The Celestial Conspiracies

by Talhi Briones

  “If you don’t know, you can’t warn my guards. Out.”

  She shoved him. He hovered for a moment, distraught. Then he turned and flew towards the city once again.

  Naími went back to the bed, thought, and made a decision. With her dagger, she cut her palm open and brought the blood to Damon’s lips.

  “I’m mostly human. I don’t have much energy to give,” she muttered in apology. “But it should be enough for now.”

  The vizier swallowed and blinked. His eyes focused on her.

  “...Lady Naími? What… They’re looking for you! You and… Wait. The pain is gone. How—”

  He touched his abdomen and saw that the stab wound was now a pale scar, almost completely healed. He undid his wooden splint and found that his arm was the same.

  Naími smiled. “I healed you, my love. Please forgive me. My assassin was told to kill the king and spare you. It doesn’t matter anymore. He paid for his mistake.”

  He stood up with difficulty, looking at her in horror.

  She continued. “I couldn’t get rid of your lover, but your wife will soon be out of my way.”

  He grabbed her by the neck and slammed her against the wall.

  “What have you done, snake?”

  “I wanted to free you, my love!” she gasped. “With them gone, we can be happy, you and I, and reign over the kingdom!”

  He barely stopped himself from strangling her.

  She went on. “Do you hear them? They came to witness her execution!”

  He noticed the sounds of a massive crowd, outside.

  She laughed. “Her head is about to roll on the floor, for everyone to see!”

  He grabbed her by the hair and marched out of the room.

  * * *

  The trumpets stopped the crowd’s chatter. The soldiers of the esplanade stood at attention. Servants brought a golden chair for the king and, in clear sight, a heavy stone. A soldier, his face veiled, waited nearby, the blade of his axe shining under the midday sun.

  The king sat and ordered the start of the proceedings. Two guards brought Soromeh. She was dressed in a rough canvas tunic, her hair falling messily over her shoulders. Her eyes were unfocused and her steps awkward.

  Pamiu stood at the right of the king and read the accusations. “...condemned to be forgotten forever. Her body will be thrown in a communal grave without sacred rites. Her name will be erased from the royal line and from past and future writings.”

  He stepped away. The drums started a slow and regular beat.

  The soldiers brought Soromeh forward. She stumbled and was pushed to her knees, her hands tied behind her back. The drums accelerated.

  A soldier placed her head on the stone. He pushed her hair away, almost delicately.

  The executioner approached.

  The king raised a hand to give the final order.

  A man appeared at the palace entrance, and the crowd cried in relief. The vizier stepped out, wearing a simple skirt, resplendent in his anger. He was pulling a woman by the hair and threw her at the king’s feet.

  “Your majesty!” he shouted. “Soromeh is innocent! Here’s the one who plotted against you!”

  The king gestured to the executioner to step back.

  Damon went on. “Here’s the oracle Naími, the same you had imprisoned for desertion. She confessed her crime. She paid Soromeh’s servant so the fault would fall on my wife!”

  The king hesitated. He frowned, his eyes going from Damon to Soromeh, a quick glance at Pamiu, and back to Soromeh. Naími knew she had to act before the master scribe could get a better grasp on the king’s mind.

  She felt a moment of sublime clarity, where all possibilities converged on a single point. She smiled.

  In a howl of rage, she jumped towards the king, dagger held theatrically high. Damon and three soldiers threw themselves at her. Stuck between them, she laughed madly.

  “The throne will be mine! Sir Damon will marry me, and we will reign together over Egypt until the end of time!”

  The soldiers made her kneel in front of the king. Damon looked at her in disgust.

  “Your majesty?” he asked.

  “Release the vizier’s wife,” ordered the king. “Take the execution documents and replace Soromeh’s name with the one of Naími, oracle of the royal family, guilty of desertion, escape, plotting against the crown, and assassination attempt on the king.”

  “Your verdict, your highness?” asked Pamiu, noting everything.

  “Immediate execution.”

  Naími let herself be carried away, making a show of fighting back.

  They took Soromeh from the stone. Naími tried to catch her eye, but the princess couldn’t keep her head upright. The guards threw Soromeh into Damon’s arms.

  Naími kneeled in front of the stone and placed her head on it voluntarily. All the paths led to this moment; all the possibilities went through her death. She clenched her jaw, closed her eyes, and tried to swallow her fear.

  The king raised a hand. The executioner brandished his axe.

  “Naími!” yelled a voice.

  She opened her eyes, saw Dewei flying towards her, his wings so white against the blue of the sky. She had a moment of regret—

  The axe went down. Naími’s head rolled on the floor.

