements were slow, sinuous and sensual, as if she were a lost part of Kematef. Simultaneously, she looked at him, not taking her eyes off him for a breath, while the well-formed curves of her body came to light.


    Assou¡¯s awareness grazed her breasts, which would more than fill his hands. The curve of her hips remained enticing, wide and unyielding, like her thighs, whose soft flesh didn¡¯t lack mass. She was well-fed and yet not too much ¨C though clearly more than Fatrada.


    He lowered his gaze.


    Even in those seconds, the friendly smile of the wheat seller didn¡¯t leave him at peace.


    When Dinem slipped into the water, Assou was already lost in his thoughts. The country was burning under the heat and yet it didn¡¯t come close to the fire that was raging between the fronts. Other countries watched Egypt, and the slaves fought back some days more than others. The gods had given them so much, and yet no one was grateful.


    He winced as Dinem pressed a wet piece of linen to his back.


    ¡°What are you thinking of, Vizier?¡± Her honey soft voice lulled him. Talking about the problems of his world couldn¡¯t hurt; not on days like these.


    ¡°The land,¡± he replied. ¡°There are so many problems on our sand and stone that I wonder how Ramesses will solve all of them.¡±


    She brushed her fingers over his chest. Her hands were warmer than the water and her fingertips left a tingling trail on his skin. ¡°It is you who must solve these problems, my Vizier. The pharaoh only keeps his watchful eye on the land and blesses your decisions. But at the end, Egypt is your land to rule.¡±


    ¡°You talk a lot for a woman.¡± Inevitably, Maathorneferure, who lacked any sense of politics, came to his mind. ¡°Do you even know what you are saying?¡±


    He wanted to glance over his shoulder, but Dinem gave him no room. Instead, she pressed herself against him. Her soft body nestled against his back, spreading closeness as her arms wrapped around his torso, stealing his freedom. She rested her head on his shoulder. She too seemed to want to let the soul rest in those seconds; for a few quick breaths.


    ¡°I know that,¡± she said finally. ¡°I watch you and all the others in this palace, and I know what you do.¡± Her lips nestled against his ear. Hot breath crept into his hearing. ¡°I don¡¯t understand the world of politics, but I understand how some of these things work and I see how hard your work is.¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡± It took only a jerk to break away from her. Her quiet words didn¡¯t improve the circumstances, but at least they conveyed that he and his work could be seen. That was good enough. At least at that moment, when he put distance between himself and Dinem and dived under.


    His hands rubbed through his hair, his body felt more alive, and when he ultimately stepped out of the bath, it was the soothing scent of rose oil that put the finishing touches on his body. Dinem, meanwhile, remained standing in her place. The water lapped against her skin in shallow waves, and her eyes followed every movement of his naked body.


    Her eyes didn¡¯t break from him even as he wrapped himself in the clothes she had brought him; a tunic with light blue accents that was one of the few fabrics of his possession in which colour prevailed. Paired with a beige shendyt that reached a little below his knees and sat so loosely that he had to wrap it tighter than usual.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he ultimately addressed Dinem once more and gave her a wan smile before turning and leaving.

 Change -1-

    The steady order kept him chained to one point. His senses were stuck. He hadn¡¯t been able to see Fatrada for fourteen endless days, and he avoided Dinem as much as Maathorneferure. The papyrus scrolls smothered his study, and the messengers came and went daily.


    Negative news cluttered his senses and while Ramesses only listened, Assou was left with finding solutions. Most of it he got right. The storm on one front had died down, the slaves were working again and although an entire week had passed since the execution of the rebels, the demands weren¡¯t lessening.


    Propping himself up backwards with his hands, he allowed a brief pause in which an air pocket finally appeared. In those seconds, there was nothing urging him. No records to keep up with and no messengers nipping at his heels. It was peace he could savour and yet restlessness that didn¡¯t give him much time.


    Outside, among the people and offers, between the crowd they were looking out for, Fatrada was waiting for him. At least she knew he existed, knew he desired her and also knew he wouldn¡¯t admit defeat. Ramesses certainly still had a lot of work to do. The matter of the slaves needed to be watched, and perhaps it would even be beneficial if he took the time to see to it. Experiencing the circumstances could grant a new perspective.


    Barely noticeably, he shook his head. The slaves didn¡¯t matter. They were as unimportant as Maathorneferure, whose poisonous gaze would eventually wither the rare plants she had brought from her land. Her beauty was nothing more than a facade that stood protectively in front of her ugly character.


    With a dismissive wave of his hand, Assou shooed the thought away and slowly picked himself up to his feet. As long as no new tasks came crashing down on him, he could spend the brief moments of peace with Fatrada; with her smile and gentle features. His shuffling steps took him straight to the adjoining corridor of his room. Only the whisper of a few slaves seemed to echo along the walls. It pierced the silence and yet remained only a simple background murmur that deserved no further attention.


    Assou turned away, following the floor tiles to the exit, where the sun blazed and the ground burned beneath his bare feet. It wasn¡¯t a day to agonise over shoes, no special occasion. He was just a man going to see a woman. A man on his way to buy wheat.


    Still, the heat nestled uncomfortably against his soles and the sweat that formed under his robes clung the fabrics to his skin. No matter how long one lived under this sun, some days would never become the norm. The tingling on his skin turned to a slight itch on his legs as dust and sand stuck to him. But instead of stopping, Assou pushed the feeling to the back of his mind.


    Straight through the crowds, followed by watchful eyes that recognised him and took a step to the side, Assou pushed his way to the wheat stand, but there was no one waiting. The emptiness greeted him with a silent smile and the heaviness that made his shoulders slump bore a resemblance to lack of sleep and working too hard without getting something in return. She wasn¡¯t there. Her soft voice held no greeting for him. Only the wheat stared at him.


    Without further ado, Assou looked around. Leaving the sacks standing around unguarded invited theft, and a simple woman couldn¡¯t stop a full-grown man from running off. Most people kept a low profile and there was always a helping hand. But if one didn¡¯t guard their goods, the blame didn¡¯t necessarily lie with the thief. Unattended goods remained tempting. A sack of wheat could be used for many things.


    Carefully, Assou¡¯s eyes settled back on the goods. Perhaps if he simply took a sack, he would find Fatrada. Maybe she would then emerge from the crowd and speak to him in a reproving voice, while he left her a compliment with a smile. But when he raised his hand to put his fingers to the old linen, it was the heavy paw of a man that made him stop. His body flinched. His attention tore away from the wheat to glance backwards ¨C straight into the soft brown eyes of a man who towered over him by two heads.


    His mouth opened as his gaze slid along Assou¡¯s figure, and at the same moment, he let go and took a step back. With a curt bow, his words weren¡¯t what Assou had imagined in his dreams. Neither were they reproving, nor from Fatrada.


    ¡°Vizier, forgive me for not recognising you.¡± He bowed a little lower. ¡°Take what you wish.¡±


    Defensively, Assou raised his hands. Sometimes the post of vizier was anything but a blessing. ¡°I actually wanted to buy a sack. But the stall was unattended. So I thought I¡¯d lay hands on it, hoping someone might come,¡± he replied slowly before lowering his palms. ¡°I am surprised. Usually, a woman sells her wares in this place.¡±


    ¡°You must be talking about my wife, Fatrada,¡± the stranger replied before lifting his gaze. Assou took the moment to gesture for him to stand, and his counterpart gave him a thin smile as he complied with the request. ¡°My work in the field is cancelled today. There is a boy learning the craft in my place and he is of hardworking nature. So I took the work from my wife for her to enjoy the day differently.¡±


    ¡°I see...¡± It was hard to take the eyes off this man.


    He was a person of simple nature. Thin yet visibly accustomed to hard work, his naked torso was so darkly tanned that he stood out among his countrymen. His skin must have felt like leather and his short black hair was not clean. Sand had caught in tangled strands, dirt stuck to his fingers and reached under his nails. Even his clothes looked worn and tattered. He was a man of the field through and through, who only got clean late at night to look exactly the same again the next day.


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    But he didn¡¯t seem to mind. This stranger had accepted his life, and the gleam in his eyes expressed a kind of joy that most people in the upper ranks lacked. This man had found happiness, and Assou didn¡¯t doubt for a moment that this happiness was called Fatrada.


    ¡°What is your name?¡± Distracted by his own thoughts, the tjati searched for answers that would fill in at least a small part of the gaps in his mind. He had to feel his way in. Slowly and carefully, to find out who this person really was. Even if he had to relearn the knowledge he had already gained.


    ¡°Nagib, my lord.¡± Much too slowly, he moved to stand by his wheat.


    ¡°Now then, Nagib, would you sell me a sack of wheat?¡± He didn¡¯t have to ask. Of course, he would be sold this silly sack. But it made the circumstances friendlier and though Assou wanted to curse every breath in this man¡¯s presence, he remained civilised.


    ¡°Of course!¡± Nagib¡¯s glare seemed to make the sun shine a little brighter and as he picked out the best sack, he looked like a happy child who had finally achieved something in his life.


    He differed completely from Assou. He possessed the same endearing nature that Fatrada had about her. That was probably why they were together. Perhaps that made Nagib an excellent man for her.


    The saliva in Assou¡¯s throat tasted bland all at once. Something seemed to twist behind his chest and for a moment, he couldn¡¯t help wrinkling his nose. But he caught himself quickly ¨C long before Nagib turned around and handed him a sack, which Assou accepted with a false smile.


    He couldn¡¯t let himself be fooled. Just because this man had a friendly facade and seemed a little like Fatrada, it didn¡¯t make him a good person. On top, it was almost reprehensible that a woman like Fatrada had chosen a man who had nothing more to offer than his dirty self and a bright smile. She deserved better. More.


    With difficulty, Assou swallowed his displeasure. He knew he shouldn¡¯t react this way. He was a vizier ¨C always thoughtful and capable of doing his duties well. Jealousy was the last thing that qualified as a part of him. In the end, it would only make him as ugly as Maathorneferure¡¯s spitting words. As long as he knew nothing about Nagib, the only thing he could do was show kindness.


    But his hands trembled as he accepted the wheat and his smile crumbled barely a moment later. What remained was the rigid grimace that had been carved in stone once before as a memento.


    ¡°I thank you,¡± was all he could bring himself to say before he turned away and sought the distance. Everything in him wanted to get away from that stall, away from that man who was twisting his insides and making his stomach bubble like someone was drowning in there. All this left no room for clear thoughts that threatened to slide off the cliff into ugliness.


    His feet only carried him a few houses before he turned and leaned against a wall. The wheat sack fell to the floor as he took a breath, sweat soaking into the dusty ground in dark drops. Nausea twisted his senses. It was the first time something had so bitterly squeezed his throat and also forced him into a position of always having to think of something else without finding satisfaction. The heat of the country had probably driven him mad. But the pain in his stomach area hinted at spoiled food.


    When was the last time he had eaten?


    No thought was good enough, and the discontent grew. The hunger that welled up inside him all at once made every blink more exhausting and the restlessness in his limbs greater. Behind it lurked ideas he couldn¡¯t control. Imaginations that grew with every breath. Images in which he envisioned how easy it would be to get rid of Nagib. Throwing him off a cliff had charm. Exploiting his power as vizier, however, didn¡¯t.


    He was a righteous man, just like Nagib. Fatrada had chosen the man she knew made her happy. Nothing about all this was wrong. It was perfectly normal, and yet-


    Again, he shook his head and swallowed the pain in his chest. Oxygen hung heavy on his thin lips and the urge to move didn¡¯t allow him a steady breath. He didn¡¯t know how to stand. The floor seemed unbearably hot and the clothes on his body itched to the depths of his nerves. Tingling and suffocating, as if he would burn up if he didn¡¯t rip the fabrics from his body to let fresh air reach the sore spots that didn¡¯t exist. It burned. Throbbed. Reached from his shoulders to his ankles, forcing Assou to slap his hands to his face.


    The sound at least awakened some of his senses, and the pain on his cheeks eclipsed the rest a little. He had to take a breath. Catch himself and let the feeling in his guts that ran like ants over his senses fade.


    Then a shiver came over him. In the middle of this heat, it was so refreshingly cold that Assou shivered before letting his gaze wander and linger on the bag of wheat. On him and on Amenti. Her green eyes were glued to him, mute and judgmental, as if she knew exactly what was going on inside him. It drove a wry smile onto his features before he went to his knees and gingerly reached out to her. Her black fur nuzzled his hands barely a moment later, and the audible mewl left her tiny muzzle comfortingly.


    ¡°How can I be so pathetic, huh?¡± Carefully, he stroked the animal¡¯s fur. ¡°I¡¯m a vizier. The right hand of the pharaoh. And yet I¡¯m not in control of my head or my heart. That¡¯s unusual.¡± He snorted. ¡°What¡¯s the matter with me?¡±


    Once more, Amenti mewed before she withdrew from his touch and leapt from the sack. Her absence left a sharp pain in Assou¡¯s fingers, so he hastily withdrew his hand. She had cut his index finger. Somehow, with shining beauty and lack of weapons.


    Her tiny paws gave her a few steps¡¯ head start before she sat down again and looked at him. Her expression still pierced him and she waited for him. But it was only when he could break away from the blood on his finger and give her some of his attention again that the picture became clearer.


    Amenti motioned him to follow her.


    Slowly, Assou gathered up the bag of wheat, giving in to her will. As he approached her, Amenti jumped to her paws again. She let him run after her, and it was hard not to be grateful to her. With her, it was easier to stride through the crowds and forget Nagib. Her shiny black fur captivated him. It enveloped his senses in metres of fabric. Everything in him wanted to follow her wherever her path led.

 Change -2-

    His thoughts were free to drift off, to be unrestrained, and to go over things again. The burning inside had disappeared. What remained was emptiness. Loneliness that left room for hope.


    With luck, his messenger would return soon, bringing good news. To fight Nagib as a rival, he had to get to know him. He had to learn to understand his faults and had to see what this man was doing every second of his life. Only then would he be able to do something. Only with the right weapons could he win Fatrada over without provoking her hatred. It was quite simple. In the end, everyone had something to hide. Even if it was only a secret from childhood. Something always lay in the shallows of a soul. That was the only reason the gods sometimes took pity on them and offered help.


    The certainty gave him new strength and suppressed the mind. It gave him security to lift his head and notice that Amenti had disappeared. Instead, the palace loomed before him.


    Assou took one last breath before heading for the entrance. The path to the shadows of the interior remained endless, proving that his thoughts had still not detached from Nagib and simultaneously not knowing if they wanted to follow the vizier¡¯s labours for the rest of the day. Questions pierced him, clinging to his conscience and smiling at his attempts to shake off anything negative. It took a moment for the mockery within him to fade and the shadow of the palace to wrap its protective arms around him. The heat ebbed and each breath Assou took was freer than before.


    ¡°Is it not shameful to be a vizier courting the hand of a wheat seller?¡± It was Maathorneferure¡¯s voice that reached him through the clouds of his thoughts.


    Instantly, the tjati let his gaze wander, only to linger on the figure of the queen leaning gallantly against the wall. Crossing her arms in front of her ample chest, she gave him a smile that threatened to engulf him. He straightened his shoulders. He couldn¡¯t show any weakness to her. She would savour his every mistake. So he struggled to a thin smile.


    ¡°I wish you a pleasant day too, Great Royal Queen.¡±


    Excessive kindness had no value towards her. She wasn¡¯t his queen - at least not the way it might have been best. Maathorneferure was nothing more than Ramesses¡¯ third wife, who had to hold her own alongside Meritamen and Bintanath. She was nothing more than a woman who had found a place in this place for political reasons.


    ¡°Did she steal your tongue, Vizier?¡± She dragged out his position, almost making it an exhibition of humour, as she pushed herself off the wall and raised a brow.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± he replied slowly. ¡°But to my regret, I have no time to make conversation with a woman who has no knowledge about political matters. A conversation with you has no added value for me. And now, if you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to.¡±


    With a curt nod, he moved on again to attend to his duties. In the end, there was always something to do, even if it was just holding on to writings that had been gathering dust in his chambers for far too long. Anything was better than having to stay in the presence of this woman.


    But Maathorneferure didn¡¯t let up. ¡°Is that so? Yet I thought you would like to talk to someone about Nagib.¡±


    The twitch coursed through Assou¡¯s whole body. His shoulders slumped, his steps stumbled and though he hadn¡¯t wanted to turn around, his body gave in to her voice. Before he had even gathered the right words, he was looking into her hawk eyes again - saturated with dark clouds that turned the haunting brown of her irises into a deep abyss of uncertainty.


    ¡°How do you know about this?¡± His voice was just a hiss, quick and biting. But the imperious smile on her lips took pleasure in his every emotion. In her world, someone like him posed no threat.


    ¡°Vizier ... I, too, have my messengers and slaves in this palace. Do you really think I would miss a single thing?¡± She shrugged before brushing her long hair over her shoulder. ¡°Somehow you have to pass the time in this place and I am very fortunate that you and your foolishness bring a little entertainment.¡±


    He wanted to object, opened his mouth, took a breath, was ready to bring her to her knees - and discarded any attempt when she raised her hand to silence him. Her royal elegance shone through for a moment too long, nestling against his ears like a giggle, making him wince as she directed her words at him again.


    ¡°Is it not truly foolish to desire a woman of the lower folk?¡± She took a few steps closer. ¡°You are a vizier. Your attention should be on the rich women of the upper families. Not on a woman who sells wheat.¡± She waved it off. ¡°Not as if I have any idea which woman would be ideal for you, but we both know that Fatrada is just about fit to be a slave of the palace.¡±


    ¡°If we go by that sense, you, too, are just good enough to keep peace. For any other reason, our Pharaoh would never have bothered to marry a woman like you. There are better choices in the land.¡± It was a lie, a simple bluff Assou uttered as if it were the only truth that could be found in the palace. Yet Ramesses would probably have fallen for her either way. To say otherwise was insanity, and yet it was all he had as a weapon. ¡°Did you know that Ramesses almost refused the offer to marry you had the benefits not been raised a little further? You are but a means to an end.¡±


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    ¡°And yet I am your queen!¡± Her voice rose as she lowered her lids. ¡°You know that your every word could get you killed. You could even lose your post as vizier and we both know that would embitter you. However, it would bring you closer to your Fatrada.¡±


    Lips pressed together, Assou stared at her and watched Maathorneferure move closer and closer until she could place a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Can it be that you desire this woman because you don¡¯t know what allure the beauties of the upper classes can offer?¡± She leaned up to his ear. ¡°Or because you know you can never possess a goddess like me? Is that why you stack so low?¡±


    ¡°It is almost laughable that you think you play a part in my thoughts.¡± Firmly, if carefully, he pushed Maathorneferure¡¯s hand from his shoulder before taking a step back. ¡°What do you want from me?¡±


    For a moment, she eyed every inch of his pathetic defence. Her gaze revealed everything and nothing at the same time. Assou didn¡¯t know how to interpret it, understood only that there were a thousand answers to his question, not one of which she uttered. She seemed to have an explanation for everything and, in the same breath, didn¡¯t want to confess anything; as if her own thoughts were a shame she didn¡¯t want to face.


    As a result, she resumed her old position - arms folded in front of her chest, while serenity dominated her features. ¡°I want to see you in my chambers tonight, to show you what the difference is between your sweetheart, the women of the palace, and me.¡± Her lips puckered briefly before she tilted her head. ¡°Should you refuse, remember that any decision you make could negatively affect Fatrada. She may even have to suffer in your place. Who knows?¡±


    His problems were no part of Fatrada. Maathorneferure knew that. She seemed to know him almost better than he would have liked, and she didn¡¯t let herself miss the delicious moment of going first. For her, it was a victory. A successful vendetta. The entire world was at her feet. Except him.


    Maybe that was why she attacked him; why she didn¡¯t let him go, even though it wasn¡¯t hard to avoid each other in this palace. Neither Meritamen nor Bintanath he saw more than twice a year. Only Maathorneferure kept turning up.


    He ran the flat of his hands over his face. Making sense of Maathorneferure¡¯s plans had the same charm as helping slaves build pyramids. Questioning this woman¡¯s logic was futile. The only thing he knew was that she was driven by discontent. She left him no choice, no way to evade when she brought Fatrada into the picture. If he wanted to prevent her from getting into trouble on his account, a late-night visit was nothing more than a trifle he would indulge in. She would probably fill the evening with dancing and laughter. Perhaps she would even put him on display. Nothing earth-shattering and thus nothing he had to resist with all his might.


    All that remained was for him to go back to the study. To the room where no one would disturb him as long as he pretended to be concentrating. That was better than dwelling on Maathorneferure¡¯s spitefulness. It was best to forget about her for the rest of the day.


    His legs carried him straight to his destination. The heat held off thanks to the stone of the palace and the shade in the corridors was cool enough to soothe his hot soles.


    It was little different in his study. The hole, far up in the wall, gave light and let in warmth. The rest drenched itself in pleasant cold, which Assou instantly embraced.


    Still, as he settled behind his low table, no relaxation caught up with him. The papyrus had never stopped piling up, and whenever he thought of bringing order to this chaos, his thoughts drifted off in other directions. A bath would have been pleasant. Finding out about the messenger would keep him going. These were things that had much more appeal than the transcripts of any monetary income of the past years for which he hadn¡¯t been responsible.


    Perhaps that was a peculiarity of the viziers. One collected information relating to their work, piled it up in one place and hoped that the next generation would think about archiving the stuff or at least transcribing it properly so that people could grasp even the slightest of what was written there.


    The purring of a cat snapped him out of his thoughts. A sideways glance brought Kuss into view. The four-legged cat¡¯s silvery fur was just nestling against one of his legs when Assou realised that this tomcat had gained access without coming through the door. Without further ado, his gaze fell to the upper hole in the wall. There was nothing outside the room that could have helped him, and yet Kuss¡¯ body nestled against him as if it were natural.


    ¡°You¡¯ve had it with me lately, haven¡¯t you?¡± Mouth agape, Assou placed a hand on the soft fur. It was thicker than Amenti¡¯s. ¡°You must be feeling hot.¡±


    The cat¡¯s mewing didn¡¯t sound like agreement, but it didn¡¯t betray disagreement either, and the fact he was even concerned about it made him shake his head. Then he took a deep breath. His thoughts had fallen into a mess that resembled the endless scrolls of papyrus staring at him as if it was his fault they didn¡¯t have a permanent place on some shelf.


    ¡°Gather yourself, Assou,¡± he told himself. ¡°You¡¯re not living up to your position by acting like a desperate boy. Since when did you become such an idiot? Fatrada didn¡¯t upset you like that before, did she? She is just one woman among many! What would your father say to that?¡±


    His attitude froze that very moment. He didn¡¯t want to know what his father would say. This man had given everything to make a decent, successful man out of his son. He had been dead for four years and buried next to his wife, but even on the day they had buried him, Assou had been sure that there had still been life in him. He had been a clever man. Smarter than most. He probably would have had no trouble finding an option to put Maathorneferure in her place and forget about Fatrada.


    Assou¡¯s eyes narrowed as he thought of his father¡¯s smile. Of the lecturing words and kindness he had been given between explicit instructions. Next to him, his mother, whose weak body had given up early and lived on in his memories for years. She had always stroked his head when he had been little. Touches that had shown him that mistakes were okay and that despite everything, he had a place to return to.


    A place that no longer existed.

 A lustful power play -1-

    The memory pulled at his insides and pressed against his chest to make it difficult for him to breathe. In the end, he was left alone. There were no hands left to catch him when perhaps one day everything would take a turn for the worse. No one gave him more security than himself. He had earned his firm footing and he wouldn¡¯t lose it to Maathorneferure.


    The sudden knock on his door made Assou flinch. No one could hear his thoughts ¨C at least no one except the gods ¨C which also meant he had nothing to worry about. Still, the heaviness remained in him and didn¡¯t let up even when he invited his visitor in.


    For a moment, nothing happened. Silence moved through the room as the tjati kept the door in his sights. No one entered. No one cared to obey his order, so with a snort, he forced himself to his feet. With slow steps, he approached the door and placed a hand on the wood. It was impossible to sense anyone on the other side, and yet the rigid existence of uneasy certainty slid through his body. No one was waiting for him on the other side, he was sure of that after a few moments, so he opened the door a crack. Bitter emptiness greeted him with silence, tempting Assou to open the barrier fully and look down the corridor. But not even a shadow flitted along the stretch from one side to the other.


    With a sigh, he lowered his gaze, only to be drawn to a stone slab at his feet. He looked at the smooth stone, on which there were only a few scratches, as he crouched down. More curious than before, he took the slab in his hand and turned it. But nothing had been left on the back either.


    Someone had left this slab in front of his door. They wanted to tell him something, and yet it seemed as if they wanted to make fun of him. It was hard not to think of Maathorneferure instantly. Her games weren¡¯t worthy of those of a queen, and the last encounter with her had only been a few moments ago.


    When should she have had time to lay this unclear message at his door?


    No matter from which angle he looked at it, nothing fitted. All he was left with was the sight of the stone in his hands and the mewing of the cat in the background. A silent invitation to take the slab inside and close the door.


    The message found a place under the pile of papyrus that covered his table. Then Assou sat back and took a breath. He had to solve the palace¡¯s problems step by step. The way he had always done it. The new components weren¡¯t allowed to upset him. It was important to stay on the right path.


    The sun was slowly falling, nestling closer to the earth and allowing the heat outside to subside. He followed the fading glow with loose attention. His head was empty, his chest weighed half as much as before, and his thoughts had focused on one problem.


    First, he would take on Maathorneferure. Once she was no longer a threat, most of his hurdles would be removed. After that, he could turn his attention to the smaller obstacles that all at once seemed meaningless. Taking a step back and looking at things soberly, as his father had sometimes done, was wiser than running blindly to his doom. It saved him from the crowd that had seemed so overwhelming before. Everything, except Maathorneferure, was nothing but a mountain of trivialities to which he could devote himself half-heartedly.


    And yet he couldn¡¯t stop thinking about the individual components as darkness swallowed the land and the city slowly grew sleepy. The late evening fell early by its standards and the dinner he had skipped made itself known on the sidelines.


    As soon as he had complied with the Great Royal Queen¡¯s will, he would make up for the missed meals. But until then, it was a matter of waiting.


    When Assou pulled himself to his feet and adjusted his clothes, darkness had already enveloped everything. It was impossible to see one¡¯s hand in front of the eyes, and yet he knew his room so well that he had no trouble getting to the door. Behind the wood at the latest, the fire of the torches flickered and gave light that cast shadows far too long.


    With lively steps, the tjati followed the path to his left, straight to the large bath, behind which the corridors for the queens were hidden. He hadn¡¯t often been to one of Ramesses¡¯ wives, but he knew where to go to get to Maathorneferure.


    No sooner had he set foot in the corridor than whispers reached him. In this place, including the queens, gathered the slaves who had volunteered to serve the gods, and the slaves Ramesses had subjugated and found so pleasing to the eye that he had made them part of the palace.


    Assou followed the whisper, passed restless shadows and felt the faint touch of unexpected cold on his skin. It settled on him, clinging to his clothing, until he arrived before a door whose heavy wood was far nobler than what he possessed. It gleamed darkly, shone, and someone had taken the trouble to carve wondrous flowers into it. It brought a charm of another world and he didn¡¯t have to inquire to know that behind that barrier, none other than Maathorneferure would be waiting for him. This door suited her. It seemed like a relic of her country that made Assou knock. Hard, to make a muffled sound that he could hardly believe would reach the other side.


    But the door was opened.


    The face of a presentable female slave greeted him. She gave him a narrow smile from sparkling eyes before widening the passage and taking a step aside. The lacklustre calasiris fell loosely down her body, matching her flowing movements, which the tjati followed with his eyes before entering.


    His gaze fixed on the furnishings, which looked entirely different from what he knew of Ramesses. Colourful cloths hung from the ceiling, creating a veil-like splendour that captivated him. In between, slave girls. The rattle of jewellery broke the silence, which was filled with the scent of rosewater. It tickled his senses and made him wrinkle his nose before he ran his thumb and forefinger firmly over the bridge.


    ¡°I see you have chosen to act more wisely than at other times.¡±


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    The first thing that reached Assou, surrounded by colours and slave girls, was the voice of Maathorneferure, nestling softly against him. Without further ado, he let his gaze glide further across the room to discover a bed behind two red veils, carefully placed on a pedestal. It was one of those pretty, expensive pieces of which he also owned one ¨C in his bedchamber at home, which he visited perhaps once a year.


    At the foot of her sleeping place, she had placed two wooden chests on which four small wicker baskets rested. From one, Assou could see the corner of cloth sticking out. The image made him breathe a sigh of relief. In that respect, she was little different from the other queens. She protected herself from creatures crawling around, and she enjoyed the handiwork of gifted craftsmen. She herself was nothing more than a woman who nurtured her preferences.


    Preferences that included provoking others.


    ¡°What now?¡± Hands on hips, Assou tilted his head. He had arrived, had fulfilled Maathorneferure¡¯s wish, and yet seemed to be only at the beginning. ¡°What do you want from me?¡±


    ¡°I want you to come closer, Vizier.¡± Her words possessed the honeyed sound of long-forgotten days, and for a moment, it seemed impossible to resist her will.


    In slow steps, Assou complied with her request, pushing aside the veils and working his way to the open space in the middle of which Maathorneferure sat on her bed.


    The sight of her made him hold his breath.


    Well-shaped breasts that would barely fit in his hands were adorned with gold. There was neck jewellery that stretched to her bosom in narrow rings, adorned with blue gems that highlighted her brown skin more beautifully than any expensive silver jewellery he usually saw on high-ranking women. Her dark brown hair lay braided over her shoulder and reached just to the bottom of the necklace. Asim detached himself from the gold, travelled along her body and stopped at the hem of a shawl she had draped over her lap. Legs bent to the side, her body propped on one arm, her free hand rested on her ankles.


    Black-rimmed eyes stared him down. There was amusement in her gaze, the soft hint of mockery on her tongue. ¡°Tell me, Vizier, have you never seen a woman before? You seem to me like a child.¡±


    The snort tightened his features. She wasn¡¯t the first woman he had seen naked, but she was probably the most beautiful ¨C apart from Fatrada. Her body was perfect, inviting a man to nestle against her bosom and share the nights with her. She truly possessed the grace of a goddess and simultaneously she exuded the venom of a serpent.


    ¡°What answer do you expect?¡± Rather than be provoked, Assou focused on her piercing eyes that allowed no escape. It was both a salvation and a curse. ¡°You may be beautiful, but I don¡¯t see what that has to do with me. Should you not turn these charms to your Pharaoh?¡±


    The corners of her mouth twitched downward briefly before she sighed, ¡°You offer no entertainment at all, do you? Thinking you¡¯re always above me just because you¡¯re a better judge of a few things than others.¡±


    Indecisively, Assou raised his brows before Maathorneferure clapped her hands and two female slaves stepped up to her side. One of them had braided her shoulder-length, pitch-black hair into countless plaits adorned with colourful beads that Maathorneferure had presumably lent her for the evening. The heavy silver jewellery around her neck gleamed as an eyesore on her creamy brown skin and seemed too heavy for the thin body that lacked curves.


    The other looked little different, merely offering him a more striking sight, with high cheekbones and nice breasts that glinted slightly in the glow of the captured flames within a metal cube.


    Without further ado, Maathorneferure bent down to grab the fabric that protected the two women¡¯s hips to pull it away. It came away smooth as water, revealing to Assou a view of slender legs joined in neat smooth skin to the middle.


    These slaves weren¡¯t half as well-built as Maathorneferure and yet they possessed the feminine charm that prevailed in this palace on some days. Charm that failed to capture him. They were beautiful to look at, but he was not prepared to fall into the trap of a woman who wanted nothing more than his head four feet away from his body.


    ¡°Well then, they are yours, Vizier.¡± The smirk on Maathorneferure¡¯s lips threw the tjati off balance, so she pointed with both hands at the young slave girls. ¡°What I ask of you is simple. I want you, with Arsino? on my right and Neeth on my left, to indulge in lust before my eyes. Show me you know something about entertainment.¡±


    Automatically, he stretched his neck forward. ¡°I think I misunderstood you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you didn¡¯t.¡±


    His features loosened, dropping all hold as his eyes slid back and forth between the two women. Whatever Maathorneferure was pursuing, in those seconds, he didn¡¯t get behind her plan.


    ¡°Undress!¡± It was a command that left her lips with a harsh sound, making Assou look back at her. Her beauty shone among the other women. Almost as if she had made a neat selection to compare the countenance of a human with that of a goddess.


    Refusing her would get him into trouble as much as agreeing. Fatrada was at stake, along with his post as Vizier. If Ramesses learned of this evening, the peace within the palace would be gone. But if he had to make a choice, the decision was simple. Protecting Fatrada was the only thing that mattered. At the end, he, too, was just a man. Surrendering to two beautiful women in front of a queen wasn¡¯t the worst thing she could have done to him.


    For a moment, Maathorneferure faded into the background while the two slave girls received his attention. When he let his mind run wild, they were perfect; then they lacked for nothing and neither of them was inferior to Fatrada in anything. It made them good enough to let himself fall and forget that there were better things to do than submit to Maathorneferure.


    Assou took the freedom to pull down a few of the fabrics to settle on the floor. The women, noticing his intentions, slowly settled to join him. Neeth at his feet, Arsino? at his side.


    Arsino?¡¯s hands wandered over the fabric of his clothing, gently resting against his cheeks and grazing the skin down to the nape of his neck. Meanwhile, Neeth¡¯s large, brown eyes lingered on him, looking like the vast desert where people could get lost if they weren¡¯t careful. Nimbly, Arsino?¡¯s hand slipped under Assou¡¯s tunic, down to the shendyt, to loosen the tightness and give him the freedom to disrobe himself in a few swift moves. The heat of the outside world consumed him in an instant. Being naked among these women smothered the former cold, flaming hot along his body, not missing an inch.


    With one hand, the stranger reached into his crotch, touching his cock with her fingertips, while simultaneously using the other to grope for the second slave. Meanwhile, her body slid behind him, barely noticeable. Breasts pressed firmly against his back. Then she reached for Neeth¡¯s arm, grabbed her and pulled her closer so that she, too, came closer to the tjati. Her thin body seemed clumsy, awkward, and unsure of what she was about to do. Presumably, she had no plan for whether a vizier was considered a mere man, or whether there were rules.


    Arsino? pushed back against his side, letting the soft tips of her breasts graze his arm before she leaned against him. Her hand tightened around his penis, bringing new tightness that forced Assou to spread his legs. Her movements, a gentle rise and fall, were barely perceptible, sweeping over him like a breeze and possessing vague disappointment in the same blink. Still, he put an arm around her, dug his fingers into her soft hip and pressed her tighter against him, hoping she would react the same way ¨C rub harder.


    But her touch remained gentle.

 A lustful power play -2-

    Neeth found her courage somewhere between Arsino?¡¯s movements and moved a little closer, enveloping him with her slender body and ultimately positioning herself behind Assou. Her legs emerged to his sides while her hands pushed aside her partner¡¯s torso to claim the tjati¡¯s chest. With a certain wilfulness, she pulled him back and Assou surrendered to the fall.


    Leaning back, he found support against Neeth¡¯s almost flat chest. Her fingertips stroked along his torso, playing around the areolas that triggered slight tingles in his senses with each touch. Pleasure coursed through his body as the grip around his penis tightened and the friction became more present.


    The woman at his side intensified, slowly but steadily, as if she were following an intricate plan. Her eyes stared him down. Assou studied her, her smooth body and also the flaws that weren¡¯t flaws, but stood out for him. Her far too narrow hips made the touch of her body bony, and knowing there was more out there than that made him turn his gaze to Maathorneferure. To a woman who kept her chin tucked while the smile on her lips betrayed satisfaction.


    The gold shimmered in the candlelight and her graceful pose reminded him that there were things he couldn¡¯t have; things that were far away. Just as far away as Fatrada, whose smile bloomed inside him as her slender body beneath the airy clothes invited to long nights.


    If he closed his eyes, he could see her, smell her, perceive her, as in the moments when he bought her wheat. His hands settled against her chest; soft resistance that welcomed him.


    The brief shiver that overcame him was too weak to compete with the heat of his body and it took little more than a breath before he was aware of the blood between his legs pooling. The erection overcame him in disagreement with what he wanted and what he was being given. Surrounded by two women he didn¡¯t desire, watched by a queen who could give him anything, and haunted by memories of love, his body reacted to everything and nothing. His muscles twitched. He had to stir, move, do something. Waiting for an end in the arms of these slaves was the closest thing to eternity ¨C time he didn¡¯t want to waste. Instead, the tjati grabbed the woman at his side by the shoulders and yanked her aside so she fell backwards into the fabrics with a brief hiss. He allowed himself to be swept along by the momentum, disengaging himself from Neeth¡¯s chest and swinging over the slave¡¯s body, her breasts resting heavily on her all at once.


    A grip on her thin thighs made her spread her legs as her hands clawed at the fabric as if it were a saving shore. Assou let the tips of his fingers travel along her thighs to place his thumbs against her entrance. For a fleeting moment, then he penetrated her with a thrust.


    Moisture pressed against him, while the tightness of her interior allowed almost no intrusion. But his hips were stronger than her resistance. He slid forward until he could go no further and the heat of another became part of him. Sighing, she rolled under him as Neeth joined them, taking a seat wide-legged above them. Her fingers settled between her labia. Assou watched her, mesmerised by the movements of certain limbs that disappeared between her lips only to emerge again, shining. Simultaneously, he felt his hips respond. They had surrendered to enough rest, desiring to do something, to feel something, to savour the sensation that gripped his cock.


    He thrust ¨C once, a second time ¨C finding a rhythm he could follow without the effort straining his pelvis too much. Hands firmly on Arsino?¡¯s thighs, he directed her slightly to the side so that one of her legs wrapped around him while the other lifted over his shoulder. Her head turned to the other slave¡¯s crotch, letting her move closer to her vagina, and for a moment Assou thought he could smell the pleasure she was absorbing.


    Arsino? didn¡¯t hesitate for long, wrapping her arms around Neeth¡¯s lower body and moving her head further between her legs. The tjati could barely see it, but part of him thought he saw her push her lips against her labia before her tongue followed the glistening line to the ass. Arsino?¡¯s pleasurable sigh settled delightfully against Assou¡¯s skin, bringing her high yet fragile voice to the fore. He wanted to follow her, to taste the desire on her tongue as the sound of earthly instincts lingered in the air.


