The City of Refuge: Book 1 of The Memphis Cycle Read Online Free PDF

Sherit watched, a team of restive horses was coaxed aboard and tethered by the mast.
    Sherit held Khonsu's hand as she leaned forward. “Papa, look! There's the Nomarch! He waved to me!”
    Lord Nebamun, in full priestly regalia, was speaking quietly with Count Tothotep. His entourage surrounded him in a tight knot. The Second Prophet looked up in time to see Sherit waving. He smiled and gave her a formal bow, hands to heart, that brought all eyes toward Sherit and Khonsu.
    “Who's that?” Sherit asked, wide-eyed with surprise as she hesitantly returned the bow with a shy smile.
    “That is Lord Nebamun,” Khonsu said. “He is the second highest priest of Ptah, and he'll be leading this expedition.”
    “He looks like—like Horus!” Sherit breathed.
    Nebamun had touched the Governor's shoulder and spoke quietly with him. He was frowning slightly, but the frown changed to a warm smile; he bowed once more, to Sherit's delight.
    Khonsu looked down at Sherit. “It's time to go, Sweetheart,” he said, lifting her in a sudden, anguished hug. “Give me a kiss! Promise to obey your aunt.”
    She clung to him for a moment. “Will it take you long to get there?” she asked.
    “Just till tomorrow,” he replied. “I'll be thinking of you all that time. I wish I didn't have to leave!”
    “I'll be fine, Papa,” she said. “You wait and see. Aunt Hatshepset says she'll fatten me up so you won't recognize me!”
    “Don't overdo it,” he said, his voice catching on a laugh. “You're just now getting better, and I don't want you to be sick like that ever again! What would I do without you?”
    “You'll always have me,” she said with a child's heartbreaking confidence.
    “I'll miss you,” he said, releasing her. “Be careful, and grow strong!” He kissed her again, set her down, and stepped down from his chariot. “Take her to my sister Hatshepset's house,” he told his driver. “And thank you. Be good, Sweetheart, for me.”
    He watched them drive away, then squared his shoulders, drew a deep breath, mounted the gangplank, and presented his credentials.
    Lord Nebamun was speaking urgently with the Nomarch, who seemed a little vexed. A scribe was making notations on a whitewashed board as they spoke; time enough for Khonsu to make his way to them. He closed his eyes and fought down his worry at leaving Sherit. She had been so ill…
    The Nomarch had arrived at the head of the gangplank. He bowed to Lord Nebamun and descended to the quay.
    Khonsu lowered his head, returned the Nomarch's smile, and looked around at the others on the ship as the lines securing the boom were cast loose at a word from the Captain.
    The sail unfurled, rippling in the wind. It steadied, caught, and billowed out as the sailors made the boom fast. Slowly, but with increasing force, the ship moved away from the dock. Twin banks of oars emerged, dipped twice, and then withdrew as the sails filled with the wind, swelled and grew taut, drawing Prince of the Winds southward.
    Khonsu turned and went to the stern railing to gaze upon the receding roofline of Khemnu, trying to pinpoint his sister's house and wondering if Sherit would be unhappy without him.
    Lord Nebamun was there before him, his eyes fixed on the docks of Khemnu and the figure of the Nomarch. His expression was as unreadable as a block of flint, except for the line of his mouth. As Khonsu watched, he bit his lower lip and turned toward Khonsu.
    “A beautiful day to begin a journey, Your Grace,” said Khonsu with a bow as the Second Prophet saw him.
    Nebamun looked back toward Khemnu one last time, then turned to face Khonsu. “Yes,” he said. “A magnificent beginning.” He nodded and turned to watch the banks of the river slip past. He was silent for so long that Khonsu, thinking himself dismissed, started to turn away.
    Nebamun's voice moved smoothly into his thoughts. “We were interrupted by the arrival of your man, Hutor, my first night in Khemnu,” he said. “I