Voices in Crystal

by Mary R Woldering

  Marai knew the moment he looked more carefully at the pattern woven into the gold chased drape, that he had chosen to sit in the king’s “visiting” throne. He sat quietly for a moment, trying to ignore the tenseness in his gut at the priest’s vicious thoughts.

  Are you serious? His own thoughts rang back.

  At one time, perhaps fairly recently, Marai would have paid attention to anyone touting the ability to bring down magical wrath on him or access deities, but not today and not from this man. He knew this long awaited meeting was already turning into a mystical dogfight. In a lesson about veiling thoughts in secrecy he had learned from Ariennu, Marai used his Child Stone to block his own thoughts with her rainbow images. He simply altered the etheric construction of their essence. He didn’t want this high priest to know that he had almost instantly figured out answers to any questions he had about Djedi or his mission as soon as he saw the man. Although this priest had indeed been Great Djedi’s heir apparent and likely the most highly educated man in all of Kemet, he was completely unfit to take possession of the Children of Stone.

  Marai suddenly felt his entire journey to Kemet had been a dreadful mistake. The Children should have realized this about the high priest. They should never have asked Marai to come to Ineb Hedj. He was about to apologize for his intrusion, turn and leave, when he sensed the Child Stone in his brow whispering to his interior spirit:

  Listen to his words

  Calm him

  He will teach you much.

  He will straighten your path

  Straighten? Teach? Marai mused... I think not...

  Assist...Ease...

  A frusrated, sighing little thought raced through him with such a renewed force that it left Marai feeling a little giddy at it’s power. He suddenly knew what to do.

  It’s the pain in your bones, isn’t it? I’m sorry I overstepped, Gracious Highness! Marai suddenly rose from the chair and circled behind the old man. If I had to suffer like that, it would keep me cross with the world, too. Poor thing! You’re all worn out from the Shefbedet feasts, the goddess sailings, and before that, your duty. The sojourner plumped the pillows up and helped the priest sit straighter, as if he were tending an ailing parent.

  The high priest’s dun colored, bony shoulders drained all warmth from Marai’s hands the instant he touched them. Any momentary thankfulness that flickered in his craggy face, faded as soon as the elder realized his young-looking adversary was trying to make a curious sort of peace with him.

  When Hordjedtef looked up and back at Marai, he flashed a grin eerily full of too many teeth for such an ancient man. “Marai bin Ahu...” the old man spoke, at last, just above a whisper. “Welcome to my house.” he said. “I had not thought we would meet.”

  Marai smiled down as warmly as he could manage, massaging the old priest’s shoulders. Ariennu had taught him well over these months about the skill of touch. To her, it had always been the first part of seduction. Underneath it, deception and all sorts of high devilment could be placed, if needed.

  Ariennu...Wise MaMa... He suddenly couldn’t get the image of her standing at their door this morning as he left, out of his thoughts.

  The women would be tending the booth at the market by this time. They would be selling more of their delicious honeyed dates, herbal preparations and women’s medicines. Etum Addi’s son Ninka would have taken the blue beads to Djerah’s family so they could pay for the old woman’s burial. Marai grew immeasurably sad that he wasn’t going to be with them for so many days, enjoying the life he had built with them. He responded to the old priest, making the sound of his voice as gentle as possible.

  “And you are, then, Count Prince Hordjedtef, Scion of Nekheny; son of the God Khnum-Khufu the Great.” Marai continued. He didn’t like the idea he saw in the old man’s smile and needed to show him something to distract him. He knew the elder had picked out his kindliness and was already thinking he might keep his guest around as a fine big and strong man...a glorified house pet.

  The elder’s eyes popped open in almost horrified surprise that this half-giant with the simple demeanor had just sliced through all of his devices of secrecy. He hadn’t wanted a mere sojourner repeating his name or knowing exactly how lofty his lineage was until he decided to release the information himself. The old man knew if this foreigner could discover his name by just touching him, it might be too easy for such an aspiring student to learn more than he was ever supposed to know without being born of royal blood. His elder eyes slammed shut again in an impressed wince as his veined brown hand seized and stayed Marai’s bright copper colored hand. He nodded that he was grateful for feeling better.

