Lost in Amon

Chapter Five

The Tears of Amon
Part One

'What are you doing?' Amon appeared next to me, his large feet digging into the red sand. If he hadn't talked, I wouldn't have sensed his approach. Silent, as usual.

I pulled my finger from the warm water, popping it into my mouth. The salt exploded across my tongue and I puckered my lips slightly.

'Just checking something.' I stood up, brushing my hair behind my ear and glancing across the pond.

It had been two days since Re had visited us, yet Amon still hadn't gone to his meeting with Hathor. My leg had finally begun to feel normal. The shredded skin had slowly scabbed over during my time here, and the pain when I moved it had turned into a dull ache. Along with the return of my movement came my curiosity. I could finally begin exploring Amon's realm. My only complaint was that I couldn't take notes.

'Are these really your tears?' I turned and watched him carefully.

The pond was beautiful. If I hadn't seen the tragic story behind its creation, I would never have known it was a reminder of a painful love. Ibis birds walked around its edges; ducks floated along its middle. The water was crystal clear, small ripples floating along it in the cool wind.

Amon was silent. He watched the water with a strange look in his eyes. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. Was it pain? Love? Remembrance? Whatever it was made my heart hurt. It beat out-of-rhythm and I rubbed my hand across it as though I could massage it back to its original tempo. He turned around and walked away. I ran across the sand, trying to keep up with his long strides.

'Sorry, forget I asked,' I muttered.

'I don't care that you asked,' he replied coolly as we climbed the few stairs into the gazebo. He picked up his chalice and took a long gulp from it, telling me he really did care.

'Still. It was a little insensitive.'

He laid himself out across the mattress on the floor, his position relaxed but his face scrunched into a painful expression. I sat next to him, keeping a safe distance. I picked at the thin, golden rope wrapped around my waist, unfurling the edges I had begun to fray with my nervous habit. We sat silently for a while. Only the birds made noise as they chirped happily in the sunlight. I wiped a drop of sweat from my temple. Amon continued to drink from his chalice. The wine never seemed to have an effect and I wondered briefly why he drank it at all. What was the pleasure of wine if it couldn't relieve the pain?

'She was human.' Amon didn't look at me as he spoke, and I held my breath. Half of me couldn't believe he was going to tell me about it—he didn't answer many of my questions, after all—and the other half was confused. I wanted to know the story, the truth, the history. But it hurt thinking about him in pain. I didn't want him to bring it up if it would hurt him, remind him of what he lost all over again.

'You don't have to tell me if you—'

'She was the first human I ever met.' He cut me off, turning to look at me for a moment. His eyes inspected my face. I could feel them roaming across my own: around my eyes, down the slope of my nose, over the arch of my lips, and up the ridges of my cheekbones hidden behind slightly rounded cheeks.

'She was skinny, more so than you.' I tried to not take offense, reminding myself that she was alive thousands of years ago where food was less readily available. Plus, it wasn't like I was super over-weight and all. Just a couple of kilos. I was twenty-five, anyway. That's, like, old enough for your metabolism to stop working as well, right?

'She had no hair, either.' It was commonplace for Ancient Egyptians to remove their body hair. All of it. So, it wasn't that shocking to hear she was bald. I imagine she still would have looked gorgeous without hair if a god like Amon became obsessed with her.