The Shadow of Perseus by Claire Heywood

Author:Claire Heywood [Heywood, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2023-02-21T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 26

The breeze that had begun so pleasantly grew stronger over the following days, until the whipped-up sand began to scratch at Andromeda’s skin. The people of the oasis were used to sandstorms. Every spring they came and every spring they were endured. But it was summer now. This wind paid no heed to season, tearing down from the north to blight their crops and choke their livestock. Unnatural, unrelenting, inescapable. No matter how tightly Andromeda wrapped her scarf she found her skin stripped dry, her ears and nostrils filled with sand. She had never known a storm so bad. Even the spring storms lasted no more than a day at a time.

On the evening of the third day, a meeting was called. The lords of the oasis were to gather in the Great Tent, and Andromeda’s father asked that she accompany him.

“You know my hearing is not what it was,” he said as he wrapped himself against the scratching wind. “If the men speak too quietly you can tell me what they say.”

Andromeda was pleased to go with him. The oasis was her home as much as anyone’s, and she was anxious to know what would be done to preserve it. Nor did the other lords go alone. Many of them brought sons or brothers, and though Andromeda felt a few eyes rest on her, no one stopped her from entering the Great Tent and taking her seat among the men. They had greater concerns.

The tent was cramped. Usually a gathering such as this would be held outside, but the storm made that impossible. And so here they sat, hot bodies pressed against one another, voices buzzing like flies. Eventually Wayheset, High Priest of Ammon, cleared his aged throat and a pregnant hush fell.

“Three days we have suffered the winds of the north. Our flocks die in their pens, our crops are ripped from the earth. I have consulted with the oracle of great Ammon, so that we may know the cause of this disaster.”

Wayheset paused to swallow and lick his cracked lips. No doubt his throat was as dry as Andromeda’s, but she couldn’t help feeling impatient as she waited for him to continue.

“The great god is angry,” he said eventually. “It is we who have brought about this anger, by an excess of pride. And now Ammon of the wide sky sends his winds from the sea in the north, to punish us for our conceit.”

There was a quiet muttering around the tent as the revelation was digested. Andromeda turned to her father to see if he had heard the priest’s words, but the many wrinkles of his forehead told her that he had. He gazed at the central fire in solemn thought.

A movement caught Andromeda’s attention, and across the tent she saw long-faced Osorkon rising from his mat. His son, Nabis, remained seated, though he cast his small eyes about the room, with heavy lids narrowed. Afraid that they would fall on her, Andromeda looked instead to Osorkon as he adjusted his ostrich feathers.

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