City of the Dead

the ceiling. The furniture was simple in design, but it was all of blackwood decorated with gold leaf. There were two chairs, a couch and a low table. On the table, the wine jug and beakers were of gold, and near them a silver-gilt bowl contained expensive d ‘ epeh fruit.
    Awe mingled with amusement in Huy’s heart. He had told Nehesy that he was working for the queen - a lie of convenience to get him what he wanted; and now that lie was about to be turned into truth. The slight creature sitting at the table, a brown slip of a girl not sixteen, dressed in a plain cream robe edged with silver, her dark hair adorned with a circlet of thin gold on the front of which the uræus reared, looked at him nervously. In the course of their conversation she had let her regal dignity slip as she had relaxed, unburdening herself of fear.
    ‘Do you think it is a judgement upon us by the Aten?’ she asked timidly.
    ‘The Aten does not judge. It only exists passively, to be made use of by us. Just as a cat or a hawk has no power over us except that which exists in our hearts.’
    ‘But we turned from it. We changed our names.’
    ‘The king ceased to be the Living Image of Aten, and became the Living Image of Amun. If there are gods at all, I think they are above the tricks we play to stay alive.’
    ‘But if there is no principle, what is the point of existence?’
    ‘There has to be belief to fuel principle, or it has no point itself. And does existence need to be justified? You were - forgive me _ both too young to have made up your minds.’
    ‘Whatever the reason, it has cost me dear.’
    ‘The most important thing now is to make sure the little god inside you does not come to harm.’
    ‘Or goddess.’
    ‘Quite,’ replied Huy, pleased to see a revival of spirit.
    ‘You may sit down if you wish,’ said Ankhsenpaamun. She had been fortunate to inherit more of her mother’s features than her father’s, though his lips and high cheekbones had come down to her. Her eastern eyes were large and dark; mature and candid.
    Huy, trembling at such informality in front of his queen, did so.
    ‘You wonder why I sent for you.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘You have friends. A former friend, Taheb. The shipowner.’
    ‘I remember her.’
    ‘I am sure you do,’ replied the queen, with the faintest hint of humour in her voice. ‘I think you were close once.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I want you to find out what happened to the king. It will be difficult for me to help you; but I can pay you. Only your work must be done secretly.’
    Huy was silent for a moment. He asked himself whether he could tell her that he had already been engaged on similar terms y Ay. He wondered how much deeper the water would get.
    ‘You have your own resources.’
    She made a gesture of impatience. ‘I can trust very few people. Even when my lord was alive we were virtual prisoners here. And that is the other thing I want you to look after: my safety.’
    ‘Is there any reason to think you are in danger?’
    She looked at him. ‘Do not play the fool to draw me out, I carry the succession in my birth-cave. I carry that which will thwart the ambitions of Horemheb and my grandfather. The only difference between them is that Ay might not kill me though he would not baulk at drowning the child.’
    ‘I had heard that your grandfather had other plans.’
    Her mouth curved in a bitter smile. ‘To marry me? That would not save my child; he would try to get one of his own on me. But I doubt if he will dare propose marriage in the face of Horemheb. He would have to destroy the general first, and I am not sure that he has that much power.’ She paused a moment, looking inside her heart. ‘But on the other hand Horemheb has declared his ambition by marrying my aunt. The race for the succession has started.’
    ‘Are you a competitor?’
    ‘You are a clever man, Huy. But I know how hollow the feeling is when you sit on the Golden Chair. My ambition is humbler: it is to survive. One day, perhaps, Ay and Horemheb will destroy each other. Then there will be a place for my child. But the first thing is to make sure it lives to see that day.’
    She looked at him again, childish uncertainty creeping behind the sophistication in her eyes. ‘I have already been too frank. But you have to start trusting somewhere.’ She paused, still hesitating, and bit her lip. ‘There is a plan. You cannot be a party to it. Even before my husband was killed his successor had been