Layla always woke up at six o’clock every morning regardless of the amount of sleep that she’s had the night before. Today, she was right on time and her eyes opened just as the first rays of sunlight shone in the vast canyon. Her cave faced east and was usually the first part of the canyon that felt the warmth of the sun as it flooded the entrance to her cave. She loved watching sunrise with a cup of warm milk and honey and some bread. She started a small, smoke-free fire with some dry wood and two pieces of flint. When it caught, Layla stood back allowing it to gather heat. When she was sure it wouldn’t go out she went around the bend in the cave to a hollowed out ledge to the right of the entrance tunnel. Though, she knew no one was watching, Layla had always been uncomfortable with changing with the whole canyon in view. Now, with the boy in there, she was even less willing to change in that area. Getting ready for her regular daily life, she put on a light blue tunic, which hung down to her ankles. It had no sleeve and was held together at the shoulders with two large, golden brooches. She slipped two golden bands up around her biceps as was the tradition. Girls should wear long tunics and bands around her arms. Boys wore short tunics that ended just above their knees and bands around their wrists like cuff guards. Layla braided her hair with gold colored strands of fabric so that her black hair would flash yellow and orange in the rising sun. She walked to the fire and hung a pot with milk over it and took a roll of bread and started to heat it. She made up her bed, which that day had just been a lumpy pile of sheets since the boy occupied hers. He was breathing easily, curled up on his left side and was facing the wall of the cave. The little boy looked so defenseless.
“I’m going to take care of him,” Layla said, just so she could hear the words out loud, liking the way they sounded.
She finished her milk and bread and began to go over her list of things that she would need for the boy -- clothes, more food, and another bed. Though the money she had taken from Khalid would easily cover it Layla wouldn't have needed it. Assassins were paid a great deal. She would need the extra money to pay for his schooling though. She was sure that he would resist but, she would convince him. She didn’t want him to have to do what she did when he grew up. Also education always made people respect you more. In Kemet, a poor but well-educated person could get more respect than a richer person. That was why Layla went to school. For a girl, it was especially hard to get any real respect so she did everything she could to earn it.
Layla stood up and walked over to the sleeping prince. Softly, she caressed his hair and then shook his shoulder. His hand shot out quickly almost hitting her in the face. Only her quick reflexes allowed her to catch his wrist. She held it gently, surprised at how thin it was. Again, she shook his shoulder and his eyes started to open. When he saw the cave wall in front of him, he sat up quickly, and looked around, his eyes wide. He saw the cave opening out to the canyon, and the pile of sheets at the wall across from him. Then he saw her. He scrambled back against the wall, twisting his wrist out of her grip.
“You’re the assassin,” his dark eyes filled with fear.
For some reason, Layla felt hurt. She was used to people who knew who she was being afraid of her, but the boy had been different. He hadn’t been scared and that had been one of the main reasons that she’s liked him.
“Yes, I am,” she said cautiously.
His eyes grew even wider and Layla knew that he had been holding onto the hope that she wasn’t. He started to shake his head.
“No… I… I didn't… I wasn't sure… I just wanted to get away.”
"What do you mean?”
"I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to get away. It didn't matter if I died but I don't want to die. I was wrong I don't want to die."
"I'm not going to kill you."
Layla spoke to the boy like someone might speak to a frightened animal and she didn’t move.
“You’re an assassin. You’re going to kill me.”
The boy was starting to cry, which really annoyed Layla.
“No, I killed the man who ordered me to kill you last night. Do you remember that errand I had to run?”
The little boy nodded, tears overflowing from his eyes.
“I won’t hurt you. I helped you get away from the palace, right?”
The little boy’s hand went to the bruise that he had showed her the night before. He nodded.
“That’s what you wanted, right?”
He nodded again.
“Did I hurt you at all?”
He looked at her with wide eyes and shook his head. Layla stood up slowly and walked back to the fire. She put more milk on and warmed up another roll. She added honey to the milk and put the bread on a plate.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
The boy hadn’t moved an inch but tears were now steadily streaming from his eyes.
“It’s poisoned,” he sniffled.
Layla ripped a piece of the bread off the roll and, ate it and had a sip of the milk and honey. She put it back down on the ground. The boy didn’t eat it.
“I have to go. I’ll be back around four. There is food over there and if you want to leave, the tunnel over there’ll get you out. There are some bushes at the top. Just push through them. Go west to get to town.”
Still, the boy didn’t move.
“Okay then, bye.”
She started to leave.
“Are you going to kill someone?” he asked.
“Nah, kid. I’m going to school.”
