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Nafretiri didn't know what to believe anymore. She only knew that she had recently found out she was expecting, and she was frightened, alone, and unexpectedly free. She had no money and nowhere to go. and she'd tried to take shelter in a temple or two, but Sekhmet was too warlike and Isis- the goddess of motherhood- was also, ironically, the goddess of the dead.
Now, who would have thought that was possible? She supposed motherhood and death did go hand in hand. Look how close her own mother had come to dying at her birth! But it wasn't exactly a comforting thought to think about death when one wanted to live.
Not that Nafretiri actually thought she had that much to live for. Raising a child alone with no friends or family nearby would be nearly impossible, and the fact that she'd never have been able to marry if she had been able to go home to Judea meant that she would probably live with her horrible memories of the baby's conception for the rest of her life, with no romantic and tender experience, like she'd wanted before all this, to wipe them away.
No love...all because Hebrew men were raised to only want virgins. All because of a stupid book of laws that her father would say were mostly made up of the opinions of people who thought they were better than everyone else.
Her dreams- such as they could be in a society that was so restricted like Judea- were a lot to have been forced to give up. But still, a baby was something that would be hers when before she had had nothing. And maybe here in Egypt with time, she could regain the others. Love. A home of her own. Real friends. Acceptance. All of which, except from her father and cousins, she'd never really had. Maybe there were other things she could do, too, if she got established on the right foot. She'd always been good at the simple math her father had taught her. Maybe she could make healing potions and ointments. Those required measuring.
But now the night was cold and she had nothing warm on and she'd been walking all day, as she had ever since the day her former mistress had been informed about the baby. She was thirsty, too. Besides all that, it was dark down here, and the fact that the pyramids were used as tombs seemed scarier tonight, as if it was a night when all the spirits of the dead visited each other.
And El Shaddai had remained silent. He had not protected her. He had just let him.... She gulped.
Just like He'd also let her get kidnapped, in front of her father no less.
Just like He'd made her a woman later than the few friends she had. Just like He'd allowed the siege.
Were the gods of Egypt seemingly incompetent, too? As the wind whistled through the sand and she coughed violently, almost stopping the breathing process entirely, she fervently hoped not.
"Send someone... to help me out of this valley... please!" she wheezed at the sparkling stars. She coughed again and finally collapsed against a rock, unable to go further.
She didn't even know what god she was calling to. Isis and Sekhmet had frightened her badly, so she hoped it was neither of them who answered. But she wanted someone to.
Even just another human being.
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Nafretiri didn't know what to believe anymore. She only knew that she had recently found out she was expecting, and she was frightened, alone, and unexpectedly free. She had no money and nowhere to go. and she'd tried to take shelter in a temple or two, but Sekhmet was too warlike and Isis- the goddess of motherhood- was also, ironically, the goddess of the dead.
Now, who would have thought that was possible? She supposed motherhood and death did go hand in hand. Look how close her own mother had come to dying at her birth! But it wasn't exactly a comforting thought to think about death when one wanted to live.
Not that Nafretiri actually thought she had that much to live for. Raising a child alone with no friends or family nearby would be nearly impossible, and the fact that she'd never have been able to marry if she had been able to go home to Judea meant that she would probably live with her horrible memories of the baby's conception for the rest of her life, with no romantic and tender experience, like she'd wanted before all this, to wipe them away.
No love...all because Hebrew men were raised to only want virgins. All because of a stupid book of laws that her father would say were mostly made up of the opinions of people who thought they were better than everyone else.
Her dreams- such as they could be in a society that was so restricted like Judea- were a lot to have been forced to give up. But still, a baby was something that would be hers when before she had had nothing. And maybe here in Egypt with time, she could regain the others. Love. A home of her own. Real friends. Acceptance. All of which, except from her father and cousins, she'd never really had. Maybe there were other things she could do, too, if she got established on the right foot. She'd always been good at the simple math her father had taught her. Maybe she could make healing potions and ointments. Those required measuring.
But now the night was cold and she had nothing warm on and she'd been walking all day, as she had ever since the day her former mistress had been informed about the baby. She was thirsty, too. Besides all that, it was dark down here, and the fact that the pyramids were used as tombs seemed scarier tonight, as if it was a night when all the spirits of the dead visited each other.
And El Shaddai had remained silent. He had not protected her. He had just let him.... She gulped.
Just like He'd also let her get kidnapped, in front of her father no less.
Just like He'd made her a woman later than the few friends she had. Just like He'd allowed the siege.
Were the gods of Egypt seemingly incompetent, too? As the wind whistled through the sand and she coughed violently, almost stopping the breathing process entirely, she fervently hoped not.
"Send someone... to help me out of this valley... please!" she wheezed at the sparkling stars. She coughed again and finally collapsed against a rock, unable to go further.
She didn't even know what god she was calling to. Isis and Sekhmet had frightened her badly, so she hoped it was neither of them who answered. But she wanted someone to.
Even just another human being.
Nafretiri didn't know what to believe anymore. She only knew that she had recently found out she was expecting, and she was frightened, alone, and unexpectedly free. She had no money and nowhere to go. and she'd tried to take shelter in a temple or two, but Sekhmet was too warlike and Isis- the goddess of motherhood- was also, ironically, the goddess of the dead.
Now, who would have thought that was possible? She supposed motherhood and death did go hand in hand. Look how close her own mother had come to dying at her birth! But it wasn't exactly a comforting thought to think about death when one wanted to live.
Not that Nafretiri actually thought she had that much to live for. Raising a child alone with no friends or family nearby would be nearly impossible, and the fact that she'd never have been able to marry if she had been able to go home to Judea meant that she would probably live with her horrible memories of the baby's conception for the rest of her life, with no romantic and tender experience, like she'd wanted before all this, to wipe them away.
No love...all because Hebrew men were raised to only want virgins. All because of a stupid book of laws that her father would say were mostly made up of the opinions of people who thought they were better than everyone else.
Her dreams- such as they could be in a society that was so restricted like Judea- were a lot to have been forced to give up. But still, a baby was something that would be hers when before she had had nothing. And maybe here in Egypt with time, she could regain the others. Love. A home of her own. Real friends. Acceptance. All of which, except from her father and cousins, she'd never really had. Maybe there were other things she could do, too, if she got established on the right foot. She'd always been good at the simple math her father had taught her. Maybe she could make healing potions and ointments. Those required measuring.
But now the night was cold and she had nothing warm on and she'd been walking all day, as she had ever since the day her former mistress had been informed about the baby. She was thirsty, too. Besides all that, it was dark down here, and the fact that the pyramids were used as tombs seemed scarier tonight, as if it was a night when all the spirits of the dead visited each other.
