“He was looking for the soul of a murderer.”
“That’s going to be deep down. You’ll have to wait.”
A ray of light appeared at their feet, along with a violent and dusty wind. They found themselves in the middle of a storm. Enormous bugs with human faces landed on the cage, stretching their arms through the bones to grab at the souls.
“Perverts! Degenerates!” yelled the bugs. “Give us the lecherous folk!”
Three souls left the cage, heads lowered.
Bastet had to yell to be heard over the wind. “Why would you punish the pleasures of the flesh?”
“What? No, that’s dumb,” said Aïden with a sneer. “Everyone would end here! These are the aggressors. The ones who force themselves on others, the ones who harass, the ones who touch kids and animals. We don’t care about the rest.”
Bastet watched the souls leave with satisfaction. The cage was lowered in the darkness once more.
“Where do we need to go?”
“The murderers are very low, almost at the bottom.”
The second stop was under a torrential rain. Beings covered in wet and dirty capes grabbed specific souls and threw them to the water.
“The ones who overeat and steal from the hungry,” said Aïden with a smile full of fangs.
The levels went by. The greedy, sentenced to hard work, lifted heavy treasures without rest. The next floor was a battleground where thousands of souls fought for eternity.
One of them, a soldier dressed in heavy armor, hit the cage with a resounding noise.
“How is this possible?” shouted Bastet, clinging to the shaking cage. “Souls are supposed to be intangible!”
Aïden looked at her as if she made no sense. “I don’t know what souls are like elsewhere, but here, we can hurt them. We burn, drown, and torture them. They ask for death, always, but they’re already dead.”
Bastet stared at the battle. The warriors, coming from hundreds of different kingdoms, tried to kill each other without goal or allegiance. The wounded suffered through the pain, got back on their feet, and went back to the fight in an unending cycle.
The cage started moving again. Bastet tried to gather her wits. Soon enough, souls were thrown into burning tombs.
“It’s the other clans that send them here,” said Aïden, feeling defensive.
Bastet stayed silent until the next level, the one they needed. A lake of boiling blood stretched on all sides. Creatures—half birds, half women—flew over it. Aïden approached the opening and called for one of them.
The harpy landed on top of the cage, making everything shake. She snapped her teeth at Aïden, who did the same.
“What do you want, runt?” asked the harpy. “What is that one doing here?”
“We’re looking for someone,” said Bastet with authority. “A Netcheroo with the head of a jackal. He came here a couple days ago.”
The harpy shook her head. “No, no, no! He’s not here! He was, but the king sent for him!”
“The king?” said Bastet. “The ruler of Hell?”
“That’s what I said!” screeched the harpy. “The king, the ruler, his highness! He sent for the jackal and pulled him deep, deep underground!”
“Then we’ll go get him,” said Bastet.
The two demons screeched in fear. The harpy flew off. Aïden took several steps back, her wings raised to hide her body.
“No!” she spat. “The ones who go down never come back up! No one can bother the king!”
“Too bad for you, sweetie. You sealed the contract by drinking my blood. You have to do everything in your power to get us out of here, Anubis and me.”
Aïden shook her head frantically, but the cage was moving once again. There were only a few souls left who stepped out at the next level, where screams of pain and sadistic laughter came from the shadows.
The cage moved one last time. There were soon in complete darkness. They went down for a long time, the only noises coming from the chains and their own breathing. The air became colder. Bastet closed her cape.
They touched the ground. The silence and darkness were absolute.
“Are we there?” whispered Bastet.
Aïden did not answer. The Netcheroo grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the cage. The floor was covered in uneven ice. They walked, making tiny steps, until they lost all sense of direction.
“Where are we going?” hissed Aïden. “I don’t even know where the cage is anymore!”
A soft glow appeared at the limit of their sight. Bastet walked faster. There was something in the light. When she saw what it was, she stumbled and stopped.
Anubis was frozen in a thick layer of frost, his expression terrified.
Bastet placed her hands on his cheeks, but couldn’t feel any warmth. There was the faintest breath coming from his mouth. His eyes were still moving. They looked at her.
“Oh, my dear friend!” she whispered. “Aïden! Get me a torch, a flame, anything!”
The demon shook her head and pointed at something in the shadow. Bastet squinted. There were other shapes in the dark. Human souls and demons alike, frozen in ice.
“We have to leave,” hissed Aïden. “The cage won’t wait for us!”
Bastet tried to break the ice with her sickles. “Not without Anubis!”
Such loyalty, whispered a voice.
