“What?” Someone yanked on Kepi’s arm. She opened her eyes with difficulty—it had taken her a long time to fall asleep—and looked up into the gawking face of Menes, leaning over her. “You’re here? You’re here!” He danced in a circle, shaking his fists at the sky, while she managed to sit up. “Hurrah!” And he stopped. He leaned over again and clapped her on the back. “So where’s the baboon?”
“They stole him.”
Menes’s eyes widened and his fingers tightened around Kepi’s shoulder. “How could you let them do that?”
“I didn’t let them. And don’t yell at me. You let them, too.”
Menes dropped down on the ground beside her. He cupped his forehead in his hands and rocked his head, as though it was as heavy as a boulder.
Babu was gone and Kepi was hungry and she felt all strange and nothing was right. “We should find a family to take us in for a while.”
“Don’t be absurd. We can’t waste time here.”
Kepi didn’t want to waste time either. But she felt so sick. “I’ll pray to the gods.”
“You little faker. The gods didn’t help you. You just took advantage of the moment to get your freedom from the basket.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh, yeah? If the gods protected you, how come you wound up in our boat to start with, huh?”
Kepi turned her head away. It was true. The gods had let the men steal her. But she was sure things had changed. She was close to the gods now. They had to care about her, too. It was impossible not to care about someone who cared about you.
“It doesn’t make sense,” said Menes. “And you know it as well as I do. Some god may have sent that crazy croc and that crazy hippo. But whatever god it was, he sure wasn’t looking out for you. I’m not stupid.”
Gods could be mysterious—everyone knew that. Just because she didn’t understand, just because Menes didn’t understand, didn’t mean that the gods weren’t with her. Kepi squared her jaw at him. “You got left behind. You look stupid to me.”
Menes glared at her. “I don’t take well to insults. And I just had a very bad night. So, little tempest, you’re on your own.” He stood up and brushed himself off. “That’s my baboon. I’m going after them.” He walked up the street toward town.
Kepi jumped to her feet. “Wait! I’m coming with you!” But Menes turned a corner. He was out of sight already. Kepi gulped. Then fury hit her. She couldn’t believe Menes had called Babu his baboon. He really was awful. Let him go.
Kepi wiped her nose, which was running. Her throat was sore, too. She’d caught a cold overnight. A cold, on top of being sick from the basket. At least on the boat Nanny and Babu and Kepi had kept each other warm as they slept; nothing had warmed her last night. Every time she had snuggled against Menes, he had groaned and rolled away.
She looked down at herself. Her dress was dirty. No, it was worse than that. It was filthy. Mother would have been ashamed. She kept her family immaculately clean, as any Egyptian mother did. Kepi’s stomach cramped from emptiness. The morning chill hadn’t burned off yet; she shivered. She rubbed at her nose again. Now her hand was revoltingly snotty. She wiped it on her dress. What did it matter? She was quickly becoming a slimy mess.
Kepi cried.
When her tears finally seemed to run out, she washed her face in the river. Hunger seized her. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. She couldn’t wait for Menes to come back; she had better go find him. Somehow he always had food.
She walked into town. Smells of the morning meal came from open windows and doors everywhere. Kepi licked her lips and kept walking. She looked down every side street. She peeked into a brewery. No Menes.
She leaned into an open door. A woman was cleaning tables with a cloth. It was an eating hall. Maybe if Kepi looked pathetic enough, this woman would have pity on her and give her a crust of bread, at least. “Excuse me, please.” Kepi used her sweetest voice. “I’m . . . I’m sort of lost. I mean, I lost my food satchel.”
The woman turned, took one look at Kepi, and gasped. She ran at her and snapped the cloth in her face. “Get out of here. Go, before I sic a dog on you.”
Kepi backed out and walked to the corner. She turned right and staggered.
Dizziness made her rest against a wall and lean over. The area behind her eyes hurt now. And the area between her eyes. She wasn’t chilly anymore. She was hot. That was how colds were—they got worse fast.
Kepi walked as fast as she could manage to the dock. Menes had to come back there soon. He’d take care of her.
The dock had transformed since she’d woken up. All the fishing boats had gone out. Only two little reed boats were tied there, side by side. Both were empty. Exhaustion overcame Kepi. She climbed into a boat and stretched out on the bottom. She closed her eyes against the rude sun. The bobbing of the boat on the water soothed her. She fought to stay awake.
“All right, then” came a voice, soon enough. “It’s a deal.”
Kepi opened her eyes and pushed herself up to sitting. Menes was climbing into the reed boat beside the one she was in. A man stood on the dock and handed him two paddles and a pole.
