Another nodded, a woman with braided blond hair and a long, rippling scar down one cheek. “Torcolus is right. A shadow fell over Deshret as the pharaoh slumbered. If Kree climbs to the throne, a true and endless night will come.”
“Then we must stop him,” Jake said.
“But the pharaoh may already be dead,” said a young man with a pocked face.
Djer shook his head, his eyes lost in calculation. “I know my cousin. As long as Nefertiti is free, he’ll bide his time.” He picked up one of the stones from the table and bounced it in his palm. “She’s a loose game piece, unpredictable. He’ll not make such a drastic move until he can see the entire field laid out before him.”
A knock at the door made them all jump.
Djer nodded for the man with the pocked skin to open it and for Nefertiti to hide her face again.
As the door opened, a scamp of a boy, about nine years old, burst into the room, all energy as if he’d downed a gallon of strong coffee. “I have word of the horns!”
Djer glanced to Jake and explained, “I sent runners to find out why the horns were blaring. To discern your fate.” He turned back to the boy, pulled a brass coin from a pocket, and placed it in the child’s palm. The coin quickly vanished.
Once paid, the boy spoke in a breathless rush. “They say that someone tried to poison Pharaoh Neferhotep. Outlanders. From Calypsos!” The boy spat on the floor. “Most have been caught, but one escaped. All the guards search for him. A reward of three hundred silver pieces is placed on his head. It is also whispered that he killed the princess. Or maybe the princess is under a spell. Or maybe she’s even helping them.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t put it past her to poison her own father.”
Djer gave the kid another coin, then scooted him out. “Thank you, Riku.”
Nefertiti folded back her hood. Jake expected her to be red faced with fury; but she looked crestfallen, her eyes moist with restrained tears. “Do you all think so ill of me?”
The blond woman spoke. “Under the shadow of the Blood of Ka, even that which is bright will appear dark.”
Jake felt a pang of sorrow for Nefertiti. She was prideful and willful, but how much of her spirit had been corrupted by Kree? He remembered how she had looked out in the desert: wild and free, out from under that monster’s shadow.
Another knock, and the door popped open again. Nefertiti barely got her hood up in time. It was the same boy, Riku. He slapped his forehead.
“I forgot to say! Those outlanders. They are to be sent to the Blood Games.”
Jake jolted, ready to rush him for more information.
Djer held Jake back and knelt beside the boy. “When will it be?”
“Sunrise!”
“Do you mean on the morrow?”
A fast nod. “Princess Layla is furious. Wants them killed before another day passes. They say she’s the one who exposed the plot of the outlanders. She’ll make a great queen one day!”
Djer bent to whisper in Riku’s ear. The boy nodded vigorously, took another coin, and sped out. Djer locked the door this time. His eyes were shadowed by worry.
“My cousin’s a crafty one. Pulling gold out of ashes. He paints Layla as the savior. None will speak against her … or against him if he marries her.”
“So all we’ve done is make the path to the throne easier for him,” Jake said sourly.
“There remains but two boulders in that path.” Djer looked at Jake and Nefertiti. “He will keep the pharaoh alive until you’re both captured. I suspect that’s why the games were set for the coming morning.”
Jake understood. “He wants to lure us out. He knows we’ll try to rescue the others.”
“Precisely.”
“Then what are we going to do?” Nefertiti asked.
“First, we’ve got to get you both somewhere safe, somewhere with fewer eyes. It only takes one person to misspeak and draw the palace guards here.”
“Then what are we going to do?” Jake said, holding back a growing panic.
“We’re going to do what my cousin wants. We’re going to rescue your friends.”
“How?”
Rather than answering Jake, Djer turned to the others. “For too long the resistance has smoldered, waiting for a chance like this.”
The old man named Torcolus spoke. “There is chance, Djer, then there is foolishness. We are not strong enough. We are too scattered, too few to make a move so soon.”
Djer shrugged. “We make a move now, or we’ll never make it. If Kree and his bloody-robed minions seize power, we’ve lost before we’ve even begun.”
The discussion waged back and forth; but slowly, one by one, Djer won them over. If Kree was anything like Djer, Jake began to understand how the Blood of Ka had grown to have such power.
At last, Djer turned to Jake with the full focus of his intense gaze. “You asked how earlier.”
Jake nodded. “How can we rescue my friends and sister?”
“With the pyramid locked down, the best opportunity is at the games in the morning. In fact, it’s our only chance.”
“But that doesn’t answer how,” Jake said.
Djer offered a smile of approval. “Nothing slithers past your sandals, does it, young man. How, you ask? The answer is simple: with a little help from above.”
A fist pounded on the door. From the way the boards shuttered, it certainly wasn’t the boy. Djer unlatched the door and pulled it open. The red-bearded giant whom they’d met in the alleyway lumbered inside. But he was no longer weaving—his gaze was dead steady.
He must have faked being drunk earlier.
Confirming that, the giant cocked an amused eyebrow at Jake.
He was the inn’s gatekeeper, checking on whoever came snooping at the door. The shock must have been plain on Jake’s face. A chuckle that sounded like grinding boulders flowed from the giant.
Djer frowned at the interruption. “What is it, Grymhorst?”
The giant stepped aside. “Heard from Riku that you were looking for these two.”
A pair of men moved past Grymhorst and entered the room: one tall and stately, the other squat and square. Jake knew them both.
Horus, the skymaster of the windrider, and Politor, the head mechanic.
Jake recalled Djer’s explanation of the rescue operation.
With a little help from above.
Jake smiled, finally understanding.
It wasn’t a bad plan.
21
A BAD PLAN
Dawn came rosy and cold.