She had left him standing there with a laugh, just like that, as if he had let out something amusing that pulled her tightly and carried her away. His confession had disappeared deep into the night and Assou thought it might have faded away somewhere between houses and chores. Long after Fatrada had listened to him.

The sigh on the tjati’s lips stuck to the walls that enclosed him like a cage. In front of him lay an open papyrus scroll and, though he had wanted to work through it ages ago, all he felt was the certainty of sitting in this place and creating nothing. The bulrush in his hand had dried up and the silence that engulfed him drew his thoughts in the wrong direction.

The evening he had spent together with Fatrada was already two days in the past. There was no longer any reason to recall her smile. Soon he could visit her again at the market. There was still hope that one day he could hold her in his hands. All he had to do until then was to complete Ramesses’ tasks.

Duties that weren’t diminishing.

The click of his tongue broke the silence as he threw the rush on the table and shook his head. Then he put his hands in front of his eyes, propped his elbows on the table and concentrated on breathing. The oxygen in his lungs was hot and heavy, making even breathing more complicated than it should be. Fatrada was robbing him of his mind, he couldn’t doubt that. It was real. She had a power over him that no one else held. She was the woman of his dreams and simultaneously the downfall of his position if he didn’t get his act together.

He lingered in his position a little longer before slapping his cheeks with both hands and tightening his shoulders. The work wasn’t doing itself and apart from that, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been able to get anything together in the last few days. The slaves’ circumstances had settled. Many workers had replaced the lost goods of their own free will to feed their families better and after extensive discussions with Ramesses, the pharaoh had also decided that he had to treat his own people better than outsiders. Thus, the wages of some were assured, the taxes of the families were reduced and the entries were almost complete. Only a few names were still missing from the neatly kept list Assou had prepared. Another document for the shelves where sand and dust gathered.

A mew.

Instantly, Assou snapped out of his posture and glanced sideways as the cracking sound in his back coursed through his entire body. Next to him, Amenti had settled down. The black fur shone in the incoming light, and yet he thought she looked dusty.

“Where have you been?” Brows raised, he bent to the cat to pat the dirt from her fur with gentle movements. She remained seated, taking the attention and looking at him from impenetrable emeralds – as if he had forgotten something.

“I don’t have anything. You’re early,” the tjati went on, half in thought. She probably understood him better than he understood her. At least some days, she responded appropriately to his words. Meanwhile, she gave him peace of mind. Whenever Amenti appeared, it was easy to forget Fatrada. The soft fur, the growl in her throat, all these little things put the past and the coming into the background. With Amenti, only the moment mattered.

The thought made him smile wearily. “You could say that you are indeed my only friend.”

A cat, of all things; a creature that was completely alien in its kind. She was an emissary of the goddess Bastet and yet she was more approachable than any deity on record. He meant no disrespect, but Amenti felt more real under his fingers than any prayer he had uttered as a child.

As the cat rose and gained distance, Assou took the moment to stretch. The distraction, away from Fatrada and the duties of his position, had formed a pocket of air that allowed him to take a breath. It gave him easy, faux freedom to cling to – if only for a moment. Then another sigh followed and the weight that settled on his shoulders like an old friend greeted him familiarly. His gaze roamed the room, only to linger on the open door through which Amenti had presumably entered – the entrance from which he had expected more than a cat.

After returning from his walk with Fatrada, he had sent for his messenger. Watching Nagib’s activities was the only hope he had left after the rejection and although he had told the boy to report back daily, he hadn’t come back once in all that time. The land seemed to have swallowed him up and no matter how Assou looked at it, the aftertaste remained bland.

He had to do something about it.

Without further ado, Assou pulled himself to his feet. His study faded into the background, Amenti into oblivion, and his first stop was in the kitchen, where he wordlessly grabbed a jug of wine and filled one cup twice. With that, the taste on his tongue disappeared, but the restlessness remained.

