Aïden stared, suspicious. “What are you doing?”
“I have a deal for you. Bastet abandoned us both. I get a broken heart, and you’re left defenseless in this horrible world full of sunlight and Celestials stronger than you.”
“She’ll come back.”
“They never come back, my dear. Not after they tire of you.”
He turned to his side and brought their faces closer. She bared her fangs.
“I offer you my protection,” he said. “For a whole year.”
“What do you want in exchange?”
“The basics. Servitude, loyalty. Information.”
Aïden thought. “What kind of information?”
“What do you know about all that scheming and plotting that’s been going on between the angels and the Netcheroos?”
She rolled her eyes.
“I know plenty. The jackal and the others, they’re always talking. They forget that I’m in the next room. If I tell you what they say, you will protect me?”
“I give you my word.”
Aïden narrowed her eyes once more and started talking.
* * *
Soromeh was startled awake by a noise coming from outside. She took a moment to understand her surroundings and longer to remember what had happened the previous day. She was alone, spread-eagle on a pile of twisted sheets. Damon would have pushed her aside to get back half of his own bed. It was obvious he did not come back at all.
She crawled to the table and winced at seeing the state of the feast. The meat was ruined, the breads were hard, and the cut fruits were covered in insects. She decided to come back to her own quarters for the morning meal. She would have to walk the palace hallways in her indecent clothes, but with some luck, most people would still be hungover.
She opened the main door and yelped in surprise. Two dozen people were waiting in the corridor.
“Does her highness wish us to bring her the morning meal?” asked a servant.
“No,” blurted Soromeh. “I’m going back to my own place.”
She closed behind her and passed by a group of court women. They were the same ones that had seen her walk in the prior evening. Soromeh grew tired of their looks of pity and badly hidden mockery.
“You’re early to rise, ladies,” she sneered. “Or did you simply spend the night on the floor?”
Some lowered their eyes, but others did not. Soromeh kept walking and ignored their whispers. She entered her own quarters and slammed the door.
“Bunch of headless geese! May Apophis eat their guts!” she yelled at the empty room. “I won’t be known as the daughter of the king, but as the idiot who got ignored by her husband on her wedding night because he had better things to do elsewhere!”
Iram burst from the servant’s bedroom. “Your majesty! Thank the Lord you’re back. Onamu is seriously ill!”
Master Kamuzu was there, making Onamu drink the contents of a gourd. Onamu gagged and tried to spit it back, but the physician forced him to drink every last drop.
“Master Kamuzu, what’s wrong with him?” asked Soromeh.
The physician looked unhappy. “Strong fever, stomach ache, delirium, and exhaustion. Has he been bitten by an animal or an insect, recently?”
“Not that I know. He suffered from the sun a couple of days ago, but he was getting better.”
“That’s not the sun. Even though it’s not the season, everything suggests he was bitten by a death-carrying mosquito.”
“What? No! That’s impossible. We don’t have those at the palace! People make sure the gardens are safe!”
“All of the world's efforts can’t completely eliminate these things. I’ll demand that they change the water from the pools so they stop multiplying. It’s good that we found this before anyone important was bitten.”
He bagged his tools and left the room, followed by Soromeh.
“Where are you going? What did you give Onamu?”
“Water, with some herbs to ease his pain. He won’t suffer.”
“And then? What’s going to happen?”
“What else do you want, your majesty?” he sighed. “I’m really sorry for your little companion, but these things are unforgiving. If I were you, I would go back to his bedside for his last moments.”
“There must be something you can do! You’re the best physician in Egypt. They say you can cure a person by cutting their head open to remove the evil! There must be something to cure this—a potion, an herb, a treatment?”
Kamuzu walked faster, elbowing people in the hallway. Soromeh placed herself in his path, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
“There is a remedy. I see it in your face!”
“It’s nothing miraculous, your majesty,” he said in a bad mood. “A simple plant could treat this illness.”
“So what is it? Tell me!”
“Don’t you have any idea how much that plant is worth? It comes from a distant Eastern country and is priced higher than gold. I only have a couple of branches. I’m not going to use them on a slave!”
“I order you to!” she yelled.
“I obey orders older than you are. I have to do everything I can to care for the royal family and only the royal family. I will not sacrifice my meager resources to satisfy your demands, your majesty. You should go sit with the child. He doesn’t have much time left.”
“I will have you thrown in jail!” she howled.
Kamuzu remained unmovable. She yelled insults and, seeing that nothing would change his mind, started running and pushing surprised passersby out of her way. She left the royal wing to reach Naími’s quarters and hammered on the door, calling her name.
