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Nehesy burst from the stench of the tavern into the clear, starry night. The world tilted in a disagreeable fashion, and he slapped a hand on the brick wall to steady himself. He hauled in a deep, sobering breath, and inhaled hot, dusty air instead. He coughed, then straightened, glancing about to ensure he was alone.
Thankfully, the moon was full, illuminating the beige mud-brick huts clustered around the less savoury part of Thinis. Nearby, beyond a shadowy reed thicket, the gentle babble of the Iteru flowed alongside the croaking of a multitude of active amphibians attempting to impress a potential mate with the depth and force of their calls.
“Where to now?” Mahu staggered out the door behind Nehesy and slurred, “Shall we find some women? The other fellows will want to come.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the tavern.
“No.” Nehesy shook his head, then regretted it when the sandy earth listed beneath his feet, as if he were still aboard one of his barges. He didn’t want a prostitute, doused in strong perfume, pretending affection. He also wasn’t keen to risk a woman stealing his purse in his sleep. Or worse.
“But we’re supposed to be celebrating your return. There’s nothing else left do this time of night.” Mahu smoothed a hand repeatedly over his shaved pate and the braided sidelock on the right side of his head, as if he suspected there were women around now in need of seducing, and his sidelock would make all the difference. The full moon in the cloudless sky cast his large ears and bumpy, over-sized nose in shadowy profile.
Frustration surged as Nehesy. After four years abroad seeking his fortune, getting drunk and sleeping with strange women no longer held the appeal it once had. The same could not be said for his friends, it seemed.
Nehesy dragged himself up to his full, impressive height and looked down at Mahu. “I didn’t come back just to get drunk and whore about. My father is dead. I’m here for his interment, and I’m supposed to be mourning.” Just one moon cycle away, and he’d back to the river and the open seas. He no longer belonged in this place of bitter memories and disappointment, trying to please a man who was no longer alive.
“But you haven’t...”
“Don’t.” Nehesy stopped Mahu with a hand before he could point out that Nehesy had not seen his father in four years, not since the man had disowned him in a spectacular display of rage. “I’m going to sleep on my ship. I promised my sister I wouldn’t wake her and the children by coming in late. Join me or go home, it’s your choice.” Nehesy adjusted his shenti, the linen wrap skirt slung low on his hips, along with the leather purse and knife he always kept strapped to his belt.
“You’re not staying at your mother’s?” Mahu asked, hurrying to keep up as Nehesy strode towards the path that led through the reed thicket, down to the beach, and the dock beyond.
Nehesy cut Mahu a look. “I’ll not sleep in her house.”
“Right, sorry. Just thought what with your father gone-”
“No.” Nehesy’s mother was even less inclined to have him in the house than his father had been.
Mahu followed as they both stumbled over the rocky path running through the papyri rushes. Nehesy muttered that they ought to be more careful lest they startle a poisonous snake. It was not unheard of, either, for a hungry crocodile to lounge in the muck near the shore, waiting for prey. More than a few people had met their demise around the shoreline after dark.
The night remained warm, the sand and pebbles beneath their feet hadn’t cooled with the setting of the sun. A bead of sweat broke out on Nehesy’s bare chest, and he swiped it away with his palm, the gold bangle on his wrist glinting in the moonlight.
Akhet, the season of the flooding, had just begun and the river was high. Inky water was visible beyond the thinning reeds, moonlight reflecting silvery ripples along the surface. The path became increasingly soft and marshy. Mud sucked at their sandals.
“Nehesy, do you think-” Mahu stopped as Nehesy held up a hand.
Further along the path, silhouetted in moonlight, a misshapen figure crept along the spiderweb of docks. A large bump protruded over their right shoulder and upper back – a hunchback, perhaps.
Aside from Nehesy’s own barge, several other ships were moored, along with a multitude of reed fishing skiffs. The figure did not seem to belong to any of these. Rather than striding purposefully to one ship, they appeared to be looking for something. A thief, most likely, on the hunt for leftover merchandise from the shipping barges.
