Heretic of the Nile

012

After the hunting party had retired to their tents for the night, Kha stealthily snuck out of his and headed towards the direction of the stepped pyramid, which could still be seen rearing its majestic head in the west. To his surprise, it took him almost an hour on foot before he could glimpse the familiar walls of the necropolis enclosure. That was how far he and Mereneith had traversed underground, and how extensive the tombs of the forefathers actually stretched.

Before he even stepped foot into the necropolis, he could already hear boisterous laughter and shouts coming from within. A party was still in full swing, or so it seemed.

The celebration in question was being held at the central courtyard of the architects' living quarters, brightly lit by burning torches and suffused with the glorious aromas of roast meats and vegetables. Kha spotted the bulbous chief architect lounging at one end of the courtyard decked with accessories of bronze and gold, his arms propped around the shoulders of two of the "nubile creatures" that he had been speaking of.

Kha snorted. If he didn't know better, he might think Baahir was a member of the royal family—or perhaps even the king himself. It was utterly brazen of him to dare throw such a lavish party within the necropolis itself, when this was meant to be a sacred place and final home to the souls of kings.

He was about to march straight into the courtyard and demand answers from the insolent chief architect when he saw Baahir rise from his seat and slip away through one of side passageways. Kha opted to take a detour and waylay the man instead. He rubbed his hands together gleefully, imagining the look of shock and horror on Baahir's face when he realised he had been caught red-handed in such acts of blasphemy by a prince of Egypt.

"Your Excellency," he heard a voice greet Baahir. It belonged to a tall man that towered at least two heads above the stout architect, dressed in the attire of a necropolis guard.

Your Excellency?

Clearly Baahir's power and influence out here in Saqqara far exceeded expectations, for him to deem it fit to be addressed with a title that should only belong to the viziers and appointed nobles of the royal court.

"What is the matter? Can't you see I was in the middle of something? Couldn't this wait till morning?" Baahir snapped, kicking the other man brusquely at the ankle.

Kha remained hidden beneath the shadow of a pillar, eavesdropping.

"The search party has just returned. There's no sign of the prince anywhere. He might have found another exit from the underground tunnels, or he might still be lost down there in the labyrinth."

"What! You still haven't found that useless piece of dung?" Baahir shouted. He kicked the guard another two times, each one harder than before. "This is such a waste of my time and effort. If he's still stuck down there then he'll starve to death before the week is up, which is just as well. If he's escaped..."

Kha's blood ran cold. He instinctively withdrew even further into the shadows.

When he heard that Baahir's men were searching for him, the flickers of hope lit up in his mind. It meant that the king knew he hadn't perished in the fire. They were looking for him, and when they found him, they would arrange for a ship to take him back home to Memphis and everything could go back to the way it used to be. It seemed he was mistaken.

"Keep searching. If he's dead, we need to see a corpse. If he's not, then he needs to become one, else you and I won't have a satisfactory answer to give to His Highness," Baahir ordered, his beady eyes flashing dangerously. He let out a loud harrumph before turning on his heels and returning the way he came.

After both men had left, Kha slowly stepped out from his hiding place, his entire body trembling in disbelief.

They want to kill me.