The Amulet of Amon-Ra (3 page)

“Yes. As a priest of the first rank, he performs most of the Opening of the Mouth ceremonies for noble mummies,” said Neferhotep.

Mentmose whistled.

“Father—to have a sem priest request our amulets,” he said, his eyes shining.

“And does it not count that I request them all the time?” asked Neferhotep, with a solemn face, but with a twinkle in his eye.

“Well, yes, but you're just Uncle Neferhotep,” said Mentmose.

“And also a newly-minted priest of Amon-Ra,” said Ramose, with a frown at his son, “and therefore deserving of your respect.” He turned to Neferhotep. “When does Ka-Aper want to see my work? I can bring some pieces to the temple.”

Neferhotep winced. “Well, that's the other reason I came by. I told him he could join us for dinner. Here.”

“Here? When?” said Meryt-Re, handing him a bowl.

“Um. Tonight,” he said, sniffing appreciatively.

“Tonight!” said Meryt-Re, her eyes widening. “Well, I suppose. But I'll have to buy some food. I don't really have the right ingredients for a meal with such a noble guest.”

“I can give you a temple papyrus for use at the market,” said Neferhotep, around a mouthful of porridge. “It would entitle you to any goods you may wish to use it for.”

“That would help,” said Meryt-Re. “I could also trade some of the barley cakes I baked this morning. Oh, Neferhotep, must it be tonight?”

He nodded. “It was the only time Ka-Aper had free.” Neferhotep handed her the empty bowl.

“I just don't know,” said Meryt-Re.

“It could advance Ramose's career. And mine, frankly. I told him how good a cook you are, but I don't think he believed me. You could prove it to him.”

“Oh, all right,” said Meryt-Re, absently passing the bowl to Jennifer.

“Tell him we would be honored,” said Ramose, standing straighter.

“Excellent!” said Neferhotep. “Thank you.”

Meryt-Re waved this off, frowning. “We'll have to go to the market as soon as possible, then, if I am to shop. It is later than I like. All the best items will already be gone.”

Jennifer took Neferhotep's empty dish to the washing bowl, remembering to pour water into it, though it hardly needed cleaning. Neferhotep had wiped it bare.

“I wonder what I should make,”said Meryt-Re.

“How about duck?” suggested Ramose, his voice hopeful.

Meryt-Re smiled at him. “I know how you love them, Ramose, but it may not be possible. Meat like that has been scarce lately.”

“Because of the drought, I know,” said Ramose, sighing. “Everything is getting scarce.”

“The Pharaoh is very concerned about it,” said Neferhotep.

“No doubt,” said Meryt-Re, with a slight grimace. “Well. Our bread should be risen by the time we return from shopping. I can bake it then. Come, Dje-Nefer.”

“M-me?” said Jennifer, startled.

“Of course,” said Meryt-Re. “I'll need your help carrying the baskets.” She gestured at a stack of them in one corner of the room.

“I need to go, too,” said Neferhotep. “We are meeting with Parahotep today to discuss his funerary rites. He is almost at his life's end. The doctors can do nothing for him.”

“Is he the one who wants to preserve his brain?” asked Mentmose, smirking.

“Yes,” said Neferhotep, shaking his head. “He has a theory that the brain has a use. Well, at least he is willing to concede that the other organs are more important.” He dug in a pouch that hung from the thin leather strap over his shoulder and handed a small roll of papyrus to Meryt-Re. “Here is a temple chit. It will entitle you to a measure of food.”

“Thank you,” said Meryt-Re, unrolling it. The papyrus was crammed with hieroglyphs. “Are you sure it says what it is supposed to say?”

“It is my own work,” said Neferhotep, with a lift of his chin.

“It's very nice,” she assured him.

“And I almost forgot this, too,” said Neferhotep. “My apologies.”

He pulled something from underneath his leopard skin and gave it to Ramose.

“Ah, yes,” said Ramose. “You showed it to Ka-Aper?”

“Yes. It's why he wanted to see more. He asked if he could keep it, since it is a sign sacred to Amon-Ra, but I had to tell him no.”

