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"Nahbia, this is the third afternoon you've slept into! Your father will be expecting you to bring him his meal shortly!"
"Sorry," I murmured, pulling my blankets higher. "Stupid mid-terms." I cracked my eyes open and struggled to sit up, pushing my black hair from my eyes. "It's . . . the other thing, Mama. I'll try harder to wake earlier."
Mama nodded, satisfied, and set about with her own chores. She knew better then to ask about my other life, where I went when I appeared to my sleeping. She believed - as did the rest of my family - that I was blessed by the gods and traveled into a dream world during the night. I did not know what I believed, but the gods were as good a guess as any. My mother from my second life would only laugh if I told her I traveled between existences, across oceans, through time. And then she'd take my temperature and give me a Motron.
In that life my name was Lissa Chamois, a freshman in high school. In that life, I lived in Ithaca, New York, where my parents were college professors. I had been adopted from a poor orphanage in Egypt when I was three weeks old, with no record of my parents or name. I had grown up in Ithaca, middle class, and Jewish. I was the only Egyptian looking person I knew, but in my heart and mind I was as American as my friends born there. And in that life, i lived in the beginning of the twenty-first century.
In the life I had woke up in this morning, my name was Nahbia of Thebes, daughter of Sekhet and Kaphiri. I had been born and raised along the Nile, where my black hair and brown eyes were the standard. Anyone differently colored was a foreigner, and regarded suspiciously. In this life, I was polytheistic, and worshipped gods for every aspect of life. My father worked for the Pharaoh as a builder on the off-harvest season; other than that he was a farmer. I had three brothers - Miknon was nineteen, married, and with three children; Lateef was two years older then me at sixteen, and little Tabari was only ten. My father had two children from his first marriage. Meskhenet was my older half sister at twenty-two with two children, and my half brother Danric was twenty-six and had five children, the eldest older then Tabari. There was one other life concerning this life by the Nile; it took place in thee year 1353 . . . B.C. The sixth year in the reign of Pharaoh Tutankhamen.
Since I was born, I had spent one day in one life, going to sleep, and waking up in the other. I would live that day, go to sleep, and wake up in the first life as soon as I lost conscience. I always felt as if I had a full nights sleep - or so I would assume, seeing how I've never truly slept a whole night. But I always woke feeling refreshed. My body in each life was the same, so scars and sprained parts were always present. Still, there was always a body of mine sleeping when I wasn't present. I have yet to understand how that works. Stress from one life also followed, which explained why I would still want to sleep late in ancient Egypt following midterms in twenty-first century America.
I tried very hard to keep my two lives separate. No one except my Egyptian family knew what I could do. After all, there was no way they could tell, and except for my knowledge of several odd facts it did not effect me that much. I found it easy to ignore one life and mostly immerge myself in the other - but then, that was all I had ever known.
I pushed myself out of bed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Quickly packing Papa's lunch I set off for the temple he was presently working on for Pharaoh. Once a week I would bring his food to him, for on the other days that fell to my siblings. I enjoyed bringing it to him, and seeing what he worked on.
I walked slowly through the streets of Thebes, nodding at the merchants I recognized and a few of the people. The streets were crowded and all sorts of smells and sounds - pleasant and otherwise - reached me as I headed towards the desert. It took me half an hour to reach the place, a little removed from the city, where Papa was working. King Tut had commissioned a new temple to be built honoring Amen-Re.
I tried not to think of him as King Tut. After all, I was sure I was the only one. Pharaoh Tutankhamen was the appropriate title, but it was so hard to think of him like that. I always felt a little disturbed thinking of him, whatever life I was in. Here, he had three more years to live and I was the only one that knew it. In twenty-first century America, he was looked upon as an archeological find, and was the one pharaoh that everyone knew the name of, the one pharaoh whose name was immortal to everyone.
Stop thinking like that, I scolded myself. Mixing lives was the worse thing I could do, so I straightened my head, held my bundle close to me, and started praying to Isis. Religion was the one thing in either world that could free me from thoughts of my other life; they were so utterly different that there was no way I could mix them up.
"Nahbia!" my father called joyfully as I approached him. He came away from the rock he was chiseling in the shape of Amen-Re. "At last! And here I was, thinking I would die of thirst and hunger as my fellow artisans lounged around contently."
I laughed. "No chance of that, Papa. Here, you may be lazy now." I handed him the food and waterskin. "I'll join you in a moment," I told him, tearing off a hunk of bread.
"Put in a good word for me with Amen-Re," Papa chuckled, as I walked away. That was my excuse; that I would go put my offering of food before the great statue of Amen-Re. I could have just as easily put it before one of his smaller finished statues, but this gave me a chance to walk around and inspect the great temple, carved from the rock. They had completed another row of columns from when I came by last week, and they had moved several of the completed statues. The great one of Amen-Re was still in the same place, and I lay a piece of my bread in front of him.
"God Amen-Re, King of Gods, accept my offering of this food and grant me a long life. I ask that you forgive my faults; and I trust my life in your hands." I stood up and took a step back, bumping into someone.
"My apologies," the person said as I turned around to see who it was. A boy about my age, wearing the clothes of a worker.
"No, I'm sorry," I told him. "I should have looked where I was going."
"Yes," he said, and I looked at him in surprise, "But you were standing right in front of me and I should have moved out of the way. I supposed it was equally our faults."
