He stood in the open area of the plaza again, but he didn’t understand why. This was still Ineb Hedj, unless it was some trick. He stood in spirit by the pool in the open plaza and looked down at the water. Somewhere in his thoughts he heard a woman weeping; Naibe. Sher-Ellit. Don’t cry. Know that I live. Know it. Believe it, he started, but remembered Wserkaf’s warning about the elder priest. At this point, he didn’t care. Let him try again. Let him… I’ll freeze his wicked heart! he paused, then sighed because freezing that heart would mean he acknowledged the old man had a heart. The vision continued. He knew the women had been here. That was a starting point. He needed to find where they had been taken so he could gather them and leave the stench of this city far behind.
The entire pool area was decorated with huge painted pots that were filled with beautiful growing and flowering plants. It looked as if someone had captured a bit of the great river had brought it inside the plastered white walls of this estate. A small stand of papyrus even grew at one end. At the other end, a trickling little water wheel was planted in the water. A hand crank in the side of the wheel could make water come over it when it was turned. Dozens of sesen the color of a moisture-laden dawn sky floated in the pool. Among the pots, large patterned ottomans stuffed with goose down had been placed so people to lounge near the pool or go for a casual swim on more blistering days.
Although it was deathly quiet now, the sojourner sensed the memory of the laughter of the children who grew up here and the chattering of their pet monkeys, cats and dogs. He imagined other sunny and lazy days with beautiful birds floating by and perching on the awnings. The cats crouched, eyeing them. All was silent and breathless, as if waiting for something new.
Why this? Marai asked. Where are they? Why am I frozen in this pretty place instead of the places my beloveds now walk?
Except for a wisp of a spirit, there was no hint of Ariennu, Deka or Naibe.
Sighing again, Marai broke free of that image and moved further in spirit. Take me to them, little one, before I go mad and suffer much in trying.
Images flashed by him and became solid once more, he stood in a wide causeway, flanked by incredibly tall buildings on either side of that hard, black path.
What is this place? Another city? he asked himself. It looked nothing like any of the places he had ever seen.
It will not always be
As you see
Time builds
Time destroys
The Child Stone had focused on the city of Ineb Hedj, not his wives. It was a different Ineb Hedj; one as far away as… he had no way to know. He just knew it was Ineb Hedj somehow. Perhaps it was in a distant time, long after he or they had lived. Why show me this? Have the ladies been carried here to live and die in this far off world?
We do understand.
They are not here
See how it is eternal as the rise of the sun
Yet drifts and changes
Lion in the dust
The stone tweaked gently, soothing him. The city where he lived now was green and filled with lakes, palm trees and stands of papyrus. There were flowers; plazas of them. White walls wove among each royal city estate. This, too, was a shining place, but it wasn’t Ineb Hedj. There were no white walls, no estates. The greenery was sparse and the tawny earth was full of windblown dust. Ka-Ro or something like it was the new name, he could sense. It was built quite some distance from where he reclined in a warm and soothing pool. It grew from many levels of ruins that had risen, then crumbled and were covered with the dust of centuries to be finally forgotten.
In this world there were no fine palaces as such. The new city teemed, but the part he saw was a wide place amid tall buildings surrounded by a stinking beggar-town, as squalorous as the Poors’ Market on the other side of the water next to the Little Kina Ahna neighborhood where he had lived before his ordeal.
No. Do not show me this, he affirmed. Take me to my wives. I need to see they are well! His thoughts raced so wildly, he nearly roused himself. In an instant he was moved again, but he could still tell he was seeing a different time. He was by the river. The beautiful, lush greenery, the fragrant, flowering trees, and even the humblest of shrubs had been replaced by a shack-filled stretch of sand and lapped by filthy, but ever-rich silt-laden water. Boats both huge and small, noisily growling and roaring, plied the river. They had no oars and they blasted loud horn sounds from time to time. From where he stood he could see The Great Pyr Ntr of Khufu, one for his son a third for his grandson, Great Father Menkaure who, in his own time would launch his spirit to the stars.
