The Celestial Conspiracies

by Talhi Briones

  “You can’t be sure of that.”

  “I see the future, Dewei! Every night, I dream of the horrible things that await me! All the possibilities appear clearly, and each path leads to my death!”

  “Naími…”

  “I will die,” she said in a tone that allowed no rebuttal. “It’s a fact that I had to accept when I was a child, when I thought I wouldn’t survive my own mother. But you found me, and I had dared to hope…”

  She sighed and stared at the floor.

  “It doesn’t matter. I will fail, I will die, and since I’m not a human, my soul won’t be allowed in the afterlife or even in Hell. I will be lost in Limbo for eternity.”

  “I will find you.”

  “Don’t be naive. Once my human body is dead, your mission will be over, Dewei.”

  “I will find you, silly girl, wherever you are,” he insisted.

  “I know your sense of duty—”

  “I have no sense of duty. I have only guilt, Terathel.”

  “You know I hate it when you call me that.” She frowned. “I have no memory of my past as an angel. I’m not Terathel. I’m only myself.”

  “It’s Terathel I betrayed. It’s you who had to face the consequences.”

  “What—what are you talking about?”

  “I’m the one who betrayed you, who gave your name to the council. Your imprisonment, the suffering you had to go through in this human life—it’s all my fault.”

  She thought for a long moment. “But I’m not suffering, not anymore. What I went through in my childhood wasn’t your fault. On the contrary, you saved me from it. Don’t be foolish, Dewei. You practically raised me. There hasn’t been a scratch or a sunburn that you didn’t heal. You were a better parent than my own parents. If you committed a fault, you paid it back a hundredfold.”

  He laughed bitterly and held her hand.

  “And I will keep paying. You are my friend, my guilt, and my child. I will find you, wherever you are.”

  “Dewei…”

  The door was opened by a sheepish-looking guard. “By royal authority, you are now free,” he said.

  He stepped aside, and Soromeh stood in his place. She was dressed in her best clothes and jewels, even wearing the ibis circlet on her brow. Behind her were Silas, Harouk, and Iram.

  Naími frowned. “Your majesty, what are you doing here?”

  “I’m going against the king’s orders,” she said. “Hurry, you need to leave the palace before someone manages to warn him.”

  “Are you allowed to free prisoners?” asked Dewei.

  “Since my wedding, I am almost as powerful as Kamilah,” she said, a calculating glint in her eye.

  She led the way, her expression thunderous. No guard stopped her.

  The night had fallen quickly. People everywhere were still celebrating the return of the troops. Soromeh covered her head with a fine scarf and walked them to the outer wall. People passed them, singing and laughing, and paid them no attention. At the gate, two sentinels recognized her and moved in her direction, but she stopped them with a gesture.

  Iram handed Naími a canvas bag. It held several of Naími’s things, like a dark nomadic cloak that she immediately put on over her oracle clothes.

  “You look better like that,” said Soromeh. “All right. Leave and try to avoid the patrols.”

  “Your majesty…”

  “I don’t want to get rid of you!” she added in a rush. “I know I forbid you from talking to me, but—you know me. I calmed down. I’m sorry.”

  “If I could’ve saved him—”

  “I know. I know, now. Listen, I’ll talk to my brother and restore your name, give you back your quarters and everything else. Right now, you need to hide.”

  Naími made an awkward gesture in her direction. Soromeh threw herself in her arms and hugged her.

  “I lend you my personal guards,” muttered the princess. “They’re excellent. I never managed to escape their surveillance, not even once.”

  “Please, your majesty, behave.”

  “Never,” she snorted.

  “Goodbye, Soromeh.”

  “Until next time, Naími.”

  The princess watched them leave through the gates and disappear in the city. In the anonymity of darkness, she grabbed Iram’s hand and tried to calm the horrible sensation that clawed at her insides.

  * * *

  Barak sneaked through a familiar path in the gardens. Senedjet, chief of city police, was waiting for him in the darkness of a copse of trees.

  “You’re late,” he accused.

  “Couldn’t help it. The princess took a long time to leave her quarters.”

  “I guess she freed the oracle?”

  “Yes, how do you know?”

  “She’s predictable. This might cause you some problems, kid. She openly defied the king. You’ll see. She’s going to suffer some consequences, and you’ll suffer them too.”

  Barak placed a hand on the pocket of his tunic, where he carried a papyrus scroll.

  “I can still leave,” he said. “She promised me freedom and money, if I wanted.”

