The midwives answered Pharaoh, “Hebrew women are not like Egyptian women; they are vigorous and give birth before the midwives arrive.”
So God was kind to the midwives and the people increased and became even more numerous. And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families of their own.
Then Pharaoh gave this order to all his people: “Every Hebrew boy that is born you must throw into the Nile, but let every girl live.”
Exodus 1: 15-22
Chapter 9
The Traveler
The passing days melted together. Naími was surprised to find a certain serenity in their monotony. Her wounds had healed, but she had little energy. A morning audience with the king had left her completely exhausted. He had made her wait a long time, standing in the corridor, only to skim her predictions.
Once back in her quarters, Dewei had sat her in the lounging chair of the minuscule balcony and fixed a papyrus umbrella over her. She could hear him go from room to room, ranting against the pharaoh’s busy schedule.
“Calm down,” she said, sipping her wine. “The king seems pleased by my work.”
“I don’t care about that child’s opinion,” shouted Dewei from Naími’s bedroom. “He’s but a tool for our mission. And the princess too, need I remind you!”
“Don’t be unfair. She’s been a dream since the temple. Look, she even sent over excellent wine. You should drink some. It’d relax you.”
He joined her outside, holding a cup. “I’m suspicious. She comes to see you every day, talks about nonsense, and asks too many questions about Celestials. And now she’s sending gifts?”
He switched Naími’s cup with another, this one full of water. She drank it obediently. Once appeased, he gave her back the wine.
“I have good feelings about Soromeh. Trust me.”
“You’re leaving me no choice,” he said, going back inside.
She rolled her eyes and went back to watching the esplanade. The setting sun made everything look golden and the many buildings and villas pink. There was a current of tired workers leaving for the main gates.
A lone man was slowly walking against the flow. He wore a grey woolen coat and held a walking stick. His straw hat was strangely decorated with two pigeon wings attached to the sides; his sandals were the same. He seemed to be looking for something.
His eyes found Naími’s. The man was surprised for a moment, but he quickly changed his expression for a beaming smile. He took off his strange hat and bowed to her. She graced him with a slight nod. He then sent her an enthusiastic kiss. At that point, she snorted and raised a hand to stop him. He placed a fist against his chest, as if heartbroken. She smiled despite herself.
That seemed enough for him. He smiled at her one last time, put back his hat, and happily strode towards the library.
When she raised her head, she noticed that Harouk was watching her from the archway, an eyebrow raised.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your new conquest, oh noblewoman, but the others are here. We should start before Dewei explodes.”
“Perfect. Give me a moment. I just need to stand—”
He grabbed the chair and lifted it, with Naími still sitting, and brought her back inside before she had the time to complain. He placed her back, softly, in the middle of the main room.
There was a heavy silence in the air. Anubis, in his human form, stood in a corner, arms crossed. Silas and Dewei were watching his every move.
Naími sighed internally. “Since we’re all here, we can start. Anubis, thank you for joining us.”
Dewei snapped. “Do we need him to be here? You and Harouk pleaded for him, but we still have no tangible proof of his trustworthiness.”
“When you and your friends stop a massacre of Hebrew children, then you’ll have your proof,” said Anubis.
Naími raised a hand. “Stop it, both of you. We don’t have time to lose with infighting. Harouk swears that Anubis is on our side. That should be enough. Dewei, can you catch him up?”
He grit his teeth. “We have few resources. Naími is the only one of us who can make decisions, but her abilities are limited by her human body.”
At Anubis’s curious glance, she explained. “I can read minds and see the future in dreams. My visions are mostly vague. All I know is that we have to remain in the palace. The king is at the center of everything. If we want to stop this massacre, we have to stop him.”
“Or the one who’s controlling him,” Anubis added. “Did you keep looking through his entourage?”
She hid her face in her hands and whined.
“Forty-six,” answered Dewei in her stead. “She read the mind of forty-six people. Nobles, servants, councilmembers, everyone who gravitates around the king. Princess Soromeh and Vizier Damon are clean. The king and Princess Kamilah are impossible to approach.”
“That’s bad. The eldest princess also has the authority to give such an order.”
Naími sighed. “I have to look her in the eyes, call her by her name, and touch her. Two out of three are crimes. I still have to comb through some leftovers from the council and the nobility, I just wish I could get something more than headaches. With some luck, one of them will know something.”
Silas talked for the first time. “We need the name of the person organizing the attacks. Such a huge operation must have left traces.”
“Follow the money,” said Anubis. “That’s a good idea. It would be even better if the guards had left survivors.”
“I interrogated the last ones to be executed,” said Silas. “They knew nothing.”