  “You do not know the proper form of respect, my handsome sojourner?” He inquired with an almost serpentine slyness, trying to sense more things about the stranger seated before him at the same time he asked the question. He beckoned for a servant, who had been lurking almost out of sight and even gawking at the exchange, to come fan him a little.

  Instead, Marai got up, took the long handled nefet from it’s stand near the man’s chair, and moved it slowly in front of the elderly man’s face until the air caught in the ostrich feathers and created a cooling breeze.

  “That’s good” he thanked the shepherd, but quickly admonished him.

  “Your open ways are bold and dangerous. As an Akkad trader, were you not taught differently than to speak a man’s name without his leave?” His eyes, black but infinitely birdlike, served as open windows to all sorts of guile and double talk gliding below their shiny surface. “I was so looking forward to the treat of your poetic wilderness homage.” His voice slithered all over it’s sweet words as if he were a great snake charming a little sand mouse.

  “But you have come into my place, approached me, fanned me, and even put your unwashed hands on my body.”

  Marai stopped fanning the old priest, placed the nefet in it’s stand and circled back to the front of the old one’s dais, in disbelief.

  You should be glad I didn’t snap your scrawny neck, when I was behind you. he grumbled inwardly. Nodding slightly, he saluted with a hand reverence once again that touched his brow and chest, then swayed outward in a kind of bow, to show he was unarmed.

  “I am actually a Shinar by my mother, your Highness, not Akkad.” he corrected. “I was birthed in Ai, in the Shinar lands near Ur as my Abu’s family traveled. I grew to manhood in the Shur on the Copper Road not far from the mines.” He felt irritation over everything that had happened continuing to seep up through his false show of stately grace. “I show respect, where none has been given to me. Or given to my beloveds...”

  He folded his arms and started to pace back and forth between the dais and the edge of the pool no longer looking at the priest. “Who is it that sends someone to attack women?”

  The more Marai thought about it, the more impatient with this meeting he grew. He kept seeing the disarray in his household: Ariennu’s stupor, Naibe-Ellit nearly dying of terror, Deka being taken by mysterious forces.

  The priest this man had sent to them opened a spiritual door so that something else with a great rage had come through it. The priest who visited them was innocent of that offense. He had seemed truly shocked last night when Marai sent him the image of what had taken place. It was the older priest who knew more than he was saying. Everything about him drew information, rather than supplied it. Everything about this elder was backward from the Children’s intent.

  Marai hoped they understood. He didn’t want to continue in this foolishness a moment longer. The women were waiting for him to come home soon.

  “Ah...that is so delightfully provincial of you, my dear man.” The elder sighed in a condescending titter. “A woman is not a powerless creature. Woman is rather, the creator of the universe. Your attitudes are more than uncivilized. Woman is the strength of a man and his creator as well...at birth, and at her breast, so much so that our king or bravest warrior will cry out to the divine woman and she who birthed him in his la
st moment...So be it.”

  The quickening of the blue veins at the old man’s’ naked temples was the only indication of his irritation, but Marai was certain he sensed the words:

  Strike at the beloved one and disable the man. Without the beloved feminine, there is no courage.

  Marai sensed the beginnings of the water-bird taking shape over that stern and noble countenance.

  “I am the one you have been seeking throughout your long years. You have my birth name, and I am a Royal Prince by birth, Count of Nekhen by legacy, but Great One of Five by the choice of Djehuti to you, yet I prefer you not speak my name or birthright again. Great One, or Your Highness is the only form of address acceptable to me and to be used sparingly and only under points of emergency.” His bony hands gripped his armrests on either side of him as if he were actually holding himself down from impending, flapping flight.

