The sudden attention made Assou’s senses falter. People were busy, almost as if they had become accustomed to a vizier in their ranks, and yet somewhere in between it all was someone who threatened to devour him. A watchful gaze he couldn’t filter out and yet it was so present on him that he had to take a deeper breath.

Then he started moving again. The easiest way to throw off or expose an observer was to sprint between paths and corners. It wasn’t the first time someone had shown too much interest, and it probably wasn’t the first time Assou had turned off into the back alleys of this town. People were rapidly reducing in these places, so several turnoffs could be taken without company. The murmur of trade faded into the background and only when he was sure he had the upper hand did he stop behind the next corner and press himself against the wall.

The heat could barely reach his skin. Only his feet were boiling, bathing his body in a strange contrast he couldn’t escape. His heart pounded quietly. The breath was warm on his lips. Tension rose as the silence passed him by in a low hiss. Every blink was full of expectation.

And yet no one wanted to turn the corner.

Assou waited a moment longer before the rigidity in his limbs loosened and he forced himself to glance down the path he had left behind. Sure enough, he caught sight of someone brushing along the walls in cautious steps. The simple calasiris ensnared a well-shaped body, and it took only two breaths for Assou to recognise the face.

“Dinem?” His voice was louder than expected as the slave’s attention chased in his direction. The unfamiliar jewellery around her neck clinked and as her feline eyes lingered on him, her shoulders slumped.

“Vizier...” She came closer in careful steps.

“You followed me.” He sighed. “Why?”

“I know I’m not in a position to take up your time,” she kneaded her hands, “but I’ve been looking for a gap to warn you about the Great Royal Queen for a while now.”

“Maathorneferure?”

She nodded as she looked at him. There was certainty in her eyes, a kind of conviction that most slaves lacked. The most important thing in the lowest ranks was to survive and not become the plaything of another who would snatch their life away as soon as the game ended. Far too many were used for fun, only to be discarded at the end. Everyone who had no value served for pleasure.

Dinem, however, was different.

She was the most sought-after slave in the palace. She was educated, knew how to articulate herself and also how to read, although she couldn’t write. Her cooking skills were acceptable - at least according to Bintanath - and she was good with her hands. Sewing a rip was no challenge for her. Her massages relaxed even the pharaoh and, although she probably didn’t know about many things, she knew exactly how to adapt. Her worth accumulated from all the little things she had gained to find a permanent place in the palace. Dinem didn’t have to worry about being thrown away, and yet in those seconds, it seemed like she was sacrificing all those things to warn him.

Perhaps that was the truth.

Catching the wrath of a Great Royal Queen was anything but helpful if one wanted to live a halfway comfortable life. If Maathorneferure said even one negative word about Dinem, she would be lost.

Assou’s shoulders suddenly weighed more than the stone of the pyramids. There was no reason for Dinem to put her post in jeopardy and yet she stood before him, looking at him as if everything depended on her report.

“I know the Great Royal Queen and I don’t get along. But you don’t need to worry about that.” He waved it off. “I can easily handle this woman myself.”

“Of course, I’m sure you can,” she confirmed. “But, Vizier, she’s planning something, and from what I’ve been able to gather, it’s supposed to be cruel. You would do well to keep your distance.”

Perhaps that was the best option, but it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as using the grave Maathorneferure was digging for him. It was only a slight argument, and if he played his cards right, she didn’t stand a chance. Her way of dealing with politics had already proved that she wasn’t cut out for it. He couldn’t lose. All it took was a little more attention not to be driven into a corner.

“I won’t hold back, Dinem,” the tjati finally replied. “I have better things to do than be intimidated by a foreign queen. But I thank you for your concern.”

The gentle smile on her lips made her charming. But Assou had no time to indulge in her optics. Work at the palace was waiting. So he nodded to her and turned away. The walk had already cost him enough energy.

The scenery cleared as quickly as the dark clouds that kept creeping over his senses. He couldn’t let Maathorneferure upset him any more than he could lose heart over Fatrada. Everything had to progress in small, steady steps, even if that meant it would take an eternity to see results. Primarily, he had to serve Ramesses II well. Everything else came second. Or third.

He sighed. His priorities shifted again with each encounter.

The palace came to the fore. The surrounding people became fewer, more noble, more noticeable. Near the king, no one of low status dared to trade. Here there were only great merchants with fine wares. Wine was offered at every corner. Fresh meat was prepared. The streets smelled of work and spices. Assou let himself be carried away by the atmosphere. His pace slowed. Watching the offerings was a bit of freedom he savoured before hieroglyphics were the only thing left surrounding him.

