10. Ancient Egypt

CHAPTER TEN

ANCIENT EGYPT

DJAU

T he night is cool, and the breeze tugs at my cloak as I make my way to the opening of the cave. It's little more than a crack in the rock face, though it eventually widens out, making it the perfect hiding place. I slide in, creeping deeper, and once I am deep enough, I see the flicker of an oil lamp.

Ay is already digging in the sand to bury the gold and jewels. He glances up as if sensing me enter and gives me a nod. "It was a good haul."

We don't desecrate the tomb, and we don't take everything. The scribe only wants gold, so that is all we take.

I walk over and kiss him on the neck, the highest part of him I can reach. He tastes of sweat and sand, and I want more than a kiss, though that is not why we are meeting.

"You were safe?" I crouch and peer into the two bags resting on the sand,

"Always."

Ay crouches next to me and pulls a golden statuette out of a bag. "I saw this and thought of you. It's much finer than anything I can make you. "

It is a statuette of Bast, a little smaller than mine, and made of gold and far more detailed. I cannot melt this down. "She is beautiful." I place my hand on his cheek. "Though not as beautiful as you. Nor was she created with the love you placed in the one you made."

While the golden Bast is a treasure, the one Ay carved will always have a place in my heart. I am not foolish enough to trade love for gold.

In the flickering light, the eyeliner makes his eyes darker, and I want nothing more than to drop to my knees and show my devotion. But we do not stop for pleasure when working.

I mark off the objects from the list the scribe gave me. There is always a list of burial goods. Sometimes, he requests specific items—perhaps with a buyer in mind; other times, I mark off what has been acquired. Sometimes, someone has been there before us, and there isn't much left.

I do not mark Bast. I place her in a special pocket in my cloak. But if I cannot melt her, I will need something else so I can add to our funds.

As if knowing what I am thinking, Ay pulls something else out of the bag. "The lapis will fetch a good price, yes?" He hands me an armband. It's thick and heavy and far too pretty to spend eternity buried.

Or to be pulled apart.

Yet that is what I must do. It is transportable and heavy enough to make it worthwhile. I nod and slide it up my arm as though I am a wealthy noble.

Ay smiles, and his eyes darken. "It looks good on you. Perhaps you should wear it with me just once."

That would be another rule broken. I do not keep stolen goods in my house. Which also gives me a golden Bast-sized problem since I cannot bear to see her destroyed. Perhaps I will hide her inside a jar. A secret shrine.

He cups my chin and leans in to kiss me. The kind that hints he'd be willing to bend the rules this once. We are growing tired of sips and want to feast. His thigh presses between mine, and I grind against it, desperate and aching for the touch of his rough hands on my cock.

Ay freezes, his tongue in my mouth. His gaze at the entrance.

In one smooth, feline move, he releases me, picks up the shovel, and extinguishes the lamp. As if he can see in the dark, he grabs me and pulls me close. His breath ghosts over my ear. "If you see a chance, run."

My ears strain for noises.

At first, it's only my heartbeat echoing in my ears and off the rock walls. Then, just as I am about to suggest his nerves have led him astray, I hear it. Soft feet on sand. The bump of metal on rock.

There's more than one.

We were not careful enough. My heart sinks far heavier than a feather. We are doomed. I cannot ask Ay to kill.

I squeeze his hand, and he returns the gesture. Could we have left the city with less and made do? Did I miscalculate and grow greedy because I am used to living as a priest while he is used to fewer luxuries?

Light bounces off the entrance walls.

Perhaps they do not know we are here, and they are thieves seeking to hide their own spoils, and it is bad timing for us both to be here.

Or perhaps they are coming to steal ours.

Ay releases my hand. As the first man steps through carrying an oil lamp—a soldier from his weapon— Ay charges at him. The man barely has time to lift his sword before he falls, having taken a shovel to the head.

The oil lamp spills, and flames lick over the sand.

The second soldier exits the narrow gap, jabbing a spear at Ay to keep him back. His efforts enable a third and fourth soldier to enter. Ay backs up, but the fire is behind him, and there is nowhere for him to go.

"Been robbing the tombs?" The soldier with the spear hits Ay on the back of his legs. "Kneel."

Ay does.

I press my hand over my mouth, not knowing what to do. Perhaps I am invisible in the shadows, but I doubt it. I am not a threat to the soldiers. I am not big or strong like my love.

A fifth man emerges, and rage floods my veins. The scribe. A thousand curses on his name and his descendants. May insects hunger for a taste of their blood, and their souls know no rest.

The scribe squints, taking in the scene. "You have been busy, priest."

I lower my hand and give a little bow. "At your request."

"Me? I am a loyal scribe. Your fraternization with the stonemason has corrupted you." He grins as though he has outsmarted me. "I have been told of the many ways you lie with him. Though I confess, it took me several months to uncover how this operation worked."

"It did work," I agree. He's gotten richer on Ay's risks. Why did I agree to this job instead of leaving? My greed has brought us down. My gaze flicks to Ay, still on his knees, his face impassive. "Why now?"

That grin again. I hate dealing with the scribe, but I need him to sell the items in the same way he needs me to liaise with Ay. That doesn't stop me from praying for the crocodiles to eat his lips and women and children to run from his mutilated visage.

"Because it's time to remove the deadweight," the scribe says.

"Deadweight?" We are all essential to this operation.

"You."