Naibe knew the king was trying to comfort her, but was also attempting to shield his own heart. When she felt the conflict, it made her fresh tears and sobs begin again. Her thoughts filled with bitterness at the condescending way the high priest had spoken of Marai. Now the king spoke about her beloved too.
“Ah, but I have seen such a thing, Uncle,” she felt the king bow his head to hers again. “Sometimes the most comely of all, like this one here, are smitten beyond words by the villain or the madman. The dear daughter out of my body…” he began, but succeeded in making himself thoroughly miserable. In a moment, he looked at the inspector, politely. “I can’t accept her like this, though she is honey-sweet,” he helped the young woman stand and guided her back to Wserkaf. “Take her into your own home. Perhaps she might serve there until she comes to her senses. Our kindest Khentie will tell me when she is ready to move on.” The king then turned and accepted yet another cup of warm wine from the old man, because the tea had not rid him of his own sadness.
Wserkaf bundled Naibe into his arms and hushed her tears a little bit. After a while, he carried her to his sedan chair. The inspector knew she would find peace enough to heal at his estate. His beloved wife, Princess Khentkawes, was an excellent counselor. She would be more than glad to help her and to ease young Naibe’s sorrow. It would be restful and easy for her, and there would be no demands on her. The inspector knew he owed that much to Marai. He had tried to save the big, mysterious Akkad sojourner who wanted to learn the mysteries once and he had failed in that task. Maybe through this broken young woman, he could redeem himself and begin to release his guilt over the lies about Marai and the nature of Children of Stone he had blindly supported. As they sat for more of the evening and he comforted her as the king had, Wserkaf only hoped that Naibe would be willing to accept his help and might be able to again find some of the happiness she had shown in the presence of her beloved Marai.
CHAPTER 8: VISIONS AND MEMORIES
How long? Marai wondered.
He had spent an unfathomable amount of time lost in a place below his deepest and quietest thoughts. He would have forgotten he was ever alive if the occasional pang of discomfort has not disturbed him. When the dull pain subsided, Marai wondered if he had actually died. By accident, at some point, he had managed to raise himself to a state of semi-consciousness. Aware of his body for the first time, the sojourner had felt desperately ill, shaking, and weak. The poison had passed, but it had wracked his body beyond any torments he had ever experienced. Quickly seeking the solace of unconsciousness, he resolved to return only when he was stronger. This happened soon enough and the result was always the same.
Every time he allowed himself to drift up into this semi-awakened state, he recited the prayers of the ritual to himself; his mouth and throat were too dry to make any noise. He could not see, either as his eyes had long crusted shut with the tears of agony from the poison. In the ceremony as it should have been, he knew the candidate was to rise and release anxiety he had encountered in his dreams. This was so the misery of the three-day procedure wouldn’t kill him. A long time ago, although he couldn’t remember who it had been anymore, someone had told him about this technique. It was designed so that an attendant in the tomb could watch and monitor the aspirant’s progress in the ritual entombment. In his state, Marai regarded his risings and recitations as a last, small hope. Nothing was as it should have been.
No one’s here to watch over me. I know that. I took Prince Hordjedtef’s poison with my eyes open. I knew this ‘ritual’ was nothing but a sham from start to finish. At least, perhaps, they don’t know that I know it, he thought in the silence of the calmer moments in his own mind. The rite had violated every principle of truth and wisdom he could even imagine. Is Goddess Maat asleep, or is she truly on the side of protecting the wisdom of Kemet from outsiders and sojourners? All of this they did to me is ten times more sacrilegious than anything they accused me of doing. I am so sick. They should have come, but no one has. They won’t return for me. Someone promised to, but who was it?