“As well,” said Ramose. “I made this for a very special young lady. I was going to wait for your birth anniversary.” He glanced at Meryt-Re, who rolled her eyes.

“Oh, all right,” she said, “but please be quick about it.”

“Can you guess who this is for?” asked Ramose, smiling at Jennifer.

She shook her head, bewildered.

“For my beautiful daughter,” said Ramose. He allowed the item to fall from his hand, where it dangled, spinning in the sunlight.

Jennifer gasped. The amulet!

The scarab amulet! Jennifer's memory flooded back. Grandma Jo—the museum—the tomb painting—the hieroglyphs—the dust inside the amulet, blowing into her face…and the dizzying tumble through the sparkling darkness. Then waking up to find herself…here.

In…

In ancient Egypt.

The amulet had caused her to travel through time.

Jennifer swayed, nearly falling.

“Are you all right?” asked Meryt-Re, steadying her with one hand.

“I'm, uh, fine,” said Jennifer.

“Just tired, I imagine,” said Ramose, smiling fondly at her. “I had to carry her in from the garden last night,” he told Neferhotep. “She was fast asleep, with her head in the herbs. I couldn't even wake her.”

“Truly?” asked Neferhotep. Jennifer glanced at him. He was staring at her with an odd expression. “Were you stargazing again last night?”

“Uh, yes,” she said, remembering what Meryt-Re had mentioned earlier.

“It's all right, Neferhotep,” said Meryt-Re. “You know she's been doing that since she was three years old. Nothing bad has ever happened.”

“I know,” said Neferhotep, sighing. “But I do worry. The Walkers of the Night. . .”

Ramose laughed. “The demons? Oh, Neferhotep.”

“They do exist,” said Neferhotep, solemnly.

“Well, we've never had a problem. Besides, you put protective spells around the garden years ago, and you renew them every year. Nothing could get in.”

“I suppose. And Miw would warn you if one did. It's time I renewed those spells, though.”

“As you wish,” said Ramose.

“We would appreciate that,” said Meryt-Re, with a glance at her husband. “We appreciate everything you do for us. Not everyone has a priest of Amon-Ra in the family.”

Neferhotep shrugged.

“If you are truly worried, then perhaps this will help,” said Ramose, lifting the amulet. He lowered the thong over Jennifer's head, and it settled in front of her chest with a comforting weight. She had recognized it instantly, though in this time it was still bright and clean. She gripped it in her fist. It felt right, like something she had been meant to wear.

“Thank you,” she said to Ramose.

“And look,” he said. “It is not just a heart scarab.” He gestured for her to let go of the amulet. “Do you see the latch? Ah, my clever child. You open it like you already knew how.”

Jennifer pried the amulet open a little way. She hesitated, then held her breath and pulled it apart.

“See?” said Ramose. “It is hollow.”

Jennifer let her breath trickle out. It was empty. She hadn't been sure what would happen when the amulet opened. She ran a finger around the inside, which had been polished smooth.

What had Grandma Jo thought, when she disappeared? Or—maybe she hadn't.

They were calling her ‘Dje-Nefer,' and they didn't seem surprised to see her. Maybe, when she traveled through time, she had somehow ended up in someone else's body—Dje-Nefer's. This body had different skin and hair…perhaps it wasn't her own. She remembered how she had felt when she woke up.

That meant Dje-Nefer could be in her body, back in her own time. She shook her head. No. Forward in her own time. Jennifer shivered, feeling the long black hair brush her shoulders.

“What's the matter, Dje-Nefer?” asked Meryt-Re.

Jennifer looked at her, then at the others. Ramose was still smiling at her. Neferhotep's eyes narrowed, as he watched her.

Should she tell them? That she had traveled through time, and wasn't really Dje-Nefer? She doubted they would believe her. She wasn't sure she entirely believed it herself.

No. They would laugh. They might even think she was some sort of demon, like this Neferhotep fellow was so worried about.

She gave them a weak smile. “Just tired, like you said.”

“Did you dream?” Neferhotep asked abruptly.

“Uh…yes,” said Jennifer, startled into remembering. “There was a man…I think…with a white, uh, crown. Split into two sections.”

Neferhotep's painted eyebrows shot up. “Amon-Ra!”

