The Celestial Conspiracies

by Talhi Briones

  Anubis took a moment to gather his thoughts. When he raised his head, his eyes were full of fear.

  “I need… I need to go,” he said, his voice shaking. “I was glad to see you again, Uriel.”

  He disappeared, leaving the angel in an empty room.

  Chapter 7

  The Temple of Amon

  Damon had to shout to be heard over the crowd assembled in the reunion chamber. “All those who are not official members of the Council, leave the room, by order of the king!”

  Many nobles who were standing near the walls left, muttering angrily. In the end, there were only a handful of people sitting or standing around the table. Damon noticed that the king was squeezing the armrests of his chair too tightly, a clear sign that he was about to lose his temper.

  “The king’s time is limited,” said Damon. “Only the ones among you with urgent problems may remain.”

  No one moved. The vizier rolled his eyes and went to stand at his king’s right side, fearing the upcoming storm. He gestured to Enirto, the master architect, allowing him to speak.

  “Your highness, I have here the plans for your tomb. Our best artist suggested that we paint constellations on the ceiling of the funeral chamber, with a calendar—”

  The Pharaoh cut him. “Is the sphinx alley of the Temple of Amon finished?”

  “I’m—I’m sorry to say, but no, your highness,” blurted the architect.

  “Then don’t waste my time with such details.”

  Enirto left the room, head held low. Damon raised his eyebrows and, with a touch of sadistic amusement, called the next name. Ankhe, the tiny chief of accounting, stood on his chair to hand the king a handful of papyrus rolls. Sethy browsed them, his mood souring with each page.

  “The numbers of the last census don’t fit at all with what was predicted! There’s twice as many people from Libya, Syria, Nubia, and Phoenicia than what you estimated! And the Hebrews are now three times more numerous than our expectations! If this keeps going on, the capital will count more strangers than sons of Egypt!”

  Damon kept his expression neutral despite being surprised at the words. Sethy showed the door to the chief of accounting. The next, Debeheni, captain of the royal guard, was criticized over the insufficient number of soldiers and was ordered to start a massive recruitment campaign to be ready for war against the Hittites. The old High Priest Menefer Sef left the room, his whole body shaking, with strict orders to finish preparing his successor and have them ready by the next celebrations.

  Soon, the only ones left were Soromeh, slumped in a chair near the window, and Naími, standing in the opposite corner. Before Damon could call either name, Soromeh walked up to her brother’s chair and stood there, arms crossed.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Sethy with suspicion. “You don’t have to go through the official channels to see me.”

  “All the other paths seemed closed,” she grumbled. “I was about to request a formal audience in the throne room. I just hope you won’t throw me out like all the others.”

  “Are you here for a specific reason? Because I’m busy, Soro—”

  “I want you to get rid of her,” she snapped, pointing at Naími. “She follows me from dawn till dusk, stands outside my chambers waiting for me, orders my guards around, looks at me with insubordination—”

  Sethy raised a hand to stop her tirade. “Are you saying that she doesn’t have access to your quarters?”

  “Of course not. I don’t want to see her in my home too!”

  “Oracle, come closer.”

  Naími walked over and bowed gracefully.

  “Oracle, what were the tasks I gave you when you came to live at the palace?”

  “To give you my predictions and be a lady-in-waiting to her majesty the princess,” she answered.

  “And have you accomplished either one, to this day?”

  “I have not. I beg your forgiveness, your highness.”

  The pharaoh stopped himself from sighing in exasperation. “You need to do better if you want to stay on my good side. I want a report of your visions as soon as possible. And Soromeh, I expect you to allow her access to your quarters.”

  “What? No! Iram and Onamu can perfectly take care of all inside tasks! I don’t need her!”

  “It’s an order, Soromeh.”

  She snapped her mouth closed and left the room. Naími bowed again and followed.

  Once the door was closed, Sethy allowed himself to massage his headache.

  Damon removed his headdress and sat on the floor, leaning back on the king’s chair. “Are you still alive?” he muttered after a while.

  “To my great distress. I’m tempted by the silence and darkness of my funeral chamber.”

  “No, no way. You’re still of use to me.”

  The king smiled and placed a hand on Damon’s head, combing the blond curls with his fingers. The vizier sighed in bliss.

  “What is on the schedule, next?” asked Sethy.

  “Silly things,” muttered Damon, closing his eyes. “I need to go over the harem’s accounts, but you know Kamilah wouldn’t let them lose a single gold coin. I’m sure I’ll just have to add my seal. You have a meeting with the Nubian ambassador, the one who’s always talking about his domesticated lions. Then you need to see the representants of Cairo and Heliopolis and play referee to their stupid rivalry. You’re supposed to take your evening meal with Kamilah. Try not to anger her today.”

  Sethy whined.