    The friction against his cock tempted firmer thrusts he could feel in his bones. Sweat strengthened the bond between him and Arsino?¡¯s soft brown skin. In some seconds, they were one, only to be torn away in others. In the eternally same beat that also snatched scattered sighs from him. They rolled over his lips, dried them out, and whenever he attempted to wet them with his tongue, he tasted salt. Yet he wanted to taste Neeth much more.


    It was an urge Assou couldn¡¯t resist as he withdrew from Arsino? all at once and grabbed her by the hips. It didn¡¯t take much strength to push her aside in one move and turn attention to Neeth.


    Her body winced as he reached her in order to settle on his stomach in front of her and get closer to the smooth skin between her legs. Viscous water escaped her and Assou didn¡¯t hesitate a moment longer to put his mouth to her flesh and suck on her lips. Sweetness spread across his tongue, joined by a note he couldn¡¯t associate with anything. It was delicious, though not comparable to the charm of a date.


    Without further ado, he pushed in deeper, feeling his way forward with his tongue to burn every inch into his senses as Arsino? placed her hands on his back and massaged his shoulders with vigour. Her touches gave the fantasy a push, carrying him off into the arms of a woman he could taste as he pressed her body tightly against his.


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    ¡°Enough!¡±


    The sudden command that reached him as if through cotton wool didn¡¯t even make him look up. But the world that bound him shattered barely later. Neeth drew back. Her legs closed, her nails scratched his hands, causing him to let her go and Arsino?¡¯s weight faded as well. Both slaves gained distance. A few steps in which they took a breath before they regained their stance. Assou looked after them, gathering his thoughts, but realised far too late that he was still in Maathorneferure¡¯s room.


    Instantly, his attention swung in her direction. The smile was still on her lips and her gaze wandered only briefly to his erection before she tilted her head. ¡°A stroke of bad luck, isn¡¯t it? Wasn¡¯t the time sufficient for you?¡±


    Though his thoughts were still enclosed in a silent fog before him and the heat held a tight grip on his body, it wasn¡¯t hard to see that she was mocking him. She was trying to underline her position. Maathorneferure possessed the power to give him what he wanted, only to take it away at the very next moment. She took pleasure in his unfulfilled lust, knowing full well that he wasn¡¯t allowed to lay a hand on her. And yet it was laughable.


    He was a man. He knew his body, and he knew how to end unpleasant situations. Without embarrassment, he reached for the cloth he had pulled down earlier to wipe the moisture from his cock. It was over. He couldn¡¯t let himself fall any longer. His senses had to wake up and loosen up. An intention that gained clarity as he pinched his thigh.


    Pain coursed through his loins. Not severe enough to elicit a reaction from him, but enough to rouse his thoughts as he pulled himself to his feet with a sigh. His erection sagged, loosening with each successive movement.


    Maathorneferure had nothing on him, and the work that awaited him in his room was enough to banish lust to a small box in the back of his mind.


    ¡°I would rather say it was an acceptable pastime.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Was that all?¡±


    The only thing he could do was to not let on how the simmering heat was still building up inside him. The calm had relaxed his senses, but the restlessness still lurked in the corners. It shuddered over his body, clinging to his perception and making him smile at the same time. He would not play into her hands, no matter how far she went. Maathorneferure, meanwhile, lost her mockery. Instead, the corners of her mouth twisted as she stood up and let two slave girls put cloth around her shoulders.


    ¡°You seem to enjoy making fun of the gods.¡± She tilted her head and stared at him as if he would burst into flames at any second. But she was no goddess, of that he was sure. ¡°Don¡¯t you know what you¡¯re getting yourself into?¡±


    ¡°Into a meaningless game,¡± he returned. ¡°Do you really think it¡¯s wise to count yourself as a deity when our gods could quickly take that as a taunt?¡±


    Her jaw ground as she stretched her neck and looked down at him. Her size, so close to his body, was impressive. She knew how to intimidate and yet Assou felt he couldn¡¯t take a step back from her. Not even when she reached for his face.


    Out of the blue, sharp nails dug into his cheeks. She was quicker than he could ever have reacted. The smell of roses crept heavily into his nose, while her impenetrable gaze underlined haughtiness.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare, Assou.¡± She called him by name. The brisk tone, the pointed sound that graced the beginning ¨C no one had ever addressed him that way before. It was unlike anything he knew, combined with a mendacious devotion that shrieked in the ears and held the whiff of something foreign at the same time. So unfamiliar that he would have liked to listen to her a little longer, while the reluctance in him won.


    Without further ado, Assou grabbed her wrists and forced her to release the steely grip. The scratch of her nails burned on his skin as she hissed at him. She tore away, glaring at him and wrinkling her nose as if it was an insult to have someone other than Ramesses touching her. But Assou didn¡¯t allow himself to be distracted. Instead, he took two steps back.


    ¡°For a supposed goddess, you possess a strong temper. Are you sure your senses aren¡¯t simply blinded?¡±


    ¡°You provoke war, vizier.¡± Gripping the cloth by the corners, she wrapped it tighter. Anger graced her face, abstrusely disfiguring this woman¡¯s beauty. The crease of anger between her brows cut deep.


    ¡°War that you started.¡±


    ¡°So you want to make me the bad guy?¡± Silent laughter escaped her throat before she dared a step towards him. ¡°Be sure that if you want to make me out to be the bad one, I will show you which of us knows how to fight a war best.¡±


    ¡°You sound like you¡¯ve fought a war before, which would honestly surprise me.¡± Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he looked up at her blankly. ¡°Yet your homeland is at peace.¡±


    For a moment, she remained rigid. A little, as if she had misjudged the circumstances before she took a breath and gave him improper lightness. ¡°You¡¯re actually dumber than I expected.¡±


    ¡°Am I?¡± He had to stay calm, control himself. She was challenging his position, yet he couldn¡¯t disagree ¨C especially since he didn¡¯t know what she was getting at.


    ¡°My homeland is at peace, just as Egypt is at peace. At least, if you look at the circumstances from the outside.¡± She put a finger on her full lips. ¡°But tell me, can¡¯t you see behind the curtain? I remember that not every war has to be physical.¡±


    Without further ado, Assou pressed his lips together. Maathorneferure had caught him. He had wanted to mock her for talking about war without knowing the extent of it. Yet there were battles without weapons. Battles fought solely with words; with intrigues that women, on some days, controlled better than men. In those seconds, he had fallen straight into another of her traps. It was mistakes that made him human. Missteps that proved to her she was above him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t recall any exchange of words we¡¯ve had ever being grand enough to be traded as combat.¡± The only way to avoid her was to circle the base. ¡°Or are you trying to tell me that your sad provocations were actually an attempt to get my attention for a battle you could never win?¡±


    ¡°We can find out,¡± she replied to him. ¡°And when you have lost, I want to hear you say my name. Know that it will be the first and last time.¡±


    Her name. The one they gave her before Ramesses renamed her. Sau?kanu, the Hittite daughter who served as a peace treaty.


    The monster of another land.

 Twisted priorities -1-

    He left her knowing that there was nothing he could do. In these moments, when Maathorneferure was a few steps ahead of him, there was nothing to do but retreat. With a smile and light movements in tow, of course ¨C even if none of it wanted to suit him.


    Playing by her rules was out of the question, and yet the only option left to him. At least until he had a plan to prove to her they were better off going their separate ways. It couldn¡¯t be that hard. Even Ramesses, he only saw when he found a seat in the throne room. Away from it, his king was usually untraceable.


    With a sigh, Assou ran his fingers through the black hair that nestled close to his skin. It was obvious he had to put one foot in front of the other and that no matter what Maathorneferure said, he couldn¡¯t let himself be dissuaded. Nothing else mattered. On days like these, he had to think in small steps.


    Still, the Third Great Royal Queen¡¯s words kept coursing through his senses. She wanted him to call her by name when she won her game. A demand he didn¡¯t know if it was part of the game or merely a sadistic plot to bring him to his knees. Most people would hardly think of anything but her name. They would imagine how they would pronounce it when the time came. But all those thoughts were nothing more than the first step to defeat.


    Assou had to put some distance between them.


    If she wanted to fight a war that was just a simple game, that was exactly what she was going to get. She wasn¡¯t a challenge. She was a queen who slept in a bed that had been made, standing by the side of a man who had been chosen by the gods to lead this country.


    His thoughts broke off when he caught sight of Amenti¡¯s black fur at his door. The glow left by the torches on her hair was magical, stealing away negative thoughts and leaving the tjati in a floating void.


    ¡°I see you, too, have returned from your journey.¡± His steps slowed as he approached the cat. She, meanwhile, simply looked at him. The green diamonds in her head gleamed in the dull glow, and her soft mewing nestled against the long shadows of the walls.


    Slowly, the vizier went to his knees and reached out to her, hoping she would show him kindness. But all she gave him were watchful eyes that followed his every move. She was a stubborn creature who followed his every move.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have nothing to give you. Not yet.¡± He raised his index finger. ¡°But if you wait, I¡¯ll have some food brought to us.¡±


    She didn¡¯t reply. Of course she didn¡¯t. Instead, Amenti waited. She didn¡¯t even move as Assou stood over her and opened the door. Her gentle little paws carried her inside, and he had no choice but to follow.


    Arriving in his room had something lonely about it compared to Maathorneferure¡¯s. A plain interior was enough for him. There was this low table where he could sit down on the floor, believing he could think better that way. A few simple paintings on the walls marked his position and shimmered in bright colours. The furnishings had always remained minimal, so as not to be distracting. The writings were more important than the magnificent walls. In addition, the shelves full of papyrus covered part of the painstakingly applied art.


    Still, the direct comparison with the Great Royal Queen¡¯s chamber was sobering.


    The only thing in which it was in no way inferior to that of Maathorneferure was the size. There was enough space for ten people to talk comfortably. He could sleep in this room. If he had wanted to, he could have easily put a bed and some boxes between the shelves and the table. Maybe even a small tree, lovingly held in a pot.


    The colours in Maathorneferure¡¯s bedchamber breathed life compared to his workroom. Being back sucked the atmosphere empty. Time slowed, his breathing noticeably calmer ¨C and he realised why he preferred the minimalist. Nothing had changed about it in all this time, even if it seemed sadder than the colourfulness of the others.


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    The unexpected knock on his door made the tjati turn on his heel and open the barrier in the same breath. What met his gaze were the dark eyes of a slave.


    ¡°My lord, I saw you had returned to your study. Have you already dined?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t. Tell the cooks to bring me something,¡± Assou replied, before glancing at the cat. ¡°A little meat for Amenti would be a welcome side dish.¡±


    ¡°I will pass it on.¡± Hastily, the slave bowed before turning and heading quickly for the kitchen at the other end of the palace. Assou only vaguely remembered the well-kept interior there. His duties had rarely taken him to the kitchen. It was Bintanath who watched the activity of the cooks there. Her passion for good food didn¡¯t allow for a bad course.


    Leisurely, Assou finally left the entrance and circled his low table to take a seat behind it. The flat cushion on which he usually sat seemed a little puffier than usual and the peace in his body was no longer waiting. A quick look at the papyrus scrolls reminded him of the stone slab that had been left for him. The wordless message he still couldn¡¯t relate to anyone.


    Without further ado, he pulled it out from under the stacked scrolls to take another look. Perhaps the inscription was so tiny that he had missed it. The stone was heavy in his hands, weighing no less than when he had picked it up. But despite everything, there was a change. The surface was no longer empty. Someone had taken the trouble to hammer in symbols during his absence. Beautiful, neat images, reminiscent of art. But the question he was asked raised uncertainties.


    Do you want to win this game?


    He shaped the words with his lips, trying to find meaning in them, and failed the very moment Amenti mewed, the twitch reaching across his body. His fingers tightened their grip on the stone as he hastily lifted his gaze and spotted the cat on his table.


    Her eyes asked the same question as the stone slab in his hands. An illusion, he knew. They didn¡¯t speak the same language and probably every word he imagined was nothing more than just that ¨C imagination.


    ¡°What do you want from me?¡± Hopelessly, he raised his brows and put the stone slab aside to reach out to Amenti. Sure enough, she remained seated and let him touch her, allowing the fur to pour a little peace into him before the renewed knock on the door demanded his attention. ¡°I think the food is here.¡±


    As he rose to his feet, Amenti looked after him. Assou thought he felt her eyes on his body even as he stood with his back to her, opening the door for the slave. Anything was better than dealing with the strange question on the stone. The man who scurried through the doorway thanked him with a slight bow as the wooden tray shook in his hands. His careful steps brought him straight to the table, where he placed the food between the papyrus and the cat. The smell of roasted sheep hung in the air, while bread and fruit piled up on the tray next to the meat. Assou recognised grapes without looking closely, and the peach wedges weren¡¯t hidden either.


    His eyes fixed on the hummus, while a female slave entered with a quiet apology on her lips and provided a jug of wine with a cup. They knew he preferred to take his meals alone, to stare down his work on the side. That was the only reason they didn¡¯t wait near him and instead retreated into the corridor. Silence fell, and only the furtive munching of Amenti drew attention.


    Assou¡¯s eyes rushed to the cat, who had already dipped her nose into the sheep meat and was sucking up the pink fibres as if they were liquid. Her slurping banished him for a moment before he too shuffled back to the table and settled down to protect some of the food from Amenti. She acknowledged it with a purr. Friendly and grateful, so Assou pushed a bit more meat under her nose.


    Her company was a nice change, warm around his shoulders as the fruit disappeared and the meat was used up. Only when the bread was left on the wood did Assou lean back. The dust-dry stuff that had no taste had disgusted him even as a child. Not even Amenti dared to touch the bone-hard piece of wheat, so it was left alone on the platter, which Assou grabbed barely later to set down in front of the door. He knew that somewhere within reach, a slave was waiting for this action. They weren¡¯t particularly good at hiding.


    But he barely got to close the door when Amenti swept through his legs. Her sly paws made a gallant leap over the scraps of food and landed silently in the corridor. Then she turned to him, sat down and stared.


    ¡°What is it?¡± He couldn¡¯t stop talking to her, even if it was futile. Still, hope kept sprouting, and it was never completely disappointed. Not even this time, when Amenti stood up and took a few steps to the side before looking at him again.


    ¡°Do you want me to follow you? But where?¡± He didn¡¯t wait for another sign. Instead, he automatically started moving, so the door slammed shut behind him.


    Amenti directed him outside, where the air hung heavy in his lungs. The heat still had a firm grip on the land, although the sun had long since set and darkness had arrived in every crack of the city. Only scattered lights glimmered in houses ¨C next to the fire pots that had been placed to light the paths. Soon these flames too would be extinguished and nothing but the cloak of night would remain.

 Twisted priorities -2-

    When he took his eyes off the town to look at Amenti again, she had disappeared. The black fur had melted into the darkness, engulfing the cat and leaving only him behind. Automatically, his lungs took a deep breath to call out to her. With luck, she would realise they had lost each other. But his voice remained silent as a light breeze brushed his skin.


    ¡°My lord, how good to see you here!¡±


    Assou¡¯s body whirled around, only to catch sight of the messenger he had been tasked with finding out all he could about Fatrada¡¯s husband. He was back sooner than expected.


    ¡°I bring word.¡±


    ¡°I thought so.¡± There was no hiding the sigh on the tjati¡¯s lips. ¡°But how is it you have gathered useful information in such a short time?¡±


    ¡°A web of helping hands,¡± the messenger replied. ¡°Watchful eyes and inquiring tongues have gathered all they could find. Many people were questioned.¡±


    ¡°And the information?¡±


    ¡°The man¡¯s name is already known to you and that he works in the field as well. But now I can tell you that his financial circumstances are normal to poor. He married his wife a year ago, after they were introduced to each other. It was an arranged marriage to get the wife out of the house and into the hands of a labourer. They are childless.¡±


    Assou¡¯s ears perked up. They had been married without deciding for themselves. Probably that was also the reason they had no children. Perhaps the happy image they revealed was nothing more than a spectacle that crumbled in the evening behind closed doors.


    ¡°Furthermore,¡± the messenger continued, ¡°a few people report that Fatrada and Nagib didn¡¯t like each other very much in the beginning. But the months have brought peace and with it affection.¡±


    Love that hadn¡¯t blossomed yet. He still had a chance. Fatrada¡¯s marriage was not the perfect narrative he had been dreading. There was still space in her heart. Room for him. Air he could breathe in the hope she would accept him at his side; that she wanted to be his.


    ¡°Very well. Continue to keep your eyes open.¡± Without further ado, Assou pressed two gold coins into the messenger¡¯s hand. ¡°There cannot be enough good news.¡±


    The boy bowed, then took his distance and ultimately disappeared into the darkness ¨C straight into the corners where the light of the fire couldn¡¯t reach. This kid knew how to do his job. Amenti, however, was still nowhere to be seen. He had lost sight of her for good and whatever she had wanted to show him, he would never find out. At least not this evening. So he turned and made his way back to his study. Straight into the arms of the exhausted night that engulfed him, too. Somewhere between papyrus and his seat cushion, thoughts of Fatrada grew weary until sleep cradled him uneasily in its arms and the short night gave way to the next morning.


    Warm rays of sunlight settled on his skin. Muffled voices drifted into his room from the hallway and the tickle on his nose made him sneeze. Placed on the floor, misusing the seat cushion for his head, he listened to the hurried footsteps chasing up and down the corridors, trying to comply with the pharaoh¡¯s wishes.


    Only slowly did Assou dare to turn onto his back. His tired bones hadn¡¯t yet recovered from the previous day and complained about his constant thoughts that had made sleep light. The certainty that Fatrada¡¯s heart wasn¡¯t lost yet had kept the excitement going. Whenever he had closed his eyes, her smile had appeared. And behind it, Nagib. Only this tricky image had made him switch sides again and again. Sometimes his right side had hurt, his left had been too warm, he couldn¡¯t lie on his back and on his stomach he thought he would suffocate in the pillow. The ideas and words of his senses had always been stinging at each other.


    The tjati ran a hand over his face before sitting up. The stabbing spine greeted him like an old friend, and his legs felt like the wood used for chairs in some rooms. Perhaps even older and more brittle, because his knees gave way when he tried to pick himself up.


    Weakness kept Assou pinned to the floor until a few breaths passed and he pushed himself up from the table. There was something liberating about the cracking in his shoulders and the more movement entered his cells, the easier it became to adjust ¨C even if all this wasn¡¯t supposed to be normal at twenty-six.


    With unhurried steps, the vizier dragged himself to the door to make his way to the bathroom, where nothing more waited than the toilet and fresh water the slaves had prepared. The morning routine brought with it a new sense of vitality, washing the sweat of the previous night from him and wrapping his body in new splendour as a slave brought new clothes for him. With a beige shendyt draped around his legs reaching his knees, and a robe that fell lightly to keep the heat off, the sun seemed to rise in his body as well. He was clean, freshly dressed, and ready to go about his work.


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    His elated steps were clearly set apart from the haste of the slaves. There would be time before Ramesses would need him. So Assou took advantage of the freedom to walk into the city.


    It was the same way, the same destination. As on all the other days, when most people made way for him, he didn¡¯t let them take away his good mood. He even wished a few simple people a good morning. Only when he caught sight of the wheat stall did he stop. He needed this moment. Shoulders tightened and back pushed through, he felt a little taller. Not as if Fatrada would notice, considering she towered over him by two hand widths. Then he moved again, sighting the jars and canvas sacks between which Fatrada had positioned herself. Diagonally opposite her, he stopped.


    ¡°I see you are hard at work.¡± With a smile, he waited for her to turn to him and, sure enough, she did with an air of amazement.


    ¡°Vizier,¡± was all she could bring herself to say before she tilted her head and her long hair fell over her shoulder to her narrow chest. ¡°How can I help you today? Do you ask for more of my humble wheat?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he replied slowly. ¡°Today I have come to make conversation with you.¡±


    ¡°You are far too kind to someone of my position.¡± She smiled, if only briefly, before turning away and pulling two bags of wheat tightly shut. ¡°Unfortunately, I am at work and thus cannot spare much time to accommodate your request.¡±


    Most people would have dropped everything for him. But Fatrada was different. She didn¡¯t care who he was most of the time. As long as he brought nothing useful, there was no reason to let the work slide. She had to make a living and talk wouldn¡¯t put a meal on her table.


    ¡°Can you spare a little time for me if I buy two sacks of wheat?¡± he inquired cautiously, and indeed she whirled to face him so that her brown hair swirled around her like a dark storm.


    ¡°You want to buy wheat just for me to speak to you?¡± She seemed amused at his attempt. ¡°You are a strange man, Vizier.¡±


    ¡°Assou,¡± he interjected. ¡°Please, just call me Assou.¡±


    ¡°Vizier Assou it is.¡± She smirked before pointing to two sacks. ¡°You can take these.¡±


    Hastily he nodded, paid, but didn¡¯t take the sacks. Instead, his mind wandered through all the issues on his mind. ¡°The last time I was here, I saw your husband.¡±


    ¡°Nagib?¡± She raised her brows. ¡°Did he do something stupid? He does that sometimes.¡±


    Without further ado, Assou waved it off. ¡°No, no. He was a friendly salesman. But seeing him reminded me how hard it must be to work in the field.¡±


    She shrugged her shoulders. She probably knew endless things to say in reply that weren¡¯t particularly friendly. Someone like him, working in the palace and making sure the Pharaoh stayed rich, lived far too relaxed a life, while others were drowning in hard work, yet barely staying alive.


    For a moment Assou regretted his statement, lowered his gaze and yet tried to find more words. ¡°I must confess that I don¡¯t know how such things affect the body.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t say, vizier Assou.¡± The corners of her mouth twitched as she shook her head, the sarcastic tone of her voice taking over.


    ¡°I would like to devote a day to study,¡± he then confessed, even though it was nothing more than a cheap excuse. He didn¡¯t want to go to the field to find out how the people lived and worked there. It had no added value for him or the people. But for Fatrada, he would make those words true if that was what it took for her to recognise him as a man who could make her happy.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you would be very helpful there.¡± She looked at him. ¡°A man of your status has no business in the fields of this land.¡±


    Did he look so out of place? Probably he really didn¡¯t fit the image of the labourers, but ultimately he, too, was just a man. There was little difference between those who looked after the wheat and those who looked after the administration of the land. Yet she saw no potential in him. And he didn¡¯t know whether that was a good or a bad thing.


    ¡°I am sure I would find a way to be helpful,¡± the tjati tried again, but only caught a mild smile from Fatrada.


    ¡°You are very stubborn, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Only when I have to.¡± He shrugged. ¡°And that¡¯s probably more often than I¡¯d like.¡±


    Still, there was no laugh on her lips. Only the smile remained. Simultaneously, she possessed no more time than the little she offered in these moments, and Assou knew he couldn¡¯t stay forever. Not yet. So he gave her a nod of wordless farewell before turning away and taking his bags of wheat.


    His ambling step only slowly put distance between him and Fatrada. Something in him wanted to keep hope alive. Maybe she would look after or call out to him to spend a few blinks longer together. But she was a busy woman. She didn¡¯t care for him.


    Pressing his lips together, Assou shook his head. She was a woman of simple status. To retreat and unwind wasn¡¯t something that belonged to part of her monotonous world.


    But if she let him, he would change that world. All she had to do was open her eyes and realise that the world was bigger than a wheat stall.


    With a sigh, he dismissed that thought, too. Fatrada wasn¡¯t a woman who cared about such trifles. She had her life together and all he could do was find a place in it all. A place in her heart that he had to work for. That was the goal. A simple task that he couldn¡¯t allow himself to be distracted from between the others. He had to put the circumstances in better order.


    With that, his steps became firmer. What took priority was his work as vizier, while on the side he got rid of Maathorneferure ¨C or at least made sure that she was no longer to be classified as a danger. Apart from that, there was still the issue with the slaves that he had to watch out for. The production and construction work couldn¡¯t be allowed to drop off.


    The crowds made it easy for him to get through. Everyone stopped everywhere to look at something that could be used. Small shadows stretched across the paths and the walls of the houses. Watchful eyes pierced him.


    And he stopped.

 Twisted priorities -3-

    The sudden attention made Assou¡¯s senses falter. People were busy, almost as if they had become accustomed to a vizier in their ranks, and yet somewhere in between it all was someone who threatened to devour him. A watchful gaze he couldn¡¯t filter out and yet it was so present on him that he had to take a deeper breath.


    Then he started moving again. The easiest way to throw off or expose an observer was to sprint between paths and corners. It wasn¡¯t the first time someone had shown too much interest, and it probably wasn¡¯t the first time Assou had turned off into the back alleys of this town. People were rapidly reducing in these places, so several turnoffs could be taken without company. The murmur of trade faded into the background and only when he was sure he had the upper hand did he stop behind the next corner and press himself against the wall.


    The heat could barely reach his skin. Only his feet were boiling, bathing his body in a strange contrast he couldn¡¯t escape. His heart pounded quietly. The breath was warm on his lips. Tension rose as the silence passed him by in a low hiss. Every blink was full of expectation.


    And yet no one wanted to turn the corner.


    Assou waited a moment longer before the rigidity in his limbs loosened and he forced himself to glance down the path he had left behind. Sure enough, he caught sight of someone brushing along the walls in cautious steps. The simple calasiris ensnared a well-shaped body, and it took only two breaths for Assou to recognise the face.


    ¡°Dinem?¡± His voice was louder than expected as the slave¡¯s attention chased in his direction. The unfamiliar jewellery around her neck clinked and as her feline eyes lingered on him, her shoulders slumped.


    ¡°Vizier...¡± She came closer in careful steps.


    ¡°You followed me.¡± He sighed. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I know I¡¯m not in a position to take up your time,¡± she kneaded her hands, ¡°but I¡¯ve been looking for a gap to warn you about the Great Royal Queen for a while now.¡±


    ¡°Maathorneferure?¡±


    She nodded as she looked at him. There was certainty in her eyes, a kind of conviction that most slaves lacked. The most important thing in the lowest ranks was to survive and not become the plaything of another who would snatch their life away as soon as the game ended. Far too many were used for fun, only to be discarded at the end. Everyone who had no value served for pleasure.


    Dinem, however, was different.


    She was the most sought-after slave in the palace. She was educated, knew how to articulate herself and also how to read, although she couldn¡¯t write. Her cooking skills were acceptable - at least according to Bintanath - and she was good with her hands. Sewing a rip was no challenge for her. Her massages relaxed even the pharaoh and, although she probably didn¡¯t know about many things, she knew exactly how to adapt. Her worth accumulated from all the little things she had gained to find a permanent place in the palace. Dinem didn¡¯t have to worry about being thrown away, and yet in those seconds, it seemed like she was sacrificing all those things to warn him.


    Perhaps that was the truth.


    Catching the wrath of a Great Royal Queen was anything but helpful if one wanted to live a halfway comfortable life. If Maathorneferure said even one negative word about Dinem, she would be lost.


    Assou¡¯s shoulders suddenly weighed more than the stone of the pyramids. There was no reason for Dinem to put her post in jeopardy and yet she stood before him, looking at him as if everything depended on her report.


    ¡°I know the Great Royal Queen and I don¡¯t get along. But you don¡¯t need to worry about that.¡± He waved it off. ¡°I can easily handle this woman myself.¡±


    ¡°Of course, I¡¯m sure you can,¡± she confirmed. ¡°But, Vizier, she¡¯s planning something, and from what I¡¯ve been able to gather, it¡¯s supposed to be cruel. You would do well to keep your distance.¡±


    Perhaps that was the best option, but it wasn¡¯t nearly as satisfying as using the grave Maathorneferure was digging for him. It was only a slight argument, and if he played his cards right, she didn¡¯t stand a chance. Her way of dealing with politics had already proved that she wasn¡¯t cut out for it. He couldn¡¯t lose. All it took was a little more attention not to be driven into a corner.


    ¡°I won¡¯t hold back, Dinem,¡± the tjati finally replied. ¡°I have better things to do than be intimidated by a foreign queen. But I thank you for your concern.¡±


    The gentle smile on her lips made her charming. But Assou had no time to indulge in her optics. Work at the palace was waiting. So he nodded to her and turned away. The walk had already cost him enough energy.


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    The scenery cleared as quickly as the dark clouds that kept creeping over his senses. He couldn¡¯t let Maathorneferure upset him any more than he could lose heart over Fatrada. Everything had to progress in small, steady steps, even if that meant it would take an eternity to see results. Primarily, he had to serve Ramesses II well. Everything else came second. Or third.


    He sighed. His priorities shifted again with each encounter.


    The palace came to the fore. The surrounding people became fewer, more noble, more noticeable. Near the king, no one of low status dared to trade. Here there were only great merchants with fine wares. Wine was offered at every corner. Fresh meat was prepared. The streets smelled of work and spices. Assou let himself be carried away by the atmosphere. His pace slowed. Watching the offerings was a bit of freedom he savoured before hieroglyphics were the only thing left surrounding him.


    Still, the goods only passed him by and it took him little longer to reach the entrance of the palace. Slaves brought drinks to the guards nearby, while serene silence echoed along the walls. It was too hot to do any serious work. Presumably, even Ramesses had withdrawn to rest his heated thoughts. A short time in the garden usually brightened his mind.


    Assou let the idea wander. Spending time between attractive greenery would indeed have been a pleasant change of pace. However, it was also time that would be lost to him and although no one forced him to work and he controlled his chaos well, every moment away from his tasks seemed wasted - unless Fatrada was the content of his sparse breaks.


    No sooner had he set foot inside than he was met by two slaves with jugs of wine. One offered him something to drink and while the tjati waited to be served, he gestured to the other to get something done.


    ¡°Get me a messenger. I need him immediately.¡±


    With a deep bow, the slave left. Assou, meanwhile, took a sip of the sweet wine and let the moist sensation wet his sandy throat. Then he glanced over his shoulder, straight at the town that lay a few yards behind him. It was uniform, friendly life looking back at him. Humanity that the gods allowed on this land. Simultaneously, he thought he could see in the distance how much worse the circumstances were becoming. Some citizens were nibbling away at the poverty they had been left with and, although it wasn¡¯t meant to be this way, there was no way to change. Not in his position.


    He twisted his mouth. Ultimately, it all came down to the value an individual brought with them as they all tried to measure up to Aa and Wai. Everyone wanted to be closest to the gods, and perhaps that was why the standing of a single city could be so different.


    ¡°Vizier, a messenger, as requested.¡± The slave who had been sent away spoke up, snapping Assou out of his thoughts and making him glance at the boy who had been brought to him. It was the same one who usually worked for him. Presumably, they had found him in the palace and taken him instead of ordering one of the royal messengers.


    With a shooing hand gesture, he signalled the slave to disappear. He needed the quiet. No one could know what he was planning, even if Maathorneferure was unlikely to be unaware of his moves.


    ¡°Vizier, I wasn¡¯t finished with my search. There is no new information. And yet I returned to report to you that I need more time.¡± Uncertainly, the boy kneaded his fingers as his wide eyes rested on Assou. The latter gave him a smile.


    ¡°That isn¡¯t why I had you come. Forget Nagib for a moment.¡± He crouched down to put his hands on the boy¡¯s bare shoulders. He was hot; as if the sun was cooking him, though this child roamed light-heartedly through the shadows.


    ¡°You probably know that Fatrada had a day off the other day. Can you tell me what she does with her free time?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± the boy replied. ¡°But I¡¯ve seen her out in the fields a few times late at night. I think she goes for a walk.¡±


    ¡°Well then, I want you to watch Fatrada from now on,¡± the tjati continued. ¡°If you see her walking alone in the fields, I want you to come to me immediately.¡±


    ¡°I will!¡± Obediently, the boy bowed before turning around and running away on fast feet. He knew there was no hurry, and yet escape seemed a part of his existence.


    Assou watched him go until he could no longer even see the shadow of his messenger. Only then did he turn towards the interior of the palace, only to have Dinem¡¯s words once more register in his senses. She was nowhere to be seen for miles, but her warning was there - deep in his conscience.


    His thoughts pushed her aside.


    Leisurely, he disappeared inside the palace, leaving sand, dust and people behind him to indulge in tranquillity. All the way to his chamber, where he dropped behind his table and put his head in his hands. Then silence enveloped him. The air to breathe was heavy in his lungs and his senses spun. The heat was taking its toll; so was the reflection he couldn¡¯t control. Both consumed him.


    The mewing of a cat demanded his attention, drawing his gaze straight to the wondrous eyes of Amenti, who had settled on the table before him. Her fur shone, her slender form conveyed fragility, and this time Assou didn¡¯t dare stroke her. She was too mighty, too mystical for that in these moments - closest to Bastet.


    ¡°You come too soon if you long for a meal.¡± Without further ado, Assou leaned back. The cat mewed. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be spending your time with Ammon and Kuss instead? I don¡¯t think I¡¯m better company.¡±


    She stared him down before jumping off the table and actually walking to the door, making the tjati gather up again to open it for her. Her small paws led her out, and it was only when he closed the door that her presence also faded. Amenti was certainly the strangest cat that lived in this palace. But she was the only friendship he cultivated.


    He took it with a smile before settling down again behind his table and looking at the papyrus scrolls. A few of them he still had to read. The rest were to be sorted and put on the shelves. It wasn¡¯t much and yet it was an effort of hours staring him in the face. And somewhere behind these tasks, something lay heavy as stone on his shoulders.


    His gaze fell on the stone slab.


    Did he want to win this game?

 Fronts -1-

    The noise of crickets came through to him, nestling in his senses and tugging at his shoulders. The crackle that passed through his neck immediately afterwards made his groan stiff. Assou¡¯s eyes opened slowly before he lifted his head, trying to catch a picture of his surroundings. It was bright; the sun was already high in the firmament, and the papyrus beneath him had served as a cushion on the table; not very comfortable, but better than nothing.


    He shook his numb limbs back to life with difficulty and it took a moment for him to arrive at reality. The dreamless blackness had clouded his senses and yet let him go willingly. What remained was tiredness. His eyelids weighed heavier than two sacks of wheat, and the yawn that overcame him hardly wanted to end. He was awake and simultaneously stood with one foot in the darkness.


    Sluggishly, Assou picked himself up to follow the routine. Each step dragged him forward powerlessly. He could barely get down breakfast and although the wine was fresh, it tasted stale. Not even when he began his service at Ramesses II¡¯s side did the fog of his senses lift; as if Nun had him in his hands, undecided if this day was fit for work.


    ¡°I wish you a blessed day, my Pharaoh.¡± As Assou bowed to Ramesses, it was the papyrus scroll in his hands that woke him. He had read the outstanding reports the day before, but could barely remember any of it.


    Ramesses greeted him with a nod. His listlessness clearly exceeded that of the tjati and yet Assou didn¡¯t dare breathe a sigh of relief. Instead, he took his stance and opened the scroll in his hands to read out the most important information.


    ¡°Allow me to provide you with the latest information.¡±


    Ramesses¡¯ throwing away hand gesture was nothing more than an unwilling permission. He couldn¡¯t escape his duties any more than Assou could.


    ¡°Word has been received about the slaves of architecture,¡± the vizier began languidly. Every word he read sounded like chaos he didn¡¯t want to put into words. His king wouldn¡¯t be pleased with him ¨C or anyone. ¡°The hard work is having its effects. More than half the slaves have collapsed under the heat, starved or died of thirst. Construction is progressing slowly. The promised day off has encouraged some, though it hasn¡¯t proved to have much effect.¡± Assou¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°Those who sabotaged the work before have been located and punished.¡±


    Ramesses¡¯ sigh filled the entire throne room. ¡°See that new slaves are secured to replace the loss. I will accept no further delays.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Quick as a flash, the vizier rolled up the papyrus and pressed a hand to his chest. ¡°Do you have any special request regarding this task, or is the origin of the slaves irrelevant?¡±


    For a moment, Ramesses looked at him. His lips puckered, his brows drew together, and the narrow crease between them betrayed he was thinking about something. Only when the seriousness cleared from his face did he open up about his plan. ¡°Take the children from the villages who still oppose me. I have tolerated the feeble protest long enough. May no one think I haven¡¯t shown them my patience.¡±


    ¡°At what age shall these children be, my Pharaoh?¡±


    ¡°Young enough not to die after a day, yet old enough not to collapse under the weight of the stones,¡± replied Ramesses. ¡°Take the men from the families who cannot pay their tributes. Let it help pay off the debt.¡± He leaned back. ¡°And see that you have the bodies burned as quickly as possible. I don¡¯t care who belongs in which family. The gods will punish us if we hoard them too long.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, my Pharaoh.¡± It wasn¡¯t uncommon for the useless bodies of slaves to be burned. For people who had no value for eternity, mummification was nothing more than a waste of space.


    ¡°Besides,¡± Ramesses continued, ¡°I want you to arrange a big fire in a fortnight¡¯ time.¡±


    ¡°Is there an occasion?¡± Assou couldn¡¯t help raising his brows.


    ¡°Meritamen is expecting a child.¡± His pharaoh¡¯s shallow smile wasn¡¯t lost on him, and though he rarely showed much reaction, offspring was always an occasion for rejoicing.


    ¡°Understood. I will set everything in motion and arrange a feast to celebrate Bastet¡¯s blessing.¡± Followed by a deep bow, the tjati acknowledged his duties and took a few steps back to announce his departure silently. Only then did he turn and disappear into the corridors of the palace.


    His hasty impulses carried him straight to one of the royal messengers who had their small reporting station further back in the palace ¨C near the kitchen. With them, news gained importance. In addition, they were masters of silence ¨C thanks to the lack of tongues.


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    When he entered the small room with its four men, it was the smell of sweat and overripe fruit that made him wrinkle his nose. Still, he refused to be distracted and instead pointed his finger at a lanky man who was looking at him carefully. ¡°I need you to do something for me.¡±


    Without stopping, Assou took hold of the stone plate at his side and grabbed one of the blank papyrus scrolls hoarded in this place. Whenever a hasty piece of information had to leave the palace, it happened in this room. His hand reached for a nearby cup in which a bulrush waited. Next to it was the small, sealed pot of red paint. Without further ado, Assou pulled off the lid and dipped the rush into it, neatly writing a few hieroglyphics. Then he took the transcript, blew and waved it around until it seemed dry and could be rolled up.


