Kepi opened her eyes. It was dark, and she was lying on cold ground. She lifted her head to sit up and clunk! She fell back. Her forehead hurt. And now the back of her head really hurt—far worse than her forehead. She was under something. And her hands were tied behind her. And there was a gag in her mouth.
And now she remembered what had happened. They’d ditched her.
Wherever she was, she had to get out of here fast. She rolled onto her side. Her shoulder touched what was above her: stone. Homes and stores were made of mud bricks. Nothing was made of stone except a temple. Oh, no!
Forgive me, god or goddess, prayed Kepi inside her heart, whatever god or goddess you are, forgive me for coming into your home. Ordinary people like me are not invited. I know that. I didn’t come on my own. I was placed here by bad men. Forgive me. I will leave as fast as I can. With your help, of course. Thank you for understanding.
“You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s all right.” The voice was real. And soothing.
Kepi waited, but no more words came. So she rolled again. She was quickly out from under the thing. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light of early evening. She had been under a bench. And the side of it was inscribed. She managed to sit up and then stand. It was hard to do without the use of her hands.
There was no one there; no one who belonged to that voice. Kepi didn’t expect there would be.
This was a small chamber, not a temple at all. And the walls were made of mud brick, not stone. Only the inscribed bench was stone. There was a hole in one wall, and a door in another. Kepi peeked through the hole. She could make out a statue inside painted blue and red and gold. What? This was a rich person’s mastaba—a burial tomb. And the ka of that person lived in the statue. Kepi bowed in respect. She slowly backed away and out the door. On the sides of and above the door were stone slabs with more inscriptions and pictures in bright colors. Kepi couldn’t read, but she could tell from the pictures that the deceased must have enjoyed fishing and having women dance before him. From one picture, she guessed he was probably the overseer of a building project. Maybe even a temple. And he must have worshipped a bull-headed god. He was a big eater, too: the walls had carvings of all the foods he wanted in the afterlife.
She turned and walked as quickly as she dared down the closest street. She had to be careful, though, because she couldn’t risk tripping or she’d fall flat on her face with her hands tied behind her like that. Shops had closed for the evening, and families were asleep. A dog barked as she walked past one home. That set up barking from lots of dogs in nearby homes. In the far distance, jackals howled back. Jackals. Even without the howling, it felt creepy to be out so late all alone. But that eerie noise made her frantic.
She couldn’t stop herself from running now. She headed straight for the first open door she saw and went inside.
Men sat in pairs at tables here and there, playing a game on multicolored boards. One player moved ivory pieces around a board, and the other moved ebony ones. The air smelled strongly of beer.
Kepi stood inside the doorway and looked from man to man. One of them was missing a leg. Had a chunk of rock fallen on him, like the one that had fallen on Kepi’s father? It must have been huge, to kill his whole leg. Maybe he had worked for Pharaoh Khufu on the pyramid, too, and maybe he’d gotten no help either. He was just as bad off as Father.
“What have we here?” A smiling man came up. His face was weather lined. He must have been old. “A little wild thing. You won’t bite me if I take that gag off you, will you?”
Kepi shook her head.
The man untied her gag.
“They stole my baboon.” The words burst out of her. “And the goat.”
“Unusual words from an unusual critter,” said the old man.
Right. Kepi had better talk sensibly. It was important these men believe her so they’d help her. She had to catch up with that trade boat. Babu was on it. And so was the silver piece that she’d taken from the chest. She’d hidden it between ropes at the base of the mast. That silver piece was her only way to trade for passage home after she talked to the pharaoh. “I need help. Please untie my hands.”
The old man untied Kepi’s hands. “I’ll walk you home now, little beggar.”
“I’m not a beggar. And you can’t walk me home.” Kepi’s bottom lip trembled, but she fought off tears. “I live way down south. Near Wetjeset-Hor.”
The old man looked around. “Anyone know where that is?”
“I do,” said a man with a shaved head. “It’s days and days south of here.”
The old man frowned. “How did you get here, girlie?”