And El Shaddai had remained silent. He had not protected her. He had just let him.... She gulped.
Just like He'd also let her get kidnapped, in front of her father no less.
Just like He'd made her a woman later than the few friends she had. Just like He'd allowed the siege.
Were the gods of Egypt seemingly incompetent, too? As the wind whistled through the sand and she coughed violently, almost stopping the breathing process entirely, she fervently hoped not.
"Send someone... to help me out of this valley... please!" she wheezed at the sparkling stars. She coughed again and finally collapsed against a rock, unable to go further.
She didn't even know what god she was calling to. Isis and Sekhmet had frightened her badly, so she hoped it was neither of them who answered. But she wanted someone to.
Even just another human being.
This was not a great place to be, really. The Egyptians were not terribly forgiving of anyone who trespassed in Valley of Kings, and while Mwenye was fairly certain he wasn't quite in the forbidden area yet, he didn't expect any guards to accept his opinion on where the border was. But the loudest of his ancestors, the one he didn't dare disobey, had sent him here, so he had little choice but to trust the ancestors would keep him safe so that he could complete whatever task they needed from him.
He paused at the top of a dune to look around, knowing that he was providing anyone watching the very distinct silhouette against the moon of a beodin man sitting atop his camel, but it was a vantage point that let him see farthest as well. The quietly insistent voice in his head did not get louder when he stopped, and so he took the time to look around carefully. His eyes lit upon a figure trudging across the sand, clearly not knowing enough not to walk in the deep valleys of the dunes where the sand was picked up highest by the wind, and not dressed particularly practically for the open desert. A woman?
Silence.
Well, then. That was that.
Mwenye angled his camel towards the stranger, coming to a stop beside her and looking down thoughtfully.
"Good evening," he spoke in accented coptic. "I don't suppose you know why my ancestors sent me to find you?"
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This was not a great place to be, really. The Egyptians were not terribly forgiving of anyone who trespassed in Valley of Kings, and while Mwenye was fairly certain he wasn't quite in the forbidden area yet, he didn't expect any guards to accept his opinion on where the border was. But the loudest of his ancestors, the one he didn't dare disobey, had sent him here, so he had little choice but to trust the ancestors would keep him safe so that he could complete whatever task they needed from him.
He paused at the top of a dune to look around, knowing that he was providing anyone watching the very distinct silhouette against the moon of a beodin man sitting atop his camel, but it was a vantage point that let him see farthest as well. The quietly insistent voice in his head did not get louder when he stopped, and so he took the time to look around carefully. His eyes lit upon a figure trudging across the sand, clearly not knowing enough not to walk in the deep valleys of the dunes where the sand was picked up highest by the wind, and not dressed particularly practically for the open desert. A woman?
Silence.
Well, then. That was that.
Mwenye angled his camel towards the stranger, coming to a stop beside her and looking down thoughtfully.
"Good evening," he spoke in accented coptic. "I don't suppose you know why my ancestors sent me to find you?"
This was not a great place to be, really. The Egyptians were not terribly forgiving of anyone who trespassed in Valley of Kings, and while Mwenye was fairly certain he wasn't quite in the forbidden area yet, he didn't expect any guards to accept his opinion on where the border was. But the loudest of his ancestors, the one he didn't dare disobey, had sent him here, so he had little choice but to trust the ancestors would keep him safe so that he could complete whatever task they needed from him.
He paused at the top of a dune to look around, knowing that he was providing anyone watching the very distinct silhouette against the moon of a beodin man sitting atop his camel, but it was a vantage point that let him see farthest as well. The quietly insistent voice in his head did not get louder when he stopped, and so he took the time to look around carefully. His eyes lit upon a figure trudging across the sand, clearly not knowing enough not to walk in the deep valleys of the dunes where the sand was picked up highest by the wind, and not dressed particularly practically for the open desert. A woman?
Silence.
Well, then. That was that.
Mwenye angled his camel towards the stranger, coming to a stop beside her and looking down thoughtfully.
"Good evening," he spoke in accented coptic. "I don't suppose you know why my ancestors sent me to find you?"
Nafretiri coughed again, trying vainly to clear her throat. It didn't help; the action of opening her mouth only served to make her sneeze. "Um..." she croaked. "I don't know, but thank them for me. I appear to be very lost. I've heard there is a temple somewhere not far from here, and am trying to get to it. But I'm a bit night-blind, and also seem to have some type of...achoo!" Nafretiri sneezed again, then sniffled. She hoped she didn't have snot all over her face! Then again, did it really matter? How far could any one human being see in the dark? Then again, the man had said something about his ancestors sending him to find her. Perhaps prophets of that sort had magical powers that enabled them to see in the dark when others couldn't do so. Who could say? She blushed at the thought that he would see her looking so... she vacillated between the words unladylike and human, but both seemed to fit. It was unladylike the way she could feel her nose running, but human to sneeze.
While she couldn't quite understand some of what he said- she had not met anyone thus far who participated in ancestor worship- she was not ungrateful. The night was still so cold, and the air seemed a little less filled with demons now that someone was here to talk to. Or perhaps his voice had shut them up.
"Tell me something, if you can. If it's true that your ancestors have sent you here, are there spirits that roam these desert lands? It certainly seems so, if this valley is full of tombs as they say, though it didn't seem so frightening crossing the desert in the daytime. But there is no other way to that temple that I can see, either. Also, might you know which god or goddess it is dedicated to?"
It was a few minutes of silence later that Nafretiri realized she had not told him her name, but though he seemed safe enough from his voice, she was unsure if he might know the Hei she had been freed from, and she didn't want Badru of Thebes getting wind that she was gone. He might come looking, and Nafretiri was nowhere close to being prepared for that, having nothing with which to disguise herself. Still, she ought to tell him something if he was going to help her....
"Please forgive me. I have not told you my name because I may be in danger. But my name is Nafretiri, and I swear, if there were any way to have avoided being out here, especially at this time of night, I would have."
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Nafretiri coughed again, trying vainly to clear her throat. It didn't help; the action of opening her mouth only served to make her sneeze. "Um..." she croaked. "I don't know, but thank them for me. I appear to be very lost. I've heard there is a temple somewhere not far from here, and am trying to get to it. But I'm a bit night-blind, and also seem to have some type of...achoo!" Nafretiri sneezed again, then sniffled. She hoped she didn't have snot all over her face! Then again, did it really matter? How far could any one human being see in the dark? Then again, the man had said something about his ancestors sending him to find her. Perhaps prophets of that sort had magical powers that enabled them to see in the dark when others couldn't do so. Who could say? She blushed at the thought that he would see her looking so... she vacillated between the words unladylike and human, but both seemed to fit. It was unladylike the way she could feel her nose running, but human to sneeze.