    As he turned to the messenger and thrust the papyrus into his hand, he revealed its destination to him in the same breath. ¡°Go to the slave camp in the west. The construction work there is stalling. Pass this message to the overseer so he knows what to expect in the next few days.¡±


    Without hesitation, Assou turned and produced another document, which he forced on another messenger. ¡°You go to the commander of our soldiers. Give him this. He will know what to do.¡±


    Two messages. One to inform that there would soon be new slaves and one for the warriors who would split up to burn corpses and collect new slaves. Workers who would presumably be treated a little better because they came from their own country and hadn¡¯t been bought and brought from another.


    When Assou left the messengers¡¯ area, the sun still burned like fire through open areas and part of him longed to cool down. The dust and dirt that clung to his feet and legs needed to be washed off, and perhaps a bath would ensure that the last bit of tiredness finally disappeared.


    The path to the pool, which stretched over six metres and was at least as wide, captivated him. Although he often ended up in this place, the freedom overwhelmed him. It was said that Ramesses¡¯ first wife had designed this bath and the greenery that rested in pots on the sides of the room conveyed peace, which they lived every day in this realm. It was an oasis to relax in and ye it was just a basin full of water.


    His clothes came off his body more quickly than on other days and without looking back, he took careful steps into the sun-warmed water.


    There was no roof. All that kept this room clean were the tireless slaves who glided through it with cloths several times a day. They filtered the water, washed the basin, refilled it and made sure that each day went by cleanly for the people of the palace.


    At the side, near the entrance, there was a bucket of water with which to wash off part of the dirt, and even though it was etiquette to show up there first, Assou rarely followed the rules. Sometimes he didn¡¯t care about his filthy feet and sometimes he didn¡¯t care about the bucket. Instead, he enjoyed the water and sat back. His hands washed his upper body and arms, massaging the crook of his neck to ease the rigidity, and part of him seemed to drift off in a trance. The freshness didn¡¯t wake him; it added to the weariness.


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem quite in your right mind, Vizier.¡± A woman¡¯s voice caught up with him. Soft and familiar.


    He didn¡¯t need to turn to recognise her. Not even her bare breasts, which pressed against his back a little later, were met with astonishment. ¡°What are you doing here, Dinem? Don¡¯t you have anything to do?¡±


    She devoured the space, the peace that had so sweetly penetrated his nerves before. Dinem simply intervened, as if she didn¡¯t want him to have a rest. Instead, she snuggled up to him like a cat and let her hands glide feather-light over his torso.


    ¡°It¡¯s my job to make everyone of rank feel comfortable here,¡± she replied, ¡°and I¡¯m sure you could use someone to wash your back, Vizier.¡±


    Her words penetrated his head like honey. Everything that had seemed unsteady before was wrapped in cotton wool and disappeared. Dinem was a pleasant distraction and although she wasn¡¯t what he wanted, her presence played into his hands. Talking to a slave girl about trivial things would be a balm to his mind. Time would stand still and if it was Dinem, he had to put up with, it was an acceptable price.


    ¡°I take it I am interrupting your important musings?¡± Dinem¡¯s question wavered. Almost as if she didn¡¯t demand an answer. ¡°I can understand that you are tense between all the decisions and questions, but even if my presence seems uncomfortable, I promise you that this feeling will be forgotten in a few moments.¡±


    ¡°Is it that important to you for me to approve of your presence?¡± It didn¡¯t matter. She was a slave. At worst, he could send her away, and if she disobeyed, there was enough heavy stone to tie her to. An unadorned collar would remedy the situation.


    ¡°It is,¡± she confessed, ¡°I want to be close to you, Vizier. And I don¡¯t want you to perceive my presence as repulsive.¡± She pressed herself closer to him, so he believed he could sense every curve of her body. ¡°I desire you, Vizier. There is no greater gift for a slave to be close to a man like you. And if you have the slightest interest in me, I would be grateful should you give me a little affection.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± He really did. Probably because he held a position that could transform her from a slave to one of the richest and most desirable women in the country. It was simple. Just as simple to grasp as the fact he had no room in his heart for any woman other than Fatrada.


    Besides, desire didn¡¯t even come close to love.


    Dinem was just someone who roamed the palace, doing the chores she was told to do. He knew her. He had spoken to her more than to any other slave since Ramesses¡¯ last wedding. But she had never become someone he desired. Not with those soft words of love she breathed towards him. Her presence was nothing more but desire for him, and yet he didn¡¯t surrender to it.

 Fronts -2-

    ¡°Is that all?¡± Dinem¡¯s curiosity possessed the air of unaccustomed restlessness that nestled harshly against him, making Assou think he could hear her heartbeat. A clear, steady throbbing that he couldn¡¯t help but feel.


    ¡°What you feel for me, I cannot return,¡± he finally replied to her. With a step forward, he disengaged himself from her proximity. ¡°My heart already belongs to another.¡±


    He didn¡¯t look over his shoulder, nor did he take the liberty to wait. Whatever she was going to do, he wanted to leave her alone with it rather than have to deal with a broken heart. Lowering his eyelids, the tjati got out on the other side of the bath. Neither did he dry himself, nor did he let the rush shine through in his action. Instead, he put on his clothes and slipped back into the corridors of the palace; free of Dinem. She hadn¡¯t uttered a word in any of his fleeing breaths. Probably she had tried to hold her head high and not let on that his response wasn¡¯t what she had hoped for. Her heart stood at the gates of impossibility and she had realised it too late.


    Barely noticeable, Assou shook his head. You could have anything if you focused your entire existence on just that one thing. He had to believe in that. And maybe one day Dinem, too, would get what her heart desired. Not his love, but the affection of a man of good status who would be kind to her.


    His thoughts circled. Nothing wanted to hold him, and yet there were too many things that demanded his attention. He was left with only a few options that looked like they would bring peace. Everything hit him like a cold storm and yet, when he caught sight of the silvery fur of a cat, all the worries that threatened to build up disappeared.


    Without further ado, Assou stopped to look at the creature sitting peacefully, gazing at him out of sharp, yellow eyes.


    ¡°Kuss...¡± He hadn¡¯t seen the tom in ages. These creatures were as free-spirited as the birds that flocked in the sky, and yet Amenti had been so affectionate lately that it seemed strange to see Kuss and Ammon so rarely.


    The cat¡¯s mewing scratched harshly across the walls and, though Assou knew he couldn¡¯t have a conversation with him, he crouched down to hold out his hand. ¡°Are you looking for something to eat?¡±


    With gentle paws, Kuss approached him to nuzzle his fingers and pick up cuddles that usually only one of the Great Royal Queens gave him. Assou welcomed the distraction, the purr, and the calm that gently settled over his nerves. Bastet had sent wonderful beings into this world. Hearty souls that soothed confusion and chased away worry. The vizier took the minutes to stroke Kuss for as long as the tomcat would allow. It wasn¡¯t an eternity, and yet it was longer than expected. Immediately after, Kuss leapt ahead a few feet and, though Assou knew the tom could disappear into the shadows at any moment, he followed.


    Flickering outlines followed the walls in tiny patches, making the palace seem more alive than it usually was at this time of night.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Unintentionally, yet completely automatically, the vizier directed his question at the tom, who glanced only briefly over his shoulder. Perhaps Kuss understood what he was saying and asking. Or perhaps he only turned around because he perceived Assou¡¯s questions in the background as a simple, unexpected noise.


    Outside the door to his study, Kuss paused and sat down.


    ¡°So you just wanted to give me a safe path through the corridors?¡± The tjati¡¯s gentle smile couldn¡¯t be suppressed. Even the journey back passed within a few breaths at this cat¡¯s side. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The tom seemed to nod at him before rising and sauntering away in elegant strides. Assou watched him go, only a moment before he turned and entered his study.


    The atmosphere within those walls was the same that always accompanied him as he stared at the papyrus, hoping the work would take care of itself. But nothing moved. No sound reached him. The silence swallowed him completely and Assou gave himself over to the dizzying feeling of detached solitude. His legs carried him behind the table, where he settled on his seat cushion as usual, watching a bit of dust swirl up. Then he turned his attention to work. He had to make preparations to collect the taxes. The messengers would report soon. Things would start moving and the feast, in honour of Meritamen, was approaching.


    Little things that absorbed him, swallowed him up and wouldn¡¯t let him go. Sometimes he was overcome by darkness, which he knew how to subdue with a little fire. Now and then, however, the flames consumed him and exposed him to icy dreams. Food came and went, as did the messengers and slaves who cast glances at him as if they were worried about him. His legs tingled during some hours when he changed sitting position or got up to put away some notes.


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    The world passed in a rush.


    And yet, after four days, it stopped completely when Assou inhaled and the rush slipped from his hand. His eyes burned, his skin was greasy and the weight of a pyramid weighed on his body.


    With imbalance, Assou gathered to his feet to drag himself a few steps ahead to the door, where no one was waiting for him. His soles shuffled as he struggled into the small washroom, where he cleaned his face and hair before rinsing his body. The weight on his shoulders didn¡¯t lessen for a moment, and even under his eyes hung a heaviness that refused to leave. His muscles were tired. Just as exhausted as his head, which grasped every thought only through cotton wool.


    The palace and its slaves faded into vague awareness as he strolled down the corridor back to his room and ran straight into the arms of his messenger. The boy could barely hold his weight before the tjati staggered back a little and sorted his thoughts.


    ¡°Vizier, are you all right? You look ill.¡± The child¡¯s concern made Assou tighten his shoulders and nod.


    ¡°All is well,¡± he raised his hand, ¡°though I must confess I have lost sight of the doings of the palace.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I can assist you with that,¡± the boy offered, and he accepted with faint gratitude before opening the door to his study and settling down.


    The dizziness and fading perception cleared only sluggishly as he emptied a cup of stale wine and eyed the boy for a moment longer than necessary. He slid back and forth on his legs steadily, a smirk on his features, and though the vizier wasn¡¯t drawn to any of this, a part of him inside was scratching at strange hope he couldn¡¯t gauge. Listening was the least he could do. ¡°What do you have to report?¡±


    ¡°Not much, but still a few important things,¡± the boy replied. ¡°Fatrada, the woman I was supposed to watch, goes for a walk in the field every day when the sun has set. I meant to let you know earlier, but you were so engrossed in your work that I couldn¡¯t reach you.¡±


    The boy¡¯s words woke Assou. Fatrada. He hadn¡¯t seen her for four days as well, and though her absence hadn¡¯t been noticeable in that time, his insides stirred wildly in those seconds. It tingled, fluttered and ate at him. Her smile would erase even the greatest weakness in his body and plant a little sunshine in his mind, of that he was sure. Still, he refrained from jumping up and setting off at once. The sun hadn¡¯t set yet, though the sky was turning a shallow red.


    ¡°You hinted you could tell me something about the affairs of the palace. What is it?¡± With difficulty, Assou distracted himself with the rest of the conversation.


    ¡°That isn¡¯t much either, Vizier. But I heard that the beautiful Queen Maathorneferure hasn¡¯t come out of her chambers for several days. Some slaves at first thought she was ill, but most could confirm that she is enjoying good health. Physically, at least.¡± He lowered his voice as if to announce a conspiracy. ¡°They say she looks at the same spot all the time and only leaves her chambers when she has to. It runs like a rumour through the slaves, but they say she is filled with hatred because the Great Royal Queen Meritamen is expecting a child, while the beautiful Queen Maathorneferure hasn¡¯t been blessed.¡±


    Assou couldn¡¯t control the twitching of the corners of his mouth. If Maathorneferure had fallen so low as to feel jealousy towards another queen, the victory of this unnecessary argument with her became clearer. Then again, he knew that all these were nothing more than rumours floating around the palace ¨C a few of far too many, as he had noticed over the past few years. There were no trustworthy sources and yet it was a pleasant relief to think that not everything went as Maathorneferure had hoped.


    ¡°I¡¯d say it¡¯s definitely entertaining.¡± Casually, Assou dug out four gold coins and slid them towards the boy. ¡°Thank you for your efforts. I hope to continue working with you.¡±


    Eyes widening, the boy stared at the coins. He had probably never seen so much gold before and even if it wasn¡¯t the most valuable material on the market, it left an impression.


    ¡°Vizier, I cannot accept this.¡± Hastily, the child looked up at him and Assou couldn¡¯t help but tilt his head and put on a smile. This boy was one of the best messengers he had come across in a long time and even if four gold pieces were clearly too much, he deserved it.


    ¡°Take them by all means. They are yours,¡± he clarified. Still, the messenger didn¡¯t move for a moment before he collected the money with nimble fingers and looked at him with wide eyes. Mouth open, the words failed him on the tongue.


    ¡°You are dismissed for now. Enjoy your free time, but stick around in case I need you.¡± Serenely, the tjati gestured to the door. ¡°You are free to go.¡±


    Instantly, the boy jumped to his feet before bowing low and scurrying out of the room that welcomed Assou into solitude. The cotton in his head had subsided and with each successive breath, it became easier to focus on the actual obstacles. Maathorneferure wouldn¡¯t be a problem for a while, which meant he could focus solely on Fatrada.


    His gaze fell outside, where the fresh air clung heatedly to his mind and the sun was slowly disappearing behind the horizon. Not long now and Fatrada would be on her way. He had to prepare himself.


    Instantly, Assou picked himself up and patted the clothes on his body. He might please her better if his clothes were simpler than the others¡¯. Not too flashy and yet good enough to prove that he could be whatever he wanted. So that he didn¡¯t seem like someone who focused on the precious things. Fatrada needed to be the centre of attention.


    His feet floated across the floor as he fled his study and headed straight outside. Most were selling their wares late into the darkness. Clothes adorned the nearby stalls. Going home and rummaging through his own fabrics wouldn¡¯t help him. All he owned were neatly chosen garments that flattered him as a vizier. His parents had taught him from an early age that it was important to pay attention to how the Pharaoh saw him. He had never changed that.


    This one small step was for Fatrada alone.

 Night stroll -1-

    The first dress stall that didn¡¯t look like it sold the most expensive stuff attracted Assou. Even before he was noticed, he had positioned himself in front of the salesman and straightened his shoulders. It took barely a breath before he was recognised.


    ¡°Vizier!¡± the man opposite him gasped. ¡°What can my humble stall do for you?¡±


    ¡°I seek clothing,¡± Assou returned. ¡°Simple clothing that will make me look like a man of common people.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can help you with that.¡± The man before him seemed lost. His eyes wandered over the merchandise, but it was impossible to decide on anything useful. ¡°My goods don¡¯t do justice to your presence.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± Tersely, the vizier waved it off. ¡°I want something that a common man will wear. It matters not whether it does me justice or not.¡±


    ¡°I-if you are sure of that...¡± The vendor hesitated for a moment before combing through his wares and pulling out a piece of cloth. ¡°I have this light shendyt here. It only goes to the knees, though. And please allow me to offer you this tunic as well.¡±


    Both were colourless and without embellishment. Neither pleated nor remarkably well made. They were light, simple fabrics that caused heart palpitations because they were strongly reminiscent of what Nagib had worn. Fatrada would notice the change and she would think that he, too, could live as a simple man ¨C which wasn¡¯t a lie. He was just a man with the great fortune of possessing an important task in life.


    By now, the sun had half disappeared behind the horizon. The walk back to the palace and the straightening of his clothes would make the evening fall. Then he would be ready to meet Fatrada¡¯s eyes.


    Hastily, he paid for the pieces of cloth before turning away and making his way back. The whispering of people, the snippets of conversation that caught up with him, brought the paths pleasantly to life all at once. The lively mood everyone brought with them lightened his every step. A bit as if it were contagious and chased the good mood right under his skin, where he knew how to enjoy every moment.


    It wasn¡¯t until he reached the palace that the silence caught up with him and brought calm, emptying his thoughts. No one met him on the way to his study, no one waited for him behind hidden shadows. There was only him, in the middle of a world quieter than the night before him.


    Between papyrus and paint, Assou changed his clothes. The simple tunic was airy, though not what he had expected, and the shendyt completed the image of a commoner. It fitted together and yet there was this feeling that he had no business in the palace dressed like that. If Maathorneferure saw him, he was sure to be ridiculed. With a soft sigh, Assou pushed the thoughts away. He had to concentrate on what lay before him, and that was none other than Fatrada. The woman who had clouded his senses and yet, in no breath, allowed herself to be flustered by him and his position.


    Once more, he adjusted his clothes and ran a hand through his pitch-black hair. Then he set off, back into the city, down to the fields that lay quite a distance from the palace. On foot, it took an eternity. Even if he could have covered the distance with a horse from the royal stables, he had to cling to the image he wanted to convey to her. The image that would convince Fatrada instead of her smiling at him.


    Taking a horse and hiding it later was out of the question. The animals were more valuable than most of the palace¡¯s treasures and no one would pass up the opportunity to steal one if the circumstances presented themselves. The only way left for him was on foot. That, and the certainty that Fatrada would look at him with different eyes if he proved he could do as much as Nagib.


    The dusty path led him past houses, along small green plants that some had painstakingly brought to life, and also along reeds growing by the water. Smells mingled, combining spices with the scent of damp clothes. Watching the lives of others go by in this way differed from chasing past it all on horseback. For the first time, Assou had time to look around. Every step brought him forward and gave him the opportunity to look at this land in all its beauty. Even as circumstances became poorer and he watched eight people living in a small house that might have held two horses. It was these families that he came to visit in the foreseeable future to collect taxes. As a vizier, he simply came and went, breezes in his hair and water on a belt. This time the wind was still, he had no water with him, and time passed more slowly.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    These people were poor. They had the bare necessities to feed themselves and to sleep full at the end of the day, but they owned only that. Worn clothes that had been sewn back together more than once clothed slender bodies. The men in this place were nothing like the traders in the upper part of the city. They were thin, even gaunt, and yet strong enough to go about their work in the fields. Some of them were far older than Assou, wearing only a shendyt and leaving their upper bodies bare. Ribs stood out. Skin wrinkled at the crooks of their arms.


    Assou sucked it in. Ramesses had brought peace with him, and yet there was still poverty. They weren¡¯t needy enough to not have a roof over their heads, but the differences remained devastating. It was unlike anything one perceived in the quick ride through.


    Two children crossed his path, playing catch with each other while a woman shouted something in the background. Their laughter made the situation more light-hearted.


    The fields were getting closer. Whenever he glanced at the horizon, darkness greeted him, growing gloomier with each image that slid past. Behind it, a sparkle spread across the sky. Tiny dots, not yet wanting to be noticed, but slowly growing. Assou counted them. Over and over, trying to tame the emptiness within that generously nestled against the melancholy.


    Until he arrived at the fields.


    The smell of plants tickled his nose and the humid air made breathing harder than between people and goods. A few torches had been lit to light the crooked side paths and also to guard the fields. It wasn¡¯t difficult to spot some soldiers who had been assigned. The proud bearing and clear purpose in their eyes were unmistakable. Each of them knew what they had to do, and they accepted their tasks with swollen chests as if it would raise their reputation.


    Assou eyed them as he passed. They all kept their bodies straight, their gaze fixed forward, and none recognised him in the simple clothing. Everyone who wore nothing remarkable systematically belonged to the common people. That simplified his walk.


    Without pausing, Assou turned onto the path to the right. It was the best route to circle the fields once and then get back on the track to return. Fatrada was probably thinking the same thing. The likelihood of running into her on this path was the greatest he could think of.


    His walk became a trot. He had to catch up, find her, turn evening into day because it was all he knew to look forward to. The restlessness inside and the tingling on his skin made him smile. So wide that he could no longer stop it as his breath swept in bursts across his lips and his eyes slid intently from right to left and back. Guarded by watchmen and wheat, there was no change in his surroundings. Houses lay in darkness. Torches drew shadows into endless eternity.


    A woman rested by the wayside.


    And Assou stopped.


    His gasp stole the silence of the night as he eyed the dark figure. It took a moment before they turned to him, picked themselves up, and disengaged from the shadows. Towards him came the astonished face of Fatrada.


    ¡°Vizier Assou, what are you doing here? And ... these clothes?¡± She caught his presence with a glance and her brows lifted. The fire of the torches shone in her eyes, while her airy clothes left lovely charm on her body.


    ¡°I am merely taking one of my walks,¡± Assou replied. He had been thinking of that sentence for what seemed like an eternity. It was a believable little lie to avoid looking like a complete fool. But Fatrada¡¯s smile made his heart sink a stage lower.


    ¡°Your walk? With all the respect the gods can muster, but since when do you spend your walk running around?¡±


    It hadn¡¯t escaped her notice that he had been in a hurry. The haste was still in his limbs, and the certainty that his excuse had been blown within seconds shamed him. Fatrada wasn¡¯t a woman who made herself look stupider than she was and she didn¡¯t care that she was putting him in an awkward position.


    ¡°I ... got caught, I suppose.¡± Embarrassed, he scratched the back of his head. There were no words to talk his way out of this mishap. All that remained was for him to play along. ¡°Well then, I must confess that I was looking for you.¡±


    ¡°For me?¡± Slowly she pushed her way back to stroll ahead at a leisurely pace. Assou followed. ¡°What makes you come looking for me?¡±


    ¡°Self-interest.¡± He didn¡¯t know how to put it without making her feel backed into a corner. He couldn¡¯t possibly tell her that he had sent a messenger after her.


    ¡°The guards,¡± he then began slowly. ¡°They told me that there was a woman hanging around the fields late at night. When they described to me who it was, I thought I¡¯d find out myself. And ... what can I say? As I walked along here, I was afraid I might miss you, so I ran.¡±


    Fatrada tilted her head to the side so she could look at him. The smile on her features refused to believe him, and yet she seemed to find joy in this conversation. Something that entertained her and that Assou was happy to indulge in if it meant being able to spend time with her.


    ¡°Well, vizier Assou, you have found me. What do you want from me?¡± She clasped her hands behind her back as Assou could hear the beating of his heart rushing in his ears.


    Inner tightness stole his breath and made him vulnerable so that he hardly dared to open his mouth. Anyone else would have told her long ago what the meaning of these circumstances was. But Assou found no comparison with others in this chaos full of logical conclusions and illogical options behind them. In those breaths, he had her attention. A little hope away from her work. Here he didn¡¯t have to buy a sack of wheat to have a conversation with her.

 Night stroll -2-

    ¡°I would like to walk this path with you. And perhaps you might be interested in a conversation.¡±


    ¡°One that will last longer than a moment?¡± This time, Fatrada turned to face him fully. She knew that the breaths in the market had passed far too quickly, and that he had been unhappy with the outcome; and that despite his best efforts not to attract attention.


    ¡°That would be nice.¡± It was impossible not to be charmed by her. Her long hair braided into a plait, she appeared like a woman who managed her tasks with thoughtfulness and yet possessed a certain understanding of everything.


    ¡°What do you want to talk about, vizier Assou?¡±


    He mused for a moment. Outside the palace, he knew only the few images he stumbled across when he collected taxes. Simultaneously, there were the new impressions. The certainty that he was missing something important. The poverty of the lower town was unmistakable. But talking to Fatrada about it would strain their tempers. It would expose the gulf between them. He wanted a nice evening, without serious issues that could come between them. So he shrugged his shoulders. There was nothing he could think of that wasn¡¯t related to Maathorneferure or the other insidious issues behind it.


    ¡°You come to speak without a subject?¡± Fatrada¡¯s amusement rose. ¡°Do you always keep it that way with your interlocutors?¡±


    ¡°I ... rarely have anyone to talk to but Ramesses.¡± Assou pursed his lips. He was doing worse than expected. He knew his duties and knew how to communicate them. A conversation with Dinem was the easiest thing in the world. But everything outside the palace resembled an alien world he couldn¡¯t master.


    ¡°No?¡± Fatrada¡¯s brows lifted. ¡°Yet I thought that the pharaoh¡¯s vizier would always do nothing but talk to people.¡±


    ¡°Primarily, I do a lot of writing,¡± he confessed. ¡°Away from that, I also carry out most tasks in written form. Communication is ... a rather rare concern that usually catches up with me when I least expect it.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? Then I will make it easier for you. Ask me a question and I will give you an answer. Then I will ask a question and you will answer me. How does that sound?¡± Fatrada abandoned the lead. Instead, she settled beside Assou.


    For the first time, they found space next to each other in this way and it was a rare, comforting feeling that came over the tjati. This one moment could be the beginning of infinity. They would be able to stay together forever if only time stopped. All of it, if Djehuti stopped the flow of life.


    ¡°If you ask in this way ... tell me, where are you from?¡± His first question came over him completely detached and even if it sounded trivial at first glance, he wanted to cling to whatever little information it could give him. Every word shaped her, made her an old acquaintance in whose arms he could lose himself.


    ¡°I would like to say that I come from another land. From a forgotten time when the gods themselves still rested in the lands. But that would be too far-fetched,¡± Fatrada began, half in thought. ¡°I was born in Mennefer.¡±


    ¡°Ah, one of our most important cities.¡±


    ¡°Probably. I am the third child of four. The only daughter,¡± Fatrada continued. ¡°My brothers have devoted themselves to trade and have advanced in life with moderate success. I, however, was married off so that I could get a job. My parents didn¡¯t want me to stay with them and perhaps not find a man ¨C or sell myself worse. A man who harvests wheat doesn¡¯t earn much, but it is a secure job that can feed us. That was good enough for my parents.¡±


    ¡°If only they had looked a little closer.¡± Assou couldn¡¯t help but shake his head. ¡°You are such a beautiful woman. I am sure a man of better status would have seen you. You might even have been allowed to experience love.¡±


    ¡°Love...¡± She sank further into thought, almost as if there was a memory that made her reach back to that one feeling. Assou watched her, clinging to the certainty that all of that was far too long in the past. In those moments, there were only the two of them.


    It took a while, during which they walked side by side in silence, for Fatrada to find her words. ¡°I think I have loved before. But it was brief and nothing that lasted long. Nagib is the only constant that has stayed with me every day since.¡±


    Her features remained motionless, completely untroubled, although the work had to be hard. She didn¡¯t show it and sauntered along beside him as if there was nothing that could still save this world. But Assou thought he noticed something else behind it. Somewhere hidden in her voice was the shallow sound of bitter origins that otherwise found no place. It made the moment more real and Fatrada more human. Where all this time she had seemed like a perfect blossom in the middle of constant heat, now she revealed the faint imperfections of her smile ¨C the frail side that was probably only found among humans.


    Her soft steps, her forward gaze, the silence that surrounded them both, squeezed Assou¡¯s throat. A part of him wanted to show courage. The rest tried to let the silence pass so as not to conjure up a storm.


    But he was the vizier. He would never get another chance like this. Not least because Maathorneferure would surely recover from her own restlessness before long, and also because between work and the king, there was only the market that could give him a few glances at Fatrada.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    So he took the plunge. ¡°Are you happy?¡±


    She looked at him. It was barely noticeable, but she towered over him by a few inches. Not enough for her to look down at him as Maathorneferure did, but enough for her to face him easily. Her thoughtful expression brought renewed silence before she gave him a smile.


    ¡°We all do our best to be happy at the end, vizier Assou.¡± She turned her attention forward again. ¡°Yes, I am happy. Because I know how to live my life without wondering what I could have done better.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t an answer. At least not one that inspired satisfaction, which was why Assou pressed a sigh over his lips. She knew how to handle her life, but it had nothing to do with luck. There was more to it than avoiding disaster. Love was a component of all that. Something, someone to confide in. It needed harmony, which she didn¡¯t possess with Nagib, even if they were similar in some ways. Perhaps Fatrada had turned him into what Assou had seen at the market. As if she possessed a magic that helped her find calm in the eye of the storm.


    ¡°Why do you ask?¡± Fatrada¡¯s question snapped him out of the vortex of his uncertainty. He had to remain attentive. Nothing was more important than listening to her. He could worry about everything else when he was back in the palace, sitting bent over papyrus.


    ¡°I ... simply thought that surely there were still plenty of ways to forsake this life. You have the charm of a woman who can find a place even in the higher ranks.¡±


    ¡°I like to doubt that.¡± She laughed, soft and melodious, as if connected to the wind. ¡°I am but a simple girl, entitled to no more than has been given to me already. And I¡¯m in no position to challenge that.¡±


    ¡°And what if I told you that you very well might have that chance?¡±


    She was far too humble if she couldn¡¯t put into words that she resembled a gem that belonged to the top ranks. She deserved more than the wheat she sold and much more than a man who could give her nothing.


    ¡°Your thought is very kind, vizier Assou. But what chance should it be?¡± All at once, she looked at him and the gleam in her eyes challenged his courage. As if she knew what rested on his heart. Something she wanted to hear. Her words invited him to confess. A glimmer of hope that Assou grasped in its darkness and held tightly in his hands. Then he stopped.


    The world should let him burn. It wasn¡¯t the right moment, nor had he been able to do anything to convince her. Still, he couldn¡¯t let her challenge go.


    ¡°You could break up with Nagib and become my wife.¡± His words sounded like a normal offer made to a woman he desired. Yet it constricted his chest and made his shoulders twitch. He had never given himself to a woman in this way before and it didn¡¯t get any better when Fatrada just stood there looking at him.


    ¡°Do you mean to tell me you feel something for me, the wheat seller?¡± She was still smirking. A smile that was shrouded in shadow by the flames of the torches.


    ¡°I do,¡± Assou confirmed firmly. ¡°I love you, Fatrada. And even though I am in no position to make this confession to you, I am sure I can make you happy. You would never have to sell wheat again and you could follow your heart¡¯s desire ¨C whatever that may be. May the gods guide you.¡±


    ¡°I believe the gods have already led me into the arms of another.¡± She tilted her head to the side before her smile faded. What remained was the gleam in her eyes. ¡°I thank you. It is a beautiful feeling that there is someone in this land who loves me. But I cannot accept your offer.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Outrage crept into his voice louder than he wanted to admit. His heart raced as the tightness in his throat threatened to tear him to pieces. He had no chance and yet Fatrada seemed to be holding her arms open for him. ¡°Is it ... because you don¡¯t desire me? That¡¯s not a problem. I will do everything in my power to make you love me.¡±


    ¡°I take back what I once said.¡± Her laughter remained toneless. ¡°You¡¯re not very confident about yourself, are you?¡± She took a few steps towards him. All at once she was far too close and the smell of her body clung to him.


    Instantly, Assou pushed through his back. Of course, he was confident. He was the pharaoh¡¯s vizier! But facing her was something else. She wasn¡¯t a woman he could just have, and she wasn¡¯t someone who put up with his every word. Fatrada possessed something that made him more cautious ¨C with his words and his actions. Every step was planned. And it made him uneasy in a completely different way.


    ¡°I would argue that I know my position,¡± the tjati ultimately replied.


    ¡°Knowing your position and knowing what charm you have to a woman¡¯s eyes are two entirely different things.¡± She leaned forward so that her forehead brushed against his. For a moment, her every thought belonged to him and simultaneously he had no place in her world. ¡°I can¡¯t become anyone¡¯s wife anymore because I already have a man.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not an obstacle. Separating and finding a better alternative isn¡¯t forbidden.¡± He wanted to grab her, hold her close, and never let her go. The heat on his skin burned as the rest of him waited in comfortable warmth. His body craved closeness, but his mind knew better. He was in no position to give himself to Fatrada.


    ¡°I am a woman of my word, Vizier Assou,¡± Fatrada finally replied. ¡°I would not leave Nagib even if they made me the richest woman in the world in return. When my parents married me to him, I made him a promise to stay by his side. No matter what.¡± She broke away from him. ¡°And my fidelity is my pride and joy.¡±


    Her expression left no doubt. She knew what she was talking about, and the gleam in her eyes left no room for regret. She had found her home and the only way to free her from this place was to find another option. Something other than leaving Nagib.


    ¡°Is that good enough for you to let me go, vizier Assou?¡± Tilting her head to the side, Fatrada waited for that one, inevitable answer to wither on his tongue. Letting her go wasn¡¯t an option. He hadn¡¯t yet given his all, hadn¡¯t yet shown her the sweet moments at his side. She was a woman to be honoured. A person who didn¡¯t always look for the best.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can do that.¡± Assou¡¯s thoughts fled the moment, the situation, as he moved closer to her and breathed a shallow kiss on her cheek. ¡°I can let you go for today. But please, let me keep trying. I¡¯m sure I can win your heart.¡±


    ¡°You talk a lot about love, for being a vizier.¡± Fatrada smirked, giving him the bit of wonder he usually got from her in the market. ¡°What makes you want to keep trying?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s you.¡± It was the only appropriate answer. Fatrada possessed a different way of expressing herself, and she stood behind the burdens of life. At the market, she had simply been the most beautiful woman he had ever met. However, meeting her at such a late hour added a soul to the picture he had painted. A gentle, kind heart that possessed strength and determination where others lacked backbone.


    The late hours had proved him right. His heart was at home by her side. Her smile captivated his senses and knowing that there was much more to her than those few breaths they had shared drew him in. Where before he had simply fallen for her, now the true form of Hathor greeted him. Love had caught up with him, as had the conviction that he had to do much more to win Fatrada over.

 Liar -1-

    She had left him standing there with a laugh, just like that, as if he had let out something amusing that pulled her tightly and carried her away. His confession had disappeared deep into the night and Assou thought it might have faded away somewhere between houses and chores. Long after Fatrada had listened to him.


    The sigh on the tjati¡¯s lips stuck to the walls that enclosed him like a cage. In front of him lay an open papyrus scroll and, though he had wanted to work through it ages ago, all he felt was the certainty of sitting in this place and creating nothing. The bulrush in his hand had dried up and the silence that engulfed him drew his thoughts in the wrong direction.


    The evening he had spent together with Fatrada was already two days in the past. There was no longer any reason to recall her smile. Soon he could visit her again at the market. There was still hope that one day he could hold her in his hands. All he had to do until then was to complete Ramesses¡¯ tasks.


    Duties that weren¡¯t diminishing.


    The click of his tongue broke the silence as he threw the rush on the table and shook his head. Then he put his hands in front of his eyes, propped his elbows on the table and concentrated on breathing. The oxygen in his lungs was hot and heavy, making even breathing more complicated than it should be. Fatrada was robbing him of his mind, he couldn¡¯t doubt that. It was real. She had a power over him that no one else held. She was the woman of his dreams and simultaneously the downfall of his position if he didn¡¯t get his act together.


    He lingered in his position a little longer before slapping his cheeks with both hands and tightening his shoulders. The work wasn¡¯t doing itself and apart from that, it wasn¡¯t as if he hadn¡¯t been able to get anything together in the last few days. The slaves¡¯ circumstances had settled. Many workers had replaced the lost goods of their own free will to feed their families better and after extensive discussions with Ramesses, the pharaoh had also decided that he had to treat his own people better than outsiders. Thus, the wages of some were assured, the taxes of the families were reduced and the entries were almost complete. Only a few names were still missing from the neatly kept list Assou had prepared. Another document for the shelves where sand and dust gathered.


    A mew.


    Instantly, Assou snapped out of his posture and glanced sideways as the cracking sound in his back coursed through his entire body. Next to him, Amenti had settled down. The black fur shone in the incoming light, and yet he thought she looked dusty.


    ¡°Where have you been?¡± Brows raised, he bent to the cat to pat the dirt from her fur with gentle movements. She remained seated, taking the attention and looking at him from impenetrable emeralds ¨C as if he had forgotten something.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have anything. You¡¯re early,¡± the tjati went on, half in thought. She probably understood him better than he understood her. At least some days, she responded appropriately to his words. Meanwhile, she gave him peace of mind. Whenever Amenti appeared, it was easy to forget Fatrada. The soft fur, the growl in her throat, all these little things put the past and the coming into the background. With Amenti, only the moment mattered.


    The thought made him smile wearily. ¡°You could say that you are indeed my only friend.¡±


    A cat, of all things; a creature that was completely alien in its kind. She was an emissary of the goddess Bastet and yet she was more approachable than any deity on record. He meant no disrespect, but Amenti felt more real under his fingers than any prayer he had uttered as a child.


    As the cat rose and gained distance, Assou took the moment to stretch. The distraction, away from Fatrada and the duties of his position, had formed a pocket of air that allowed him to take a breath. It gave him easy, faux freedom to cling to ¨C if only for a moment. Then another sigh followed and the weight that settled on his shoulders like an old friend greeted him familiarly. His gaze roamed the room, only to linger on the open door through which Amenti had presumably entered ¨C the entrance from which he had expected more than a cat.


    After returning from his walk with Fatrada, he had sent for his messenger. Watching Nagib¡¯s activities was the only hope he had left after the rejection and although he had told the boy to report back daily, he hadn¡¯t come back once in all that time. The land seemed to have swallowed him up and no matter how Assou looked at it, the aftertaste remained bland.


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    He had to do something about it.


    Without further ado, Assou pulled himself to his feet. His study faded into the background, Amenti into oblivion, and his first stop was in the kitchen, where he wordlessly grabbed a jug of wine and filled one cup twice. With that, the taste on his tongue disappeared, but the restlessness remained.


    His path led him on, this time out of the palace, to a point where the common messengers bustled about, resting. He had told the boy to stay within range, which also meant that he was either resting in a messenger¡¯s camp and possessed of an explanation, or that he was still going about his task. He knew this child wasn¡¯t a disappointment. He had been well served, and all his wishes had been fulfilled. That he brought no word back meant that there had to be a reason, and it was an open secret that sometimes someone disappeared on the paths of the land. If the boy had been in danger, it was solely on the vizier¡¯s orders.


    Assou didn¡¯t want to think about it. So much bad in such a short time was not a punishment he deserved with all his work. In addition, there were other options. Maybe the boy didn¡¯t want to report because there was nothing to report. Results were important and few people reported when they had nothing. He was a good kid. A smart kid who knew his post.


    The small messengers¡¯ shelter drew closer with each step. The mass of people slid past them as if they were nothing more than shadows of the sand. It was the perfect condition to get information unseen while believing that no one had anything to hide. But after the night in Maathorneferure¡¯s chambers at the latest, Assou knew everyone was hiding a secret.


    A few children had gathered under the stand. Some of them sat on the floor massaging their legs, others slept. Only one of them looked like he was going to make a run for it, and Assou hurried to reach him before he ran off.


    ¡°You there!¡± He raised his hands to signal the boy he would claim a moment, and though this child¡¯s feet were set to run, he ultimately stopped and waited for the tjati to arrive.


    ¡°How can I help, sir?¡± The timid voice was so soft that the vizier could barely hear it. He had to listen carefully for a moment before he understood.


