Page 30 of Beyond the Ruby River
Later, when the sun hung high overhead, and Daka’s skin had grown so sweaty his tunic stuck to him in places, he was startled from his stupor by a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Young man, are you all right?” The voice was deep, rumbling its way to Daka’s lazy ears. The man had been repeating himself, Daka realized. He gave Daka’s shoulder another little shake.
Daka hauled himself upright, eyes crispy with dried, salty tears, head pounding with every thump of his heartbeat.
“You’re not all right at all, are you?” The man sat back on his haunches.
Daka swiped the crust from his eyes so he could get a better look at him. An older fellow, built stout, his hair cropped unfashionably short. On his face, a kind expression tinged with worry. In his hand, a leather drinking pouch. He extended it to Daka.
“Thank you.” Daka rasped out the words through his scratchy throat and took a gulp. He choked. Water sputtered from his lips.
“Slow down. You’re overheated. Small sips are best.”
Nodding, Daka followed the advice all the while chastising himself for his idiocy. He’d gone and gotten his heart broken, all his fault, and worse still he’d broken Mahu’s. Disgraceful. Now he’d made himself sick.
The water cooled his parched throat, settling uncomfortably in his churning stomach. He handed the pouch back to the man.
“You should come inside.” He gestured to the home next to the garden. “Have some broth.”
Daka shook his head. He wasn’t fit for company and wanted only to be alone. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I’ll go on home now.” To prove his point, he rose to his feet, careful to stay balanced and strong so the well-meaning stranger would let him leave without guilt.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.” Daka managed a false smile. “Thank you for the water.”
Daka left without turning to see how long the man watched.
Disoriented, he glanced to the sky. Hours must have passed while he lay on that bench. Mahu would be at the temple, seeking to rid himself of Daka’s curses. If only he’d been able to convince him of at least that much. Mahu remained pure. Daka carried the curses all on his own.
Shoulders hanging low, feet trudging forward, Daka made it back to his room at the inn. He stayed only long enough to strip off the clothes and jewelry he’d put on for Mahu’s benefit, change into a simpler tunic, and pack his bags. He left the piles of papyrus he’d made as payment for the room, then he left Naukratis behind for good.
9
Mahu
Days passed in a hazy blur of sorrow. After the soul-shattering discovery, Mahu had flown straight to the temple priests. He’d expected them to recognize him as cursed from forty paces, expected the evil to stain his skin scarlet like blood, expected his soul was past the possibility of saving…but the priests treated him no different than any day before this.
“Mahu,” they’d greeted, welcoming him as always. “How are you?”
Stunned, Mahu wondered why they couldn’t detect any curses tainting his eternal spirit. Had Daka hidden them somehow?
I would never hurt anyone. I’m not bad, Mahu.
But Mahu couldn’t believe anything Daka had said. The demon lied about his very nature, what else would he lie about?
The priest had stared at him, waiting for a response.
In the end, Mahu hadn’t told the priest what he’d done. He mentioned only the coughing fit and thought perhaps upon examination, the rest would be discovered.
It wasn’t.
When Mahu asked specifically of demons and whether or not he was at risk, the priest had shaken his head and warmly encouraged him that all was well.
After a thorough assessment, Mahu had been sent home with a jar of thick honey. The directions were to mix it with hot water and juice of a citrus fruit, then drink the concoction each evening, or in the event of another coughing spell.
No trouble with demons. Not a word breathed of curses. The priest hadn’t known.
I would never hurt anyone. I’m not bad, Mahu.