Hermes opened. Soromeh yelped in fear.
“Little princess?” said the Olympian. “What’s going on?”
Soromeh gathered her courage and pushed past him.
“Naími! Is she there?”
“I’m sorry, but no, your highness. She, along with her guard companions, left earlier this morning.”
Soromeh went into the oracle’s room and opened many chests. She stopped in front of one made of wicker and screamed in joy when she saw its contents.
“If I may, why are you looking through Naími’s collection of herbs and remedies?”
“Onamu is ill,” she said. “Bitten by a mosquito. The physician said he’s going to die, but there is a plant that can save him, and that pig refuses to use it!”
Hermes placed a hand on her shoulder and peered inside the box.
“Calm down, little princess. You don’t know the plant or its name. You can’t even read those tags. Allow me.”
He perused everything, frowning, and then sighed deeply.
“I know these remedies, but nothing here can cure the mosquito illness, your highness. I’m really sorry for your—”
“You! Aren’t you one of them? You have powers—can’t you heal him?”
He looked sad. “No. We have a law, one that all Celestials have to follow. We are not allowed to intervene in human lives that way. We don’t stop death.”
Soromeh got up and gathered her skirt. “Naími did it, once,” she said and rushed out.
She exited the palace and ran barefoot through the gardens until she reached the docks. The royal ship, along with most of the fleet, had already left. There was only one remaining and a handful of dignitaries waiting to embark. Naími and Dewei were further away, talking in hushed tones.
Everyone was surprised to see the princess run up, wearing a thin nightgown, her hair a mess and feet covered in mud.
“Naími!” she yelled. “Onamu is sick. He’s going to die, and no one can heal him. You need to come!”
She pulled her by the arm. Naími followed without thinking, then stopped and looked back at the ship.
Soromeh pulled harder. “What are you doing? Hurry!”
“Your majesty, I don’t have time. I need to embark.”
“Or don’t! Stay at the palace—it’s an order!”
“I h
ave to obey the king. If I don’t go, I’d be deserting. I’ll be disgraced.”
The captain called. They were waiting for Naími and Dewei.
“Are you telling me that your place at the palace is more important than Onamu’s life?” shrieked the princess.
“Your majesty, I’m sure it’s not that serious—”
“I’m not making anything up! He—”
“Soromeh, I have to leave. I’m sorry.”
She took her arm back and climbed aboard, followed by Dewei.
Soromeh stayed on the dock, getting her breath back, thinking. She started running again, having found no other solution.
Back in her quarters, she saw Barak standing in the balcony archway. He lowered his eyes at her entrance. She went to the servants’ bedroom, her insides in knots.
“Iram?” she called, scared.
“He’s not well,” he said, dabbing Onamu’s brow. “He’s not in pain, but he can’t move his left side. He has trouble breathing. Did Master Kamuzu find a remedy?”
She tried to answer but couldn’t find the words to explain being turned down by the healer, her tutor, and Naími. She shook her head, tears in her eyes. There was nothing else to try; she could only sit with him and wait. So she did.
She placed a hand on his red hair. “I was going to adopt you,” she whispered. “So that you would never have to fear the city soldiers or have to steal to survive. You would never have to sleep in a locked room. You would never have to go hungry again.”
Onamu’s breathing was slow and laborious. His half-opened eyes stared at nothing. Soromeh kept talking, trying to pull him back from death with promises. She talked until Onamu stopped breathing. She talked until she could only cry.
* * *
The afternoon sun was starting its descent. The partygoers had slowly crawled from their beds to go lounge in the gardens. Their voices could be heard from the second-level balconies, where Soromeh tried to ignore them.
Other voices came from inside her quarters. Iram was talking with Pa-Heb, captain of her close guard.
“Give my condolences to her majesty,” said the soldier. “And tell her that such a security breach won’t happen again. Vizier Damon’s guards should have escorted her instead of letting her run everywhere with no supervision.”
“The new guys should have been at their post,” added the voice of the guard Ookami. “We found them this morning, sleeping on the dirt near the soldiers’ barracks. They were still drunk!”
“They will be punished,” said Pa-Heb. “Ookami will stay at the door, and I’ll send our usual men to join him. Tell the princess she doesn’t have to worry about the kid. I’ll go fetch the royal embalmer myself. Your friend will have a proper burial.”
“Thank you, Captain Pa-Heb,” said Iram, his voice sad. “Her majesty probably won’t be able to supervise Onamu’s funeral process herself.”