    ¡°I am looking for a messenger boy. I assigned him to watch someone for me and asked that he would come back to me every day to tell me what he had experienced. But he has been missing for two days and I would be lying if I said I didn¡¯t care.¡± Without further ado, Assou pulled out two gold coins. ¡°Would you help me look for him?¡±


    The boy eyed the payment before nodding cautiously and tilting his head barely a moment later. ¡°What does he look like?¡±


    ¡°He...¡± Assou only knew how to start, but not how to form the sentences. Looking at the child in front of him and looking at the other messenger boys, there was little to distinguish them. They all had bare torsos. Their feet were dirty and defenceless. No jewellery, no distinctive features on their faces. They all wore the same haircut. It was impossible to describe his messenger without mentioning all the others at once.


    The boy opposite him followed Assou¡¯s gaze before putting on a faint smile. ¡°You noticed?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s ... very hard not to notice,¡± Assou replied. ¡°But it makes it harder to find someone.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the point,¡± the boy replied. ¡°If one of us gets into trouble, we can all help and lead the threat astray. But I believe there is concern in your heart. So tell me, what mission did you give the boy?¡±


    Assou took the time to look at the messenger a moment longer. They were all a smart little bunch. Trusting them could be a curse and a blessing in one. But his messenger was missing, and these children were the only clue he had.


    ¡°He was supposed to shadow a man named Nagib for me. He works in the field, growing wheat and simultaneously is attached to young Fatrada from the wheat stall,¡± the tjati explained in the end. ¡°It isn¡¯t a dangerous assignment, as I¡¯m sure Nagib wouldn¡¯t lay a hand on a young boy.¡±


    Hastily, Assou closed his mouth. What made him so sure? He didn¡¯t know Fatrada¡¯s man. Perhaps he had indeed done something to the young messenger. Anything was possible, and yet a tiny spark inside didn¡¯t want to believe that this man was capable of it. Fatrada wouldn¡¯t forgive him. Never. There had to be another answer, and yet Assou could hardly think of anything but Nagib.


    ¡°I see.¡± The boy¡¯s thoughtfulness towards him snapped him out of his thoughts. Resting a small hand against his chin, he finally nodded and looked at the vizier one more time. ¡°I am sure I know who you are looking for, sir. I will seek him out and bring him to you.¡± He held out a hand. ¡°But I am putting myself in uncertain danger by doing so. Understand if I wish to claim the reward at once.¡±


    ¡°The main thing is that I get an answer.¡± Without further ado, Assou pressed the coins into the boy¡¯s hand and watched him disappear. His scrawny legs carried him away so quickly that Assou couldn¡¯t even count to ten before he was just a pale shadow in the middle of others.


    The sigh on his lips weighed heavily despite this, and it took him an eternity to break free from his spot to turn around. This boy would seek him out at the palace, of that he was sure. After all, his position wasn¡¯t a secret any more than his home was. In shuffling movements, Assou dragged himself towards the palace. But the bigger the structure grew, the more something ate at his body. Not even when he glanced back could he see the reason. The only thing he understood was that he didn¡¯t want to go back. Not yet.

 Liar -2-

    He turned around. It would help if he started looking, too. It was better than sitting in the palace, adding up numbers to record them later with the bulrush on papyrus. None of this had any urgency. With a little more vigour, the tjati turned his attention to the town where his messenger had been lost. The glorious hustle and bustle and the smells crashed down on him as if he had been pushing them away all along. This time they took the freedom to settle into his clothes, bathing the bright, lacklustre fabrics, which simultaneously proved expensive workmanship, in a mixture of joy and life.


    Assou followed the scents, drifting with the crowd and gliding ahead, hoping to see in some corner the boy who had simply not dared to return without finding anything worth mentioning. But instead of encountering a missing child, Dinem met him with a basket of fruit. Her dark eyes and elegant stride captivated him for a moment before he raised his brows to speak up ¨C long after she had noticed him.


    Part of him expected advice, combined with a charming attempt to sweet-talk him. But she didn¡¯t even take a step towards him. Instead, she averted her eyes and didn¡¯t pause even when she was within reach. Their shadows passed each other as if there wasn¡¯t enough room on the walls and Assou let the silence Dinem left in his mind linger a little longer.


    It wasn¡¯t unpleasant. Having her at a distance possessed detached freedom that brought Fatrada to the fore. Dinem had understood his rejection, and she didn¡¯t force herself on him ¨C not as many other women often dared to do when they couldn¡¯t get what they craved. In her eyes, there was no value in chasing someone when there were plenty of other high-ranking men whose heads she could turn.


    She was no threat.


    Snorting, he shook his head. She had never been a danger, no matter how he looked at it. Some days she was a little more pushy than others, but ultimately she had always helped him. Maybe if she got over the rejection, they could become friends. Then there would be someone else besides Amenti who was on his side.


    His thoughts detached from the slave girl. She faded into the background as he watched the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Everyone had a clear mission and yet some seemed to be taking the day at a slower pace. The wheat stall, which had to be nearby, was missing. Fatrada was probably taking a walk in the field, or visiting Nagib. Either was a possibility, and both drove Assou to want to follow her. If both of them were in the field, then his messenger had to be nearby. And so was the boy who was looking for him.


    His legs carried him on, along the heat, through shadows, out into the open expanse where only a few poor people roamed, going about their daily chores. This time Assou paid no attention to them, dragging himself forward instead, while his breath rolled unevenly over his lips. Walking such a distance by day differed completely from doing it by night. Re burned him down, armed with a wry smile because perhaps he didn¡¯t want to and yet he couldn¡¯t help it. The ground beneath his feet was soft, sandy, swallowing his footsteps and making him soundless whenever he stepped. It bathed every movement in effort and it was only when the ground became harder by the fields that the tjati thought he was making faster progress.


    In the distance, the workers could be seen and Assou allowed himself a break as he shielded his eyes and looked at the figures in the distance. Most of them wore a short shendyt that just covered the bare necessities, while the rest shone naked under the sun. Women brought food, guards eyed isolated men, and the rest were knee-deep at work. It seemed like they did nothing else every day, and even if it was just that, Assou could hardly believe that anyone could work under the burning sun. He himself wouldn¡¯t have lasted more than a few breaths.


    ¡°I see you are taking a break from your labours.¡± The soft words of a woman made him whirl around until Fatrada came into view. ¡°Are you planning to help in the field?¡±


    Without further ado, Assou looked down at himself. His clothes were too good to be soiled by the field and, in fact, it occurred to him at that moment that he had better things to do than admire the men at work.


    ¡°No,¡± he replied slowly. ¡°I am looking for one of my messengers. He was supposed to report to me and yet he didn¡¯t come back.¡± He bowed his head. ¡°I had hopes of finding him here.¡±


    ¡°A messenger from the palace?¡± Fatrada¡¯s brows lifted.


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    ¡°No, a messenger on personal business.¡± His gaze remained hard. With luck, she wouldn¡¯t notice. ¡°A messenger boy, to be exact.¡±


    ¡°Ah... One of those you can find in the upper area near the palace.¡± She nodded as if to grasp the understanding. ¡°And probably the reason you knew when I was taking my walks.¡±


    She was smarter than he would have liked, and yet Assou didn¡¯t hesitate to wave it off. ¡°I have to disappoint you there. He was to bring me information on certain matters best learned in secret.¡±


    It was the simplest lie he could have come up with and yet he brought it upon himself with such certainty he almost believed it himself. Fatrada, too, preferred to let his words trail off as she drew her brows together and took a breath. ¡°Do you need help, Vizier Assou? Letting a boy disappear isn¡¯t something to be watched. I may not be much, but I know every nook and cranny of this town.¡±


    Her determination was reflected in her eyes ¨C fire that Assou wanted to cling to. Her conviction stole his words and for a breath, the messenger boy was forgotten. He no longer mattered in this tiny constellation, when what he wanted was right in front of him.


    Even before he could rebuke himself, he heard his own voice in the soft sound of the brooding heat. ¡°I love you.¡±


    ¡°And perhaps you will get the chance of that love in another life.¡± Lips pursed, Fatrada braced her hands on her hips. ¡°I¡¯m sure your messenger boy is more important than a declaration of love. Or are you indeed as indecisive and fickle as you pretend to be?¡±


    Hastily, Assou raised his hands. He wasn¡¯t fickle and yet he couldn¡¯t deny that ever since he knew Fatrada, all his motivations were jumping from one act to the next. Almost as if nothing else mattered, as long as he could have what he desired. It was akin to a sickness that had overtaken him and yet was nothing more than the gentle breath of love that made his heart beat faster whenever he saw her. The empty swept senses were the price he paid, and it probably wasn¡¯t a good one. But a pact was rarely good and love had provoked more than one foolhardy war.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he finally put in. ¡°I¡¯ve ... been off my game lately, but I can assure you I still want to find my messenger boy.¡± This child deserved better than to be cornered by someone because of him. ¡°So if you want to help me, I would be indebted to you.¡±


    Fatrada¡¯s tension eased. Her posture loosened, and the thin smile settled like a balm around his body. Her mood, her way of treating him, they were little things with which the world seemed to stand or fall. Together with her, he might succeed in his search and simultaneously he could get closer to her. Giving up was out of the question. Even if it remained reprehensible to think of little else but Fatrada. She wasn¡¯t supposed to be the focus of this quest, and yet she eclipsed everything bad.


    He was pathetic. Lost in the presence of a woman when there were more important things than her presence. However, everything else wasn¡¯t important enough. Seeing Egypt fall might have been bad enough to forget her for a moment. So would the death of the king. Really serious things would certainly have thrown him off course. But this was a messenger boy whose name he didn¡¯t even know, and the only advantage he perceived in all this was a piece of information that could help him.


    Without further ado, Assou turned away from Fatrada. She showed him his ugliest sides and, although he wanted to be better than the hideous thoughts in the back of his mind, they overwhelmed him. She was probably the most beautiful poison that had ever enchanted him, and it was definitely not the first time he had been blinded by something. The position of vizier was too tempting some days for that. The slaves had messed with his head in the very beginning. Being at Ramesses¡¯ side was laced with arrogance, and it had taken years to understand that all these things didn¡¯t improve anything about him. He hadn¡¯t become a different person. He still wanted to reap the pride of his parents, even if they were no longer a part of his life. And to make them proud, he had had to discard the greedy idiosyncrasies.


    His mother had always rebuked the behaviour of most of them as arrogance. And Assou didn¡¯t want to be like that. He was no less an honest worker than the others. Life¡¯s goals were set. The gods had laid their hands protectively over him, and yet ¨C Hathor poisoned him.


    Or it was a test.


    Did he want to win the game?


    The stone slab moved to the forefront of his thoughts, clinging to his conscience and simultaneously answering none of his questions. He didn¡¯t even know what game was meant. Whoever had left him that tablet, the gods had sent him on a mission.


    ¡°Vizier Assou?¡± Fatrada brought him back to the present. Hands clasped behind her back, she had leaned down beside him as if to explain to a small boy that they had things to do and that there was no time to play.


    He knew. He knew it better than anyone. They had to find the messenger. They had to shed light on the matter without nurturing ulterior motives, and yet the circumstances ate through his senses as if they had been made solely for that reason.


    ¡°Are we searching together?¡± With difficulty, Assou disentangled himself from his doubts. Then he turned to Fatrada, who gave him a meaningful nod, though there was nothing of significance.


    Still, they started moving and Assou gave Fatrada the lead. Her hurried steps chased across the dry ground, taking her between dilapidated houses that were already crumbling in places. She circled some of them, glancing inside, talking to people, looking sincerely for the messenger boy, while Assou stood helplessly off to the side and watched.

 Liar -3-

    She was much more energetic than he was. She had more determination than he had ever possessed. The gods had made her into a woman who could drive a man. A wondrous blossom who knew how to take charge of her life while the others mindlessly went about their daily routine.


    Her watchful eyes checked every stone, glided over every alley. The vizier himself barely managed to take his eyes off her and although he tried, the lives of the others simply passed him by. Finally, he stopped. The breath rushed across his lips faster than he had noticed before, and the throbbing in his chest rushed pinpricks through his lungs. His throat was dry, his perception wavered, and he had to brace himself on his knees for a moment to rebalance the world.


    ¡°Vizier Assou, are you all right?¡± Fatrada appeared in front of him barely a blink later and raising his head only brought the differences between them into focus. She wasn¡¯t out of breath, nor was she exhausted from the search that was settling into him, much like a burn.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he returned before hanging his head. Not only was he showing weakness to her, his legs felt as if they didn¡¯t want to take one more step.


    The sun was already setting, touching the far distance with careful rays. Not much longer and the sky would be shrouded in darkness. The search was taking more time than he had planned.


    ¡°You look like you need a drink,¡± Fatrada continued, and Assou couldn¡¯t disagree. Every word rasped in his throat, and the effort not to cough required strength that brought sweat to his brow.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± he ultimately uttered. It was but a small admission and yet Fatrada turned on the spot. Her hasty footsteps disappeared into the distance, and it took little more than a few silent breaths for her to return. In her hands, a cup of water.


    All too quickly, the tjati accepted the vessel and emptied it, allowing some of his spirits to return. Straightened up and almost regaining his strength, he opened his mouth to thank her and yet found no words. Fatrada instead took the freedom to take the cup from him.


    ¡°You should thank the family over there.¡± As if she had read his mind, she pointed to an old man and his wife sitting at the door of their house, waving joyfully. The weather had scarred their skin, making them visibly wrinkled and tired. Still, they both had a smile left, which he could hardly return.


    Fatrada brought the cup back to them and took her leave with so much vigour that she seemed out of place in the desert. Her energy was on a completely different level. She was used to this life, and he was sure her legs and feet didn¡¯t hurt. Her body knew these roads. Her muscles were used to the wide paths while he squatted in the palace all day staring holes in the air.


    He sighed. Outside the palace, there were too many things to overwhelm him and yet somehow they all lived in peace ¨C yet they could have changed Egypt in their own way. These people were stronger than anyone in the palace and only the king¡¯s soldiers seemed like worthy opponents in the face of conventional citizens.


    ¡°I think we have now searched almost the entire town.¡± Sauntering, Fatrada came back to him. She was at her wits¡¯ end.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll find him again...¡± confirmed Assou. ¡°I don¡¯t see how a messenger boy could escape such watchful eyes. But I thank you, Fatrada.¡±


    For the first time, he seemed to call her by name during her presence and, to his own amazement, it carried less sound on his tongue than he had hoped. It didn¡¯t possess the same soft touch as Dinem, nor any high-level strength like Maathorneferure. It didn¡¯t even come close to the alien sound of Sau?kanu. It was a name that could be forgotten if one didn¡¯t listen carefully and yet it suited her perfectly; because she was a woman of the people. A folk that was easily forgotten and yet possessed its very own personality if one paid a bit more attention.


    For a moment, he was glad that he had looked at her more closely; that he had noticed how beautiful she was and how headstrong her character shimmered. She was a free spirit, just as the gods had made her.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to thank me.¡± She bowed her head. ¡°We couldn¡¯t achieve a thing.¡±


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    ¡°And yet you helped me as best you could. I am grateful for that,¡± Assou added before bowing slightly to her. It was the least he could do. A thank you from the heart because she had stayed with him, even though he had probably been nothing more than a burden the whole time.


    ¡°I¡¯d do it again any time,¡± Fatrada replied before wiping her hands on her kalasiris. The heat had reached her too, and yet it shone barely noticeably on her skin. ¡°How will you proceed now?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°To be honest, I don¡¯t know. The boy could be anywhere and I am forced to assume the worst. It was... a private matter, so it is very difficult to receive official help.¡±


    ¡°Pharaoh¡¯s power wasn¡¯t made for the common people, I suppose.¡± Fatrada¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°May Horus¡¯ watchful eye see the boy safely home.¡±


    ¡°M-My M-Master!¡± Another¡¯s voice mingled between them, and though Assou didn¡¯t want to believe the first sound, he still thought he recognised the summons.


    Instantly, the vizier turned, only to discover the small messenger boy, his pale face clearly different from the rest of his body. The dark skin gleamed with sweat, while he was losing some of his colour around the nose. His cheeks were sunken and his step swayed. Fatrada came towards him immediately. Her quick, leaping feet reached the boy before he could collapse. Assou did the same, coming towards the child, who by now was sitting on his knees, wheezing.


    ¡°Is that him?¡± Fatrada¡¯s agitation chased in Assou¡¯s direction, who merely gave a weak nod. Still, she barely acknowledged his words as she turned to the child again. ¡°Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?¡±


    Slowly, the boy shook his black mop of hair before detaching a flattened piece of papyrus from the waistband of his shendyt and handing it to Fatrada. ¡°I have a message for you.¡±


    Assou¡¯s brows lifted. Papyrus was expensive and only seen in the circles of the rich ¨C usually in the palace. However, there was no one but himself who would ever send Fatrada a message, assuming she could read at all. There were some people in the kingdom who didn¡¯t understand hieroglyphs. But Fatrada took the message so confidently that his fear faded and he simply watched her instead. She opened the papyrus, let her gaze glide over the neatly drawn pictures, and barely later pressed her lips together. Assou couldn¡¯t see much more from his spot than that the drawings were more beautiful than anything he had ever managed. No blurred lines, no lines that didn¡¯t match.


    ¡°Is this a joke?¡± Fatrada¡¯s voice was like a whisper that Assou couldn¡¯t help hearing. Her gaze was still glued to the papyrus and simultaneously her shoulders tightened a little. Only then did she lift her gaze, her eyes as big as jars. ¡°Vizier Assou, are you joking with me?¡±


    He had no idea what she was talking about. Her expression betrayed nothing, and before Assou could open his mouth, she turned the papyrus in her hands. She spoke it out at the same moment it caught his eyes.


    ¡°The message is from you.¡±


    It made no sense. Not even in madness had he dared to compose lines for her. Surely it would have been too cocky. She wasn¡¯t a woman interested in such things and until a few moments ago, he hadn¡¯t even been able to say if she could read. All these factors had kept him at bay and yet in her hands was a message that was supposed to be from him.


    ¡°Would you believe me if I told you I didn¡¯t write those words?¡± he tried slowly. He had to find a beginning, and yet he had no assurance that he wouldn¡¯t perish in quicksand.


    ¡°You mean to tell me you¡¯re not playing a game with me right now?¡± Her gaze darkened. ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe, considering the circumstances.¡±


    ¡°On the contrary,¡± Assou assured her. ¡°I am not a man accustomed to the fields. Walking all over the city with you is an effort I would probably never have made in this way had I not been serious.¡±


    She pursed her lips before taking another look at the papyrus. Assou, however, held his breath. She had to believe him, no matter how obvious the evidence against him looked. Whatever that message said, it had nothing to do with him.


    Fatrada herself found no answer, so she turned to the messenger boy and gave him a friendly smile. The exhaustion had subsided a little and although he still looked like death itself, he was no longer panting.


    ¡°Who gave you that message?¡± she inquired. It was the easiest question in the world and probably the simplest way to find the culprit. But the boy merely took a breath and lowered his gaze.


    ¡°The vizier, mistress,¡± he replied, slow and heavy as stone. Then, as if his work was done, he bowed, turned and ran. Just like that. He was too fast for Assou to catch him by the shendyt or the arm, and Fatrada merely followed the scenario with a fixed gaze.


    ¡°I can assure you this boy didn¡¯t speak the truth.¡± The throbbing in Assou¡¯s chest drove sweat to his skin and the restlessness in his bones forced him to clench his hands into fists to keep from shaking too conspicuously. His body didn¡¯t know if there was anger or irritation lurking inside him, but he knew there was something enveloping him and it weighed heavily on his senses.


    ¡°Suppose I were to believe you,¡± Fatrada began slowly, ¡°who else would have written this message?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t even know what anyone could want from you. What does the message say?¡± He took a step closer and Fatrada let him. Her gaze fastened once more on the hieroglyphics.


    ¡°It says you left a surprise for me at the entrance of my house. It seems to me like a message you would have preferred to give me if we had no longer been together.¡± She handed him the papyrus. ¡°And you say that this message is not from you...¡±

 Liar -4-

    She was as indecisive as he was. The timing wasn¡¯t right and no matter how he looked at it, someone was playing with him. A game he could win if he wanted to. The stone slab reminded him of this, and whoever was doing this strange dance with him knew how to drive things to a dead end. Anyone with even half a bit of courage could get hold of a piece of papyrus and a rush in the palace. The supplies were only guarded sporadically, and the guards often fell asleep. Once or twice, learned slaves had been caught writing messages to others to make themselves look better than they were and each time Assou had turned a blind eye and let them off with light punishments.


    But this time was different.


    They were using the palace¡¯s resources to turn on him and make fun of him in the same way. There weren¡¯t many people who could read and write. If he had to guess, they could be counted on both hands. The queens knew how to read, but not how to write. A few slaves could do both. The messengers knew nothing. That made the circle of suspects manageable, but he would still have to gather information to find the one person responsible for all this.


    With a sigh, the Tjati shook his head and let the thought go. In those moments, Fatrada took priority. Her words mattered. He could take everything else to heart when he got back.


    ¡°I can only assure you once more,¡± the vizier continued. ¡°This message is not mine.¡±


    ¡°But then, what does this message mean?¡± Finally, Fatrada lowered the papyrus in her hands and looked at him as if only he would have an answer to all this, even though he didn¡¯t know more than she did. ¡°Do you think there is someone waiting for me in my home?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he replied. ¡°But if it makes you feel better, we could see.¡±


    She hesitated. There was suspicion in her eyes, sizing him up. Uncertainty that watched him because they weren¡¯t of the same calibre. In the end, there was no trust between them. They barely knew each other, didn¡¯t know how to judge the other, and although Assou believed that there was no evil in her, she was unsure about him.


    But her options were limited. Nagib was working in the field, which meant that no one in her home could look after her. No one could save her if someone chose to harm her. Assou was the only hope, he knew, and with a wry smile, he endeavoured to make it a little easier for her.


    ¡°We could also let Nagib know, of course. He could accompany us. As a vizier, I can give him that freedom,¡± he suggested. A bitter offer that stuck to his tongue like honey and yet somehow slipped past his lips.


    ¡°That is very generous of you, Vizier Assou.¡± She glanced over her shoulder, thinking, lost in thought for an eternity, before turning to him. ¡°I don¡¯t want to attract any more attention. People will whisper if you let my husband leave work and he won¡¯t make himself very popular with the other workers if he¡¯s allowed to leave the craft early. It¡¯s easier if I go with you and we see who¡¯s playing a joke.¡±


    She was probably right. In the end, he didn¡¯t understand how the common people functioned. They worked, and they had their unspoken views on things that only applied to each other. It had nothing to do with the upper class and yet it was probably a little contempt that resonated with some.


    It didn¡¯t matter. It was the one thing Assou was sure of, and it was the one little thing that gave him a confident stride as he followed Fatrada. She was the one who knew her way around the chaos of the alleyways well enough to find her way back, and she didn¡¯t let anything distract her. In contrast to his gaze, her attention didn¡¯t wander over the buildings and surroundings in the hope something would stick.


    Only when they arrived back in the crowd selling familiar goods did the Tjati try to keep in step. Walking alongside Fatrada had more charm than following her all day long while the sun sank further and further into the abyss and darkness took over.


    The sky turned a dark blue as they both arrived in front of the wheat seller¡¯s house and gazed into the darkness. No light penetrated outside, not a single candle was burning and although a strange chill settled on Assou¡¯s skin, there was no one to be seen far and wide who wasn¡¯t setting up their stall or getting the last few things for dinner. They were all just passers-by. Random figures who couldn¡¯t be categorised.


    ¡°We should go inside,¡± Fatrada revealed barely a moment later. Her gaze had also followed the last people on the paths. They had to look, had to find out why this atmosphere hung like stone between them. And they also had to understand why someone had written this message.


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    Assou cautiously took the initiative and pushed past Fatrada to the door, to which he first put his ear. But all that met him was silence. He couldn¡¯t hear anyone breathing, couldn¡¯t sense any presence, only the shiver on his back that smiled at him. So he pushed open the barrier.


    With hasty steps, he entered to take a potential attacker by surprise, but was met only with emptiness, which faded as his gaze fixed on the ground and his feet paused on damp soil. Smacking noises came from beneath his soles. Blackness caressed the interior and only the faint light of the outside world cast a dim glow inside. He held his breath.


    Fatrada stepped in behind him and although he should have held her back, not a muscle in him stirred. He knew the strong features that gazed rigidly at the ceiling. They had once regarded him with a humble and curious gaze. All that remained now was temporary silence, which lifted when Fatrada realised the circumstances. The scream that escaped her throat moments later was like a wounded animal before she staggered past him and fell to her knees. Her kalasiris would stain at the knees, soiling herself with blood that still seeped wetly into the ground.


    Nagib was dead.


    It was hard to realise. His clothes were soaked with blood and yet the Tjati believed it must have come from a chest injury. Eyes wide and mouth agape, Nagib looked like a victim of a long struggle he must have fought with fervour; and even if the sight of him broke Fatrada¡¯s heart, there was little more than coldness in Assou. Somewhere between the fronts lay indifference. Emptiness that lulled him and pushed him in a different direction.


    Someone had killed Nagib and whoever it was had their eye on Fatrada. It was probably the same person who had given him the stone slab and who saw all this as a simple, stupid game. Taking a life was punishable by death. They didn¡¯t dwell in a world where the life of an individual was unnecessary ¨C if one wasn¡¯t considered a slave.


    Fatrada¡¯s tearing howl tore Assou from his thoughts. His senses returned to reality, clinging to the woman his heart desired with all its might and who, bent over her husband, begged the gods to forgive him ¨C whatever he had done. She pleaded for him to be brought back. Prayers that made Assou clench his hands into fists in a silent wish that the gods would ignore her pleas. Just this once.


    Pressing his lips together, he swallowed the abhorrent thought. It was bubbling up again. The ugly side. The irrepressible feeling of being swallowed up by a single emotion. But there were more important things than his own feelings. Someone had been killed and the woman of his heart was crying. Her red, swollen, beautiful eyes were shrouded in dark clouds as she looked at him, not knowing what to say. They both knew no one in this room could help these circumstances and yet every wrongdoing seemed to be in his hands. He needed to offer her something. Promise her safety and order the culprit to be found. But his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and his throat was so dry that not a single word slipped past his chapped lips.


    ¡°Vizier!¡± The sudden exclamation of a guard who appeared behind him as if he had crawled out of the shadows sent Assou whirling. Armed with a spear and three other men, that man entered the doorway. ¡°I suppose you heard it too.¡±


    Assou raised his brows, shook his head and was about to ask, but the guard pushed his way inside and stood protectively in front of him. His upright posture looked more dangerous than the corpse in the room. The small stone lamp in his hand, which carried the candlelight inside, conjured up ghostly shadows.


    ¡°Who would have believed a mere woman of such petite stature could kill a man of this size?¡± the guard continued. Words that prompted Assou to protest when a hand settled on his shoulder at the same moment.


    ¡°What horror. You too must have arrived too late, honoured Vizier.¡± The voices of these men were poison in the face of the evening. Each of them was certain what they were doing was right. All it took in those breaths was someone to tell them the truth.


    A truth that lingered in the tjati as one of the other guards beat him to it, curiosity getting the better of him. If he listened carefully, he might find out who had set this trap for them.


    ¡°That woman there was reported by her neighbour. It was assumed she was up to something,¡± a guard continued. ¡°It is no secret to the people of this market that there is no understanding between these two and also that this man has taken her against her will. A burden she should have borne.¡± The man shook his narrow head, causing his chin-length hair to flutter. ¡°Instead, she killed him.¡±


    Assou¡¯s breath caught in his throat. The questions he wanted to ask were endless, and yet he couldn¡¯t think of a single word to break the slowly rising silence. Instead, one man grabbed Fatrada by the arm and her sobs turned into a desperate howl that rang in Assou¡¯s ears.


    ¡°Imagine the shock when her husband had to leave the field because his wife ordered him home. Allegedly because she is seriously ill. But look at her. In perfect health.¡± The man who had seized her snorted as he forced her to stand halfway upright. ¡°What could tempt a woman to act so much against her nature?¡±


    Assou gathered his courage and took a breath. He had to intervene, had to prevent Fatrada from being hurt any further. He had to embrace her and show her she was safe by his side, but he didn¡¯t get the chance to express his thoughts.


    ¡°And rightly so,¡± a high, soft voice answered the guard¡¯s question and simultaneously forced the entire room, apart from Fatrada, into a noble stance.


    When she entered, it was the marvellous dress adorned with gemstones that first caught Assou¡¯s eye. Carried by striking curves and long legs, his gaze travelled up to the penetrating gaze of Maathorneferure, whose long, dark hair fell like silk over her chest. The smile on her lips was all his, and the words he had wanted to say earlier sank inside him.


    He had lost.

 Arrogance -1-

    She was as indecisive as he was. ¡°Your Highness!¡± The horrified exclamation of one guard caused the others to become agitated as well. Unsteady glances were exchanged and although Assou could watch them out of the corner of his eye, all his attention was on Maathorneferure.


    She ventured another step inside, but stopped short of the dark patches of floor with her finely crafted sandals. The light colour of the ankle-length robe stood out against the gloom at her feet and her head tilted to one side as she looked at Nagib. There was no horror in her eyes, no surprise, no disgust at death.


    ¡°I heard about the circumstances of what happened and wanted to see it for myself,¡± she continued. ¡°I heard this man was part of a conspiracy against our Pharaoh Ramesses.¡±


    Astonishment ran through the men as the tjati sucked every word from her lips, every single lie she uttered as if there was nothing easier in the face of a wounded woman and a dead man. She spun things the way she needed to and simultaneously left no room for speculation. She was one of the three Great Royal Queens. No one would doubt a single sound leaving her lips. Except those who knew better.


    ¡°That is probably the reason our honoured vizier has come here, despite the danger of appearing without an aide.¡± She glanced at him, gave him one of her strangely warped, mocking smiles, and then stood directly in front of him. She towered over him by an entire head.


    The guards, meanwhile, turned away to inspect Fatrada. All at once, each of them seemed to realise that it was absurd to think such a frail-looking woman could kill a man like Nagib. Maathorneferure, however, took advantage of the troop¡¯s lack of attention to lean down towards Assou. Her face came so close to his he thought he could smell her skin. Flowers rose to his senses as her eyes stared down at his soul.


    ¡°You should play along, Vizier.¡± She drew out his title like a singsong. ¡°If you don¡¯t, I¡¯ll have your lover killed first and then push you into the hands of Amentet.¡±


    His mouth remained dry as dust. He couldn¡¯t even muster enough saliva as he bit his tongue. The throbbing in his mouth did nothing. She had the upper hand, no matter how he turned it. Maathorneferure was ten steps ahead of him. There was no way to wriggle out of her grip. In these breaths, all he could do was obey.


    His body only managed a dull nod, which made Maathorneferure¡¯s smile widen. For a fraction of a blink, she took on the form of a monster, only to return to being the beautiful woman who knew how to enchant the people. She straightened up just in time for the guards to turn to her. They needed instructions, a plan, something they could cling to without upsetting Ramesses. She knew that, and yet she let each of them ask her wordlessly.


    ¡°This woman has acted in honour of our Pharaoh, no matter what the consequences may be. This act forbids her to be executed. But she has also committed a cruel crime, which means we can no longer leave her among the people of the nation.¡± Bored, Maathorneferure folded her arms in front of her chest. ¡°If we take all these things into consideration, I come to the decision the pharaoh would hardly make differently. This woman will work as a slave in the palace from today onwards.¡±


    Slave. A woman in rags, ordered to do everything that was demanded of her. Opposition was punished. There were no wishes. It was hardly better than facing death, he thought, because the slaves in the palace were forced to do everything. They were used for sex, were the black sheep if anything went wrong and were even treated like dogs by the visitors. So she was at the bottom of the chain. The only thing that could save Fatrada were two things: her connection to him and the fact she could read. Slaves like her were valuable.


    Still, his shoulders shook. The sweat clinging to his hands could barely be wiped off on the shendyt, and the knowledge Fatrada was in the line of fire because of him made his posture sag. Even when Fatrada looked at him, her eyes wide open so they shone like gemstones, he couldn¡¯t utter a sound. He couldn¡¯t resist Maathorneferure if he didn¡¯t want to make things worse. All that remained was to watch her being taken away. The people in the city would talk their heads off. They would drag Fatrada¡¯s name in the mud and they would mourn Nagib.


    He slowly closed his eyes and turned his head to the side to push the scenarios as far back as he could. Worrying about these things would get him nowhere, and it would help him even less if he lost sight of Maathorneferure¡¯s steps.


    He hastily opened his eyes again to realise the guards had all disappeared and his queen was still within reach. Her eyes rested on him, while the smirk on her lips was nothing but mockery.


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    ¡°You¡¯re nothing more than a silly boy in the end, aren¡¯t you?¡± The words slipped from her lips like the stones of the pyramids, almost as if she was incapable of enjoying the situation. ¡°You should have chosen your opponent better, Vizier.¡±


    With a dismissive wave of her hand, she left. She simply turned her back on him and Assou could barely hear himself as he leapt forward to grab her by the arm. Everything in him counselled caution, but the dark part of his mind, which couldn¡¯t be controlled, gripped so tightly that a hiss escaped her. Immediately afterwards, he spun her back in his direction with force, sending her crashing backwards into the wall of the house. The sound of pain that escaped her released pleasure in him. It was music to his ears to hear something other than her threatening words and smug laughter. Squeezing her soft skin between his hands had charm, as did the warning glint in her eyes and the puckered lips.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have meddled in my affairs, woman,¡± he spat back at her with the same venom she¡¯d been teasing his senses with for ages. ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to shy away from killing you if you leave me no other choice.¡± His voice was only a hiss. ¡°And believe me, you¡¯ve started something you can¡¯t win.¡±


    Instead of meeting him head on, giving him a reason to snap her neck on the spot, she swallowed. She took silent breaths, as if she had indeed landed in an unforeseen situation, before jutting her chin and finding her voice again. ¡°Beware, Vizier. I am still your queen.¡±


    She was right. Maathorneferure was stating the obvious, and it seemed as if she was clearing the clouds from his mind. The unclear thoughts lifted and suddenly the situation took on the bitter flavour of a long-forgotten deed. He didn¡¯t know what to do with himself. All Assou could do was loosen his grip on her arm and take a few steps back.


    ¡°You look surprised,¡± his queen remarked, unable to crack a smile this time. Instead, she looked down at him as if she were reprimanding an animal that had no right to be near her. ¡°Did you think I would be intimidated by you?¡± Her brows lifted. ¡°Or have you just lost your mind?¡±


    Had he? His gaze fell on his hands, whose trembling gave no answer. His body was tensed to breaking point, his thoughts no longer attainable and the throbbing behind his temples grew stronger the more he tried to catch himself. He didn¡¯t even bother to answer Maathorneferure. His legs simply started moving, away from the lies, away from the scenario, and also away from the woman¡¯s biting words that were slowly driving him mad. All the while, the question of the stone slab came back to his mind. Did he want to win?


    There was nothing that could be won. He wasn¡¯t playing a game that someone had started for his own amusement. Presumably all this was nothing more than an elaborate plan by Maathorneferure, whose poison cloaked the entire palace in a new guise. What¡¯s more, he had no room to complain. Dinem had warned him. She had advised him to be careful, and he had scared her away. Dismissing her words had probably been one of his biggest mistakes in this battle, he realised. It was only because of his carelessness that Maathorneferure had got this far.


    Half in thought, he stroked his face with both hands. Perhaps all this was nothing more than a game, after all. One that this woman had created to pass the time and watch someone else suffer. An insidious idea, but one that made sense to him.


    Assou¡¯s legs carried him straight into the middle of nowhere. Trapped between the walls of houses and the sandy ground, which dusted with every step, only the torches on the main path gave him a little light. However, the rays didn¡¯t reach him and at the latest one step further, he would be shrouded in darkness.


    He stopped, out of reflex, and took a breath. Something inside him boiled like hot water, while the rest of him tried to break through. The calm, the self-confidence, the certainty he could still gain the upper hand and not be led by emotions like a little boy ¨C all these things were still there, even if they felt worn out.


    He wiped his sweaty hands on the shendyt before tugging at the fabric of his tunic and closing his eyes. Floating darkness promised him peace and quiet, freedom to think a few clear thoughts that otherwise slipped between his fingers. It was a bit of peace that lulled him to sleep, and in the very next breath, it brushed softly around his ankles, causing Assou¡¯s eyelids to open slowly.


    Shadows clung to his legs, making the spot on which he stood as deep and opaque as the abyss. Then two sparkling eyes stared at him from the depths and it took a moment for the blackness to lift from the shadows.


    ¡°Amenti!¡± Raising his brows, Assou scrutinised the cat as if she had no business being in this place. Yet she was freer than any other creature in this world. She sat down in front of him and looked at him as if she had been waiting. Her black fur melted into her surroundings. Only her eyes burned like little lights.


    Her mewing echoed along the walls, and Assou noticed how his gaze flitted around, hoping no one would see her. But he had nothing to hide. The bruised skin, which seemed cold, irritated him. Everything seemed to be falling apart, Fatrada was now a slave and the ground beneath him was becoming more fragile. In addition, he was talking to a cat as if he had actually lost his mind. Maathorneferure was probably right and admitting exactly that to her made the circumstances unpleasant.


    ¡°Get out of here, you stupid thing.¡± With a shooing hand gesture, he tried to get rid of Amenti. ¡°If you can¡¯t help me win this game, you¡¯re just in the way right now.¡± He snorted. A game. His head accepted the unwanted facts faster than he would have liked. ¡°Just look at me...¡±

 Arrogance -2-

    His eyes detached themselves from Amenti. She didn¡¯t understand a word he said anyway. There was no reason to face her, and yet he could only turn away from the cat for a moment. Barely a breath later, his attention was once again glued to her billowing, black form. She was the only one listening to him. The only one who sat with him and endured and accepted his anger. So he crouched down to offer her a hand, and she nuzzled her head against it. Her soft fur calmed his nerves.


    ¡°I made a mistake,¡± he finally confessed to her. ¡°A stupid mistake, because I underestimated my opponent.¡± He sighed. ¡°You know I¡¯m not like that, but lately, I¡¯m always so ... angry. Even obsessed with something that can¡¯t be grasped. Trapped in my short-sightedness.¡±


    Amenti¡¯s grunt confirmed him. She was actually listening.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t know where to start. Every time I try something, I get distracted by Fatrada and look what it got me.¡± He shook his head. Everything could have been so much easier. ¡°This wouldn¡¯t have happened if Maathorneferure wasn¡¯t... if she wasn¡¯t so obsessed with taking out her discontent on me. I probably sound like a little kid.¡± Without further ado, he hung his head. Since when did a man cry to a cat?


