iay stared into the cat’s eyes. He felt oddly troubled by what he saw flickering in their emerald depths. Was that intelligence? Surely not. Yet what he saw there left him in no doubt that this was like no feline he had ever encountered.

  Bast held his gaze a moment longer and then looked away with what Piay thought was insouciance.

  What a fool I am, he decided, silently cursing himself. This life at sea was driving him slowly insane.

  He was sitting cross-legged on the deck, out of the blast of the sea breeze. For three days, the warships of the barbarians had chased them along the coast of Nubia. Hanbaal had shown skill as a seasoned captain, using the currents to their advantage so that they not only kept the pace of the enemy at their backs, but even pulled ahead. On they’d raced, through the narrow strait, with Arabia looming in the east, and into the dangerous wide waters. If the gods were kind, they could lose the warships and reach their destination without further conflict.

  He saw Myssa staring at him, a faint smile on her lips, the first time he had seen one since she had left her village. She walked over and said, ‘Bast likes you.’

  ‘The sentiment is not returned.’

  ‘You do not like cats?’

  ‘I don’t like that one. It troubles me.’

  Myssa laughed silently. ‘That is because she sees your deepest secrets.’

  ‘I have no secrets. I am a simple man.’

  Myssa laughed loudly this time. Piay felt relieved that she was once again becoming her own self, though he knew that pain would still remain deep in her heart.

  Hannu stalked across the deck towards them from the prow. He was scowling.

  Piay sighed. ‘Clearly it is time for him to torment me again. Is a little peace and quiet too much to ask?’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Myssa asked when Hannu reached them.

  He turned and pointed. Piay looked past his finger to a grey smudge on the horizon.

  ‘Storm’s brewing,’ Hannu said. ‘Brace yourself.’

  R

  ain gusted in great, rolling waves and the howling wind whipped up the grey sea into white-topped cliffs. On the bucking deck, Piay could only anchor himself to the rail. Myssa clutched on to him, eyes wide with terror as she babbled prayers in an unfamiliar tongue.

  The storm had slowed them. Though the Hyksos ships were invisible in the tempest, Piay felt sure they were there, drawing closer. And Sakir would be on the lead vessel, riding those other waves of the blue lotus dreams with Seth looming over him.

  The ship crashed down from the crest of the swell and a wave swept across the deck. Myssa screamed and Piay pulled her tighter. When he wiped the brine from his eyes, he glimpsed Hanbaal lurching across the benches to the starboard rail and peering out into the murk.

  Piay beckoned for Hannu to take care of Myssa and he staggered down the rolling deck to the slaver.

  ‘We know the currents here better than anyone!’ Hanbaal bellowed above the howl of the wind. ‘If the Hyksos are not used to these waters, we have an advantage.’ He grabbed Piay’s arm and pointed into the rain haze. ‘There is a reef out there. Rocks as sharp as a lion’s teeth that can tear through a hull. The currents will drag the unwise on to them.’

  ‘What is your plan?’ Piay shouted back.

  ‘The reef is marked on our charts. On past voyages we have given it a wide berth for fear we would get dragged on to the rocks by the currents. We can skirt that reef now – as close as we dare . . . Draw in the barbarian ships and leave it to the gods to decide if they live or die. This is our only hope. One miscalculation and we will be on the bottom.’

  ‘What other choice do we have?’

  ‘None. My knowledge of the currents aided us, but still they drew closer. We must seize this moment.’

  Hanbaal spun back to his men. Whatever he told them, Piay could see faces twist in confusion, but the sailors obeyed their captain without question.

  The ship slowed and began to twist on the currents.

  ‘Starboard, hard!’ Hanbaal shouted.

  The helmsman leaned on the steering oar. Slowly the ship began to turn in the direction of the reef.

  Piay scrambled back to Hannu and Myssa.

  ‘Brace yourselves!’ he shouted.

  Myssa stared, her mouth widening.

  ‘Put your faith in Hanbaal,’ Piay said to her. ‘There is no better captain in my mind. If anyone can deliver us from the barbarians, it is him.’

  And if he fails, we will be swallowed by the ocean and in no position to complain.