Soromeh covered her ears. She stayed like this for a very long time, curled up, jaw clenched and eyes closed.
When she stopped shaking, she noticed that she wasn’t alone anymore. Hermes was standing on the railing. He was wearing winged sandals and holding a hat similarly decorated. There was a silvery glow coming from him. Soromeh thought about asking but found she was not curious about anything, anymore.
“Little princess,” he greeted, awkwardly. “I—I wanted to tell you how sorry I was that I couldn’t—”
“No,” she said, her voice empty. “Your excuses are of no use to me.”
He hesitated, looking at a spot near Soromeh. He started to say something, then stopped.
“If you have nothing to say, leave me,” she said.
“He’s still here,” he blurted. “His soul. Standing near you.”
She turned her head, incredulous. She could only see the potted plants lining the terrace.
“He shines like the summer moon,” said Hermes. “He’s wearing his usual tunic and the bracelet, the one with your name. He’s looking at you.”
“Why is he still here?” she whispered, grabbing the arms of her chair. “Doesn’t he have to go… elsewhere?”
Hermes looked down, at the gardens. “There’s a dog made of smoke that seems to be waiting for him. It’s part of Anubis’s pack. They bring the Egyptians to their last trial.”
“Onamu,” she cried, “you can’t stay.”
A moment.
“He’s still there,” said Hermes.
“Go,” she hiccupped. “There are better things waiting for you, better than anything you’ve ever seen in your life! You’ll see. The feasts are infinite, and the gardens are even more beautiful than ours… You like the fish from the fountains, right? Over there, the fish have brighter colors!”
“I think he’s worried for you, your highness.”
Soromeh covered her mouth and stifled a scream of distress. She tried to stop her tears, her shoulders and back shaking from the effort.
Then she took a deep breath and managed to calm down. She sat up and looked at a point near the soul, her eyes red.
“I’m not alone,” she whispered. “I have Iram. And Barak. I am married to Damon. He’ll take care of me. I have Naími. She’ll come back from the war. I have Kamilah and my guards.”
She tightened her fists and started speaking faster, to win the race against the tears that would start flowing again.
“Everything will be all right, Onamu. Nothing bad can happen to me. You can leave in peace.”
Hermes was the only one to see, but the soul seemed content. It turned and jumped from the balcony to join the spectral dog that was waiting.
“He left,” said Hermes.
“Cicero, please, can you make sure he gets… wherever he has to go?”
“Of course, little princess.”
He jumped too and followed the soul and its guide. On the balcony, Soromeh fell to her knees and let the tears come freely.
* * *
“That’s sand. Just sand. I don’t see why we’re stopping here since there’s absolutely nothing besides sand.”
Hermes stood there, hands on hips, staring at the horizon. Next to him, Onamu’s soul watched. The spectral dog laid down to wait. The desert stretched in every direction.
“Nothing, nothing at all,” muttered Hermes to himself. “But the dog and the kid can see something. That means there must be something to see.”
As soon as the idea crossed his mind, the air in front of them shivered. He concentrated, and, suddenly, his vision was filled with vegetation.
He burst out laughing. “A mirage! Oh, those Netcheroos are geniuses! They hide their entire oasis in a mirage that reflects the desert, so as long as you believe in the desert, you can’t find it! And why would someone not think of the desert when it’s omnipresent?”
Onamu’s soul and the spectral guide walked through a path of smooth white stone that twisted between palm trees and flower shrubs. They passed by a large place filled with people and music. Netcheroos lounged under trees, singing and drinking wine. Some of them sat up at the sight of Hermes.
“Hey, kid, can you wait a moment?” he muttered.
Onamu’s soul stopped.
Several furious Netcheroos were approaching. One of them, a woman with ivory horns, pointed a finger at him.
“You! How dare you enter our oasis? Who are you?”
He took off his hat. “My name is Hermes. I am from Olympus, and—”
“He’s my lover!” shouted a voice.
Bastet, in her Netcheroo form, caught up to them and stopped in front of Hermes. He grinned from ear to ear.
“I mean he was my lover,” she corrected with annoyance. “I found him some time ago, and I can’t get rid of him. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you again, oh beautiful pearl of my heart,” he said, going down on one knee. “I can’t stand the solitude since you left. My nights are endless torture without your warmth in my bed. I accomplished miracles to find you again, my dove, hoping that you would give me anoth
er chance.”
In the background, a goddess scoffed.
“Get rid of him!” said another.
“When you’re done with him, can you send him my way?” shouted a third one.
The Celestial Conspiracies Page 20
