Cursed Times - Only Yesterday! Sequel to Wattys 2015 winner!

Chapter 25: Trueth From the Dark Side with Love

Never would Trueth have thought that one day she would welcome the noise and smells of the early morning rubbish collection. A radio in the neighbourhood contributed to the din, blasting Arabic pop music into the chill morning air. Next door, a baby joined the contest and swiftly was lengths ahead of the field. It had most likely woken up after a freight aeroplane had rumbled over their roof, at an altitude that could not have been in line with air traffic regulations.

Her immediate vicinity was a lot more quiet, the inhabitants of the Maadi mansion were still groggy from their recent long-distance portal crossing and must be asleep in their respective beds. Trueth patted her duvet, felt a warm purring lump and sank back onto her down pillow. For once she had been lucky and got her old room back; the 'boys' were all parked upstairs in Metjen's apartment on the top floor.

Hopefully, Pharaoh Khy had not started a war yet. When she had last seen Metjen before retiring for the night, he had been up in magical arms. No blood or other noxious substances were seeping through the ceiling, so Trueth decided cautious optimism might be in order.

The welcome scent of roses drifted into her nose; it originated in a potpourri on the window sill, not from the garden. Although this was Cairo, the back end of October did not exactly offer prime growing conditions. It still beat Britain at the best of times.

Trueth dragged herself out of her warm bed and checked leaden skies that were unlikely to seek relief in rain. Down below, the vegetation had been restored to all its former glory. Gone were the ravages of Metjen's temper; there even was another fountain.

Trueth did not like it.

In general, Akil had done an outstanding job; as far as the water feature was concerned his personal taste-or lack thereof-had got the better of him. The square marble basin was out of proportion, having a lion spit water from between its fangs was sheer kitsch. On the other hand, the components of the new installation appeared stable enough and capable of withstanding the feebler of Metjen's assaults.

Trueth went into the shower and treated herself to a long, hot soak. Steaming water was pelting her body, prickling her skin and massaging muscles that had almost tightened into armour. Worries rose on the steam towards the ceiling, followed by a lavender fragrance from another bowl of potpourri which reminded her of home. Trueth turned off the jet and reached for her lotus oil. Pulling the stopper released the olfactory ghosts of her stint in the past-the pleasant ones.

Relief was only skin deep, all she did was procrastinate when she should be contemplating what to do with her new-found freedom. Trueth pulled a tee over her head, a pair of jeans up her legs, fighting with the zip as the trousers seemed to have shrunk in the last wash.

I got back, I still don't know where to go from here, Trueth thought, twisted her hair into a rough chignon and fixed it with a clip. She picked up her pleated Egyptian robe, admired its tasteful embroidery and wondered whether she would ever get to wear it again outside a fancy dress party. That breastband she was less likely to miss... .

A small item fell to the floor and rolled under the nearest chair. With the recent excitements, the existence of the scroll had dropped from her memory. She had better deliver it to Metjen pronto.

Trueth kneeled and fished around until she got hold of the tightly rolled message. Reading the hieroglyphs running along one side gave her a jolt of surprise-the message was not for Metjen, it was for her. Trueth stared at the letter. The scents of freshly brewed coffee arrived in tempting tendrils through the crack under the door; breakfast was beckoning. Curiosity won over craving, she ripped open the container, unrolled the letter and started to read the neat columns of cursive script flowing across the papyrus. The ink was of an unusual colour, reminding her of the faded sepia in timeworn tomes.