Ancient Egypt:
How long was I in that cell?
Nahanit looked around as the wagon trundled through the city. Memphis was still familiar, but it was obvious that much had changed.
The forceful eviction from her cell would have been enough excitement for a long time.
But the guard who had dragged her out had then shoved her onto the back of a line of fellow prisoners. While most were similarly forlorn, none were as wizened as she was. The line had grown longer behind her as more prisoners had been roused from their cells; every so often, the guard who had entered the cell would recoil in disgust and close the door hurriedly.
Eventually, when enough prisoners had been added to the line, they then had been led through more corridors.
Nahanit had been willing herself to keep up, but as she had been languishing in the cell for however long, her body had quickly betrayed her.
The first time she fell, a large prisoner with a shaggy beard knelt to help her back up.
"Are you alright?" he asked, a concerned expression on his bedraggled face.
"No talking!" a guard barked, shouldering through the other prisoners.
He curled his lip when he saw the emaciated heap on the floor.
"Get up, crone," he spat, yanking her up roughly, ignoring her squawk of pain.
It was only a few minutes later that she fell a second time. The same guard growled in frustration, again treating her like a sack of grain.
The third time, he gave up.
"Carry her," he ordered the large prisoner, who had been shadowing her.
With little effort, the large prisoner took her in his arms. She felt like a child, weak and helpless, the pain mingling with humiliation. Even with his surprising gentleness, the impact of just his steps on the floor jarred her.
Finally, they had been led outside, where a large wagon awaited.
Once they had all piled into it, they set off.
She drank in all the details around her, even as her eyes, accustomed to darkness, were forced to squint against the sun. There seemed to be a tense atmosphere; guards were posted here and there, the people passing by looking at them out of the corners of their eyes, as if doing so directly would draw their ire.
Where being carried in the large prisoner's arms had been uncomfortable enough, riding in the wagon resulted in more pain, sharper aches springing up from the wheels rolling over the terrain. She managed to keep her groans of pain quiet, hoping to mitigate her humiliation.
The wagon stopped a few minutes later, in front of a nondescript building. They were herded out, made to form another line, Nahanit again scooped up by the large prisoner.
More guards appeared on either side of the line, and then the group walked inside the building, turning here and there, until they reached an equally nondescript door.
Another guard waited in front of it alongside a bored-looking man.
The guard who had led the group pointed at the first in line.
"You," he grunted, gesturing then to the door as the bored-looking man opened it, "inside."
With a nervous glance behind him at the rest of the line, the prisoner scurried through.
"Put me down," Nahanit murmured to the large prisoner.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He obeyed reluctantly, watching as she swayed uneasily, a hand moving out slowly to rest against the wall. Her legs wobbled, but she waved off his attempt to support her.
I'm too weak. I need to be able to at least stand on my own two legs.
Eventually, the first prisoner came back out, a relieved expression on his face. As he was herded away, the next one in line was ushered through the door.
Nahanit was the ninth in line, and as such, had to wait a while before it was her turn.
When it came time for her to move, her legs failed again, still too feeble to carry her weight. The large prisoner was quickly at her side, lifting her easily despite her hoarse protests. The bored-looking man waved him through the door.
Inside was a small room, with a table up at the front, a middle-aged man sitting behind it. A chair was in the middle of the room, with thick ropes attached to the arms, four guards arrayed against the wall behind it.
The large prisoner was directed to bring her to the chair. His movements were slow and careful, but even with that characteristic tenderness, her body ached. He was quickly ushered back outside. The guards stayed back against the wall, regarding her with a mix of curiosity and pity. None, unsurprisingly, made any move to secure her to the chair.
She peered up at the man behind the table. Numerous scrolls littered the top of it, the expression on his face something between tiredness and determination.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Nahanit," she answered, taken aback by the weakness and hoarseness of her voice, far from the sultry, husky one she had once possessed.
"And why were you in the cells?"
Her hesitation made the man sigh heavily.
"What did you do to Enkartep?"
"I...I betrayed him."
"As did others in those cells. What specifically did you do to merit your punishment?"
"We...we had a plan, but I had my own, so I betrayed him. I thought him dead, but when I saw him next, he was different."
"Different how?"
"He looked different, and acted different, more confident. And he had powers. He used them to do this to me."
The man tilted his head in interest.
"To do what exactly?"
She took the time to gesture to her state, the wretchedness of her once-gorgeous body. A shudder ran through her, at the memory of her punishment, the way that her pert figure had so quickly been turned into a gnarled wreck.
"He made me like this."
The man arched an eyebrow.
"You did not age into this? He made you this?"
She nodded slowly, the motion causing a sharp crick in her neck.
"When was this? After the Battle of Khezresh?"
She shook her head this time, again feeling an ache erupt.
"I do not know how long ago this was. Ten, twenty, thirty years..."
"You said he had powers?"
"Yes," she said, "strange ones."
"You say that as if he did not already have them."
She frowned.
"He did not. I saw no such powers before that. And I knew him well enough."
"You knew him before he had his powers?"
She nodded.
The man's eyes widened for a quick moment.