Not a very good thief, either. Garbed in a white robe, with a matching scarf wrapped about their head like a nomadic tribesman, the figure practically glowed beneath the bright moonlight. Their furtive glances and attempts to remain behind the cover of the larger ships only made them more conspicuous.
Nehesy crouched low as he made his stealthy way to the dock, his drink-dulled senses sharpened on instinct.
“Who is it?” Mahu hissed behind him.
“Shhh.”
Another few moments, and Nehesy risked rising to peer at the harbour again. The damned thief was making their way to his barge at the far end of the planks! His ship loomed at least three times the height of the villain. Made of sturdy cedar planks imported from the far north, it was capable of holding twenty rowers plus a hefty amount of merchandise, such as grain and linen, marble, stone, and ivory from the south, and gold from the mines up north. The barge was empty of goods now, but the thief wouldn’t know that.
Nehesy hurried his pace. Behind him, Mahu did the same, but with less productive results. There was the splatter of a body hitting the soggy ground, a grunt, the swishing of rushes, and limbs flailing.
“Shut. Up.” Nehesy glared over his shoulder at his friend thrashing about. Looking back, he saw the figure on the dock turn in their direction, and Nehesy froze in his hunched position, the thief just visible above the line of reeds. Thankfully, Mahu sensed Nehesy’s disquiet and halted his struggles. The reeds around them stilled. In that moment, Nehesy realized how quiet the night had become. Mahu’s bumbling had silenced the frogs’ croaking and the crickets chirruping.
Nehesy held his breath, heart hammering, while the villain scanned the reeds. However, Nehesy wasn’t afraid. In the past four years he’d been in countless fights, most involving men far more experienced with violence than him. But his sister’s husband, Amun, had grown up poor and had taught Nehesy to fight hard and dirty. The short, thin figure on the dock was likely no match for Nehesy’s superior height, long limbs, and strength acquired from hours on deck. The thumping of his heart was no more than the familiar rush of danger and excitement before a fight.
Finally, the night sounds resumed. The thief returned to his course. Nehesy stepped out of the reeds, quickly took the few paces to the planks, and strode onto the dock, cutting off any escape route. Unless, that is, the hunchback chose to risk crocodiles on the hunt and leap into the waters of the great river. Mahu’s footsteps sounded on the dock behind. Good. Two against one now and the crook had nowhere to go.
The hunchback stood before Nehesy’s barge, searching for a means to climb up the hull and bulwark to the deck. Nehesy’s night guards had done their job, however, and pulled up both the plank and rope ladder, leaving no means to ascend.
Nehesy crept up behind the thief, whose hands were now on the hull, as if they thought to somehow scale the vessel. On closer inspection, the thief was slight of build, more likely a boy than a man. His back was not, in fact, hunched, but rather over-burdened by a large sack. As the youth played slender fingers over the hull, Nehesy closed the gap and clamped a hand over the boy’s shoulder.
“Got you,” he snarled, spinning the villain around. But, despite being an inferior criminal, the boy was not unprepared. He came around fists swinging and feet kicking, like a wild animal. Too close to throw a punch, Nehesy tried to wrap his arms around the thief in a tight hug, but the boy was slippery and squirmy. And swearing. Nehesy caught some muffled curses pertaining to a hippopotamus’s arse and donkey’s dung-breath.
Though much sobered by adrenaline, Nehesy’s reactions were still drink-blunted, and the boy succeeded in stomping a sandal-shod heel on Nehesy’s foot.
Nehesy swore and got a hold of the little thief’s upper arms. “Stop it!” He shook the boy hard enough that the scarf wrapped about their head came loose and fluttered to the ground. Freeing a mass of tangled curls in the process.
“Oy!” Mahu shouted. “He’s a girl!” Then, more hopefully, “D’you think she’s a prostitute?”
“Are you?” Nehesy shook the girl – a young woman, he now realized, and not a child – again. It was possible she’d come to his ship looking to sell herself to travelling merchants, but she fought like a street urchin, and not even his own sailors were as proficient with their profanity.
