Chapter Thirty: The Hidden Phial
They hurried back through the corridors and crossed the courtyard, which no longer seemed beautiful to Kiya, but deep, like a pit, within its imprisoning walls. The guards bowed as Qelhatat approached and one of them opened the door to her rooms.
Kiya remembered the delight with which she had first seen the murals of the antechamber. The skill of artists had brought the outside indoors, with men hunting ducks, harvesting corn and punting through papyrus reeds. Now she wished she was back in the countryside far away from the oppressive atmosphere of the temple.
At the far end of the antechamber was a pair of gilded doors, made from rare hardwoods. Kiya followed Qelhatat as she pushed open the doors and entered the throne room. The thought that she would soon be sitting on the throne at the centre of the room filled Kiya with apprehension. The trappings of a High Priestess would hide a weak, soft-hearted peasant girl.
She paused to look around the room, which had so impressed her as a novitiate. Rows of pillars supported the ceiling, their tops shaped like lotus buds. All around the walls ran benches, cushioned with fine tapestries. Vases of flowers fragranced the air and light poured in through high windows. It was a grand room but the feminine touches of embroidery and flowers softened the atmosphere and made it welcoming.
It had been two years since Kiya had been in the throne room. She remembered how she and Eopei had joined the temple at the same time, awed by the magnificence of the High Priestess, who welcomed them. How happy she had been then, with a world of possibilities opening before her. Kiya stared up at the ceiling, where a flock of painted doves flew across an azure sky. Freedom or responsibility? She no longer had a choice, the bones had been cast.
“Do not dawdle, child,” said Qelhatat. “I wish to show you the bedroom.” She held open a door at the back of the throne room. Kiya entered and saw it was a simpler room, painted white and sparsely furnished. Clothes stands stood against one wall, bearing the official robes of the High Priestess, topped with ceremonial wigs. On a plinth beside the bed gleamed the golden crown of office. A chair and dressing table were the other furniture, also a cedar-wood chest. Kiya peeped in and found it contained neatly-folded linen.
”Those are your sleeping shifts,” said Qelhatat.
“What about you? Where are your things, Highness?”
Qelhatat shook her head. “I have moved out, Kiya. My work here is nearly done. There is one last thing I must show you.” She went to the plinth and opened a hidden door. “Tomorrow is the night of the full moon. You will find a small glass phial hidden within this compartment. It will contain a sleeping draught, which you must administer to the girl who is to be sacrificed.”
Kiya nodded, but the horror of the deed twisted like a knife in her gut. Qelhatat closed the door and laid her hands on Kiya’s shoulders. “Be strong, child. The pain of the sacrificed is over in a moment. Your suffering will last a lifetime if your resolution weakens and you let guilt overwhelm you.
“I’m not sure that I can do this,” faltered Kiya.
“Anubis would not have chosen you if he felt you lacked courage,” said the High Priestess. “Remember, that without you, he would either die or break the bonds of his prison and spread terror through the land. You provide a service not only to the god you love but also to your country.”
Kiya had not thought about it in this way and took comfort from Qelhatat’s words. With a strengthened resolve she asked, “Who places the phial in the pillar?”
“Urshu,” said Qelhatat. She came close to Kiya and said, almost in a whisper, “Urshu is the one who truly runs things here. The High Priestess is a figurehead who must do as she is told. Beware of him, Kiya. He has a knife like a long needle, made from star metal. It can slide through the body and pierce the heart, then be withdrawn, leaving scarcely a trace of a wound.”
Kiya had heard of star metal – more precious even than gold. It was found by nomads in the desert, where shooting stars fall. A knife made from star metal would be hard and sharp and she shivered at the thought of such a needle-blade.
“He calls it his problem-solver,” continued Qelhatat. “Be careful that he never considers you a problem.”
“What if I decide not to be the next High Priestess?” asked Kiya, horrified by the thought of Urshu’s justice.
“After all that I have told you? That would be a problem, indeed.”
Qelhatat looked around the bedroom and sighed. She seemed so old and vulnerable that Kiya was sorry for her.
“Where will you go, Highness? Will you be provided for?”
“Do not worry about me, Kiya.” The High Priestess gave her a grateful smile. “I knew this day was coming and I have made preparations. Anubis has long ceased to desire me. We humans age quickly compared to gods.” Qelhatat clapped her hands. Two slaves came into the room and stood with their eyes cast down, waiting for instructions. “Prepare the new High Priestess.”
Kiya stood, trying to hide her embarrassment as the slaves undid the shoulder straps of her tunic and she stepped out of it, naked.
Perfumed oil was rubbed into her skin and then a pleated tunic was taken from one of the stands, so finely woven that it was translucent. Over that came a green cloak embroidered with ostrich feathers. Kiya was led to the dressing table and sat, while her face was painted and on her head was placed an elaborately coiffured wig.
The slaves left the room. “You certainly look the part,” said Qelhatat. “and I am sure you will be able to perform your role with ease. It is nearly time for you to take the dance class.”
The dance class! With all the revelations about the High Priestess’s duties, Kiya had forgotten that she was also a dance instructor. “I am not qualified to teach the girls,” she protested. “Please stay a bit longer, Qelhatat, so I can learn from you.”
“You do not need help, child,” said Qelhatat. “You were one of my best performers and you should know all the steps by now. The key is to gain the respect of the girls and you will not do that by relying on me.”
Kiya would have continued to beg, but there was a knock on the door and the voice of Urshu called. “It is time to take the class, Highness.”
“Good luck, my child,” said Qelhatat and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Will I see you again?” asked Kiya.
“I doubt it,” said Qelhatat, with a sad smile.
“I want to thank you...” Kiya’s sentence remained unfinished as Urshu burst into the room.
“Did you not hear me summon you? The dancers are waiting.” Urshu’s irritation showed and Kiya realised that she could expect little respect from him.
“I am coming,” she said and she followed him from the room, throwing one final glance at Qelhatat, who had turned away and was staring up at the high window, as if lost in her memories.
Kiya and the God of Chaos Page 30