The boy looked up in surprise and Layla smiled. She slipped on a pair of leather sandals and started up the tunnel. She’s gotten pretty good at getting up and out without messing up her dress or her hair. At the top of the tunnel, there was a cluster of rocks that had a hole under them. Layla kept her money there and she grabbed a bag of gold coins to pay for lunch and the shopping. It was Wednesday so she had to buy food as well as supplies for the Prince. Meat and fresh fruits didn’t keep long in the heat so Monday, Wednesday and Friday, Layla bought some more. As she headed towards the village, sand tickled her feet through her sandals. Layla loved the desert more than the water of Hellas. She supposed it was in her blood because the endless blue sky over the golden desert was way more beautiful to her than the ocean could ever be to her. The people who visited from Hellas would often leave with red, sensitive skin but the sun never bothered Layla or any of the other Kemetians. They all had similar features that protected them from it -- dark skin, dark eyes, and a tendency to tilt their heads a little forwards so that their face was rarely hit directly by the sun. The walk to the village took only about 5 minutes and it could be seen as soon as she stepped out of her cave. From there, it looked like a small group of really square rocks but she knew that in the middle of the adobe houses was an open air market place that even early in the morning would be filled with people. The houses weren’t very big because very few people actually spent their day inside. Houses generally had two bedrooms, one for the adults and one for the children, and a kitchen. The kitchen was only used by the women to cook dinner. Breakfast was usually a cold meal and people ate lunch quickly, usually in the market place. Women usually spent the whole afternoon in a sweltering hot room to cook. Men, on the other hand, would go to work, whatever that happened to be. Some men had stands in the market that sold goods, others had farms out of town, and others worked at the palace as guardsmen, servants, or advisors to the court. Others would go to work at Khalid’s oasis. Someone would find him and his seven guards soon enough. A huge battle would be waged concerning who now got ownership of the land because if Layla knew anything about Khalid it was that he did not plan to give the farm away to anyone. He would not have an heir and so the land would be given to whoever was deemed most worthy by the mayor of the town. No one knew who it would be. Layla banished these thoughts from her mind as she reached the outskirts of town. People started calling out to her.
“Hello, Layla.”
“How are you?”
“Do you want to buy some toad’s legs?”
Layla smiled and nodded back at everyone. She knew exactly who they all were and they all knew her.
“Hello, Layla. How is your mother doing?” an older man with twinkling eyes called out to her.
“Great Mr. Beb, my mom’s fever broke. The doctor said she should be good as new by the end of the week.”
“Good, good. She still won’t be coming to town though. I have yet to meet her.”
“No, no. Mr. Beb she is still too weak.”
“Well, tell her I said hello anyway.”
“Yes, sir,” Layla said and the continued on her way.
That was her cover story. Dead father and a sick mother that could not come into town so she was forced to do all the work on her own. According to her story, her mother’s family had been quite rich and after the war, she’d been the only living child so she had inherited all of her parents’ and grandparents’ money. This story was not unlikely as many people had come into a lot of money from deceased relatives after the war. Her father had also been a hard working fellow before the war and had died fighting bravely on the front lines. All of his money had been left to his frail wife. According to the story, Layla had enough money that she would not have to do much work for the rest of her life. As she walked through the streets, Layla greeted the women working in the houses and watched the young children dart in and out of the crowds, looking for something fun to do before the sun made the sand burn their feet. Her thoughts slid back to the boy in the cave, wondering if he had eaten or not. She still needed to buy some clothes for him and think of some sort of cover story as to why she was buying young boy’s clothes. She would also need more food than she usually had. She worried about it until she reached the school. The school was just an open patio with places of shade for the teachers and none for the students. Each teacher would teach a small group of students at a time. The school was an all-girls school. Since their parents had to pay for a girl’s education, the girls were usually pretty rich and they really wanted to be in school. It was their choice and it was a very special gift that they savored. The only reason they were sent to school, though, was so that no one would be able to cheat them and so that they would not be helpless without their husbands. In Hellas, women had a very central role in society and so it was different in Kemet. Layla was thought that in Kemet life was insanely unfair but she held her tongue. There was nothing she could do the change society. As she neared the school, two girls ran up to her. They were her two friends and two of the few people in the world that she would risk her life for. Dalila was tall, thin, and poised. She belonged to one of the main families in Kemet. She would make a great wife to whoever wanted her but she wasn’t beautiful. Not ugly, either, but not pretty. Or maybe Layla was just comparing her to Jamila. She was one of the few people in Kemet with really curly hair, where most had straight black hair. Some had slightly wavy hair but none had her thick, round curls. She was small, only about 4’ 9’’ and she had some chubbiness around her face and hips but that would be good for childbirth. Her face was beautiful , with large eyes, a small nose and full, red lips. Boys would let their eyes and thoughts follow her but none would actually pursue her because of her schooling. She was smarter and more knowledgeable than most of them and men hate being showed up by a girl. That was the main reason that none of the three girls had many suitors.
“Hey, how’s your Mom?” Dalila asked, worriedly.
