“His Eye of Truth, which he usually wore, is also here. He wants it back,” Marai mumbled, then sat with such force that the cane chair creaked mightily under his weight.
“You mean the Eye of Truth which he allowed to be taken from him by the woman Ariennu. Had he truly valued that gift which his own mother gave him, he would not have given it up so lightly. Rumor has it he was under an enchantment, however. Grandfather and I both thought he was above such mortal temptations, but then I heard the tale he had bounced up your youngest one’s skirt quite a few times until Princess Khentie resented the crowd and put her out.” He smirked, as if he enjoyed watching Marai squirm, as he told the tale. “I found her a worthy bedmate until this one here began to exert herself a little more,” he pointed to Deka. His thoughts shifted back to Marai and he waited, stopping to savor the beer and nod about its quality when it was presented. He gave Deka some of it and then offered the sojourner the third cup.
Marai fought the urge to slap the cup out of the prince’s hand and then let enough dark lightning loose to sanitize the entire camp. He took a deep, but invisible calming breath and reached for the drink, knowing the time stop over Djerah’s life and suffering had begun to slip. Thoughts of Djerah suffering in the women’s tent flooded his heart with such power that Marai winced in a kind of shared misery. The stonecutter was choking and sucking at nothing but the fluids that filled his lungs.
I am here for you, Djee. Be strong. Seize your life. Don’t let it go.
Maatkare continued speaking. “So, your mission was to bring the Ntr stones to the priests. If I am not the one you like, name him. We are all in the same royal brotherhood. I promise you upon my own damnation to the belly of Ammit that I would get them to whichever priest… in time.”
Marai knew the prince was delaying and ignoring his interest in the other tent, but understood the exchange was making the young general uncomfortable when he noticed the mouth twitch under the dismissive smile and his hand straying to Deka’s hand again.
“I will, of course, be within my rights to carefully examine them,” Maatkare paused, trying to study Marai’s discomfort a little longer. “Something else makes you sweat in misery, though.” his fingers drummed on the armrest of his folding chair. “I believe it’s the suffering of the one the women called Djee? You sense it, as do I, but I’m afraid he’s finished. Even if you had gone straight to their tent before you met with me, you would have accomplished nothing. I had no choice, you see. When a man or group of men come hot into my camp there can be only one answer, and that’s death. Even if that man is a kinsman the answer is always the same. Death. It’s young Naibe’s fault that he still lives and suffers so much. I would have ended him but for her pulling him away before the killing blow.”
Marai sighed, nerveless. Everything is true, he thought. Naibe should have let the prince release Djerah. He ached for her. She thought the Children of Stone might save him, but there’s too much injury. He’ll never be right unless we can get him all the way into the wilderness and inside the Children’s vessel and he will certainly die we can make that journey. He looked into the princes’ eyes once more and pushed the image of Naibe and Ariennu through his thoughts.
Maatkare smirked again, haughty but clearly tiring of the conversation.
“As for you taking the women back. That’s complicated,” he glanced briefly at Deka; self-assurance on his face. “As your concubines, you being deemed a criminal, they were caught in the same unfortunate fate.”
“Wrong,” Marai grumbled about to leap on the prince over the insult. “They were successful at the market; they made things and sold them. They had a means of surviving me. They were denied their work.”
Maatkare pursed his full lower lip and steadied his gaze into Marai’s open, but irritated expression again.
“Hmm. I heard them mention that; spice sales and candied fruit? Red Sister selling unlicensed women’s medicine and yet no record of them as guest workers ever existed or came to our eyes until the Inspector was sent on mission. My grandfather mentioned to me that their employer had recently left town rather than face additional tribute charges for using unregulated workers.”
“We paid tribute and even made gifts. What concern of His Majesty’s was that?” Marai bent further forward in an attempt to keep his hands in his lap.
“Manners, Sojourner Marai. Hear the rest of my story.”
Marai shut his eyes and shook his head slightly. I’m listening and counting the moments ‘til I can open hand you, you pompous fool.
