“Kepi! Kepi, are you here?” came the raspy call.
Kepi opened her eyes. It was the middle of the night, but the moon was bright. She didn’t dare move quickly, or the boat might rock and give her away. Kan lay sleeping beside her. They had taken refuge on a small fishing boat at the docks. Kan knew the way, because the slave boys often carried the garbage down here to dump into the river.
Now Kepi slowly closed her fingers around the handle of the paddle beside her. If that call came from the master and if he tried to do anything horrible, she would swing it hard at him. He was big—but that lame leg made him slow. Maybe a blow with the paddle could hold him off long enough to get away.
“Kepi, come on. You have to be here. Don’t act like one of the jackass boys!”
Kepi sat up. “Masud?” she hissed.
“There you are.” Masud ran along the docks and stood in front of their boat. “I saved you bread from the evening meal.”
Kan jumped up at Masud’s voice. He rubbed his eyes. “Bread? Where is it?”
Masud held out two small pieces. “It’s not much. Sorry.”
Kan climbed from the boat onto the dock and took a piece of the bread.
Kepi carefully felt in the bottom of the boat and found the five tin bells she’d made. She closed them in her fist, climbed out, and took the bread. “Thank you, Masud.”
Masud squatted. “Get down like me. That way if anyone should look toward the dock, they’re less likely to see us.”
Kan and Kepi squatted.
“How did you find us?” asked Kepi.
“I figured the dock was the only place in the city you knew other than the metallurgy shop and the workers’ home. Besides, you lived on a boat for so long.” He watched them chew the bread.
Kepi could see from his face that he was hungry, too. He had saved these pieces from his own meal, and Kepi knew how skimpy the workers’ meals were. She swallowed the last bite gratefully. Then she searched with her fingers for that loose spot in her dress hem. She carefully pushed in the tiny tin bells, one by one, and worked them around to the side, where the ostrich feather nestled.
“When the master told us you’d stolen things and run away, he said you’d either die of starvation or come back like begging dogs.”
“We didn’t steal,” said Kan quickly.
“I know. I came looking for Kepi when I got back from an errand, and I saw the two of you through the rear window in the workshop. I was about to come in when the master caught you. He’s a big liar jackass. You won’t come back, will you?”
Kepi shook her head. “I’m going home.”
“That’s good.”
“Only I’m going to do what I came here for first.”
“I knew you’d try.” He pressed a fist against his mouth. Then he spoke slowly. “I’ve thought and thought about this. And not just tonight. I’ve been thinking about it ever since . . .” Masud looked at Kepi. “Ever since I met you.” He took a deep breath and let it out loudly. “I’ll help you. Because I’m free, I get to walk all over. And I was born here—I’ve been here all my life—so I know this city. I can find out things. You need me. And . . .” He hesitated. “. . . I’ll go with you. To your home. I’ll help you get there, and then . . . I’ll become a metallurgist in your village. There’s nothing left here for me now.”
Kan groaned. “Kepi told me her plans last night. I didn’t believe her, but it’s really going to happen. You’re both going to leave.” He crossed his arms at the chest and rubbed his forearms. He curled forward even more against his knees, as if he was cold. “What have I done? Oh, I’ve been so stupid!” he muttered with his head down. “The master will hate me even more now, and I have no place else to go. I’ll starve”
“Come with us,” said Masud. “You can work with me when we get to Kepi’s village.”
“Do you really mean that?”
“You’re good at metallurgy.”
Kan’s forehead crinkled, and for a moment Kepi thought he might do something awful—shout or cry, she couldn’t tell which. “So, what do we do now?” he asked softly.
“Good,” said Kepi. She turned to Masud. “I’ll talk to the pharaoh. Then we can beg a ride on a trade boat and leave this place fast.”
“It won’t be that easy.” Masud sucked his top lip behind his bottom teeth. “The pharaoh won’t talk to you.”
“What do you mean? I’ll just go up to him and—”
“He doesn’t give private audiences to anyone unless they’re the head priest of a town or an ambassador from another land. I asked around. Petitioners have to be important, Kepi. He’d never talk to a kid like you.”
“Then I’ll jump out at him as he’s walking down the street.”
“You can’t get near him. He’s surrounded by servants and dignitaries.”
“No!” wailed Kepi.
“There is one chance. Sometimes he gives a public audience. I don’t know when the next one is. Or where. But I can find out and get directions. Ineb Hedj is big.”
“It can’t be that big,” said Kepi. “We can—”
“Thirty thousand people. It’s the biggest city in the world.”
Thirty thousand. The number was staggering. “All right. Let’s start asking.”
“No,” said Masud. “I have to do it. Alone.”
Kepi pushed him in the shoulder. “This is my job.”
“And you’re wanted. The master went to the authorities after the evening meal and told them you stole his slave and the two of you stole his goods. You both have to hide while I find out everything.”
“They’re looking for us.” Kan’s fingers dug into his arms now. His skin seemed to turn pale gray in the moon-light. “We’re done for.”
“No, you’re not. I have a place to hide you.”
“What about you?” asked Kepi. “Where will you be?”
“I have to stay at the metallurgist’s. The master knows I’m your friend. If I leave, he’ll tell lies about me, too. The only way I can be free to walk around and ask questions is if I go on working. The master sends me on errands often, so I can ask then. And in the evenings after the meal, I can ask around, too. It’s the only way. I’ve thought it through—it’s all I’ve been thinking about. This is how it has to be.” Masud stood. “Come.”
Kepi started to rise, but Kan caught her by the elbow. “Wait. The master favors you, Masud. You’re his adopted son. How do we know you’re not working for him?”
Masud bent over them and opened his hands wide. “You have to trust me.”
Kepi thought of how Masud had thrown the pottery shard to the boy and the legless man on the other side of the metallurgy yard gate. “I do trust you,” she said, “but I don’t understand you. Why would you do all this just for me?”
“It isn’t just for you. My mother died when I was born. So it was only my father and me.” Masud took a deep noisy breath. “He died working on the pharaoh’s pyramid.”
Kepi’s nose prickled from held-back sobs. “I’m sorry, Masud.”
“Follow me.”
“Where are you leading us?” asked Kan.
“To a pottery workers’ home. My cousin lives there. Our fathers died together—and when I went to the metallurgist, she went to the potter.”
“Does the master know about your cousin?” asked Kan.
“Yes,” said Masud. “Oh. Oh, you’re right, I’m not good at this.” He sank back to a squat and dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t know anyone else we can trust.”
Kan suddenly clapped his hands. “Yes, you do. Amisi.”
Masud’s jaw dropped. “Right! Amisi lives in the weavers’ home.”
Amisi meant “flower.” It was the sort of name any girl would love to have. Kepi had been among only men or boys for so long, she felt strange at the very thought of another girl. “Who’s Amisi?”
“An orphan who was brought to the metallurgist last year,” said Masud. “Amisi didn’t last; the work was too hard.”
“And the master treated her too mean,” said Kan.
“Why? What’s wrong with her?”
“Her father was an embalmer,” said Masud.
Embalmers were outcasts.
“But don’t pass judgment on her,” said Kan. “Amisi’s as close to perfect as a girl gets.”
Kepi wasn’t about to pass judgment on Amisi. But she didn’t like the way Kan talked about Amisi. “What’s so perfect about her?”
“Wait till you see her,” said Masud.
Now Masud was doing it, too. Kepi wanted to pinch them both.
“Do you know where the weavers’ home is?” asked Kan.
“Stay close. Let’s go.”