House of Illusions Read Free Page A

worship or hire workmen. She may be harmless but she is as irritating as a cloud of flies. Did she mention hot soup?”
    Full dark had fallen by the time she came to us almost soundlessly, appearing out of the dense shadows and pacing into the flickering orange light of the fire like some barbaric priestess, her hair, now freed from the hemp, rioting about her head and waving on her breast. She had changed her shift, I noticed, but the one she now wore was no less crude than the garment in which she had been washing the temple floor, and she was still bare-footed. She bore a tray which she set ceremoniously before us on the collapsible table my Herald had called for earlier from the boat. Bowing to him, she then lifted the lid from a pot and proceeded to ladle a savory-smelling soup into two smaller bowls. Beside them were dishes of fresh barley bread and date cakes and, best of all, a flagon of beer. Her movements were graceful and delicate. She offered the soup first to the Herald and then to me with head bowed, both hands around each bowl, and as we began to spoon up the admittedly delicious broth, she poured the beer and unfolded two spotless linen squares which she placed carefully and unobtrusively on our naked knees. Stepping back, she stood with her arms at her sides as we demolished the food, coming forward only to refill our cups or remove the empty plates, and I wondered as I ate if perhaps she had been a servant in the home of some local dignitary, or if the Chief Priest of Wepwawet, a peasant himself but of necessity more highly educated than his neighbours, had taught her how to behave. At last the dishes were piled on the tray and covered with the now soiled linen and my Herald sighed and shifted on his stool.
    “Thank you,” he said gruffly and, I thought, grudgingly. At his words the woman smiled. Her mouth parted to reveal even white teeth that glinted briefly in the light of the fire and I realized suddenly that she was beautiful. The dimness hid her chafed hands, the fine lines around those strange eyes, the dull dryness of her wild hair, and I stared at her boldly for a moment. Her gaze rested on me, then returned to my Lord.
    “We have met before, Royal Herald May,” she said softly. “You and your entourage put in here last year when your skiff was holed. What news from the Delta?”
    “No news,” May replied stiffly. “I am returning to Pi-Ramses from the south. I have been away for several weeks.” Her smile widened.
    “And of course momentous events may have taken place in the north of which you are unaware,” she chided him with mock solemnity. “Therefore you can give me no news. Or is it that you do not wish to encourage me in conversation? I have fed you, Royal Herald May. In return, could I not sit here in the sand and enjoy your company for a while?” She did not wait for permission. Sliding to the earth, she crossed her legs and settled her shift across her lap, and I was reminded of how the scribe in my father’s household would sink to the floor and use just such gestures to place his palette on his knees in order to take the dictation.
    “I have nothing to say to you, woman!” May snapped. “The food was very welcome and for that I have already thanked you. There is nothing happening in Pi-Ramses that could be of the slightest interest to someone such as yourself, I assure you.”
    “I have embarrassed him,” she said, turning her face to me. “This mighty Herald. I embarrass them all, the important men who hurry up and down the river and curse when they are flung upon the barren shore at Aswat because they know that I will immediately seek them out. It does not seem to occur to them that I might embarrass myself in the process. But you, young officer with the handsome dark eyes, I have not had the pleasure of meeting you before. What is your name?”
    “I am Kamen,” I answered her, with a rush of unworthy fear that she was about to make her insane request to me. I