    Another meow made him look up, straight into those friendly emeralds who promised to keep all his secrets. She was the only one who would never say a word about what he said, and perhaps the gods meant well for him.


    The tightness in his chest made him sigh. His throat constricted and the rage that still seethed within him found the ugliest words he could think of. He was in no position to speak ill of Maathorneferure, and there was no way he was going to ask the gods for anything and be in their debt later ¨C but he wanted to vent the feeling. Slowly, he withdrew his hand, severed contact with Amenti, and looked at her for a moment. Her eyes seemed to scrutinise him like a neatly inscribed stone slab and the next breath that left his lips was no longer silent.


    ¡°I hate her,¡± it came over him. ¡°I hate her with every fibre of my body and yet ... I would probably still help her if she asked me for something...¡± He pressed his lips together and took a breath. ¡°And yet right now, I want nothing more than for Osiris to take her to his realm and punish her for her mere character.¡±


    Amenti¡¯s gaze sparkled. The light moved in them whenever the fire flickered and it bathed the cat¡¯s features in shadows that wrapped menacingly around her small muzzle. Her white teeth gleamed from beneath narrow lips, stretching from side to side like a smile. An ugly grin that shone brighter than the moon. He blinked, repressing the illusion, which vanished in the same breath. What remained was Amenti in the flickering light of the torches. Her silky fur shone and her small paws led her towards the main path. She left him behind without giving him a single meow. Perhaps she wanted to show him he had to go back. Back to the palace, where Fatrada would be waiting. She and Maathorneferure.


    Someone had to save Fatrada, no matter what. And the only person capable of doing so bore his name. He was the only one who knew that something wrong had been done, and he was also the only one who was fighting a petty war with the Third Great Royal Queen.


    Once again, the tjati took a deep breath before pulling himself to his feet. It took him a moment to find the strength in his legs to hold himself up. Only then, when his steps looked firm and determined, did he step out of the alley and back into the warm light of the main path. He had to show himself strong. Stronger than anyone would believe him to be. In the end, there was no one he could turn to but Amenti ¨C not like a cat could have tipped him off. He had to solve every problem that arose on his own. He had to master it, be the vizier that Ramesses saw in him, and overcome the problem. All he needed was a plan. One that would corner Maathorneferure and protect Fatrada.


    His shoulders tightened as he drew closer to the palace. Nothing in him was allowed to fall victim to the obvious sense of unease. No one was allowed to see behind his fa?ade. No attack surfaces were allowed.


    His feet crept across the floor, gliding over shadows until he reached the entrance to the palace, the unease of which brought with it a touch of palpitations. Silence ate its way through the ranks of two guards, while two others carried a boy out. A thin body with sunken cheeks. Assou recognised him without looking closely.


    It was his messenger. The boy who had given him and Fatrada the papyrus. The wanted child who had fallen for a better offer. Perhaps he had been blackmailed. He didn¡¯t know by what means this child had been tricked into switching his priorities, but he knew this boy had met his end.


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    ¡°Vizier!¡± A guard rushed towards him. ¡°May the gods protect you. I see you are well.¡±


    ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t I be?¡± He couldn¡¯t take his eyes off the child¡¯s scrawny body.


    ¡°Well, first there¡¯s that conspiracy you tried to overpower on your own, and then there¡¯s this boy.¡± The sigh of the man next to him weighed heavier than the stone slabs they used to write on some days. ¡°A slave said he¡¯d been sent on a mission by you a few times ¨C with generous pay, of course. It¡¯s hard to understand why such a boy would take his own life outside your study.¡±


    On his doorstep. As if this boy had tried to reach him before something terrible had happened to him.


    ¡°And,¡± the guard continued, ¡°the Eye of Horus has been drawn on the opposite side of your door.¡±


    He was seen. Maathorneferure wanted to show him he couldn¡¯t run away. She always had him in sight. She also knew how to use an errand boy or how to get the slaves to swipe some information. Even the footmen could be bought. Most of them did quite a lot for a single gold coin and Maathorneferure knew how to lay her hands on the royal gold. She could pay whoever she wanted and everyone would fall to her feet.


    ¡°I see,¡± Assou replied. It wasn¡¯t the best answer he could have come up with, but it was the only one.


    ¡°Do you think an enemy within the walls is responsible for this?¡± The guard¡¯s concern made the tjati take his eyes off the boy, whose body, marked with blood, looked corrupted.


    ¡°Nothing more than a warning that I must have overlooked,¡± he then replied. ¡°It¡¯s nothing for you or our pharaoh to worry about. I will take care of it.¡±


    ¡°If you say so, then we trust you, Vizier.¡± The guard¡¯s confidence grew, and although Assou couldn¡¯t promise he could fix it all, there were still people who relied on his skill. They trusted him to fulfil his duties and go above and beyond. The palace could go up in flames and every one of them would sigh in relief if he said he would take care of it.


    In moments like these, he would have liked to have been one of them. A man who endeavoured to be safe and yet thought no further than he was told. It had to be easy to leave life¡¯s decisions to everyone else.


    The thought made him smile. As a young boy, he had often thought about what it would be like to follow in his father¡¯s footsteps; to know he had power and could make decisions that would help the country. The result had sobered him when he had lived the first days of the vizier¡¯s life. Slaves had died and new ones had to be brought. An eternal routine that sometimes slipped away from him because people were more mortal than Ramesses wanted to see. Apart from that, he hardly had time to make decisions that would improve things. All he had left were friendly words for the pharaoh.


    Through him, he had brought kindness. It had made him understand what his father had meant by saying that a good vizier made a good king. Assou had made him good. Better than he already was and even if he should have been proud of it, the walk through this city proved his decisions hadn¡¯t borne fruit everywhere.


    He had been blind. Almost like a guard who simply followed orders. In the end, he too was nothing more than a man following a well-trodden path. That made him weak as a vizier. It made him simple and put him on the same level as Maathorneferure. Perhaps even lower. For she saw further than he did and she had made her plans long ago. She knew what place belonged to her, and she also knew what she had to do to gain more power. Almost as if she had done nothing else all her life.


    ¡°May the gods have mercy on him,¡± was all he could wish the boy as he turned away from the guard and aimed for the entrance. Whatever had happened, he had to take a step back and look at things from the outside. He had to keep a clear view and ¨C above all ¨C he had to banish Fatrada from his thoughts.


    Barely audible, Assou entered the palace and let his dirty feet scatter a few grains of sand. No one came to meet him until he reached the door to his study. It wasn¡¯t until he reached the point where blood was soaked into the stone of the wall that a female slave met him. Her thin body mustered all its strength to scrub away the Eye of Horus, which gleamed bloodily, with a worn cloth. The water in the container next to her was already a deep red colour.


    ¡°I apologise, Vizier,¡± she breathed when she saw him. ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to remove the dirt yet.¡±


    She hadn¡¯t even been able to wipe away part of it, and yet Assou nodded at her as if what she said wouldn¡¯t be a problem. His eyes lingered on the drawing. Straight lines, skilfully traced. Whoever Maathorneferure had paid for it, they possessed a wondrously beautiful handwriting. Simultaneously, her warning was like a joke. The Eye of Horus was known to see everything. It knew who played by the rules and who didn¡¯t ¨C and so it also knew who Maathorneferure was. Nothing remained secret from the all-seeing eye and yet she tried to frighten him with it, proving her poor character.


    Still, the gods hadn¡¯t punished her yet and even if he wanted to believe that one day it would happen, that didn¡¯t help him at the moment. Fatrada wouldn¡¯t last for years. Not in the arms of a woman who would do anything to upset him. And if not even Horus understood what kind of woman was defiling this palace, then Assou would let them all know.


    He looked at the drawing on the wall one last time. Then he turned away to enter his study and shut the door firmly behind him. The decision, which weighed heavier on his shoulders with every breath he took, was the only right one.


    He would kill Maathorneferure. She would be gone by the feast in Meritamen¡¯s honour at the latest. No one would notice because all eyes would be on the pregnant Great Royal Queen. And in the end, no one would look round for him because he was the king¡¯s vizier. Until then, Fatrada had to be protected ¨C her soft, fragile body cradled in safety. Even if he had to act just as dirty as Maathorneferure.

 Helping Hand -1-

    His body was burning. His world was on fire. The gods pointed their fingers at him and laughed at his futile attempts to keep the scales in balance. Assou could hear their voice across the desert and yet there were no faces he could recognise. His every step was lost in the face of a journey he couldn¡¯t fathom. It simply drove him onwards. Slowly and steadily, further away from the laughing shadows that unhurriedly warped and flowed in their form. If he¡¯d had a rush, it might have been possible to blur them.


    The breath on his lips dried his skin, was so unusually heavy and hot he thought he had swallowed the land itself. The scratching in his throat made him gulp several times. The weakness of his limbs became more present with each breath, and it took little more than the blink of an eye before his world lay in darkness. His fingers groped ahead and still couldn¡¯t find a foothold. The only thing Assou could feel was the cold ground beneath him. Perhaps it was a wall. It could be anything as long as nothing could be recognised.


    He didn¡¯t know whether he had closed his eyes or not, but a part of him felt the urge to see. A throbbing behind his temples, however, dissuaded him from doing so. His senses found no unity and yet they waited, waited for a decision he didn¡¯t want to make because no option was tempting enough.


    When he let the world shatter into darkness, there was the soft scent of warm milk combined with sweet dates. Moisture on his forehead. Lovely humming, so soft and caressing he felt like he was being cradled in a woman¡¯s arms. It was a pleasant warmth that, despite everything, nestled coldly against him and hardly promised security when he tilted his head to the side.


    He only realised with difficulty that his head had been laid on something like a high pillow. It disappeared behind his slowly returning senses, which made it clear to him he had fallen asleep. His body offered resistance. His bones weighed more than twenty stone slabs and his perception clung to the darkness in which this lovely melody came over him like a blessing. The only thing Assou could filter out of the soft humming was the vague memory of a nursery rhyme he had once heard from his mother when he was young. It reminded him of her sweet smile and her ever-whispering voice when she told him how precious he was. Behind it were the kind eyes of a woman who had left him far too soon.


    For a moment, Assou thought he remembered her scent. The nostalgia of when she had taken him in her arms and he had deeply absorbed her scent. A tiny fragment of lived days he held tightly in his hands and yet had to let go when the stabbing pain in his head brought something else in between. Fatrada. The knowledge that Maathorneferure had found pleasure in making a fool of him and putting the love of his life in chains. She hadn¡¯t hesitated to prove she was nothing more than a snake in the shape of a woman. Almost as if Am-hehu had sent her.


    Yet there was uncertainty in her expression. Almost as if she hadn¡¯t planned to go this far. As if she had been pursuing another goal that had gone completely off the tracks. Thousands of fantasies he couldn¡¯t follow because none of them looked clever enough to do justice to Maathorneferure¡¯s secrets.


    In the end, Assou clung to his body, attached to the numb feeling on his back and the pain in his legs. The smell of dates grew stronger, the humming louder. Both brought him back to consciousness until his eyelids fluttered open and faint candlelight provided illumination.


    The shadows on the walls held him spellbound for a moment before his gaze wandered a little to the side. Dinem¡¯s upper body came to the fore; her soft breasts, which seemed terribly close to him, and her skilful fingers, which moistened his forehead with a cloth. In the flickering light of the candle, her otherwise black hair shimmered dark brown. Her catlike eyes had turned somewhere in the distance and her humming remained unchanged to this childlike melody.


    Assou didn¡¯t dare to move. Instead, he followed her upper body and tilted his head a little in her direction so the moisture reached his temples. Simultaneously, he realised his head was resting on her lap; on thighs that could be mistaken for a pillow and yet could hardly have less in common with the straw-filled linen.


    ¡°You are awake,¡± was the first thing that left Dinem¡¯s lips when she realised he was moving. The silence that followed, making him look up at her, was endless. His mouth was dry as dust and it took him a few tries of licking his lips before he found a few words.


    ¡°What... are you doing here?¡± The scratching in his throat made him cough.


    ¡°I came to let you know what happened during the day, because you weren¡¯t sighted after last evening,¡± Dinem replied. ¡°I found you on the ground, plagued by more heat than the sun thirsts our land. You seem to have had a vivid dream.¡±


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    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not.¡± Anything that could have been a dream was real, he knew. Fatrada¡¯s punishment was as real as the fact that Maathorneferure wasn¡¯t at the end of her planning. There was still much more she could do, and Assou never doubted for a moment she would realise the next step of her plan soon.


    His hands struggled to lift himself off the ground as he sat up. Dinem grabbed his shoulders immediately, giving him support. She made him weaker than he was and yet he couldn¡¯t help but let out a quiet ¡°thank you¡±. He was at the end of his strength.


    ¡°You should rest.¡± Her soft voice nestled against his senses.


    The breath on his lips was still hot and when he turned to Dinem, nothing but understanding and acceptance answered him. She was ready to put his every word into action, even if it meant hurting himself. She had already pushed herself halfway to her feet so she could jump up if he demanded anything. The concern she had for him was the same as he knew from his mother. The same affection, the same love he couldn¡¯t return.


    The inside of his chest felt no palpitations when he looked into her slightly round face. Her lead-rimmed, artfully decorated eyes pierced him and gave him the same watchful protection that Amenti carried in her gaze. Only the brown colour of her irises made her expression softer than that of a cat. Her almost shoulder-length, straight hair still shimmered and although he couldn¡¯t deny that she was a beautiful woman, his heart yearned for Fatrada.


    His thoughts hardly wanted to think of anything but her fate. Had she already been made to realise her worth? Was she suffering? There were endless questions that he couldn¡¯t get answers to and yet they wouldn¡¯t go away until he received an answer.


    ¡°Assou?¡± Dinem leant towards him a little, putting a hum into his name that made him look up. For a brief blink, emptiness returned to him. Almost as if Dinem could smother all the questions in his head with his name. Shortly afterwards, a memory followed, a completely different thought he had almost forgotten.


    She desired him. The heart in her chest felt for him exactly what he felt for Fatrada.


    Her grip on his shoulders tightened as she crept around him in tiny steps and settled in front of him. Her lap invited sleep, a cosy rest that held his attention longer than necessary. The simple Kalasiris didn¡¯t do her body justice, making her look like a grey mouse with so much more glamour behind her than anyone wanted to admit. A burn on the inside of her upper arm ¨C the Eye of Horus ¨C betrayed her position as a slave.


    A soundless laugh escaped his lips. He didn¡¯t love her, but in those seconds, she was the most beautiful woman in the palace. Her full lips puckered, the worry in her gaze never faded, and Assou couldn¡¯t help but put a hand to her cheek. She should have no hopes, no dreams in which they would ever have a happy ending together. He didn¡¯t want to put new wishes in her head he couldn¡¯t fulfil when his heart belonged to someone else. But Dinem was there. She had accepted his rejection and cared for him as if it were perfectly natural. Her desire had never diminished. It was still there, still nestling against his senses, inviting him to rest with her a little longer.


    She was inviting him to forget.


    ¡°Assou...,¡± Dinem tried again as her head followed his touch. ¡°You don¡¯t seem to be in your right mind.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, I am,¡± he returned. ¡°And the bad thing is my head is so full of worries and thoughts I can¡¯t get away from that I don¡¯t know how to sleep... Or how to fulfil your wish for me to rest.¡± He lowered his hand to just look at her. He wouldn¡¯t hesitate. If she opened her arms to him, he would hug oblivion tightly and push everything else away.


    Fatrada would understand.


    Would she?


    He shook off the thought. Dinem¡¯s eyes were still on him and whatever his body craved in those seconds shouldn¡¯t matter to his head.


    ¡°You crave something to ease your mind, if only for a moment, don¡¯t you?¡± She moved closer to place her lips on his cheek. ¡°You may not give me your heart, but that doesn¡¯t mean I desire you even a little less than I did before.¡± Her lips rested on his forehead. ¡°If I can help you forget, then feel free to fall into the abyss with me until the day dawns and the depths disappear.¡±


    It was exactly what he had hoped for. An offer to tear away all the problems that were engulfing him. Maathorneferure would no longer matter. Fatrada would be alone for a moment and the world would stand still; in his heart, his head, his perception melting like honey as the heat overcame his body.


    All the strength in his flesh was drained and yet his muscles seemed to want to follow the desire. It wanted to move forward, to banish this sickness within him and welcome the new day that would soon follow with open arms. His impulse was the confirmation Dinem had been waiting for. Assou could barely move as she gently pushed him backwards with her hands so he wouldn¡¯t even think of getting up. She came over him like a gentle breeze, opening the hem of his shendyt and pulling the fabric down far enough to expose him.


    Her fingers gripped his cock, massaging it with her thumb in slow up and down movements. Strange pressure that relaxed the tjati as he leaned further back and propped himself up on his elbows. Hot blood travelled through his body, tingling under his skin and pooling between his legs. He could see his penis becoming firmer between her fingers, growing in size and gently urging her to give him a little more pleasure.


    Dinem obeyed his unspoken will, leant forward and brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear at the same time. Then she opened her mouth and enveloped him in moist warmth, which sucked at him barely a moment later.

 Helping Hand -2-

    The skin of his cock melted into her mouth as the pressure increased and yet was engulfed by her, as if he wasn¡¯t there. Her fingers slid down him, taking hold of his balls to cradle them gently between cool fingertips. They were light, skilful movements, applying pressure and provoking a throbbing in his bottom. Movements causing Assou to sigh as Dinem released his penis and used her tongue to trace veins protruding from the sides.


    Her shoulders circled, the kalasiris slid over her skin and the fabric came away enough to reveal her upper body ¨C velvety brown skin stretched over a bosom too large to fit in either of his hands.


    When she completely detached herself from him, she still didn¡¯t give him time to think clearly. Instead, she turned round on all fours, gathered the kalasiris and bared her naked skin beneath. She was flawless. The lustre between her legs invited him in and the lack of strength in his bones was forgotten in the blink of an eye. Everything in him obeyed, pushing him to his knees and positioning him behind her.


    His tip settled at her wet entrance, nestling close to her senses before he thrust his hips forwards. Penetrating her brought unexpected sensations. Dinem closed tightly around him, welcoming his pleasure with a slight tremor and offering resistance at the same time, drawing him further inside. Assou took hold of her hips, thrust and followed her will, causing the flesh of her thighs to tremble. The pleasurable moan on her lips joined with his gasp, the muted sound of secret arousal Assou couldn¡¯t quite surrender to.


    The heat in his body grew and made her body pleasantly cool under his hands. So reassuringly different that he leant forwards further. His feet braced him off the floor as his thrusts slowly started, each inch promising a little more pleasure. Her inner heat equalled his own as his chest rested on her back and the twitching of her body flowed through every cell of his.


    Moisture between them made every movement slippery, her breasts swaying back and forth in steady movements, captivating Assou¡¯s senses so he grabbed hold. Soft flesh clung to his fingers, making Dinem¡¯s sounds more animalistic as he squeezed one nipple. Her hips pushed towards him, her weight shifted, and yet there was no change. The wet friction massaging his penis, pressing against him and making him reluctant to leave, tingled all the way to his abdomen. It forced him to speed up. The feeling had to intensify, spread throughout his body and leave nothing behind but pleasure.


    His hands slid from her breasts back to her hips. His upper body slowly straightened, escaping her closeness and yet remaining so accessible that he didn¡¯t miss her heat at any moment. Then he closed his eyes. Blackness lulled him, eclipsing all impressions outside and pushing the blood between his legs into the last spark of awareness he could feel. It was a fluid that stretched his skin, making his flesh firm and unyielding, while Dinem¡¯s vagina emitted soft smacks of pleasure. It followed his movements, meeting him whenever he thrust, breaking the air with silken moans resembling a breeze.


    Endless seconds in which there was nothing else but that. No problems. No obstacles. Only lust to be appeased ¨C the most natural instinct they pursued and yet which barely found a place in his life. However, there was so much more he wanted to test. So much more he wanted to feel. Little things that combined with images lingering like a fuzzy mosaic. His imagination wasn¡¯t enough to draw clear structures. It was too hard to imagine how he would bind Dinem with soft cloths ¨C how he would hang her arms from the ceiling to rob her feet of ground. Putting the ideas into words was much easier. Concentrating on anything else, though, was futile.


    ¡°A-Assou.¡± Dinem¡¯s desire aroused him.


    His eyes snapped open, his surroundings once again pressing into focus, and yet there was nothing but Dinem¡¯s body, its sweaty sheen holding his attention. She kept her head lowered. Her sighing had grown heavier and with each successive thrust of his hips against her ass and his cock deep inside her, she seemed to grow tighter. Her arms trembled. Her legs weakened and Assou felt the exhaustion in his bones a little more with every movement. The feeling of swimming against the current to reach the goal. The blood continued to pool. Dinem¡¯s tightness crushed him and it was hardly any longer before he felt something inside him loosen.


    He withdrew hastily; just at the right moment when the tension broke and his lust splashed milky, almost transparent in places, onto her back. These were the last breaths Dinem endured in this position before she dropped to her side and let his sperm run its course.


    Assou himself fell onto his behind. The heat was still building up inside him, but the sweaty skin cooled him down. It seeped through the tunic and stayed on him even when he pulled the shendyt up and took a breath. His cock was still hard, only slowly softening. The blood crept back. His senses caught. His perception wavered and when he put his head in his neck, it was dizziness forcing him to lie down.


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    ¡°You realise this won¡¯t happen again?¡± He spoke it in the middle of everything and nothing. The silence surrounding them both was interrupted only by even breathing, which marked both sides and yet didn¡¯t matter. The exertion had disappeared. No moans, no sighs, no sound of smacking pleasure that built up wet excitement between them.


    ¡°Of course, Vizier,¡± was Dinem¡¯s curt reply. She had nothing more for him, and yet it was more than enough. Words that were meant to give him reassurance and yet did little more than make him sit up again and push the dizziness away.


    Dinem had also sat up and straightened the kalasiris. There was a smile on her lips, while there was a gleam in her eyes in which Assou lost himself in for a moment. His senses reached out to the world she kept hidden and simultaneously he had no choice but to pull them back and lock them in a box where no one would find them. Dinem was nothing more than that. She had only been a diversion.


    When she lifted her gaze and looked at him, there was no disappointment. Nothing had changed between them.


    ¡°Although I must confess that I am perhaps a little greedier than I should be, Vizier,¡± she began suddenly, causing Assou to tilt his head. She hadn¡¯t wiped off his essence. It would stain her clothes, he knew that, but it would also tempt her to wash and clean her dress in a few minutes. He had no doubts about any of this. The only thing that raised questions were her words, which seemed completely different from her actions.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he finally asked.


    ¡°If you ask it of me, I will serve you until one god of death opens judgement for our souls,¡± she began. ¡°I will do whatever you ask, no questions asked. Think of me as an ally.¡± She folded her hands in her lap. ¡°The only thing I ask for is a part of you. I can be anything you desire as long as you give me a part of you.¡±


    Not his love. Not his body. And yet a part of him. As if she would be satisfied enough if he only treated her better than others. If he gave her affection no other slave would receive from him. It sounded like a fair deal, something he could use, because Amenti was all he had allied himself with. Against Maathorneferure, he needed skilful helpers who couldn¡¯t be bribed with money. Friends who wouldn¡¯t betray him.


    ¡°I think I can do that,¡± he agreed. It was good to know that Dinem was on his side. She was reliable, and she had warned him about Maathorneferure before. She saw things he missed and that would make it easier to protect Fatrada. ¡°And I think I have a job for you.¡±


    ¡°You want me to watch the new slave Fatrada so Maathorneferure doesn¡¯t hurt her, don¡¯t you?¡± Dinem¡¯s smile widened. ¡°You¡¯re very easy to read, Vizier.¡±


    She saw right through him, as if she didn¡¯t have to try at all. Dinem¡¯s attention was assured. And it made him smile thinly as he nodded.


    ¡°Exactly. Whatever happens, report back. It¡¯s important for me to know what Maathorneferure is planning.¡± He nodded towards the door, akin to a silent command. ¡°Don¡¯t let her out of your sight.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, Vizier.¡± Dinem¡¯s curt bow hardly seemed like a sign of respect, appeared more like a means to an end, before she turned and went about her business.


    Assou watched her for a moment before exhaling loudly. The tension still lurked in his body and even though the weakness in his muscles was becoming more and more apparent, he never thought of sleep for a moment. Fatrada now had a watchful eye on her shoulders. That made her a case he didn¡¯t need to turn his attention to. Keeping his wits about him was more important. It was essential for him to complete his tasks in an orderly fashion and do something about the Third Great Royal Queen first, instead of getting lost in the spiral that always overtook him.


    In these breaths, it was easier to gather himself. It was simpler to know what came first and what he couldn¡¯t let distract him. His vision was clear. Just as it had been before Fatrada. Completely different and easy to control. The clouds that had fogged his mind were gone.


    Slowly, the tjati stretched his legs and supported himself backwards on his hands. Then he closed his eyes and let his mind fall far into oblivion behind the blackness, where nothing was waiting and no one was calling for him. The only thing taking him in was the strange feeling of soft companionship nestling against his perception, making Assou barely noticeably open his eyes again. The room was still silent, but the strange feeling on him persisted. It brushed against his arm and as he lowered his gaze, a smile flitted across his lips.


    ¡°Amenti... If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d say you are following me.¡± He stroked her head carefully. Her small body seemed as fragile as crumbling stone under his hands and yet she accepted his affection with a soft purr.


    ¡°Have you come to tell me what I can do to get rid of Maathorneferure?¡± It was just a joke. Nothing more and nothing less. But Amenti looked at him with her wide eyes and seemed to absorb his every word. Talking to her dispelled the tension. ¡°These are strange days,¡± he continued. ¡°My messenger is dead. Someone has drawn Horus¡¯ eye on the opposite wall of my room by order, and Fatrada is a slave of the palace. I wouldn¡¯t say anything is going well.¡±


    The cat¡¯s meow gave him reassurance, even if he didn¡¯t know what she meant. Still, she continued to pay attention to him, and looking at Amenti gave him strange certainty about at least one thing.


    ¡°Killing her myself would be too dangerous,¡± he said slowly. ¡°If they catch me, Fatrada will end up alone in this palace. There would be no one left to help her get out of this miserable situation.¡± He lowered his eyes. ¡°So I have to find something to get her killed by Ramesses¡¯ order.¡±

 Helping Hand -3-

    His gaze travelled around the room, following the shelves and examining the papyrus, which he kept lovelessly stacked in some corners. He had less sensitivity than his predecessors. Tidiness wasn¡¯t on his daily agenda and yet he kept everything reasonably organised so as not to lose track of things. It was a compromise that brought with it a touch of understanding.


    ¡°She¡¯s a princess from another country,¡± Assou began again before turning to Amenti. ¡°We know nothing about her there. But we all have our secrets, don¡¯t we? So if I could get my hands on something against Maathorneferure to make her life difficult, a lot of the problems would be solved.¡±


    It was the ideal option to come out on top. With any luck, he would dig up something that would tarnish the image of a goddess descended to man. Something that could prove she wasn¡¯t even half the woman she was trying to portray.


    With a determined nod, Assou got to his feet. In order to dominate their game, he had to make a proposal to Ramses that conveyed nothing more than goodwill.


    ¡°And apart from that, I need a new messenger... Then I can devote myself to her homeland.¡± The mumble of his words sounded like the only useful thing in the room, and yet it was nothing more than an outspoken thought for which he had to do a few things.


    Including the task of being presentable.


    It had escaped him before, but the sweat on his body gave off a bitingly sour odour, making him wrinkle his nose. The previously exuberant heat had disappeared, leaving him with only the exertion clinging to him in a cold, stale way. Before he could face Ramsses, he had to take a bath. One that would give him a good night¡¯s sleep so he could present the proposal with conviction the next day.


    Without further ado, Assou gathered a few items of clothing from a box before making his way to the bathroom, which was only graced by shadows. At least, until he almost bumped into someone at a corner.


    The rags on her body were worn and stained, while wondrously charming hair hung neatly braided over one shoulder. Her almond-shaped eyes stared at him for a moment before she lowered her eyelids and bowed. The listless ¡°Vizier¡±, she spat at his feet.


    Without further ado, Fatrada brushed past him, giving him the rank of an ignorant man and making him whirl around to grab her by the shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something, but fell silent when she turned to face him. There was no sparkle in her eyes, no joy at seeing him again. Instead, she met him with cold, unabashed rejection.


    ¡°I see your tongue is still missing.¡± She crossed her arms in front of her chest. ¡°Could it be you swallowed it?¡±


    She still didn¡¯t care who he was; didn¡¯t care about her new position and the incredible distance between them. In her eyes, there was only him and her. Two people who had somehow missed each other.


    The tajati bowed his head silently. Part of him smiled at her behaviour. He should never have expected anything else. The rest of him tried to soothe Fatrada. The words in his head were hard to catch before he dared to raise his head and give her a quick glance.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t say anything,¡± he then confessed. ¡°The Third Great Royal Queen is behind what happened and she had me in her hands in those moments. If I had spoken in your favour, it would have ended badly for both of us.¡±


    ¡°Bad for both of us?¡± Fatrada raised her brows. ¡°Or bad for you, Vizier Assou?¡± The corners of her mouth pulled down and the coldness in her gaze sent a shiver down his spine. ¡°You are responsible for putting me in this position and all you can come up with are justifications I don¡¯t want to hear. You could have said something, and you chose not to.¡±


    ¡°To protect you!¡± Assou replied helplessly. His hands slid through the tension between them, while his voice softened. He didn¡¯t have the strength for an argument. ¡°I didn¡¯t want her to do anything more to you.¡±


    ¡°More than make me a slave after my husband¡¯s death?¡± She snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t you think death would have been kinder?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that... You certainly would have regretted not having an alternative.¡±


    ¡°Me or you?¡± She shook her head. ¡°This isn¡¯t an alternative. Of course I could get out of this situation, but we both know that would require a marriage to you. No other man would want a cheap slave like me by his side.¡±


    ¡°That... That wasn¡¯t...¡± He pressed his lips together. Fatrada brought up an option he hadn¡¯t considered and yet it had been present all along. It had been an afterthought that had secretly woven itself into his presence. After all, he was the only man who would take her as his wife in this state without batting an eyelid. The rope had wrapped itself around his neck completely unnoticed and threatened to hang him at the same moment.


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    ¡°I applaud you, Vizier,¡± Fatrada continued, unfazed. ¡°But before I accept the title of wife at your side, I would rather die as a slave.¡±


    She didn¡¯t give him time to find new words. Instead, she turned away from him and hurried off in quick strides; away from him and any excuses he might have been able to muster. What remained was a heaviness that settled on his shoulders and immobilised his legs. Nothing in him could summon the strength to take a single step, even though he had a plan.


    Circumstances could improve. Perhaps without Maathorneferure he could even release Fatrada. She could live a normal life.


    One she didn¡¯t want.


    With a sigh, he put a hand to his forehead. His luck had run out, and Bastet smiled at him. To the gods, he was probably considered entertainment. A man who conjured nothing but problems with all his decisions when everything had gone well before. Back then, when Fatrada had been insignificant in his world and Maathorneferure had only been a distant idea of the pharaoh. The only thing he was left with was the certainty that Fatrada was all right. She was unharmed. That was more than he had hoped for, and Dinem would observe everything else. He could let go. For now, he could devote himself to damage limitation.


    Assou took another deep breath before straightening his slumped posture and continuing on his way to the bathroom. This time, he couldn¡¯t be careless. He couldn¡¯t fall into another trap. Everything else came afterwards.


    The bath water greeted him with the gentle scent of flowers, so his clothes slipped off his body faster than he wanted to realise and the warm wetness embraced him barely a moment later. The sweat came off, the tiredness increased, and the hazy feeling of sleep nestled against him. Slowly, he leant against one of the basin walls and settled down on the raised platform below. Normally, it served as a seat for the pharaoh when two or three slaves endeavoured to wash his body. Assou took this place with swaying legs and weak limbs. It was a haven of peace, a place where he could let himself go.


    His hands stroked his arms and upper body repeatedly, washing away the strain from his muscles as if it had never been there. Simultaneously, he leant back a little and let the silence penetrate deep into his senses. No thoughts formed, no one demanded anything of him. Every breath gave him the rest, freedom and peace that had been lost at the front. In these moments, he could be the child his mother had comforted with a soft smile on some days. Carefree and lost in thought, knowing he could linger a little longer in this place.


    ¡°Should a man rest when there are things he can solve in the meantime?¡± A whisper reached him, gentle, like a breeze and yet so poisonous that Assou jumped up. His legs slipped before he could find his feet, so he only moved forward before turning round.


    Behind him, a boy smiled, like a messenger, and yet completely different. The chin-length black hair framed a fine face resembling that of a girl. The brown eyes had a glimmer of amber and this child¡¯s smile mocked him without hiding.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Assou¡¯s gaze travelled along the slender body, which straightened up from its crouch and put its hands on its hips. The ruffled shendyt was spotless and the sandals on his feet conveyed he must come from a high-class family. However, he was certainly not part of the palace.


    ¡°Me?¡± Brows raised, the boy placed a hand on his bare chest as the fine gold chain, studded with tiny blue stones, jingled on his head. It was impossible, and yet Assou thought he recognised the distant sound. ¡°I am nothing more than a messenger boy.¡±


    ¡°A messenger boy?¡± His appearance was far too different from that.


    ¡°A messenger boy,¡± he confirmed to the tjati. ¡°You can call me Maged.¡±


    ¡°Like-¡°


    ¡°The divine beasts with the long horns, that¡¯s right,¡± the boy finished proudly. ¡°I was sent to help you. You need information, and I can get it for you.¡±


    Assou couldn¡¯t stop eyeing him. His senses could barely follow the words and yet a part of him clung to the stranger¡¯s kind offer. Even if caution had to be a part of him, this offered hand seemed to be a twist of fate.


    ¡°What do you ask in return for your services?¡± The tension eased from the vizier¡¯s bones.


    ¡°Believe me when I tell you that every step you take is a bit of self-interest on my part,¡± Maged replied. ¡°As soon as you have what you desire from Ramesses, I will set off for the land far away in your favour. To where Maathorneferure knows her home to be.¡±


    It sounded like a very simple task, a stone¡¯s throw from place to place. But Assou knew better.


    ¡°You realise it will be a long journey and time is short,¡± Assou told the boy, his eyes fixed firmly on the slender figure. But Maged smiled at his every word with disinterest, almost as if none of this could stop him. A fragile truth, if he was indeed a messenger of the gods.


    Inwardly, Assou could only shake his head. The gods didn¡¯t place themselves in the hands of a foolish human. There was no reason to help him like this. But this boy, who pretended to be a messenger and yet had to be so much more, had come to him to help.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that,¡± Maged finally replied. ¡°I¡¯m an excellent runner.¡±


    Assou stared at him for a moment. Putting himself in the hands of a stranger was the opposite of wise. He wanted to approach things more clearly, to stop making hasty decisions. Anything else would once again throw problems at his feet he couldn¡¯t control. And yet the muscles under his body tightened, lifting his shoulders and making him lower his head. His fingers twitched as if they wanted to reach out to this child. His senses planned to jump at the suggestion; the rest of him knew better.


    He knew it perfectly well.


    But his tongue squirmed, disobeyed, resisted his mind, and when the next breath found its way into his lungs, Assou couldn¡¯t help but open his mouth. ¡°Alright.¡±

 Fatrada -1-

    He couldn¡¯t get his foolish agreement out of his mind for a second. Although Assou¡¯s footsteps echoed and the shadows crept gently at his feet, he couldn¡¯t distract himself from the fact he had agreed. He had listened to the words of a strange boy ¨C a being who had presumably given himself the name of a deity. Maged. Yet this child shared little with these glamorous figures.


    Pressing his lips together, Assou wiped his damp hands on the shendyt. The odour of the previous day no longer clung to his body, yet every sensation still lingered in his bones. His sluggish gait made shuffling noises, and the patter of his feet sounded like drops of water. His thoughts could hardly focus on anything other than Maged and simultaneously the certainty he was doing it for Fatrada came to the fore. He had to free her, give her a new life, reconcile with her so he could hold her tightly in his arms. Everything so that one day she would be his.


    He snorted.


    She shouldn¡¯t be his; she shouldn¡¯t look like a possession to be proudly displayed to others. And yet ¨C although the soft throbbing in his chest seemed sweet ¨C he wanted her for himself. She shouldn¡¯t belong to anyone but him. Once Maathorneferure was out of the picture, there was hope of winning Fatrada¡¯s favour again. She was no longer married. There was no man to stand in his way. He could woo her with a clear conscience. All thanks to a woman who could have nothing more in common with the ugliest diseases in existence and yet for whom that unyielding, unwilling sound in his head begged for gratitude. Maathorneferure had taken from him the very thing that had blocked his path. Without Nagib, there was no reason for Fatrada to be faithful to anyone. She had fulfilled her duties as a woman. No one would blame her if she became someone else¡¯s wife. No one would object if she fell into the hands of the vizier.


    It was a ridiculous thought. A future he clung to, even though it was so far away, it almost seemed like a dream. Yet every word of his thoughts was like lead on his tongue. Forcing Fatrada into a position she didn¡¯t want was wrong; and yet it was the only right thing to do.


    With a loud sigh, the tjati ran both hands down his face before pushing the dark clouds of discord away and clinging to something else. The preparations to get rid of Maathorneferure were of greater importance than distant thoughts, which he could devote himself to for countless days afterwards.


    The pharaoh¡¯s hall shrouded him in glorious splendour shortly afterwards and the silence in which Ramesses sat alone on his throne clung like days gone by to every figure that entered. The pharaoh rested his head on one hand, his eyes half closed. The guards were nowhere to be seen and the gentle smell of a scented candle enveloped his senses. It was a fragrance that Assou couldn¡¯t categorise and yet recognised as a spice.


    Before ascending to the throne, he dropped to one knee and bowed. However, it took a moment for Ramesses to recognise him.


