by Jonah Hewitt
Instead, he concentrated on the figure of the Chamberlain ahead of him. The Chamberlain was a fellow countryman for certain. He spoke the old tongue and wore the clothes common to his land, if in a more old-fashioned style. He wore a long, blue-black linen kilt, fastened just below the breastbone. It was a simple affair commonly worn by the priests of his age. It was just one, long bolt of cloth wrapped several times around the middle with the tail end thrown over one shoulder. No other garment was worn beneath it and the left breast was left bare. Here the Chamberlain bore a terrible black wound. It gaped like an empty well, but it was not a clean wound. It looked as if he had been stabbed in the heart with a hoe or other farm implement. He wore a broad collar of lapis and silver that was beautiful but simple. His feet were shod in simple, silver sandals adorned with the typical Ankh knots, the symbol of life. His arms were covered in tight linen wrappings, like a mummy. Silver finger coverings protected his fingers. Each was made to resemble the nails and first knuckles of each finger. Nephys had seen similar finger coverings in gold placed to protect the digits of deceased royalty. The Chamberlain had obviously been a high-ranking noble or official even in life. His head was shaved, like a priest’s head should be, and the upper part of his face was covered by a silver mask like a hawk’s beak. It was made in the image of the god, Horus: the far sighted one.
Even though it had the hawk god’s eyes, there were no eyeholes for the occupant. He obviously didn’t need them. He was as blind as everyone else here and judging from the way he spoke to Nephys without looking at him, his Death Sight could look straight through the back of his head.
The Chamberlain had led him from the innermost chambers of the Halls of Death, out past the other necromancers and into the outer halls. At first, Nephys had tried to use his natural eyes and stumbled and tripped until he remembered to use his Death Sight. His natural eyes had strangely worked in the antechamber of the Great Master, but out here in the halls themselves, they were useless. The Chamberlain eventually led him down a narrower causeway, away from the many mutilated attendants and bureaucrats, into what appeared to be more private rooms and studies. The longer they walked on in silence, the more nervous Nephys became. At last he decided to brave a question.
“Chamberlain?”
“Yes, Nefer?”
It didn’t bother Nephys much that the Chamberlain used the ancient form of his name. Nephys was just glad that his grandmother had insisted the old tongues should be spoken in his house or he wouldn’t have been able to understand the Chamberlain at all. In life, many of his cousins and neighbors only spoke Greek. The Chamberlain’s dialect was often formal and hard for Nephys to understand, and he worried that the Chamberlain might look down on his humble speech. Still, there were questions burning on Nephys’ tongue so hot that he couldn’t not speak them.
“I…I thought that I was supposed to see the Great Master?” He cringed after speaking, expecting some rebuke, but the Chamberlain replied in his usual impassive manner.
“The Great Master sees no one these days.” He paused for a moment. He didn’t turn but kept on walking forward. However, Nephys could tell that he was looking directly at him. The power of the Death Sight was so great with some souls that they didn’t even need to point their eyes at you to see you anymore. Many did anyway out of force of habit, but it wasn’t necessary. After regarding Nephys through the back of his head, the Chamberlain spoke again, “But such is the Great Master’s trust in his servants that whether you see him or his servants, it is the same.”
Nephys almost smiled in anxiety. It was definitely not the same. Though not entirely certain of his fate, Nephys much preferred to be following the Chamberlain than to be face to face with the beast he had seen earlier. Nephys couldn’t resist another question though, the minute he thought of the wheezing creature.
“Um…Chamberlain?”
“Yes, Nefer?” If the Chamberlain was annoyed or impatient he didn’t show the slightest trace of it.
“The Great Master…he seemed, that is…” Nephys struggled with how to say what he wanted to say. He eventually settled on, “The Great Master is very old, isn’t he?” That sounded more respectful than saying ‘sick’ or ‘feeble.’
The Chamberlain did not hesitate but tonelessly answered, “The Great Master was already old when the stars were new, young Nefer.”
