Page 31 of A Thousand Nights Before Dawn
The temple servant bowed her head once more before leading Victory away. Zahra followed Namir deeper into the temple complex.
The temple of Re was sacred ground. This her father had made clear since she first came to Aur. The exterior was a wide and open space, with statues of Re scattered throughout. Pharaoh King Thutmose had been known for his devotion to the sunnetjer. Many of the statues, she guessed, were commissioned by him.
The statues at the temple of Re in Illahun, she recalled, were older and less frequent. The temple of Re here was bigger than she had ever seen. She couldn’t think how her father cleaned it every day.
The thought of her father reminded her of her other purpose here, and she studied the worshipers in hopes of seeing him. The worshipers brought their offerings, rehearsed a prayer, and then left to return home. Aurans—or, more often, representatives of their families, such as servants or children—would bring pieces of their meals or earnings for the day and offer them to Re. Therewere three times for worship throughout the day. While each family was expected to make an offering once daily, the priests participated in special rituals to help Re in his journey across the sky.
Zahra swallowed hard. Her father was nowhere in sight. Had she gotten there too late?
Namir stopped at the doors to the inner part of the temple complex, and Zahra stopped a few feet behind him. A boy servant greeted Namir with a bow and then removed Namir’s sandals and washed his feet with a cloth. When he was done, the boy turned to Zahra.
Zahra shook her head. “I can’t?—”
“Bring her to me once her feet are washed,” Namir instructed.
Zahra scoffed. Surely, he was not serious? Only priests and high officials were allowed inside. Her presence as an indentured servant would be an offense to the Hem-netjer and Re himself. “My King—” She grabbed his arm.
Namir spun toward her, his jaw clenched.
Zahra quickly withdrew her hand and lowered her voice. “I don’t think it wise for me to come with you in this case, my King. I will wait here while you?—”
“I told you to stay with me. I will see you inside.” Namir disappeared through the doors, leaving Zahra and the boy alone.
Zahra smiled sheepishly at the boy. He was young, close in age to the Ur brothers, but a tiredness resided in his eyes that was absent from theirs. “I can wash my own feet.”
The boy knelt and began removing her sandals. Zahra sighed and obliged him. He only wanted to obey the king’s order. She glanced at where Namir had gone. Why had he wanted her inside?
Once the boy was done, he led Zahra through the temple. The walls were taller than Zahra had thought they would be,towering over her like the sun itself. She imagined ten horses could stand on each other’s backs and still not reach the ceiling’s full height. Statues of Re sat on pedestals in the corner of each room or hallway, their beady falcon eyes watching her as she passed. Re was featured in tapestries depicting great battles. One tapestry depicted Aur’s civil war that occurred centuries ago. The people who lost the war, who were called the Naqada, were being banished to Deshret away from the Iteru’s blessings. Other minornetjeruwere featured in rugs or paintings, but all decorations pointed to the sunnetjer.
Priests glowered at her as she passed, staring at her debt tag and her bare feet. Zahra held her breath and slowed her pace as she studied a group of wab priests cleaning a statue of Re. Among them was Kamil, but Omar was nowhere to be seen.
The boy cleared his throat, and Zahra picked up her pace, apologizing quietly so as not to disturb the priests. Namir was in the back of the temple, underneath several large windows that let the sun in. An older man accompanied him. The man was several inches shorter than Namir but had a stance that commanded attention. His white robes were decorated with fine fabrics, and gold jewelry adorned his ears and head.
The boy servant stopped in the doorway and bowed. “My King. Hem-netjer. Here is your guest.”
The old man paused his conversation and directed his attention to Zahra. He appeared to be in his late fifties, his head bald and his scrutinizing eyes brown.
This was Zosar, the Hem-netjer? Zahra had always been told that Zosar was a great man, a noble that abandoned his wealth to serve Re and the people of Aur. She doubted that Zosar had truly abandoned his wealth, given the expensive embroidery, jewels, and fabrics used in his clothes. Mere contributions to the temple couldn’t have supplied that.
Still, Zahra knew her place. After all, her father had taught her well. She knelt and bowed deeply. “Oh, great Hem-netjer. Re has blessed me on this gifted day to be in your presence.”
Zosar dismissed the servant with a nod, but he did not give permission for Zahra to rise.
Namir gestured to Zahra. “This is the one I spoke of.”
Zahra looked up, noticing an old papyrus sticking out of Namir’s bag. She slowly stood, her heart pounding inside of her. That was a scroll from the hidden library. What had Namir told him?
The high priest regarded Zahra with a frown. He turned to Namir. “You chose an Ionian as your bride?”
Zahra flinched as if Hem-netjer’s words had punched her in the gut.
Namir scoffed and offered a small chuckle to alleviate the awkwardness of the notion. “Of course not.”
Hurt swelled in Zahra’s heart, but she tried not to dwell on the thought. She was not here to please the King or the Hem-netjer. She was here for her father’s sake, and that was all.
Namir eyed Zahra. “She remembers, though I am not sure why.”
Zahra’s heart dropped, and she glanced at Zosar.