“Are you now? Death wish, then?” the prince spoke his own thoughts in response and seamlessly went on with his explanation.
“My grandfather had your ‘widows’ gathered to face justice as potential spies for some interest, but when he saw they were both good to behold and apparently skilled in the gentler arts, he offered them to our wondrous Menkaure as possible servants. Soon enough, though, some amount of treachery was discovered. I had already chosen this lovely one, so she asked that I take them with her rather than banish them into the wilderness.” The prince took up Deka’s hand again and kissed it, then pulled her close for a kiss on the mouth. “Forgive my rudeness… but she is lovely isn’t she? Hard to resist when one knows how to handle a woman properly.” The prince looked at Marai with one eye while he kissed.
The sojourner knew that look was an implied insult about his lack of bed skills, but he quickly dismissed it.
“As for my being a criminal, my Lord Highness…” Marai spoke with all of the sarcastic gentleness he could still muster. “My crime was merely that of bringing the Children of Stone to Kemet and in return seeking the unlocking of the knowledge they placed in me.”
“And that fell apart. You are now no better than an outcast. Your man greets death and now you have come to take the women back from me?” Maatkare smirked, apparently enjoying the spiritual dagger he was turning.
“I have. And when I have them, I’ll be no more trouble to anyone else in your hierarchy. I have learned over many years not to linger where I am unwanted,” Marai sat forward again, head bowed and elbows on his thighs. This isn’t going to work, he felt his face darken in rage, but knew he had begun to project the image of the black face, the pale hide and the white-silver hair with extending horns – an image of the bull. There, you decorated beast, see just a little of me start to come forth.
Through his own reddened stare, he saw Maatkare tense as if something bothered his arms and migrated to form as a lowing sound in his ears. He released Deka for a moment and tucked his middle fingers into his palm to form a defensive gesture against the negative energy he felt.
Sorcery. Damned sacrilege is what it is. The prince’s eyes glimmered a little as Marai felt him scramble for the spiritual upper hand over someone who was evidently invoking a major god in the blink of an eye. Try to come at me as Atum. You dare!
Marai knew he had found the way in, but the prince’s thoughts still opened for him:
Heka. Finally, it comes. Serves me right for poking him. I’m getting tired of the day anyway, but he tempts me. Maatkare cleared his throat and spat slightly, indicating he had deflected the psychic assault.
“Bakha Montu, not Atum, or so your grandfather told me,” Marai corrected, noticing the greenish glimmer in his younger foe’s eyes and that the points of side teeth now indented his lower pout. Wolf-dog, he thought. Wrong match for a bull, but a nasty fight if he keeps low to the leg.
“Still... I have cared for these women, under the knowledge that they were gifts to me, and to eventually become esteemed servants and concubines if they weathered this journey. I could give you two of them back, maybe… if you pay me for their care.” The prince turned his left hand from the self-protective gesture and opened it with a magical flourish, revealing the pale, crescent-shaped stone, then sent one of Deka’s grooms into his tent. While he waited, he held the stone up to the sun that filtered through the afternoon haze. A ray of light formed and cascaded down to Marai in the
chair at the bottom of the dais.
The sojourner’s heart sank. The little ‘Yah’ stone verified everything he had sensed earlier about the battle, the capture, torture, and death when he felt its gentle glimmer. He saw how Deka’s face, emotionless at first, had grown haunted as she watched; how it seemed to find its own beautiful but dreadful peace. He saw the way she resisted the taste of the blood, but eventually began to welcome the ritual. Marai bowed his shining head when he felt Naibe’s distress that caused her to drag Djerah from death. He was unashamed of the tears of rage and frustration that ran down his cheeks.
“You’re angry.” Maatkare guessed Marai had seen everything in the stone. “You’ve seen through this little stone like an eye of memory, haven’t you?” he sat up in his seat a little, checking Marai’s demeanor. “You want to kill me, but I think the Ntr in these pieces don’t want you to. I see this war going on behind your eyes and now you weep like broken-hearted child.”