Rather than answer, the woman continued to struggle and swear, landing a blow to his shin with her foot that made him grunt, and grip her even tighter.
A man’s voice came from above. “Everything all right down there?”
“Did you send for a prostitute?” Nehesy spared a glance to the two guards on his barge above.
“No, sir! We know better than to bring a bird on deck.”
The thief took Nehesy’s momentary distraction as a chance to break away. She twisted from his grip and took two steps, but Nehesy grabbed the sack on her back, simultaneously trying to drag her back and twirl her around. She lurched away, pulling him off-balance as her robe tangled about their legs, and suddenly the two of them were weightless. They hit the deck, him on top of her. There was the sound of pottery shattering as the sack landed nearby, and a scented cloud engulfed them. Jasmine, citrus, and something richer and spicier to balance it out, like cinnamon. Something utterly sensual and feminine.
A scent completely at odds with the wildcat sprawled beneath him, cursing him to Ammit and the underworld. And yet, Nehesy couldn’t help but notice that the thief happened to be in possession of a very feminine body. Despite being small in stature, the culprit’s voluminous robe had hidden neat, round breasts and hips, which Nehesy could discern as he happened to land between her spread thighs, her robe pinned between them. Her tempestuous curls had mostly fallen away from her face. As Nehesy reared up, holding her to the ground with his hands at her wrists beside her head, he got his first look at her face.
His breath caught. Glistening moonlight skimmed the curve of a stubborn, pointed little chin, the soft swell of dainty cheekbones, a pert nose, and a bow-shaped mouth that seemed made for mischief, curses, and kisses. He couldn’t glimpse her eyes, shrouded by wild tendrils of curling hair as she cast about for a means of escape and bucked up against him.
A dangerous move, considering that Nehesy’s manhood was nestled against the delicate woman laid out beneath him. And she was delicate, in form at least, for all her wildness. Her wrists were almost fragile in his long-fingered hold, her limbs slim. She reminded Nehesy of a nymphe, the mystical feminine deities the people on the northern side of the great blue sea believed were bound to nature.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said through gritted teeth, “just stop flailing about.”
“Get off, you stinking swine.” The woman’s thrashing pelvis slammed against Nehesy with a force that was not in the least bit seductive. Nehesy swore and quickly adjusted so that he was sitting astride her, causing her to gnash her teeth and struggle even more.
“Need some help down there?” one of the guards called from above.
“No, I’ve... damn it, just stop moving for a moment and let me talk to you!” Nehesy let his weight sink on the thief’s abdomen until she winced. He didn’t want to hurt her, but she wouldn’t stop fighting.
“Is she a prostitute?” Mahu asked again, his feet coming in to view.
The thief turned her face to Mahu, gasping, “Here’s to your prostitute, you rutting donkey.” She spat at him. Mahu leapt out of the way. Unfortunately, he was too close to the edge of the dock. One too many steps backwards sent him balanced precariously on the edge.
“Bollocks!” Mahu’s arms pinwheeled. Nehesy shot out an arm to grab him, snatching a handful of the man’s wrap skirt. Mahu’s skirt slid out from under his belt, and he went legs over head into the river, leaving Nehesy with the scrunched fabric in one hand, and the woman’s shoulder pressed to the dock in the other.
“Ha!” she squawked. “Serves you right, flea-bitten pig’s arse.”
Nehesy dropped Mahu’s skirt while his friend spluttered and dragged himself back onto the dock.
“Are you done yet?” Nehesy leaned over the woman until she finally met his gaze. Those eyes. Tilted upwards at the edges, like a cat, rimmed with long, curling lashes. A shock of recognition went through him. He knew her. He didn’t know how. Surely he’d remember having this ferocious creature in his bed. Likely, he’d still be there now. Or he’d be dead, either from pleasure or being eaten alive by the little hellion.
“Nehesy?” The woman went still, her eyes gone owlishly wide, chest rising and falling in a narrow, erratic fashion. His name had come out on a wheeze, and he realized he must be crushing her. He scrambled back and pulled her to her feet, the movement accompanied by another wave of that alluring, mysterious scent. He kept his hands wrapped around her arms in case she tried to flee.
