his study, elbows propped on his desk, one fist balled into the other. He glanced up at me, then refocused his attention on an array of scrolls, pens, and ink vials scattered around him, making me wait. I didn’t think his servant had seen my intrusions, but I couldn’t be sure. I replanted my feet.
Minutes passed. “Thaddeus tells me your work is satisfactory,” he said. Finally. “As such, I’ve decided to waive your rent requirement. You may stay for now as guests, not boarders.”
Guests. Prisoners. There was little difference.
“Thank you, Uncle.” I tried to smile at him. It helped immensely that he had a dab of ink on the side of his nose, which he’d placed there with his smudged finger.
He cleared his throat. “I leave tomorrow to inspect my papyrus crops and workshops. I travel to Terenouthis, Letopolis, and Memphis and expect to be away for four weeks.”
We’d been shut up in this house for nearly a year and a half, but here it was—sweet freedom. It was all I could do to keep from breaking into song and dance.
“I’ve bidden you here,” he said, “to advise you in person that my absence does not change our agreement. If you or my sister leave the house, you will forfeit your right to remain here and I will have no choice but to renew the charge of murder against you. I’ve instructed Apion to watch you. He will report your movements to me.”
Sweet, sweet, sweet freedom.
* * *
? ? ?
FINDING NO TRACE OF YALTHA in our rooms, I hurried to the servants’ quarters, where she sometimes retreated. I found her there with Pamphile and Lavi, hunched over a game of senet, moving her ebony pawn over the board, trying to be the first player to pass into the afterlife. The game had become a salve, a way to distract herself, but her disappointment about finding Chaya still hung over her like a small cloud I could almost see.
“Aghhh!” my aunt cried, landing on a square that symbolized bad fortune.
“I’m in no hurry for you to reach the afterlife,” I said, and the three of them looked around, surprised to see me.
My aunt grinned. “Not even this paltry afterlife on the game board?”
“Not even that one.” I slipped beside her and whispered, “I have welcome news.”
She flipped her pawn onto its side. “Since Ana has requested that I not visit the afterlife today, I must withdraw from the game.”
I led her to a private spot near the outdoor kitchen and told her what had just transpired.
The corners of her mouth twitched. “I’ve been thinking. There’s one person who would have known about Haran’s deception and that’s Apion’s father, Apollonios. He was Haran’s treasurer before Apion, but also his confidant, doing his bidding. It’s likely he was involved in the matter.”
“Then we’ll go and find him.”
“He will be old now,” she said. “If he’s alive at all.”
“Do you think he would help us?”
“He was always kind to me.”
“I’ll approach Apion when the time is right,” I told her and watched her tilt back her head and drink in the spaciousness of the sky.
xii.
Apion was in the small room he called the treasury, writing numbers onto a piece of lined parchment. He looked up at my approach. “If you’ve brought money for your rent, Haran has done away with the requirement.”
“Yes, he told me himself. I’m here to ask for the favor you owe me.” I tried to look modest, to be the kind of genial person one is eager to grant favors.
He sighed audibly and laid down his pen.
“I understand my uncle has placed Yaltha and me under your watchful eye while he’s away. I would like to respectfully request that you forgo this onerous task and leave us to ourselves.”
“If you plan to venture out of the house against Haran’s wishes and expect me to say nothing to him, you are mistaken. It puts me at risk of losing my position.”
“It seems taking undisclosed bribes also puts you at risk,”