While she couldn't quite understand some of what he said- she had not met anyone thus far who participated in ancestor worship- she was not ungrateful. The night was still so cold, and the air seemed a little less filled with demons now that someone was here to talk to. Or perhaps his voice had shut them up.
"Tell me something, if you can. If it's true that your ancestors have sent you here, are there spirits that roam these desert lands? It certainly seems so, if this valley is full of tombs as they say, though it didn't seem so frightening crossing the desert in the daytime. But there is no other way to that temple that I can see, either. Also, might you know which god or goddess it is dedicated to?"
It was a few minutes of silence later that Nafretiri realized she had not told him her name, but though he seemed safe enough from his voice, she was unsure if he might know the Hei she had been freed from, and she didn't want Badru of Thebes getting wind that she was gone. He might come looking, and Nafretiri was nowhere close to being prepared for that, having nothing with which to disguise herself. Still, she ought to tell him something if he was going to help her....
"Please forgive me. I have not told you my name because I may be in danger. But my name is Nafretiri, and I swear, if there were any way to have avoided being out here, especially at this time of night, I would have."
Nafretiri coughed again, trying vainly to clear her throat. It didn't help; the action of opening her mouth only served to make her sneeze. "Um..." she croaked. "I don't know, but thank them for me. I appear to be very lost. I've heard there is a temple somewhere not far from here, and am trying to get to it. But I'm a bit night-blind, and also seem to have some type of...achoo!" Nafretiri sneezed again, then sniffled. She hoped she didn't have snot all over her face! Then again, did it really matter? How far could any one human being see in the dark? Then again, the man had said something about his ancestors sending him to find her. Perhaps prophets of that sort had magical powers that enabled them to see in the dark when others couldn't do so. Who could say? She blushed at the thought that he would see her looking so... she vacillated between the words unladylike and human, but both seemed to fit. It was unladylike the way she could feel her nose running, but human to sneeze.
While she couldn't quite understand some of what he said- she had not met anyone thus far who participated in ancestor worship- she was not ungrateful. The night was still so cold, and the air seemed a little less filled with demons now that someone was here to talk to. Or perhaps his voice had shut them up.
"Tell me something, if you can. If it's true that your ancestors have sent you here, are there spirits that roam these desert lands? It certainly seems so, if this valley is full of tombs as they say, though it didn't seem so frightening crossing the desert in the daytime. But there is no other way to that temple that I can see, either. Also, might you know which god or goddess it is dedicated to?"
It was a few minutes of silence later that Nafretiri realized she had not told him her name, but though he seemed safe enough from his voice, she was unsure if he might know the Hei she had been freed from, and she didn't want Badru of Thebes getting wind that she was gone. He might come looking, and Nafretiri was nowhere close to being prepared for that, having nothing with which to disguise herself. Still, she ought to tell him something if he was going to help her....
"Please forgive me. I have not told you my name because I may be in danger. But my name is Nafretiri, and I swear, if there were any way to have avoided being out here, especially at this time of night, I would have."
Illness was serious business, but the Zaire were healers and did not fear it the way others did. It was most likely she was simply reacting to breathing too much sand, but precautions were still sensible. Luckily, the Zaire relied on the fact that that there were other types of distance than physical, and one was unlikely to give offense with too much modesty. Mwenye smacked his camel on the shoulder with the stick hanging at his side, and gave a command in his own language, then secured the hanging end of his shemagh across his face as she obediently knelt down with the requisite amount of grumbling.
"Come," he suggested, "If you are willing to sit beside a man who is a stranger to you, I will help you find this temple. Here is not good to wander alone and not invited. Would you like a cloak? Also," there was a hint in the tone of his voice that suggested a hint of a smile behind the obscuring fabric, as he pointed to illustrate his words. "If you walk among the dunes, follow the tops of them. You will breathe less sand there."
Once Nefretiri had decided whether she would ride or walk, he swatted his camel upright and back into motion, letting her return to the better path. "I am Mwenye of the Zaire. The Egyptians tell of their ancestors living in this valley, but I cannot tell you much about them. Only my own ancestors speak to me. Is the temple you look for in the city near, or alone in the desert?" The bedoin man unhooked a waterskin and offered it to the woman. "Rinse your mouth once and spit, then drink," he suggested.
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Illness was serious business, but the Zaire were healers and did not fear it the way others did. It was most likely she was simply reacting to breathing too much sand, but precautions were still sensible. Luckily, the Zaire relied on the fact that that there were other types of distance than physical, and one was unlikely to give offense with too much modesty. Mwenye smacked his camel on the shoulder with the stick hanging at his side, and gave a command in his own language, then secured the hanging end of his shemagh across his face as she obediently knelt down with the requisite amount of grumbling.
"Come," he suggested, "If you are willing to sit beside a man who is a stranger to you, I will help you find this temple. Here is not good to wander alone and not invited. Would you like a cloak? Also," there was a hint in the tone of his voice that suggested a hint of a smile behind the obscuring fabric, as he pointed to illustrate his words. "If you walk among the dunes, follow the tops of them. You will breathe less sand there."
Once Nefretiri had decided whether she would ride or walk, he swatted his camel upright and back into motion, letting her return to the better path. "I am Mwenye of the Zaire. The Egyptians tell of their ancestors living in this valley, but I cannot tell you much about them. Only my own ancestors speak to me. Is the temple you look for in the city near, or alone in the desert?" The bedoin man unhooked a waterskin and offered it to the woman. "Rinse your mouth once and spit, then drink," he suggested.
Illness was serious business, but the Zaire were healers and did not fear it the way others did. It was most likely she was simply reacting to breathing too much sand, but precautions were still sensible. Luckily, the Zaire relied on the fact that that there were other types of distance than physical, and one was unlikely to give offense with too much modesty. Mwenye smacked his camel on the shoulder with the stick hanging at his side, and gave a command in his own language, then secured the hanging end of his shemagh across his face as she obediently knelt down with the requisite amount of grumbling.
"Come," he suggested, "If you are willing to sit beside a man who is a stranger to you, I will help you find this temple. Here is not good to wander alone and not invited. Would you like a cloak? Also," there was a hint in the tone of his voice that suggested a hint of a smile behind the obscuring fabric, as he pointed to illustrate his words. "If you walk among the dunes, follow the tops of them. You will breathe less sand there."
