24: Sins

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It was nearing midnight by the time the royal convoy rode quietly into the township of Set-Ma'at. With the exception of a few soldiers barking orders, not a word had been spoken since the start of their journey. Atem, riding near the back of the column, was one of the last to see the sleepy village rising up out of the darkness. Firelight danced along its mudbrick rooftops, and heavy smoke seeped down to the path before them, kicked into ghostly swirls by their horses' hooves.

Even at this late hour, many residents came out to see the king and his court making their way through town. Tomb keepers and artisans and vagabonds alike all stood huddled on their doorsteps, wrapped in blankets and exchanging hushed whispers as the column rode by, two-abreast and flanked on either side by a menacing line of foot soldiers.

Atem swept his eyes from side to side, stopping only when his gaze crossed Satiah's where she rode silently beside him. The stars were just barely bright enough to illuminate her form against the cliffside, and in the smoldering light Atem thought she resembled a warrior-queen of old: her upper body clad in a shaped leather breastplate, her forearms protected by thick bronze bracers. Her hair had been swept up into a low, twisted plait at the nape of her neck, and her fringes were smoothed into place by a thick headband.

She offered a determined smile as he surveyed her, and Atem forced himself to return it, remembering the flame they'd ignited in their bedchamber barely an hour earlier — and how quickly it had been snuffed out. Atem was surprised by how easily Satiah had brushed aside the tender moment — by the time Shimon had left their room, she was already preparing herself for the journey, and as usual, no amount of protesting seemed sufficient to convince her to stay behind. He knew he should feel grateful for her support, but he found himself more nervous than ever to have her riding by his side. Without her ka, Satiah would be no more than an ibis in a crocodile nest if danger were to arise.

Pushing these thoughts from his mind, Atem returned his eyes to the path ahead. They departed Set-Ma'at almost as soon as they'd entered it, treading carefully along a treacherous path southward. He had never been on this road either by horse or by foot, and as it steepened upward, the column was forced to slow their pace even further. Soon, the foot soldiers were squeezed into a single file line, allowing Atem a clear view into the deep ravine below. Even in the cool desert night, he felt his brow breaking with sweat.

To distract himself, he focused on the prize at the end of the trail — the village of Kul Elna, and, concealed somewhere within its broken embrace, the hidden chamber which had vexed Atem's thoughts since the last time he'd found himself in the Valley of the Kings. A knife of grief cut across his heart as he remembered laying his brother to rest among his ancestors, just on the other side of the ridge from where they now rode.

Suddenly, a loud shout caused the convoy to stagger to a stop. The horses neighed in protest, and Atem had to cinch up tight on his reins to keep his steed from backing up off the side of the ledge. Ahead, Seto, who had been leading the column with Mahad, stepped down off his horse and disappeared over the crest of the hill. He returned a moment later and half-mounted his horse again, standing with one foot in the stirrup of his saddle to address the rest of the convoy.

"Just down the hill is the village," he announced loudly. "Soldiers, light your torches and ready your arms. Follow me." He swung his other leg over his horse, then snapped his reins to lead on.

It was several moments before the convoy had moved enough for Atem to glimpse the village below. In truth, the word "village" was ill-suited to describe the ruined landscape — only the shattered husks of buildings were visible in the winnowing light, and any path which had once led the way between them was now indistinguishable from the jagged rocks and stones. It was clear the earth had nearly sheared itself in half here — part of the town had been thrust up several feet, creating a crooked gully on one side and a windswept cliff face on the other.

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