The Celestial Conspiracies

by Talhi Briones

  Sethy remained silent.

  “We will bring her back to the palace,” said Pamiu. “The Hebrew won’t touch her anymore. We will erase all traces of this transgression.”

  Sethy seemed to hesitate. Pamiu frowned and upped the ante. He faced him, to get a full visual contact, and squeezed his hand to the point of pain.

  “Sethy, son of Ramses,” he said, making sure to get through the king. “Follow my words, and Damon will come back to you. He shall never leave your side again.”

  The king nodded. Pamiu sighed in relief and released him. The king blinked, disoriented, and went to oversee the preparations.

  “Behemoth!” boomed a voice, startling the scribe. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Pamiu turned to find Set, the Netcheroo, approaching with thunderous steps. The smell of blood was so strong, Pamiu couldn’t hide a grimace.

  “My clan has been celebrating your victory for days, and here I find you, about to embark on the Nile with the king! In this weather!”

  “It’s nothing to worry about. Everything is working marvellously. Most Hebrew children are already dead.”

  “Most? We need them all dead! Any of them could be the prophet! Tell me, Pamiu, who has escaped you?”

  “...The sister of the king. She bears the child of a Hebrew man.”

  The Netcheroo caught him by the front of his tunic. Pamiu had to stop from gagging at the smell of blood.

  “Listen carefully, demon. If a single child escapes, your contract is void. You won’t get the protection of my clan. In fact, I’ll hand you over to the king of Hell myself!”

  “Stop spitting in my face,” said Pamiu, pulling away. “And don’t underestimate me. I will catch the princess and put an end to this situation, even if I have to make her brother kill her with his bare hands.”

  He turned away from the Netcheroo and climbed aboard the ship, at the right of the king.

  * * *

  The small Hebrew house was full and the air stifling. Soromeh and Iram had gone inside to wait for Damon’s return. Amram was at the window, watching the empty street, and the children waited on the straw pallet, anxious and silent. Yocheved was changing her youngest son, filling the air with recommendations.

  “Yours is going to cry, the first days,” she told Soromeh and Iram. “It’s normal. Mine have all done that. It’ll take a long time before it can sleep the whole night, though. You’ll have to wake up constantly. Your highness, you should put your milk in a gourd and have your young man feed the child when you can. You’ll need all the sleep you can get. That’s how Amram and I did it. Now, about the teeth—”

  “Yocheved!” said Soromeh, raising her hands in supplication. “You already told us all of that! I even took notes!”

  “I know, your highness, but I need to ask—”

  Two knocks at the door. Damon passed his head inside.

  “Soromeh, Iram, we need to leave. There’s a sandstorm approaching. The Nile will be empty. We need to be on the water before it lands.”

  “Yocheved, we’re grateful for your hospitality,” said Soromeh. “If I could do anything to repay you—”

  “Yes, you can, your highness.”

  Yocheved grabbed a woven basket and placed it on the table, next to the child.

  “I use it to go to the market,” she explained hurriedly. “It’s solid. I carried Aaron inside for a year. The straps should hold.”

  “...Yocheved?”

  “It’s waterproof, I sealed it with tar. So, since you’re taking the river, if something happened… He would be safe.”

  She stopped a sob and took her child, held him close, breathed his smell.

  “I have to stay with Aaron and Miriam,” she whispered. “But I want him to live. Your majesty, you are my last hope. Please, save my son.”

  Soromeh swallowed.

  “That’s not a good idea…” started Damon.

  “I beg you,” said Yocheved. “As a mother to another.”

  Soromeh felt Iram’s hand in hers.

  “All right, all right,” she said, hurriedly. “I—all right.”

  Yocheved kissed the child one last time, swaddled him, and placed him in the basket. She closed the cover and tied the straps.

  “I mixed a few drops of wine in his milk,” she said, passing the leather strap over Soromeh’s head. “He should fall asleep.”

  “As long as he doesn’t cry near a patrol,” said Damon. “Soromeh, we need to leave, now.”

  Yocheved swallowed back her tears and hugged Soromeh and Iram. Before Amram could do the same, Damon pulled them both outside. They entered a narrow alleyway.

  “Soromeh, of all the ludicrous ideas—” started Damon, angrily.

  “Don’t pretend you could have refused.”

  “...No. Of course not. But we’ll have to be twice as careful. The troops are also looking for women hiding kids.”

  They walked a bit further, and he sighed. “By the way, congratulations on your first son.”

  Hermes appeared right in front of them. Damon walked straight into him, but the Olympian held him upright.

  “Did I hear that right? The little princess is starting a collection, now! If you keep at it, you’ll have an army before the next flood!”

  “Sir Hermes,” said Damon, “can you tell us if there are patrols around?”

  Hermes winced. “I can’t tell you anything. My laws are clear on that.”

