LITMIR.BIZ

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doesn’t matter! I want to do something important.”

      “Very well,” Ravi eyed his brother closely in an effort to discern the youth’s abilities. “I assure you the task is quite important. From this day forth, you shall be in charge of the Dakhyu, the men who gather the city’s garbage.”

      Jenda’s mouth dropped open in horror and disbelief and the shock caused him a moment of silence, “This is not a job you need me to do!”

      “I assure you, you are wrong. The Dakhyu have been lazy in their work. We must make certain that all refuse is taken far beyond the city’s borders and buried. Only in this way can we hope to stop the flies that carry the sickness. The fever will persist until we have done so.”

      “It is nearly time to move on!” Jenda complained, as though Ravi had forgotten their ways.

      “We are not leaving,” Ravi said without explanation, “and that is why I need you.”

      Jenda stopped speaking and considered the merits of the job for a few moments. Although it was far from what he had hoped for at least he would be in charge. “I’ll do it but what about mother? She has forbidden me to go near the place.”

      “I will talk to your mother,” Ravi assured him. “I want you to speak with Margi about how you and your men may gain protection from the fever. She knows how to ward off the infection.”

      “Thank you, brother,” Jenda said proudly, “I will serve you well.”

      “I know you will. That is why you have been given the duty. One more thing,” Ravi added as an afterthought, “if you wish, you may choose from among your friends a second-in-command to assist you.”

      At that moment Oman entered the chamber, eyeing his two brothers closely. Much of the conversation had been heard through the goatskin walls.

      “Thank you!” Jenda said excitedly. He moved quickly, almost knocking into Oman as he ran out of the tent.

      “May we speak in confidence?” Oman asked when Jenda was gone.

      Ravi nodded.

      “Although the settlement is quiet, there is a development that you need to know. Some of my people no longer believe their destiny is to have an . . . to have you as their ruler.”

      “You were going to say,” Ravi interrupted, “to have an Egyptian as their ruler.”

      “It is no secret that you would rather be in Egypt. And yet,” Oman said honestly, motioning out beyond the tents, “it is not for discussion with these people.”

      “Then why do you support me?”

      “Because, brother, once peace is established, you will return yourself to Egypt and I will rule in your place.”

      Ravi only nodded again, “Among those who would overthrow me before the time you would choose, does there appear to be a leader?”

      “His name is Chochi—one who would take by force rather than patience. I will keep my eye on him and his temper as well.”

      “Very well, Oman, I trust you.”

      Oman simply watched Ravi and wondered if a brother’s bond could ever exist between them. Like Ravi, he was tall and strong. His muscles were tanned with the bronze color of one who has spent much time in the scorching desert sun. Though his hair was lighter than Ravi’s, it was just as long. He wore his blade about his waist in a jeweled sheath given to him by Joell. A thin turban was wrapped once around his forehead, while the rest of the cloth hanging down to the middle of his back. His sandals were Bedouin, with thicker soles than the Egyptian footwear his brother continued to wear.

      “I must ask why you appoint Jenda chief of the Dakhyu? The task is beneath him. I could use him in my service. The boy is our brother.”

      “For that reason it might be best Jenda to start with the Dakhyu,” Ravi said confidently. “Let no person within the city say he receives special treatment because of either one of us.”

      “I understand,” Oman was cautious, “but I will watch the boy in his new post. The older men have grown quite used to doing as they please; they might not take well to Jenda changing the ease with which they have come to accomplish their labors.”

      “Granted,” Ravi said immediately, “but intervene only if absolutely necessary. Jenda must become his own man.”

      Oman nodded and turned to leave the chamber.

      Ravi moved his eyes from the flapping doorway and was left alone. In the quiet solitude of the tent, his thoughts returned once again to the west and he remembered Esdena.

      Ravi was ten and he stared up at Esdena’s robed arm pointed toward him. The high priest continued his instruction, “Although it is the way of the desert, choose not to worship the earth, nor the sun, nor the moon, nor the stars.” The old man eyed him closely, making certain that young Ravi grasped the words, “Worship neither the Nile nor the harvest, for each of these are mere reflections of AHU, the One, Ahura Mazda . . . they are simply signs of his presence along the way.”

      “I do not understand,” the young boy said yet again. “How can the harvest be a part of AHU?” Already the regal features of the youth’s face had begun to lose their boyish appearance.

      They stood upon a hillside, peering down on the Nile far below. Esdena raised his staff and pointed in the direction of the tropical palms and the dates, making certain that the boy was watching. He turned next to the desert and the cliffs just beyond, pointing his staff at the clouds above before finally pointing in the direction of the river’s banks, where a gathering of female servants dutifully laundered their masters’ attire and found the time to chatter amongst themselves.

      “All that exists and all that could ever be conceived, exists in the One. Without AHU nothing was made that was made, for there is none but he.”

      “The people of the desert have many gods,” Ravi stated as a challenge.

      The old man eyed him closely, “ . . . or do they have many names for but One God?”

      “How can AHU be in more places than one?” The youth squatted to his knees, lifted a fist-sized rock, and hurled it in the direction of the river—the attempt fell nearly four cubits short of the distance.

      Esdena leaned upon his staff with one arm and pointed to the youth’s sandaled feet with the other, “When you scrape the toe of your foot, do your hands not reach down in sympathy?”

      Ravi did not respond, looking instead at the old man with complete confusion.

      The old man continued, “ . . . does the toe exist by itself or is it rather part of the whole?”

      “But Father,” Ravi thought quickly, “my hands do not reach down when you scrape your foot.”

      “Wonderful!” the Magi beamed proudly, “once again, your words show vast progress.”

      The boy selected another rock, took aim, and with as much force as he could manage cast the object toward the Nile; though closer, the stone fell short of its target. Esdena simply watched him, shook his head in amusement, and selected a stone for himself. When the old man was silent, Ravi inquired, “So what does this mean?”

      “It means,” Esdena stared intensely at the rock for only a moment before hurling it toward the river, “that I must include throwing stones in our time together as well.”

      The rock whirled through the air with such force that the child’s mouth dropped open in amazement. He had not imagined the old man possessed such strength. Ravi’s eyes stayed focused upon the stone until there was a loud ‘crack’ as the rock splintered into two equal pieces. A moment later both portions splashed loudly into the water’s current.

      “How did you do that?” Ravi

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