Once Nefretiri had decided whether she would ride or walk, he swatted his camel upright and back into motion, letting her return to the better path. "I am Mwenye of the Zaire. The Egyptians tell of their ancestors living in this valley, but I cannot tell you much about them. Only my own ancestors speak to me. Is the temple you look for in the city near, or alone in the desert?" The bedoin man unhooked a waterskin and offered it to the woman. "Rinse your mouth once and spit, then drink," he suggested.
He seemed like a nice sort and Nafretiri could both feel and hear the likely smile in his voice when he mentioned she would breathe less sand by following the tops of the dunes. She carefully mounted the camel, never having been on one before. Her family had come by chariot at least part of the way- her father owned one due to his merchant status, and after her mother died, there had been honest need of it. If she was a little unnerved by what seemed to be rocking- because there was a reason camels were called 'the ship of the desert-' she tried not to show it. Somehow, being atop the animal warmed her a little already, and she smiled gratefully.
"Ah, so that's what it is, then," she said, sniffling. "I don't think I am sick...I've always had this...sand allergy," she admitted, unable to think of a better way to explain it. "Not that my own homeland was any better, as far as that goes. But the veils- for women, I mean- appear to be made of thinner fabric here, when they exist at all. Where have you gotten the fabric for your head covering?" she could not resist asking. "And yes, I'd like a cloak. Thank you for asking." For some reason, his offer brought tears to her eyes, only because it seemed the desert was so much colder than usual the whole time she'd been walking because she had been alone for the past few days. She felt sure she would have reached a suitable temple before now, but it was hard to say between how tired and ill the pregnancy had made her and the fact that she was still somewhat unfamiliar with the Egyptian gods. So many strange ones existed, including ones she feared because of their sacred animal. Selket, for instance...Nafretiri could appreciate that she was a goddess of healing, but spiders and scorpions made Nafretiri's very skin crawl.
She worried that she would never find a place where she truly felt safe, even among the many temples, but she must not think that way. Not only for her own sake, but for her child's, there must be a goddess she could feel safe with.
To keep her mind off her fear, Nafretiri tried to find some way to continue filling the silence
"From where do you come?" Nafretiri was curious, though also trying to gauge whether or not he would potentially know Badru of Thebes. She had so much on her mind. If she felt she could tell anyone her troubles, she would, but either those she had met along the way did not seem trustworthy, or she didn't know if it was appropriate to tell your whole life's story within the first few minutes of meeting a person. She thought not, though... but then, Nafretiri had always had very few real friends, and if she were to go home- if it ever became possible at any point in time- she wondered if some people would even remember her.
Well, one could not change the past...though at the moment, except for not being alone at the moment, the future for Nafretiri and her child did not seem to be much better. Still, she managed a smile in the dark as she said she didn't think she knew his name. He probably wouldn't be able to see it, but she thought that he needed to know she hadn't always been so melancholy once upon a time. She took the waterskin and rinsed her mouth before answering his other question. "I think the temple is supposed to be across here, out of the valley."
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He seemed like a nice sort and Nafretiri could both feel and hear the likely smile in his voice when he mentioned she would breathe less sand by following the tops of the dunes. She carefully mounted the camel, never having been on one before. Her family had come by chariot at least part of the way- her father owned one due to his merchant status, and after her mother died, there had been honest need of it. If she was a little unnerved by what seemed to be rocking- because there was a reason camels were called 'the ship of the desert-' she tried not to show it. Somehow, being atop the animal warmed her a little already, and she smiled gratefully.
"Ah, so that's what it is, then," she said, sniffling. "I don't think I am sick...I've always had this...sand allergy," she admitted, unable to think of a better way to explain it. "Not that my own homeland was any better, as far as that goes. But the veils- for women, I mean- appear to be made of thinner fabric here, when they exist at all. Where have you gotten the fabric for your head covering?" she could not resist asking. "And yes, I'd like a cloak. Thank you for asking." For some reason, his offer brought tears to her eyes, only because it seemed the desert was so much colder than usual the whole time she'd been walking because she had been alone for the past few days. She felt sure she would have reached a suitable temple before now, but it was hard to say between how tired and ill the pregnancy had made her and the fact that she was still somewhat unfamiliar with the Egyptian gods. So many strange ones existed, including ones she feared because of their sacred animal. Selket, for instance...Nafretiri could appreciate that she was a goddess of healing, but spiders and scorpions made Nafretiri's very skin crawl.
She worried that she would never find a place where she truly felt safe, even among the many temples, but she must not think that way. Not only for her own sake, but for her child's, there must be a goddess she could feel safe with.
To keep her mind off her fear, Nafretiri tried to find some way to continue filling the silence
"From where do you come?" Nafretiri was curious, though also trying to gauge whether or not he would potentially know Badru of Thebes. She had so much on her mind. If she felt she could tell anyone her troubles, she would, but either those she had met along the way did not seem trustworthy, or she didn't know if it was appropriate to tell your whole life's story within the first few minutes of meeting a person. She thought not, though... but then, Nafretiri had always had very few real friends, and if she were to go home- if it ever became possible at any point in time- she wondered if some people would even remember her.
Well, one could not change the past...though at the moment, except for not being alone at the moment, the future for Nafretiri and her child did not seem to be much better. Still, she managed a smile in the dark as she said she didn't think she knew his name. He probably wouldn't be able to see it, but she thought that he needed to know she hadn't always been so melancholy once upon a time. She took the waterskin and rinsed her mouth before answering his other question. "I think the temple is supposed to be across here, out of the valley."
He seemed like a nice sort and Nafretiri could both feel and hear the likely smile in his voice when he mentioned she would breathe less sand by following the tops of the dunes. She carefully mounted the camel, never having been on one before. Her family had come by chariot at least part of the way- her father owned one due to his merchant status, and after her mother died, there had been honest need of it. If she was a little unnerved by what seemed to be rocking- because there was a reason camels were called 'the ship of the desert-' she tried not to show it. Somehow, being atop the animal warmed her a little already, and she smiled gratefully.
"Ah, so that's what it is, then," she said, sniffling. "I don't think I am sick...I've always had this...sand allergy," she admitted, unable to think of a better way to explain it. "Not that my own homeland was any better, as far as that goes. But the veils- for women, I mean- appear to be made of thinner fabric here, when they exist at all. Where have you gotten the fabric for your head covering?" she could not resist asking. "And yes, I'd like a cloak. Thank you for asking." For some reason, his offer brought tears to her eyes, only because it seemed the desert was so much colder than usual the whole time she'd been walking because she had been alone for the past few days. She felt sure she would have reached a suitable temple before now, but it was hard to say between how tired and ill the pregnancy had made her and the fact that she was still somewhat unfamiliar with the Egyptian gods. So many strange ones existed, including ones she feared because of their sacred animal. Selket, for instance...Nafretiri could appreciate that she was a goddess of healing, but spiders and scorpions made Nafretiri's very skin crawl.