“Oh,” Nephys replied. That really didn’t answer the question though. Nephys tried again. “It’s…um…Chamberlain,” Nephys bowed a little as he said this to look more deferential. “It’s just that he seemed…” Nephys chose the next word carefully, “um...weary.”
“Does that surprise you, young one?” the Chamberlain replied without emphasis.
As a point of fact it did surprise Nephys, but he didn’t know what to say. The Chamberlain took his silence as an answer.
“All who labor will tire eventually,” the Chamberlain said casually then paused.
“Oh,” Nephys replied, but he was as confused as ever. Against all good judgment he pressed on.
“Is that why? …um…Chamberlain?” He added his title hastily and bowed again to avoid offense. The bowing slowed him down and he had to skip again to catch up.
“Is that why what, Nefer?” the Chamberlain responded emotionlessly.
“Is that why he…um…the Great Master…Is that why he doesn’t see anyone anymore? Because of…his…his age?” Nephys asked hesitantly.
The Chamberlain walked on silently for a while before speaking, “It is not the years; it is the burden.”
This made little sense to Nephys, but he was so relieved that he didn’t have to get any closer to the Great Master than he had that he really didn’t question this.
The Chamberlain turned down a short aisle of columns and through a side door. This door was large but far closer to human scale than the others. However, unlike the other doors, which were just simple, unadorned rectangles, this one had lotus fretwork across the top and was surmounted by the winged sun disk, also marked with the triangle. Usually, the sun disk was flanked by the Uraeus – the cobra and symbol of life – but this one was flanked by the outstretched arms of the Ka sign – the sign of the life essence of the soul and mark of the necromancers. Nephys followed the Chamberlain in. It was like being in a large and elegant tomb from his own country. Nephys blinked and noticed that here he could see with his natural eyes unlike outside where he had to use his Death Sight. The columns were shaped with lotus capitals and the walls decorated with scenes from the life of Osiris: his dismemberment at the hands of Set and his rescue by the farsighted one, Horus. It was like his own tomb, only more lavish. It was beautiful. It felt…comforting, like returning home after a very long journey. Nephys only realized he was standing still and gaping in wonder at all this when the Chamberlain spoke.
“You really are from the Land of the Black Earth, aren’t you Nefer?” he said flatly. The Chamberlain had crossed over the chamber to an ebony table with many scrolls and small chests on it. The Chamberlain was obviously working on something. There was also a large balance scale, like the kind his grandmother said Anubis would use to weigh his heart, but instead of weights or coins the balance held tiny human figurines in blackened bronze. One tray of the balance was overloaded with so many figurines it was weighted down to the surface of the table, lifting the other nearly empty tray high into the air.
“Yes, Chamberlain,” he said hurrying over to where the Chamberlain stood. “I am from the Land of the Black Earth.” No one called it the Land of the Black Earth anymore, except maybe his grandmother. Even in Nephys’ time it had simply been “Aegyptus” for centuries.
“Yet you use the Greek form of your name. Why?”
“My…my Father was Syrian Greek, a Roman citizen…I think…Chamberlain.” Nephys only had the vaguest memories of his father. The Chamberlain betrayed no emotion, but Nephys suddenly worried if he might think less of him for not being full Egyptian. So he added another bow just to be extremely circumspect. The Cham
berlain just stood rigidly behind the table.
“I see,” he said at last, “But your mother was a daughter of the black land?”
“Yes…Chamberlain, a-and her mother as well.” For all his grandmother had taught him, he felt like he had to get that in. He owed her that much.
“Then you are my countryman as well,” he said simply. He reached down and picked up a small ebony box from the table and walked around to Nephys’ side. As he walked he spoke, “How did you die, Nefer?”
“Die?” Nephys reached up and touched the ragged slash across his throat. “I…I don’t really remember. I was at home…I think.” Nephys didn’t really know how he had died, he had just remembered waking up in the afterworld.