His path led him on, this time out of the palace, to a point where the common messengers bustled about, resting. He had told the boy to stay within range, which also meant that he was either resting in a messenger’s camp and possessed of an explanation, or that he was still going about his task. He knew this child wasn’t a disappointment. He had been well served, and all his wishes had been fulfilled. That he brought no word back meant that there had to be a reason, and it was an open secret that sometimes someone disappeared on the paths of the land. If the boy had been in danger, it was solely on the vizier’s orders.

Assou didn’t want to think about it. So much bad in such a short time was not a punishment he deserved with all his work. In addition, there were other options. Maybe the boy didn’t want to report because there was nothing to report. Results were important and few people reported when they had nothing. He was a good kid. A smart kid who knew his post.

The small messengers’ shelter drew closer with each step. The mass of people slid past them as if they were nothing more than shadows of the sand. It was the perfect condition to get information unseen while believing that no one had anything to hide. But after the night in Maathorneferure’s chambers at the latest, Assou knew everyone was hiding a secret.

A few children had gathered under the stand. Some of them sat on the floor massaging their legs, others slept. Only one of them looked like he was going to make a run for it, and Assou hurried to reach him before he ran off.

“You there!” He raised his hands to signal the boy he would claim a moment, and though this child’s feet were set to run, he ultimately stopped and waited for the tjati to arrive.

“How can I help, sir?” The timid voice was so soft that the vizier could barely hear it. He had to listen carefully for a moment before he understood.

“I am looking for a messenger boy. I assigned him to watch someone for me and asked that he would come back to me every day to tell me what he had experienced. But he has been missing for two days and I would be lying if I said I didn’t care.” Without further ado, Assou pulled out two gold coins. “Would you help me look for him?”

The boy eyed the payment before nodding cautiously and tilting his head barely a moment later. “What does he look like?”

“He...” Assou only knew how to start, but not how to form the sentences. Looking at the child in front of him and looking at the other messenger boys, there was little to distinguish them. They all had bare torsos. Their feet were dirty and defenceless. No jewellery, no distinctive features on their faces. They all wore the same haircut. It was impossible to describe his messenger without mentioning all the others at once.

The boy opposite him followed Assou’s gaze before putting on a faint smile. “You noticed?”

“It’s ... very hard not to notice,” Assou replied. “But it makes it harder to find someone.”

“That’s the point,” the boy replied. “If one of us gets into trouble, we can all help and lead the threat astray. But I believe there is concern in your heart. So tell me, what mission did you give the boy?”

Assou took the time to look at the messenger a moment longer. They were all a smart little bunch. Trusting them could be a curse and a blessing in one. But his messenger was missing, and these children were the only clue he had.

“He was supposed to shadow a man named Nagib for me. He works in the field, growing wheat and simultaneously is attached to young Fatrada from the wheat stall,” the tjati explained in the end. “It isn’t a dangerous assignment, as I’m sure Nagib wouldn’t lay a hand on a young boy.”

Hastily, Assou closed his mouth. What made him so sure? He didn’t know Fatrada’s man. Perhaps he had indeed done something to the young messenger. Anything was possible, and yet a tiny spark inside didn’t want to believe that this man was capable of it. Fatrada wouldn’t forgive him. Never. There had to be another answer, and yet Assou could hardly think of anything but Nagib.

“I see.” The boy’s thoughtfulness towards him snapped him out of his thoughts. Resting a small hand against his chin, he finally nodded and looked at the vizier one more time. “I am sure I know who you are looking for, sir. I will seek him out and bring him to you.” He held out a hand. “But I am putting myself in uncertain danger by doing so. Understand if I wish to claim the reward at once.”

“The main thing is that I get an answer.” Without further ado, Assou pressed the coins into the boy’s hand and watched him disappear. His scrawny legs carried him away so quickly that Assou couldn’t even count to ten before he was just a pale shadow in the middle of others.

The sigh on his lips weighed heavily despite this, and it took him an eternity to break free from his spot to turn around. This boy would seek him out at the palace, of that he was sure. After all, his position wasn’t a secret any more than his home was. In shuffling movements, Assou dragged himself towards the palace. But the bigger the structure grew, the more something ate at his body. Not even when he glanced back could he see the reason. The only thing he understood was that he didn’t want to go back. Not yet.