Jennifer Colgan: The Concubine’s Tale

“Why are you telling me this?” Nayari’s voice rose, and the acolyte hushed her again with a nervous glance at the door. “This can’t be true.”

“It is what I heard. I’m telling you because I’ve heard tales of this wizard. He’s called Benak-Ra, and he is an enemy of Pharaoh.”

“An enemy of Seti?”

“As is Ammonptah.”

“That’s impossible! Ammonptah loves Pharaoh. They are brothers.”

“They are rivals. Ammonptah wishes to unseat Seti and has engaged Benak-Ra to cast a spell.”

“How do you know all this? You’re merely a temple servant.” Nayari’s heart lurched in her chest. She clutched at her stomach to still the urge to slap the insolent woman. This had to be a trick, a test perhaps to force Nayari to denounce her master.

“I’m loyal to Pharaoh. I will not help Ammonptah steal his throne. I’m giving you a chance to escape and disappear. If the offering your master makes to the wizard is not here when he arrives, there will be no spell.”

“Surely the gods will protect Pharaoh from Benak-Ra.” Of course they would. He was their chosen son, after all.

“Perhaps the gods act through me. I am telling you, little one. Go while you can and save yourself. Benak-Ra is a cruel master, and when his plot is uncovered, all who are with him will die.” The woman said no more. She slipped out of the room, leaving the reed mat swinging behind her. Nayari only stared, shocked and terribly frightened. It all had to be a trick. If she ran away from Ammonptah her punishment would be severe. But if she ran away from Benak-Ra…

Finally, Nayari found the strength to move across the room. She looked out into the empty corridor. Where had her nameless warrior gone? Why had he abandoned her? Would the other acolytes be coming soon to take her to the room below the temple and keep her prisoner?

She had to make her decision now. Run for her life on the word of an acolyte, or remain, loyal and faithful to her master until he was her master no longer.

Nayari ran.

“How about a glass of wine instead of coffee?” Cait asked.

Grant felt as though he’d been snapped back through time-a journey of over three thousand years in the span of a heartbeat. “Wine sounds great.”

He watched her rise from the couch, unfolding her long legs, and he counted those pearl buttons on her blouse. Six. He imagined sliding them through the buttonholes in the shimmery silk and discovering what treasures lay beneath.

He turned to watch her cross to the kitchenette. She kicked off her shoes in a fluid motion, leaving her a few inches shorter.

“Do you need help with the cork?” he asked with a grin when she set two crystal goblets on the open counter.

She gave him a mischievous look, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised. “If you want wine with a cork, you’re in the wrong neighborhood, Mr. Pierson. This is screw-top wine.”

“Ah.” He rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. “I had no idea this was screw-top territory. What about your coq au vin?”

“For that, I use the good stuff. You’ll have to wait until I invite you for dinner.”

“How long will I have to wait?”

Cait poured a blush-pink wine into the glasses and carried them back to the couch in her cupped hands. “Quite a while, I’m afraid. I’m not allowed to date clients.”

He tasted the sweet wine and pursed his lips. “In that case, how about Friday?”

“I can’t. Besides, I have appointments with clients. Other people are interested in the scroll, and I’ve got to show it to them.”

He frowned. “They don’t get a guided tour of the translation in Layton ’s journals, do they?” Why on earth would he feel a surge of jealousy? Because he wanted the scroll so badly? Or because he didn’t like the thought of another man hearing Nayari’s sensual tale from Cait’s lips?

“No. They get a fax of the synopsis.”

“Good. Now, let’s get back to it. Tell me a little more about Benak-Ra.”

“There’s not much in the journals about him except speculation. He may have been a well-known magician of the time working under a false name to keep his dealings with Ammonptah secret. Defying the Pharaoh was a dangerous proposition, of course, so he must have thought he had a powerful spell. The price was certainly high enough.”

“Nayari’s life.”

“Along with other things, I’m sure. Taking on a concubine would have meant an added expense for the magician, even if he was already a wealthy man. Likely Ammonptah offered him a political position as well, payment he could collect only if his magic worked.”

“And I have a feeling it wasn’t going to.”

“It seemed there was already a network of loyalists in place to protect Seti II’s throne. Ammonptah had no idea he’d sent Nayari right into their arms.”

“And into Khanu’s.”

“Literally, at this point.”

Khanu’s heart clenched at the spectacle that met him when he returned from the courtyard. The sight of Nayari lying limp in the arms of one of the priests nearly sent him to his knees.

“What have you done to her?” He didn’t wait for a reply but scooped her fragile body into his arms. The other priest bowed and backed up a step.

“I had to stop her from escaping. I found her scurrying through the back corridor searching for a way out through our chambers.”

“You had no right to injure her. You should have called me.” Khanu swung Nayari around and headed for her room.

“This way, warrior. We’ll take her to a room below where she won’t escape so easily.”

Khanu hesitated. He looked down at her face, so beautiful in this artificial sleep. Her shallow breathing worried him.

“What did you do to her?”

“A balm to make her sleep.”

Khanu growled. She’d be groggy and sick when she awoke. Grudgingly, he followed the priest to a dark flight of stone stairs. He squeezed his broad shoulders through a narrow door and set Nayari on a small cot in a windowless chamber lit only by a torch in a sconce on the wall.

“Bring water.” He cradled her head in the crook of his arm. “Then stay out of my sight.”

“Of course.” The priest bowed out of the room, and Khanu indulged in a curse upon the man’s family ten generations to come. Why would she try to escape? Surely the priest was mistaken. As the dutiful concubine of the magistrate, it should have been her pleasure to await the arrival of Ammonptah.

She lay in his arms, her face a portrait of innocence. He brushed her lustrous hair from her brow and pressed the back of his hand to her fevered skin. What would Ammonptah do if he found her thus?

The priest returned with a bowl of water and a cloth, and Khanu glared at him. “Post a guard at the temple gate. Enemies of Ammonptah are everywhere it seems.” Even in this room, he added silently.

Once the priest had gone, Khanu tended to Nayari. Drops of cool water squeezed from the cloth onto her head roused her slightly, and she moaned.

“You’re safe,” he said when her eyes fluttered open. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes blank. Then she surged upward, fear clouding her expression. She screamed once-a short, tortured sound that Khanu cut off by clamping a hand over her mouth. She struggled in his arms, and he hushed her, rocking her against his chest.

“No, I’m not.” Her voice trembled as she recounted what the acolyte had told her.

Khanu had heard the name Benak-Ra before. He’d seen tales of the man’s cruelty strike fear in the hearts of many seasoned warriors. A fragile creature such as Nayari would wither at his hands.

His loyalty to Ammonptah dissolved as she finished telling him about the plot to unseat Pharaoh. “I will not let them give you to the wizard.”