  “Ha, leave the palace and get eaten by the desert rats. If you manage to escape them, I’ll put a price on your head in every Egyptian city. Your only way out will present itself tomorrow night.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” he asked with fear.

  “Your last mission. Between midnight and sunrise, you will find here a bag of gold, enough to help you live handsomely for the rest of your days. I’ll lower the surveillance on the docks and will leave you a felucca. No one will try to stop you.”

  Barak frowned.

  “That’s a lot.”

  “Money and freedom have to be earned, kid. Tomorrow night, I want you to get into the king’s chambers and stab him in the heart.”

  Chapter 16

  Royalty and Criminals

  The morning was interrupted by the palace trumpets. Nobles and workers alike filled the palace room. To everyone’s surprise, Princess Soromeh was among the crowd, at the bottom of the stairs, instead of her usual place next to the throne. She was wearing a simple dress and not a single ornament.

  The door next to the throne opened, and the king entered alone, without his usual fanfare. Vizier Damon was glaringly absent.

  “People of Egypt!” shouted the king. “I have an announcement. Soromeh, come forward.”

  She left the crowd and climbed the first three steps, then stopped. There was a moment of general stupefaction. Only commoners stood so low on the stairs.

  When the king spoke, his voice was devoid of any warmth. “Soromeh, you are the daughter of my father and of my mother. You were born princess of Egypt and, as a member of the royal family, you hold a certain amount of power. But yesterday, you forgot your place and opposed my will. You freed prisoners that had been locked under my orders. By doing so, you betrayed your king, your family, and your country. I cannot allow such a dangerous attitude in the royal family. Master Scribe, take note.”

  Pamiu stepped from the crowd and extended a hand until one of his subordinates handed him a clay tablet and stylus.

  “From this day on, I will not recognize Soromeh as my sister, as daughter of my father, or as a member of the royal family.”

  Soromeh gaped.

  Sethy went on. “Her lands, titles, and possessions will go to—”

  “Your majesty!”

  The vizier had burst from a lateral door, wearing a simple tunic and his arm caught in a sling. The crowd opened up as one to let him through. He reached the stairs and placed himself in front of Soromeh.

  “What is the meaning of this interruption?” asked the king.

  “Your majesty, I beg you, please don’t exile my wife!”

  Soromeh and Sethy remembered that detail at the same time. The king’s eyes hardened. Damon, still breathless from running through the entire palace, went on.

  “Your highness, I love Egypt, and I love her king. My blood is you
rs. I shed it in your name and will do so again. My arm holds your shield and strikes your enemies. But I swore before the gods that I would protect my wife until death and beyond. If you chase Soromeh from the palace, I will have to follow her.”

  He took a moment to breathe and implored him.

  “My king, please, don’t force me to have my heart broken!”

  The crowd held a complete silence. The king thought for a moment, then nodded.

  “You plead well your cause, Vizier Damon. As a reward for your many years of service and loyalty to Egypt and the royal family, I will allow you this. Soromeh, her titles, and possessions will go to your name. She will be your responsibility.”

  He turned his eyes to her.

  “May she be worthy of my trust.”

  Damon bowed deeply.

  “’My king, you are fair and good. May the gods bless your descendants.”

  The king gave them their leave and exited the room. Damon grabbed Soromeh’s wrist and left the room before the public, still affected by the show, could interrupt them.

  * * *

  The palace corridors were still empty. Soromeh took her arm back and kept with Damon’s quick stride. Both were livid with anger.

  “You took your time,” she remarked with acidity.

  “Silence!” he ordered.

  “How dare you silence me?”

  “I dare because I have the right. Going against the king’s decisions brings consequences. You lost your beloved freedom, and now you depend entirely on me. What did you do, by the gods?”

  “I freed Naími and her guards.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “A lesser offense could have been forgiven, but releasing people the king publicly sent to jail…”

  “Kamilah makes decisions that go against his will!”

  “Kamilah never defies him in public! You challenged him in front of the entire court. You didn’t give him a choice, you idiot!”

  “Stop insulting me and tell me what we can do.”

  “I will try to get back in his good graces. He must be furious after a spectacle like this. And you, you stay locked in your quarters, and you don’t put a single toe outside without my permission!”

  He opened the door, pushed her inside, and closed it again, despite her yells. Ookami, one of the soldiers on guard, tried to hide his surprise.

  “She doesn’t leave, even if she sets fire to her quarters,” ordered Damon.

  He went to seek the king. He found him in the dining room he often used as a workplace. It was full of people, and the table was covered in papyrus scrolls. Sethy sat at the head, eating and listening to a report of the city police chief. He gestured towards Damon, telling him to wait. The Vizier bowed and went to stand next to the wall, ignoring the bemused stares of the other council members.