How far in time have I come if I’m seeing them this way? he asked himself. All three eternal houses were complete, but they no longer gleamed. They were riddled by time, water, and wind, but, by the goddess, they were still of such magnificent size. The wondrously painted “Daughter of the God” as Sekhmet still fronted them. She was nearly stripped and destroyed by what he sensed were thousands of acts of ultimate disrespect. Wire fencing surrounded her and oddly dressed men and women moved around her, holding up small flat, rectangular amulets to their eyes for a moment before lowering them again.
What an odd way of worship, he mused, then shuddered that he had been distracted. My frailty is misguiding me, bearing me to meaningless places. Damn! Nothing in any of this time or his own time came to him from the women except for a distant wisp of a disconnected thought. Where have they gone? If I can’t see them, are they as dear as I? Has everything failed? He touched his brow and a sensation of comfort spread through him.
I need to see them. Please, he tried whispering to his own inner thoughts.
You must rest
the voice returned.
Where are they? he asked again.
You will see them again.
Love them.
Touch them forever.
Look inside.
They are part of you… One heart.
Somehow, when he heard the thoughts of the Children of Stone this time, their voices filtered through his own stone. They no longer comforted him. He had gone on a great journey and seen the city in ages to come for no reason? Touch them forever, eh? Even the once Great Pyr Ntr still stands, but is a shadow of its once glory. What do you want me to learn? he asked as he felt himself returning from the distant vision. No. This was simply wandering; unintended and unexpected wandering. Perhaps, because the old man’s drug hurt me, I have sent hurt into you? Is that it? No answer returned.
Rousing himself from his dream vision, Marai noticed the water had cooled. The intensity of the light sparkling through the woven roof of the bath told him it was midday. Still alone, Marai quickly planned what he would do. He needed to get up and find some manner of clothing, then leave as soon as possible. The Great One or his protégé no longer mattered to him. He would creep away as soon as he was able. He needed a boat. Travel to Little Kina-Ahna would be impossible without one. Perhaps one of the nobles had moored a one or two man woven raft. He could seize it. They were likely guarded. That meant he would have to hurt or kill any guards. He didn’t trust his body enough. Though he was stronger, he still felt wrung out like a rag.
For half a moment Marai thought of Djerah, the young basket maker who had secured a post with the stone burnishers. He wondered if he could slip into the worker’s camp to contact the young man without being noticed. Perhaps that young man would have heard a rumor of where the women had been taken. No. If the Children had failed to find them, there was likely a spell keeping their place a mystery. Djerah wouldn’t be of any help except to possibly alert the authorities of his presence in the camp.
Outside Wserkaf’s white-plastered walls he wouldn’t be safe, Marai reconsidered. Potential “eyes” for Hordjedtef lurked at every bend or could be easily purchased. No matter how badly he wanted to look for his wives or to leave Ineb Hedj, the sojourner knew it would be unwise as well as unsafe to “Go Forth by Day”.
Marai got out of the bath and sullenly dried himself. He found folded lin
en left by the servant who must have come in to check on him. From the cloth, he quickly fashioned a shenti and a simple shendyt covering. Night would be a better time to leave. For now, he would stay at this estate, resting and recovering out of sight of Hordjedtef, or any of the royal family.
