Marika turned to him. “The Blood of Ka.”
“He said they were stirring up trouble, cracking down on people.” Jake nodded to another house. “He also mentioned something about Blood Games.”
Marika paled. “Do you think all those families are dead?”
“They’re definitely not home,” Pindor said dourly. He wiped sweat from his face and glowered at the sun overhead.
By now they’d reached the inner wall and passed through another arched gateway. It was like stepping from a loud party into a funeral. The people lining the streets were mostly Egyptians. They stood stiffly, many shaded by wide umbrellas. They nodded as the princess passed; but Nefertiti ignored them and stayed slumped in her palanquin, lost in worries, judging by the way she absently chewed the knuckle of a finger.
“Happy place,” Kady whispered.
As they marched down the main street, Jake studied the Egyptian section of Ka-Tor. Constructed out of black stone blocks, the homes stood taller here, some rising three stories. None were painted, giving this region of the city a stern appearance; but peeks through doorways revealed a brighter heart to these homes: tiled floors, statues, even wooden furniture—a rarity, considering how few trees must grow out in the desert. Most of the dwellings also had courtyards with their own tinkling fountains and flowering desert vines.
But even here Jake spotted a home sealed and painted with the skull of Ka. So even the Egyptians suffered under the thumb of that cult.
“Looks like they’re taking us to the pyramid,” Marika said, drawing back Jake’s attention. “I think that must be the royal palace.”
He stared toward the end of the street where a four-sided pyramid climbed twenty stories. It looked as if it had been sculpted out of a single block of stone, much like the desert outpost. An arched tunnel gave entry at the base of the pyramid. Windows glowed along the sloped sides. Balconies dotted the higher levels.
Definitely people living in there.
And Marika was right. Soldiers in full armor gathered at the opening at the base of the pyramid to greet the returning princess. This had to be the royal palace.
Once near the entrance, Nefertiti climbed out of her palanquin and rushed forward to meet a clutch of black-robed figures huddled like a blood clot in the shadow of the tunnel. Her words, sharp with worry, reached Jake as he and his friends were marched forward to join her.
“I’ve heard word that my father has woken!”
The tallest of the group broke away from the others and bowed deeply. His face was hidden by a cowl. The Blood of Ka symbol had been embroidered in crimson on his ankle-length robe. As he straightened, he shook back his cowl.
Marika let out a small gasp and covered her mouth.
The man looked as handsome as a film star, like an Egyptian James Bond. His eyes sparkled, and his features were somehow both rugged and soft, all supported by a square chin. He offered the smallest of smiles to Nefertiti, which hinted at the well of charms hidden beneath the surface.
But Jake knew Marika’s reaction had nothing to do with his movie star good looks. It was what glowed upon the man’s forehead. A third eye had been tattooed above his eyebrows, so perfect that it looked real.
“Such glad tidings,” the man said. “The pharaoh has indeed woken from his slumber and asks for you.”
“I must go up to him!” Nefertiti sidestepped the man and headed toward the arched opening into the pyramid.
“And what of your prisoners?” the man called after her.
Nefertiti glanced back, pinching her brows together in irritation. “I leave them to you, Master Kree. They say they are from Calypsos.”
The man stiffened in shock. For a moment, something ugly flashed across those handsome features. But it vanished, like a fish darting back underwater.
“Calypsos … surely that can’t be true.”
Nefertiti waved away such doubts. “That is for you and your witch to decide. I must see my father.”
The eyes of Master Kree—all three of them—focused on Jake, Marika, Pindor, Bach’uuk, and Kady in turn. “Take them to the dungeons. I will question them in a moment.”
That didn’t sound good.
Their guards closed more tightly around Jake’s group.
Kady protested when a spear poked through her shirt. She slapped it away. “Do you know how much this blouse costs?”
As they were marched into the pyramid, Jake glanced at one of the guards. Their eyes met. The giant black man looked ashamed. Jake knew why.
“We helped you,” Jake said. “Back on the windrider.”
The guard didn’t speak. He only eyed Master Kree as they passed. A tiny shake of his head warned Jake to be quiet.
Once inside, they were quickly marched down a narrow, spiral ramp that drilled deep underground, lit by torches at every turn. Oily smoke crawled across the low ceiling, drifting upward, seeking a way out.
Bach’uuk studied one of the torches with a crinkled brow as they passed, plainly bothered by something.
Before Jake could ask, the guard finally leaned closer, his voice a low rumble. “It pains me to do this to you, but the Blood of Ka must be obeyed. Kree has ears everywhere and wields powerful alchemies. None dare speak against him. They’d end up rotting here. Or worse, used as sport in their bloody games.”
The guard stared heavenward. “With the pharaoh waking, we all pray things may change.” His eyes found Jake again. “But first, Outlander, you must live long enough for that to happen. So be careful. Master Kree is not an enemy you want to make.”
They had reached the bottom of the ramp and were blocked by a large iron door sculpted with screaming faces.
“What are they going to do?” Pindor asked, sidling up to Jake.
The answer came as the massive door swung open. Beyond the threshold spread a domed cavern lit by a central flaming pit. Surrounding the pyre stood a circle of racks and tables, draped with chains and shackles. A single, bare-chested giant wearing a leather kilt sharpened a set of knives with a dreadful snick-snicking sound. Bald-headed and scarred, the dungeon master looked more like an ogre than a man. He turned as they entered and smiled.
Marika clutched Jake’s elbow.
All of the man’s teeth had been filed to sharp points.
The dungeon master pointed to an open cell along the back wall. They were forced toward it by the guards. To either side were more cells cut out of the rock, sealed with stout wooden doors. Tiny barred windows revealed pale faces, some wrapped in bloody bandages. A ghostly moan echoed out from a cell that seemed set off from the others, set deeper in the rock.