  Sethy finished his conversation with Senedjet before allowing Damon closer.

  “Keep me informed,” said the king to Senedjet. “I don’t want our capital to become a haven for criminals. Seek Pamiu. Tell him that I want the archives regarding the census and arrests.”

  Once Senedjet was gone, Damon bowed very low, his expression humbled.

  “Your majesty, I wanted to thank you once more for letting me stay at the palace.”

  Sethy motioned him closer. Damon, instead of taking his usual seat, kneeled in front of him. From the other end of the room, the other council members were staring avidly.

  “What are you doing?” muttered the king.

  “I could ask you the same,” said Damon through a fake adoring smile. “You just disowned Soromeh. If I hadn’t been able to escape from the healers in time, you would have thrown her out of the palace!”

  “Couldn’t this discussion wait until tonight?”

  “I thought you wanted to spend another night with the Hittite princess you brought back from the front?”

  Damon was still smiling, but his hand was closed in a fist.

  “Listen, Damon, I had to disown Soromeh for her own protection. Going against the will of the crown is unacceptable. She could start an internal war. She doesn’t know how to use her power carefully, like Kamilah does. After such a display, she would have become the target of every plot.”

  “If I hadn’t intervened, would you have thrown her out?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Damon lowered his head to hide his doubts.

  “What’s going to happen, now?” he whispered.

  “She remains in the palace, her belongings go to you, and she’s now protected from the council and other scheming nobles.”

  Facing Damon’s silence, he sighed discreetly.

  “Come to my quarters this evening. We’ll talk, then.”

  “What about the Hittite princess?”

  “She’ll have enough to tell the other harem women, and those rumors will allow us some peace. Come to my bed tonight, Damon.”

  “I am wounded, and you are too.”

  “I care not.”

  Damon bowed to respectfully kiss the king’s hands.

  * * *

  Iram watched the chaos from his bedroom door. A parade of servants had invaded Soromeh’s quarters and removed her possessions. Vases, furniture, statues, perfumes, gifts from foreign lands—everything left through the main door. Soromeh was coordinating everything.

  “Don’t forget the jewelry in my room,” she shouted.

  Iram approached carefully. “Your majesty,” he muttered. “I know that your possessions now belong to Sir Damon, but I doubt he’d want to literally take them from your hands.”

  “I refuse to keep the tiniest lapis lazuli bead. If the throne doesn’t want me, I don’t want anything from the throne!”

  She turned over a chest of clothes. In the pile of fine fabric were some dark and coarse garments. She took them and kicked her ceremonial dresses.

  “Take them. Burn them if you want. Even better, give them to a woman of the court, any woman, so I can watch the others die of envy!”

  She bit her lower lip. Faced with Iram’s inquisitive look, she smiled.

  “Misha would have known who to pick. You know, I haven’t thought of her in days. I haven’t thought about Onamu since this morning.”

  She caught the servants’ attention. “Just leave with what you already have. Put it in my husband's storage rooms. We’ll continue this another day.”

  Soromeh closed the doors behind them and turned to look better at her quarters. There were only a few pieces of furniture left and some vases too heavy to move. Iram held out a hand.

  “Where is Barak?” she asked.

  “Asleep on the balcony.”

  She took three steps and held him tight. He buried his nose in her hair.

  “Iram, I don’t know what to do anymore,” she muttered against his tunic.

  “No matter what you choose, I’ll be there at your side.”

  “If I decide to leave, would you set fire to the palace again, for me?”

  “Let me fetch a torch.”

  “I’m only half-joking,” she sighed. “Misha and Onamu are dead, Naími is gone, I am dishonored and disowned by my brother, and my marriage is only a façade.”

  She lifted her head suddenly. “If we leave, I wouldn’t be Damon’s wife. I’m not a princess anymore. I’m no one. We could…”

  Iram’s eyes were huge, his breath short.

  “Is that—really? This is what you want?”

  Instead of answering, she kissed him.

  “We need to find transportation,” he said between two kisses.

  “A boat. I want to get away from here as fast as I can. Let’s get to the delta and decide from there.”

  “Yes. We’ll need—”

  “Huh,” said a new voice.

  Soromeh and Iram jumped apart, their faces red. Barak was standing in the balcony archway.

  “I, huh, I came to get some water,” grumbled Barak. “The sun is hard. Don’t mind me. I’ll be right out.”

  “Barak—” s
tarted Soromeh, her voice unnaturally high.