She worried that she would never find a place where she truly felt safe, even among the many temples, but she must not think that way. Not only for her own sake, but for her child's, there must be a goddess she could feel safe with.
To keep her mind off her fear, Nafretiri tried to find some way to continue filling the silence
"From where do you come?" Nafretiri was curious, though also trying to gauge whether or not he would potentially know Badru of Thebes. She had so much on her mind. If she felt she could tell anyone her troubles, she would, but either those she had met along the way did not seem trustworthy, or she didn't know if it was appropriate to tell your whole life's story within the first few minutes of meeting a person. She thought not, though... but then, Nafretiri had always had very few real friends, and if she were to go home- if it ever became possible at any point in time- she wondered if some people would even remember her.
Well, one could not change the past...though at the moment, except for not being alone at the moment, the future for Nafretiri and her child did not seem to be much better. Still, she managed a smile in the dark as she said she didn't think she knew his name. He probably wouldn't be able to see it, but she thought that he needed to know she hadn't always been so melancholy once upon a time. She took the waterskin and rinsed her mouth before answering his other question. "I think the temple is supposed to be across here, out of the valley."
The camel's slow, even strides carried them up to the top of the dune, and Mwenye he gestured west, towards the deep desert, in answer to her question. "I am beodin, from the desert," he informed her. "My tribe, the Zaire, spend more time nearer the border than most others, for trade with the Egyptians, but our home is still the great desert."
A cluck, a tug on the reins, and a word in his own language, and the camel headed generally in the direction his passenger indicated, following the crests of the dunes rather than the shortest, straightest route. The slow, swaying plod of the camel gave the still night a sense of timelessness, without the frustrating stasis of stumbling endlessly through seemingly only the same few els of sand on only two feet. The beodin man, too, seemed in no rush, quietly content in the night's stillness. Distance could be measured in the desert, progress, the growing of children and the turning of the stars. Days could be counted, certainly, but time? That rushing, changing thing that everyone elsewhere sought to grasp tightly, to get in ahead of, thief of all things... that was not the way of the desert.
"What I have is of goat's wool, weaving by my mother," Mwenye added, finally answering her other question. "It is better than Egyptian fabric, yes. Softer, warmer." There was a soft smile in his voice again. "I have another, if you wished to trade."
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The camel's slow, even strides carried them up to the top of the dune, and Mwenye he gestured west, towards the deep desert, in answer to her question. "I am beodin, from the desert," he informed her. "My tribe, the Zaire, spend more time nearer the border than most others, for trade with the Egyptians, but our home is still the great desert."
A cluck, a tug on the reins, and a word in his own language, and the camel headed generally in the direction his passenger indicated, following the crests of the dunes rather than the shortest, straightest route. The slow, swaying plod of the camel gave the still night a sense of timelessness, without the frustrating stasis of stumbling endlessly through seemingly only the same few els of sand on only two feet. The beodin man, too, seemed in no rush, quietly content in the night's stillness. Distance could be measured in the desert, progress, the growing of children and the turning of the stars. Days could be counted, certainly, but time? That rushing, changing thing that everyone elsewhere sought to grasp tightly, to get in ahead of, thief of all things... that was not the way of the desert.
"What I have is of goat's wool, weaving by my mother," Mwenye added, finally answering her other question. "It is better than Egyptian fabric, yes. Softer, warmer." There was a soft smile in his voice again. "I have another, if you wished to trade."
The camel's slow, even strides carried them up to the top of the dune, and Mwenye he gestured west, towards the deep desert, in answer to her question. "I am beodin, from the desert," he informed her. "My tribe, the Zaire, spend more time nearer the border than most others, for trade with the Egyptians, but our home is still the great desert."
A cluck, a tug on the reins, and a word in his own language, and the camel headed generally in the direction his passenger indicated, following the crests of the dunes rather than the shortest, straightest route. The slow, swaying plod of the camel gave the still night a sense of timelessness, without the frustrating stasis of stumbling endlessly through seemingly only the same few els of sand on only two feet. The beodin man, too, seemed in no rush, quietly content in the night's stillness. Distance could be measured in the desert, progress, the growing of children and the turning of the stars. Days could be counted, certainly, but time? That rushing, changing thing that everyone elsewhere sought to grasp tightly, to get in ahead of, thief of all things... that was not the way of the desert.
"What I have is of goat's wool, weaving by my mother," Mwenye added, finally answering her other question. "It is better than Egyptian fabric, yes. Softer, warmer." There was a soft smile in his voice again. "I have another, if you wished to trade."
"I may not have anything to give you in return," Nafretiri answered with a sigh of regret. " I am in danger, as I said. I had to leave in a hurry." It was true. The faster she could put distance between herself and her former master the better, and even his wife had seemed to realize that fact. "But thank you for offering." It would have been so warm! But she was not going to take something for which she had nothing to give. As one raised as the daughter of a merchant, that would have been rude, though the fact that he might consider parting with something his mother made- even if he had another one- made tears prick her eyes, even if she did not let them fall.
"Your mother must be quite the seamstress, then." Nafretiri wished her own mother had seemed to feel anything other than obligation towards her, but she was not going to regale him with any more of her own tale than was necessary. How she dreaded being alone- more than ever now- but such was the fate of a foreigner most times, it seemed to her. So she would take the cup life had handed her, however bitter its dregs.
Still, she thought that there was no harm in learning a little more about him, to pass the time for them both. From his current tone of voice, he seemed to her to be the type to make friends easily wherever he went.
"Tell me, how far from Egypt are you- originally? I hope your ancestors have not dragged you too far out of your way." It was a feeble joke, to apologize for any inconvenience, perhaps, but even a feeble one was better than none at all when one was as lonely as Nafretiri had been feeling recently.
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"I may not have anything to give you in return," Nafretiri answered with a sigh of regret. " I am in danger, as I said. I had to leave in a hurry." It was true. The faster she could put distance between herself and her former master the better, and even his wife had seemed to realize that fact. "But thank you for offering." It would have been so warm! But she was not going to take something for which she had nothing to give. As one raised as the daughter of a merchant, that would have been rude, though the fact that he might consider parting with something his mother made- even if he had another one- made tears prick her eyes, even if she did not let them fall.