“Your father was an official? A centurion perhaps? Or a man of substance?”
Nephys shrugged. He hardly remembered anymore, but they weren’t poor or uneducated.
The Chamberlain walked up to him slowly and ran the tip of one silver finger covering over the edge of Nephys’ wound. “Thieves – thieves that steal in the dead of night or in the early morning before dawn. Their kind existed in even the best times, but even they will meet the same fate. None escape the Great Master.” His voice seemed tinged with some subtle form of regret mixed with malice – the only real emotion that the mouth under the mask betrayed.
He composed himself and continued, “I died in the time of Djoser, a good ruler, a just and wise man. Our nation prospered under his watch. I have watched our people from this side for many centuries. I saw them rise to heights I could not imagine. They were wise and just and good and loved beautiful things and wisdom more than anything. There were troubled times, of course, but they outlasted them and reigned for more than a thousand years. It gave me hope. I began to believe that some things could last. Then came the Assyrians and the Babylonians and the Persians and the Greeks and then the Romans and others – raiders and invaders, pillagers and thieves all.” He paused directly in front of Nephys. He was very tall and towered over him. “Now no one worships the gods of the black land anymore. Do they?” He paused again.
Nephys wasn’t certain if the Chamberlain wanted an answer, but he finally felt the need to say something, “No…no they don’t…Chamberlain.”
The Chamberlain’s mouth, which was the only part of his face that Nephys could see, moved slightly, as if he meant to smile, but then he suppressed it. Nephys thought he saw a sharp tooth for a moment. “But then they were never gods to begin with, were they?”
Nephys had no idea what to say to this, so he said nothing. He stood there silently with the box in hand for what seemed like an eternity before speaking again.
“But our people’s fall taught me a lesson. It taught me that hope is a delusion. I learned that the only true comfort is to accept things as they really are.”
“As they are?” Nephys asked, confused. “Chamberlain,” he suddenly remembered to add while bowing.
“Yes, Nefer. The truth is that all must end in death and blood.”
Nephys swallowed hard, but the Chamberlain wasn’t finished.
“But while we can, we must save as much of life as is possible.”
He held the small box flat in the palm of one hand and removed the lid with the other.
“Tell me, Nefer. What do you see?”
Nephys peeked into the box. It was full of unremarkable glassy pebbles. All of them were more or less the same size, small and of a rough, unhewn rounded shape. They were nearly identical except that one near the bottom was glowing brightly with an unbelievable light. It was cool and bright, just as Maggie had described it, and seeing it again he suddenly had visions of palm groves and banks of reeds where they would hunt ducks and of fields of new barley. It all came flooding back and more. His grandmother’s necklace had an emerald, his uncle’s shield was painted the same color and so were the walls of his room. Once he saw it, a whole universe of memories came back to him, as if he lived his whole short life again in that instant, from the moment of his first steps to the time of his…he reached his hand up to his throat.
It was green. He knew it was green. He could see the color vividly, both before him and in his mind. And it wasn’t just green, all the other colors came back too: purple, yellow, blue and carnelian, ivory and rosewood and saffron – vivid and intense like an overflowing spice market.
He saw other things too. Strange things he had never seen before: a large house of brick and white stone columns in a green wood. Maggie was there and so was the Chamberlain, only it wasn’t Maggie and wasn’t the Chamberlain. It made no sense. And a girl. He saw a girl with glorious green eyes in strange purple clothing adorned with unusual representations of the goddess Bastet, each with enormous eyes like Horus, and each wearing crowns and resting on fat pillows.
He looked away. It was too intense, like standing next to a fire, not the cool blue fires of Limbo but an actual roaring fire like in the real world, and he instantly remembered the fires from his life where they would roast calves outside his home. In the midst of these visions he only just realized that the Chamberlain was still waiting for an answer. He panicked.
“I…I see a box of glassy pebbles, Chamberlain.”
The Chamberlain did not react at all but said simply, “And is not one of them different from its brothers?”