She knew that the one thing Layla cared about more than anything was her mother because that was how she played it.
"Oh, she's better. Her fever broke and the doctor said that she should be fine in a week or two."
"Oh, that's good. It would be terrible if she got worse, right?" Jamila asked.
Layla nodded and hugged the two of them and they walked to their school, arriving just on time.
"Class time!" the head teacher said and everyone sat in their respective groups. After that it was just studying. They learned reading, writing, arithmetic, a little geometry, some astronomy, and rhetoric. Layla worked hard on everything. A teacher would come teach them a little of something and then move on to another group of kids while the students did some exercises. Sometimes it was hard for the teachers to keep up because the girls absorbed knowledge like sponges and filled out their exercises quickly but as lunch grew nearer everything slowed down. The sun really started to shine in the sky and the heat pointed on the back of the girls' necks. The heat started make even the most alert people, like Layla, drowsy. This time of day was true murder, Layla thought. In town, everyone would go back to the house and get something to each while lounging in the shade of nearby palm or the cover of a tent. Business in the market became slow as people disappeared into the little shade that the town offered. Merchants stayed at their stalls protected by the cloth roofs but not many people came around so they would kick back and start to eat the food that their wives had prepared for them. At 12:00 the school was let out for an hour so that the students could go and eat something. it was the only activity in the market from 11:00 to 1:00, the hottest hours of the day. They would buy fruits, chips, dried meat, and some milk or water. As soon, as their teacher called for lunch, Layla, Dalila, and Jamila put down their writing tablets and walked to the market. The three of them automatically walked to Mr. Beb's stall. He was their favorite because they were really close and he had a good variety and he was the only shopkeeper who would let them sit under his stall with him to escape the sun.
"Layla, Dalila, and Jamila! What a surprise to see the three of you here," he said, his eyes twinkling. They came to the stall practically every day.
"Yes, you see we got tired of the food we normally eat so we decided to go somewhere else, you know, for variety," Layla replied, cheekily.
Everyone laughed.
"Well, come on in and have your food."
The girls picked out some sun-dried tomatoes, sweet fruits, and some smoked beef. They didn't always eat the same thing but usually it was something very similar. For the next half an hour, Layla and the two other girls laughed and ate right along with Mr. Beb who had saved his lunch until the girls joined him. The girls stuffed themselves and then began their favorite activity of the day: relaxing. There were still some students in the market place. Most of them had left to their homes and shade but the ones who stayed were milling around, laughing.
"Hey, guys, guess what," one of the older boys said -- he was about Layla's age -- "I heard that Old Oba's son was killed last night. There was blood all over the bed but no son."
The other two guys' eyes widened.
"The Mask of Death," one whispered under his breath.
Assassins were famous in Kemet, almost more so than the king, and people knew how to recognize each of them because they each had their own weapons and special way of killing.
"Nah, they said that it was the Angel again. Had all the signs: men killed by darts, no witnesses, and six or seven unconscious guards."
"Six," Layla thought, "and three dead."
"How many died?" one of the guy's friends asked.
"Other than the king's son? Three guards, I think. You know how the Angel works. He only kills as many as he has to."
Layla was a little miffed to hear herself being referred to as a guy but that was also the most powerful part of her disguise. No one would expect a woman to be an assassin, much less a 15-year-old girl.
"Hey, boy," Mr. Beb said and the three boys walked over.
"Is that true? What you said? Ahmose's son is dead?"
"Yes sir. That is what I heard and there have been guards running everywhere. They also executed a bunch of the unconscious guards and a few others who were supposed to guard the boy."
Mr. Beb leaned back in his chair, his chin at his chest and his eye brows furrowed.
"I heard that Mr. Khalid Adjo was found dead at his house this morning by one of his workers. Seven guards dead and him with a slit throat."
The three boys stared at each other.
"Really sir?"
"Yes. The seven guards were on the roof with bows and arrows. I think they might have tried to ambush someone but that someone was able to kill them all and get away."
Everyone looked at each other in fear. Whoever was able to kill seven guards as he was being ambushed must have been incredibly strong, fast, and terrifying.
"Who did it?"
"Before I wasn't sure but I had a suspicion that it might have been the Angel. The men were killed by arrows that were no longer there. The torch was stuffed in the sand so whoever did it probably did it in pitch darkness. Do you know anyone else who can do that?"
The boys were excited now, but Jamila piped up.
"There's no proof that the arrows were shot in the dark. There could have been another torch or the torch could have been put out after shooting."
"Well, I guess," the first boy said, reluctant to take the glory away from the Angel, "but whoever did it still had tremendous skill at fighting."
He was quite good-looking actually. He was one of those rare people who didn't have black hair. Instead, his hair was brown and fell in a wavy pile on his head. He had a nice smile and bright eyes. Layla partially to help him out and partially to boost up her other image said,
"We know he did it in the dark because I guess no other torches were found since that was a special part of the report. Also, if he'd already killed all the men then why would he have to put the torch out?"
