The Celestial Conspiracies

by Talhi Briones

  His mocking laughter sounded like a bark.

  “I thought those were only myths! What kind of Celestial would want to stay trapped in a human body for an entire life? Suffer, get older, feel your body weaken with time? Tell me, what reason made you want to feel hunger and thirst? What reason—”

  Naími pointed her dagger to his throat. He did not notice.

  “It’s you,” he breathed. “They sent you. You’re here to protect the Hebrew prophet.”

  Naími stood still. Her arm did not tremble, but her eyes showed the panic rising in her. Anubis finally stepped back, his hands held in peace.

  “You don’t have to fear me, angel. We’re allies, of a sort. I won’t get in your way.”

  “Am I supposed to believe you?”

  “Let’s say that your victory would… advantage me.”

  She squinted and hid her dagger in the folds of her tunic.

  “I see what they say about your clan is true. You would devour each other for power.”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear about us, angel.”

  “I’m not an angel.”

  She walked past him and started looking for Soromeh again.

  “If you’re here, that means events are getting in motion,” thought Anubis out loud, following her. “You’re pretty late. The Hebrew Prophet is supposed to be born around this time!”

  “I’m not looking for a Hebrew child but an Egyptian princess.”

  “An—oh! There’s the soul I was missing! It’s your intervention that’s been itching at me all day. The princess was supposed to die in this massacre, her head brought back to the one who orchestrated all this… You! You changed her destiny!”

  Naími turned around, impatient.

  “Think about it for a moment, Netcheroo. Who, do you think, would have the resources to organize something like this, only to kill a young girl without a real shot at the throne? The demon sent by your people is getting ready to strike.”

  “The king just killed himself,” said Anubis, blinking. “His youngest daughter is attacked in the desert. The eldest daughter lost her husband on a naval raid, earlier this year. If I remember correctly, the queen-mother also died in a sudden way, a decade ago… A venomous snake bit her, in the middle of the palace gardens.”

  “They’re getting rid of anyone that could oppose their plans,” she said, nodding. “I need to gain access to the palace to find them, and to enter the palace, I need the princess.”

  “Turn right, then, I can feel her soul towards the east.”

  Naími disappeared in a narrow alley.

  Chapter 4

  The City

  Soromeh ran from street to street. She stopped at an intersection to get her breath back and saw that she was lost. The surrounding houses were too high and too close together to let her find the palace.

  She walked a long time, until she left the poorer neighborhoods. The streets got wider and cleaner, the houses looking more Egyptian. Passersby stared at her dirty clothes with suspicion. She tightened her traveling cloak around herself and quickened her pace.

  Suddenly, between two houses, she caught a glimpse of the palace’s white outer wall. She started running, her eyes filling with tears. She did not notice the patrolling soldier. He caught her by the veil and pulled back, hard.

  “Where are you running like that? The neighbourhood is way too nice for vermin like you.”

  “I’m going back home, to the palace!” she coughed, strangled by the fabric of her veil. “I’m Princess Soromeh, daughter of the king. My convoy was attacked in the desert. You have to escort me—I need to speak to my brother!”

  He burst out laughing. Soromeh tried to free herself, but he had also grabbed a fistful of hair.

  “I never heard that one before!” he laughed. “Follow me. We’ll see what my boss has to say about it.”

  He pulled her without listening to her yells. Soromeh called for help, but none of the surrounding doors opened.

  They reached a larger intersection, lit by torches. Five other guards were waiting. A couple of poorly dressed kids stood in line, hands tied. Soromeh was brutally placed with them, next to the smallest, who didn’t reach her chin.

  “I’ll have you thrown in jail!” she yelled, pulling at the ropes holding her wrists.

  The guards ignored her. Systematically, they started removing veils and examining the kids, one by one. They made them bow their heads and uncover their napes. Girls and boys, kids and teenagers: they all stood there, calmly, and let the soldiers move them around. The torchlight showed that every single one of them bore the same scar.

  “Another rat,” said a guard. “They multiply faster than real ones.”

  The children were freed. Before the last disappeared into the night, a soldier grabbed them by the arm.

  “Tell your leader that if you guys keep growing in numbers, we’ll grow our prices.”

  Soon, there was only Soromeh and the smallest kid left. When they grabbed him, he fought back like none of the previous ones had done. A guard removed the scarf that covered his head and stepped back in disgust.

  The child was pale like few people were in Egypt. His hair was badly cut and the color of rust. His skin was covered in spots.

  “Pustules!” shouted a guard, lifting the kid’s sleeves. “He’s sick!”

  “Still, check if he’s got the mark,” said another. “The desert rats accept anyone in their ranks. Even sick, if we kill one, it’s open war.”

  A soldier checked the kid’s nape and found no scar.

  “He’s not one of them. We can get rid of him.”

  “Do we sell him, boss?” asked the one holding the torch.

  “Who would want a sick slave? No, he’s worth nothing. What was he doing when you found him?”

  “He was hiding under some stairs, but he had a small bit of loot with him,” he said, showing off a handful of necklaces. “Probably a marketplace thief.”

