by D.A. Dean
Chapter 28: Prepare for War
Midway along the hall leading to Nephthys' rooms, Seht stopped. What was it Harian had said? A god of strength and wisdom. He didn't think Seht physically weak. Did he think him foolish?
Had Harian gleaned the motive behind Seht's order to kill Terin? Would others? Would there now be whispers? Seht slammed his fist into the white marble wall.
Well, it wouldn't be the first time he'd faced adversity from those meant to stand with him. Besides, those here weren't immortals, and it was a feeble god indeed who couldn't marshal and command humans. Perhaps he had let his anger get the better of him this day. That didn't negate his vast power or the knowledge he'd garnered from the experiences he'd encountered through the countless ages.
Seht knocked back Nephthys' sitting room's silver and lilac doors and strode inside. "One, you will not speak to me in that tone of voice in front of humans. Two, you may share strategy, but you will not question my actions. Three, you will not put others above me, particularly your precious priestesses. I am your husband and your king. It's time you remember that. Look at me when I'm speaking to you."
Hands hidden in the folds of her gown, Nephthys turned.
"Well? You have nothing to say?"
"Apparently I will say whatever you wish me to say, O King." Nephthys' gaze, cold, fixed to his, and she bowed.
Seht ground his teeth. "Alright, I'm sorry about the priestesses, but I had my reasons. And the time for indulging the humans is past. The boy killed Kafar. As I'm sure you've heard. Now he's coming."
Nephthys gasped, her eyes widening. "He's coming—here?"
Why was she frightened? He eyed her. "Of course not."
She released a long breath, her trembling abating.
"You think a boy could challenge either of us?"
"Oh, well, no." Nephthys moistened her lips. "No, I was simply surprised. I always assumed I wouldn't meet him."
"Surely you don't fear him? Our sweet little nephew?"
"Don't. I asked you never to call him that."
"Yes, you did. Though you were never clear as to why." Seht took a step closer. "Not having doubts are you, my darling one? Surely not after all that's happened? Surely not after all...we've accomplished."
Nephthys dropped her gaze. "There is no turning back for me. I know that."
"Would you want to?" He added softly, "Isn't this what you wished for? To be queen? Just as I longed to be king?"
"Yes, I wished for it, Ra help me. I still want it. But I want the humans to adore us, as they did Osiris and Isis, not fear us. I don't want war. If only," she said and shook her head. "I didn't know there would be a child."
"There wasn't meant to be. If Isis had accepted defeat graciously, the present difficulties wouldn't exist."
Brow lifted, Nephthys turned to her offertory tables.
"It was selfish of her to bear a son." Seht went to the cushions lining the wall and sat. "What did she think would happen to him? She had the sense to hide him. Why couldn't she have the sense to subdue him? If she'd take care of matters herself, I wouldn't now have to. After all the fuss following Osiris' death, she must realize I'd leave Horus alone if I just had assurance he'd mind his own affairs."
Nephthys lowered the goblet she'd lifted. "Would you?"
"Aren't you going to offer me any wine?" Seht paused while Nephthys poured. "Well, I suppose you're right. Even if the child had no intention of interfering and didn't develop one, the fact of his existence creates uncertainty in the humans' minds. They're so easily confused. Still, if they'd never found out, things might've been different."
"No, you'd have seen him as a challenge no matter the circumstance because of the way you came to the throne."
Seht took a sip. "I think you mean the way we came to the throne. Dearest."
"Yes, I was jealous of Isis, I admit that, just as you were jealous of Osiris."
"Jealous? You'd name that as my reason?" Teeth bared, Seht rose. "You stupid—"
Eyebrow arched, gaze hard, Nephthys angled her head.
"Forgive me." Seht knelt to her. "You're the cleverest I've ever known. Without you, none of this would be."
Nephthys blinked. Tears filled her eyes, and she looked away.
Satisfied he'd corrected his blunder, Seht returned to the cushions. "Jealousy had nothing to do with it. Osiris was unfit for the position. Ra wouldn't rectify the mistake. Someone had to preserve the natural order of the universe, the old ways. I accepted the responsibility and carried out the necessary actions."
