Opener of the Sky

by Mary R Woldering

  It’s what the Children wanted all along. It’s why we were allowed to see Man Sun healing young Djee; why we could take part. It’s why they allowed themselves to be parted from each other and to make him a golden knife that grows rich with blood in the same way we do when we taste it, she sensed. He’ll be one of the wise, but this time the learned men of Kemet will respect him. He will open their hearts, so to speak. It will be so much more fitting than the image dressed in Marai’s lighter skin and eastern tongue. Marai is a foreign peasant. My Raem is a prince. He was born to the magic, the sorceries, and the wisdoms of his land.

  In her dreams, she saw legions of warriors, led by a wolf-headed god or carrying his standard on shield and flag.

  This time, it will work. I will be with him every step of the way. Something’s still wrong, though, her thoughts insisted. The transition still feels too wild, she sensed he had no desire to control the animal spirit raging in him. It’s not going restive.

  The spirit of the wolf-dog appeared to pace back and forth, uncomfortable in its human prison. Deka knew it sensed something. She was aware of it too, even though she tried to blot it out. Ta-Te was in the wind, and he was watchful.

  Deka watched Maatkare sense and learn the strengths and personalities of the stones as he moved his hands gently over them. He’d been much stronger today. His fever was gone and his wounds had healed with only a faint scar that had begun to fade into the luxurious brown color of the rest of his skin. His eyes brimmed with a light of ferocity that bordered on madness. As he continued to feign illness so he could study the stones in the seclusion of his tent, he and Deka heard men were talking about what had happened to their leader and what it meant.

  “It’s not right, what that woman is doing to him. She is using her heka to heal a man who should have died from infection. Those wounds were deep and no amount of fine suture could close those hurts!”

  That was the head physician.

  “His Highness would not wish to live a cripple. Hunting and warring is in his blood.”

  “Oh but he would let a sorceress fix him. This is a matter for the king to decide when we go north.”

  Those voices were the man next in line after Wuenre to be Captain of the Hunt and his Vizier.

  “Well you need to keep that thought to yourself around them. I think he would be best sending that woman back to the Akkad giant who was here and to those other women who went away with him.”

  “Ooh!” Deka squirmed, distracted from her study of his hands as they absorbed the reddish glimmer. “Raem are you hearing this?” she wondered why Maatkare wasn’t paying these suspicions any attention. “Should we make an example, beloved? Don’t let them have these thoughts of us! You should show your might to them.”

  His hand went up in the air as if he dismissed her thoughts. He never looked up from the box of stones, but quietly reassured her.

  “I hear them. As long as it’s talk alone, it’s not conspiracy. It shows they fear us, and from that comes respect. It will only increase their obedience once I am ready to show my might to them. If it becomes something else, I’ll deal with it.”

  For Deka, that was not reassuring. By evening, the murmurs had increased. She paced like a beast in a cage. From time to time she glanced at the prince, who still sat cross-legged on his bed and who had only infrequently looked up from the box of stones he studied.

  “Call a council. I want them to see I have recovered,” he suddenly spoke the evening of the second day. His voice was svelte and slippery, as if he was sleepy and meditative. It didn’t have a fierce and powerful sound. It wasn’t even growlish as she expected it would be, it was pleasant.

  “Something is wrong, beloved?” Deka frowned. “I think you chose the wrong stone.”

  “Really?” Maatkare leapt from his bed energetically, grabbing her by the waist and whirling her around. “Now why is that, Nefira Deka, Nnn?”

  “You…” she began, struggling a little. She didn’t recognize this playful creature in the tent who had taken harsh Maatkare’s place.

  Am too peaceful? he corrected her, then added aloud: “Perhaps they teach me where you cannot because of your own unquenched fire, eh? I know you. What could you possibly know of that subtlety which is in itself taming. Grandfather will indeed be impressed if I choose to let him know of this gift you have given me… out of your great love.”