The first evening he had been entombed, Marai had sent a thought to someone. Oh the inspector priest, he remembered, yes. I told him I survived. I have to try again. Wserkaf… Wseriri… Were you coming to check on me? Was I wrong? The old man didn’t turn you again, did he? he implored the ether in the hope that his thought would reach the inspector-priest. Maybe I’m wrong about the time passing. Maybe it hasn’t been more than a few hours in this cursed stone box and this is still the middle of the first night. Wserkaf will come. He is a man of his word. He’ll get to me, I’m sure. So hard to know these things.
His urge to escape… to somehow turn on his side so he could worm his legs into a bent position then turn again to press his feet against the lid, never stayed in his thoughts long enough for the action to become more than a flight of fancy. The sojourner imagined he had tried that, and failed, many times. Sometimes he thought he had only dreamt of doing this, because he knew it was impossible to push the lid up and off of the box even with his superior strength. Something magical began to happen after several tries. Each time the sojourner willed something, he became part of whatever he willed. He sensed all things and became part of everything he knew. It’s so hard to know what I am now… what I am not… where I am… Is it Kemet or the Sin-Ai wastes? It’s so beautiful, everything passing through me… and I, a part of all. I am spirit, not ghost, not flesh. I am the face of god. She flows through me. There is no need to go forth by day. I am at peace. I am one.
Marai vaguely remembered this same sort of oneness had come to him on the Children’s vessel that had come down years before in the wilderness near his childhood home. Somehow, he had forgotten most of what he saw or felt until now. Once he woke from his ‘sleep’ on the crystalline vessel, the dream world quickly became a vague and fleeting memory. It was as if he was forbidden to remember such illuminating and wondrous sights. He knew them once again. The doors of the secret places of thought and will were open to him now.
This time, Marai understood so much more of what had happened to him when he slept before. Most of the images in his dreams the first time had been lulling and gentle; something to observe and learn. The second time, when the women were healed and reformed, the images had been about them and how he might best go from the life of a solitary hermit to a man who would take three women as wives. He wondered for only an instant if the Children were directing his visions and memories. If they are not, have I been asleep while I live my life, with those actions the true dreams? Is what I am and see now, my reality? So I exist at all? Am I a giant god’s tear? A mist of another dreamer’s memory?
Random images flickered through Marai’s thoughts and filled his body with light. A woman stood and beckoned to him. Her face was obscured by a veil. She shrank through herself and became a little girl again. A faceless demon’s hands reached from behind a curtain to touch her and then to fondle her. The vision repeated through his expanded thoughts again and again as if it was on a seamless loop of rope. He tried to blot it from his thoughts. He had never possessed the madness of desiring a child, so he wondered why the nightmare pursued him. Whenever other visions had become too peaceful, evil scenes like this struck a balance. He became light, but the light was tempered by darkness. The image of the man behind the curtain became the darkness that had perched on Deka’s shoulders when the inspector first visited them.
Deka. Something’s happened to Deka while I am part of this world. He remembered she told him the creature on her back that afternoon had been dark, red, and giant. She confessed she belonged to that creature and that it had comforted her at first. Was this the god who had rejected the Ta-Seti woman that Naibe had seen? Why was it part of his dream? As he looked closer, he saw that the demon had his face. The woman in the veil was Houra, then Ilara, then Naibe-Ellit, Deka, and finally Ariennu. No! He cried, wondering how such a cruel image could even be part of him. Marai convulsed at the thought. Deka called me Man-Sun, but s
he was looking for someone else; someone much more cruel and dangerous wasn’t she? A sick feeling filled him that the women teetered on the brink of disaster.
Why can’t I see them? he asked, creating his own memory-vision of their happy apartment in Little Kina-Ahna and becoming part of it. Where is Etum Addi and his family? Why can’t I see everyone working at the market, selling spice, or doing household tasks and tidying our home? Was I right to think I would not see him again when I left? Why can’t I even dream of them as they sleep?
He knew he had to try again. He had tried, and failed, so many times before when he called out to them. Maybe this time. Try again! his thoughts rang. He imagined that if he had been out of his trance he might have gritted his teeth hard enough to break them at his effort. We’ve had a not-bad life together, my beautiful ones! He thought in a disheartened whisper, not knowing if his message had reached his loved ones.