"Is that what you tell yourself?" she asked quietly.
"Feel guilt if you want," Seht said scornfully, "but don't expect me to share it. I gave Osiris every chance. He refused to try to understand, refused to alter his course. There was nothing else to do. He had to be destroyed before he destroyed...I did what had to be done. Now, if the boy has to be destroyed, so be it. He moved the island."
Nephthys jerked. "Impossible."
"Yes, yet, the island has been moved." Seht tilted his head, considering. Even if Horus someday developed that level of power and managed to harness it, he was certainly too young to possess the control and fortitude necessary to subdue the terror he felt upon hearing Seht's voice.
Seht smiled. Yes, the boy had felt terror. He motioned Nephthys closer. "You're right. What could a five year old have learned of self-discipline? From humans at that, whatever their respective ranks. It wasn't the boy who moved the island but the mother." Isis had overcome the chanted spells of Nephthys' priestesses, that was all. And those particular priestesses wouldn't fail him again.
From the corner of his eye, Seht watched for sign Nephthys' anger might return. But it seemed danger had smothered her outrage.
He shrugged. "Let the people run to the boy. Let them see him attempt to handle the war I'll plan. By the time I and my army are finished, all the people will prostrate themselves, offer obeisance after obeisance, clamor for me to save them from the pretender, this would-be king."
They'd beg forgiveness, pledge themselves to worshipping him, offer themselves in every way. And hearing their cries, their pleas, he would go to them. He would save them.
Nephthys pressed her lips. "Isn't there another way? If I called to Isis? If I tried to reason with—"
"You'd think of trying to speak to her?" Pushing down his hurt and anger, Seht pressed his knees into the cushions.
Nephthys leaned away. Then, taking a breath, she laced her hands together. "I only meant to offer you my assistance."
"Liar."
Lowering her shoulders, she stood. "I don't know why you feel the need to question and demean me when you feel unsettled. It's not my fault Horus got away."
"I don't feel unsettled. He's just a boy."
"Now who's the liar?"
He sucked his teeth. "So, you do think he's a threat?"
"You obviously do."
"How much of one?"
"Since you refuse any intercession on my part with Isis, his coming does mean war."
"You don't think they'll hand him over?"
"The humans? No, I don't. You've heard their cries for him just as I have."
"You don't think when they see him, a child, a brat of one at that, they'll give up, abandon the notion?"
"It's possible but doubtful. Hope is seldom based in reason. Even knowing nothing about him, those who resist cling to the idea of bringing the son to the father's throne. However," she said and paused, playing with the cushions' fringe, "there is a possibility that may occur in our favor."
Seht leaned closer. "Go on."
"If Horus deviates from the humans' expectations, they are fickle, humans, they might turn from him. If they consider him to be a false god compared to Osiris, a god of malevolence in contrast to Osiris' beneficence, or what they saw as beneficence," Nephthys amended, giving her head a slight tilt, and Seht nodded, "they might well decry him.
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br /> "If he proves to be enough of an aberration, they might even seek his destruction, turning to you as their king to rid themselves of the one who disappointed them. Then it would be over." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "It would all be over."
"Dearest?" Seht touched Nephthys' hand. "It will never be as it was. We succeed or we fail."
Nephthys lifted her chin. "Then we must succeed."
"Yes. Now it's up to me to hurry along the humans' 'disappointment'." He kissed her cheek, rose, and strode toward the door.
"Seht," Nephthys called, and he turned. "You won't kill him yourself, will you?"
"Does a king bother to kill a gnat when there are servants in his house? No, I'll leave his destruction to himself, my warriors, and those who hope to call him king."
"Good. Then stay a while." Caressing the curtain behind her, Nephthys laid back. "Let's enjoy the wine."
Seht took a step toward her, but then he shook his head. "We have all of time to indulge ourselves, dearest. Though my warriors have fought battles, up till now I've been merciful to the humans. Tonight, begins war."
Eyes narrowed, Seht smiled, his plan taking shape in his mind. "Osiris' sword. I want it."