“So she is a prostitute!” Mahu crowed triumphantly, squeezing water out of his soaked sidelock of hair, water dripping in rivulets down his naked, hairy chest and legs.
Nehesy snapped, “Not every woman I know sells herself for trinkets.”
Mahu responded with a sceptical look but held his tongue as he picked up his wrap skirt and tied it on.
The woman frowned up at Nehesy. “You really don’t recognize me? It’s me. Imi.”
“Sprout?” Horrified, he thrust her away. Then immediately yanked her back and gripped her pointed chin between his thumb and forefinger. He jerked her face up to the moonlight, turning it this way and that until he found what he was looking for. There. The smattering of dark cinnamon freckles across her honey-coloured nose and cheekbones. He’d somehow missed those in their scuffle.
“No.” The word left him in a whoosh, as if the negation could change her identity. And yet it all made sense now. The wildness, the swearing, the delicate figure, the freckles. Of course it was Imi. Or Sprout, as he’d always called her. No other woman in the living world would behave like her.
“Is she-” Mahu began, but at Nehesy’s furious glare he just gestured with his upturned palm at the woman. “You know.”
“Damn it, Mahu, she’s not a prostitute!”
“Then who is she?”
“She’s my betrothed,” Nehesy ground out.
“Not anymore,” Imi said pertly, leaning around Nehesy to address Mahu.
“That’s not the point.” Nehesy gave her a little shake. “What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of the night, Sprout?”
Mahu moved closer, his brow creased in confusion. He still moved with the careful sway of a drunk, his speech still slurred. “When did you get promised, Nehesy? You didn’t say anything. I’d remember, I’m sure.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“We’re not engaged anymore,” Imi added.
For some reason, that made Nehesy angry with her all over again. “You didn’t answer my question, Sprout. What are you doing here?”
“I need you-” before she could finish, Mahu made another triumphant noise, and Nehesy released Imi and turned on his friend with a pointed finger.
“Not another word, Mahu. In fact, you can go now.”
“But...”
“No. Go home. Go back to the tavern. Go get buggered by an elephant. I don’t care. Just go. Now.”
Mahu shook his head doggedly. “I was going to say your ex-betrothed is lovely.” He grinned at Imi, swiping at the droplets still clinging to his face and neck. “Hullo. I’m Mahu, and I’m happy to help you with anything you need.”
The little wretch just gave Mahu a disdainful look, which did nothing to wipe away the adoring expression on his face.
For his part, Nehesy wanted to toss his friend back into the river. Not only because Mahu refused to leave, but because he happened to be staring at Imi as if she was Isis incarnate. Mahu, for all his idiocy, tended to fall for lively, unattainable women. Nehesy’s sister Betrest included. It wasn’t until Betrest married another that Mahu finally gave up his enormous infatuation with her. He had that look about him again, and the last thing Nehesy wanted was to spend the next four years listening to Mahu moon over Imi.
It was not at all because Imi was his former betrothed, or because she happened to now look like a sensual nymphe ripe for bedding. Or the mysterious, alluring cloud of fragrance that still engulfed them. And certainly not because Nehesy’s body distinctly recalled the feel of her laid out beneath him on the dock, writhing against him.
No. This was Sprout. The bane of his existence, the annoying little sister of his former best friend, and – most importantly – the girl his father had arranged for him to marry at birth. An arrangement built on lies and scandal.
“Sir?” The guardsmen had lowered the rope ladder from the barge and were now standing on the dock, warily watching Imi. Nehesy saw the glint of a blade, and knew Imi realized it, too, as her eyes widened again.
“It’s all right,” Nehesy held up a staying hand. “You can go back on board.” He waited until the two men had clambered back up the ship before turning to his former betrothed. “Sprout? Tell me what is going on, or I’m taking you home right now.”
