It was a small insect, golden brown from the tips of its two clawed forefeet to the barbed end of the segmented tail arched above its back. My breath caught in my throat as I watched it scuttle away: My precious baby sister had been stung by a scorpion!
“O gods, have mercy,” I whispered, kneeling in the dirt and holding Bit-Bit so close to my chest that I was almost crushing her. She howled louder, tears carving tiny rivers through the smudges on her cheeks, and fought me, but I held her in an embrace made strong by panic. A scorpion! I remembered Mery telling me the tale of how even great Isis had been powerless to shield her son, the child-god Horus, from the life-threatening sting of those venomous creatures, but I’d fallen asleep before she finished. If Isis was so helpless, what could I do?
I began screaming for help, but the street was deserted. The noontime heat was hammering the life out of the land. People were inside their homes, waiting for Ra’s sun-ship to sail westward, bringing back the cool refuge of shadows. The house walls facing the street were thick and had no windows, so no one could hear me, no matter how loudly I yelled. I might as well have shrieked into a tomb.
“Merciful Hathor, what’s the matter with you children?”
I looked up and saw the most remarkable person. He was tiny, no taller than me, with a perfectly round head on top of a perfectly round body that balanced on a pair of thick legs. I was surprised to see that he wore a fine white linen kilt and sandals adorned with sparkling jewels. Because he was so small, I expected him to go around completely unclothed, the way all of us children did. He carried a big palm frond over his head to keep off the sun, and his kohl-rimmed eyes were filled with concern.
“Help us! Please, help us!” I cried, getting a closer grip on my sister, who flailed her feet and bellowed like a whole herd of cows. With tears and snot running down my face, I told the stranger everything that had happened. His wide mouth fell open in alarm.
“A scorpion?” he said. He flung his little body down in the dust beside us and stared closely at Bit-Bit. “What color was it?”
Why does that matter? I thought, but I answered, “Brown.”
“Mmm-hm. And where did it sting her?”
“I—I don’t know,” I said. “Her foot?”
“Let me look.” His strong, square hands reached for my sister’s feet.
Bit-Bit kicked him right in the chin.
He sprawled backward, his short legs paddling the air like a topsy-turvy beetle. The sight took Bit-Bit by so much surprise that she stopped hollering and began to giggle.
“Well, there’s a fine thing,” the little man said to me, shaking his oversized head with mock annoyance as he sat up. “Some magician’s obviously pulled a trick on you, young lady. He’s stolen your real sister and put an enchanted donkey in her place. I’ve half a mind to let the scorpion take her.”
“Oh, please don’t!” I cried, reaching across Bit-Bit to grab his arm. “This really is my sister. Don’t let her die! Mery will be heartbroken.”
“Mery?” The little man’s brow creased with surprise. “Mery the wife of Ay? You’re their daughters?” He glanced at our house, baking in the sun, and sniffed. “True, this is the place. How long it’s been …” All at once, he looked at me so intently that it was frightening. “Ah, yes. I see it now. I would know that face anywhere. You’re Nefertiti, aren’t you?”
All I could do was nod. My lips were dry, and not just from the heat. How could he talk about knowing my face when we’d never met before? My head swam with memories of something I’d seen near Min’s temple the previous year, when the priests hired workmen to add a magnificent new building to the god’s shrine. The first thing the laborers did was set up a stone carved with an image that looked almost exactly like the little man before me, except the carved dwarf had hair and whiskers like a lion’s mane and looked ready to fight. When I asked Mery, she told me it was the god Bes. Always show him honor, she told me. He may be small, but he’s a fierce fighter and especially devoted to protecting children.
Bes! I thought. It’s the god himself, come to save Bit-Bit. And she kicked him! My tears flowed freely as I finally found my voice and exclaimed, “Oh please, don’t be mad at her! She’s only a baby!”
“Of course, of course!” He clapped his hands and winked at Bit-Bit. “So, little donkey, will you let me save your worthless life? Or are you going to kick me again?”
Bit-Bit laughed and began clapping her hands, too. When he crouched in front of us and studied her feet—from a safe distance, this time—she sat docilely in my lap in the middle of the sun-drenched street until he was done.
At last he slapped his broad thighs and looked satisfied. “Just as I suspected. Dry your eyes, Nefertiti—and wipe your nose while you’re at it—the time for tears is over. I know precisely the spell to drive the scorpion venom from this child’s body. Moreover, it will leave her skin unmarked by even the smallest scar from the creature’s deadly stinger.” With that, he began to mutter in a singsong voice, all the while tracing line after line of pictures in the dirt between us. Bit-Bit squealed with delight but didn’t squirm. As for me, I watched in fascination as the god performed his magic.
When he was done, he grinned at me and said, “Casting spells is thirsty work, especially at this time of day. Do you think I’ve earned a drink for my pains?”