Nephys cringed in horror. He knew. He knew everything. Yet the way he had phrased this question was merciful. It gave Nephys a second chance. He took a breath and calmed himself.
“Yes, Chamberlain. One is different.”
“Can you show it to me?”
Nephys slowly reached in and pushed aside the remaining glassy stones to find the scintillating stone he now knew was an emerald at the bottom of the box. As he touched it, he saw all the visions again, only more quickly and more vividly. The stone was warm and seemed to fill his body with warmth – traveling from his fingertips to his very bosom. As he drew it slowly out of the box, he could see that its light was illuminating his hand. His hand no longer looked blue and pallid. He could see the green light, but underneath it his hand looked olive in tone, like his flesh had been in life. He held up the stone and marveled at it. It didn’t just cast a green color to everything, but seemed to give new color and life to everything in its light. He passed the stone around the room. In its light the murals that were once blue and white and black were transformed to green and warm-brown flesh tones, with clothes both brilliant white and purple. Again the Chamberlain had to interrupt his revelation.
“That is correct.” The Chamberlain almost seemed to smile, and Nephys thought he saw a sharp tooth slip over his lower lip again but only for an instant. The Chamberlain closed the box and put it back on the table. He held out his cupped hand. “May I?” The Chamberlain spoke deferentially to Nephys even though he was but a scribe. Nephys reluctantly relinquished the stone into the Chamberlain’s outstretched hand. The Chamberlain’s hand closed on the stone, and the magical color-restoring light disappeared, returning the room to its usual monochromatic tones.
The Chamberlain held the stone tightly in his hand and walked away slowly, turning his back to Nephys, but Nephys could tell he was watching him with his Death Sight right through the back of his head.
“Do you know what this is, Nefer?”
Nephys ventured a guess. “It’s an emerald?” he answered nervously.
“Yes,” the Chamberlain replied flatly. “And more. All of the stones in that box are emeralds, Nefer. All of them have lost their color – but not this one – at least not to you. This stone is very special.”
He wandered over to the murals and examined the one of Osiris being dismembered by his brother. He crossed one arm across his chest and then rubbed the fingers of the other hand near his face. “I have known this stone since I was a young man not much older than you are now. When I first came to Limbo many millennia ago I could see the color of this stone just as I could see the color of this mural. But now, they are all lost to me. I knew even then that I was losing
my natural vision and resisted it as long as I could, just so I could enjoy the stone’s light, but the Death Sight is irresistible.” Nephys looked down. He certainly understood that feeling. “It’s purity, its clarity, its sense of detachment. The Death Sight is the only thing that can make one see reason or purpose in this place. So, finally I embraced it and lost the ability to see the stone’s true color.” The Chamberlain expressed almost no emotion, but for a moment it almost sounded as if he were regretful.
He paused, then turned and spoke to Nephys directly, “But before I did, I rolled this stone over countless times between my fingers.” He opened his hand and the light of the stone seemed to flood the room with more intensity than before. He rolled the small gem between his thumb and forefinger. “I held it in my palm and scrutinized it endlessly. I memorized every surface, every flaw and every imperfection, every subtlety, so that when I could no longer see its real hue, I would still know it.” He walked across the room back towards Nephys.
The Horus mask covering the Chamberlain’s face with its large falcon eyes stared directly at him. “And now that I can no longer see its vivid green color, now that the very word green is just an abstraction to me, I still know that it is this stone that is unique, and I can tell it from all the others by feel alone. At times I doubted my ability or my resolve to remember this, yet I would open the chest and examine the stones and instantly know which one was the stone just by its shape. And you, Nefer…” Nephys had been staring at the stone this whole time, but as the Chamberlain said this, his vision snapped back to the large falcon eyes of the mask. “You alone of all those residing in Limbo, are the only one who can still see it.” He held the stone up between two fingers as if to drop it. Nephys quickly realized he meant to give it back, and he awkwardly cupped both of his hands underneath it.