    ¡°Vizier.¡± His head rose slowly before he assumed an upright position. ¡°Is there any news?¡±


    ¡°Not much, my pharaoh.¡± Assou raised his head. ¡°Preparations for the feast are underway. An idea has come to me that I would like to share with you.¡±


    Ramesses¡¯ interest visibly increased as he shifted forward in his seat. Conversations demanding a part of him were better than sitting around and enjoying solitude. ¡°What is your concern?¡±


    ¡°Maathorneferure is a young woman who hasn¡¯t yet had a child with you, my pharaoh. Now we want to organise a feast in honour of Meritamen. But what if we combine this festival with a fertility festival to make Maathorneferure fertile for a child?¡±


    The humming leaving Ramesses¡¯ throat brought neither approval nor enthusiasm. His face remained fixed, his gaze directed far into the distance, before he nodded slowly. ¡°That¡¯s an excellent idea. Arrange whatever you see fit. But make sure Meritamen doesn¡¯t get swallowed up in all this. The feast is for her and only then for Maathorneferure.¡±


    ¡°As you wish.¡± Assou bowed his head once more before rising and taking a few steps backwards in a half bow. Only then did he turn away and disappear back into the corridors of the palace in an upright manner.


    It wasn¡¯t difficult to convince Ramesses. He was the kind of ruler who could be controlled if you only pretended to dependent on him. This also made him an excellent king for keeping peace. War wasn¡¯t something he was keen on ¨C especially not at his age. Instead, he favoured the comfortable circumstances of the palace and forged connections far more important than any battle they could have fought.


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    It made the tjati groan once more. Losing Maathorneferure would be a setback in this case, but it was inevitable. There were enough illnesses to serve as an excuse. No one would stand against the Egyptian Empire if there was no culprit behind Maathorneferure¡¯s death. No one longed for a battlefield. That was the big advantage. It let Assou get away with it.


    ¡°Are you looking for me, or have you already forgotten about my presence?¡±


    Instantly, Assou stopped and turned round. Behind him, leaning comfortably against a wall, was Maged. His arms crossed in front of his slim chest, he had raised his brows and tilted his head. His entire existence conveyed the allure of divine intervention, and yet the vizier wasn¡¯t surprised. Instead, he turned to the boy. ¡°Neither of those things.¡±


    ¡°Well then, if it was neither, what is it now?¡± The grin on the child¡¯s features mocked, but barely reached Assou.


    ¡°You can go about your business and visit the land where Maathorneferure grew up. Bring me as much negative information about her as you can find and return with her parents for the feast as soon as possible,¡± Assou demanded. ¡°Don¡¯t get caught and try not to attract attention.¡±


    ¡°I understand, Vizier.¡± With a giggle on his lips, Maged pushed himself away from the wall and aimed for the exit. Assou looked after him, watching as the tiny figure eventually disappeared from his field of vision and left him behind.


    It was everything he could have wished for. His countermovement was on fire and whatever Maathorneferure planned next, he would see it through to judge her in the end. If the battles were hers, the war was on his side.


    Pursing his lips, he exhaled softly and remained trapped in his position for a moment longer before going about his own business. His plan was working as he had expected. Step by step. Even if a few unexpected components had been added, it was going better than expected.


    No one was waiting for him in his study. The only thing greeting him were the endless papyrus scrolls looking at him as if he had committed a crime. Without further ado, he picked up the first of them, read through the contents, and was ultimately left with a snort. The slaves were still dying like flies and the hoped-for replenishment didn¡¯t last long. If things continued like this, it would be the upper classes who would end up having to bear the pharaoh¡¯s burdens. He had no choice but to turn on his heel and make his way back, straight to the front of the palace, over to the royal stables where the court¡¯s valuable horses were kept. The guards at the entrance greeted him, dull and irrelevant. It wasn¡¯t enough to elicit more than a nod before he went to the first horse and led it out of the stables. They were all tame, and even if he didn¡¯t get on with a few of them, the mare he had chosen was one of the more endearing creatures.


    Without further ado, he mounted and let the horse walk a few metres before looking down at himself. He should have put on shoes to ward off the dirt and look more formal. But the uncomfortable leather cramped his feet and just the thought of having to wear it for half the day sent a shiver down his spine. The light blue tunic on his body and the gold bracelets had to be enough to represent status and power.


    ¡°Which way, Vizier?¡± A guard crept close to him, spear firmly in hand.


    ¡°I need to inspect the construction of the latest wish of our lord and Pharaoh Ramsses II,¡± the tjati replied slowly. ¡°And yes, I need two guards to accompany me.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t be too careful. In this city, he might get away unseen or intimidate people, but outside, people were getting wilder. It was no secret that rich travellers were robbed and that even the slaves liked to grab things that didn¡¯t belong to them.


    The guard who had addressed him waved a hand to two other men who had already led two horses out of the stables to mount up. Assou only gave them a quick glance before turning round and nodding to the man. Then he gave the horse the command to run off; a swift movement causing the animal¡¯s body to rebel before it obeyed. At a gallop, the mare carried him along the path, away from the palace, straight into no-man''s-land within countless moments. Dust swirled up, labourers passed him insignificantly, and the sand surrounding them shone under the strong, hot rays of the day¡¯s sun.


    The ride to the construction site, where Ramesses¡¯ latest desire was being realised, took less than half a day¡¯s ride. The horses flew over the land with such ease Assou thought he would arrive in the blink of an eye, even though the heat made him sweat under his clothes.


    There wasn¡¯t much to see of what was to be created. Hundreds of slaves heaved stones, stacked them and had them lifted into the air on specially designed structures. There was a solid stone floor and three pillars reaching so far into the sky the sun was blinding. The size of the structure stretched three hundred paces in length and at least three hundred more in width.


    ¡°It has the charm of a ruin,¡± Assou said quietly as he let his gaze wander. Over the beginnings of a royal tomb, over countless heads and emaciated bodies, in search of the supervision that couldn¡¯t be found far and wide.


    The horses moved forward at a leisurely pace, passing toiling slaves who, completely naked, knew only the dirt for clothing. Sweat made their bodies glisten under the burning sun of Re. Assou scrutinised every one of them, noting protruding ribs and dead eyes. The shaky legs of old people. Weak arms of young boys who seemed just old enough to do their first shopping alone.


    In the distance, a clapping sound came through to him, painful groans alongside snide gasps. It was a sound he followed, tumbling further into the centre of the crowd to catch sight of the overseer amidst the stone supplies ¨C a tall man in clean shendyt and an airy tunic. No jewellery. All that adorned him was the whip in his hands.

 Fatrada -2-

    Death hung in the air, spreading a pungent, sweet odour that made the tjati¡¯s bile rise in his throat. Behind the warden lay two people who were no longer moving. The heat drained even the death from their bodies, wrapping itself tightly around the decaying corpses with the aim of turning them to dust.


    The snap of the whip drew his gaze back to the action. Another man was being whipped, relentless and unyielding. Blood oozed from burst wounds while the boy crouched on the ground, waiting for his end.


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem to read the messages they send you,¡± Assou interjected, loud enough to stop the overseer and cause his gaze to waver in the vizier¡¯s direction. His eyes slid along him a few times. At least the elegant clothing didn¡¯t make him look like a run-of-the-mill idiot.


    ¡°Who are you and why are you meddling in my affairs?¡± Without further ado, the overseer spat out before running a hand over his bald head and crossing his arms in front of his chest.


    ¡°It¡¯s not your business,¡± Assou replied. ¡°Your treatment of the slaves is entirely Egypt¡¯s business. I remember I sent you a message clearly stating how you should deal with the slaves.¡±


    Silence fell between them for a moment before the overseer¡¯s features relaxed, and his eyes widened. He seemed to have put the pieces of the puzzle together as he lowered his arms and bowed deeply. ¡°Forgive my unkind tone, Vizier.¡±


    Assou waved away his apology. ¡°What is your excuse for these circumstances? News has reached me of hundreds of slaves still dying in less than nine days.¡±


    ¡°My lord, they are slaves. Is it not irrelevant whether they live or die? They are replaceable. Forgive my ignorance, but I don¡¯t understand the problem.¡±


    ¡°The problem,¡± the tjati continued with a sigh, ¡°is that the resources for new slaves have been used up. We have to take care of what we possess if this construction is to be completed without us having to do it ourselves. Or do you want to continue the construction alone?¡±


    ¡°No, my lord.¡± The overseer shook his head hastily. ¡°What can I do to avoid that?¡±


    Of course, he didn¡¯t want to lend a hand. Physically hard labour was reserved for poor people. For the people who couldn¡¯t find work elsewhere and still had to survive somehow. Assou could understand that. He didn¡¯t have the strength for physically hard labour himself. Filling the gaps that had been torn open would wear them both out in no time.


    ¡°What I already noted in my last message. Give the slaves a day¡¯s rest every seven days. Increase the food and water rations. A break in the morning where they can rest. No work after sunset,¡± he listed the points he had recorded at some point. It was enough freedom to improve life out here. More food would keep them going and enough water would ensure no one broke down under the heat. The rest was nothing more than kindness, which Assou spread in the knowledge Ramesses II would agree with his ideas.


    That was the simple part of his job. He was the king¡¯s right-hand man. The people surrendered to his will without asking whether Ramesses had agreed. In addition, better treatment of slaves improved the image of the country. They did their work and obeyed, completed their labour in the same time and lasted longer than others. A friendly treatment Assou could observe more easily than the eternal whippings spreading nothing but hatred. Resentment that could drive these men to rebellion.


    ¡°I will heed your instructions, my Vizier. I will take the first steps today,¡± the overseer promised, and even if the tjati wanted to believe him, he was aware of the idiosyncrasies embedded in people.


    ¡°Very well. I will send a guard every week to check the circumstances.¡± It was the safest way, and his counterpart showed nothing but understanding. A lack of trust was nothing new in this world.


    With a restrained nod, Assou revealed to the warden that business was concluded. A classic gesture to fill the strange void between the fronts. Only then did he turn the mare round and trot past the two guards, who had fixed him with watchful eyes. They were only a short distance from him and yet there was enough room for someone to stand in their middle. Almost as if they could see more than he could.


    The way back passed them by lazily. The sand baptised the land golden. The sun sank a little lower with every breath and the silence was only broken by the snorting of the horses as they trudged along the firm paths.


    All the way to the palace, the day seemed to wrap itself in a pre-evening robe. The sky took on the same colour as the land, and the light only burned in the corners like a forgotten fire. By the time Assou had put his horse back in the stable, there was no longer a trace of the sun and the sky lay above him in a pale, dark discord. Not much longer and the evening would have swallowed them all whole.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Vizier!¡± Out of nowhere, before Assou could even reach the inside of the palace, one slave stopped him; a young man whose flawless body suggested he was one of the queen''s assistants.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°The Great Royal Queen Maathorneferure is asking for you.¡±


    The sigh on his lips weighed heavily. The slaves had pushed this woman to the back of his mind, and just to think she was bored enough to ask for him didn¡¯t bode well. Especially not when Fatrada was part of the palace.


    ¡°Tell her I don¡¯t have time to deal with her absurd ways. I am a vizier. I have work to do.¡± Without further ado, Assou waved it off. Whatever she wanted, he wouldn¡¯t give it to her. She had already played all her cards. There was nothing she had left to hold against him.


    ¡°She knew you would refuse,¡± the slave replied slowly. ¡°Therefore, I am to inform you that if your decision isn¡¯t reconsidered, the consequences could be unpleasant.¡±


    ¡°What does she want to do? Explain to our pharaoh how she would be a better vizier than me?¡±


    ¡°She said something about whipping a woman you cared about. One hundred lashes.¡± The man bowed. ¡°And a hundred more if you still haven¡¯t turned up at her place afterwards.¡±


    Of course, she would go that far. Even if he had told Dinem to keep an eye on Fatrada, a slave was nothing against a queen. If Maathorneferure wanted something, she would take it. She dug her nails into the object of her desire and tore it to pieces whenever she pleased. This made her dangerous and vulnerable as well. She couldn¡¯t see beyond the walls she had set for herself.


    Still, all Assou could do was snort as he nodded to the slave and pushed his way into the palace, straight to Maathorneferure¡¯s room.


    Knocking would have been too kind. Doing her the favour of having more power than she deserved was out of the question. So he opened the door without warning and entered ¨C straight into the rose-scented room of the beast who had summoned him. Behind that was the sweet smell of lust. Moaning. Different from what he had heard from the slaves and yet similar in its own way.


    The fabrics hanging down stole the tjati¡¯s vision, so he entered and fought his way through the colours until he arrived at the exact spot where he had slept with two female slaves before. Maathorneferure was resting on her bed, her head propped up in one hand. A sight he could only hold for a moment before he glanced to the side, where two men were making love to a woman. Their skin seemed to melt into that of their partners and Assou¡¯s nose wrinkled as he took in the sight of a man¡¯s backside. It wasn¡¯t a pleasant view and yet he was mesmerised as he watched them take this woman between them and stuff every available opening.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t knock.¡± Maathorneferure¡¯s smile briefly touched him. ¡°Could you sense the lust in the corridor and weren¡¯t able to hold back? Or were you worried it might happen to the palace¡¯s new slave?¡±


    ¡°Neither,¡± he confessed. ¡°I just didn¡¯t see a reason to knock and wait to be invited.¡± He shrugged his shoulders. ¡°What do you want from me?¡±


    ¡°Look at them.¡± Instead of answering, she returned her attention to her slaves, who gave free rein to their lust. ¡°They¡¯re like animals, aren¡¯t they? The main thing is to get the lust out of their bodies. Nobody would say no to a chance, would they?¡±


    He raised his eyebrows indecisively. Whether she spoke to him or wanted to keep to herself, only the gods knew, but her words were nothing more than the nature they lived in. She smiled at something that was part of being human and yet lay outlandishly between them. Maathorneferure remained mesmerised by the sight, by the willing sounds of three humans pleasuring themselves in front of her because she had told them to. Her world was more twisted than his own.


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d give you a treat if you could see something you¡¯d otherwise be denied.¡± All at once, Maathorneferure addressed him again. ¡°I suppose no woman gives you pleasure willingly.¡±


    ¡°What gives you that idea?¡± He raised his brows.


    ¡°You¡¯re a vizier who only cares about work. Apart from that, you¡¯re by no means lovable or handsome. Women who show interest do so because of your status, not because of your...¡± She searched for the right words before smirking. ¡°Because of your face.¡±


    ¡°Such words from a queen who isn¡¯t expecting a child.¡± Without further ado, the tjati tilted his head. ¡°Should you really mock someone like me when you can¡¯t even be a good wife to Ramesses?¡±


    ¡°Ramesses?¡± She laughed. ¡°Ramesses is nothing more than a foolish man who doesn¡¯t do justice to a goddess. He talks about things he thinks are great and yet he remains a small man in the middle of the plans the gods have made.¡± She brushed one of her long, dark strands of hair behind her ear with nimble fingers. ¡°Not to mention he hardly seems potent.¡±


    ¡°Which explains why you asked for me. You are desperate.¡± Assou couldn¡¯t help smiling. The possibility of provocation remained too tempting. ¡°That explains your bottomless threat. If I don¡¯t come here and pay attention to you, who will?¡±


    Instantly, her lips twisted into a biting grimace before she regained her composure and shifted her position. Previously placed sideways on the bed, she now sat up straight, legs crossed ¨C ready to execute him whenever she pleased.


    ¡°Bring her here!¡± She snapped her fingers and encouraged a few slaves to run off. For a few breaths, nothing seemed to happen until they returned with a woman who made Assou gulp.


    Fatrada staggered between them, exhausted but still in good health. There was no sign of the anger with which she had rebuked him.


    Next to Maathorneferure, the slaves dumped her and it seemed as if the sheer weight of the circumstances was dragging her to the ground. She fell to her knees as if there was no support and although Assou wanted to pull her to him in those seconds, there were too many hurdles ahead of him ¨C especially the Third Great Royal Queen.

 Fatrada -3-

    ¡°Isn¡¯t the sight of her what fulfils you?¡± The smile on her face played with him. ¡°Here, I¡¯ll give you everything you ever wanted. All you have to do is be the animal you are deep down inside.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m amazed you¡¯re wasting so much time trying to find out everything about me.¡± Slowly, the tjati shifted his weight onto one leg and lowered his eyelids. Whatever was going through this woman¡¯s mind, it couldn¡¯t be good. It seemed she had been persuaded that he was the only valuable target in this palace.


    ¡°I¡¯ve told you before. You¡¯re not the only one with eyes and ears everywhere,¡± she replied before leaning back. Her attention stared down at him from above and the certainty she wouldn¡¯t give him more than two more breaths clung to her lips. ¡°And now I¡¯m ready to give you what you crave.¡±


    For a moment, he waited. She allowed him the silence, the uncertainty, the knowledge she¡¯d give him something without rubbing it in right away. She enjoyed the fact of making him wait. Him, a man of status, who shouldn¡¯t let himself be dominated in this way and who still had nothing to oppose her with.


    Only when the breathing of some slaves became restless and the sighing at his feet had ceased; when no one made a sound, did Maathorneferure reach out a hand to him. ¡°Give her a few wonderful minutes, buried under your body and forced to cheat on her late spouse with you.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± The rejection came over him faster than he could realise. Refusing her didn¡¯t get him one step closer, and yet there was no question of laying a hand on Fatrada. His eyes fastened on her exhausted body and the first thing he noticed were the soft, brown eyes with which she looked at him. In those breaths, she didn¡¯t hate him. She was no longer angry with him and maybe, just maybe, she even felt a bit of gratitude for him defying Maathorneferure.


    ¡°Since when are you so shy, Vizier? You took the last two slaves I gave you with pleasure, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    It was no lie, and yet Assou¡¯s gaze kept darting back and forth between the queen and Fatrada. But there was no change in Fatrada¡¯s eyes and Maathorneferure didn¡¯t hide a thing. Everyone in the room wouldn¡¯t say a word about anything - not least because the only thing behind a confession was death.


    ¡°Slave?¡± Without further ado, the third Great Royal Queen turned to Fatrada. ¡°Undress.¡±


    Fatrada¡¯s eyes widened. Her features lost their composure, and though she knew she could say nothing in return, she lingered on the ground a moment longer, hoping Maathorneferure would take her words back. But the silence she consumed ate through to Fatrada¡¯s bones as well. So slowly that she barely got to her feet.


    Her trembling body betrayed her and even though she was the most beautiful woman Assou knew, even though he wanted nothing more than to possess her, he looked away. His gaze clung to the queen as the soft, rubbing sound reached his ears and the silence afterwards lingered mind-numbing in his flesh.


    She deserved that respect. In those breaths, no part of the greed in him was great enough to let her fall this far.


    ¡°Is she not ... acceptable?¡± Maathorneferure gave him another of her smiles. ¡°Just look at her.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Assou returned once more, only to see the corners of her mouth twitch downwards. Her enthusiasm was limited, and yet she wasn¡¯t ready to give him the choice. She still had a threat for him and, even if it seemed a little like unfounded hope, he dared to take a breath.


    ¡°You¡¯re stubborn,¡± she finally remarked, before separating their crossed legs and placing them gracefully side by side. ¡°I¡¯ll give you that part. You amaze me, Vizier.¡±


    Control. Something he had learnt from his father. Life was all about self-control, something he¡¯d once lost somewhere between Fatrada and the market, but which lingered deep within him like an anchor at this moment. Resisting lust wasn¡¯t difficult if you didn¡¯t let it enter your mind. Above everything Maathorneferure offered, concern for Fatrada loomed high. Worry that kept him from admitting defeat.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°Is that all you wanted from me?¡± Without batting an eyelid, the tjati kept his eyes on her. Maathorneferure wasn¡¯t a woman who could simply be pushed away. Either she won or she took the things she wanted by force. He wouldn¡¯t escape, he knew that, and yet his heart pounded like a drum in his chest.


    ¡°Not in the slightest,¡± she replied softly. ¡°But I think I¡¯ll make you an offer today.¡± Her giggle was reminiscent of a snake¡¯s hiss. ¡°Choose between me and your dearest Fatrada.¡±


    A little honour or the end of a hope. The first thought that came over him was exactly the one he was left with. Choosing wasn¡¯t the most challenging part of the situation, but saying it was all the more complicated. The answer stuck to his tongue like honey, and all the eyes in the room shared his unease.


    He opened his mouth, closed it silently, swallowed and tried again. ¡°If I have to choose, my pick is you, Maathorneferure.¡±


    The smile on her lips widened before she brushed her long hair to one side. ¡°How could it have been otherwise? I¡¯m not the most beautiful woman in Egypt for nothing.¡±


    He wanted to counter, but she raised her hand faster than he could find the words. ¡°Go get your reward.¡±


    She didn¡¯t give him time to think clearly and, in the same vein, didn¡¯t care about making things easier for him. She spread her legs wide enough to give him a clear view of flawless skin. It was an unspoken request that she forced upon him without letting him mislead her for a single second. She didn¡¯t send Fatrada away, nor did she care about the people in the room. They probably already knew nobody would ever find out about all this.


    Assou reluctantly pushed himself forward. His feet shuffled across the floor and the strange listlessness gripping him made every muscle as heavy as stone. Nothing in him wanted to give in to this woman, no matter how beautiful she was. She didn¡¯t have what Fatrada had. There was no charm, no real beauty. She was nothing more than a doll that excited him less than the slaves. Feeling the skin of the other two women had made them real. Taking Maathorneferure by the thigh, however, sent a shiver down his spine.


    ¡°You are free to show me why the gods have gifted you with a tongue.¡± With a dismissive wave of her hand, she leant back and looked for a relaxed position where she could still watch him.


    In these breaths, he was nothing more than breeding stock begging for his life. The thought made him clench his teeth before he took a breath and tried to compose himself. All her ideas were worthless. And even if his beloved was watching, the circumstances were better than what he¡¯d been offered elsewhere. Fatrada deserved more than that. She deserved to be loved, away from the masses - as a person and not as a spectacle.


    Slowly, the tjati approached Maathorneferure¡¯s wet centre. Her desire brought him to his knees, his gaze lowered, and her soft scent nestled against his perception. Looking up and countering her gaze would get him nowhere. Looking into her mocking eyes would only make his defeat more present. It was better if the world sank into the background. No one stayed, no one looked at him. The shameful silence in the room ebbed away. He was completely irrelevant.


    His lips approached Maathorneferure at foreseeable intervals. Even if Fatrada had to watch, she would understand. She was a smart woman; one who knew when something wasn¡¯t going the way it should. Closing his eyes and tuning out Maathorneferure, seeing Fatrada in her place, was all it took to make the situation more passionate.


    Then, suddenly, his lips settled on her vulva and gave her a kiss before he spread her with his fingers and let his tongue glide over the pink flesh. The scent of roses settled in his nose, combining with the sweet flavour of creamy lust, while a playful sigh came through to him in the background. A sound whose high, soft tone travelled through the room like the whistling of the wind. As if the gods were putting words into light gusts to tell the world something.


    Assou let himself be guided by the noise, listening to the sound of a satisfied woman whose thighs spread wider as his tongue penetrated her deeper. In quick movements, his muscle twisted inside her, probing every inch of her being, tasting the strange sweetness while the moisture made breathing difficult. The heat between her legs soaked the oxygen, pressing into his lungs so relentlessly he thought he was losing his senses. But his perception remained clear. No one was letting him escape. Instead, heavy chains bound him to this place as his tongue slid over her lower lips, circling the small pearl, making Maathorneferure twitch. Her sighs became steadier. Fabric rustled and the silence behind crushed him.


    Until there was nothing left of him.


    The thought shot through his head like a memorial, clinging to his body with an amused laugh and dragging him further down. Far into a depth where his emotions only penetrated him as if through cotton wool. His body seemed to go limp. Nothing stimulated the cells inside him further. Nothing lured him out of his safety. In the darkness, he was untouchable. Safe enough not to want more than what he was given. The sweet taste was nothing more than that: sweet. What he did was just a simple task, a will he complied with. A desire to sink him into the depths.

 Dirty Secrets -1-

    The sudden tap on his shoulders made Assou flinch. His senses cleared and found distance from the darkness that had swallowed him. All that remained was the strangely numb taste on his tongue, combined with the heat in his cheeks. Everything else was unchanged.


    ¡°What a greedy animal you are, Vizier.¡± Maathorneferure¡¯s curt, light laugh nestled against him. ¡°But I cannot allow you to do as you wish. After all, I am the Pharaoh¡¯s wife. Surely you don¡¯t want to try and get in the way, do you?¡± She tilted her head. ¡°But I¡¯m not a monster who won¡¯t acknowledge your lust.¡±


    As she snapped her fingers, unease spread among the others in the room. Whispers broke out, beady eyes scrutinised him, and no one missed the moment when Dinem stepped out from between them. Her soft, graceful steps stood out from the crowd and didn¡¯t fade even when she caught sight of him. Almost as if she had already guessed that Maathorneferure would go this far.


    Assou didn¡¯t bother to smile. In a situation like this, any expression was out of place. It didn¡¯t fit the circumstances that had been thrown at them. Instead, he turned to the third Great Royal Queen.


    ¡°You sure are bored if you¡¯re asking me for the same thing twice.¡± It wasn¡¯t an attempt to save himself, but it was enough to make Maathorneferure snort. Her lids drooped as she wrinkled her nose and shook her head.


    ¡°It may be the same for you, but it¡¯s something new for Fatrada, isn¡¯t it?¡± Without further ado, she glanced at her newfound slave, whose eyes were glued to Assou like plates.


    Surely, she could never, ever be happy with what he was doing. In the end, he had wooed her. He had made her promises that vanished into thin air. She was still the most important component in this game.


    He pressed his lips together. It wasn¡¯t a game and yet, with each passing day, he became more accustomed to the idea that all these things were nothing more than a poorly constructed spectacle he had to escape without knowing how. All that remained was acceptance. It was impossible to contradict Maathorneferure when he had nothing to counter her with. It was just one battle of many, and as long as she saw herself in the leading position, there was hope she wouldn¡¯t really notice him ¨C no longer categorising him as competition for a fictitious position that didn¡¯t exist.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t change the fact it doesn¡¯t make much difference to you. An obstacle like this isn¡¯t one, considering that no one will be harmed, and I don¡¯t plan to change anything about the love in my heart.¡± He shrugged his shoulders. ¡°That would merely put me on an equal footing with you.¡±


    ¡°Just say that for as long as you want. It won¡¯t save you.¡± She gestured for him to start with a wave of her hand. He had to entertain her. It was the only thing she asked for, and even if it would have been easier to give her that satisfaction instead, he turned to Dinem.


    Taking his attentions as a sign, she approached and leaned down a bit to undo his shendyt, exposing him to all the others. Nothing that left shame behind, yet still felt cold against his skin. Her nimble fingers gripped his limp cock. A small sign to Fatrada that Maathorneferure had no control over his body. Only when Dinem gave him attention, when her soft lips closed around his penis, did Assou give in. This time, it was all right. It was Dinem. She wasn¡¯t a stranger, and she wasn¡¯t a woman he needed to be wary of. They were allies.


    Her tongue circled his cock as she took it so deeply into her mouth that Assou thought she would devour him. But all he encountered was soft resistance, coated in the moist feeling of her mouth. She sucked on it, slowly releasing it, moving back and forth without bending her knees once. She maintained her uncomfortable position and denied the tjati a view of her plump breasts, which could have lain beneath him like a protective wall.


    Blood pooled in his crotch, lust flared in tiny flashes, and it was enough to pull Dinem off him. What remained was arousal. Meanwhile, her fingers loosened the kalasiris on her body until the fabric slid to the floor, revealing bare skin. Her tan complimented the fabrics in the immediate vicinity and made her stand out as if she were the only true flower among dozens of replicas. Then she moistened her fingers and traced a line between her breasts ¨C down to her pubis. She inserted them between her lower lips while her cat-like gaze remained fixed on Assou.


    For what seemed like an eternity, he watched as her fingers penetrated, taking the lead and awakening her desire. All the while, a strange, damp cold clung to his cock, making the stinging beneath his flesh present and the will exuberant. He could have done it himself, but offering Maathorneferure a spectacle she didn¡¯t deserve was out of the question. All he could do was wait. Silently and quietly, even though his cock twitched and delightful pain penetrated his senses.


    Only when Dinem seemed satisfied with herself did she turn her back to him and bend over in front of him. Her hands rested on her knees and Assou knew she wouldn¡¯t ask him with words. She was going to do it quietly, make it look like she was actually forcing herself.


    For Fatrada¡¯s sake.


    With a snort, the tjati stepped closer. Discovering the invitingly moist line between her legs enticed him and didn¡¯t lose its appeal, even when he separated Dinem¡¯s legs with one foot. He needed that distance. Then he positioned his cock and collected a small amount of the moisture before penetrating ¨C in one fluid motion.


    Dinem¡¯s gasp didn¡¯t escape him and yet gave him no clue as to what she wanted; how they should proceed. Without clear words, he could only follow the deep-seated desire of his loins. He didn¡¯t give her a moment to accept him inside her. Instead, he thrust. Directly and in quick, firm strokes, so a dull slapping sound escaped between them and her skin trembled under his force.


    A sigh escaped his lips too, deep and raspy, as if it weren¡¯t his own voice caught in his throat. Dinem, however, lost her footing and slowly lowered herself to her knees together with Assou. On all fours, her resistance grew. She met him halfway whenever he pushed. It made the clash harder and trapped his penis so tightly that his hands became sweaty. Bouncing his hips on her ass squeezed all the pleasure out of him, draining his senses and turning the pleasant warmth between her legs into arousing heat he pressed against himself. His hands clutched at her waist. Warm skin nestled against his senses as each moan that rolled over her made her body tremble. Taking Dinem this way was different. It was unlike the last time, and though Assou didn¡¯t want to think about it, it seemed to be his watchful eyes quietly putting ideas into his head. They brought something forbidden with them.


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    Still, he thought he could feel Dinem melting under his hands, while Maathorneferure watched with a fixed smile. Next to her Fatrada. The woman who understood in those seconds that he couldn¡¯t escape pleasure. Not even Dinem could keep up the facade. They both fell for the sensation of wanting more of each other; as long as they were given the chance. The flames engulfed them, pressing them into a mould combining lust and sighing. A steady rhythm that travelled through Assou¡¯s loins.


    His thrusts became slower. The desire tried to get out of him. So he withdrew from Dinem, put his hand to it and guided the pleasure to the tip with firm, uniform rubs. A hiss escaped him, dissolving into a soft moan as the pressure disappeared from his cock and he spilled over Dinem¡¯s back.


    Her heavy breathing caught quickly, making her sit down and catch her breath. All while Maathorneferure clapped her hands. It was a snide, solitary applause she gave him.


    ¡°Send them away, both of them.¡± Her command was loud enough to set the entire palace in motion, and yet only two slaves rose to do as she wished.


    Assou waited for them to grab him and throw him out of this room, but instead they took Dinem and Fatrada. They were both led out of the room, away from prying eyes still roaming these walls. He took the opportunity to put his shendyt back on and let out a weary sigh before turning to Maathorneferure, whose gaze still rested on the door.


    ¡°It¡¯s a shame,¡± she then said all at once, before shaking her head. ¡°You should have taken your dearest Fatrada. She¡¯s been standing here all this time, waiting for you, and you¡¯ll do anything not to lay a hand on her.¡±


    ¡°Fatrada isn¡¯t one of your toys,¡± he replied curtly. ¡°But I assume you are aware of that part.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I am,¡± she confirmed, ¡°but whether she feels the same way is a question I can¡¯t answer.¡± She gave him a smile. ¡°In the end, she¡¯s nothing more than a slave.¡±


    She gestured for him to leave with a wave of her hand and Assou didn¡¯t have to be asked a second time. His legs followed her will with such haste that he almost bit his tongue. Obeying her in this way would only please her, and yet he wanted to gain as much distance as the gods could grant him as quickly as possible. He had to get away from her, and he had to find Fatrada. A few words with her would improve the circumstances. She would come to understand him better if she hadn¡¯t yet realised why he was doing all this.


    He shook his head. Fatrada knew. She knew his heart belonged to her alone and that he had to submit to the queen¡¯s will ¨C even as a vizier. It was a little hope he had to cling to.


    In the palace bathroom, filled with the sweet scent of scattered flowers, the tjati found peace. The last time he had sat down in the water, the gods had been merciful to him. But this time, they didn¡¯t even seem to be watching him. Instead, he washed the sweat and lust from his body alone before throwing his clothes back on and straightening his shoulders. He couldn¡¯t succumb to Maathorneferure; couldn¡¯t let her get to him while he knew his target.


    Neither the watchful shadows in the corridors nor the silence in his study could dissuade him. The Eye of Horus was no longer emblazoned on the wall opposite his room. The heaviness lifted, even if the situation itself remained a catastrophe. It was impossible to tell what Maathorneferure was planning. Her words still bit at his ears. He should have chosen Fatrada. He should have acted more wisely. His every decision reared up against him. Whatever he did, it wasn¡¯t good enough. Waiting settled like poison in his flesh and yet, there was nothing he could have done.


    If he rushed his plan, he would be executed. The festival in favour of Meritamen was the best opportunity he had. It gave him time to present Maathorneferure with a choice and perhaps dig her a grave into which she would push herself. But it would be a while before the feast. The tides hadn¡¯t passed by often enough. He had to hold out until his ideas were to become reality.


    With a sigh, he sat down behind his low table and picked up a blank piece of papyrus. He had to record the last events of the slaves, the new regulations and also the day for the next taxes. Money he probably wouldn¡¯t collect himself, because he couldn¡¯t let Maathorneferure out of his sight. There were trustworthy collectors who could be utilised. It was security playing into his hands.


    The rush brushed over the papyrus, tracing the individual symbols, the lines of which he couldn¡¯t get nearly as clean as what he had seen in the message for Fatrada. A wondrously beautiful style of drawing only a few scholars had mastered ¨C if any. Maged might have been able to do it. He was out of the ordinary. And yet, he was a messenger; someone who could be commissioned to solve the questions that arose.


    Assou gave a barely perceptible nod. As soon as Maged returned, his next task would be to gather urgent information. Little things that were certainly no challenge for this boy.


    But Assou¡¯s rush barely managed two more hieroglyphs before Fatrada crept back into his thoughts; her shallow smile completely absent from the palace. He remembered the gleam in her eyes that had looked at him with utter distaste. Circumstances had twisted her, turned her into a woman he didn¡¯t want to see like that. He had to save her, take her into his possession before Maathorneferure made her unrecognisable.


    Again, he shook his head hastily. Fatrada wasn¡¯t an object to be owned, and it was impossible to take a slave from Maathorneferure. She was the third Great Royal Queen. She was probably one of the most powerful women in the palace after Ramesses and the other two queens. As the conscience of the pharaoh, Assou had no more power than a messenger of the gods. Ramesses was a god incarnate and his wives carried on the honourable line. Assou was the messenger of this god. Important, but not irreplaceable.


    Slowly, he put down the rush and supported himself backwards on his hands. The distraction in his head was too great to push it away. Outdoing Maathorneferure became a little more complicated with every idea he crushed. The only thing to do was to conquer Fatrada. He had to get Maathorneferure to give him her slave willingly.


    But depriving a monster of its toy tasted a little impossible. To convince Maathorneferure, he needed more than a few poisonous words, which she would laugh at no less than he had done. She had to have a reason for no longer wanting Fatrada.


    Pretending he didn¡¯t care about her was an option. A difficult one, considering that Maathorneferure never seemed satisfied. Perhaps that was the only reason she would sell Fatrada. It couldn¡¯t be ruled out, and even if he could win a sale, no one assured him the peace of mind of being able to house Fatrada in the palace afterwards with a clear conscience. She wouldn¡¯t even be safe in his own house.

 Dirty Secrets -2-

    The loneliness and the conscience of being unable to find a solution on his own gnawed at him. His life needed movement, something to distract him and perhaps provide answers he couldn¡¯t see on his own. Hiring another human messenger was out of the question after the last one had met his end.


    Without further ado, Assou heaved himself to his feet. He would gather a few small things on his own; the exact details he needed. There had to be people in the palace who didn¡¯t see Maathorneferure as a goddess. The slaves in her room had looked frightened. Perhaps a few of them had the courage to speak. The others would wait for better days; wither in the face of their mistress; and he couldn¡¯t blame them.


    Back in the corridors of the palace, the tjati set his sights on the kitchen. It was the secret meeting place for some slaves. Apart from that, he knew about the common room where they all came to rest. A room that was barely big enough for thirty people and yet housed them close together. In addition, there was the trusted area of the messengers where some poured their hearts out, and Assou knew every one of them well enough to know what they desired. Despite their lack of tongues and knowledge of reading and writing, they had become skilful. Each of them knew how to communicate. Even if very few of them watched the strange theatre they were putting on.


    Near the kitchen, Assou turned off to push his way to the royal messengers¡¯ room. The bored men had settled down at their table and carved the playing fields for Senet into the stone slab. One of them was throwing four throwing sticks when another turned to him. Assou gave them a smile. Then he came closer and watched as the men took their fate in this game into their own hands and pushed their little stone figures across the table. Always like an S-line, anxious to reach the hieroglyphs promising them good things. One man gestured to the vizier to sit down and join in.


    Assou slowly sat down on a free chair and took one figurine set up at the edge. It resembled a small funnel that had been painted blue and black. Together with others, he placed it at the beginning before turning to one messenger and signalling for someone else to start.


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re using throwing sticks. Aren¡¯t astragals more popular?¡± He had to start slowly, not slam the door.


    The man next to him smiled before tapping his chest and putting a hand to his heart before swaying his upper body as if cradling a child. The way these men communicated was idiosyncratic. They didn¡¯t have a language that each of them spoke in the same way, but they knew how to communicate. All it took was a free mind to put the individual movements together into a sentence.


    ¡°A gift from your mother, I see,¡± Assou put together. ¡°A beautiful memory. I assume they are passed down in your family?¡±


    The man nodded. Throwing sticks weren¡¯t much. They had no value and yet in some families they were passed down as a memento. Assou had received wealth and education from his parents ¨C everything he needed to become a worthy vizier one day. But none of this had the same sparkle as the love found in something as simple as throwing sticks.


    When it was the tjati¡¯s turn to throw the sticks, three of them landed on the flat side. That was three squares he was allowed to go. The others watched his figure before nodding and starting the next round.


    ¡° So, do you hear much from the slaves of the palace?¡± Keeping his eyes on the counters, Assou asked his next question. He only lingered in this absence for a moment before turning back to the man on his right. He nodded his head, sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left.


    ¡°So nothing has changed. The same as always.¡± Assou had to smile. ¡°I almost thought more would whisper now that Maathorneferure has become part of the palace.¡± It was a shot in the dark. It was entirely up to the messengers to determine whether they would share the information he needed.


    His fellow player shrugged his shoulders as expected before looking at Assou and grinning wryly. Then he raised his hands and wiggled his fingers as he tried to frame his face. Assou could guess he was referring to the beauty of the Third Great Royal Queen.