  Well just look at you? I’ve ruffled your feathers so now you have to take the form of the bird? Marai paused in fascinated mirth, cheerily took his seat in the forbidden chair, and leaned forward, to watch the transformation as it happened. Long ago, he had heard of wizards and illusionists who could change their shape for whatever reason. It was more than fascinating to watch, especially since he sensed that it was not an actual transformation. It was a bending of the intended audience’s thoughts into perceiving a shift in shape.

  The priests’ eyes grew into dark slits that glowed a faint red in the cracks.

  You see me, you ill bred goat? You will come to loathe this day that you thought you could be so familiar with me. His thoughts floated out, unguarded. After a moment, the elder realized Marai had sensed his irritation. He began to calm himself

  “So,” he restarted with a put-upon sigh. “Now that you have found me, and I have given audience, what is it you want, my ever young, yet increasingly old shepherd man?” The slit eyes continued to show more than mild irritation “I sense you didn’t even bring the things you were instructed to bring me, eons ago.” His voice cloyed sweeter than the candied dates Naibe-Ellit made.

  Marai assumed the elder was trying to sound powerful, or maybe to sound like the god Djehuti himself, but he was falling miserably short of his goal. If this Prince Hordjedtef was a god, he was a different sort of creature than the God of Wisdom. Though well-trained, brutally intelligent, powerful, and princely, he lacked something.

  The sojourner had felt the elder’s life of disappointment the moment he had touched his shoulders to massage them. Perhaps the truth that he barely missed kingship because of the quick thinking of his sister not only once, but three times and the fact that none of his sons had lived to rule in his name had made him bitter over the years. The old man had even aligned himself with one of his daughter’s sons and then the younger priestly prince for some yet unidentified dark purpose. Marai worked constantly to keep his spirit closed and protected from the vicious, confidence shattering under-thoughts, pouring from the old man’s subconscious.

  “I wanted to be sure I had the right person.” Marai insisted a little defensively. “I thought I was supposed to come here for help...That you’d teach me how to unlock what was placed in me and that we could study the golden scrolls the Children of Ta-Ntr had shown me. The welcome you’ve given me makes me glad I didn’t subject my benefactors to any of this firsthand.” The palms of Marai’s hands begin to sweat and tingle. His scalp prickled.

  What?! Marai instinctively shut his eyes and bowed his head. His brow pulsed at a low level of self-protection. Another pesky utterance? Are you still trying to curse me? He thought Have I wronged you so much just by discovering your name? Or is it that my still being alive and able to come to see you at all, that vexes you? You’re mad because I’m better than the average peasant you can have flogged or killed. You’ve grown old waiting for this and now you know you have to go through so much more of me before you can get your bony hands on your prize? Is that it?

  The elder prince’s face creased in genuine puzzlement. The feeling of hostility vanished as if it had all been a joke.

  “Oh... that...the prickle you just felt?” he dismissed, but Marai knew better. “Part of the first scrutiny is the testing of a soul’s ability to defend itself.” The old voice airily related as if he had meant nothing by the attack. The priest’s left hand had risen ever so slightly, forming a silent gesture. Now he lowered it again and inspected his nails as the tingling sensation faded.

  “You do quite well for one who is not learned, but I would still be the stronger of us. And don’t insult my intelligence with your honeyed innocence.” Hordjedtef snapped. “Any friendship between us is unlikely. See...”

  The priest stretched, having grown a little more smug and comfortable “In protecting yourself, you opened your thoughts quite handsomely to me.” His eyes opened round and shiny black; his nose looked longer and down turned...ibis-like again.

  “As for helping you, I will do that. Great Djehuti intends no restriction on the seeking of knowledge. Your course toward initiation will be different than most, however. Normally, as I’m certain my protege informed you, the pursuit of wisdom takes a lifetime of devotion and study. I will “unlock” what is hiding in your heart with a series of inquiries and examinations each day. Then we will see what we will see” Hordjedtef’s voice grew dismissive again. “But know also, man of the wilderness, that the gaining of the knowledge you seek comes at a dreadful price.”