“I was . . .” She was about to say stolen, but then the men might decide to send her home rather than helping her get back on the boat. “. . . given a ride by men in a boat. But then they hit me on the head and tied me up and left me . . .” She didn’t want to tell them about the mastaba, in case they got angry at her. “ . . . and left me on the ground. They took the boat away, with my baboon and a goat. She’s not my goat, but she’s not really theirs either. They’re not even nice to her.”
“Seems there’s a whole lot of stealing going on these days,” said a man near the rear. “And a whole lot of strange talk about baboons.”
“Did someone else talk about baboons?” asked Kepi, all at once hopeful.
“A drunk down at the dock.”
It had to be Menes. He would want to catch up to the trade boat just as much as Kepi did. He was her best chance. Kepi blinked. “Which way’s the dock?”
“Now now, we won’t let you go running off to the dock,” said the old man. “That dock’s no place for a—”
But Kepi was already out the door. She ran straight down the street till it ended and she had to turn. Randomly, she turned right and ran and ran and ran. Finally the buildings ended and the road stopped. She was at the very edge of town, and she still couldn’t see the river. The river was to the west, she knew that much. But she didn’t know how to tell which way was west from the night sky. She’d only been out at night with Father, and always in the hot months. And that’s when it was light out a little longer, so she rarely was awake long enough to see the full range of lights in the sky. The lights grouped in different places this time of year, anyway.
She remembered the jackals howling. Lions could be out there, too. And leopards. She had to think straight. There must be a way to figure out which road led to the docks.
But she obviously couldn’t think straight, because no solution came to her. All right, then, she would just walk back to the first street cutting off this one and take it all the way to the end, and if that didn’t work, then the second street, and so on. And that’s what she did. Moonlight guided her steps; she never fell, not once.
It was the middle of the night before Kepi came out on the docks. At last: There was Menes, sprawled on the ground and reeking of beer. She stood over him a moment. He looked pitiful and almost small, all out in the open like this. But he also looked kind of sweet. Or maybe that was just because a strong feeling of tenderness had come over her. This man had problems with his thinking. He had intended to sell her as a slave—so there was a hole in his heart. But at the same time, she now knew he’d looked out for her with the crew. In his own odd way, he might very well be a friend. And right now he was the only friend she had. She might be the only friend he had, too.
There was no point waking him; travel on the river was impossible at night. And the way his mouth hung open, she didn’t think he was wakeable, anyway.
Kepi sat up against Menes and looked at the vast sky. At least she could fall asleep watching the distant lights, like she always did back home. A sharp pang of longing for home made her whole body hurt. She could hardly bear to think about Father and Mother and Nanu. They must worry about her all the time.
The stars were exceptionally glorious right then, twinkling and shimmering in a big swath from one horizon to the other. On a night like this, Nanu and Kepi would have basked in the glory of the sky and sung together till one of them dozed off. Had Nanu watched these stars tonight and fallen asleep wondering where her little sister was, whether she was even alive? Did she cry? Did they all cry?
Kepi was crying now. She would get home. She had a job to do in Ineb Hedj first. An important job. The sight of that man with the missing leg in the game hall had reminded her how important it was. But as soon as she’d done it, she would get back to her family. Fast.
Disappearance was brutal. Maybe more brutal than knowing something awful had happened to someone. She wouldn’t leave her family wondering forever.
The families of those men who had died today, they’d suffer from their disappearance. They’d wonder forever. Kepi could almost hear their wailing in her heart. She was very sad for them.
And she was sad for herself: Babu was gone. Loss made every part of her ache. Kepi stared up at the sky. Please, whatever god is watching me, please make the crew treat Babu and Nanny well.
The sliver of moonlight was delicate and kind. “I will,” came the gentle voice, the same voice she’d heard when she was in the mastaba.
And she almost expected it. Life had become so much confusion, but one little part made sense now: The gods really did watch and listen. They talked to her. And they came in the form of animals. “You helped me find Menes, didn’t you?” Kepi whispered. “You made the alleys light up, even though there’s hardly a moon at all tonight. You lit my way. Thank you, great goddess Hathor.”
Despite how sick and sad Kepi felt, determination blanketed her. She would make it to Ineb Hedj. And she’d get Menes to help her. Then she’d go home and never leave her family again.