  His words seemed to calm Myssa and she forced a smile and nodded. Hannu was more suspicious.

  ‘Why are we heading towards the shore?’

  ‘We have stopped running.’

  Before Hannu could question him further, Piay staggered to the rail beside the helmsman’s platform and stared into the blasting rain. For a while there was only the heaving sea and the deck rolling beneath his feet. But then he glimpsed movement in the grey curtain astern. Shadows slowly hardened.

  The Hyksos warships rushed out of the haze, growing more distinct as they neared. One ship. Three. Six. The squadron was sailing in formation in the shape of a spearhead. They were disciplined, as he would expect from such a band of warriors. But were they ready for the confusion and chaos that was to come?

  Piay watched the grand vessels ride the swell. Soon he glimpsed the barbarians on deck. Perhaps he was imagining it, but he was sure he could see them punch their fists into the air and roar their jubilation when they saw their prey before them.

  Hanbaal was allowing his vessel to twist and turn in the current as if his men had lost control of it. The Hyksos would be thinking the ship was damaged, perhaps taking on water.

  Closer, Piay thought. Closer.

  The warships bore down on Hanbaal’s vessel. In the prow of the one at the head of the spear-tip, a figure stood erect on the platform holding the rail. Piay squinted into the gale. He couldn’t make out the features, but he was certain it was Sakir. The warrior seemed unmoved by the tumult, as calm as if he had been sailing across the Bitter Lakes.

  Hanbaal was roaring his commands. The helmsman leaned harder still on the steering pole, and as the crew pushed into their oars, the ship began to turn and gather speed. Piay felt the vessel beneath him straining against the fierce currents.

  Onwards the Hyksos came. After such a long pursuit, they would be giddy with the thought that their prey was almost in their grasp. That would make them reckless. Piay hoped; he prayed.

  The slaver ship skimmed across the waves towards the hidden reef.

  Piay wiped away the rain blinding him and peered into the churning water below. His heart leaped into his throat as the ship dipped and then twisted towards port. Hanbaal was asking much of his crew, and his vessel. How easy would it be for the claws of the ocean to rend the ship apart.

  So violent now was the shaking that Piay gripped on for dear life. The vessel rolled hard. The water rushed up towards him as the deck pitched at a dizzying angle. His feet lifted off the boards.

  Somewhere a sailor screamed. The man flashed past Piay and plunged into the cruel sea, sucked beneath the surface in an instant. Another man spun by, cracking his skull on the rail as he turned head over heels and disappeared into the waves.

  Piay screwed his eyes shut tight. Brine sprayed across his face and he felt a surge of dread that the vessel was going to crash onto its side.

  But then he sensed a shift in the forces dragging him down. The ship’s timbers moaned as the vessel began to swing back on to its keel. Gathering pace, it crashed back down.

  Piay jerked his eyes open. A line of jagged teeth stabbed from the water – the grey tip of the reef Hanbaal had identified.

  A terrible grinding rolled out. The hull was dragging against the submerged rocks. Piay gasped, waiting for the moment when those vicious fangs ripped open the ship. The grinding rumbled louder, the vessel juddering.

  Then Piay felt himself jolted forwards as if the ship had broken free of an invisible bond. The grinding vanished and the vessel surged away from the rocks.

  Piay unfurled his grip and staggered back. So close had they come to disaster, only the gods could have saved them. He muttered a prayer to Bast, and then one to Khonsu for good measure, that they would be carried to safety.

  He heard a terrible rending sound; one of the Hyksos ships careered across the reef. Piay watched as the fate they had narrowly avoided unfolded for the Hyksos before his eyes. The hull ripped apart, timbers shattering into flying shards. The grey water gushed into the hole. The deck spun up. The screams of sailors whipped on the gale as they pitched over the side into the boiling sea. Those furious currents wrenched at the wounded vessel until they ripped the bones asunder. The vessel crumbled, the mast swinging down into the gulf until it slid beneath the surface.

  Piay watched men flailing in the heaving swell, gripped by terror. One by one the waves dashed them against the rocks or sucked them to the depths.