  “No need to jail him. He’d make all the other ones sick, too. Just cut his hand off. That’ll teach him to steal from Egyptian people.”

  The kid shrieked in terror. They gagged him with his own scarf. The guard holding him had trouble keeping him at arm's length.

  “Hold him better—he’s going to run away!”

  “I don’t want to catch whatever he got!”

  “Then tie him down! Let’s finish here and leave. Those scoundrels are going to wake all the neighborhood. Hand over the girl.”

  Soromeh was pulled in front of the chief, despite her yelling. He had to grab her by the waist, arms locked, before he could remove the rest of her veil. Two others had to grab her feet. The chief pushed her hair aside and checked her nape.

  “She’s not one of them. We can sell her,” he said. “She’s got nice hair and soft skin. We easily could get a good price.”

  “Release me, you snakes! My father will have your heads!”

  “She keeps saying she’s of royal blood,” laughed another thug. “She looks like she rolled around in manure!”

  “It’s still good fabric,” admitted the chief, grabbing a fold of the dress. “You think she stole it from a woman of the neighborhood?”

  “—I am Soromeh, daughter of King Ramses and Queen Satre, I am a descendant of gods, and I swear by each and every one of them that your souls will perish in eternal suffering—”

  “Boss, look at her hands,” said another. “They’re still soft, like she never worked a day in her life.”

  “Curses,” spat the chief. “She’s nobility, for real.”

  “What do we do?”

  “We can’t let her live. She’ll have us decapitated. Hand me your sword.”

  “Help! Someone help me, by Horus!”

  They gagged her. It took all four of them to immobilize her while the chief approached with the sword. He placed the cold metal against Soromeh’s skin as she turned her head, crying.

  “We could simply cut out her tongue,” he hesitated. “We could still sel
l her for a nice amount.”

  A stone struck him in the face. The other guards saw him fall, blinked, and took a moment to react. A dark silhouette suddenly appeared behind one of them and sliced his throat.

  Naími pointed the bloody dagger their way.

  “Let her go.”

  The three remaining soldiers glanced at each other. Two of them released Soromeh’s feet and took out their war axes.

  They attacked at the same time. Naími jumped sideways to avoid the first blade, grabbed the handle of the second, and pulled forward. The soldier lost his footing, and she took that moment to stab her dagger between the shoulder and the neck, steal his axe, and throw it towards the other soldier. It landed in his chest.

  He fell to his knees while Naími caught her breath. She took her dagger back and wiped it on the soldier’s uniform. He was shaking on the dirty ground, holding a hand over his open wound, trying to keep his blood inside.

  Naími turned to the last of them. He held a sword to Soromeh’s neck. She was still fighting.

  “Step back!” shouted the guard. “Let me go, or I’ll kill her!”

  “Your majesty, do not move,” ordered Naími.

  Soromeh listened to neither and kept kicking the air. She caught the soldier’s knee, and he flinched for a short moment. Soromeh escaped his grasp. A moment later, Naími’s dagger hit the soldier in the stomach.

  Soromeh ran three steps before stopping and turning around. Naími was getting her dagger back while looking at her. The firelight showed her fierce eyes, the blood on her clothes, the metal of the blade. Further back, almost in the shadows, Soromeh could also see the child’s face. He was still gagged, tied up, and crying, making himself look as small as possible.

  Soromeh came back towards Naími, slowly lifting her hands in peace. The nomad’s eyes followed her all the way until she reached the child.

  “Everything’s all right,” muttered Soromeh. “The soldiers can’t hurt you anymore.”

  The child glanced around in fear, saw there was not a single guard left, and calmed down a bit.

  Soromeh softly removed the scarf and placed a hand on the boy’s head.

  “Peace. I will untie you. What is your name?”

  He stared at her in silence. His eyes, huge and scared, were still full of tears.

  “All right, you don’t have to tell me. The ropes are too tight. I need to cut them.”

  She turned back to Naími, who was still staring. The princess hesitated, then held out a hand. A moment of silence went by, and then Naími presented her with the hilt of her dagger.

  Once the nomad had stepped back again, Soromeh cut the ropes and helped the child stand up. He grabbed her dress and refused to let go.

  “You can follow me,” she whispered. “We’ll find you something to eat at the palace, if we ever reach it.”

  She thought for a moment and walked back to Naími. The nomad was busy slapping the first guard’s face, the one she had only knocked out with a rock. He woke up and tried to run, but Naími slammed him back on the floor, pushed his face in the dirt, and tied his wrists behind his back.

  “Come, your majesty. We lost enough time in this town.”

  “Are you going to tie me up again?”

  “Are you going to run?”

  They stared at each other in silence, measuring the other’s will. Soromeh was the first to shake her head, exhausted, and followed her.

  The child still grabbed her skirts. They found their camels a couple of streets over, to the great relief of the guard Ookami.

  Naími threw her prisoner face down over the camel’s saddle, like she had done with Soromeh, and led the way. The palace walls were visible between the darkened houses.