Marai wanted the prince dead. He didn’t want any spectacular bloodshed. Allowing him the dignity of a fight, even an unfair one, like the one the Children of Stone had given the thieves in the wilderness was too good for this prince. The sojourner wanted to look up in moments, see Deka by herself, know Maatkare was suddenly without substance and that demons had dragged away his screaming soul.
Maatkare turned the stone over in his hand, studying it once more. Fascinated, he almost lost himself in the trance-like feeling its soothing glow projected over him. He held it up to the light, seeing if the sun could amplify its power.
“I know this thing has its own strange heka and is a companion to the others I have already as well as seven more,” he looked straight at Marai with eyes so calm they seemed almost asleep. “If I were to send the two women back to you, provided they still want to go back to a life of no promise and likely as exiles, would you be willing to instruct me in their use?”
Marai’s heart leapt out of the pit into which it had fallen a moment before. He’s bright, but still woefully stupid if he thinks heka is all I am capable of. The opportunity for revenge suddenly stared him in the face and the prince had just dared ask for the tools to inflict it on himself.
The groom returned from the royal tent. He carried a beautiful ebony box inlaid with ivory, red, gold leaf and turquoise paste work. Sighs from the Children of Stone flooded Marai’s heart, even before the prince opened the box.
When he did, Marai knew the small white Yah stone in Maatkare’s hand must have twitched sharply because his hand jumped and he dropped it in the box with the others. Sorrow, tenderness, and soothing chased by a thousand thoughts swarmed over each other, like bees in a hive, lamenting the distress of one of their own as its story was transmitted. While Marai welcomed the sensation, his senses told him the prince had hardened his own heart instinctively.
Go to his thoughts. Shame him, Marai suggested.
In an instant the Children took the lead and the prince’s psyche was filled with an outpouring of the women’s sighs. They roamed his soul, circling like demons, and tried to draw it out.
Exiles. I doubt that, Marai thought to himself. Obvious he doesn’t know what’s happened in Ineb Hedj; that his influence may be all but… he checked his thoughts against the questioning glance the prince gave him.
We are always part of you, Man of Ai
Even parted, we are soul and spirit of you
The children in the box, together with the Yah and even those secretly in the bag at his waist chorused. He knew what they were telling him to do.
I’m sorry, little ones. This is it, then. I have to say goodbye for now, even though I haven’t greeted most of you in so very long. No more, Marai told his stone and through it, the rest of the stones. Although every instinct told him to disobey, he quieted his rage, unfastened the pouch at his belt and emptied the seven stones into the palm of his hand.
“There. These are the other ones you and Great One have sought,” he felt the ache, as the seven remaining stones sensed the presence of the others in the nearby box. The building harmonic chorus of the stones swept through both men. Marai patted them gently, placed his hands on them and felt the light and warmth travel up his arms. He quietly emptied the stones into the box with the others laying his hands on all of the Children of Stone at once, waiting to see if they objected.
I have to feel your sweet music one more time. He smiled, but felt Deka gasp slightly. He knew she understood what he was doing. Just in case, he glanced into her eyes and sent her the silent message.
Take care of them. Be the link I need between us, the trust I won’t forsake. You know you and I are bound as long as we both shall live.
The prince’s eyes narrowed; shocked that Marai was prepared to let the remaining stones go so easily. He shot a glance at the woman beside him and waited for a trap to spring.
We are now for each other,
the Children repeated to each other and to Marai.
“I’ll let you use them, learn their knowledge, if they wish to teach it to you. You can’t force them to do it. Not even I can do that. Just give me what I need.” He removed his hands from the box and returned to his seat even though he didn’t want to sit below the prince or look at his evil-sweet expression another instant. The dark energy had returned to gnaw at his thoughts just as strongly as if the prince had sent a silent and provoking utterance.
Man-Sun. Wait. Don’t leave me. I…
A quiet and tentative prayer of a voice entered his thoughts. Deka was in anguish.