    ¡°Yes, she¡¯s pretty to look at,¡± he agreed. He swallowed the bitter aftertaste. ¡°But she comes from another country and sometimes I wonder if the slaves complain about that. After all, Maathorneferure has to acclimatise and Ramesses is worried she might have trouble with that. I don¡¯t think I need to mention her health always seems a bit threatened in that regard.¡±


    He would probably drown in his lies. At this second, they were already up to his neck. The people he always perceived with kindness didn¡¯t deserve to be lied to. But the truth wasn¡¯t the answer. It wasn¡¯t what he could offer them. So he bowed his head and pressed his lips together for a moment.


    ¡°What¡¯s more, the deceased messenger might have scared her off,¡± he continued, thinking about the boy who had sought death in the middle of his duties, even though nothing had ever happened. A problem that accompanied him, considering how short-sighted he was on some days.


    When the messenger placed a hand on his shoulder, Assou dared to push his thoughts away and lift his gaze to look into the worried expression of the man who signalled it was his turn next. So he threw the sticks to move forward two squares and continue to stay on the path of life with his piece. Only then did he turn his attention back to the messenger, who tapped his lips. His fingers travelled to his eyes, his ears, and folded his hands before he bowed his head. It took a moment for Assou to interpret the signs. The man at his side explained to him that the eyes and ears of the palace sometimes talked about what had happened. They prayed, and they whispered.


    ¡°Do they?¡± More to himself than to his seatmate, Assou ran through the options. The slave girls near Maathorneferure were the most likely candidates in his search. Of all the people in this palace, they knew the most.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± he ticked off the Third Great Queen without further ado, ¡°have you spotted a new royal messenger within these walls lately? He has black hair and wears flashy jewellery. Apart from that, his name is Maged. He seems to be a messenger boy of great desire.¡±


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    The man stared at him for a few breaths. The corners of his mouth twitched as if he actually wanted to say something despite his lack of tongue, but all he could manage was a surprised chuckle. Then he shook his head and raised his hands simultaneously to ask Assou to wait. The vizier¡¯s attention never wavered from the man, waiting spellbound for something he couldn¡¯t place, and remained even when the old man hesitated. His shaky hands tried to mould images to replace simple words. He produced a series of movements Assou could only slowly piece together before raising his brows.


    ¡°You think he¡¯s an intruder of the gods?¡± Eventually, the tjati had to follow up. The man¡¯s nod gave him confirmation. ¡°And you¡¯re sure?¡±


    The messenger waved his hands around again. Clear movements that told him it had happened before; that this boy had set foot in the palace before.


    ¡°Do you know why he did it?¡±


    The man shook his head, only managing a feeble explanation ¨C that this child, in all his splendour, had simply strutted into the palace and spoken words to a slave girl.


    Assou tilted his head back thoughtfully. A strange messenger who had joined forces with a slave. Words none of the royal messengers had heard and yet, perhaps, they had been passed around. If it was true, maybe Dinem knew more about it.


    Despite the information he had received, he stayed until the game was over. Only then did he break away from the community and step back into the corridors of the palace. A few slaves scurried past. The groans of a few of them rang in his ears as he found them cleaning the floor with scraps of worn cloth. A few of them eyed him. Others didn¡¯t care about his presence, and it was hard to believe that Maathorneferure hadn¡¯t whispered to them.


    It was only in the kitchen that they took their eyes off him. All that remained was a man and two women, busily tending to the food and hurrying from one corner to the next. Heat was building up in the room, eating through his clothes and driving sweat onto his forehead.


    ¡°Vizier, can we help you?¡± One woman noticed him on the sidelines and briefly put her work aside to bow. Assou waved her off.


    ¡°I¡¯m just here to find out if any of you know anything about an errand boy who wears flashy jewellery and doesn¡¯t belong to this palace.¡±


    ¡°An errand boy?¡± His counterpart tilted her head before she furrowed her brows and shook her mop of short hair. ¡°No one here knows anything about that. But perhaps the slaves who are often seen in the corridors know more. Forgive us for not being able to help you.¡±


    He waved again before forcing himself to smile. Those who worked in the kitchen hardly knew any other room. Yet it was also the place where most of the rumours accumulated. The fact none of them had heard anything about the messenger boy must mean every single one of them had decided to stop talking about what had happened ¨C as if it had never occurred.


    With a nod, he proved his thanks to the cooks before aiming for retreat and pushing off into the corridors, which grew more endless with every breath. It was impossible to question everyone individually. Word of his actions would creep through the entire palace and not only reach Ramesses¡¯ ears, but wouldn¡¯t remain hidden from Maathorneferure, either. And even if the latter posed a problem, in the end it was Ramesses he had to watch out for. The pharaoh wouldn¡¯t accept a tjati who indulged in gossip instead of doing his job.


    His gaze lowered. There had to be another alternative; something that could walk the walls of the palace unseen and not place everything on the shoulders of one person. Dumping everything on Dinem wasn¡¯t an option. She was a slave, not an informant.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± The voice of a stranger made the vizier falter, made him press his body against a wall for a moment and listen. It was wrong and yet his heart was suddenly beating so fast he couldn¡¯t move.


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± replied another, equally unfamiliar voice ¨C that of a man. ¡°First she demands fruit that can¡¯t be found in this country and then she has a slave whipped. What¡¯s next?¡±


    ¡°Who knows... She¡¯s unpredictable.¡±


    Assou cautiously dared to peek around the corner. The corridor stretching out in front of him was endless. But the two slaves who had settled against a wall on the floor offered a vague change.


    It had to be that time of day already. For most, lunch was now beginning and once all the dishes had been served, some slaves found respite in the corridors of the palace. None of them expected to be discovered and even if they were, no one spoke about it. They were all too tired for that.


    ¡°Some days I can¡¯t remember why our Pharaoh made this woman his wife.¡± With a sigh, the slave leaned forwards and rested his upper body on his knees. ¡°She¡¯s beautiful, no doubt about it, but she¡¯s not a clever woman, not like Bintanath, who knows all about food and herbs, and not like Meritamen, whose wisdom supposedly puts even the pharaoh in the shade.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s stupid,¡± said the woman next to him, stretching her legs out and looking up at the ceiling. ¡°Terribly stupid and incredibly clever at the same time. I don¡¯t know how that¡¯s supposed to work. She¡¯s not what you¡¯d expect from a queen... She doesn¡¯t even have etiquette. But she knows everything we slaves know.¡±


    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s normal in the country she comes from. Presumably they teach the nobles there the duties of a slave so they can watch them better and no one would think of trying anything unusual.¡±


    ¡°And you neglect everything else for that?¡±


    As if in slow motion, Assou pulled his head back and pressed himself backwards against the wall. Maathorneferure wasn¡¯t a popular queen. She wasn¡¯t a woman who fit into the ranks of the other two; stood out and simultaneously formed a component that didn¡¯t fit in any other place.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like she has absolutely no idea what to do as a queen. She knows a lot about skin care and even more about recognising quality clothing,¡± the slave continued thoughtfully. ¡°Her biggest problem is simply that she lacks the basics.¡±


    ¡°And that she gets terribly violent if anyone questions her status or pretends she¡¯s not a goddess,¡± the woman at his side added with a sigh. ¡°Some days, I think she¡¯s trying to prove something to herself. She¡¯s tense, and she rarely has a quiet minute.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s under stress?¡±


    ¡°You could say that. She¡¯s restless, almost like we¡¯re going to war tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Maybe she¡¯s homesick?¡±


    ¡°Does homesickness make you nervous?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    Snorting noticeably, the tjati rolled his eyes. Of course Maathorneferure was nervous. She had started a war with him she would lose, and no matter how confident she pretended to be, no one would help her. She might have her eyes and ears everywhere, but he had the better position. When she wasn¡¯t in front of him, it was easier to watch her actions. At least that¡¯s how it felt. In the end, he still didn¡¯t know what he was planning, and that could also be a reason for her nervousness. She didn¡¯t know either.


    With a hasty shake of his head, he tried to get rid of the thoughts. Thinking about the problems with this beast brought him no answers. The only thing he wanted to keep firmly in the back of his mind was that she could be just as human and restless as everyone else. On top, she wasn¡¯t the most popular queen and most were slow to look past her mask.


    That was good for him. But it didn¡¯t get him one step closer to the boy. No one spoke about the strange messenger, who must have caught someone¡¯s eye in his outfit, nor did anyone broach the subject. It was almost as if he was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, although the royal messengers had claimed otherwise. And believing these men was all he could cling to.

 Vague offers -1-

    His legs carried him mindlessly through the corridors, straight back to the messengers, who were still playing their game and praying to the gods in the hope the outcome would come true. Whichever of them hoped for the glorious world beyond, they were prepared to pay the price - if only in a game.


    For a moment, Assou leaned into the frame of the entrance and watched them. Sticks were thrown, figures advanced and sporadic chuckles flitted around the room as one mocked the other¡¯s negative lot. It was peace that had once been part of the palace. Since Maathorneferure had lived within these walls, however, it seemed to have retreated into this room. Completely rejected by the whispering of the corridors.


    Crossing his arms in front of his chest, the tjati¡¯s thoughts remained empty. He didn¡¯t know why his legs had carried him back to this place, and yet he could feel it. If this little messenger, if Maged, had indeed been imaginary, then he had sent no one to Maathorneferure¡¯s homeland. Pharaoh would have him executed if he reported an unknown boy who was nothing more than a delusion, and the messengers would certainly not help him. They loved their silent lives too much for that. So Assou straightened his shoulders and bridged the distance to the table to attract the men¡¯s attention. In fact, all four of them raised their eyes and scrutinised him as if he, too, was nothing more than a ghost they had long since become accustomed to.


    ¡°I have a mission for one of you,¡± Assou began slowly. ¡°I need a messenger who can walk very long distances and has no problem leaving this land for a short while.¡±


    Instantly, a man jumped to his feet. His muscular legs spoke of stamina, while his otherwise unfittingly thin body swayed slightly back and forth. Still, the tjati gave him a nod and grabbed a piece of papyrus from the rack to write a message for Maathorneferure¡¯s parents. The scribbled hieroglyphs were no beauty, but the papyrus eagerly absorbed each one, so he only had to wave his hand briefly before he could bind his message into a small scroll.


    Then he turned to his royal messenger and pressed the few lines into his hands. ¡°Go and take this message to the king of the kingdom ?akmi?, ?attu?ili III. Try to arrive as quickly as possible so they can arrive on time for the festival.¡± He hastily pressed a few gold coins into the messenger¡¯s hand. ¡°Take good care of yourself and keep up your strength. I¡¯m counting on your service.¡±


    The messenger¡¯s chest swelled as he stretched his head and wordlessly emphasised that he was the right man for the job. Barely a moment later, he turned away and hurried off. Nothing held him, no questions lingered, and though Assou wanted to believe in him, he felt the tightness in his stomach. Treacherous unease that kept him trapped in his seat longer than necessary.


    Only when he was sure the messenger must have already bound two guards to him, who would take him out of the city, did Assou begin his retreat. Every step that took him further away from the messengers carried him towards the exit. Away from his study and the whispers he could find in the corridors if he was lucky. The heaviness on his shoulders hadn¡¯t lessened for a moment and it was only in the few seconds that the heat of the land hit him he realised how dry his eyes were. It felt as if he had washed them with sand. Not even repeated blinking could calm the fire of his perception, so he ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath.


    The city floating so peacefully before him, slightly at his feet and yet not far enough below him, gave him an inviting smile he couldn¡¯t resist. This time, if he were to look for a place among merchants and customers, there would be no wheat stall behind which a beautiful woman waited for his excuses. Fatrada was no longer there. She was no longer the loving creature under the sun. Instead, she suffered as a slave in the palace where he lived. She was dying before his eyes.


    Sighing, he sat down on a step. Just for a few breaths, he wanted to let the emptiness win and feel the pressure fall away. He wanted a change, something to lighten his steps and push the sadness far away.


    How had he ever believed Fatrada would fit into this palace?


    Lost in thought, his gaze fixed on his hands. On the fingers that wanted to touch her, to feel her skin and recognise her life as his. The hands that wanted to possess her more than anything because she belonged to him. It had never been different, and yet there was that hint of innocent love. From the very first feeling that had caught up with him, long before his behaviour had taken on the air of obsession.


    But was he really obsessed? Wasn¡¯t love always a game between desire and action?


    He had acted, had tried to find a way to let this love blossom without hurting anyone, and had failed miserably. Thanks only to Maathorneferure. The woman he wanted to kill, even if there was no urge in him. There was something about this Great Royal Queen that tasted strangely hypocritical. The way she had behaved when he cornered her - as if her world was drowning in worry. As if he really was nothing more than a problem she didn¡¯t want and yet had conjured.


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    A soundless laugh escaped his lips. Maathorneferure wasn¡¯t a stupid girl. She knew exactly what she was doing and presumably she also knew how to pretend to be innocent. It couldn¡¯t be different. She wasn¡¯t stupid enough to weave a rope for herself, even if it would have made the circumstances easier.


    He turned his gaze to the city again. The hustle and bustle still beckoned him, tempting him, so he finally stood up and made his way between the goods and offers. It wasn¡¯t long before he reached the first stall and inspected the goods. Rich merchants were buying new wares, nobles were looking at a range of different gemstones, jewellery was being passed around, cloth was being negotiated, food was passed from one stall to the next and the sweet smell of fruit hung in the air. Assou followed the scent until he stopped in front of a vendor.


    Next to the dates and figs were lemons and plump pomegranates, which a female slave, whom Assou only recognised at a second glance, was reaching for. Her black hair shone and when she turned to him, it was a faint smile on brittle lips answering him. Dinem looked out of place. Her skin had lost colour, her eyes had no sparkle, and the lead that was supposed to highlight her was smudged at one corner.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Raising his brows, the tjati studied her closely. He had never seen her so tired. ¡°Shopping is a kitchen task.¡±


    ¡°Maathorneferure wants pomegranates and because she doesn¡¯t trust anyone at the moment, she sent me,¡± Dinem replied flatly. ¡°She¡¯s restless.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard about that. But it won¡¯t ease her restlessness if you collapse under her orders.¡±


    ¡°Do I hear concern, my Vizier?¡± She smirked at his words. ¡°Or is that just a reflex on your part?¡±


    It was probably both. She was the only ally in his abundant chaos.


    ¡°Would it be disappointing if I said it was a mixture?¡± With a sigh, he staggered back before crossing his arms in front of his chest and tilting his head.


    ¡°On the contrary.¡± Dinem¡¯s smile grew more genuine. ¡°It¡¯s more than I expected.¡± Almost casually, she paid for the basket of pomegranates. ¡°Were you looking for me?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Assou¡¯s attention wandered through the crowd, where interested glances repeatedly brushed his figure. ¡°I was looking for something to distract me.¡±


    ¡°Too many questions you can¡¯t answer?¡±


    ¡°You could say that.¡±


    As if she understood him, Dinem nodded. ¡°Can I answer any of them for you, or are they too complex for a slave like me?¡±


    His gaze wandered back to her. The paleness of her skin had faded and the interest that found a stubborn glint in her eyes invited him to try. An offer he couldn¡¯t refuse.


    ¡°Have you ever heard of a messenger named Maged?¡± His shoulders tightened at the memory of how he had been looked at by glittering brown eyes, as if magic had only just arrived in Egypt. ¡°One of the royal messengers told me he showed up once before and made conversation with a slave girl. I thought maybe someone knows something, but no one talks about it. You¡¯re not keeping a secret at the pharaoh¡¯s court, are you?¡±


    Dinem¡¯s brows lifted. Silence sprouted between them for a second, tension the tjati couldn¡¯t shake off but which simply fell away when his counterpart sighed. ¡°If there is a secret to be kept, then I have not been let in on it. Are you sure there was a messenger with that name?¡±


    ¡°At least that¡¯s what I¡¯ve seen.¡±


    Dinem¡¯s lips twisted instantly. Her eyelids drooped, her entire expression changing from curiosity to distaste. It was probably her way of commenting on his imagination, and if it hadn¡¯t been so real in the face of his duties, he might have laughed at it. But the seconds brought neither joy nor amusement. Instead, his arms tightened and his disapproval of her attitude reached her as well.


    ¡°Vizier ... it isn¡¯t as if I doubt your words. But I would also like to think that perhaps you are a little overworked and worrying too much. A messenger everyone claims to have seen and yet no one knows?¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t the only one who reported it. As I said, the royal messengers also know about it,¡± he replied, this time more brashly than intended. It was enough to make Dinem flinch. Nothing he had control over. And yet the apology rolled off his lips as if it were nothing more than a phrase.


    ¡°Sorry, I can¡¯t help you any further.¡± In the end, Dinem discarded the subject and looked for an escape route, which Assou held open for her as he nodded his head and gestured for them to return to the palace together. She hesitantly accepted and followed a little behind him - for the sake of etiquette.


    Still, Assou walked slower to keep her within reach. No one could blame him if it was he who stood next to a slave girl. Another act Dinem accepted without lowering her head. Instead, she gave him a smile, narrow and vague, yet existent.


    ¡°Have you been able to find a way to free Fatrada from the clutches of Maathorneferure?¡± As if out of nowhere, Dinem turned her attention to the second part of the problems that wouldn¡¯t let go of the tjati. Another obstacle for which he had no solution and which made his journey much more difficult.


    ¡°No,¡± he confessed. He could do that in front of her. She was the right person for it. ¡°What can I do to make Fatrada my slave so she can escape Maathorneferure? What does this beast want?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you.¡± Half in thought, his companion put a finger to her chin. ¡°However, I¡¯m spending a lot of time with the Third Great Royal Queen at the moment. If I play it right, I¡¯m sure I can find out what she craves and what you can do to free Fatrada.¡±


    ¡°You would do that?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you I¡¯m on your side? All you have to do is ask me for something and I¡¯ll see what I can do. What you give me in return is quite enough. Have you forgotten already?¡± Her smile became clearer, making her more beautiful than most women who were within reach. ¡°Just your kindness in walking beside a simple slave and showing the people I have some importance to you is good enough for now.¡±


    She was probably the first woman to settle for the smallest things. She didn¡¯t want his gold, nothing of his status. It seemed his mere existence was enough, and even if it was hard to believe, he wanted to trust her words.

 Vague offers -2-

    Sharing the way back to the palace with her made the problems easier ¨C tackling all the hurdles together gave him the security of not being alone on the front line. Dinem brought peace. Support and safety, which he didn¡¯t expect from a woman, but which still cradled him gently in their arms.


    Only before the mighty walls of the palace did they pause, ready to say goodbye to each other, and although he could have uttered a hundred words, it was a kiss on the cheek he gave her. A touch so gentle Dinem placed a hand on her skin with widened eyes to make absolutely sure he had been there. Quick breaths, which they both held in silent unity, before the tjati turned away from her and was the first to disappear behind the rock, held up by strong pillars.


    In those moments, it was easier to take in the surroundings. The palace, where he had been resting for ages, came to the fore as if he had never been in this place before. The smooth staircase that lay behind him and the few low steps inviting him in, which had been installed to make it easier for old people, seemed free of dust and sand. The heavy pillars holding up the entrance had been ornately decorated with images and patterns. The entire palace possessed these pilasters, some of which were displayed to prove the beauty of the building to the masses. The graceful expanse was still recognisable as the Pharaoh¡¯s palace even at the end of the city, and the greenery Assou usually overlooked decorated the facades of the walls in selected places to emphasise that even the greatest heat couldn¡¯t bring down a fruitful tree of the gods.


    As his feet carried him inside, it was the tightness in his chest keeping him alert. The walls were pure, clean, completely unadorned compared to the pillars rising every ten metres and telling little stories in different colours. Red patterns set a mood, brown figures moved if you walked fast enough, green branches told of peace and blue stripes separated the images. The polished stone beneath his soles threatened to reflect him, and the doors, which he usually ignored, were just as magnificent as the pillars. The only room that surpassed all of this was Pharaoh¡¯s Hall, he knew, and yet no matter how hard Assou tried to visualise the room, he only knew of the endless path to the steps leading up to the throne. Everything else had always passed him by.


    He rubbed his face with both hands. For whatever reason Dinem¡¯s presence had caught his attention, it left a sweet aftertaste he wanted to savour. A minor change from the constant same images making his life a little more uniform every day.


    The ornate walls moved past him in slowly, dragging his presence across the walls and clinging to his shadow as if it were part of this narrative. It turned over the images, the shapes, connecting with another shadow that drew the tjati¡¯s attention and detached his gaze from the spectacle of the world behind his thoughts.


    Opposite him, in conventional beauty, wrapped in a tight kalasiris adorned with blue beads around her waist, Maathorneferure waited for something. Her lips curled into a biting smile before she straightened her shoulders and crossed her arms gallantly in front of her chest.


    ¡°I see the old habit has driven you out of the palace.¡± Swiftly, she took a step aside. ¡°Shall we walk a little, Vizier?¡±


    Whatever was going through her head, it couldn¡¯t be good. The certainty she was up to something made his every breath uneasy, and though he would have preferred to refuse, all he could manage was a disapproving snort of agreement. Then he fell into line beside the Third Great Royal Queen.


    Her barely audible footsteps glided over the walls like unspoken secrets. Her gait, flowing like water, didn¡¯t match his simple, hasty movements. Walking side by side had the strange air of unequal enemies trying to reach an agreement.


    ¡°What do you want from me?¡± Without looking at her, Assou turned to the only question between them.


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d give you a token of my kindness by making you an offer.¡± Her high, velvety voice held no mockery for him this time.


    ¡°And that offer would be?¡±


    ¡°I am willing to give you your beloved Fatrada, should you resign your position as Vizier in return.¡±


    This time his gaze darted in her direction, plagued by a thousand words hanging heavy as stone on his tongue. Instead, only another snort escaped him before he stopped and jutted his chin. ¡°Is that all?¡±


    ¡°Did you expect more?¡± Brows raised, she turned to face him. The certainty in her expression already painted a picture of victory. A lost game that he seized by the scruff of the neck.


    ¡°What do you think will happen if I give up my position? Who should advise our pharaoh, the ruler of this country, if not me?¡±


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    ¡°Me, of course.¡± As if it were self-evident, Maathorneferure tilted her head, her smile fixed in place. ¡°After all, I am as much a goddess as Ramesses was called by the gods. I know what is important for this country.¡±


    ¡°A war at best,¡± Assou spat back at her. The tightness in his chest and the heat on his skin made it hard not to turn around and push Maathorneferure¡¯s sick fantasy away. But she had to wake up. She had to learn to understand, in whatever way she could. ¡°You don¡¯t know how to keep the peace and how Egypt stands in the face of the surrounding countries.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t need peace when we can have everything,¡± she replied calmly. ¡°You¡¯re making the country sluggish. If Ramesses were set on the right path, Egypt would soon own every land there is to own. And the people would worship us as gods of this time. All of them.¡±


    ¡°You are mad, woman.¡± Assou¡¯s statement collapsed in on itself, biting through the atmosphere no less venomously than Maathorneferure¡¯s very existence. ¡°I will certainly not resign my post for a madness that has no future for our country.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a problem, obviously.¡± As if his words had no relevance whatsoever, she squared her shoulders and strolled a few steps back, straight towards him. It wasn¡¯t hard to see that she still had something up her sleeve. Power she had been accumulating for this moment.


    ¡°But I can tell you that if you really refuse my generous offer, I will be forced to put Fatrada in her place.¡± Thoughtfully, the Great Queen put a finger to her chin. ¡°She is an obedient slave with fire in her eyes. Fire that doesn¡¯t yet know how cruel life can be, and I really have no problem reminding her which position is hers.¡± The smile on her lips widened. ¡°I¡¯ll break her if that¡¯s what you crave.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that simplistic?¡± Instead of being rattled, Assou took a breath. Fatrada wasn¡¯t a woman to be broken easily, he wanted to hold on to that, and he had the better position in this war. ¡°You realise I am the Pharaoh¡¯s vizier, don¡¯t you? You certainly haven¡¯t forgotten that during your long period of reflection.¡±


    ¡°What are you getting at?¡±


    ¡°That it¡¯s no problem for me to go to Ramesses and convince him to treat the slaves better because some of them are outstanding. The best of them could be made assistants ... or simply slaves with special freedoms, and it would be my job to decide who gets what.¡± The tjati shrugged briefly. ¡°I could take away any slaves you play with.¡±


    The corners of her mouth twisted. He had nothing on her, and yet she was making no progress with her plans. It was triumph that Assou could taste and yet it wasn¡¯t bold enough. What he was left with was a sigh of Maathorneferure.


    ¡°If you think this decision is the better one, fine.¡± With a dismissive wave of her hand, she turned away from him. ¡°Try to convince Ramesses or wait until after the feast.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to give her back to me willingly all at once?¡±


    ¡°Certainly. As soon as I¡¯ve found a worthy replacement. Or you¡¯ll have even more work on your hands.¡± This time it was she who shrugged her shoulders.


    More work wasn¡¯t something he could take on. Treating the slaves better would upset the balance in the palace. Most of them were prizes and gifts to pay off debts. Others had been overpowered and enslaved. Giving them the option of half freedom would have driven them no less into madness.


    However, she surrendered too quickly. The restlessness in her bones always led her to absurd ideas and that she would suddenly let go made no sense. There had to be more to her offer. Something that seemed more realistic than simply letting go of the only pressure she had. Trusting her was fatal. But unlike Maathorneferure, he wasn¡¯t without help.


    ¡°All right. You give Fatrada to me after the feast and stay out of her life.¡± It was all he could ask, and with Dinem at his side, he at least had a watchful eye on the other side.


    ¡°I can live with that.¡± Maathorneferure¡¯s shallow smile brought new tension rolling insidiously over Assou, yet it didn¡¯t reach him. Instead, he could only watch as she turned away and followed her own path, far away from him, with her thoughts in realms he could never judge.


    Still, it was victory. Being able to relieve Maathorneferure of Fatrada was one of those perfect opportunities to prove which of them was smarter. It made it easier to turn and run. Keeping up with the planning for the feast suddenly became a task that could be completed with joy ¨C all because he knew Fatrada would enjoy this feast as much as he did. Perhaps he would even help Maathorneferure out and give her a new slave. One who was better suited to this role.


    His legs carried him back to his workroom. The papyrus was piled up on his table, unwritten, and the rush next to it had dried out. Still, he dipped it in the reddish, stiff colour and scribbled down a few orders. The feast had to be big. It had to satisfy Ramesses and please Meritamen. No stress, but plenty of pleasure. Delights that especially appealed to the Great Queen and allowed her to indulge in beautiful thoughts until the day her child would see the light of day.


    The crooked hieroglyphs gave the wildest instructions to the most diverse people. New statues were needed, new pictures, works that surpassed the old. The food had to be prepared, the wine stored, and the dishes selected. Every single decision was firmly in his hands. From the food to the few merchants who would come to the palace to dress Pharaoh and Meritamen. Each piece of papyrus was given a new order, always addressed to someone else. His fingers stripped the precious material, gave it a task, and moved it aside. Often enough so he eventually bumped his fingertips against the stone he always left behind.


    Assou¡¯s attention shifted instantly, clinging to the stone slab he still kept and which silently judged him even in those moments. But this time he wasn¡¯t in a position that lay forlornly before him. Things had improved. He had gained the upper hand. There was no game he had to win any longer. It was over.


    And this time, he took the stone slab and smashed it onto the ground with a swing. The question shattered. Pieces formed. Whoever had left this poor joke for him, the power was gone.

 Her far away home -1-

    The days chased past him as if the gods themselves could hardly wait for the feast in Meritamen¡¯s honour. The longing for some joy, atmosphere and music played around the cracks of society and yet Assou found no happiness between positive preparations and gallant statues.


    He never saw Fatrada once in all this. All that reached his ears were Dinem¡¯s reports. Extensive news that hung on her lips and which he accepted each time with grateful kisses. She wasn¡¯t greedy and yet there was this expectant attitude she always displayed in a strangely elevated light. But Dinem wasn¡¯t his problem, she was a help, and knowing what was happening between Fatrada and Maathorneferure was his only weapon.


    With a sigh, the tjati leaned back on his seat cushion. The days had been smoother than anything he could have imagined in his dreams. Dinem was busy running errands. He rarely saw Maathorneferure in the corridors, and the fact he didn¡¯t have a woman¡¯s stress on his leg made it easier to breathe. He didn¡¯t have to think up plans against the Third Great Queen ¨C not least because she was becoming more and more withdrawn and his anger had subsided ¨C and he didn¡¯t have Dinem at his side every time he went to the bathroom. Peace nuzzled against him gently, just as Amenti¡¯s fur had once done. The cat he hadn¡¯t seen for days, either.


    Half in thought, Assou picked himself up. The scrolls were sorted by now and although a few of them still rested on his desk, the order was clearly visible. His legs carried him a few circles round the room, fearful to relax his stiff muscles. Simultaneously, he heard footsteps outside his room, and curiosity won over the silence of his thoughts. Cautiously, he opened his door a crack and looked down the corridor. A few slaves followed the path up to the royal chambers, whispers on their lips.


    ¡°I wonder what the Third Great Royal Queen wants from us.¡±


    ¡°I hope Queen Meritamen can manage without us ... in her delightful state.¡±


    Assou listened to every word, leaning his upper body against the door and resting one hand on the wall. The tightness in his stomach made every sound the slaves produced stifling, and he cursed the peace he had been enjoying.


    Whatever Maathorneferure was planning, it meant no good if she took almost all of Meritamen¡¯s slaves in return ¨C from the woman whose kindness was so great she would give it all to another if necessary. It was a dangerous game, and he didn¡¯t know whether it was born of boredom or jealousy.


    The slight shake of his head that came over him made him close the door. In the end, the chaos between the women wasn¡¯t his job and as long as Maathorneferure wouldn¡¯t raise a hand against him or Fatrada, there was no reason to interfere. It wasn¡¯t his business to keep the peace between the royal wives.


    Straightening his shoulders, the tjati shook off the circumstances and turned his attention to his tasks, leaving the room at a quick pace and covering the distance to the front of the palace. The faraway noise of the merchants and customers was louder than usual, and the hustle and bustle was no less preparing for the coming festival than he was. His eyes travelled over the flat roofs and drew him into the crowd, which was so confused in its activity that no one noticed him. In these breaths, he was no longer the vizier. Here he was just a normal man in a festive mood.


    Soon Fatrada would be his. Maathorneferure would have one less weapon at her disposal, and all because she didn¡¯t know how to act out of unstable opinions. Her weakness, which she could so easily have made up for, was brought to light through stupidity. That was better for him, certainly. But it made the moments when he had followed her will seem pathetic.


    His destination drew ever closer and his thoughts didn¡¯t get a chance to settle before he strolled through the entrance of a simple house. What greeted him was stone, moulded and shaped as if nature had created it that way.


    ¡°Vizier!¡± The exuberant greeting of a finely dressed man snapped him out of his observation. ¡°You¡¯ve come to inspect the statues?¡±


    ¡°I did.¡± He nodded to the man with a smile. It had been he who had accepted the commission for Meritamen¡¯s portrait and although he was a rather unknown artist on the market, he knew his craft.


    His hasty steps and the waving of his arms signalled the tjati to follow. A few metres into the building, where Meritamen was waiting for him, smiling majestically. Of course, she was only made of stone. But her life seemed to rest in this stone and the flaws she usually possessed were missing. Her pointed nose was rounder than usual and her face was perfectly symmetrical. The upright posture spoke of grace and the slender fingers had settled on the fabric of her lap.


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    This statue combined every bit of royal blood found in the palace and brought it together as Meritamen. And if she already looked so marvellous, the only question remaining was whether Maathorneferure could also be captured in stone. The divine part she held on to when her full lips smiled and her delicate, oval face looked flawlessly down on others.


    ¡°Is the statue to your satisfaction, Vizier?¡±


    Silence still reigned in the room, had settled so leisurely between them that the tremor of his recipient¡¯s voice breathed a brief wince over Assou¡¯s shoulders. Brows raised, he glanced at the man before catching himself.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s excellent. One of the finest the palace has received in a long time.¡± He waved it off. ¡°I¡¯m sure our Pharaoh Ramesses II will be just as delighted with it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m honoured!¡± Folding his hands, the man bowed to him and for the first time in a while, the fluttering feeling of expectation settled in the vizier.


    The circumstances blossomed into a full fruit that could be clasped in the hands with pleasure and ease. The country was in a celebratory mood, its preparations were progressing, and in three days, the feast would be upon them. In three short days, Fatrada would be at his side, rescued from the clutches of Maathorneferure. Ramesses would express his satisfaction and everything would take its usual pleasant course, just as it had before Maathorneferure had joined him. The newly employed slaves were working excellently and had withstood the demands since the increase in food supplies. The gods had finally sided with him.


    All was well.


    And Assou couldn¡¯t help but breathe a sigh of relief and savour the thought. It brought enough lightness with it he could easily say goodbye to the sculptor and find his way back into the crowd, whose lively activities also reached him. The constant rush of people pushed him forward, and this time he let himself be carried away. He came out at a food stall.


    The sweet smell of wine and the spiciness of grilled food held him, luring him to a stone bench where he dropped. The blue sky above him invited to dream, and not even when he placed his order with an unremarkable figure did his senses return to the tense world of a vizier. For an eternity, he was part of the common people. The wine served was exceptionally sweet on his tongue; the meal served shortly afterwards flavoured every bite with a hint of calm.


    As he replayed the last few weeks in his mind¡¯s eye, he realised that all the things that had caught up with him had been nothing special. Only the combination of work and extraordinary stress had consumed him. They had smiled at him and kicked him in the dirt, as if they had known he was living almost too peacefully as a vizier. It had been a trial. One he had survived. More badly than well, but they hadn¡¯t brought him down.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe it¡¯s been stressful on the soul lately, huh?¡±


    The sudden voice, familiar and yet only a vague guess, snapped his fond thoughts in two. His perception found its way back between the crowd he was sitting in, and his eyes fixed all at once on a boy he had believed to be imaginary.


    But Maged was real.


    He had sat down on the opposite seat, his head in his hands, a smile on his thin lips. The jewellery on his thin body shimmered in the sunlight and, although he must have travelled an incredible distance, there was no exhaustion on him.


    When Assou opened his mouth, ready to ask a question, it was the messenger¡¯s languid hand gesture that made him stop.


    ¡°I was where Maathorneferure knows her home and sent the invitation to her parents.¡± The smile on Maged¡¯s features remained wayward. ¡°I had her parents brought to appropriate rooms on your orders. The Third Great Royal Queen knows nothing of all this, and the slaves will certainly remain silent.¡±


    His speechlessness ran thick between them as Maged snacked on a grape he was carrying in a pouch. He had been faster than anything the tjati had ever witnessed, and yet he wasn¡¯t just a figment of his imagination, mocking him to the skies. There was no doubt in the vizier¡¯s mind that if he went back, Maathorneferure¡¯s parents really were resting in well-chosen rooms.


    Immediately, he jumped to his feet. It was his job to receive guests from another country and show them hospitality as long as the pharaoh had no room in his inexistent work for it. The return of this boy gave him new tasks.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to say anything?¡± Another grape disappeared between Maged¡¯s lips.


    ¡°I ... can only note you were surprisingly quick. How did you do that?¡± Without sitting down, Assou tried to shed light on the darkness of his senses.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say any of it was surprisingly or peculiarly quick,¡± Maged replied. ¡°I was just an errand boy on a simple mission.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Do you want to put down roots here, or better run to Ramesses so he doesn¡¯t cut off your head for your half-hearted planning without warning?¡±


    The hiss on Assou¡¯s lips was barely audible and yet it made the messenger at the table smile. A wordless battle he couldn¡¯t win. That was the only reason Assou turned away and left the scene behind. His legs chased hastily through the people, some sections he ran, only to gasp for breath a little later. The heat made him cough up dust and the unaccustomed exertion wore away at his bones, making them rock-heavy and immobile.


    Until he reached the palace, his pace remained an exchange between groaning and running before he found his footing between the pillars of the entrance, completely covered in sweat. The guards gave him vague looks and the shadows inside the palace promised no cooling. Still, he dragged himself in long strides straight to the throne room, where Ramesses lingered alone, staring holes in the air. None of his citizens had come to complain. The atmosphere was languid.

 Her far away home -2-

    ¡°My Pharaoh!¡± Assou had barely dragged himself to the bottom of the few steps up to the throne when he tore Ramesses from the depths of his thoughts. ¡°I bear ¡­ notice.¡±


    The deep bow came a little too late, but Ramesses overlooked the flaws in etiquette as well as the condition of his vizier. ¡°Is it about the slaves?¡±


    ¡°No, about the feast.¡±


    Relieved exhalation rolled over Assou as Ramesses sat up straighter and seemed willing to listen. ¡°Speak.¡±


    ¡°The preparations are going as planned and will soon be completed. Furthermore, the honourable parents of the Third Great Royal Queen Maathorneferure have recently arrived. They made the journey in no time.¡±


    ¡°They have already arrived?¡± The same astonishment that had overcome the tjati settled on the pharaoh¡¯s shoulders.


    ¡°They have,¡± he confirmed. ¡°I was surprised too, but I gave them a room and had the best preparations made.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to know. Allow them to rest and then greet them on my behalf. I will turn to them later this day.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, my Pharaoh.¡± Once again, Assou bowed deeply to his king before turning on his heel and hurrying out of the room.


    His senses carried him straight to his study, the door of which he tore open and slammed shut behind him so quickly that the silence inside overwhelmed him for a moment. Closing his eyes for a breath, he savoured the quiet between the fronts and let the feeling of tension slip over him. It was better than sinking into the questions behind it. Easier, because he still couldn¡¯t place Maged and didn¡¯t know how to deal with this boy. He was a mystery as unsolvable as the stone slab he hadn¡¯t been able to answer.


    ¡°Are you planning to stay there, or do you want to have a conversation with me?¡±


    Assou¡¯s eyelids snapped open instantly and his gaze remained fixed on the boy he had left behind. Maged had stretched out his legs and sat down in front of the table, behind which Assou was fulfilling his duties. The restrained smile on his face mocked him, and no matter how the tjati tried to look at the situation, it went right over his head. He spared himself the question of how Maged had found his way into the study so quickly. Still, Assou stared at him a little longer before he finally moved away from the door and leisurely pushed himself behind the table. His eyes always on the boy, he tried to form a picture, to find a gap so as not to look like a poor idiot. But his counterpart was impossible to judge.