Aïden yelled in horror and curled at Bastet’s feet. The goddess turned and searched the darkness.
Greetings, Bastet of the Netcheroo clan. Your presence honors me.
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was soft, almost melodious, and terrifying.
Did you come in search of your friend, Lady Bastet?
She tried to answer, but the words refused to come out. She nodded.
It is not often that I release the ones caught by the ice. This level is for traitors, my dear lady. Anubis is one of them, did you know? His guilt freezes him. As does yours.
She looked at her feet and saw that they were stuck in a block of ice. The bottom of her dress was covered in frost. She wanted to use her sickles, but her body did not obey her. She could feel her veins freezing.
You trespassed on my land, you stole one of my demons, and you tried to free a prisoner. I am displeased, Bastet.
The cold grew from her gut to her heart, slowing it down.
I should keep you here. Add a statue to my garden of traitors. You would look beautiful, right next to the one you came to save.
Bastet tried to look at Aïden. The demon was not covered in ice but was still shaking.
I can be lenient. I can let you leave, you and your jackal friend. I ask for a simple thing in exchange. A favor that you’ll owe me. Do you accept?
“Yes,” she breathed, her promise becoming a vapor cloud.
The ice shattered. She could move her feet again. Anubis swayed into her arms, almost unconscious. A white light blinded them, and they were expelled from Hell.
Bastet opened her eyes. They found themselves in a room with Egyptian furniture and painted walls. She glanced out the balcony door. The morning sun shone over the great esplanade. They were at the palace.
She helped Anubis sit on a chair. A whine came from under the table. Aïden was hiding, curled behind her wings.
“Sweetheart, we’re out,” said Bastet. “You filled your part of the pact. You are now free. You can go home.”
“No!” hissed the demon. “He talked to me in my head! I am banished! Out! I’m never allowed inside, ever again!”
Bastet did not know what to do. She could only watch her shake in rage and fear.
There was the sound of the main doors opening. Two people could be heard arguing in the antechamber.
“Out of all the scribes in the country, she had to pick that one!” shouted a man. “Why didn’t you put a stop to this?”
Bastet recognized the next voice as the oracle’s. “What did you want me to say, Dewei? No, your majesty, you can’t pick the handsomest sc
ribe to be your tutor since he’s actually an Olympian sent to spy on us? We were in the middle of the royal library, in front of witnesses!”
“What kind of idea is that, getting her a tutor?”
“It’s not my fault no one was patient enough to teach that kid to read! I didn’t know the Olympian was hiding among the scribes! I do understand why she chose the youngest among them. All the others Pamiu showed her were old and boring!”
“He’s going to be constantly around, bothering us—”
They entered the living area and saw Bastet.
“Hello,” said the Netcheroo. “I need your help.”
Chapter 11
Betrothed
The palace was a dark shape against the darker sky. Few of its windows shone despite the late hour, the Pharaoh’s being one of them.
Sethy and Damon had been sitting in front of a table covered in documents for half of the night.
“How can Alexandria have more dignitaries than we do?” asked Damon. “We’re the capital!”
“Damon, the invitations have to be sent tomorrow at the latest. Pamiu estimates half a day of work for his scribes.”
“Yes, let me breathe,” grumbled Damon. “We can still push back the wedding after our return from the front.”
“The oracle gave her predictions, and you know how superstitious the council can be. They will never let us leave if you two aren’t married.”
“I still don’t get why your father had to make that marriage a last will on his deathbed. Soromeh and I have been betrothed since childhood. I think it’s redundant.”
“He did it to protect her from the court’s scheming. Kamilah has already given a potential heir to the throne. They’ll leave her alone for a couple of years.”
“...And what about you?”
“Father doubted many of my aspects, but never my sense of duty. He knew I would take a wife when the time came.”
Damon went back to his papyrus without saying a word.
Sethy grew impatient. “We already talked about this. You know I have to get married eventually.”
“Getting married is one thing. The harem is another,” said Damon through his teeth.
“So this is about the harem. What were you expecting, Damon? Do you want me to abolish an institution older than my lineage? Do you want to make the court wonder why I would do such a thing? Some people are already too close to the truth.”
At Damon’s surprise, he went on. “Some days ago, Khusebek’s family came to present me not their daughter, but their son! Young, handsome, and open to many suggestions, if I understood their hints.”
“What are you saying? Have they discovered—”
“There’s no need to worry. They won’t risk losing such an advantage by sharing it with the other families.”
“And what did you tell them?”
“What do you mean, what did I tell them? I said no, of course!”