As he sat on the bench by the bathing pit next and finished his food, Marai stopped for a moment to consider his host. He knew he owed his life to Wserkaf. He had cried out to the inspector in what he thought had been his final delirium that first evening and he had done so again at other moments too. If the priest had not felt him calling, he wouldn’t have come to find him. He wouldn’t have been in the chamber to work the needed parts of the re-breathing ritual or sung the “Going Forth…” spells. The children might have awakened him eventually, but everything and everyone he knew would be gone. If they had already made the mistake of bringing the women and himself to a place where his Houra was dying of old age, they might easily wake him in two times fifty years, or even in that dreadful ruined Ineb Hedj of the future. Maybe that was why I saw it. If it hadn’t been for Wserkaf I would have wakened from this dream thousands of years from now when it might have been too late for the re-birth of whatever bones were left of my body, he sighed, dismayed. I can’t be too hasty, although I want nothing more. If I’m caught or killed, it brings him down too. This needs to be secret… still…
After he took the carved bowls back to the servants’ areas, Marai thought of exercising and then resting again. The thought of being able to do or know so little about the whereabouts or condition of his wives upset the big man. Rest the Children said. They are not harmed more than they can bear. It was a lull in the middle of a storm. He didn’t want them harmed even a little bit, but there was nothing to do. Resigning himself to wait for the inspector’s return, Marai left the bathing area. Laughter, tears, and whispers… quiet little sounds and memories wafted through the Child Stone in his brow, as it gently whispered back to him, replaying all of the memories as he went back into the open area to sit by the sesen pool and pull in the energy of the sun.
CHAPTER 14: THE VEIL
Something white glimmered in the corner of Marai’s vision as he stood, freshly bathed and nourished, in front of the garden pool in Inspector Wserkaf’s main plaza. It fluttered in the gentle breeze as it moved the little stand of papyrus that grew in one side of the green, moss-filled water. It was a white scrap of cloth with a little red and gold edging that reminded the sojourner of something Naibe and he had seen at the market in the early morning right before he left. They had been walking among the stands and blankets filled with trade goods. His arm was slung around his beloved’s waist as they walked. Etum-Addi, Gizzi and Ariennu were still setting up their store for a day of brisk trading. Deka was counting the bundles of incense and wrapping more candy.
When Naibe saw a merchant set a white scarf out, she remarked that it was lovely, but that the trade value the man expected was far too expensive for either of them to afford that day. They decided to wait until the end of the day to see if the merchant could be talked down. Wserkaf’s visit had distracted them from carrying out that plan.
Marai quickly realized that the Inspector of the Ways must have seen it as he left that afternoon and picked it up for his wife. When she had been swimming or playing in the water, she must have left it so that a breeze pushed it into the reeds out of the servant’s sight.
Marai walked around the edge of the sesen pond. Getting on his hands and knees, he fetched the cloth from the tall stems. When he sat back on his heels, reveling in the soft feel of the fine and “sheer as royal” cloth, he saw more needlework had been added since he and Naibe had seen the piece in the market. It was Kina-Ahna and unmistakable in style.
Touching the veil to his cheek, Marai understood. It had somehow come into Naibe-Ellit’s possession. The little bulls on it were the same as some she had sewn on the red sash he had worn when he went to visit Hordjedtef. It meant one thing to the sojourner: his wives had been here for at least a short while and that meant Wserkaf was still lying to him. The inspector knew where his wives were and he probably knew everything that had happened to them on this side of the river.
Marai touched the long shawl-like veil to his face reverently once more, as if kissing it, then stood and threw it over his shoulders. If the women have been here, and sweet Naibe left this veil, maybe Ariennu or Deka has left something for me. He tried not to rouse the few servants in the back areas as he padded quietly through the rooms in the front of the estate. Unfortunately, he found nothing. Finally, he found himself in a large upper room with a skylight and an awning over it. Inside was a lion-footed bed with a carved and padded headrest, along with many other luxurious chests, trunks, and other belongings.
The inspector’s bedroom, Marai realized where he was when he saw how the possessions had not been packed and moved as they had been in the rooms belonging to the princess and her handmaidens.
“My love.
My love, my love. Noooo…”
Marai finally heard Naibe-Ellit’s voice. It whimpered softly.