Still, the goods only passed him by and it took him little longer to reach the entrance of the palace. Slaves brought drinks to the guards nearby, while serene silence echoed along the walls. It was too hot to do any serious work. Presumably, even Ramesses had withdrawn to rest his heated thoughts. A short time in the garden usually brightened his mind.

Assou let the idea wander. Spending time between attractive greenery would indeed have been a pleasant change of pace. However, it was also time that would be lost to him and although no one forced him to work and he controlled his chaos well, every moment away from his tasks seemed wasted - unless Fatrada was the content of his sparse breaks.

No sooner had he set foot inside than he was met by two slaves with jugs of wine. One offered him something to drink and while the tjati waited to be served, he gestured to the other to get something done.

“Get me a messenger. I need him immediately.”

With a deep bow, the slave left. Assou, meanwhile, took a sip of the sweet wine and let the moist sensation wet his sandy throat. Then he glanced over his shoulder, straight at the town that lay a few yards behind him. It was uniform, friendly life looking back at him. Humanity that the gods allowed on this land. Simultaneously, he thought he could see in the distance how much worse the circumstances were becoming. Some citizens were nibbling away at the poverty they had been left with and, although it wasn’t meant to be this way, there was no way to change. Not in his position.

He twisted his mouth. Ultimately, it all came down to the value an individual brought with them as they all tried to measure up to Aa and Wai. Everyone wanted to be closest to the gods, and perhaps that was why the standing of a single city could be so different.

“Vizier, a messenger, as requested.” The slave who had been sent away spoke up, snapping Assou out of his thoughts and making him glance at the boy who had been brought to him. It was the same one who usually worked for him. Presumably, they had found him in the palace and taken him instead of ordering one of the royal messengers.

With a shooing hand gesture, he signalled the slave to disappear. He needed the quiet. No one could know what he was planning, even if Maathorneferure was unlikely to be unaware of his moves.

“Vizier, I wasn’t finished with my search. There is no new information. And yet I returned to report to you that I need more time.” Uncertainly, the boy kneaded his fingers as his wide eyes rested on Assou. The latter gave him a smile.

“That isn’t why I had you come. Forget Nagib for a moment.” He crouched down to put his hands on the boy’s bare shoulders. He was hot; as if the sun was cooking him, though this child roamed light-heartedly through the shadows.

“You probably know that Fatrada had a day off the other day. Can you tell me what she does with her free time?”

“I’m not sure,” the boy replied. “But I’ve seen her out in the fields a few times late at night. I think she goes for a walk.”

“Well then, I want you to watch Fatrada from now on,” the tjati continued. “If you see her walking alone in the fields, I want you to come to me immediately.”

“I will!” Obediently, the boy bowed before turning around and running away on fast feet. He knew there was no hurry, and yet escape seemed a part of his existence.

Assou watched him go until he could no longer even see the shadow of his messenger. Only then did he turn towards the interior of the palace, only to have Dinem’s words once more register in his senses. She was nowhere to be seen for miles, but her warning was there - deep in his conscience.

His thoughts pushed her aside.

Leisurely, he disappeared inside the palace, leaving sand, dust and people behind him to indulge in tranquillity. All the way to his chamber, where he dropped behind his table and put his head in his hands. Then silence enveloped him. The air to breathe was heavy in his lungs and his senses spun. The heat was taking its toll; so was the reflection he couldn’t control. Both consumed him.

The mewing of a cat demanded his attention, drawing his gaze straight to the wondrous eyes of Amenti, who had settled on the table before him. Her fur shone, her slender form conveyed fragility, and this time Assou didn’t dare stroke her. She was too mighty, too mystical for that in these moments - closest to Bastet.

“You come too soon if you long for a meal.” Without further ado, Assou leaned back. The cat mewed. “Shouldn’t you be spending your time with Ammon and Kuss instead? I don’t think I’m better company.”

She stared him down before jumping off the table and actually walking to the door, making the tjati gather up again to open it for her. Her small paws led her out, and it was only when he closed the door that her presence also faded. Amenti was certainly the strangest cat that lived in this palace. But she was the only friendship he cultivated.

He took it with a smile before settling down again behind his table and looking at the papyrus scrolls. A few of them he still had to read. The rest were to be sorted and put on the shelves. It wasn’t much and yet it was an effort of hours staring him in the face. And somewhere behind these tasks, something lay heavy as stone on his shoulders.

His gaze fell on the stone slab.

Did he want to win this game?