Her gaze became wary. "You'd find it fitting to kill the son with the father's sword."
Seht kept his voice casual, "I just said I wouldn't kill him myself."
"Yes, well. Even Isis doesn't know where the sword is hidden." She took a drink of wine.
"Because she doesn't want to risk its location becoming known. Rightly so. Isis should have destroyed the sword. The fact she didn't can mean only one thing. She believes it might aid her child."
Nephthys shook her head. "He's countless millennia away from even possibly having the strength to wield it."
"But his merely possessing it would further his prestige, emphasizing the connection in the humans' minds between father and son."
She seemed to consider. "Your possessing it would create further difficulty for him to find followers."
"Among other things. For instance, any notion Osiris might have of seeking revenge will be laid waste."
"He isn't restored. You think he could one day try—"
"It's possible. Though he'd be a fool if he did." Seht waited till she returned her gaze to him and added, "By getting me the sword, you'll be affording Osiris a chance to live out his days in peaceful seclusion. No one will encourage him to avenge himself if he doesn't have his sword. And you'll be affording the boy a chance to figure out he has no chance of winning and return to his island."
"You think he might? Go back?"
Expression carefully controlled, Seht shrugged. "Anything is possible." He let his gaze harden. "Your task will be to discover the sword's location. I don't care how, just do it. And remember, Nephthys, my possessing it is in both our interests."
Nephthys was silent a moment. "No one must know how it came to you."
She was worried about how Isis' priestesses might retaliate against hers? Seht refrained from rolling his eyes. "As you wish, dearest."
"Finding it will take time. Only a seer can locate it."
"A seer? One of Isis' precious pets?" He shook his head. "If their skills are so extraordinary, why didn't the ones we killed—"
"The ones you killed."
"You want to be exact? Alright. The one's my followers killed. With your priestesses' aid. Dearest."
"You said you'd never speak of—"
"You broached it. Anyway, why didn't the seers 'see' their own deaths and take measures? I suppose they considered what they saw to be their 'destinies' Ooh." He feigned a shiver. "The humans' minds are so narrow."
Nephthys frowned. "Something that's served us well, in this regard."
"Hm. True. How many remain alive?"
"Two. They're both in deep hiding."
"So, it wasn't their 'destiny' to die? Good for them. Find one of them."
"Doing so will, as I said, take time. Potentially, a great deal. However, there's a priestess, more easily reached than either of the seers, who could become a seer if she turned from her present path of healer. I remember Isis once spoke of her. Petraylia."
Set curled his lip. "That bothersome chieftain's wife? She has, what do they call it, 'visions'? Well, well. All the more reason to find that particular couple. It will be a pleasure torturing the husband to make the wife alter her path."
"No. That gift can't be forced."
"Really? And you know this from experience, do you?" Recalling Nephthys' unhappiness over Isis' success and her own failures, Seht sighed. "Oh, alright. Then discover the way to coerce or trick her."
"That will require much preparation. As will unwrapping and countering the layers of magic Isis has woven around the sword."
"Right. Well, you make your preparations, and I'll make mine. And remember, dear one, this is in all our interests, mine, yours, the boy's, the father's, even Isis'."
Quickly, Nephthys looked away.
So, her hope of a future reconciliation with her sister hadn't yet died. As if Isis would ever trust her again. Isis was forgiving. She wasn't a fool. Nonetheless, as Nephthys had said of the seers' limits, Nephthys' yearning to rebuild a bond broken served him well in this regard. He said, "I'll leave you to your schemes." Whistling, he made his way back along the hallway toward his throne room.
His guards swiftly came to attention.
Regally, Seht lowered onto his throne. "Malik, get me the quartermaster and signals master." He commanded the nearest guard, "Find Netum, Harian, and—damn it." Terin. Seht frowned. "Tell them to come here."
Who would take Terin's place, the son who so diligently and adeptly carried out his father's strategies? And what of Harian, his grief so fresh, his hatred of Seht now so hot? Seht couldn't afford to order Harian's death. He was the only human with as much knowledge of the lands and the people as Tatuuf. But trusting Harian was now a risk. Or was it? Seht tapped the thrones rails.