  Deka sizzled inwardly at the resurgence of one of her fears – that he might have used her as a means to get the Children of Stone for Great Hordjedtef. She kept a calm face over her thoughts and handed him his khat, but noticed as he placed it on his head that his hair was puffier but still tightly curled enough to fit under his headgear. She saw him smooth his quickly darkening face, but decide a slight beard might be acceptable when...

  “Quick healing and now quick hair growth. My grooms will have to stay quite busy keeping me neat,” the prince commented.

  Deka felt his arm fasten and tug her outside the tent to the dais.

  “Men,” he stood and began to pace a little, giving a kick at the end of each row just before he turned. “I have recovered. Great Anhur has seen fit to preserve his scion and way-shower, and to heal him.”

  Deka felt his words rising through her in a different way. Now the force of his words caused her to tremble.

  “While I lay in misery from the harrowing battle with the wickedness sent by Apedemak Aker; in the form of a demon lion who forced me to sacrifice one of our own,” he paused.

  She saw the faces of the men, all rapt as if they had suddenly found something to worship instead of conspire about.

  I see how this works, she nodded.

  “While I lay facing my own death I sadly realized my mighty cousin His Majesty King and God Menkaure Khaket was passing by. We spoke…”

  Pauses at all the right places, like a rising king, Deka listened intently. She wondered if he truly felt any emotion at the death of the king or if his reactions were merely calculated to show him as a wounded-but-recovering son.

  “We will return to the North in some days, but we must make certain the borders are filled with secure guardianship. I am tasked to finish any business in the Wawat lands and then in Buhen and Qustul.”

  Deka ignored the rest of the conversation, distracted by the thought of the way the stones had reacted differently to him.

  As soon as the council finished and Maatkare dismissed the men to their evening patrols and duties, he took her back to the tent and began to study the stones again. As he sorted through them, a turquoise spark appeared at the tip of her fingers, guiding him. She thought of the differences between her beloved and Marai again.

  When Man Sun and Wise MaMa handle the stones, they turn silver and gold, or several shades running from blue to pink. Little One never touches them. Something has changed now that we have these. She sat beside the prince and encouraged him to explore the various stones. Even the sweet, ethereal voices she remembered hearing when the Children spoke had changed into low, half-chanted susurrations; as if they had adapted to their new host. The new sound they made resembled a strange invocation instead of children singing – It was darker.

  Eeen Nefira, Eeen Suenakhna… he repeated, over and over.

  She couldn’t dismiss the words as made-up gibberish anymore because she inwardly understood the language. Suddenly worried, she stayed his hand when he dug into the stones and let them flow through his hands like precious gems.

  This happened once. Someone was destroyed by this. Is it Ta-Te I remember? Is this why I hesitate?

  The blood-colored light spiraled up into him and through his eyes. It spattered him in a strangely lit, gory baptism. His look of exhilaration changed to one of horror mixed with delight as if he was swept up in a horrid storm.

  Too much, beloved… too much… she begged him to stop. Then, when she thought his heart would burst from the strain, he shrieked, cackled, wept, and fell into an exhausted slump over his own crossed legs.

  “Beautiful!
Beautiful, by all of the gods…” he whispered almost feverishly. “O you foul witch,” he tittered like a wild dog. Though his words degraded, they were filled with love, lust, admiration, and something even beyond that. “What have I let you do to me?” he cried, then extended his arms to embrace her.

  As if she had become an arrow fired from a bow, Deka scrambled into them. She tried to calm what she thought were agonized spasms of dread. Seizing his hands, she kissed his fingertips again and again.

  “I’m with you, my Wepwawet, my own lion Anhur. This is what you have always wanted. Grasp it. You open the way. You stand between worlds. Seize it and be mighty.”

  His arms surrounded her and although he kissed her naked breasts in unequalled passion, she noticed him tremble.

  CHAPTER 35: SETTLING IN TIME

  They lay in each other’s arms, stunned. Deka wept in joy as she and the prince caressed each other’s faces. Something in her memory had broken through both of them. Maatkare sensed it as all of her worries through the bond of their stones swept through him. Suddenly, he felt the urge to weep too.