  The crowd cheered. No one saw an angel crash on the esplanade steps, howling in grief.

  * * *

  The execution was quickly wrapped up, Naími’s head and body carried away. Damon brought Soromeh inside, the king left without a word, and the soldiers dispersed the crowd.

  Dewei remained on the steps, wings curled around him, face hidden in his hands. Harouk and Silas stood at his sides in silence.

  The crowd left. Hermes approached, his steps soft.

  “I— I’m so sorry,” he breathed. “I didn’t know what… She insisted—”

  “Don’t,” snapped Harouk. “We don’t want to hear from you.”

  Silas let out a deep, sad sigh. “This shouldn’t have happened. The mission—”

  “She’s dead!” yelled Dewei, getting back on his feet.

  “Her life is not worth more than thousands of others,” said Silas. “This is also true for the princess’s life. Naími chose her over her mission, and because of that, the throne of Egypt will execute—”

  Harouk stopped him with a glare. He placed a hand on Dewei’s shoulder.

  “Come on, think. She’s immortal, which means she’s not dead. She’s just… hard to reach.”

  This seemed to give Dewei some hope. He stretched his wings.

  Silas frowned. “We still have to get back to our kingdom. We have to tell the Archangels about the failure of the plan.”

  “We’ll go,” said Dewei. “Then I’ll go look for Naími.”

  He flew away. Hermes, who had been watching in silence, couldn’t contain himself. “Is he insane? She’s probably in Limbo! You don’t come back from Limbo!”

  The other two angels left without answering. Hermes watched them fly, higher and higher, until they left his sight.

  * * *

  The council meeting had to be pushed back into the afternoon. The events of the morning and the king’s closed expression made everyone feel nervous and unsteady. When the last councilman finally arrived, the king ordered the doors to be closed.

  One of them raised a timid hand. “Aren’t we waiting for Vizier Damon?”

  “He must be with his wife,” said the king. “We’re already behind schedule. I want to have this discussion as soon as possible. I gave you all specific tasks. Master Scribe?”

  Pamiu searched the pile of scrolls in front of him and handed one to the king.

  “You were right to follow your instincts, your highness. There truly is a direct link between the growing number of foreigners and a rise in criminal acts. Based on the judiciary records, most criminals weren’t born in Egypt. We are counting Maures and Phoenicians, but mostly, and by a large margin, Hebrews. His majesty your father had ordered
for more patrols in their neighborhoods, but it wasn’t enough.”

  The king read the numbers and nodded.

  “Tell me about the harvest.”

  “The predictions are worrying, your highness. The measurements taken during the last century indicate that the Nile levels drop every year, and they won’t rise for at least another decade. Egyptians usually have two or three children per family, which is considered normal. But if we add the foreigners and their high natality rates, we will have a massive famine during the next generation.”

  “You mentioned the foreigners' natality rates. Which group has the highest?”

  “The Hebrews again, your highness. They can have from five to ten children per family, but we need to wait at least a dozen years before they can contribute to society. Most Hebrew men end up working on our construction sites.”

  The king turned to the master architect. “Enirto, tell me about the projects planned for the next generation.”

  “Well, your highness, there is the temple of Amon that still needs to be worked on for a reign or two. And your tomb, of course. We have wonderful designs for—”

  “I want numbers, Enirto.”

  “Yes, of course, your highness. If I believe the documents Master Pamiu gave me, we will soon have too many workers for what is needed. Of course, we could lower their salaries, but unless we start another great project, like a new temple or a new wing for the palace… We could also send some to the granite quarries to dig for a new obelisk, if you wish so.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind. Accountant, how are the kingdom’s finances?”

  The tiny chief of accounting opened his mouth to start a long tirade but was interrupted by the doors bursting wide open. Damon, who was still only wearing a skirt, marched up to the king, his expression furious. The guards from the door entered with him, looking wary.

  “Damon, this outfit is unacceptable,” said the king. “Go change into something appropriate and come back immediately. This meeting is of the highest importance.”

  “My outfit?” shouted Damon. “You almost had Soromeh executed, and you’re complaining about my clothes?”

  The Pharaoh frowned. The guards stepped closer, at the ready.

  “She was accused of plotting to murder the king,” said Sethy in a cold voice. “She may be your wife, but that doesn’t exempt her from the law.”

  “My wife? She’s your sister!”

  The king gestured, and the soldiers grabbed Damon.

  “Are you going to decapitate me too?”

  “You’ll be confined to your quarters until you start making sense again.”

  “Making sense? I’ll tell you what makes no sense! You! The power went to your head, and you see enemies everywhere! You’re not the king for whom I conquered a city!”