She bit her bottom lip, and for a second Nehesy thought her eyes glistened, but then she blinked rapidly before speaking in a breathy voice, likely still winded from their skirmish. “I can’t go back. I need your help.”
Nehesy rested his forehead in his palm and closed his eyes. Whatever she wanted, it was probably trouble. Trouble followed Imi like a jackal chasing a pack of kittens. She’d trailed after Nehesy and her older brother Altakhsas from the time she could walk, spitting, swearing, playing games, and doing everything she could to keep up with them, usually getting herself in more danger than they themselves. Until the betrothal that had lasted all their young lives came to an end.
Nehesy could turn her away now, but the thought brought an unwelcome tinge of guilt. Altakhsas would have wanted Nehesy to look after Imi, no matter what. Nehesy had disappointed him once and it had ended their friendship. Out of respect for his friend's memory, he wouldn’t do it again. And he certainly owed Imi his protection, at least, for all their years of friendship. Never mind that she possessed deceptively innocent eyes that somehow always managed to drag him along into whatever mischief she’d gotten into.
“Nehesy.”
He knew she’d stepped nearer as that jasmine and cinnamon perfume intensified, and she said, “Please. I need you.” After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “And your ship.”
Mahu interjected, “I have a ship. I mean, it’s my father’s, really, but it doesn’t matter. I’m ready to leave anytime you like. Where are we going?”
Nehesy cut him a silencing look. Imi was proud, she wouldn’t ask for help unless she really needed it. He probed, “Why, Sprout? What’s happened? Where is your father? Or Hamset?” Hamset was a good ten years older than Imi, and not nearly as close as she and Altakhsas had been, but still, he’d been fond enough of Imi.
Imi shifted her weight from foot to foot in a familiar gesture. She’d never been able to stand still, energy vibrated from her small being. She looked away, over the water. “Hamset moved up north two years ago. And Father’s gone. He passed four months ago.”
The news hit Nehesy harder than his own father’s passing. Imi’s father had been kinder to Nehesy than his own had ever been. Not only that, but the man had doted on Imi, letting her run wild, rarely chastising her. It must have been a hard blow to lose him, especially after Altakhsas’s death a few years back. Imi’s mother had died in childbirth, which left Imi with only Hamset, her oldest brother. Who was, apparently, not even around.
Nehesy cleared his throat, which had grown uncomfortably tight. “I’m sorry to hear that. I always liked him.”
This time, he was certain tears welled in Imi’s eyes, but she kept her gaze averted and gave a curt nod. “Yours too. I’m sorry, I mean.”
“Not that you always liked him?” Nehesy couldn’t help but add, his mouth tightening in a grim smile.
“No,” she snorted and shook her head, her long curls tumbling down her back. Somehow, over the years, her voice had acquired a soft, breathy quality to it. He hadn’t noticed it when she’d been hurling curses at him, but it was unmistakable now. She said, “I can’t say I ever liked your father. Not considering the way he treated you.”
Imi turned and the full force of her gaze hit him. A thrill shot through his body. Gods she’d become a beauty. How had that happened? And the sad, pitying expression on her face told him she understood exactly how he felt about the death of his father, and hers. He hated that.
What a strange contrivance of the gods to bring them back together again with the deaths of both their fathers. Even if their passings were months apart and unconnected.
Nehesy frowned. “But why are you here now? Did you do something, Sprout? What sort of trouble are you in this time?”
She had the gall to look affronted, and tossed her mane of hair, eyes flashing. “I didn’t do anything. Father married Ludim’s mother a couple of years ago, and now the cow is trying to force me to marry her ugly donkey of a son. So I’m running away, and I need you,” here she pointed one determined finger at him, “to help me find Hamset.”
“Ludim?” Nehesy repeated, trying to keep up. “Who’s Ludim?”
Mahu put his fingers to his lips in a thoughtful gesture. “D’you mean the same Ludim who rutted against the goats on the grounds of the temple of Hathor?” He said to Nehesy, “The temple priestesses suspected someone had been sneaking in at night and interfering with the poor beasts. The guards finally caught him in the act, with a little black and white billy.”
