"Walk." Amenhote directed his command at the boy who was now at the front on our scraggly line.

Forced to walk in tandem, Amira Bahie and I soon shared the secrets of our inner strength.

"How could you hurl a curse at man who brought you here?" I asked. "He could have easily overpowered and punished you."

"He was doing what he had to do to save his people from famine," she said. "I am betrothed to his son. I will never make it to the court of the evil King Herod. I will be rescued en route. I simply hurled the insult because that is what I would be expected to do. I am the daughter of Prince Amir Asad."

"But your hatred sounded so real."

"Oh, it is real. He may be my future father-in-law, and I may understand with my head why he has sold me, but with my heart, I still hate him for his deceit. He did not ask me if I was willing to participate. He sent men to bring me to his camp for a visit. Instead, he bound me and brought me to that fat trader. For that he has earned my contempt."

"What about you?" she asked. "You don't seem scared of that slimy Amenhote."

I chuckled softly. "No, I do not fear him. My mother is a seer. She put a curse on him and told him he would die an immediate and painful death if he mistreated me. All I have to do is grab my chest and act like I'm losing my breath to remind him of that fate."

"If your mother is a seer and has the power to place a curse that causes such a man to tremble in fear, why are you bound and in a slave caravan?"

"When I was still unborn, the god Thoth told mother in a vision that I would one day aid an infant king. Recently she had a second vision that instructed her to sell me into slavery in the court of King Herod. Evidently that is where I am to fulfill the purpose for which I was born."

"Your mother sold you into slavery because of some vision? It must have been very powerful. If given the chance, my mother would probably disembowel Amir Khalid for disgracing me in such a manner."

"She believes that I will somehow escape from King Herod and bring the infant king to Egypt. She has instilled the same belief in me from my birth. While neither of us would have chosen slavery, the gods have spoken. I am here to fulfill my destiny. That is why I can hold my head up in these circumstances."

"If you mother expects you to escape, then I will take you with me when I am rescued."

I shook my head. "No. I must find and rescue the baby king. Besides, your rescuers are intent on finding you. If you try to add another to their attempted rescue, it might be enough to thwart their efforts."

"I don't understand how you can go so calmly into slavery. But you might be right about escape. They will probably swoop in on horses prepared to cut my rope and carry me away. If I try to make them return for you, it could lead to disaster."

"Until your rescue, we can keep one another company," I said. "If you do not mind the friendship of a girl whose face has nothing to recommend it and who is destined to serve as an obscure slave."

"I am honored to have the friendship of a courageous girl whose destiny was foretold by the gods. I am Bahie. By what name should I address you."

"The Bedouin you call Khalid called you Amira Bahie."

"He was using my formal title, as the daughter of an Amir, I am the Amira Bahie." She held up our bound hands. "In this circumstance, we have no need for titles."

"No, I suppose not. I am Subira, the daughter of Akins."

As we walked, Amenhote cast an evil look towards us. I saw it once when I looked back to see his obese form waddling behind. He obviously both hated and feared us. To be safe, Bahie and I talked in hushed tones. We were careful to look straight ahead so that our conversation was not obvious to him. His labored wheezing as he walked reassured us that he was unable to hear our whispers.

"Are you making note of our route so that you can bring the child back some day?"

"I am trying. I have taken note of the stars. Perhaps their position can serve as a guide."

"This wadi we are walking in fills with water when the rains come, but most of the year it is dry and serves as a road."

"How far does it go?"

"We are nomads and travel long distances, but I have not followed this particular route before."

"So you cannot tell me of any landmarks."

"No, but I can help you learn how to survive in the desert."

"Halt." The word rang out from behind us. The command was surprisingly loud. I was astonished that Amenhote had enough air to make his cry heard.

The line halted. The boy at the front ran back to his master. After a whispered conversation, the boy told us that we would rest here. We all sank gratefully to the ground. Amenhote leaned his rolls of fat against the wall of the Wadi while the boy climbed to the top.

Bahie reached out and plucked a plant covered with small pink flowers. Showing it to me, she instructed, "See these joints?" I nodded. "This plant is called the jointed glasswort. It stores water near the joints. In the winter when there is no rain, no flowers adorn the plant. It can shed segments if a drought comes, allowing the main plant to survive. If you are caught in the desert without water, you can chew the segments for moisture. It will keep your tongue from drying out and prolong your life But don't swallow the stem. It doesn't taste good and might give you a stomach ache. Just spit it out after you extract the moisture."

I looked carefully at the plant, noting its jointed appearance and coloring that would allow it to blend into the Wadi if not for the bright pink flowers. If I returned in the winter, I would have to look carefully to spot the plants.

A twirling breeze sprang up, bringing with it a putrid stench akin to the rotting carcasses we had passed in the city. I wrinkled my nose and looked up, searching for circling buzzards that often mark the location of dead animals.

As the breeze died, I commented. "I guess even the buzzards sleep. I would think they would be feasting on whatever puts out that awful smell."

Bahie smiled, her eyes full of the laughter she dared not express aloud. Nodding towards a nearby clump of plants, she said, "That smell is the aroma of the carrion plant. Instead of the sweet scent of most blossoms, it reeks like rotting flesh. The smell protects the plant from animals that might destroy it for food. Look closely at one when you get the chance. The stems look like fingers. In the winter, when there are no flowers, the smell is mostly dormant. You can chew it like you do glasswort."

I shuddered. "That sounds awful, like eating the fingers of a dead man."

"If you get thirsty enough, you would probably welcome a succulent finger."

"I hope I don't have to test your theory."

Our conversation was interrupted by the return of the boy. He came down the Wadi, followed by a group of armed men. Two rode camels, while another four walked. One led a camel loaded with supplies, and another lead an unoccupied camel.

Amenhote lumbered to his feet. The man in front issued a command and his camel knelt, allowing him to dismount. He welcomed our corpulent leader with a kiss. The extra camel was brought forward for Amenhote's approval. Soon he was seated atop the camel. The youth commanded us to stand. Our forced march through the night continued, only now we were surrounded by six armed guards, not just a fat trader and an agile youth..

We kept to the unmarked hinterlands, traveling when others slept. Our armed escorts provided us with water and food for sustenance, since we avoided the oases where Bahie's kin might expect us to stop. Obviously Amenhote expected the same thing as Bahie, an attempted rescue.

Bahie continued to teach me about desert survival. She pointed out clumps of purple knotweed, telling me that they grew only where rainwater pooled underground in a natural cistern.

"If you dig where they grow in abundance, you will find moisture. Sometimes it's only enough to muddy the soil, but sometimes there is an underground pool with enough water to slake your thirst."

Her knowledge of the desert and its flora and fauna was something my mother had been unable to provide.

"Even here, the gods are in control," I told her as we traveled under a bright moon on the fifth such night since we had begun our journey. "If not for you, I would be ignorant of how to survive in the desert."

She looked at me with sad eyes. "Ask your gods for blessings on my rescuers. They should have come several moons ago. I am afraid. If your gods had the power to bring me to you, ask them to bring my kinsman to me. I have done what I could to help you. Surely they will not doom me to live as one of the many wives in the court of an evil king. I was born to be a princess who roams the desert, free like the wind."

"I will pray to Thoth."

I did not tell her that I had never heard from the god and that all my attempts to meditate had produced no results. As we walked, I begged Thoth to hear my entreaty on behalf of Bahie. I asked him to protect her kin and bring them to her rescue. Only silence answered my desperate pleas.