The 22 Letters by Richard; Clive; Kennedy King

wave it to attract the pigeons’ attention. How she wished she could whistle like the man across the road who also kept pigeons. Several flocks of different sizes were coming in from the coast and circling over the city, and she tried to make out her own flight with its pair of pure-white birds. Then she remembered, there would only be one white bird. The other was still in the mountains with Aleph. One flock circled lower, and she went on waving; then she stopped to scatter some grain over the roof—just enough to lure them home. They were supposed to find their own food among some country bumpkin’s crops: her father would not allow her a lot of good food to be spared from the kitchen.
    The birds were fluttering around her and settling on her shoulders. She pushed some off, and offered her favorites palmfuls of grain, speaking to them as they cooed to her. “There you are, Midnight. Had a nice day?” she asked the black one. “Get off, Rocky!” she said to a brown one. “I fed you yesterday!” The white one came and perched on her hand. “Ah, my Lady Snowy, where is your husband? Still up in the mountain with that foolish brother of mine? What are they up to together, eh? Well, why don’t you go and fetch him back? You’ve got wings, you can go where you like! If I were you I’d be searching the mountains, right up to the peaks where there’s snow the color of you. Coo? Well, what’s the use of you ?”
    The red sun was dropping toward the sea, the birds were settling on their perches, and it was time for her father to return for his evening meal.
    Resh was cross and silent at supper. When Aunt asked him why he was not eating he snapped that he felt something was eating him, and when Beth asked him sympathetically what it was, he said it was worry, worry, worry, and nothing but worry. He said it had not been like this in the old days; you just got on with your job then and work was a pleasure. But now it was rush and bustle all the time, finish a new temple here, make a tomb there, enlarge the palace somewhere else. And you could not rely on anyone either: the workmen were lazy and incompetent, timber got lost in the mountains, and even the stone they worked was not what it used to be. He Did Not Know What the Times Were Coming to!
    â€œAnd to cap it all—” Resh began to say, before a mouthful stopped him (Help! Beth thought, he’s going to tell Aunt what I did this morning), “To cap it all there’s going to be an offering.” The women were silent, wagging their heads sympathetically.
    â€œWhat’s an offering?” Beth asked.
    Her aunt told her not to ask silly questions, everybody knew what an offering was.
    Resh turned to her aunt. “Perhaps you’ll tell us what it is then!” he said.
    â€œWell, dear, it’s—it’s a thing the priests do,” said Aunt vaguely.
    â€œIf it was a thing the priests did, would it worry me?” demanded Resh. “It’s a thing everyone in Gebal, has to do. Every man jack of us.”
    One of the cousins clicked her tongue. “Oh dear,” she said, “you’ll have to tell me what to do.”
    â€œI don’t mean women ,” said Resh quite rudely. “I’ve no shortage of them .”
    â€œYes, Father,” said Beth sweetly. “Aren’t you lucky to have us all to look after you?” Aunt and cousins looked at her with alarm, but she went on, “What do the men have to do, then.”
    â€œIt’s a counting, you might say, as much as an offering,” her father said. He was usually prepared to explain things to Beth, though she did not always listen. “All the men of Gebal have to come before the King, to be numbered, and of course they have to give him something to show what sort of men they are. In this way the King knows how powerful his kingdom is.”
    â€œHe gets some nice presents, too,” said