  “We know. You can’t intervene,” cut in Soromeh. “If you can help, do it, and if you can’t, stop delaying us.”

  Hermes raised a brow, the beginning of a smile dancing on his lips. He looked around and focused on a point over one of the houses.

  “I have something that can help.”

  He placed a hand over Damon’s eyes.

  “What—”

  There was a flash of silver light. Damon stepped back, dazed, and raised his head. He yelled in fear.

  Hermes shushed him. “Don’t be afraid. She doesn’t bite humans. I think. Little princess, your turn.”

  Soromeh felt his hand cover half her face and then a burst of energy. When she opened her eyes, she saw what had scared Damon. There was a creature perched on the roof, a woman with leathery wings, claws, and fangs.

  “Aïden, forgive their manners. They obviously were raised by wild dogs,” said Hermes, doing the same with Iram. “There, it’s done. No Celestial will be invisible to you. Well, I say invisible, but it’s more of a trick of the mind. Humans are so easily distracted that you only need to influence them a bit, and suddenly, anything else is more interesting. Until this moment, I let you see my true form, but from now on, no Celestial will be able to hide from you, no matter their clan. If you see one, call me.”

  He stopped babbling and shrugged, looking truly sorry.

  “That’s all I can do to help. I wish you good luck and good winds.”

  He raised his hat at them and flew off.

  “We’re alone, now,” said Damon.

  “I have never needed the help of a god to escape from guards,” said Soromeh, taking the lead.

  They took many twists and turns to avoid the patrols, until they reached the limits of the Hebrew neighborhood, near the Nile. Hiding in the shadows, between two houses, they searched the riverbank.

  There was a great amount of confusion. Fishermen and transporters were fighting to get good spots to tie their boats, while soldiers tried to keep order.

  “Our felucca is over there,” said Iram. “The owner left us the sail, the oars, and the fishing net.”

  “Someone is tying theirs in front of it!” whispered Soromeh furiously. “Look, you got more of them incoming! We’re going to be stuck!”

  “The guards aren’t looking. We need to go,” said Damon, hiding his hair.

  They left their cover and walked briskly towards the bank. There was only a short way to go when a soldier called for them.

  “Oi, you there, there’s a storm coming! Get inside!”

  “Don
’t stop,” muttered Damon. “Soromeh, you undo the moors. Iram, the sail.”

  They accelerated. The soldier gestured to his troop.

  “You three, get over here and show me what you’re carrying in that basket!”

  Soromeh started running. The guard sounded the alert.

  Soromeh jumped into the felucca closest to the shore, stepped into a second one, and reached the one Iram had bought. It was too late already. A fisherman was tying his boat to theirs, blocking their exit. Without losing momentum, she jumped into that one and slammed into the man, pushing him overboard.

  “Sorry!” she yelled, untying the ropes. “You can have ours!”

  Iram joined her and unfolded the sail. Damon, still on the other felucca, pushed with all his strength to get them disentangled.

  “Damon, behind you!” shouted Soromeh.

  A soldier jumped into Damon’s boat and grabbed him by the tunic. Damon elbowed him in the face. The guard fell off and pulled Damon with him. They both fell into the water with a loud splash. Damon tried to escape, but the guard still had a strong grip on his scarf and was strangling him. He grabbed the guard’s head and smashed it against the boat. As soon as the guard lost his grip, Damon kicked him in the stomach and swam to the surface.

  Soromeh and Iram were quickly gaining speed. He swam after them.

  “Catch!”

  Soromeh threw the fishing net. He pulled himself on board and went to help Iram to gain control of the boat.

  Soromeh took a moment to check on the child. He was sleeping. She muttered a quick prayer and closed the lid again, tying it with the thin leather straps.

  On the bank, the soldier had been fetched out of the water. The others were reluctant to follow.

  At that moment, a gigantic cloud appeared overhead.

  The storm fell upon them.

  * * *

  Sethy grabbed the ship’s railing and covered his face. Further down the river, Soromeh’s felucca disappeared behind a cloud of sand.

  Pamiu pressed a hand on his arm. “Sethy, we need to keep going.”

  Pamiu’s voice, his face, and the paternal feel of his hand were the only clear points in the chaos. Sethy nodded.

  “We keep going!” he ordered.

  The king’s hunting ship was faster than a fishing felucca. They quickly gained on the other boat and could see its shape through the sand. A triangular sail and people on board.

  “She’s right in front of you,” said Pamiu firmly. “Your sister, daughter of your mother and your father, princess of the kingdom of Egypt. Next to her stands the worthless man who dared touch her. He sullied her, and now he’s taking her away from you.”

  Pamiu handed him something. Sethy’s hand closed automatically on the familiar shape of his bow.

  “Kill him.”