  That had never happened when he lay with a woman. He wept in grief as a boy when he was forced to shoot the black hound, Raemkai. That had been the last of his sorrowful tears. When the woman who first touched his heart was killed, his tears had been in rage over her murder, not in her loss or even the loss of his child her husband ripped from her belly. He never met the girl he was supposed to marry for status, so he couldn’t even force his tears when she died. When his father and mother died he made some quiet tears form, but his grief was never deeper than his eyes.

  They had lived complete lives, so why would I sorrow over their passing?

  When his wife, the princess, was buried, he wept again in anger because it would be nearly impossible for him to ever be king. He made that look like sorrow too.

  A different feeling rippled through him tonight. It wasn’t sorrow or joy, but he still fought back tears and begged the gods that the woman didn’t see his emotion as some kind of vulnerability.

  Has my heart had been exploded? he asked himself as he lay panting and sighing. Feels like it’s melted in my chest and then that drifted like a pod of seeds about to take wind. Has it become part of her? Has she become part of me? I can’t allow that. I need to pull myself from this. I need balance.

  Tonight, he regained more than his health. He thought he had begun to understand the Ta-Seti woman Deka. He thought he had seen the odd dark power that formed around her while they were enjoying each other. It was like his dog form, but not as fully forming. Now that the green stone was in his brow he had seen the missing parts.

  He had envisioned Nefira Deka in a young, lithe form, standing high on a wall with a headdress like a strange upper lands crown: Tall white plumes issued from it, just as they did from the crown of Amun the creator. She drew a bow the length of her hard young body, demonstrating a skill for some great spiritual entity who stood behind her. His skin had an odd, deep red color that took on a black hue in some lights. Big red hands touched her arms lovingly. She whirled and danced.

  That spirit. I know who it is, but his name escapes me. I’ve felt him before. Maatkare remembered a study and trance when he had been in priestly training. He had toyed with a dark energy wave and wanted to make black lightning arc from his hands. His teachers, generally annoyed and suspicious of his tricks, had warned him about summoning such power.

  They didn’t want me calling the power into myself before I had controlled my rage and my inner disquiet. I never listened to those old men who claimed knowledge of the animal and the guidance of war spirit but knew nothing of the beast himself. I knew what I was doing. I was calling down Sutekh as the storm and the wind. I would open the sky for him so that he would lay waste to those who had saddened me. The king, the princess, Red Sister, Brown Eyes, and even you sweet Nefira. You, my grandfather, who wanted to kill me after Meryt died. I knew you alone could get me. I went into study. I hid myself in Sokor and in the temples in the city of the wolf until I was more of an opponent… so you’d think I was improving myself.

  Maatkare lay snuggling the Ta-Seti woman and thinking of a plan. No wisdom was needed; just timing. First things first, he would be the perfect noble at the funeral, appearing properly grief-stricken. He would discuss the matters with his grandfather and appear to be a staunch support to Shepseskaf and even to his poor cousin Wserkaf who was doubtlessly twisting in the wind now that his wife had been elevated as presenting sister and queen. He paused in his thoughts for a moment.

  No, Wse will have to be either kept at arms’ length or embraced so tightly he wouldn’t be able to flinch. I’ll ask the king to assign my return to the south, telling about the small uprising with Marai and this stonecutter. Once I am there, I will build, exert myself properly and march north.

  The implications were huge.

  He had been a man with no options other than time-wasting duty in peaceable lands. With a little more provocation, he knew he would be set up to usurp the throne in an excellent style.

  Maatkare felt the stone in his brow tweak a little. He reached his hand up to touch the place where it lay buried, then noticed Deka had fallen asleep over him. He wiped her tear-stained cheek, then stopped himself.