  “You’re not the man who swore loyalty to his king,” he said, calmly. “I remove you from your position of vizier until you prove to be worthy of it. Men, bring him to his quarters and guard the door.”

  Hearing this, Damon stopped fighting. He just stared sadly and let himself be escorted out. Once the door was closed again, the king turned back to his council.

  “I will not hesitate in taking back titles and prestige from anyone disloyal to the crown of Egypt.”

  One by one, the councilmen nodded.

  “Good. Let’s continue.”

  The meeting stretched until the evening. Each member of the council reported their findings and worrying conclusions. The king’s eyes became darker with each passing hour. After talking with Debeheni and Senedjet, he stood up.

  “Members of the council, your information forces me to make a serious decision. Based on what you told me, it’s evident that the Hebrew people living in the capital are a threat to the wellbeing and prosperity of our people. Our usual policy welcomes foreign workers, but it can’t be to the detriment of real Egyptians. It is imperative that we stop their expansion, at least for a generation, to avoid a generalized famine.”

  The sun set over the horizon, painting the room in tones of red. The king was back to the windows, his face plunged in shadow, his eyes hard as granite.

  “For these reasons, I am establishing a new law that aims to control the births. From this day, every male child, younger than two years of age, born of a Hebrew father, shall be killed and thrown to the river. The midwives will be ordered to report every newborn. The city police will search every house. No exception will be allowed.”

  Master Pamiu finished writing the new law, and the king pressed his seal.

  “My word is law,” concluded the king.

  * * *

  Hermes went back to the palace, his mood somber. He had left Aïden in Naími’s quarters but didn’t have the strength to go back yet. He went to the royal wing, looking for Soromeh, but found the way blocked by a group of soldiers in front of the vizier’s chambers. They were simultaneously trying to reason with him and keep him inside. Damon was livid.

  “How could you let her escape? I left her here, half unconscious!”

  He tried to leave again but was stopped. “Sir, as I keep telling you, you’re not allowed to leave, order of the king.”

  “My wife almost lost her head because of him! And now we don’t know where she is!”

  “We will launch the usual search teams, but you have to calm down.”

  Hermes let Damon exhaust himself and kept walking until he reached Soromeh’s quarters. He saw no guard, and the main door was unlocked. He entered and remembered to make himself visible to humans.

  “Little princess?” he called.

  Someone in the servant’s bedroom started banging against the closed door, hard enough to make it shake.

  “Let me out! Please, open the door!”

  Hermes unlatched the lock, and the door slammed on his face. Iram burst out. He was covered in bruises, and his hands were bleeding.

  “Soromeh!” he asked, his voice hoarse. “Where is she? They grabbed her this morning. They locked me up. No one told me anything, I heard the trumpets—”

  “She’s fine,” cut in Hermes. “She’s alive. Sir Damon managed to stop her execution.”

  “Execution?”

  “Calm down, kid! She’s safe and sound. Mostly.”

  He summarized the events of the morning. Iram had to sit down.

  “She must be devastated,” he muttered. “We can’t leave her alone. Please, help me get in the vizier’s quarters.”

  Hermes winced. “She’s not in there. Last I heard, she had escaped.”

  Iram glared at him and strode out of the room. Hermes followed, ashamed.

  “I know. I should have told you sooner, but I was waiting for you to calm down! You wouldn’t have made it three steps down the hallways before being stopped. Do you even know where to look?”

  “I hope.”

  They went to the royal gardens, deserted after the end of the day. They looked in every tree and every bush. The first stars were slowly appearing in the night sky when Hermes spotted something pale in the foliage.

  Soromeh had fallen asleep among the roots of a great sycamore. There were tracks of tears on her face, and her hair was tangled in the surrounding bushes. Her naked feet were dirty, and her fingers were covered in dirt and blood.

  Iram knelt next to her, his heart broken, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She woke up, startled. When she saw Iram, she fell into his arms and started crying again.

  Hermes sat on a rock, nearby, to watch over them.

  Now a man of the tribe of Levi married a Levite woman, and she became pregnant and gave birth to a son. When she saw that he was a fine child, she hid him for three months. But when she could hide him no longer, she got a papyrus basket for him and coated it with tar and pitch. Then she placed the child in it and put it among the reeds along the bank of the Nile. His sister stood at a distance to see what would happen to him.

  Then Pharaoh’s daughter went down to the Nile to bathe, and her attendants were walking along the riverbank. She saw
the basket among the reeds and sent her female slave to get it. She opened it and saw the baby. He was crying, and she felt sorry for him. “This is one of the Hebrew babies,” she said.

  Then his sister asked Pharaoh’s daughter, “Shall I go and get one of the Hebrew women to nurse the baby for you?”