  An arrow was placed in his other hand. It was long and heavy, the metal point had jagged teeth like a harpoon. A rope was tied at the other end. A crocodile hunting arrow.

  He aimed at one of the silhouettes, calculated the strength of the wind, and let go.

  There was a yell. He had hit the target.

  “Now, pull,” said Pamiu. “Pull him towards you.”

  Sethy felt the rope in his hand. With a solid tug, his target fell from the boat. There was yelling, but he couldn’t pinpoint their voices. He pulled and pulled again until the body hit the royal ship.

  The captain of the guard came to help, and, together, they pulled the limp body on board. It hit the floor and didn’t move. The arrow was notched deeply into the shoulder. The captain removed it with difficulty, tearing skin and muscle.

  Pamiu removed the wet fabric of the veil. Sethy had no reaction upon seeing the blond hair.

  The captain of the guard stepped back. “Sir Damon! Your highness—”

  “Go to your post,” barked Pamiu. “This is none of your business.”

  The captain looked at the king for confirmation. Sethy nodded brusquely. They were left alone.

  “Sethy, my boy, are you still with me?” asked Pamiu.

  Sethy could only stare at Damon’s unmoving body.

  “I can’t waste more time on this,” groaned the scribe.

  “His hair gets darker when it’s wet,” muttered the king.

  “Sethy!” repeated Pamiu, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Look at me!”

  “...Pamiu,” he asked, his voice weak. “Is he dead? Did I kill him?”

  Pamiu grabbed his jaw, skin on skin, and forced him to look into his eyes.

  “Sethy, son of Ramses!” he barked. “Obey my words! He deserted you. He betrayed you. He deserves to die!”

  Sethy nodded. The storm raged all around him, but Pamiu’s words were stable.

  He lifted Damon’s body, held it against his chest. The gesture was familiar.

  “Princess Soromeh!” howled Pamiu through the wind. “We have Vizier Damon! I will have him beheaded if you don’t come back!”

  The felucca kept going. Pamiu placed a knife in Sethy’s hands.

  “Cut his throat,” he ordered. “If she refuses again, her Hebrew will be next.”

  Sethy grabbed the knife, placed the blade against Damon’s throat. He traced a fine red gash.

  “Sethy, cut his throat,” repeated Pamiu.

  Sethy stared at the drop of blood on Damon’s skin. So red, on skin so pale.

  “Sethy, look at me!”

  In a fluid gesture, Sethy plunged the blade into Pamiu’s neck.

  Pamiu’s eyes widened in surprise. He gurgled a sound.

  Sethy pulled the blade out, sideways, making the gash wider. Pamiu fell to his knees, mouth and neck covered in blood.

  “Your majesty!” yelled the captain of the guard, running back. “What’s going on?”

  Sethy suddenly felt very tired. The storm went on all around, any stability now gone. Reality came back to him, crushing in its horror.

  “Your highness, what are your orders concerning… Master Pamiu’s body?”

  “Throw it overboard. Speak of this to no one.”

  “Yes, your highness.”

  Pamiu’s body hit the water. Sethy closed his eyes, overwhelmed with sudden freedom. The only stable thing in the storm was Damon’s body in his arms.

  * * *

  “Damon!” screamed Soromeh.

  Iram had grabbed onto her and onto the mast, doing his best to keep them on board. The wind howled; the waves grew stronger. In the basket, the child started to cry.

  “Soromeh, no!” he yelled. “Stay on board!”

  “But Damon—”

  “You can’t jump in the water with the child! Sir Damon can swim, he can defend himself!”

  “Let me go, Iram. I have to—”

  Something hit the boat, shaking it violently. Iram lost his grip. Soromeh stumbled and went overboard in a loud splash.

  She found herself underwater and immediately panicked. She wanted to swim upwards, but her mind could only recall the shallow waters near the temple and the man who had tried to drown her. She could still feel his hands around her throat.

  She knew how to swim. She was barely under the surface, but the fear paralyzed her.

  The basket floated to the surface and was caught in the strong waves. It pulled on the leather straps, violently. The pain brought Soromeh back to the present. She kicked and came back to the surface, breathed in, and got a mouthful of sand.

  She coughed, got a wave in the face, swallowed water, and coughed some more.

  She heard Iram screaming her name. The felucca had been carried away. She swam. The wind and the waves made everything harder, but she managed to grab the fishing net.

  Iram pulled and brought her closer to the boat. She could barely climb, weighed down by her waterlogged clothes and the basket. Iram leaned over the railing to help.

  She was half out of the water when another hit shook the boat, almost throwing Iram. This time, there was a powerful growl over the wind. Soromeh knew that sound. All Egyptian children were taught to fear
it.

  A hippopotamus.

  It appeared through the storm, almost as big as the felucca, its mouth wide open.