“Don’t look so insulted! It wouldn’t be the first time I have had to give my place in your bed to a courtesan!”
“You know people expect me to act a certain way. If I don’t, people will start paying attention, and we would be eventually found out. Would you prefer I start an official relationship with a woman of the court?”
Damon stood up and gathered his scrolls.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll finish this in my own quarters.”
“Why do you ask questions if you flee their answers?”
“I’ll be done in time. I wish you a good night, your majesty.”
He left through the main door, papyrus scrolls under his arm. The king frowned, ignored the oppressive silence, and went back to work.
* * *
A happy trumpet melody marked the midmorning hour. The king had an announcement to make. Soromeh, who was getting ready to meet her new tutor for their first lesson, groaned in exasperation when a flock of servants burst in her quarters. She was dressed and groomed in record time.
Walking quickly through the corridors, followed by her usual guards, she met Naími, who was also dressed officially.
The oracle greeted her with a brisk nod. “Do you know the reason for such a sudden announcement, your highness?”
“No,” answered Soromeh, her mood sour. “Brother hasn’t talked to me since he thought it would be a good idea to punish one of my companions. Honestly, I’m glad.”
They entered the private antechamber that led to the throne room’s dais. Soromeh froze in the doorway and smiled.
“Kamilah! You brought the baby!”
“Do not wake him,” warned the eldest in a whisper.
Soromeh leaned over the child. His copper skin contrasted with his mother’s pale hands. He was sleeping, his tiny fists grabbing the linen sheet.
“He got so big!” breathed Soromeh.
“He had time to grow up since you last visited my quarters,” reproached Kamilah.
“I’m sorry. I was… distracted.”
“You are allowed to mourn the dead, my sister, but never forget the living.” Then she turned to Naími. “Oracle, come and read my son’s future.”
Naími bowed and was handed the child. She observed his features, the shape of his head, his feet, and the lines on his palms. The baby opened his eyes and stared at her, his expression focused and serious. Naími felt a strange emotion that she immediately erased from her face.
She gave the child back to his mother with a smile.
“You have a beautiful son, your highness. He will be a pillar of strength, courage, and wisdom. His destiny is deeply carved in his hand. His reign will be one of the greatest in Egyptian history.”
Kamilah seemed satisfied. Soromeh, on the other hand, was frowning.
“His reign? Logically, wouldn’t the next king be a son of Sethy?”
The door to the corridor opened once more, to let the king and Damon enter, both in official clothing. Damon looked upset.
“Kamilah, Damon,” started the king, “you’ll take place on either side of me. Soromeh, wait here until the trumpets call you. Oracle, you’ll follow.”
Naími bowed, and Soromeh muttered something vaguely affirmative. The royal trumpets sang again. The king and his following entered the throne room to a thunder of applause. The door closed behind them, attenuating the noise.
Soromeh sprawled on the couch. “Stand straight. All this,” she waved her hand at Naími, “bowing and fake smiles and courtlike behavior. It doesn’t suit you. So, tell me, what did you really see in the kid’s future?”
“I saw glory and greatness, your majesty.”
“You don’t have to lie to me. I saw your face. You were scared.”
The oracle thought for a moment, frowning.
“Beware your sister’s son, your majesty. His destiny is divided. He could cover Egypt in glory or cover it in death. His life line is drenched in blood. This can mean war victories or tragedies. He will have to choose.”
“You could read all this in a baby’s hand?”
“Some have a destiny carved more deeply than others, like this child.”
Soromeh showed her palm. “What about me? You never read my future.”
Naími took the smaller hand between hers and traced the life line with a nail. She stopped when it broke.
“I can’t read your future, your majesty,” she said with a touch of humility. “You were supposed to die in the desert. My intervention changed your destiny.”
Soromeh blinked. “Oh? Is there no way to know what will happen to me?”
“Not even the stars can predict what awaits you.”
The trumpets sang again.
“Well, I can predict it,” grumbled Soromeh, standing up. “It’s trouble.”
She took a deep breath, removed any expression from her face, and entered the throne room.
She was greeted with louder cheers and applause than even the king had gotten. Sethy was standing next to the throne, extending a hand.
She walked toward
s him and grabbed it, biting back her feelings of anger. He did the same with Damon’s hand and joined them both in front of him. The cheering and the trumpets grew loud enough to shake the walls.
Soromeh bit her lower lip. She didn’t listen to the king’s speech, the high priest’s blessings, or Naími’s official predictions. Damon had to say some words, but Soromeh only needed to be present and smile in happiness.
The Celestial Conspiracies Page 15
