The Ways of Eternity

by D.A. Dean

  ~ ~ ~

  Netum and Kafar stood silent, their gazes cast to the gold-flecked floor of the temple's inner hallway.

  Shouts came from Nephthys' inner rooms. Their king was in a bad mood. Kafar glanced at Netum and rolled his shoulders. "Are you sure we shouldn't just come back?" he asked quietly.

  "Silence," Netum commanded.

  They waited, bracing against the muffled yells.

  Seht slammed open the heavy silver-covered wooden door, and Kafar jumped. Seht's irises were black. They'd been dark blue when he looked into them while he was on the field. Was this a sign of his rage? Or just a trick of the light?

  Netum stepped back, his shoulders pressing the white-washed walls.

  Seht turned to Kafar. "Nephthys is ready to see you. Netum, come with me. I require entertainment."

  Netum answered quickly, "As you wish, O King."

  Was Kafar mistaken or had there been a note of fear in Netum's voice? In any case, Kafar was glad he wasn't the one asked to accompany their king. He held where he was, concentrating on shrinking into the murals until Seht disappeared down the opposite hallway, Netum following several steps behind.

  A voice low and hollow called from inside the chamber, "You may enter, Kafar."

  Kafar turned toward the open door and hesitated before squaring his shoulders and moving through. Catching sight of his queen, he drew his brows together in confusion.

  Nephthys sat on the floor, legs drawn up, arms wrapped around them. Blood from her knees seeped through her white gown. Her cheeks were ashen and tear stained. "Come closer," she said, loosening a pale, slender hand to motion him forward.

  "Yes, O Queen." Kafar willed his legs to comply. Heavy curtains of some material he didn't know covered the windows. Still, light bounced off the layers of silver painted over the walls and forming the low chairs, as well as some object that looked to him like a cushion-covered bed, arched silver legs holding it suspended above the silver-flecked black stone floor. Afraid she would resent his quick survey, he darted his gaze back to her.

  She seemed not to have noticed. "In the chest, you will find a small leather drawstring pouch. Bring it to me."

  A chest? How could a pouch be in a chest?

  "In that object, there," she said and pointed, the garnet wrapped in a silver band glittering over her extended finger. "Against that wall across from you. The upright box with legs."

  Kafar's eyes swiftly searched. Find it, find it, he told himself. He rushed to the chest. How to open it?

  "The circles along its front are pulls. The third one down on the right is the one you must open."

  On the right. Hand hovering, he counted, one, two, three. "This one, O Queen?"

  Nephthys nodded, her gaze blankly focused on the air before her.

  Kafar fastened his fingers to the tiny circle and tugged. The pouch. He lifted it carefully and turned. Should he offer to fetch a cloth for the blood over her lip? No time. "O Queen? I have the pouch."

  Slowly, like someone struggling to wake, she lifted and focused her gaze. "Bring it to me."

  He skittered his way across the shining stones, dropped to kneel before her, and lifted his hand, the pouch laying on his upturned palm. "Please, O Queen."

  She brushed her fingers, cool as the stone, against the side of his hand.

  Moments, like his cares, seemed to slip away.

  "Well done, Kafar." Nephthys swept her long auburn hair away from her face, smoothing its tangles.

  She was so pale, her lips so red, her eyes so green. So green. Dazzling. Kafar blinked. There was something about a pouch. Something, but he couldn't remember.

  Her eyes flashed. Cheeks hollowing, she angled her jaw. "No. I won't do it."

  "I was told..." he trailed off, at a loss.

  "I meant what I said, Nephthys." Seht emerged from a shadow at the rear of the room.

  Kafar started violently. The room had no door but the one through which he'd entered. He'd seen Seht exit, would have seen him if he'd returned. Did Seht, too, know magic? It was a disquieting thought.

  "The end does not justify the means. I won't do it," Nephthys repeated and lifted her chin.

  Jaw clenched, Seht stormed toward her, his eyes' midnight blue transitioning to black.