"Your mother must be quite the seamstress, then." Nafretiri wished her own mother had seemed to feel anything other than obligation towards her, but she was not going to regale him with any more of her own tale than was necessary. How she dreaded being alone- more than ever now- but such was the fate of a foreigner most times, it seemed to her. So she would take the cup life had handed her, however bitter its dregs.
Still, she thought that there was no harm in learning a little more about him, to pass the time for them both. From his current tone of voice, he seemed to her to be the type to make friends easily wherever he went.
"Tell me, how far from Egypt are you- originally? I hope your ancestors have not dragged you too far out of your way." It was a feeble joke, to apologize for any inconvenience, perhaps, but even a feeble one was better than none at all when one was as lonely as Nafretiri had been feeling recently.
"I may not have anything to give you in return," Nafretiri answered with a sigh of regret. " I am in danger, as I said. I had to leave in a hurry." It was true. The faster she could put distance between herself and her former master the better, and even his wife had seemed to realize that fact. "But thank you for offering." It would have been so warm! But she was not going to take something for which she had nothing to give. As one raised as the daughter of a merchant, that would have been rude, though the fact that he might consider parting with something his mother made- even if he had another one- made tears prick her eyes, even if she did not let them fall.
"Your mother must be quite the seamstress, then." Nafretiri wished her own mother had seemed to feel anything other than obligation towards her, but she was not going to regale him with any more of her own tale than was necessary. How she dreaded being alone- more than ever now- but such was the fate of a foreigner most times, it seemed to her. So she would take the cup life had handed her, however bitter its dregs.
Still, she thought that there was no harm in learning a little more about him, to pass the time for them both. From his current tone of voice, he seemed to her to be the type to make friends easily wherever he went.
"Tell me, how far from Egypt are you- originally? I hope your ancestors have not dragged you too far out of your way." It was a feeble joke, to apologize for any inconvenience, perhaps, but even a feeble one was better than none at all when one was as lonely as Nafretiri had been feeling recently.
"I am from the desert," Mwenye repeated, his tone suggesting that he did not - quite - understand the question. Or perhaps did not understand her need for clarification. "I did not need to come far from the tribe tonight. We come to trade with the Egyptians."
He didn't answer the compliment on behalf of his mother, guessing that it had been offered out of politeness, since to him the garment seemed entirely commonplace, such as nearly any woman of the tribe could make.
Another moment of thought, though, and he figured out the assumption that had prompted the question and provided a bit more of an answer for her, "We do not have cities, or one oasis," he used the beodin word, "that is home, but we spend our lives traveling."
As any nomad could tell you, no wilderness is entirely trackless, but the desert came closer than most. Rock and sand were all that was visible at night on the western side of the Nile; each flood-season, the life-giving waters only spread their bounty over the eastern bank. The camel's footfalls landed a bit more solidly. There was no difference in sound as there would have been with a horse or perhaps a goat, but Mwenye noticed the difference in the feel of the movement under him from long experience.
"If there is a road," he mused aloud, "Then there is something at either end of it. Is one of those things likely to be your temple, do you think?"
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"I am from the desert," Mwenye repeated, his tone suggesting that he did not - quite - understand the question. Or perhaps did not understand her need for clarification. "I did not need to come far from the tribe tonight. We come to trade with the Egyptians."
He didn't answer the compliment on behalf of his mother, guessing that it had been offered out of politeness, since to him the garment seemed entirely commonplace, such as nearly any woman of the tribe could make.
Another moment of thought, though, and he figured out the assumption that had prompted the question and provided a bit more of an answer for her, "We do not have cities, or one oasis," he used the beodin word, "that is home, but we spend our lives traveling."
As any nomad could tell you, no wilderness is entirely trackless, but the desert came closer than most. Rock and sand were all that was visible at night on the western side of the Nile; each flood-season, the life-giving waters only spread their bounty over the eastern bank. The camel's footfalls landed a bit more solidly. There was no difference in sound as there would have been with a horse or perhaps a goat, but Mwenye noticed the difference in the feel of the movement under him from long experience.
"If there is a road," he mused aloud, "Then there is something at either end of it. Is one of those things likely to be your temple, do you think?"
"I am from the desert," Mwenye repeated, his tone suggesting that he did not - quite - understand the question. Or perhaps did not understand her need for clarification. "I did not need to come far from the tribe tonight. We come to trade with the Egyptians."
He didn't answer the compliment on behalf of his mother, guessing that it had been offered out of politeness, since to him the garment seemed entirely commonplace, such as nearly any woman of the tribe could make.
Another moment of thought, though, and he figured out the assumption that had prompted the question and provided a bit more of an answer for her, "We do not have cities, or one oasis," he used the beodin word, "that is home, but we spend our lives traveling."
As any nomad could tell you, no wilderness is entirely trackless, but the desert came closer than most. Rock and sand were all that was visible at night on the western side of the Nile; each flood-season, the life-giving waters only spread their bounty over the eastern bank. The camel's footfalls landed a bit more solidly. There was no difference in sound as there would have been with a horse or perhaps a goat, but Mwenye noticed the difference in the feel of the movement under him from long experience.
"If there is a road," he mused aloud, "Then there is something at either end of it. Is one of those things likely to be your temple, do you think?"
"I am glad that you did not have to travel far," she admitted, relief in her voice. It went without saying that she hated to be a burden on anyone,so if the gods sent him. it must mean they wanted her- and her child- she admitted to herself, though she was still growing used to the fact that there was going to be a child- to survive.
The compliment about his mother had been sincere if almost automatic- anyone who seemed to have a mother who cared about them would have received the same compliment. It was a pity that Nafretiri could not say the same for her own mother. At the moment, it almost brought tears to her eyes- even if they might almost be happy ones- to realize that someone's mother still cared about them. So there was good in the world, and somehow, all of her life, she had missed it. But maybe, now that she was traveling to a place where she would hopefully be safe, it would all change. She had to believe that, or she would lose her sanity, if she had not already.
"I hoped from a young age that I would be able to travel. But not like this- in danger and alone. Still. there must be many advantages to, in a sense, calling the whole world one's home." Among those, she hoped, was many friends, and that Mwenye would only be the first of many friends for her, whether she always stayed in Egypt or not.
She did hope- for now- that she would not always be traveling. Right now, travel meant that she was in danger.
"I hope so. If not, I at least hope it will be a place to rest."
Rest did not necessarily mean that one felt safe, but it could eventually mean that, she supposed.