“Menes!”
“It’s you.” He put down the gear and shook his head.
“I’m sick.”
Menes furrowed his brow and peered hard at her. “Well, don’t bother me about it. I’ve just lost the results of several months of work. You know what that means?”
“You’re ruined.”
“Ruined? Don’t be an idiot. I only talked about ruin with the crew to persuade them to do things my way. But I can always get along. I’m mad, that’s what I am. No one gets away with stealing from me. I’m going to get my baboon back. You live in the other direction. I’m not helping you get home.”
“I don’t want to go home. I want to go with you.”
“Really?” Menes dipped a bucket over the side of the boat and filled it with water. He set it in the bottom of his boat. “Why?”
“I have something I have to do in Ineb Hedj.”
“What?”
“Talk to the pharaoh.”
Menes dropped his head toward Kepi. Then he laughed. “You know, I half believe you. You’re something, all right. It just might be a good idea to take you. You could help with paddling. But you have to say sorry for insulting me.”
“You’re the one who insults me,” said Kepi.
Menes untied the rope that held the little boat to the dock post. He was really leaving. Without her. He sat in the middle of the boat and stuck his paddle in the water, maneuvering the boat backward, away from the dock.
Kepi stood up in her boat. “I’m sorry. I won’t insult you anymore.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.” Kepi splayed her legs to keep from wobbling. “But you have to promise you won’t call Babu your baboon anymore.”
Menes was already out in the river. “All right, little tempest. If you can catch this, you can come.” He threw the rope toward her.
Kepi jumped for it. Both the rope and Kepi landed in the water. She came up spluttering.
Menes paddled over and held out the wooden blade to her. She grabbed hold and he pulled her on board. “Are you too sick to paddle?”
Kepi’s teeth chattered and she thought she was going to vomit. But she pushed her sopping hair out of her eyes and picked up the second paddle.
“All right, then.” Menes moved more toward the rear.
Kepi sat in front of him and dipped her paddle into the opposite side.
“Do it this way,” said Menes. And he taught her to grip it firmly, dip it in straight down beside her, push it straight back as far as she could reach, then lift it out just enough to clear the surface of the water as she swung it back around to dip in beside her and start all over again.
After a while, Kepi found the rhythm natural. It was hard work, but she could do it fine. “How did you manage to get this boat?”
“I bought it. I kept a few nuggets of silver from the chest. Always keep a reserve. That’s my advice.”
That was like Father, when he said to put by for a rainy day. Well, Kepi had done that—she’d taken that one silver piece from the trunk. But she’d been stupid to hide it on the boat. Menes was trickier than her. Everyone was so tricky. It made Kepi tired to think about it. “How long will it take us to get to Waset?”
“We can be there by tonight.”
Finally, good news. Tonight Kepi could hold Babu again.
They paddled a long time. When the sun was directly overhead, Menes laid his paddle in the bottom of the boat. “We can let the current carry us awhile. Go on, put your paddle down.”
Kepi laid her paddle on her side of the bottom. Then she turned around to face Menes, and she fell backward. She didn’t even try to push herself up again.
“You really are sick.” Menes opened a cloth satchel. “Here.” He came over beside her and lifted her head and shoulders up. He held a jar to her mouth. “Drink this.”
The beer was cool and delicious. Kepi wiped her mouth. “Thanks.”
Menes eased her back down and handed her a hunk of bread. “Eat slowly.” He ate and drank himself and watched her. “You remind me of someone.”
“Your sister Nanu?”
Menes laughed. “I don’t have a sister Nanu. I just said that to make you trust me.”
Kepi let out a little cry of dismay. “Do you ever tell the truth?”
“When it suits me. I just figured out who you remind me of—myself. You’re my stubborn little tempest.”
Kepi rolled onto her side with her back to him and gnawed on the bread. “I can’t wait to hold Babu tonight.”
“You won’t see him tonight.”
Kepi held on to the side of the boat and pulled herself up to sitting. “You said we’d be in Waset tonight—and I heard the men say they were going to Waset.”
“Sure. That’s where they spent last night, I bet. But they traded away all the gold and silver. And they have a boat full of pottery already. They don’t need to stay in towns any longer than to sleep. By now, they’re halfway to Nubt—the next town. They’ll stay ahead of us the whole way to Ineb Hedj. Getting farther ahead all the time. If you paddle hard, you might see Babu in a month.”
A month. Kepi curled into a ball with her head on her knees. A month without Babu. A month of Menes. A month of not seeing her family. And then all the time it would take to get home.
A month was an eternity.