Free Sphinx's Princess by Esther Friesner Page A

with Father and the lower-ranking priests joining in. Only the high priest remained unmoving in his chair.
    So, you’re too grand to clap for us?
I thought.
Sitting there like that, do you think you’re the majestic image of Amun or Osiris? You’re about as impressive as a dried-out stick! Bit-Bit and I worked hard on this dance, and we did it for
you,
old frog. I hope that every bite you ever eat is half as sour as your face!
    I took all of my fierce resentment for the priest’s cold arrogance and poured it into my dance. I twirled and leaped across the floor, my arms weaving flowing patterns in the air, my feet riding the pure notes of Bit-Bit’s song. I becamethe dance, and the dance gave me the gift of flight, of strength, of joy. When the music ended, I was breathless but smiling. I grabbed Bit-Bit’s hand, we made a low bow, and I dragged her out of the hall.
    Once through the doorway, I leaned against a wall and slowly slid down it, laughing. “We did it, Bit-Bit!”
    My sister crept back to eavesdrop at the doorway. “Oh, Nefertiti, they loved us!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed. “Even the old priest is telling Father how good we were.”
    “Stupid frog,” I muttered. But I smiled with satisfaction. It had been my idea for us to leave the hall after our dance. If we’d done badly, I didn’t want to listen to forced, insincere compliments, and if we’d pleased our audience, we’d find out soon enough.
    “Do we have to stay out here much longer?” Bit-Bit asked. “The honey cakes are being served.” She sounded wistful.
    “Then we’d better go back in before Father eats them all,” I joked, holding out my hands for her to help me up.
    We stepped across the threshold of the hall and into a river of praise. Mery and Father had to hold back the full measure of their pride in front of the guests, but the high priest and his attendants were under no such restraint. Bit-Bit and I had to stand in the middle of the floor to receive their acclaim. The longer it went on, the more ill at ease I felt. I was proud of my dancing, but so much admiration soon had me squirming, longing to be able to slip back into my chair and be ordinary again. I think that I could have enjoyed the attention more if my dancing were the only thing our guests complimented. But for every flattering commentabout my dance, the priests poured out three times as many about how I
looked
.
    Why does
that
matter?
I thought, lowering my eyes so that I wouldn’t have to look at them.
Wouldn’t my dance be as good if I
didn’t
have “gazelle eyes” or “skin like honey” or “the slender grace of a young palm tree”? I wish Father could say something to stop them. But they’re our guests
. My stomach tightened and I prayed that Isis would silence her babbling priests.
    My sister, on the other hand, reveled in the attention. She forgot all about the honey cakes and greedily devoured every word that commended her singing. I thought she was going to burst with pride.
    “Such a gift should be treasured,” the high priest said. “Most of our temple priestesses don’t sing half as well as this child. It would please me to send one of our more adept singers to give her lessons and to teach her how to play the harp, so that she can accompany her song.”
    “You honor us too much,” Father replied coolly. “Forgive me if I can’t accept your offer until a time when our business is happily concluded.”
    The priest’s eyes were as expressionless and unblinking as a lizard’s. “As you will. May the gods in their infinite power bring us to a speedy agreement. Until then, I hope that you will give your consent to a different offer?”
    “Go on.” Father was on guard.
    “At the Festival of the Inundation, we worship Hapy, who brings the rising of the river, but we do not forget our lady Isis, the god-mother, the giver of life. It would please the great goddess if your lovely daughter Nefertiti joined the ranks of the maidens