    ¡°What did you find out?¡± Instead of taking on an impossible task, Assou tried to cling to facts. Information he needed and wanted to use. They were the only weapon he could wield against Maathorneferure if anything changed for the worse after the festival.


    ¡°Oh, a lot!¡± Maged replied. This time he pushed himself into a different position with a flourish, his legs bent cross-legged. ¡°Mind you, you¡¯ll find most of this out for yourself soon enough, so I¡¯ll save the explanation.¡± He put a finger to his lips as he lowered his eyelids and grinned. ¡°Aside from that, Sau?kanu was a very popular princess in her country.¡±


    ¡°In what way?¡±


    ¡°Well, she was always good to her slaves and even had a favourite among them who always did her hair. It seems to have been a slave who was the only one to realise the life of a princess isn¡¯t always nice.¡± Maged shrugged his shoulders. ¡°Everyone there described her as extremely kind. A ray of sunshine, gently kissed by Ra and always ready to help when someone was in trouble. The same words were given to me in the palace.¡±


    Assou¡¯s brows had drawn together somewhere in the middle of the report, and the disbelief inside made it hard to find the right words. To think of Maathorneferure being anything other than a beast was hard to imagine. There was nothing about her to make her seem kind or generous ¨C not even a hint of friendliness.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure some of them weren¡¯t just lying?¡±


    ¡°Very sure,¡± replied the messenger. ¡°Nobody has said a single bad word about her. Almost as if they were talking about a completely different person.¡±


    ¡°And what is it you¡¯re not telling me?¡± Crossing his arms in front of his chest, the tjati tried to make a serious expression. Maged had said it himself. There were things he would find out. Things that would shed some light on the circumstances thrown lovelessly at his feet. But the boy remained silent. Not a single word grew between them and no matter how long he stared at his counterpart, it didn¡¯t get any easier.


    ¡°Is that all?¡± Finally, the vizier gave up.


    ¡°All I can say is you¡¯ll like it. You¡¯re definitely guaranteed entertainment in this realm.¡± Maged shrugged again before pulling himself up and stretching. His thin body barely allowed a rib to stand out. ¡°You¡¯ll find out when the feast has reached its climax at the latest. Until then, I¡¯ll leave it up to you to decide whether you can find out before then or whether you¡¯re just dying of suspense. For my part, I¡¯ll be watching the whole thing from afar.¡±


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    With a dismissive wave of his hand, Maged turned away, and though he had closed the conversation just like that, Assou wasn¡¯t ready to end the possibilities between them like that. He still didn¡¯t have all the answers he wanted, and the little pieces thrown at him weren¡¯t enough for his plans and safety.


    So he, too, jumped up to circle the table and grab Maged by the arm before he could reach the door. ¡°Wait!¡±


    ¡°Hands off, maggot.¡± The words rang out to the vizier even before the boy¡¯s dark, misty gaze reached him. The pressure between them settled heavily on his shoulders and, although he was sure he didn¡¯t want to let go, his fingers detached from the messenger¡¯s arm. The rigidity engulfing his body made every thought clear and yet unable to come out of him. He could only watch as Maged disappeared through the door and the silence became a part of the room once again.


    Gradually, the pressure released from his surroundings, freeing his muscles and stripping the motionlessness from his body. His hand, which had been raised, fell powerlessly and when his legs gave way, it was the floor that greeted him with a muffled thud. He fell to his knees, took a deep breath, and cleared his throat a few times, hoping his voice would come back. But the quiet remained.


    The muffled whistling sound, which soon after burst into his ears, lasted an eternity. It clung to his senses, to his body and yet at some point, during his motionless breaths, it released him. Only then did Assou pull himself together and shuffle back to his table. His unsteady steps carried him to his seat.


    In the end, he hadn¡¯t been able to ask any of the important questions. He didn¡¯t know who this boy was, nor could he say where he came from. All he had left was the certainty that Maged had little in common with a normal person. This boy had made him freeze. His behaviour, his way of defending himself, was anything but the conventional methods occasionally seen among the people.


    And suddenly it became easier to believe he had been sent by the gods. Once again, Assou ran his hands over his face and dared to take a breath. There was nothing he could do and even less he could change facing the mysterious messenger. The only thing left for him to do was to fulfil his duties and find out what was being kept from him.


    So the tjati pulled to his feet, his eyes fixed on the door that would throw him back into the crowd. A mass that wasn¡¯t there and that he nonetheless believed would pounce on him as soon as he left his room. He wiped his hands on his shendyt several times. The dampness had settled in his pores and, although he tried not to think about it, it took much longer before he slowly pushed his way through the door into the corridor and breathed silence.


    The first thing he had to do was greet Maathorneferure¡¯s parents and wish them a pleasant stay in the name of Ramesses. A conventional step that held no challenge, but still fuelled the tension in his body. His stiff shoulders were bound by curiosity, with a slight tremor wanting to push him forward because the answers were right in front of him. If he came face to face with Maathorneferure¡¯s parents, he was sure to find out something.


    Every step he took was more energetic than the one before. His legs carried him forward, right to the guest rooms, which were otherwise unused. They lay close to the queens¡¯ chambers. That meant he would encounter Maathorneferure in a worst-case scenario. Despite this, he made his way through the corridors and didn¡¯t stop when two slaves stumbled towards him and gave him a look that combined warning and pity. They were probably being driven through the palace to carry out Maathorneferure¡¯s wild will or to escape her nasty mood. Facing her, anything was possible.


    The inviting doors of the guest rooms, surrounded by heavy pilasters, invited a quick look inside. An offer Assou turned down in order to aim for the only closed passageway. His knuckles knocked against the heavy wood, whose ornate decoration of colour and carved tendrils seemed like a gateway to another world. A slave opened it, intent on keeping her head bowed as she turned round and announced the ¡°Vizier of the palace and the right hand of Ramesses¡±.


    Only after her introduction did he enter. With slow, deliberate movements, he made his way in and immediately his eyes were fixed on the old head of Hattu?ili III and his wife. He had heard a lot about them. They weren¡¯t of high standing for nothing, capable of ruling an empire and making peace with a marriage.


    Hattu?ili III and his wife Pudu?epa had dressed in expensive fabrics he could hardly believe were only made of linen. Besides an animal skin warming the ruler¡¯s shoulders, it was heavy silver adorning his wife¡¯s neck ¨C a woman who possessed little of Maathorneferure¡¯s beauty. Compared to the Great Royal Queen, Pudu?epa was a small woman with shoulder-length brown hair and dark eyes. Her skin was lighter than that of the Egyptians, but her smile seemed crooked and her eyes sunken. What¡¯s more, she was so petite she seemed more fragile than dried leaves next to her husband. She was an unsuitable counterpart to Hattu?ili, whose firm body showed obvious muscles ¨C but even he was nowhere near the size of Maathorneferure. His forehead shone with sweat and the black hair covering half his face and head shook under the heat of the land.


    ¡°Vizier, it is good to see a confidant of Ramesses.¡± Hattu?ili patted his chest briefly. ¡°And I must confess, I am delighted you have invited us to this feast to please our daughter. I can see she is in excellent hands here. Your messenger has told us much about this land.¡±


    ¡°I am honoured you have been well entertained. Ramesses is very concerned that Maathorneferure hasn¡¯t yet been blessed by the gods.¡± Once again, Assou¡¯s eyes travelled over the two people present. ¡°But the palace is sure a piece of home will bring calm to her soul.¡±


    Her parents¡¯ approval circled the room in cheerful recognition. They were both completely different from Maathorneferure. Not even her father, a man who had endured battles like no other, held the same temperament in his eyes as she did. There wasn¡¯t a single resemblance between them, and though Assou would have loved to deny it, it truly seemed as if Sau?kanu had been blessed by the gods. She, of all people.

 Between chance and duty -1-

    The wine, which was poured at regular intervals by the slaves, relaxed Hattu?ili¡¯s mood so excessively that his wife shamefully asked him for a break. A window of opportunity within hours, which Assou gratefully accepted. The greeting had taken too long and the wild chatter of the foreign king made it increasingly difficult to endure the boredom. He therefore accepted the chance to escape faster than would have been polite, but the pulling in his legs tugged at his nerves and every bone in his body yearned for movement.


    As he left the guest room behind, the stiff feeling in his legs drove him swaying forwards ¨C towards the bath, at the edge of which Maathorneferure was waiting. With her eyes fixed on the water, she didn¡¯t notice him in the first few breaths they shared. But his muscles were too weak to hold him and when he buckled away, the spell was broken.


    He sucked in a sharp breath as he braced himself with one hand against the nearest wall and felt Maathorneferure¡¯s sharp gaze on his skin the very next moment.


    ¡°This was your idea, wasn¡¯t it?¡± The hissing of her words reached his ears. Her question came out of nowhere.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Raising his brows, the tjati tried to make sense of her, only to realise he couldn¡¯t find follow. The strange emptiness in his head cleared only sluggishly.


    ¡°The people you invited,¡± she snarled back. ¡°The ones who are supposed to please me.¡±


    ¡°You mean your parents?¡±


    Her answer was an icy silence lurking between them until Assou cleared his throat. ¡°Yes, that was my idea. A suggestion to increase your fertility, which Ramesses happily accepted.¡± He shook one of his legs. ¡°You know the importance of children, I hope, and that it is your duty to produce an heir who will one day protect this kingdom.¡±


    She hadn¡¯t been here long. There could be many reasons for her not having a child yet. But none of them could prevail. A Great Royal Queen had to fulfil her task as quickly as possible. That alone honoured her status, gave her security and protection within the palace. And although he waited for Maathorneferure to utter her venomous words to spoil his day, she remained silent. All she gave was a heavy sigh, as if she didn¡¯t want to be in this place; as if her task was nothing more than a burden she didn¡¯t want to carry. Then she turned away, pretended Assou wasn¡¯t even there and walked away with such heavy steps it remained impossible to ignore her.


    No matter how he looked at it, her behaviour was unusual. The poison of her words was missing, her vigour and arrogance had collapsed and the emptiness in her gaze held a part of death ¨C banished by guardians like Cherti. The woman who killed Nagib, threatened the tjati and locked Fatrada in the palace was missing. Instead, she was a shadow of herself. An apparition you could walk through had she been a little more detached. Presumably the fact she wasn¡¯t carrying a child actually struck a chord with him. Not that it was his problem. Not receiving a child from Maathorneferure was considered a blessing Assou wanted to cherish. Still, he watched her longer than necessary.


    The sudden change in her character seemed to unhinge the world of the palace, the time he usually cursed. It left him with a tightness in his stomach and sweat on his hands, which he dried on the shendyt.


    Only when the accumulated nausea subsided did the tjati move and follow the corridors to his study, where he breathed in once more at the door. Maathorneferure was no longer the worst evil in the palace, thinking of Maged, whose very existence he couldn¡¯t comprehend. The ornate murals poured down on him like cold water at the mere thought of this messenger. There was still too much he couldn¡¯t sort out. The only thing that kept him in check was his urge to see Fatrada. As if the spell had been lifted from him, she was less and less in his mind. Her safety was a priority, a part of him yearned to possess her, but the rest had converted back to the first days when the longing had been greatest. Days when her face had been enough without turning his whole life upside down.


    Sighing, Assou bowed his head. Many things seemed to be in constant flux, and his innermost being was no exception. So he opened the door to his room, ready to embrace the silence and forget the rest. However, it was Dinem who greeted him with a gentle smile. Her gallant attitude didn¡¯t even change when the door slammed shut behind him. She sat in front of his table, her hands folded in her lap, slightly tilted so she could turn her head far enough to look at him.


    ¡°Vizier, I see you have returned.¡± Her voice settled like velvet on his senses. She enticed him, accompanying him to behind his table, where he sat down stiffly. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you.¡±


    ¡°Any news?¡± He leaned on the wood. ¡°How is Fatrada?¡±


    ¡°Excellent.¡± Dinem couldn¡¯t be controlled. Without hesitation, she pushed herself to her feet. Her sauntering steps circled the table until she sat down next to him. ¡°Maathorneferure doesn¡¯t give a damn about her, which is why she lives in constant unconcern. That¡¯s better than being noticed by the Third Great Royal Queen, Vizier.¡±


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    That was it. It lulled Fatrada to safety, gently enough that he didn¡¯t have to worry about what would happen next. The feast was almost upon them, and Maathorneferure¡¯s world was falling apart.


    Dinem¡¯s fingertips brought him back to the conversation. They danced over his leg, running along the thin fabric of the shendyt, caressing his skin that peeked out from under his skirt just above his knees. Her eyes were glued to him. He could feel it, and although heat lurked in every corner of the room, it was Dinem who stood out clearly.


    ¡°I think you can get back to your duties now.¡± He knew he wasn¡¯t going to get off easy. Not if Dinem had any ideas of his own, and not even then, considering he had promised affection in return for her services.


    ¡°You want to send me away?¡± The heaviness in her voice pulled him down, somewhere in the depths where she waited for him with open arms. Hopeful and yet eager enough that running away seemed impossible.


    The seconds were inappropriate for shared pleasure. The feast demanded his attention. He wanted to be happy to have Fatrada back, and the messenger was still an unsolved mystery. But Dinem¡¯s scent carried him away. The soft, warm note of her skin, caught somewhere between the scent of flowers and milk, led his senses off. Far from his imagination and away from anything that looked like a shore of salvation.


    ¡°Of course not. I¡¯m just worried that I won¡¯t be able to do my job if I don¡¯t make the most of every second.¡± Another one of those half-true lies Assou told himself, and yet couldn¡¯t control. It simply tumbled over his tongue and presented itself to Dinem in a shy guise. But she wasn¡¯t interested in excuses and even less in his work when she was claiming a reward. Her hand moved up his thigh, tugging the shendyt upward, not stopping even as she grazed his dick, and the strange coldness of her hand travelled through his loins.


    If he wanted to get rid of her to clear his head, then he had to surrender. He had to obey, play along, do her bidding, and forget that his preparations were still not complete.


    Her presence moved further into the foreground as she swung herself onto his lap. For a moment, she looked down at him from close up, letting her black hair frame her soft face like a picture. And if he looked at her long enough, Dinem possessed charm. A breath of peace that he could snuggle up to in the hope no one would disturb. His hands ran over rough fabric, gliding along curves that captivated him. Her wide hips invited him to linger longer on them, and yet there was the slender thought of feeling her soft skin under his hands.


    Dinem didn¡¯t bother to take off her kalasiris. Instead, her hands ran over his face as she breathed a kiss on his forehead. A stranger¡¯s light touch, a bit of affection warm against his cheeks, made the scent of her body more present. His fingers slid down to the hem of the dress. The fabric slipped up under his mere touch and he assisted as he slid it over her hips ¨C exposing her naked middle, which rubbed lightly against his shendyt. With swift movements, he detached himself from Dinem for a moment and loosened the shendyt, moving the fabric aside to take his penis in his hand and massage the hot skin in firm strokes. Tingling sensations spread through his loins and even if he would have liked to claim it was for Dinem¡¯s sake, it was ultimately only his own stimulation that got the blood pumping.


    The pleasure he wanted to feel was missing and although he seemed able to rely on his dick, he knew it wouldn¡¯t last long. Despite everything, sex with her was nothing more than a job.


    Without further ado, he used his half-stiff penis and ran it once along Dinem¡¯s pubis. Unlike him, she was looking forward to the game. Her moisture enveloped his skin, making the connection between them slippery, if not more arousing. Still, he penetrated on the second try, grabbing Dinem by the hips and pulling her firmly onto his lap. Her pleasurable sigh chased a shiver down his spine, clinging to his mind and smiling at him somewhere in the background. Slow movements swayed them both, letting Dinem¡¯s hips slide snake-like over his lap. The heat inside of her, taking him in tightly, wrapped around him, not letting up even when she changed tactics and lifted her pelvis. She lingered motionless, eyes closed, as if she was savouring the halfway point between them. She was consuming time he didn¡¯t want to sacrifice.


    His hands disengaged from her hips, bracing himself on the floor instead, giving him support as he met her with his hips. He bridged the distance, thrusting firmly into her, letting himself fall back and yet coming towards her again and again. Like an eternal beat he couldn¡¯t escape, turning the friction inside her into a strange mixture of pleasure and boredom.


    Her moans grew louder with each encounter, filling his ears with melody. But her hold weakened. The strength in her legs sagged, propelling Dinem from her position straight back into his lap. She pressed him to the floor, her weight robbing him of the freedom to set the pace, and yet she maintained his rhythm. Her hips lowered and skin slapped together. A sound that travelled across the walls.


    Her eyes half-opened, ready to look at him and reveal a lustre through the thick lashes that Assou lacked. The dark gaze settling on him, lust guiding her hands. Excitement, he felt like a faint shock in his loins, as if the blood would make his will stronger; as if it would actually do something to perceive the pleasure of another.


    In fact, it made the tension in his loins heavier, chasing a brief jolt of pleasure through him he couldn¡¯t grasp. A moment he couldn¡¯t even indulge in when Dinem rose from him, spurting his white liquid against her pubis. Not much, just enough to be noticeable, and yet a sign that the orgasm overcoming him had barely been noticeable. The effort was limited. There was no satisfaction and no matter how he looked at it, everything in him wanted to withdraw from Dinem. In those breaths, her presence was uncomfortable.


    Luckily for him, she stood up, a thin smile on her lips. In her world, she had won. She tugged the kalasiris into place as if nothing had ever happened ¨C at least nothing more than a stopover that had no meaning and yet ripped the world apart at the seams.

 Between chance and duty -2-

    Assou looked after her, watching as her hips moved sinuously out of his study, leaving him wordlessly behind. She had left him only a smile, combined with blissful satisfaction, which he didn¡¯t want to feel and yet couldn¡¯t suppress. She was too powerful for that, and Fatrada was too far away.


    Sighing, Assou put his head back and closed his eyes. The cosy blackness behind his eyelids brought calm, peace in which he could relax. All the tasks that still lay ahead of him faded away, becoming meaningless for a moment. The calm only broke when he felt soft fur on his legs. Familiar warmth that cradled him in safety for a breath. Only then did he open his eyes to look at the small figure at his side.


    Amenti¡¯s body was pressed tightly against his skin. Her petite figure, just sitting there staring at him, seemed fragile ¨C as if he only had to blow to see her crumble like sand.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you.¡± He really was. The last few days had held no company for him, and compared to Dinem, Amenti came to hear him out. She listened to him whenever he had something to say. No matter how stupid it sounded. ¡°Have you enjoyed the last few days?¡±


    Her mewl was so soft, Assou only recognised it as a breath. Her eyelids closed, her small head lowered. Understanding sprouted between them.


    ¡°So no... We should both sit back and let the day pass, right?¡± All the paperwork and calculations that haunted him and that he usually pushed to the back of his mind had overwhelmed him. It wasn¡¯t physically hard work, but his head swayed so much in some hours he could no longer walk in a straight line.


    Half in thought, Assou turned to Amenti. The words that flitted across his lips barely reached his ears and all he really knew was that he was telling her about those days. Of the endless papers and the rigidity that had overtaken his legs. Of all the boring aspects he couldn¡¯t escape and yet, which were an integral part of his days. Every time anew. Yet the memories in his head remained tangled. It was impossible to put each day in a clear order because everything had been consistent and yet completely different. A constant routine, with tiny changes he¡¯d added to make the days more vivid. All just to forget them in the end.


    He shook his head, barely noticing. There was no need to think about all these things and dwell on the past any longer than necessary. Instead, things had to fall into place in the present. The fact he couldn¡¯t make grand plans had always been part of who he was.


    This time, he reached out for Amenti. Her soft fur greeted him in a familiar warmth and the density in his head, which made thinking difficult, cleared. His thoughts pushed aside everything unimportant, placed his hands on a chest full of unimportant things in the background, and closed the lid. What remained were the tasks of the present. The reality was he had to check a few last things before it could come to an end.


    So Assou got to his feet. His palms tapped over the shendyt and the ruffled front soaked up the moisture from his hands. His destination led him into the corridor, where only quiet whispers echoed along the ornately painted walls as the patter of his feet on bare stone. It was only when he arrived outside the palace that the world of the others came crashing down on him.


    The guards on either side didn¡¯t move, but the slaves, who were trying to keep up the splendour of the royal quarters, chatted amongst themselves. Some stumbled and laughed. Others attracted attention with the clanking of heavy chains.


    He followed their joys for a moment until he broke away from the spectacle and continued on his way round the side of the palace. The mighty walls stretched past him like a rampart and the statues of the deceased Great Queens and those who stood at Ramesses¡¯ side towered over him like gods. The impression only faded when he reached one of the attached gardens surrounding the palace. They were small, unremarkable grounds, with a few dates on display and green bushes in the foreground. Not as lush as in the palace, where they grew under protection near Ramesses¡¯ chambers. Instead, faded and tired in the face of Re.


    The charming statues placed there brought rigid life between the fronts. Soon, another would be added and people could gaze at watchful eyes in timeless beauty in the gardens. Meritamen would remain in everyone¡¯s memory.


    The clanking of chains aroused his curiosity, forcing Assou onwards until he had almost circled one statue. What stopped him was Fatrada, sitting on her knees with a piece of cloth in her hands. The bucket of water at her side helped to wash away the dirt from the sculptures, and her dreamy gaze made every word choke on Assou¡¯s tongue. Watching her made the burning heat sweet and the sight of her something he would much rather have captured in stone than Meritamen.


    ¡°You seem very busy.¡± Eventually he did address her, softly, wishing to hear her voice and gain her attention. ¡°Are you all right? Is Maathorneferure treating you tolerably?¡±


    Fatrada¡¯s gaze shot up to him after his first two words, and although she had previously seemed like a beautiful woman in the distance, reality hit him mercilessly. Dark circles underlined her gaze, standing out puffy and swollen. The lustre in her eyes was missing, replaced by motionless irritation. Neither her posture nor her body had any tension and the exhausted sigh escaping her barely later sent a shiver through his body.


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    It immediately forced Assou to crouch down, closer to Fatrada, hoping to shoulder some of her fatigue. But nothing changed. Only her position adjusted, causing her to press her arms tightly against herself.


    ¡°Vizier Assou.¡± Her voice sounded raspy. ¡°What can I do for you?¡±


    His mouth opened faster than he could find an answer. What remained was to look at her; to scrutinise her body, which had become thinner and whose injuries he only noticed in these breaths. Red marks faded in scattered places, bathing her body in an ugly image of another¡¯s rage. His fingers twitched. The desire to touch her, to give her the protective embrace of another, flooded him.


    But he could give her nothing.


    He was nothing more than a figure on the edge, doing everything he could to give her freedom. Until then, he was no help; no one who had the right to touch her, though the heaviness in his chest made every breath a little more lifeless.


    ¡°I ... assume Maathorneferure is responsible for this?¡± He knew, and yet he was left with only the question, answered by Fatrada¡¯s slow nod. She wasn¡¯t prepared to give him any answers. If he wanted to know something, he would have to draw his own conclusions. Maybe even ask someone else who cared about the well-being of the slaves.


    Indecisively, Assou ran both hands over his face. The only thing he could say for sure was that she was no longer angry with him. Her time at Maathorneferure¡¯s side had robbed her of her strength and with it the hatred she had once so blatantly harboured towards him. What remained was a shell with no words, no name, and no real will. A state from which she had to recover.


    ¡°Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need something to drink? Maybe something to eat? A break?¡± There had to be something he could do. But Fatrada remained silent. Her gaze had dropped. Her desire for a conversation had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared ¨C if she had ever really wanted to talk to him.


    Once again, he gathered his senses, ready to tell her about her new fate, when the distressed gasp of another came through to him. Closely followed by a sound of despair, it coursed through him in a flash. His legs instantly pushed through and although Fatrada should be the most important thing in this instance, he couldn¡¯t help but look around. His eyes darted across the narrow garden to linger on Meritamen. There was little royalty in her hunched posture and the hands on her stomach held it so tightly that her shoulders shook. Every step she took swayed.


    ¡°Please... someone...¡± She gasped again before leaning against a statue and slowly sliding to her knees.


    Assou¡¯s gaze wandered to Fatrada again. She had also noticed the Great Queen, but remained in her position. Her hands clutched tightly in the cloth, she waited. Wordless and unable to move. The decision was entirely up to him.


    Showing his best side was what he had always wanted to show Fatrada. So he hurried off. Straight to Meritamen. If he helped, Fatrada would realise that he only wanted the best. Especially for her.


    ¡°Your Highness!¡± He fell to his knees before the queen. ¡°Are you all right?¡±


    ¡°Vizier... may the gods bless you...¡± Her breathing hung heavily on her lips as she placed a hand on his leg and raised her dark gaze. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. ¡°Would you ... take me to my chambers?¡±


    His answer was a curt nod before he grabbed Meritamen under the legs and by the shoulder to carry her away. Her weight lay heavy in his arms. As a vizier behind a table, his muscles were beyond meagre, but he didn¡¯t let the effort show as he carried the Great Queen into the palace ¨C surrounded by slaves. Even the guards turned round to look at him, taking in the unfamiliar sight as he followed the corridors and allowed his companions to open the door to Meritamen¡¯s royal chamber.


    Only when he had set her down on the bed, ready to turn round and hurry back to Fatrada, did his kindness get in the way. Slaves were bringing water, checking on their queen¡¯s well-being, and a few of them were talking to him, hoping to shed light on the darkness.


    Raising his hands, Assou summarised the events in brief words ¨C without mentioning Fatrada at all.


    ¡°We should have been more careful...¡± One woman put her hands to her head. ¡°Someone should have accompanied her. After all, she wasn¡¯t well before.¡±


    In the end, Assou allowed himself to be involved in the situation. ¡°Is the pregnancy not going as expected?¡±


    Some women shook their heads before the most desperate one lowered her hands and looked at Meritamen with narrowed brows. ¡°She hasn¡¯t been well for a while. It¡¯s got to the point where the Great Queen Maathorneferure sometimes comes by and brings herbs to help, and the honourable Great Queen Bintanath keeps dropping by as well.¡± She sighed. ¡°But it remains difficult.¡±


    ¡°We should let the Great Queen rest,¡± another interjected. ¡°Vizier, we thank you, but please understand that rest is the best cure.¡±


    She didn¡¯t even have to ask him. The incident would reach Ramesses without his intervention, and the time he wasted at Meritamen¡¯s side was better spent at Fatrada¡¯s.


    Finally seeing her again after all these days had awakened less in him than he had expected and yet it was during these seconds he felt his thoughts wanting to think of little else but her friendly smile and her sweet voice. Her presence attracted his body and her existence flared up like a long-forgotten fire in his being. The eternal wavering between oblivion and obsession receded into the background. In these breaths, Assou wanted to know she was with him, to feel her body and breathe her scent. He wanted to follow her as long as she would let him.


    His senses carried him away, back to the statues, which still rested unchanged at their posts and yet seemed to have changed. They had become more beautiful, and he didn¡¯t know whether it was because of Fatrada or the anticipation of being close to her again in a few moments.


    He skilfully slid next to the same figure where he had left Fatrada ¨C greeted by empty loneliness. She no longer crouched between stone and water to clean, nor did she emerge when he called her name and circled each statue. His time at Meritamen¡¯s side had robbed him of his chance with Fatrada. Another misstep he could do nothing about.


    All that remained was the silence of the garden, which stifled any joy in him.

 Mystery

    The days interwove with the nights, bathed in light and shadow whenever Assou dared to look outside. He hadn¡¯t seen Fatrada since the incident with Meritamen. She was neither to be found in the corridors nor among the statues. His preparations and work had prevented a thorough search and Dinem had disappeared from the face of the earth. What he was left with were sporadic visits from Amenti, which were a sporadic balm over the course of three days.


    His desk was the only thing providing familiar security and keeping him calm in those moments when all he had to do was breathe. By the end of the day, the festival for which he had assigned countless tasks would begin. The new statue of Meritamen stood in front of the palace, beautifully displayed and adorned with unique flowers. The food was prepared, tables and elevations, even chairs and ornaments made of colourful stones were placed.


    Maathorneferure¡¯s parents occasionally strolled through the palace ¨C at least according to some slaves ¨C and Ramesses had welcomed them with warm greetings and open arms. The Third Great Queen, however, remained in the shadows. She neither greeted her parents nor turned to anyone. She only paid attention to Meritamen, and although she didn¡¯t fit in there, it was a strange kindness a few slaves noticed within the royal chambers.


    Some stories he picked up in the corridors he dismissed as fairy tales. Maathorneferure was too vicious for most good deeds. And when he thought of how readily she gave up Fatrada, there had to be much more to her behaviour. Whatever her motivation was, Assou could only hope her interest didn¡¯t turn in his direction.


    With a sigh on his lips, he propped himself up on his hands and leant back. Looking up at the unadorned ceiling, he squared his shoulders. Not much longer and he would meet Fatrada at the feast. Everyone would be there. No one would have the chance to hide in their rooms. It was the best chance to see her again and tell her the good news that she was free ¨C from Maathorneferure. He would finally have time to talk to her at length, take away her fear and sadness, and give her clothes that flattered her. She would be happy ¨C with him.


    Assou couldn¡¯t remember when he had become fixated on Fatrada, but her beauty was still worthy of his appreciation. It was the only thing that felt like it belonged to him, while all the other feelings came flooding in whenever he wasn¡¯t paying attention. It was nice to enjoy the normal moments with her. But the quiet urge in the background, the desire to possess her, wove thin threads between them.


    He snorted. Part of him forced himself to his feet. He had to do something, shake off his thoughts somehow. Even if he just strolled through the palace looking for Fatrada, it would be better than withering away behind this table.


    The tugging in his legs made the first few steps numb before a dull tingling ran through his senses, forcing him to stop and massage his thighs even before he reached the door. Only when the tension eased and his muscles felt stronger did he move forwards. The corridors greeted him with hurried slaves, their hands balancing food and wine. Judging by the haste, the pharaoh once again stayed with Maathorneferue¡¯s parents to listen to stories, and the thought of them understanding each other made it difficult to believe he would ever be able to cast this woman into Ramesses¡¯ disfavour.


    Groaning, he pushed the thought away. Where he had wanted to kill her before, it no longer mattered. She was no longer seen as a danger in the face of all the problems he had to face for pleasure. If she held back, the hatred in him lost its meaning. He didn¡¯t have the capacity to carry the same draining feeling of loathing every day. Instead, he had to help Fatrada and achieve a happy ending. Something that outweighed this chaos.


    His eyes glided over the murals. Since the last time he had seen them, new drawings had been added. Stories that spread and that the pharaoh collected to entertain himself. If the gods didn¡¯t have any exciting dreams in store, the stories of others had to be used and all too often Ramesses was caught demanding stories instead of payment. Perhaps because they didn¡¯t need any more gold than they already possessed, but it still cast a strangely confusing light on the head of the country, who ruled peace like no one had ever done before.


    Passing strong pillars and countless slaves who polished the palace to a shine before nightfall, Assou headed out. There, where no one was waiting, because they were all putting the finishing touches on the fire. No matter how deep the grief and worry was for some, they would all come to celebrate. To drink and dance, to sing and eat, because it was the only thing that made them forget. It seemed bitter that he himself found no peace in all this. Peace in his soul meant tranquillity; the ability to breathe and know that no one was waiting for him. Freedom to go wherever he wanted, free from the intrigues of others and the documents that would haunt him until the end.


    His shoulders slumped. The sight of the city within his grasp robbed him of the desire to search. Finding Fatrada was still important, but in these moments, he had nothing to offer her. She had disappeared while he had been looking after Meritamen. A reminder that she needed time, far away from anyone she couldn¡¯t judge.


    The emptiness surrounding him wrapped its arms tightly around his mind. For a second, there was no strength left to go on. He didn¡¯t want to talk, to devote himself to any tasks; just to stand there and wait ¨C to watch the world fall into darkness and the torches bring light and warmth.


    For a few breaths, he simply let everyone be. All that mattered to him was peace, the certainty of being able to stand in this place and not be in anyone¡¯s way. It was only when he recognised the small, dark shape of a cat from a distance that his senses ventured back into his body. Every muscle movement became present and when the slender body of Amenti reached him, the weight had returned with all its tasks.


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    ¡°I see you¡¯re coming to the feast, too.¡± His arms crossed in front of his chest, his attention followed her movements. Amenti only gave him a silent mew, passing him by as if he wasn¡¯t even there. She was probably at least as tired as he was.


    The cat settled down in front of him, her eyes fixed on the city, which was following its own hustle and bustle. Assou took it as an invitation to sit down next to her in the sand. The breath on his lips remained heavy and looking at the facades of the houses gave him back a piece of his childhood. Days when he had secretly sat in the shadows of his house to watch the goings-on of the people. Those had been carefree eternities for which he had never been reprimanded. And yet, he had grown up. Obligations clung to him and, though he wanted to forget, Fatrada came back to his mind.


    ¡°I hope she manages.¡± The image in front of him mesmerised him. ¡°Not long now and she¡¯ll be free and hopefully happy.¡±


    Amenti¡¯s head nestled almost unnoticeably against his thigh. Simultaneously, his thoughts clung to Fatrada¡¯s existence as a slave. Even if she was freed by Maathorneferure, she would still be in another captivity. Only when she was able to leave this palace and build a new life for herself would she no longer be a slave for others. But letting Fatrada go was out of the question. Although she was still young, she wasn¡¯t a woman who could be easily conquered. On top of that, she had no way of surviving alone in this society, which meant she would be going home. Far away from him and all the ideas that flitted through his head. She would return to her house in disgrace. And all because of him.


    Without further ado, he lowered his eyelids and took a deep breath. Amenti¡¯s head nestled a little closer to him and the loneliness faded. Instead, a whisper spread through his ears. A murmur he didn¡¯t understand, and yet it captivated him. It lured him, dragged his thoughts in another direction, far away from Fatrada; and all the problems that lurked behind it.


    The hairs on his arms stood on end as a shiver swept down his spine and he opened his eyes. Nothing showed signs of change. At least not until a strange heat came close to his body and breathed shallow words into his senses long before he could turn round.


    ¡°Fatrada. Just who is this woman to take over all your senses?¡±


    Assou turned round hastily, heard his back crack and spotted Maged a few steps away. The twinkle in his dark eyes possessed mischief that challenged him.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± The pounding in his chest took on warning intensity.


    ¡°Keeping myself busy, enjoying the time, looking for entertainment before everything ends.¡± Maged shrugged his shoulders. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be attending to your work or even looking out for this Fatrada?¡±


    ¡°I should rather find out who you are...¡± Slowly, Assou struggled to his feet. ¡°What I need are answers, nothing else.¡±


    ¡°Nothing else, is that right?¡± The boy tilted his head in amusement. ¡°That sounds terribly simple.¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡±


    Without further ado, Maged clasped his hands behind his back and took in his surroundings. ¡°I¡¯m a child of the gods. That remains unchanged.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe,¡± Assou replied. ¡°And yet it¡¯s hard to think of anything else when I see how you cover distances in such a short time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m an excellent runner.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s all there is to it?¡±


    ¡°It is.¡± Maged¡¯s shrug moved the conversation aside before turning his attention back to his former interest. ¡°Will you tell me about your Fatrada? I prefer to know the people who will one day become part of the big picture.¡±


    Maged was probably thinking of the world of the gods. Of the life that followed once they renounced their own and left their mortal bodies. If he was indeed a child of the gods, then he knew the process. Both sides lay at his feet, and though his form seemed insignificant against the sunset ¨C the jewellery brought only a hint of nobility ¨C Assou believed his words a little more.


    ¡°She was a wheat seller,¡± the vizier continued. ¡°Married to a man who was her only option. Yet she is beautiful.¡± He bowed his head. ¡°Now she¡¯s a slave in the palace.¡±


    ¡°But who is she?¡± Maged slowly stepped closer. ¡°I know what she¡¯s done and what she¡¯s doing now, but that doesn¡¯t tell me who she is.¡±


    Without further ado, Assou looked at him. Putting Fatrada into words was difficult. So he closed his eyes and went through the moments with her. He remembered her smile; her raised eyebrows and all the amazement. Her calm words and the rigid refusal.


    ¡°Fatrada is a righteous woman,¡± Assou dared once more. ¡°She¡¯s loyal and honest and she doesn¡¯t care much about other people¡¯s status because we¡¯re all only human. She¡¯s also stubborn and strong-willed. And she¡¯s clever. Smart and sarcastic. She rarely takes me seriously.¡±


    ¡°And I bet she can get awfully angry,¡± Maged added.


    The nod of his head was stiff. ¡°But she¡¯s also fragile. She has a soft core that despairs when she has to fight the entire world alone. At least that¡¯s how it feels.¡±


    Looking at Fatrada from these angles harboured something he had almost forgotten. Before this strange, absurd obsession had taken over his every thought, there had been affection. He had watched her, gazed at her and sometimes dared to walk past her stall. It had been a cautious love that had turned into something dark and unyielding. He had wanted Fatrada for himself and whenever he had faced her, met her or hadn¡¯t thought about her for too long, the addiction had flared up. A feeling that made his love for her ugly.


    Assou¡¯s eyelids slowly opened again. The calm inside him brought clarity he knew would soon pass. Not in those seconds, just before the party, right in front of a boy who placed his hand on his upper arm. His patting motion throbbed through Assou¡¯s body.


    ¡°You are a good man, I believe. But luck isn¡¯t in your hands. Not when the gods have plans of their own.¡± Maged¡¯s hand loosened. ¡°Maybe that just makes you foolish, too.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± The pulsing in Assou¡¯s body subsided, giving way to tense shoulders and shaky nerves. ¡°What are the gods planning? You, as a child of their side, should know.¡±


    ¡°I truly do. But you will soon understand for yourself if you keep a clear head in the face of your journey.¡±


    Maged gave nothing away. His slender body took a few steps back. It was distance lurking between them like a chasm, preventing Assou from following. He could only stay in place and watch. Perplexed and full of questions, the answers to which he had to find out all by himself.


    ¡°Let me just tell you,¡± the boy continued, ¡°that not every ending comes as expected. It¡¯s up to you how you deal with it and whether you find out how to go down that path.¡±


    More tangled words, which Assou accepted despite everything, in the faint hope that Maged was right. Meanwhile, he watched as the boy turned away and made his way straight into the palace. No one stopped him. It made him somehow divine. Unlike others who submitted to the limits and also unlike Assou, whose mortality in the face of the city mocked his ears.