Those who'd been summoned arrived, and Seht stood. "Follow me," he ordered and marched left across the throne room to the hallway leading up to the dining room and down to his scroll room, his commanders' rooms, his bedroom.
What was Nephthys now doing in her wing, cluttered with a guest room no one would use and a garden bursting with over-fragranced herbs and flowers. Flowers. He exhaled hard through his nostrils, the scents even now seeming to linger. Nephthys' potions had their uses, certainly. His suspicions she'd made attempts to use them on him didn't diminish his respect for her skills or her potions' powers. Just the opposite. He'd found himself growing more and more mindful of them.
But that was about to change. Her need of his protection would increase not lessen as long as the boy was alive. Yes, her vacillation would end. For a moment, he felt almost glad of Isis' selfishness in bearing a child.
Seht paused before his scroll room's open doors. "As you know, none but my counselor have ever before been granted access to this room. That changes tonight." He marched to the table's head, sat, and motioned each man into place, watching with amusement their reactions as they pulled out the elaborately carved chairs. "This is now my war room."
The quartermaster turned his wondering gaze from the room's shelves filled with rolled papyri. Surprise then pleasure shone in Malik's eyes. Harian's gaze, a moment ago fixed with as much malevolence as he seemed to think he could dare, shifted. Yes, no doubt he was considering what tactics to employ against Seht and whether his own compromised emotions would make Seht's continued victory over him inevitable.
Eyes gleaming, Netum, seated to Seht's right, leaned closer. "'War' room, O King? Does that mean...?"
"Yes, my deliciously vicious Netum. War. The boy is coming to the mainland. The rabble rousers, the resisters, will be stirred anew. My patience, already greatly eroded, has reached its end. Those who don't bow to me will pay the price. You five are my war council.
"Harian, when last we spoke privately, we discussed the use of spies and spreading misinformation. You're relieved of those duties. Your duty now is to use all you know and create tactics for our new field commander to carry out."
Closely watching Harian, noting his brows quick upward flick, his lips subtle pursing, Seht leaned back and steepled his fingers. So easily read, this human. And, like all the others, so easily compelled.
Seht spread his hands over the table's deep red-brown. "Oh, I know what you're thinking, Harian. You're thinking, 'My king is willing to place such trust in me after all that's happened? Truly, what a great and wise and beneficent king I serve. Ah, it must be he recognizes how seriously I take my duty to the troops, those men whose lives depend on the decisions I make.'" He stared in Harian's eyes. "'Those men whose families' lives depend on the decisions I make. Yes, that must be. Oh, what a very great king I follow.'" He paused a beat. "Malik, you'll take Terin's place. You're promoted to field commander."
Malik glanced at Harian. As if feeling Seht's glare, he straightened and returned his gaze, made steely yet respectful, to Seht. "I appreciate your confidence in me, O King, and the opportunity to prove myself further. I'll do all you require, and I'll see the troops do, as well."
"No doubt," Seht said and tipped his head. "Now, then. Sub-commanders. Harian, Malik, you will consider who among the warriors make the best candidates. Tomorrow morning, you'll inform me of your recommendations, Netum and I will confer, and I'll decide.
"Quartermaster, Signals Master, you'll devise your plans for ensuring the troops are supplied and lines of communication laid, as well as the means of maintaining both. You, too, will present your recommendations in the morning.
"Strategy Master, Field Commander, Quarter Master, Signals Master, you will have five days from the end of our meeting tomorrow to begin implementing your plans. You're dismissed."
Seht waited for the room to clear, angled nearer to Netum, and smiled. "And for you, dear Counselor, an assignment you'll enjoy. Just as in your role in my predecessor's death, you're in charge not only of spies and spreading misinformation but more cunning and deadly subterfuge. The most effective blows, as you know and demonstrate with such skill and artistry, aren't the ones that strike only the body. You will use all your talents to uncover the boy's secrets. You, Netum, will discover the means of piercing his heart."
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