“Then we need to find their leader,” thought Naími aloud. “Anubis, you went to fetch the souls from the temple. Do you know where they went?”
Dewei frowned. “No.”
“I brought them to be judged,” said Anubis. “The leader failed the test of the scales. That means he was sent to Hell.”
Dewei spoke louder. “No.”
Silas was horrified. “Then it’s true. You hand your worshippers to the demons.”
“Only the ones unworthy to enter our afterlife!” said Anubis. “Are you telling me all your humans are allowed to enter your paradise?”
Naími raised her voice. “It’s not the moment to argue over this. Anubis, people say Netcheroos are friends with demons.”
“Let’s not exaggerate. Most demons are very unpleasant to be around. I have no intention of ever meeting their king, if what I heard about him is true.”
Dewei was breathing faster. “Naími, no.”
“Do you think you could show me how to get into Hell?” she asked.
Dewei exploded. “You’re still hurt! You’re a human, and an angel on top of that! You will never be able to escape!”
Anubis pointed at him. “Your nanny has a point. But you’re lucky because I can easily get in and out of Hell. I’ve often done it before, so I shouldn’t have a prob—”
Suddenly, Harouk jumped out of the balcony door.
They saw him fight something and pull it inside. At first, Naími thought it was a strange bird but then realized that it was a foot. A foot wearing a sandal with a pair of small wings beating frantically.
Harouk had to use all of his strength to win. The intruder landed in the middle of the room, cape and straw hat askew. He jumped towards the front door but found it blocked by Anubis.
He tried to leave through the balcony door again but was blinded by a white light. Harouk was back in full angelic form and blocked the way with his wings. The intruder stopped, shocked, and hovered in place for a moment. Anubis used that time to change back to his Netcheroo appearance. He used the blunt inner side of his fan-axe to grab the intruder and throw him to the floor.
The stranger pushed back the hat from his eyes and found himself facing Harouk’s sword and Anubis’s axe. He burst into laughter.
“Who are you?” demanded Anubis. “What are you doing here?”
“What’s so funny?” added Harouk.
The stran
ger beamed at them. “Oh, you’re making it too easy! I thought it’d take me several seasons, but here is the proof I was looking for! I should thank you!” He turned to Naími. “And you have my gratitude too, dear lady!”
Dewei immediately stepped in front of her.
She groaned. “I saw him on the esplanade. You were invisible to mortals, weren’t you?”
He nodded, still smiling obnoxiously.
“It’s my fault,” she sighed. “I looked him in the eye.”
Harouk pointed his sword with more insistence. “Just tell us what you want.”
“I’m an envoy of Olympus, my dear friend. Which makes this,” he pushed the tip of the sword away with a finger, “a declaration of war.”
Harouk and Anubis stepped back reluctantly. The Olympian got up and dusted his clothes. Despite the agitated wings of his sandals, he looked perfectly human, if a bit shinier.
He bowed before Naími, still smiling. “My respect, noble lady. I am saddened we meet due to such unpleasant circumstances. I hope it won’t lessen your opinion of me.”
“Just tell us what you’re doing in Egypt,” she snapped.
“There’s no need for such mistrust. I am but a humble messenger. Hermes, at your service.”
“Ha!” barked Anubis. “I know your reputation. You say you’re a messenger, but you’re a liar and a thief. Naími, don’t believe a word he says.”
“You think you insult me, but I only hear compliments. I have heard of you too, Anubis, the one who walks with death. I didn’t know you also walked with your enemies.”
Anubis sneered. “That’s none of your business. What are you doing in Egypt?”
“My father and king, the powerful Zeus, got the strangest letter,” he said, taking a papyrus scroll from the folds of his tunic. “A letter, sent through mortal means, arrived at the foot of our mountain. Inside, what news? Netcheroos conspiring with their eternal enemies, the angels! Are they expanding their territories? Are they a menace to Olympus? Who knows?”
“I swear to you, nothing concerns your people,” said Anubis, growing impatient. “You can go tell that to your king.”
“Wait,” said Naími, lifting a hand. “Who sent this letter?”
Hermes hesitated a moment, then handed her the papyrus, shrugging. “There’s no name. That doesn’t change the fact that it speaks the truth—you’re conspiring!”
“It’s a good quality papyrus, but not the best,” she said with a frown. “Any palace worker can get hold of it. Same for the ink. It’s written in common Mycenean. All scribes know it. Anyone could have dictated it and sent it north on a ship.”
“This doesn’t help at all,” concluded Dewei.
“Help what?” asked Hermes. “If you’re not conspiring, what are your plans? Are you alone in this? Are you going to invade Olympus with just the five of you?”