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"I am glad that you did not have to travel far," she admitted, relief in her voice. It went without saying that she hated to be a burden on anyone,so if the gods sent him. it must mean they wanted her- and her child- she admitted to herself, though she was still growing used to the fact that there was going to be a child- to survive.
The compliment about his mother had been sincere if almost automatic- anyone who seemed to have a mother who cared about them would have received the same compliment. It was a pity that Nafretiri could not say the same for her own mother. At the moment, it almost brought tears to her eyes- even if they might almost be happy ones- to realize that someone's mother still cared about them. So there was good in the world, and somehow, all of her life, she had missed it. But maybe, now that she was traveling to a place where she would hopefully be safe, it would all change. She had to believe that, or she would lose her sanity, if she had not already.
"I hoped from a young age that I would be able to travel. But not like this- in danger and alone. Still. there must be many advantages to, in a sense, calling the whole world one's home." Among those, she hoped, was many friends, and that Mwenye would only be the first of many friends for her, whether she always stayed in Egypt or not.
She did hope- for now- that she would not always be traveling. Right now, travel meant that she was in danger.
"I hope so. If not, I at least hope it will be a place to rest."
Rest did not necessarily mean that one felt safe, but it could eventually mean that, she supposed.
"I am glad that you did not have to travel far," she admitted, relief in her voice. It went without saying that she hated to be a burden on anyone,so if the gods sent him. it must mean they wanted her- and her child- she admitted to herself, though she was still growing used to the fact that there was going to be a child- to survive.
The compliment about his mother had been sincere if almost automatic- anyone who seemed to have a mother who cared about them would have received the same compliment. It was a pity that Nafretiri could not say the same for her own mother. At the moment, it almost brought tears to her eyes- even if they might almost be happy ones- to realize that someone's mother still cared about them. So there was good in the world, and somehow, all of her life, she had missed it. But maybe, now that she was traveling to a place where she would hopefully be safe, it would all change. She had to believe that, or she would lose her sanity, if she had not already.
"I hoped from a young age that I would be able to travel. But not like this- in danger and alone. Still. there must be many advantages to, in a sense, calling the whole world one's home." Among those, she hoped, was many friends, and that Mwenye would only be the first of many friends for her, whether she always stayed in Egypt or not.
She did hope- for now- that she would not always be traveling. Right now, travel meant that she was in danger.
"I hope so. If not, I at least hope it will be a place to rest."
Rest did not necessarily mean that one felt safe, but it could eventually mean that, she supposed.
"Hmm." In the deeper desert, Mwenye would trust his camel to choose their direction, confident she would find the closer oasis, but here the scent of water from the Nile would easily overwhelm that of a much closer well. The night was cool, though, and both of them well-rested, so he turned their steps east and south. He stayed quiet, not being a man prone to unnecessary small talk, and particularly not with strangers, but he gave every indication of being relaxed and comfortable in the night's silence.
The prophet had traveled Egypt before, not just attended the trade-camps on the border, and knew that on the dry side of the river, temples were often built directly into a cliffside, rather than constructed of cut stone - perhaps the stone removed went to construction elswhere, or perhaps it was just chipped away into more sand, he had no idea. Either way, it did make sense to him as being more efficient, even if likely to require more skill. Egyptian builders, from what he had seen, were very skilled, and he had no doubt that even the grand things he couldn't even guess as to how it was done were simply considered routine by the ones who did them.
Egyptians also seemed to prefer, where possible, the temples to be visible from the river, but that could be accomplished as much by scale as by proximity. Al salouf flared her nose, and he saw the square, cut lines of a small collection of residences, huddled together efficiently sharing walls wherever possible. He might have thought it merely two large, low buildings if he hadn't been inside a similar warren before. Whether it currently provided living space for servants or priests, or whether it had been set up for the builders and was now abandoned he didn't know; he saw no lights and no movement, but that proved nothing. Nor was it necessary to guess or find out, for ahead he caught the first hint of a statue.
They had by chance or inevitability stumbled across the access road for those whose business did not merit using the grand colonnade cut straight from the river to the huge temple doors; Mwenye stopped his mount before she stepped somewhere that looked to be actually part of the temple grounds.
"This seems the place," he told his passenger unnecessarily, and commanded the camel to lay down so she could dismount easily.
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"Hmm." In the deeper desert, Mwenye would trust his camel to choose their direction, confident she would find the closer oasis, but here the scent of water from the Nile would easily overwhelm that of a much closer well. The night was cool, though, and both of them well-rested, so he turned their steps east and south. He stayed quiet, not being a man prone to unnecessary small talk, and particularly not with strangers, but he gave every indication of being relaxed and comfortable in the night's silence.
The prophet had traveled Egypt before, not just attended the trade-camps on the border, and knew that on the dry side of the river, temples were often built directly into a cliffside, rather than constructed of cut stone - perhaps the stone removed went to construction elswhere, or perhaps it was just chipped away into more sand, he had no idea. Either way, it did make sense to him as being more efficient, even if likely to require more skill. Egyptian builders, from what he had seen, were very skilled, and he had no doubt that even the grand things he couldn't even guess as to how it was done were simply considered routine by the ones who did them.
Egyptians also seemed to prefer, where possible, the temples to be visible from the river, but that could be accomplished as much by scale as by proximity. Al salouf flared her nose, and he saw the square, cut lines of a small collection of residences, huddled together efficiently sharing walls wherever possible. He might have thought it merely two large, low buildings if he hadn't been inside a similar warren before. Whether it currently provided living space for servants or priests, or whether it had been set up for the builders and was now abandoned he didn't know; he saw no lights and no movement, but that proved nothing. Nor was it necessary to guess or find out, for ahead he caught the first hint of a statue.
They had by chance or inevitability stumbled across the access road for those whose business did not merit using the grand colonnade cut straight from the river to the huge temple doors; Mwenye stopped his mount before she stepped somewhere that looked to be actually part of the temple grounds.
"This seems the place," he told his passenger unnecessarily, and commanded the camel to lay down so she could dismount easily.
"Hmm." In the deeper desert, Mwenye would trust his camel to choose their direction, confident she would find the closer oasis, but here the scent of water from the Nile would easily overwhelm that of a much closer well. The night was cool, though, and both of them well-rested, so he turned their steps east and south. He stayed quiet, not being a man prone to unnecessary small talk, and particularly not with strangers, but he gave every indication of being relaxed and comfortable in the night's silence.