  No change in light could account for such a shift. Fear building, Kafar scuttled away.

  Seht struck his fist against the wall over Nephthys' head, sending flakes of stone down over her, dimming the gleam of her hair. "I meant what I said, damn you. Don't make me prove it."

  A tremor passed through her shoulders.

  Kafar crept nearer to the door.

  Seht glanced toward him. "Stay where you are, human."

  Kafar halted, terror gripping him.

  "I know you meant it," Nephthys answered hollowly. Blue tinged the green of her eyes, tears filling them.

  "Then do it. Give it to him." Seht sank closer and shouted, "Now."

  As if struck by the word's reverberation, Nephthys jerked. "Here!" She flung the pouch at Kafar and then pushed her hand into a fold in her dust-streaked gown.

  Was she about to employ her magic? Crouching, Kafar covered his head.

  She withdrew her hand and opened it. Against her palm rested a small dot of red and blue and a still smaller square of pink and cream. "Here!" She threw them. "Take them! Take them! Take them," her voice fell to a whisper. She wrapped her hands over her shoulders.

  Seht eyed her. "This better not be a trick."

  "You know it's not. Look at them yourself."

  "I will." Seht strode forward, scooped up the grain-sized objects, and threw back a curtain. Holding the circle and the square to the light, he studied them.

  "I wouldn't trick you."

  "No, I suppose not. You're headstrong and arrogant, like your sister, but you're not stupid. They look right."

  "They are!" The spark returned to her eyes. It flickered and faded. "Just hold to your promise."

  "Don't command me. Don't question me. Don't—" he took a breath. His posture softened. "Don't worry, dearest. I only want you to be happy. You know that."

  "Then let—"

  "Don't ruin it," he said, tilting his head. He bent and stroked her cheek.

  Kafar slid back against the wall and edged again toward the door.

  "Kafar," Seht said and turned to him.

  Kafar hastened to his knees. "O King?" he asked, his muscles tensing under the strain of Seht's stare.

  "Take this pouch."

  Kafar opened his hand and focused on holding it steady.

  Seht slapped the leather against Kafar's palm. "And these bits of magic." Carefully, he slipped the objects into the pouch and drew tight its strings. He turned to his wife. "Tell him how to use them. Nephthys." He clapped his hands together hard, and she started. "Do it."

  Nephthys covered her cheeks and took a breath. From her pale lips tumbled words of cunning trickery and high magic.

  "You know he can't understand all that. Simplify it."

  Nephthys bowed her head. "All he must remember is this. The square of blushing ivory will compel the priestess to reveal her secrets. The circle of blood and tears will cause his transformation."

  "Never mind the poetry. It's square, secrets, circle, transform. Commit it to memory, Kafar." Relaxing his posture, Seht smiled. "Quite impressive aids you've been given, wouldn't you say?"

  Kafar's heart was pounding, his head spinning.

  "Wouldn't you say?" Seht repeated, the edge creeping back into his voice.

  Kafar nodded hard. "Thank you, O King, O Queen."

  "Yes, yes," Seht said and gave his hand a flick. He knelt beside his wife. "Well done, dearest. That wasn't really so hard, was it? I don't know why you make things so much more difficult than need be. Still, all is forgiven now." He opened his arms.

  Nephthys turned way. "Leave me alone. Please, Seht."

 
Stiffly, Seht righted. "As you wish. As always." He strode toward the door, Kafar tripping out of his way. "Don't come back until you've accomplished your task, Kafar. Your queen and I will be waiting, along with your family." He slammed the door.

  Kafar pressed his fingers to his forehead. He had to stop his head's spinning, had to clear his mind—no. Had to concentrate. Fastening the pouch securely against his knife's sheath, he glanced at his queen.

  She sat curled forward, rocking her head against her knees.

  Hands shaking, he knotted the pouch's strings again, three times, a fourth. Soundlessly, he exited.

  Nephthys' words trailed him. "What have I done? Oh, what have I done?"

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