  Marai knew that. His entire existence had seemed to prove that more than once. For every gain in any part of life, wise study or not, there was an equal and often a greater-seeming loss. Only a fool would think the elder was referring to that. His evil,-sweet old voice, only occasionally stern, seemed to present him as a true master of deception, a trickster. That was both odd and irritating since he was the earthly representative of the god of wisdom and truth. Thoughts of thrashing about the plaza and into the living quarters, like an enraged bull, filled the former shepherd. Idly drumming his fingers on his knee, Marai watched the transformation of priest into bird continue.

  Ibis of Djehuti Marai’s t thoughts grumbled What a performance! I bet I could do something like that...send a little of his own medicine back to him. He paused, wondering if he could return the entertainment by actually presenting himself as that restless bull in the plaza after all...

  Do I dare? He wondered. Nah...I couldn’t...oh but the old bird begs me... can’t be just any bull...maybe Gugulanna the Bull of Heaven. Maybe it won’t be too great of a sacrilege if I borrow this demigod shape for just a little...

  The speckled feathers were forming on a head of a bird where the old man’s head had been...

  Marai contemplated, for only a moment more then whispered his prayer.

  Oh, spirit of The Lady, whom I have loved, ask it of him...Let me teach the pompous old turd a lesson!

  Marai carefully formed the visualization once: the snout, muscle, the lapis lazuli beard. As he brought the image through, he sent more thoughts to the priest, hoping to distract him.

  I’m no pretty toy for you to control or own... Your gods are not mine... You have no power over me. He breathed out once...then twice. He took a deep breath and felt the thought race through him like chattering whispers. Yes...

  Ariennu loved to toy with the two loose tendrils of Marai’s swept back silvery hair in the quiet moments when they were together. She called them his “horns”. Now they formed into actual horns shaped like an upright crescent as the animal form overtook him. With a third breath; he rose to his feet, moved closer to the old man and blew his breath on the image of the bird in front of him. Nothing else mattered to him now. He felt the massiveness, smelled the animal odor, sensed the stately male feel and the tug of immense sexuality, pure white like silver, yet darkly proud. He thought of the lapis beard, but now the thought wouldn’t stay. Instead Marai felt his shape evolving further into a white bull with a glowering black face...He didn’t know the bull image he was presenting but knew it would mean more to the old ma
n than a vision of Gugulanna.

  A secret horror filled the sojourner. If Gugulanna didn’t feel quite right to him, this different bull felt perfect. His humanity had now become the illusion. An annoying swamp bird prodded his wonderful flanks. With an irritated snort, the bull lunged forward, hooves striking down once at the ibis head; horns lowered to gore anything that dared survive.

  After only an instant, Marai cleared his thoughts. He was leaning heavily on the dark stone table between himself and the old man.

  The elder had drawn back, wincing in slight discomfort, but fiercely guarding himself with his hands in a pose of dispelling. A fine crack stretched across the table where Marai’s fist had crashed down on it. The pretty carved alabaster cup that had held the elder’s tea had rolled to the polished tile floor and shattered.

  “Look, you...” Marai began, bellowing with a human/ bull voice, still full of snarl and snort, slamming his fist down on the table again with a force that widened the crack “I know what this is about. But you don’t dare blame me or my family for what happened to you or your teacher!” he shouted, bending into the old man’s face.

  “Your Djed Djedi knew very well why I was picked out among all men.” He backed away and whirled into an angry pace, throwing his shoulders back to shake the tension out of his arms. “I had a fair life in the Shur. I’d made a decision to change my ways and come here with my family. The things done to me were a complete shock! I asked for none of this!”

  The release of tension wasn’t working. The coat Ariennu had made from the cloud of dark linen had ripped. The same red rage that came upon him the morning he killed the band of desert rats was making his thoughts turn increasingly dark. The only thing stopping him from slaughter was the piercing headache that had begun to spread back from the stone in his brow.

  Marai knew Hordjedtef was using the word of power that could bind the Children of Stone. It was the same word that had come through the sesh’s description and the same word that had been used yesterday when the younger priest had flashed his amulet. The elder priest was using it to whittle away Marai’s strength and to gain control over him bit by bit... If he fully returned to himself...