Everyone looked at Layla.
"It makes sense," the second boy said. He was tall and brutish, with large muscles and a slightly dull expression but he had kind eyes.
"Exactly, that's how we know he shot in the dark," the brown-haired boy said, and he looked at Layla almost hungrily.
Layla knew that look, having seen it often enough directed at Jamila.
"Well, it seems that the Angel is on a roll. These are more deaths than normal." Mr Beb said.
"Actually, that's not true," Layla said without thinking since she knew better than anyone the amount of deaths that occurred. Everyone looked at her and to cover it up, she explained.
"Remember three months ago there were six deaths every night for a week," Layla said.
She remembered that week well. Someone in the palace had asked her to kill 42 soldiers who had information regarding a policy that he did not want passed. These soldiers had gone each to the other six main cities in Kemet and she had been expected to kill them all before rumors of each other reached them. That had been an especially bad run because the murders had been all across the country and she's had to run miles and miles and miles to get to each of her locations. Then, she had had to get back to school before the rumors reached them otherwise people might have begun to tie her missing days to the murder days. If she sometimes had to take a day off for a job, she would claim that her mother was ill again. Still, disappearing for a week in which so many murders took place was pushing the envelope a little.
Slowly the market started to fill up with students again since it was time to go back to classes.
"We have to go Mr. Beb. See you later," Dalila said and all three girls kiss whim on the cheek and they were about to walk off back to class but the brown haired boy called out,
"Wait, what are your names?"
"Layla."
"Dalila."
"Jamila."
"It's nice to meet you. My name is Darius."
"I'm Omari," the brutish boy said.
"And, I'm Kosey."
Layla grinned at them.
"It's really nice to meet you."
"Totally, I'll see you tomorrow?"
Layla smiled her warmest smile.
"We'll be here."
"Okay, bye," Darius said and he walked off with his companions.
The girls kept their composure until the guys were out of sight and then started to giggle. All the way back to school, they giggled. The teachers snapped at them and had to threatened with a week of detention before they finally quit speaking. After classes the girls had to go their separate ways. Dalila went home to help with her six younger brothers and Jamila walked off to help her mother make dinner. The three girls kissed each other goodbye and Layla went to market. There she conversed with the shop owners while buying lots of dried meat, fruits and vegetables. She also bought some clothes for the boy.
"Who's this for?" the shopkeeper asked because he knew full well there there was no one in her home who would wear it.
"My cousin is living with us now. His parents died recently and we're the only family he has left."
"I hope he won't cause too much trouble to your mother."
"I hope so too, though he seems like a nice kid."
The shopkeeper nodded and handed her the clothes.
"Goodbye Layla."
"Goodbye, Mr. Tikal."
It was around four when Layla got back to the cave lugging six bags of food clothes and sheets. She crawled in through the hole and put down her bags. The boy was still sitting on the bed, curled up against the wall but he had eaten the bread and the milk. A banana peel and an apple core were on the floor in front of him.
"Hey," she said and the boy jumped up, pushing his body against the wall as if he could just sink through it.
Layla simply started to unpack the things she had bought.
"I see you ate the food," she said.
He just nodded.
"Look at what I got you."
She held up a plain cotton shirt, some brown shorts and leather sandals.
"The clothes you are wearing look nice but they probably aren't that comfortable and they'll get you noticed if you go into town. Take these."
The boy didn't move so she just put them on the bed next to him and turned around to organize the fruits and the counter where she kept them. She had originally used the random outcropping as a bed but then hadn't had room for her food so she had decided to sleep on the floor instead of putting her food there. Layla turned and caught a glimpse of the boy fiddling with the buttons on his shirt before he snatched his had away. She walked over to him and knelt down in front of him, as much as she could in her dress, and tried to look him in the eye. It was hard to do, since he was trying to look everywhere but right at her. Finally, she was able to grab his attention. Speaking slowly and calmly, she said,
"I promise that I am not going to hurt you."
The boy looked back at her. His eyes no longer held as much fear as they had that morning.
"Promise?"
Layla nodded and smiled.
"Promise."
The boy looked at her.
"I have to pee."
Layla laughed a little and then showed him where she used for a bathroom. It was just past the area where she bathed where the water rushed by fast enough to carry her wastes away without bothering her at all. She walked back to the main cave, allowing the boy to pee in privacy. After a few minute he joined her. It was immediately obvious to her that he still didn't trust her. He always stood a few feet away from her and never trusted the food she handed to him, preferring to go pick fresh fruits or vegetables off the shelf. His eyes didn't leave her while she was in the room and he wouldn't fall asleep until he thought that she was as well. Then, over the next few months, Layla watched happily as he began to warm up to her.
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