“There, you see,” said Ramose. “Nothing to worry about. If Amon-Ra is coming to my daughter in her dreams, then she is well-protected. He and this scarab will keep her safe.”

“Well…that is so,” said Neferhotep. Now he looked at Jennifer with an entirely different expression. Thoughtful, even respectful. “Dreams are powerful omens, you know.”

“That's true,” said Meryt-Re, “but if you wish to discuss this any further with Dje-Nefer, it will have to wait, Neferhotep. We must get to the market.”

“Yes, of course,” said Neferhotep. “I didn't mean to delay you. But, if you don't mind—I'd like to offer more protection for your daughter, in the form of a spell. Will you allow me to do that?”

“Certainly,” said Meryt-Re.

“Good. It may take me some weeks to concoct, however,” said Neferhotep. “I will go and return at sunset, with Ka-Aper. May Amon-Ra watch over you all.”

He bowed and left the kitchen. Ramose followed, then came back alone.

“Now,” said Meryt-Re, business-like, “we must get going. Mentmose, I need you to go to the river and fill the water jar.”

Mentmose scowled. “But father was going to show me how to make tjehnet today.”

“It will have to wait. I will probably need your help this afternoon to do the cooking, too.”

“But,” said Mentmose. “Oh, all right.”

Ramose clapped him on the shoulder. “We would need more water to make the paste anyway. Help your mother today. We can grind the turquoise and the clay for the tjehnet tomorrow. Besides, it might be wise for you to learn some cooking skills.”

“That's for girls,” scoffed Mentmose.

“Yes, but it is still worth learning,” said Ramose. “Now I must be off to my workshop to choose which pieces I should present to the honorable Ka-Aper.”

Mentmose sighed. Hefting the water jug onto his hip, he headed for the doorway.

“I think we'll take two baskets,” said Meryt-Re. “I'll carry one and you can carry the other, Dje-Nefer.”

She plucked two woven baskets out of the pile, one of which she had slung over her arm. She handed the other to Jennifer. Meryt-Re rummaged on the shelves and proceeded to fill her basket with several flat round pastries that looked something like cinnamon buns.

“There. We can go now,” said Meryt-Re. “Oh, wait—why haven't you put any kohl on your eyes yet? Oh, never mind. I'll get some.”

She left, and Jennifer could hear her trotting up the stairs. It was only a minute before she was back, carrying a small clay pot and a brush. With quick, expert strokes, she outlined Jennifer's eyes with a sticky black paint. It dried instantly, but itched. Jennifer had to stop herself from rubbing at it.

“Don't you smudge that,” said Meryt-Re, holding up a warning hand. “All right, let's go.”

She picked up her basket, and Jennifer followed her into the larger room, which had a wide wooden door set into one wall. As she opened it, a blast of noise from the street poured into the room.

People streamed past in both directions. Most of them wore Egyptian-style outfits like Ramose and Meryt-Re, but there were also men and women wearing baggy tunics and head scarves, or outfits of gaudy fabric wrapped around their bodies, or short woolen kilts and vests. Some even wore shining helmets and pieces of armor. A group of children ran by, all of them naked. The boys' heads were shaved bald, except for one long lock that dangled from the right side.

As she and Meryt-Re stepped outside, Jennifer blinked in the bright sunlight. It nearly blinded her after the cool darkness of the house.

The sweat that trickled down Jennifer's sides in the intense heat dried almost as soon as it formed, too quickly to wet the fabric of the dress. She thought she now understood why the ancient Egyptians wore such loose, light clothing, and briefly envied the naked children. She licked dry lips, feeling like she was turning into a mummy on the spot.

Jennifer tried to keep up with Meryt-Re's purposeful strides. Her bare feet slapped the paved road, sending up tiny puffs of dust from between the stones. Sand filled the cracks and mounded up in miniature dunes against the edges of the tall buildings surrounding them.

The buildings were covered from top to bottom in hieroglyphs and brightly-painted reliefs of people, animals and gods. They weren't as nice as the ones inside Dje-Nefer's house, she decided.