  “Or,” suggested Damon, “we could also cancel everything and go hide in your quarters until the evening meal. A king can take breaks, right?”

  With the gentle grip he had on Damon’s hair, Sethy pulled his head back until they could look at each other. He stretched his neck and pressed an awkward kiss on Damon’s lips.

  “Such a tempting offer,” he sighed, “but I can’t drop my responsibilities. Will you join me, tonight?”

  “Of course. Your new quarters are too easy to access, with that passage from the queen’s chambers. I almost miss having to climb the potted trees of my balcony to reach yours.”

  “If you complain, I can pick a queen and give her the empty rooms. You would have to find another, more complicated way to see me.”

  Damon laughed, delighted. “I’m glad to know that even a queen of Egypt could not remove me from your bed.”

  “Of course not, my dear idiot.”

  He pressed his brow against Damon’s, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the short break.

  * * *

  Onamu hid under a table, trembling, covering his ears from the noise of shattering clay. Iram stood nearby, not knowing what to do.

  Naími remained impassive in front of the princess’s fury. “Break all the effigies you want, but do not think of throwing a single one my way.”

  “Stop ordering me around!” yelled Soromeh. “I’m in my home, in my chambers, in my palace, in my country! You have no authority here!”

  “I have orders from the king and her highness your sister. She tasked me with giving you better manners and an education fitting your rank. You took advantage of Misha’s leniency—”

  “Do not speak her name!”

  The room fell silent. Naími pressed her lips, realizing her error.

  “Get out,” choked Soromeh.

  The oracle nodded and left. The moment the doors closed, Soromeh let out a scream of pain and rage. She took off her jewelry and threw it away. Once freed from her ornaments, she stayed unmoving for a while, her breathing becoming faster and irregular.

  “...Your majesty?” tried Iram.

  “She didn’t know Misha! You didn’t either. No one did! No one speaks of her, no one is grieving, and her dresses were brought to her family grave, her perfumes—she used to wear a floral perfume, but I can’t find the bottle, and I don’t know how to ask for it… Nothing smells like her anymore… Nothing…”

  She fell to the floor and curled in a ball, wailing in agony. Iram kneeled nearby. Onamu came
out from under the table and held the princess with his small arms.

  Iram was too old to break the rules. He was powerless in front of Soromeh’s pain.

  Then, slowly, he opened a hand and offered it, palm up, on the floor between them. Soromeh grabbed it and held it tightly, almost painfully.

  They remained like that for a long time, all three of them, in silence.

  * * *

  The library was built halfway between the palace and the outer walls. It was a massive building made of stone with tall doors kept open from sunrise to sunset. All around it were several smaller buildings that were used as housing for the scribes.

  Naími avoided the continuous flow of people coming and going though the main entrance and stopped on the threshold, impressed.

  The central space was bigger than the throne room. Hundreds of scribes sat on an impeccable mosaic floor, all in perfect straight lines. They noted whatever was dictated to them by numerous accountants, counter-masters, architects, merchants, and peasants.

  Further back were rows of bookcases that almost reached the ceiling, each shelf holding baskets filled with rolls of papyrus. Everything was labeled and ordered by subject. From her spot, Naími could read signs pointing to finance, harvest, sacred texts, royal genealogy, judicial reports, measures of the Nile floods, and the population census.

  The master scribe approached her. She had always thought his shoulders and belly seemed too big for the palace corridors, but he looked right at home in the library’s gigantic space.

  “Oh what delight for my eyes!” he exclaimed. “It isn’t often that ladies grace my humble library with their presence, and none are as lovely as you. How may I be of assistance, Oracle Naími?”

  “I’m looking for a scribe to note my predictions. I need the work to be quick and flawless, since I have to present it to the king.”

  “I will personally find you an assistant. Take a seat, take a seat! These couches are the most comfortable we have. You!” he snapped to the merchants who were occupying them. “Let the lady sit! And I don’t want anyone bothering her!”

  He disappeared behind a row of shelves and came back some moments later with a tall and nervous-looking young man, who was holding a clay tablet and had a stylus behind his ear. The scribe bowed awkwardly, not knowing where to place his long limbs.

  “My lady, this is Kham,” said Master Pamiu. “He is ridiculously shy in front of women as pretty as you are, but his work is excellent.”

  “He’ll do. I’m not interested in his conversation.”

  She thanked Master Pamiu and avoided another flow of compliments. She left the library followed closely by the scribe Kham and found herself facing Dewei. He was waiting for her on the steps, arms crossed.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be guarding the princess’s chambers right now?” she asked.

  “I switched with Silas. You could have waited for one of us to be free so we could escort you.”

  “Are you afraid I’ll get attacked by a scribe?” she asked, gesturing at Kham’s frail silhouette. “I don’t need armed guards to go to the library, Dewei.”