“Exactly! The goat-buggerer.” Imi threw her hands up. “D’you see what I’m talking about now, Nehesy? I can’t marry him!”
“That Ludim?” Nehesy remembered the young man now, and the thought of Imi married to that idiot made Nehesy want to punch something. Buggering goats was one of the least of Ludim’s offences. “Ra’s nutmegs, I can’t believe your father married his mother. But why do you have to marry Ludim? Didn’t your father leave you an independence or anything?”
Imi glanced away. “It’s... complicated.”
“Sprout.” He prompted her with a warning tone. Despite her tendency towards mischief, Imi had always been a terrible liar, far too emotionally volatile to control her features. Nehesy knew there was something important she wasn’t telling him. While not a nobleman, her father had been a wealthy man. A skilled perfumer, his services had been in demand amongst the nobles of the court, and he owned a large swath of farmland on which he grew his own herbs and flowers for use in his perfumes and incenses. Nehesy couldn’t imagine the man not leaving a decent portion of it to the daughter he doted upon.
Imi shrugged, looking back over the water. “It’s not important. I just need to find Hamset.”
Nehesy suspected there was more to the story, but right now it wasn’t as important as figuring out what to do with her. “I can’t take you to Hamset now. My father’s interment is in a few days’ time, and I came back to Thinis specifically for it. Do you even know where your brother is?”
She chewed her lip, her small chin jutting out stubbornly. “I’ll find him. I know his last place of residence. I’ll start my search there.”
Nehesy couldn’t stop himself from stepping closer to her, taking in that mysterious blend of perfume that swirled around her. “Do you mean he didn’t even come back for your father’s burial?” The ceremony to embalm and entomb her father to ease his passage to the underworld, while not as elaborate as Nehesy’s father’s, would still have been a significant affair.
Imi shrugged again, wrapping her arms around herself as if to ward off a chill. Except that the night was hot, the air heavy and dry. “Ludim’s mother sent messengers. He hasn’t answered.”
Damn. Hamset had always been a bit self-absorbed, but how could he not come back for his father’s burial? Nehesy wanted to take Imi into his arms, to offer her some comfort. But the Imi he remembered would be more likely to punch him than allow a hug.
“I can take you,” Mahu said eagerly, stepping between Nehesy and Imi. “Really, it’s no trouble.”
“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Nehesy shouldered Mahu to the side, despite his friend’s protests.
“I can’t go home,” Imi said belligerently. “I won’t do it, Nehesy. Ludim... he tried to-”
“Tried to what?” Nehesy’s fingers encircled her arms, the need to feel her safe and warm beneath his touch too strong to resist. He’d kill Ludim three times over if he hurt Imi.
Her voice grew hoarse “He came into my room tonight. Onto my bed, the gods-forsaken pig’s arse. He said that I’d be out on the street if I didn’t let him,” she twisted a hand in the air, “you know.”
Mahu made an outraged noise, and Nehesy cursed. “What happened then?”
Imi smirked, though Nehesy felt her tremble. “I kneed him in his smelly little chickpeas and told him if he didn’t leave me alone I’d cut his poker off in his sleep. He left and then I waited until everyone went to bed and ran.”
Ra’s balls. No wonder she’d fought so hard when he’d detained her. He was going to kill Ludim. Later. For now, Imi was safe. Scared, but safe. Nehesy let out the breath he’d been holding and pulled Imi into his arms. He rested his chin on her curls. Thick black curls as soft as the whorls of a baby lamb’s wool. She didn’t fight it, leaning in instead. She fit perfectly, her head just under his chin.
Not for the first time, Nehesy found himself wondering how things might have been different if he’d married Imi when he was supposed to. She wouldn’t be in this situation right now. And he might not have spent the last four years chasing something he’d never get now that his father had passed. Imi wouldn’t have had to worry about an arse like Ludim threatening to hurt her. He and Altakhsas would have stayed friends until the end, and Imi would be curled in his arms every night just like this.
But what was done was done. The question now was what to do next?