Ari, Mad Red Ari, as tall as the sky, who wove the clouds about her breasts and rainbows into her hair appeared in his thoughts, bent to him and whispered sweetly:
I’m your secret keeper. One day I’m gonna unlock the rest of this thing the Children started with us. I might not look the same… be the same… Her belly churned like the goddess of creation, birthing out her varied shapes and colors from so many different times, only to suck all of them back into herself until they lay superimposed on her basic form, giving her extra arms and heads.
A monster is coming for me. He’s hidden in the dark, Marai cried out in his thoughts as he sensed another nightmarish vision beginning. Longing for the comfort of his beloved ones, he whispered to them to keep the nightmare at bay as long as he could. If this is it. If I die here and I will never touch you again, I will return in another shape. I think I’ll always find you, no matter what your shape or condition, or if, when we meet, you even believe me anything but mad. And on that day when we meet again, our hearts will smile and say: Yes, I knew you well, my love. Yes, I knew you well!
CHAPTER 9: “A CURSE BE ON YOUR HOUSES!”
Prince Wserkaf, Lord Inspector of the Ways, saw the king sigh. He knew the man was visibly shaken by something he had sensed from the youngest of the sojourner’s wives when she sat on his lap. Wserkaf, as well as every man in attendance, knew the importance of keeping the great man’s emotions uplifted at all times. King Menkaure was the living manifestation of a god. Now, despite the free flowing wine and beer, the nice music, the dancing, and the beautiful women in attendance, the girl’s plight had turned everything sideways.
As soon as he had returned the girl to the inspector’s arms, King Menkaure quickly sent for his attendants. They usually played games of chance outside the gates during the gathering; it was not for them. The king complimented his elder uncle, Count Prince Hordjedtef, on an interesting evening, and quickly left for his palace. Once Menkaure had departed, Prince Wserkaf saw the count welcome his countesses into the common area again for a light dessert and some relaxing tea.
The elder turned his back on his assistant and on the young woman as if they had suddenly vanished from his plaza. The old high priest wanted both of them gone as soon as possible. In case there was any doubt, the inspector sensed a bitter thought sent his way. Get that bottom-feeding wretch out of here, Wse. Throw her into the damned road before she weaves a spell on you that grips you fast and strangles your heart until it bursts this time!
Wserkaf, who had been cradling Naibe in his arms, rocked her like a poor, suffering child for a moment. He knew the brusque treatment was due to the old man’s embarrassment over the girl’s rejection of him, even though in all seriousness he hadn’t truly desired her. “I understand, Great One,” he nodded, responding aloud to his senior’s silent request. “I’ll keep her over the night in accordance with Our Father’s desire,” he secured the young woman more carefully in his arms. “Bless this night and the stars above us,” he whispered, then turned and carried her to his sedan chair. For only a moment, he waited for his bearers to assemble. While he watched the men get into position near the door, he noticed that the elder priest ignored him and continued to chat gaily with his countesses and their servants about the success of the evening.
“No,” the young woman he knew as Naibe-Ellit suddenly gasped and stammered.
Wserkaf startled at the outburst and almost lost his grip on her.
She began to struggle when she realized he had carried her out of the estate courtyard to his waiting sedan. “No. Please, don’t take me! Haven’t you done enough to me already? Leave me. Just let me find my own way across the river,” she protested.
“Shhhh…” the inspector tried, holding her fast on his chest. Once they were seated and the bearers had raised them to the standard shoulder height, he gently stroked her shoulder. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Not tonight, not any night, unless you wish it,” he whispered. Wserkaf had hoped this would reassure the girl, but as the bearers moved away from the estate and down the path, the she cried even more heartily.
“He said that. He said that,” the inspector heard Naibe mumble against his chest. As if her tears created a magical window, he heard her thoughts: Not any night unless you wish it. How dare he use those words my love said to me. How dare he!