“Leave!” ordered Anubis.
Harouk took the Olympian by the arm and pulled him back to the balcony door.
“I can be persistent!”
Harouk threw him over the railing. Hermes righted himself up and hovered in place. He raised his hat.
“Well, I was glad you make your acquaintance, sirs, my dear lady. See you soon!”
He flew up and disappeared from their sight.
Dewei exploded. “The jackal, the princess, and now the messenger of the Olympian king! Is there a single person in this kingdom that doesn’t know about our presence here?”
Harouk and Anubis exchanged a glance, but neither mentioned the goddess Bastet.
“Anubis is on our side, and Soromeh is under control,” said Naími. “I don’t know what to do about this one, though.”
“To attack their messenger would be to declare war on Olympus,” said Anubis.
“Angels are on good terms with them,” said Silas.
Anubis snorted. “You mean you just don’t speak to each other and everyone is happy about it.”
“There’s some hope,” said Naími. “If he hangs around to spy on us, that’ll give us more time to decide what to do about him.”
“Yes, but in the meantime, he’ll be observing everything we say and do,” said Dewei.
“Then we’ll need to be quick and discreet,” she concluded. “Reading the minds of the members of the royal court left us with no answers. Time to try something else.”
Anubis shrugged. “As I was saying before getting rudely interrupted, I can go find the leader of the brigands in Hell. Don’t look so worried. It’s not the first time I’ve gone there.”
“Still, be careful,” warned Harouk. “I don’t want to have to fetch you in an ocean of fire and lava.”
“Oh, my dear Uriel, how naive you are. There are so many worse things in Hell than fire and lava.”
* * *
Soromeh opened the door, careful to not make the hinges squeak. The room was almost completely dark, but the moonlight let her see four beds. The sleeper closest to the door startled awake, sat up, and grabbed a small alabaster statue from under the covers.
Soromeh raised her hands before he could throw it. “Barak!” she whispered. “It’s me—it’s just me!”
He took a moment to calm down. He placed the statue back under the sheets and looked around, lost.
“Your majesty? What’s going on? Is it time for your morning meal? But the sun hasn’t risen yet.”
“No, it’s the middle of the night. You can go back to sleep. I—I’m just…”
Barak laid back down without hearing her explanations and quickly started to snore.
She walked to Onamu’s bed, empty. The child had made a nest out of many bedsheets and pillows, between the bed and the wall. She would have to convince him to sleep on a mattress, even if said mattress had to be on the floor.
Next to the window was another empty bed. No one had touched it since Misha made it the morning they had left for the temple. A candle, half-melted, was on the side table. No one had opened the wicker chest.
Soromeh sat on the floor and rested her head on Iram’s bed. He woke up.
“...Your majesty?” he murmured.
“You can go back to sleep,” she said in a monotone. “I’m sorry to have woken you again.”
“I told you, your majesty, we will never stop you from mourning Misha’s memory.”
“At least I didn’t wake Onamu, this time. Just go back to sleep. I don’t need anything.”
“Can I offer you my company?”
Slowly, she nodded. He sat next to her, keeping a reasonable distance, and pulled his bedsheets to cover them both.
“How is your brother doing?” she asked to fill the silence. “I haven’t had the time to really talk with him. I hope he likes the palace.”
“He’s still nervous. He spent many years in the streets, so all this is new to him. He doesn’t speak much, but he’s a quick learner. I’m not worried for him—I’m worried for Onamu.”
“Onamu? Why?”
“Nothing bad. I just think that someone new in the quarters makes him anxious. He doesn’t talk to the guards anymore, he can’t look at Barak, and he works silently, staring at the ground. He started hiding food again.”
“I thought he was happy here. He’s always smiling.”
“He smiles for you, your majesty,” whispered Iram.
Soromeh wanted to say something, but she couldn’t find the words.
Instead, she placed her hand, palm up, between them. Slowly, Iram placed his next to hers, without touching.
Soromeh held it, fingers interlaced, their secret hidden in the silence of the night.
* * *
Damon opened an eye and groaned when he realized it was dawn already. He cuddled up to Sethy.
“Are you sleeping?” muttered the king.
“Yes.”
“Perfect. Me too.”
They stole a few moments more, but there were voices in the corridor, and they were getting louder.
Sethy frowned and hid his face in Damon’s neck. “I could s
wear there’s more of them with each passing day. They should find something more productive to do instead of bothering me.”
Damon laughed. “Oh people of Egypt, your king loves you.”
“From sunrise to sunset. I am still allowed, right now, to love a man more than a country.”
The Celestial Conspiracies Page 12