  Two other Hyksos warships swept out of the haze of rain. The captain on the one nearest the reef must have been aware of what had happened to the first vessel. The ship banked at a steep angle as the helmsman fought with the steering oar to move the ship away from the rocks. Yet in the desperation of that action, the captain had only served to propel his craft into the path of the second warship.

  There was no time to take evasive action and the currents were too strong for adjustments.

  For an instant Piay forgot these were his enemies. A deep chill engulfed him as he watched the relentless passage of the two warships. They smashed together, the impact shattering both hulls. The sailors swarmed on the decks, but what could any of them do now? For a moment the two vessels seemed to be locked in a wild dance. They whirled together and then crashed in unison against the reef, as sailors were swept into the ocean.

  Piay watched until the last man was lost and there was only the roiling sea.

  Hanbaal showed no sentiment. He leaped from bench to bench, somehow keeping his feet on the bucking deck as he ordered his men to their tasks.

  Piay stared aft. Timbers and sailcloth swirled across the swell. Of the other three ships, there was no sign. The gods had been merciless and those terrible seas had claimed all their enemies. He felt the rare taste of relief. Sakir was surely now a feast for the fish – for if not, he would still be hunting down his prey. The pursuit was done. They were free to carve out their own destiny.

  He glimpsed Hanbaal gazing at the drifting debris. Searching, weighing. Then his eyes locked on Piay’s and his lips curled into a triumphant grin.

  S

  unlight jewelled the waves and spun gold along the length of shore. Now the tempest had blown itself out, Piay watched this unfamiliar land reveal itself, wondering what mysteries and dangers lay beyond the limits of his vision. He could still barely believe they had escaped with their lives.

  All around, weary sailors collapsed across their oars. They’d fought against the storm and turbulent ocean for most of the day until they’d reached calmer seas. But now the skies were blue and the wind had dropped, and Hanbaal had ordered the ship to be taken in closer to land.

  The slaver strode up.

  ‘You are still sure you wish to go ashore?’

  ‘This is the land of the elephants, yes?’

  ‘Azania, they call it. There are elephants here, aye. Everywhere, deep into the south. I have even heard tell of a kingdom which has gained its power from warriors trained to ride on the backs of those great beasts.’

  Piay felt a surge of hope. That was all he needed if he was to return to Egypt: an army of fighting men who rode on elephants – more than a match for the Hyksos horses.

  Piay sensed unease as Hanbaal scrutinised the shoreline.

  ‘What do you see?’

  ‘There are dangers everywhere. But perhaps more for us than you.’ The slaver stroked his oiled beard. ‘We visited this land on one of our recent trips. But I make it a rule never to revisit one of our slaving grounds in quick succession.’

  ‘I imagine you are not given a warm welcome.’

  ‘This is business – the consequence of trade is not always favourable.’

  ‘You don’t have to venture on land. Anchor here and let us use the rowing boat. One man to deliver us to the shore. We will be back before you know it.’

  Hanbaal nodded. ‘And once you have your elephants, then we can discuss my gold.’

  T

  he crimson sun glowed behind the silhouettes of the trees. Its dying rays opened a ruddy road across the calm sea. Piay, Hannu and Myssa sat in the stern of the rowing boat, watching this strange new land draw closer as the sailor dipped his oars.

  ‘You can speak the tongue of the people here?’ Piay asked.

  Myssa shrugged. ‘Some. Kush has close ties with many of the great kingdoms and the tribes that roam these lands. Trade always makes friends.’

  ‘Sometimes enemies,’ Hannu sniffed. ‘If they think we are slavers, the next time Hanbaal comes he will find our heads on spikes as a warning.’

  ‘I am trusting Myssa to guide us through any negotiations,’ Piay said.

  She glanced towards him, but he couldn’t read her face in the growing dusk.

  Once they reached the shore, they splashed into the shallows and strode up the beach. The sailor wasted no time in rowing back towards the ship.

  As they stared at the dark line of trees, Piay felt a prickle of apprehension. Though it might have been better to wait on the ship until daybreak, they would be less likely to be seen as night fell, and they would be able to get the lie of the land before confronting the local people.

