Page 52 of Beyond the Ruby River
The others caught up to Imi, and introductions were made all around. They were repeated as Sebek arrived with Meri and their girls Sadek and Sadeh. It took the four young girls no time to demand their gifts from Mahu.
Kita led the charge. “What did you bring us today?”
Mahu gave a playful shrug. “Perhaps I’m all out of jokes. Perhaps you’ve grown too old for them, and now you must entertain yourselves.”
Imi wasn’t having it. “That’s not true. You wouldn’t have forgotten us.”
“Please, Mahu?” said the twins at once.
Mahu couldn’t hold out against the combined efforts of all four. He gave in, reaching to the inner pocket of his tunic and drawing out the tiny scrolls, one for each girl. Each had a different color ribbon to tie it closed.
“No fighting over these.” He held them out, and in seconds the little papyri were snatched away by four sets of grabby hands.
“Now go on, get off with you,” said Meri, shooing them away. “Go play.”
The giggling girls scampered afield. They had their own blankets and baskets for the picnic, leaving the remaining six adults to eat their lunch in peace.
Their group settled in a loosely formed circle under the shade of fruit bushes and juniper trees.
Ignoring the urge to cough, because he didn’t want them to worry, Mahu took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. He looked fondly at each face. His friends Sebek and Meri, that he’d known since his youth. Herit, who he’d met when his daughter Kasmut had fallen in love with her son Beni. Niya, who was new to him and very important as his beloved’s older sister.
And Dakarai himself. A companion so wonderful he could never have wished for better. An exuberant, sweet person, eager for all the joys life had to offer, and somehow set on experiencing them with Mahu. Gratitude swelled in his chest, warmer than even the day’s heat, and comforting in a way that helped him forget the need to cough.
The women spread a true feast in the middle of their circle. Vegetables and fruits with hummus for dipping. Dried figs dusted with cinnamon. Grape leaves filled with spiced meat and rice. Candied nuts with ginger. Mahu filled his plate with a little of everything, though his appetite lagged as of late.
Sebek cleared his throat. “So tell us, Niyarai. What’s it like in Rhakotis? We hear there’s a port big enough for ocean ships to come and go. Is it true?”
“It’s true,” said Niya around a bite of sweet pepper and hummus. “As a result we have all sorts of trade in the city. It’s easy to find things from Greece or Rome. They have the most delicious pickled olives. I will have to bring some on my next visit.”
“Please do,” said Meri. “I’d never thought to pickle them. I must try it.”
“They pickle everything, even eggs,” Niya scrunched her nose in distaste, “which are far better unpickled if you ask me.”
Beside Mahu, Daka laughed. Mahu felt the rumble where they were pressed together. Sebek smiled at him knowingly.
The afternoon passed in delightful company, good food, and enjoyable conversation, though the weather was sweltering. Sweat trickled down Mahu’s back. In the distance, the girls squealed and cackled, playing some sort of chase game. They’d nagged Niya into joining, which they must certainly regret by now. She clearly wasn’t the sort to let kids win.
Mahu’s throat itched. He couldn’t suppress the urge to cough any longer, so he got up and excused himself. “I’ll just be a moment.”
Concern crossed Daka’s lovely features. “Are you all right?”
Nodding, Mahu left before the coughing fit could indicate otherwise.
Rounding the corner away from the group and farther into the garden, Mahu held his linen napkin to his mouth and coughed into it. He tried to stay quiet until he’d gained some distance, but once a fit started it was impossible to control.
He hunched over, one hand on his thigh, the other still covering his lips as he hacked with wretched force. Whatever was wrong in his chest…it was getting worse. Mahu didn’t want to think about what that could mean.
As much as he could manage, Mahu relaxed the muscles in his throat and chest. He let the coughing come and go, then fought to regain his breath. When it was over, he pulled the linen napkin away to crumple it up and saw red.
Bright ruby droplets smeared into the fabric.
Blood.
* * *
Daka
“He isn’t well,” said Niya, her voice pitched low.