  * * *

  The official announcement of the king’s death had been made in the middle of the afternoon. The throne room was quickly filled. The crowd spilled over the palace steps, and soon, the grieving population had covered the great plaza. Come evening, a thousand torches, lamps, and candles were lit in silence. The main doors were kept open so that even the people standing further back could see the statue of the falcon god.

  Sethy, Kamilah, and Damon stood near the empty throne. The steps leading to the dais were covered in members of the nobility, arranged by their relative importance.

  Trumpets broke the silence. All heads turned in a single movement towards the great doors of the outer wall. Near the throne, the king’s children exchanged a worried look.

  “That’s the princesses’ melody,” muttered Damon.

  He and Sethy quickly climbed down, followed by their guards.

  They reached the palace threshold and saw the crowd move to let a strange group approach, Soromeh at their head.

  Dirty, disheveled, and her skin burned by the sun, she was a sad sight. She was holding a child by the hand. A woman behind her pulled the reins of two camels. The first carried two soldiers wearing the royal colors, one of them unconscious. The other carried a city guard, tied up.

  “Send for the physicians,” ordered Damon.

  Sethy approached his sister. He saw the marks on her arms and neck, the blood and dirt on her face.

  “Soromeh?” he asked. “By the gods, what happened?”

  “My convoy was attacked on the temple road,” she said, her voice shaking. “Many died. Others were captured. Like Misha. Brother, send troops to bring her back, I beg you.”

  Her goal finally reached, she lost her strength and faltered.

  The child tried to keep her upright. Damon took her in his arms and placed her head on his shoulder. The child refused to let go of her dress.

  “Bring her to her chambers and see if you can get answers,” muttered Sethy before going back to the throne room.

  Damon nodded. He glanced at the rest of the group. A group of guards were leading Ookami and Pa-Heb inside; others were took care of the prisoner. The nomad walked up to him and bowed.

  “Greetings, sire. I wish to—”

  “Not here. Follow me.”

  He took a side door to avoid the throne room crowd. Once they reached a deserted corridor, Damon turned to the nomad.

  “Who are you, and why were you with the princess?”

  “My name is Naími. I come from the mining region over the eastern sea.”

  “That’s a long way to travel.”

  “The gods demanded it. They appeared to me in a dream and told me to rescue the king’s daughter.”

  “The gods appeared to you in a dream,” repeated Damon, skeptically. “Would that make you an oracle?”

  “If sire wants to use the word.”

  “Tell me the rest,” he said, readjusting Soromeh’s weight. “In short sentences, please.”

  Naími told him about the events of the day with complete honesty. She admitted to tying the princess to a camel, losing her in the city, and killing four soldiers.

  At the end of her tale, Damon stared at her, incredulous.

  “The guard I left alive was the patrol leader,” she continued. “They wanted to sell her majesty the princess as a slave. Once they realised she was of noble blood, they decided to kill her.”

  “We’ll interrogate him,” promised Damon. “We’ll also hear the royal soldiers’ versions and the princess’s, once she wakes up. Prince Sethy will be made aware of your actions towards his sister. He’ll be the one deciding your fate.”

  He found a palace guard and told him to walk Naími to a chamber and keep her under watch.

  Damon finally reached the princess’s chambers. He placed Soromeh on the bed and turned towards the child, who was now waiting at the end of the bed. Damon asked him to leave twice without getting an answer. He took him by the hand and pulled him towards the door.

  The child screamed. Damon removed him from the room and closed the door behind them.

  Soromeh had not even stirred.

  Damon walked through the main reception area and pushed the kid inside the servants’ bedroom, before locking behind him. He ignor
ed the child’s cries, for other things had priority.

  * * *

  The prince’s chambers shone with the first rays of sunlight. Damon was finishing a cup of wine while reporting his findings. He had interrogated the guard Ookami and also Pa-Heb, who had regained consciousness.

  “The city soldier that attacked Soromeh is already in jail. The nomad woman is locked in a room, under watch, waiting on your orders.”

  Sethy and Kamilah exchanged a glance. The eldest made a gracious gesture, letting her brother speak first.

  “It’s a delicate situation,” he admitted. “She brought Soromeh back and saved her life twice but acted in a most illegal manner, tying her like that. What do you think, Damon?”

  “I’ll be honest, if Soromeh had tried to escape in that situation, I’d have pulled her by the ankles over all of the desert hills. This Naími is brutal, but efficient.”

  “We still cannot allow this kind of attitude towards the royal children,” said Sethy. “Kamilah?”

  She thought a moment and turned her impassive gaze towards them.

  “I suggest we give her titles of nobility,” she said, before drinking a sip of wine.

  Sethy massaged his temples, fighting back the migraine that these words were creating.

  “Explain.”

  “She pretends she has seen the future in a dream. True or not, the rumour is already running through the palace. There have been three generations since the royal family had an oracle at their side. Give her the position, put her to the test, and please your gullible subjects. Thank her services with many gifts, turn all eyes towards her, and smooth the power transition.”

  “This all seems very generous of you, dear sister.”

  “Stop seeing me as an enemy. I only wish the best for the country.”

  “Wouldn’t it be dangerous to place a stranger among the palace nobility?” asked Damon. “We know nothing of her.”