  “This life is making you too comfortable,” he said, side-eyeing Kham. “Any of these humans can be the one we are looking for.”

  “Do you intend to spend the day growling at anyone who comes close to me? I have work to do, and you’re distracting me.”

  “What work? Don’t your visions usually come when you’re sleeping?”

  “Of course, but that’s not impressive enough. I’ll have to look mystical and show up where gossipers can see me. Now let me be. I need to slice open the stomach of a goat and read its entrails.”

  The angel could not oppose a direct order and left in a bad mood.

  Naími went by her quarters to put on a shimmering dress and set a translucent veil over her hair. She added a beaded belt where she strapped the holster of her ceremonial dagger. After some thought, she painted her face with unusual shapes and colors.

  “What do you think?” she asked Kham, who had waited in the corridor. “Do I look mysterious?”

  He blurted something, looking at the floor. She was satisfied with the result.

  All day, they went to strategic spots to attract attention. She read out loud the swimming patterns of the fish in the main pool, to the delight of the gathered nobles. The priests helped her sacrifice a goat on the palace’s front steps. She threw a handful of salt on the throne stairs and a handful of sand in the outer wall entrance. Kham dutifully noted all her words, filling his bag with clay tablets.

  In the evening, when the sky was painted in reds and golds, they went to the palace docks. Downstream, the huge royal ships were tied to granite pillars. In the center were the unloading piers, always occupied by merchant and provision ships. In the south, a wooden dock jutted into the Nile, surrounded by hundreds of small fishing feluccas all tied to each other.

  Naími picked a spot close to the latter, deserted by the early-rising fishermen. She sat like a scribe and closed her eyes. Kham kneeled further away, stylus at the ready. Naími took pity on him and opened her eyes.

  “You can take a break. I have no intention of seeing anything prophetic for now. Enjoy the calm and the sounds of water. You did a good job.”

  He hesitated, but the oracle was already meditating. He took the clay tablets from his bag and aligned them in front of him. He had reread half of his work when he saw a flash of white move from the corner of his eye.

  It was a young girl, running up the dock. She jumped in a felucca and, from there, into the next one and kept doing so until she had reached the furthest one. It’s only when she started untying the ropes that Kham unfroze.

  “Lady Naími?”

  The oracle didn’t answer. Kham saw the girl grab an oar and use it to push against the other feluccas until hers was freed.

  “Lady Naími!” he shouted in a panic. “I think the little princess just escaped!”

  The oracle snapped back from her meditation. He pointed at the boat, its triangular sail filled by the wind.

  Naími swore loudly and turned to Kham. “Go back the way we came. The guard we saw this morning should be skulking around. If you can’t find him, go to the princess’s quarters and ask for Dewei, Silas, or Harouk. Don’t speak to anyone else! I’ll bring her back.”

  Kham nodded and flew up the stone steps. Naími ran the other way, down the dock, and jumped from boat to boat until she could free one. It was light and easy to maneuver, but she lacked experience, and the sail had to be precisely aligned with the wind. Thankfully, the hour was late, and the Nile was empty from the day’s usual chaos.

  “Your majesty!” she yelled against the wind. “Come back immediately!”

  The girl answered by a rude gesture, not even taking the time to turn around. Naími doubled her efforts to get the sail right and accelerate.

  The princess’s felucca changed directions and aimed for the opposite shore. The columns of the Temple of Amon, reddened by the setting sun, contrasted with the darkened sky. An outer wall surrounded the long main temple and several smaller buildings. To the left, Naími could see the main entrance, with its gardens, obelisks, and sphinx statues. To the right, the end of the temple was still under construction, the new colonnades covered in scaffolding.

  The first felucca touched shore, and the princess awkwardly jumped out, ran up the hill, and disappeared among the greenery of the front garden.

  Naími took too long to reach the temple. She jumped out as soon as she reached the shore, hugged the outer wall until she found the entrance, and then sneaked between the shrubs and the stone sphinxes. She couldn’t see a single guard in the courtyard, which was unusual for such an important sacred place.

  She hesitated.

  The situation was suspicious, but she could not afford to lose the princess. She hid behind one of the obelisks of the main entrance. The wooden door was ajar.

  She slithered in and walked through a dark corridor until she reached an inter
ior courtyard bordered by massive columns. The rays of the setting sun stretched long shadows on the stone floor. Naími glanced around and saw that the wall bordering this part of the temple was too high to climb. The only exits were the door she had just come through and the next one, at the other end.

  She spotted the princess’s white dress behind a column.

  “Your majesty, we need to leave this place,” she said, worried. “Our presence is a profanation punishable by death.”

  No impertinent voice snapped back. Naími looked behind her. The door was closed.