  Even at that hour, it was steamy. They skirted a mangrove creek and moved into the shade under the coconut palms that lined the beach.

  When the last of the sun ebbed, the darkness swallowed them, but enough moonlight broke through the canopy to illuminate the way ahead. They pushed through the thickening vegetation. They’d barely ventured more than a spear’s throw when a cry rang out: was-way-wah, high-pitched and plaintive.

  Hannu stiffened. ‘Is that . . . a baby crying?’

  ‘There may be a settlement ahead,’ Piay breathed.

  He eased his way past a plant with giant fronds. The cry came again, and again. Was it moving around them? Piay couldn’t be sure, but he felt unsettled nonetheless. Now it didn’t sound like any baby’s cry. Hannu must have thought the same, for he dropped lower, his eyes darting.

  Finally that bawling echoed ahead of them. Piay’s breath burned in his chest. He watched Myssa creep forwards and press down a frond with the tips of her fingers. Beyond was a moonlit clearing.

  An instant later Myssa beckoned them. Piay peered at a strange creature throwing back its head to issue that baby cry. Clinging to a branch was a bundle of fur, smaller than a monkey, with huge round eyes. It glared at them and scampered up to the high branches.

  Hannu laughed. ‘What a strange place this is.’

  On they went, less troubled by the odd noises that emanated from the forest. After a while, Hannu dropped to his haunches and scraped his fingers across the ground.

  ‘A trail,’ he said. ‘Made by men.’

  Further on, the trail met a wide road rutted from the passage of carts. They trekked along it until they came to the edge of the trees. Ahead was a vast plain, silvered by the moonlight. Piay glanced up to the milky river of stars across the vault of the night. He remembered Hui talking about the Four Sons of Horus and he searched the sky until he found them. He felt comforted that they were there, watching over him so far from home.

  In the distance mountains rose, silhouetted against the sky, and closer, Piay could make out a fire flickering. A jumble of huts nestled on the grassland and Piay thought he could hear the drone of voices. A musky aroma drifted in the air, no doubt from whatever beasts they kept.

  Piay nodded, pleased. ‘We will venture there at first light.’

  T

  he flames licked up from the dry branches. Hannu leaned back from lighting the fire and handed around the dhourra cake – the ship’s dry biscuits – from the pouch at his waist. After delving into the forest, they’d nestled in a small hollow surrounded by snaking tree roots. Piay had been wary of any fire, but Myssa had warned him of the wild beasts that might be stalking among the trees – lions, she had said, and wild boar that could tear a man apart with their tusks. They had decided to take a risk to keep predators at bay.

  As Piay and Hannu gnawed on their biscuits, Myssa eyed them. Piay noticed her look of curiosity.

  ‘What is wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘The two of you have been friends for so long—’

  ‘Hannu is my assistant,’ Piay interrupted.

  Myssa grinned. ‘You have known each other for a long time. We can agree on that. Yet it seems to me that there are times when you barely know each other at all.’

  ‘What is there to know?’ Hannu shrugged.

  Myssa said, ‘Tell me what you think is your greatest skill.’

  ‘I am good in a fight, that is certain,’ Hannu mused. ‘But . . . I would say my greatest skill is that I can see into a man’s heart.’

  Piay snorted. ‘You think you are some kind of mage, now?’

  Hannu was unruffled. ‘I stare into the eyes and I see who that man is. What makes him. What troubles him. All is laid bare before me in an instant.’

  ‘Ah. So that night in the field, you looked at Sakir and thought, “There is a murderous barbarian who wants to cut down good Egyptians,”’ Piay mocked.

  ‘I saw a man with an emptiness inside him who has been trying to fill it by any means possible.’

  Piay shook his head.

  ‘And you?’ Myssa prompted. ‘What is your greatest skill?’

  ‘I am the best swordsman in all Egypt.’ Piay folded his hands behind his head. ‘And a great spy . . .’ He winced at the sound of his familiar boasts. He added, ‘I can sing. That is my greatest skill.’

  ‘I didn’t know you could sing,’ Hannu said.

  ‘You never asked.’

  Myssa clapped her hands together. ‘Let us hear you sing!’