  This is foolish. I need to think and plan. The new plan would require much thought and organization. He sat up, gently easing her down, and noticed that it was already near day. I must have dozed longer than I thought, he heard the men already milling near the center of camp. I need to go outside for a few minutes to encourage them…

  When he slipped on his open kaftan, he felt what he assumed was a bead of sweat on the side of his head. He dipped his fingers in perfumed oil and raised them to smooth it, but his fingers paused. Hair. It should have been stubby and short… just a five day growth from the flat trimmed style he normally wore. He kept it close to being shaved, but had planned to let it grow a little for funeral purposes so he could place a “lock of sorrow” in the king’s tomb. It was supposed to be a tight curling tress about two fingers wide in length, when he pulled it straight.

  What madness is this? Better not be wolf tails growing on me. He whirled around, seized a mirror and groped at what felt like tight, short-sheared wool. The lamp lit reflection showed him the image of a smooth, curled cap of obsidian black tresses. He put the mirror down, patted it, and grew almost pleased. It was human hair and it felt good to touch.

  Maybe, when I ascend, I will start a style among manly men, if it continues to look good. Maybe I’ll have it grow chin length or shoulder length so I can braid it without yarn extenders. He chuckled as he thought of the wind in it as he ran, of women running their fingers through it when it was unfastened. The stone is doing this… and I feel good this morning. Teeth… he checked. His shiny doggy teeth were still there. He looked at his arms and saw that his skin was smoother. There was less body hair to shave and no scar at all from the wound he received from the lion. The thing in his head was improving him.

  He felt confused and childlike… almost happy. Still, it was time for his men to bathe him. He turned and lifted Deka into his arms, noticing once more how nice her body felt to him. For just that moment, he wondered if his having a stone would change the dynamics of his controlling form of lovemaking.

  I’ll work with it. Some things I’d rather not change though. You sleep, Nefira, and thank you for all. I can’t promise you how I will thank you, but you will be praised for doing this for me. He carried her to her secluded side of the tent, which had been re-assembled, set her down, and waved his fingertips over her in an enchanted whisper so she would stay asleep. Then, he poked his head through the tent flap and whistled for his grooms.

  The new captain went to fetch his grooms, but couldn’t stop staring back over his shoulder at the prince’s hair. Maatkare snickered at first, but then adopted a quiet and resolute face that implied he knew nothing at all had changed.

  During his bath and massage, he sensed the
thoughts of his grooms for the first time. The old sepat chief had handed them off to him when he first came through Qustul. He claimed they would be a good asset and no harm at all to him. When the rebellion had been stirred in the sepat, even though it was led by a deranged sojourner, he thought of making an example of them.

  That was why… I used them as punishers. But, they hadn’t hesitated or flinched. They worked excellently and without passion. He knew Deka read their thoughts, but for some reason he couldn’t read them. At first, he had assumed the men were not very intelligent with their hulking forms and shambling gait, and assigned them to be imposing looking guards. Very quickly, he learned that Rutiy and Sutiy, as Deka called them, were as quick as any of his men. They were excellent trackers and fighters in hand to hand battle. Something was still exceedingly strange about them when he sensed their thoughts.

  Do you see this? Lady Menhit does this to him. See her overtake him? It will be soon, one of them anticipated.

  No, he answered their thoughts. I can hear your thoughts now. For now, I am pleased.

  He silenced his own thoughts as they bathed him, and contemplated the reasons why men like his grandfather would go mad for the Ntr stones.

  The stones are god-makers. They enter the bodies of mortal men and women and transform them. I agreed to take these “Children of Stone” to the temple at Per-A-At. There, they could be used as intended. First, however, as I told the sojourner Marai, I will examine them. No… he paused as the men shaved his face. I will drag every bit of knowledge out of them myself. Nefira, because she saw me when I suffered… because I let her partway in… just opened the door for me, he mused. Suddenly, the thought came to him that if Hordjedtef got his wrinkled old claws on the stones, he could become young and pose a different threat; even a rivalry. Maatkare knew that at that point the Great One wouldn’t need him at all to fulfill his unrealized dreams. He decided to keep his thoughts quiet and let the men finish.

  After they dressed him in clean hunting gear, he rose and went to Deka. She lay sleeping sweetly on the spare pallet from her separate tent.