Standing in that room, Marai remembered that he had seen this estate before. In his furtive travels as he lay trapped in the stone tomb, when he felt as though he might have died, his spirit rose up free of the pain and moved about the earth. This was one of the places he had been. He remembered that he had seen Naibe and that he had gone to her in spirit. He had been attracted by the glimmering of the same sheer white cloth that he now held. As if he had fallen into another trance as he stood in the inspector’s bedroom, looking around for more clues. Marai rubbed her veil gently across his face again and felt her sadness drifting through him. She was seated by the papyrus stand where he had found the cloth. Her feet dangled in the water, her face was in her hands, and she seemed so very tired. He knew his vision, if he continued thinking about it, would lead into the story of how the beautiful piece of linen in his hand became tangled in the stems. Wrestling himself free from the reoccurring vision, he turned from the inspector’s bedroom. Wserkaf will be back before evening, Marai reminded himself, then all the lies will end.
Trotting down the steps and out into the plaza again, the big man sat at the same spot where he had visualized Naibe sitting and weeping. The sad but wistful memory flooded him and almost reduced him to empathic sobbing now that he had brought himself to close to where the events took place. Feeling himself drawn away as he had been in the bath, Marai knew another vision was beginning. He didn’t know what day his forming vision showed him, or how many days had now passed since this scene had taken place. As he became part of the scene, he saw that it was late evening and the priest’s household was preparing for bed. Prepared to view the past in search of some measure of truth, Marai settled back by the pool and let the vision take him.
Wserkaf was about to put his late night work away. He had been working on a numeric formula for a repeating pattern, inspired by a grouping of stars in the early sky. It was a puzzle designed to sharpen the wits and perhaps suggest a holy pattern. His groom, Anre, would come soon to wash his feet and hands, and then massage his aching shoulders with hot oil. After that, he would retire to his bedchamber. His wife was already asleep in her bedchamber. Both he and his beloved had tired themselves out from their meetings and devotions, so they could hurry home to check on the tragic young widow of the sojourner.
Young Naibe-Ellit had shown few signs of improvement over the day. She wouldn’t even speak to any of the people in the prince’s household. She stared with hollow eyes into the water of the plaza pool. Servants thought several times that she was trying to talk herself into wading out and sinking beneath the surface.
Tonight, Khentie’s little handmaiden, Mya, came out to the pool to get Naibe to come in. She had brought out some calming wine, but Naibe shook her head in refusal. When that failed, the little girl went to tell her mistress so she could get further instructions. Unfortunately, she found the princess already in bed and in no mood to be roused. Des
pite her weariness, the princess managed to tell the girl to get her beloved to handle the matter. Now, the handmaiden had come into the edge of Wserkaf’s chart room. She stood quietly in the doorway until the inspector looked up.
“Your Highness…” she bowed deeply because she had interrupted him from his calculations and closing meditation. “Forgive me, but my great lady wants you to know that the Shinar woman is still weeping for her husband. No one has seen her eat today, for the second day. Now she will not come in to sleep and is looking to drown herself. My great lady says she must get more sleep before her temple proofs in the morning. She wishes that you talk to her. It is her wish that you order this girl to eat and to be grateful of our care. She says she knows that in this woman’s land women do not trust one another as we do. Perhaps a man is needed to give her direction.”
Wserkaf sighed unhappily, blinking once at the girl who stood before him.
“Very well,” he cracked a little smile at the maid. “Go tell Anre to bring some fruit, sweet cakes and drink to us. Then, both of you go your way. I’ll see her comfortable and then retire without the evening toilet. It’s late. You should both be resting.” The inspector waited for the girl to bow again, then rose from his work table as soon as she left. Rubbing his tired eyes with his slim fingers, he rolled up his chart and took the lamp he was using out to the pool.
The inspector was worried about the young guest. All of his kindness and all of his wife’s attempts at consoling her had not worked. She seemed to relish the thought of joining her beloved in death. Wserkaf knew the other women must have been doing better than his charge only because he had heard nothing about them and had sensed even less. He wanted this youngest of the wives to recover and be out of his care soon. If anyone could lighten the king’s mood with her dances, he thought, this young one might be able to do so… if she could heal her own sorrow.
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