The prophet had traveled Egypt before, not just attended the trade-camps on the border, and knew that on the dry side of the river, temples were often built directly into a cliffside, rather than constructed of cut stone - perhaps the stone removed went to construction elswhere, or perhaps it was just chipped away into more sand, he had no idea. Either way, it did make sense to him as being more efficient, even if likely to require more skill. Egyptian builders, from what he had seen, were very skilled, and he had no doubt that even the grand things he couldn't even guess as to how it was done were simply considered routine by the ones who did them.
Egyptians also seemed to prefer, where possible, the temples to be visible from the river, but that could be accomplished as much by scale as by proximity. Al salouf flared her nose, and he saw the square, cut lines of a small collection of residences, huddled together efficiently sharing walls wherever possible. He might have thought it merely two large, low buildings if he hadn't been inside a similar warren before. Whether it currently provided living space for servants or priests, or whether it had been set up for the builders and was now abandoned he didn't know; he saw no lights and no movement, but that proved nothing. Nor was it necessary to guess or find out, for ahead he caught the first hint of a statue.
They had by chance or inevitability stumbled across the access road for those whose business did not merit using the grand colonnade cut straight from the river to the huge temple doors; Mwenye stopped his mount before she stepped somewhere that looked to be actually part of the temple grounds.
"This seems the place," he told his passenger unnecessarily, and commanded the camel to lay down so she could dismount easily.
When the camel stopped, Nafretiri blinked. "Pardon me, I am just a bit night-blind. Still, I think you are correct. Thank you for the assistance." There was a smile in her voice despite her apprehension. Whatever god or goddess waited at the entrance to the temple would likely be the one who had chosen her, and that was part of her nervousness. The other gods and goddesses she had seen temples to all frightened her for one reason or another, or if not, seemed inappropriate patrons for her situation.
This one seemed harmless enough, though, from what she could see. "A cow goddess. I don't remember that one," she mused. But cattle were usually seen as gentle, docile creatures, if large ones. There was nothing in this temple that seemed ominous. Not like Isis or Osiris- the very whisper of their names could invoke fear. "Do you remember?" she asked him hopefully. For all that he was not Egyptian, he seemed to be at least more knowledgeable than she was. Meritaten had had a statue of this goddess that she spent a great deal of time prostrated in front of, but Nafretiri couldn't remember the significance of that particular figure. Perhaps a helper of women? That thought relaxed her a little, and she blew out a relieved breath.
She stepped carefully down from the camel, walking gingerly at first to avoid any possible rocks. Difficulty seeing in the dark was probably challenging for anyone, but she didn't seem to have quite as much ease as others,and she wasn't exactly sure why.
"I hope we meet again." she added, really meaning it. It might give her something to look forward to if she had someone to let know how she was settling in.
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When the camel stopped, Nafretiri blinked. "Pardon me, I am just a bit night-blind. Still, I think you are correct. Thank you for the assistance." There was a smile in her voice despite her apprehension. Whatever god or goddess waited at the entrance to the temple would likely be the one who had chosen her, and that was part of her nervousness. The other gods and goddesses she had seen temples to all frightened her for one reason or another, or if not, seemed inappropriate patrons for her situation.
This one seemed harmless enough, though, from what she could see. "A cow goddess. I don't remember that one," she mused. But cattle were usually seen as gentle, docile creatures, if large ones. There was nothing in this temple that seemed ominous. Not like Isis or Osiris- the very whisper of their names could invoke fear. "Do you remember?" she asked him hopefully. For all that he was not Egyptian, he seemed to be at least more knowledgeable than she was. Meritaten had had a statue of this goddess that she spent a great deal of time prostrated in front of, but Nafretiri couldn't remember the significance of that particular figure. Perhaps a helper of women? That thought relaxed her a little, and she blew out a relieved breath.
She stepped carefully down from the camel, walking gingerly at first to avoid any possible rocks. Difficulty seeing in the dark was probably challenging for anyone, but she didn't seem to have quite as much ease as others,and she wasn't exactly sure why.
"I hope we meet again." she added, really meaning it. It might give her something to look forward to if she had someone to let know how she was settling in.
When the camel stopped, Nafretiri blinked. "Pardon me, I am just a bit night-blind. Still, I think you are correct. Thank you for the assistance." There was a smile in her voice despite her apprehension. Whatever god or goddess waited at the entrance to the temple would likely be the one who had chosen her, and that was part of her nervousness. The other gods and goddesses she had seen temples to all frightened her for one reason or another, or if not, seemed inappropriate patrons for her situation.
This one seemed harmless enough, though, from what she could see. "A cow goddess. I don't remember that one," she mused. But cattle were usually seen as gentle, docile creatures, if large ones. There was nothing in this temple that seemed ominous. Not like Isis or Osiris- the very whisper of their names could invoke fear. "Do you remember?" she asked him hopefully. For all that he was not Egyptian, he seemed to be at least more knowledgeable than she was. Meritaten had had a statue of this goddess that she spent a great deal of time prostrated in front of, but Nafretiri couldn't remember the significance of that particular figure. Perhaps a helper of women? That thought relaxed her a little, and she blew out a relieved breath.
She stepped carefully down from the camel, walking gingerly at first to avoid any possible rocks. Difficulty seeing in the dark was probably challenging for anyone, but she didn't seem to have quite as much ease as others,and she wasn't exactly sure why.
"I hope we meet again." she added, really meaning it. It might give her something to look forward to if she had someone to let know how she was settling in.
In truth, while he had spent enough time in Egypt that he could recognize most of their gods' names as being those of Egyptian gods, he had heard most of them in the context of invective and had not made any sort of study of which was which. "I do not know. But if your ancestors have led you here, then it must be where you belong."
He nudged the camel to stand again, and smiled beneath his veil. "If it is the will of both your ancestors and mine, then let it be so."
With that, the beodan prophet tapped his camel with his crop, and the pair moved off back into the night.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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In truth, while he had spent enough time in Egypt that he could recognize most of their gods' names as being those of Egyptian gods, he had heard most of them in the context of invective and had not made any sort of study of which was which. "I do not know. But if your ancestors have led you here, then it must be where you belong."
He nudged the camel to stand again, and smiled beneath his veil. "If it is the will of both your ancestors and mine, then let it be so."
With that, the beodan prophet tapped his camel with his crop, and the pair moved off back into the night.
In truth, while he had spent enough time in Egypt that he could recognize most of their gods' names as being those of Egyptian gods, he had heard most of them in the context of invective and had not made any sort of study of which was which. "I do not know. But if your ancestors have led you here, then it must be where you belong."
He nudged the camel to stand again, and smiled beneath his veil. "If it is the will of both your ancestors and mine, then let it be so."
With that, the beodan prophet tapped his camel with his crop, and the pair moved off back into the night.