Wserkaf tensed, and then noticed her tearful face had nestled on his pectoral collar and had moistened the wdjat crystal fastened to the underside of it. He touched the side of it and then patted the back of her head again. He knew what she meant, oddly enough. The inspector remembered the sojourner telling him that when he found the women they were in such a broken and run down state that he had promised them he would never use their bodies as if he owned them the way so many men had done. Wserkaf reflected on this thought and sensed her memories through her touch. What he said made her wounds deeper because they had come from him. Even though he had opposed his senior over Marai’s final treatment, this woman couldn’t have known it. To her, he was one of the men who had helped destroy her beloved.
“Let me go,” she stated flatly.
“You need to rest… to grieve your beloved in peace and quiet. I’ve offered you my home to have as a safe place for now,” Wserkaf urged. “It’s nice there - peaceful. You’ll see. My dear wife Khentie can help you through your sorrow, she’s good at that.” The inspector was truly at a loss for any other way to console the woman, but he knew every word he spoke stabbed like a new knife plunged into her heart. Wserkaf stroked the back of her neck gently as he tried to send a healing energy through her. For a moment, his efforts worked. The young woman began to relax. She was exhausted from the day. The rhythmic sway of the chair borne on the shoulders of four men almost lulled her to sleep.
When the men turned and entered the gated area of the inspector’s estate, they brought the chair through the double wooden doors and into the plaza. The inspector began to help the woman down and started to guide her forward into the open area.
Naibe suddenly went to her knees. “Oh goddess, he’s gone, he’s gone! Leave me alone! Let me die!” she shrieked.
Instantly, the man’s entire household was in an uproar. The servants and guards ran toward the gate to see what was going on.
Wserkaf bent down and tried to pull the young woman up, but she was rooted to the spot.
“Kill me! Kill me, priest! I can’t be in your world. Stars. I must go home! I must go to the stars! To my El Anu, my Father! Kill me! Let me go!” she screamed.
Instead of being able to help her up, Wserkaf found Naibe-Ellit had tucked herself into a tight rocking ball that would not move from the threshold of his front courtyard.
“Wse. What’s this?” the inspector’s wife, a woman, near his own age, rushed out into the courtyard and across it toward him. Behind her was her serving girl, along with the women’s personal attendant. The three women clustered in the gateway, then bent down to assist the strange young woman clad only in a dance shawl and belt. “Is she Kina? She said a Kina god’s name as her Father?” The woman smoothed her own curly dark hair
, and then reached forward to the sobbing creature.
“A curse is on all of you!” Naibe snarled, burying her face in her loose and billowing hair that had spread itself out on the tiles. “You knew it was wrong, but you did nothing to save my beloved. Death is in this house!”
Wserkaf’s wife hissed a quick protection under her breath, and then admonished her husband: “Wse… she cannot curse our house. Show her!” she stepped back quickly, averting her eyes from the young woman’s now upturned glance.
Wserkaf seized Naibe’s heaving shoulders and shook her hard.
“Die! Murderers!” Naibe howled.
The inspector cuffed her in the face with his open palm to distract her.
“Stop it!” He roared. “Stop it now, I command you!” his hand seized the wdjat crystal on the gold chain around his neck so he could show it to her, but she collapsed in a motionless heap on the floor. Everyone who had come to see what was going on moved back a worried step. “Huh?” the inspector bent to the woman crumpled before them, shocked. He touched her throat to check her life signs.
“Wse, is she…?” the woman started to ask.
“I didn’t hit her that hard, Khentie!” the Inspector stammered. The thought that he might have killed her so effortlessly unnerved him. “I think she’s just fainted,” he turned to two of the bearers who had brought the chair in. “Here. Bek, Resh, stretch her out on the floor here,” he pointed to an empty spot in his plant-filled interior plaza. Darting to his reflection pool, he gathered some pillows from a wicker couch to place under Naibe’s head.
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