On one building, a giant mural of a god with the head of a bird dominated the wall. The bird's beak curved gracefully downwards, and he held a scroll in one open hand. From a door near the base, a man wearing a white kilt and a thin leather strap that lay diagonally across his chest led a single file of identically dressed boys of different ages away down the street. Jennifer realized that the bird-headed god must be Thoth, the patron of scribes, and that the building had to be a school.

Jennifer frowned. “Shouldn't I be in school, too?” she asked.

Meryt-Re groaned. “You're not going to start that again, are you? Mentmose had his few years, but I thought we established long ago that girls do not go to school, Dje-Nefer.” Meryt-Re threw Jennifer an exasperated look. “No matter how much they nag their mothers.”

“Sorry,” Jennifer mumbled.

Meryt-Re shook her head and strode away. Jennifer hurried to catch up with her. Hundreds of people filled the street, some strolling, others walking more quickly, although no one was foolish enough to run in the relentless heat. Meryt-Re threaded herself easily through the crowd. Jennifer tried to stay as close as possible to her. Once, Meryt-Re grabbed her arm to pull her closer, and they both ended up squeezed against the side of a building as four men carrying a richly-decorated sedan chair trotted by. A man wearing a striped headcloth sat regally under the canopy, looking bored. Jennifer couldn't help staring after him. Meryt-Re gently towed her away.

The market, which they reached in a remarkably short time, was even more crowded than the street. People here, however, were in no hurry. They meandered from booth to booth, stopping to chat with the vendors, to inspect the goods, and to buy. Jennifer gaped at the number and variety of items for sale. It was a riot of noise and color.

Bright awnings shaded untidy piles of ceramic pots at one booth and precise stacks of bronze plates at another. Across from them, mounds of baskets gave way to heaps of clay oil lamps. Further away, fabric pinned on a striped awning fought for space beside complete outfits, their beads sparkling in the sun, while long poles laid horizontally across tables dripped with glittering jewelry. And all around was noise, the sound of people talking, laughing, arguing, shouting, and even singing.

The market was a maze. Instead of being lined up in neat rows, the booths were spread out in no particular order, as if it had just grown there, like some strange garden. Meryt-Re seemed to know exactly where she was going, though. They twisted and turned, going first one way, then the other, swerving around a clump of jumbled booths, only to go back in almost the same direction they had come from. Meryt-Re walked steadily onwards, ignoring the shouts of the vendors, who held items out to her. Jennifer jogged beside her, staying close.

At last, Meryt-Re stopped at a tent held up at the four corners by long poles that slanted outwards, stretching the striped fabric taut. The awning shaded dozens of woven baskets, and a skinny man who sat cross-legged in the middle. Jennifer wrinkled her nose at the smell rising from the baskets. Flies bigger than she had ever seen in her life buzzed around, swooping in and out of the tent. Waving them away, she peered into one of the baskets. A few glassy-eyed fish stared back at her.

“Good morning, Seneb,” said Meryt-Re. “What do you have today?”

“Finest catfish and perch,” said Seneb, smiling at her. He was missing several teeth, Jennifer noticed. “I just caught them this morning.”

Jennifer doubted that. Maybe it was the heat, but the fish sure smelled like they'd been out of the water longer than Seneb claimed. And frankly, he needed a bath, too. Jennifer breathed through her mouth as he lifted an arm and waved it at his stock.

“You won't find better anywhere else,” he claimed.

Despite the heat and the fishy reek, Meryt-Re took her time examining the fish, inspecting each part, perhaps trying to find one that was actually fresh. Finally, she chose one that didn't look too bad, and picked it up, sliding her fingers under its gills.

“Will you take one of my barley cakes for this?” she asked.

“Your barley cakes are among the finest in the city, Meryt-Re. But only one?” Seneb put his hand over his heart and arranged his face into a sad expression. “Dear lady, you wound me.”

“It is not a very big fish, Seneb,” said Meryt-Re. “I have seen far larger ones at your booth in the past.”

“Alas, they are no longer to be found. It is the drought,” said Seneb. “It has made everything scarce. Even the fish have deserted us for more hospitable areas. I assure you, these fine specimens were caught with considerable effort on my part. I cannot let them go for less than five cakes each.”