I nodded, and started to move away, when I noticed his hands were empty. "Aren't you going to eat anything?" I asked him curiously.
I thought his cheeks darkened slightly, though that might have been the shadow of the statue. "I forgot to bring any."
"Forgot?" I said in surprise? "How could you forget to bring food? Or did you forget to ask someone to bring it to you?"
He raised an eyebrow in surprise, a skill I was yet to master. "You're inquisitive."
Stupid twenty-first century upbringing I cursed, and lowered my eyes to his feet. "I am sorry. I did not mean to be rude."
"No, it's all right. I hadn't actually expected to come here, so I didn't bring any food." This time I was sure he darkened. "I . . . I don't suppose you have extra food?"
"I brought some for my father - he's an artisan here. I'm sure he won't mind sharing."
"Oh no," the boy said hurriedly, "I don't want to bother him."
"He won't mind."
"Really, I wouldn't want to impose on his meal. Or work. Or anything at all."
"Well, unless you wish to take Amen-Re's meal . . ." I said skeptically. "Which, aside for being for the god, also happened to be sitting on the dirty ground and might not be the most pleasant thing to eat."
"I don't mind dirty bread," he said, sounding extremely unconvincing and looking at the bread as if it was something to strongly distrust. "And I'm sure Amen-Re wouldn't mind if *I* ate the bread."
"Oh, because you're so much better then the rest of us mortals?" I crossed my arms, wondering why he had put an emphasis on "I."
"But of course," he said, smirking. "Didn't you know that?"
"Well, someone better wouldn't stoop to eating dirty bread and stealing from a god."
"But I could command you to give me your piece of bread and you would have to steal from the and eat dirty food."
"I have no proof that you outrank me -"
"Isn't my word enough?" he said loftily.
"No."
He looked surprised, then laughed. I liked his laugh. I liked his attitude too; he knew how to laugh, and was polite. The exact opposite of Tarik, who was courting me.
"So, since I don't know your rank, or name, you can't order me to do anything."
"True enough." For a moment neither of us said anything. Instead we just gazed into each other's eyes, neither of us blinking. I broke my gaze from his, redirecting it at his ear. "That was a not so subtle hint to tell me who you are," I informed him coolly.
"Ah. Wouldn't you like to give me your name first?"
"I asked first," I said, aware that I sounded like a petty five-year- old.
"But I am a man. And everyone knows men are more important then females." He tilted his head. "Isn't that so?"
"Hardly! Pharaoh Hatshepsut, Osiris keep her soul, was one of the most respected pharaohs ever! And I would hardly call you a man," I scoffed, running an eye over him, his fourteen year old body not fully developed.
He looked at me as if he had never heard anything like my words, and burst into laughter again, doing something odd to my stomach. Obviously, I was hungry. I took a bite of bread.
"What! Don't I even get a little piece?" the boy said, widening his eyes.
"Can you pay?" I asked him jokingly.
He stepped closer, and took a strand of my hair and twirled it between his fingers. "It depends what currency you'll accept," he said with a little smirk. Blushing, I stepped back, tugging my hair from his grasp. He laughed at my antics and grinned at me, inviting me to share the joke. I laughed also.
"All right, I'll give you a piece, but only if you get down on your knees and beg," I teased, glad my tan skin hid the color of my cheeks. To my surprise, the boy dropped to one knee, and raised folded hands above his head.
"Great lady," he began, "I beg of you, spare the smalles -"
"Your Majesty!" a voice called out from somewhere around the corner of the temple. "Are you near?"
The boy tensed every muscle in his body freezing. Ever so slowly, he lowered his hands and rose. He offered me an apologetic smile. "My master," he said.
"Isn't he everyone's?" I said lightly.
He gave a forced laugh. "I suppose. I'd better go attend him - I expect we'll be leaving now." He started to quickly walk away, then turned back. "Will you be here tomorrow?" he asked hopefully, though quietly.
I shook my head. "But next week I might be."
He smiled at me, then glanced over his shoulder. "Good. I will see you then." He started to move towards the corner of the temple, but I wasn't about to let him get away that easily.
"Wait," I called out, and he turned to face me again. I hesitated; I was going to sound awful stupid if I was wrong. But this always happened in the books I read . . ."You're - you're Pharaoh Tutankhamen, aren't you?" I said softly, barely loudly enough for him to hear.
Like before, he stiffened, and his cheeks darkened. "That's ridic -" he began to say, but at that moment a figure came around the corner.
"Your Majesty," the man said bowing and then putting a hand on the boy's - the pharaoh's shoulder. "We were looking for you." He ran a quick appraisal of his king's clothes, and his eyebrows lifted. "Are you ready to depart, Your Majesty?" the man asked, and with a quick nod, they moved to do so.
The boy threw one last glance behind him, and our eyes connected. I gave a wry little smile and lifted my hand in a sad excuse for a wave. The Horus Strong Bull, Fitting from Created Forms, He of the Two Ladies, Dynamic of Laws, Who Calms the Two Lands, Who Propitiates all the Gods, the Golden Horus Who Displays the regalia, Who Propitiates the Gods, King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Lord of Manifestations is Re, Son of Re, Living Image of Amen, Ruler of Upper Egyptian Iunu, nodded at me and disappeared around the corner.