Shhh. No, I forgive you, woman. Just understand what I am asking of you. He sent back the thought to her semi-privately, hoping the glamour of the Children of Stone would keep Maatkare distracted enough to miss what he had sent her.
“I’ll tell you this, though,” Marai added. “You may take them now and you may try to use them for a while, but they cannot and will never belong to you. You will find their ‘power’ limited, even once you understand them. They are only keys to the mysteries. They will lead you to these hiding places if, and only if, they decide you are worthy. Otherwise, they can and will destroy all that you hold dear. Once these places are found, you must work with them as they intend, not as you may like. Make no mistake, Highness. You have already ignored their many warnings.”
Maatkare’s expression reflected his interest, layered over by astonishment that a sojourner was actually speaking from below him as if he was equal or superior.
“The storm?” the prince dismissed with a snicker. “Oh, I don’t think so. Or was it you running up here to challenge me, balls blazing, and then not finding you had enough to do so?” He snapped the box containing the Children of Stone shut and waited for an answer.
After a moment of choosing his next words carefully, the sojourner answered
“If it had been my own will, you would have died in agony before you ever saw my face and your esteemed grandfather have suffered a worse fate the hour I learned what had happened. Deka knows this, but may deny it in her heart. So does Ari and Naibe. That either of you are still breathing is only on the whim of these Ntr.” Marai frowned, then closed his eyes. He felt Djerah’s intense pain cease and subside into numb shock as the young man slipped from life at an increasing speed.
Then…
Houra, Marai sensed his sister’s spirit nearby. As a little girl. Her smiling half-shy scamper flitted behind him to the tent and back. She poked at him, showing off the toy he’d made for her over seventy years ago. The ghost of the little girl shrugged, then slipped back to the tent.
He knew why. She’s come to guide her great-grandson and here I am dealing with a devil I’d be better shed of.
“On your return to Ineb Hedj, Prince Wserkaf will take them from you,” Marai announced. He looked helplessly in the direction of the tent. Little Houra flirted and waved at him.
“Oh,” Maatkare mused, then suddenly snickered as if he knew how badly the sojourner wanted to get up and that he wasn’t going to permit it. “I see how this works,” h
is pointed teeth flashed. “It’s numbers. Threes. You chose three women. One of them, thinking you dead, chose me. Another picked my ever fickle elder cousin. I have absolutely no doubt they will gain some confidence in me in time. I believe I too am being chosen,” he nodded knowingly at Deka.
“So you think you know?” Marai began to get to his feet, despite the prince’s objection. “That it’s a choice the same way kings are chosen? If you think that, then maybe you also know that the Akaru of Qustul was chosen by the Children of Stone many years ago on the very same night I was chosen and that plans were made for one more of Great Djedi’s choosing. Your grandfather believed he was the one as Djedi had trained him and he cared for him in his death. He still believes it is true and has not stopped in his efforts to get them. Why do you think he even told you of them?”
“Sit back down,” Maatkare ordered. “I have not given you permission to go. How do I know these stones have more power than their use as focusing tools? I’ve seen some things and sensed a few others. Show me something new,” the prince changed his mind again and warned, “I don’t want to see a court entertainer’s illusion. I want to see something impressive. I want to know for myself why grandfather considers you or any of this worth so much of his trouble.” The prince quickly peeked into the glimmering box one more time, stood and beckoned his guards.
“Then allow me to go see the others, before I decide to go in spite of you. I have a man to snatch from the jaws of death”
“You think…” Maatkare growled, starting to scramble to his feet.
Marai stared down at the prince without sitting.
“I know. I doubt you can stop me without calling all of your men and then it will just be bloodier than you like,” he sent the image of his single-handed defeat of the group of N’ahab’s thieves in the wilderness on his first day away from the Children of Stone’s vessel. “I could have decided to see my ladies and young Djerah before I saw you, but I gave in to the wish of the Children’s wish to at least announce myself.” He turned toward the tent, but heard a scuffle and the “thap” sound of an arrow striking the folds in his cloak. It clattered to the brick surface of the dais.
Opener of the Sky Page 31
