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and gasps.
    “Oh, so sorry to frighten you. You
must have been deep in thought.”
    I walk around to the side of the
desk so I can see his face, but he continues to look down.
Trembling, he tucks the letter into his robe’s deep
pocket.
    “Oh, you are shaking. Have you not
had your breakfast yet?” I notice the untouched tray of breads,
figs, and wine on the three-legged low table beside his desk. “You
have not touched a morsel.” I click my tongue twice. “We must not
spoil this offering.”
    I turn back to see Khons, quaking
as he grips his desk for support, and I motion him to sit on a
cushion at the table.
    He shakes his head and says, “I am
waiting for Aapep to come and assist me into the city.”
    “Well, that is perfect. Have a
seat, and we can put something in our bellies while you
wait.”
    He glances toward the door,
searching for some way out. I smile, knowing he can’t make his way
down the corridor without assistance. Hesitant, he hobbles over,
protecting the pocket.
    “What business do you have in the
city this early?”
    He coughs a few times, clearly
trying to gain time to think. “I requested permission to record the
execution of your slave this morning. I think it will be important
to document it.”
    How clever he thinks he
is.
    I stare at his face—so odd with its
many tiny spots—a thing of rarity among people of dark
skin.
    “Oh yes, yes. Good idea. You are so
wise, Khons.”
    I touch his hand, and he recoils
slightly. I draw back, place goblets in front of us, and fill them,
the scarlet liquid spinning for a moment as Khons watches the
door.
    “Ah, thank you, truly a feast.
Khons, can you fetch me that knife on your desk to cut the
bread?”
    As he turns his back to get the
sharp knife, I spill the contents of a small flask into his
goblet.
    He returns and
says, “ I will do
the honor of cutting, thank you.”
    I smile. He thinks I might harm him
with the knife. He slices the wide flatbread, wraps the knife in
linen, and tucks it away in the satchel worn at his side. I can
hardly contain my laughter—he thinks he avoided a threat! Khons
picks up his goblet with a tremorring, spotted hand and drinks
thirstily. He replaces it and is mid-chew on a large piece of bread
when he begins to choke.
    He spits his bread at me and gasps
out, “You murderer! You have Nun’s blood on your hands and now
mine!”
    He reaches up, holding his neck,
gagging as frothy blood dribbles out of the corners of his
mouth.
    He drops to the floor and gurgles,
“May Ra eat your heart!”
    One last rattle and his eyes go
blank as his breathing ceases. In haste, I wipe his mouth, pick up
his bony body, and place it at his desk. Putting the inked reed in
his hand, I leave it propped on an empty piece of paper. Aapep will
soon be here and surmise he died alone. I drink my wine and spill
the poisoned wine into a linen cloth, wiping out any remnants. As I
am leaving, I realize I forgot the most important thing! I reach
into his robe and remove the vital scroll.
    Foolish Khons.
     
    ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
     
    Once home, I take the letter out in
the safety of my dwelling and read his perfect writing:
    Most Esteemed Vizier,
    I write to you with heavy guilt
and shame that I did not have the courage or pure heart to speak
out in court yesterday. I had a difficult time deciding if the life
of a slave was equal to the life of a skilled and trusted priest.
It took a night of soul-searching and much lamenting to realize
that my heart would not be light on Anubis’s scales if an innocent
slave were put to death, wrongly accused. I was present in the
dream chamber awaiting my incubation when I overheard two lovers
talking of a secret and forbidden meeting.
    The male, who I can identify as
Sokaris, Dream Magician of the House of Life, reassured the female,
the Royal Daughter, that all would be well with his slave watching
out for them. I have to confess, at risk of punishment on my own
part, that I thought