Going Forth By Day

by Mary R Woldering

  He must touch us

  “Now?” Marai answered aloud, shaking his head.

  “Did the stones speak?” the inspector asked.

  “They apparently want you to see me work them. Maybe they forgot we both have to be somewhere and I’m about out,” he shrugged. Carefully opening the leather bag, he placed the eight stones that had been inside on the wide stone rim of the well. “One day I won’t listen. This morning I’m close.” The shape Marai made was the ‘Lady’s Star’. An arc of light rose above the design as soon as it was completed. “Go on, Your Highness, reach through the light,” Marai suggested reassuringly.

  Wserkaf put his hands in the prismatic glimmer, then gasped in wonder, giggling almost helplessly as the light leapt eagerly onto his fingers and traveled up over his hands, like a living and creature of liquid, to illuminate his face. The glow was Naibe’s sensual touch all over again, passing through him and swelling with her sigh of unbearable ecstasy as it cut through his soul. He tore his gaze away for a moment. He missed her. It was too much. “I can’t look. It’s too glorious,” he gasped, but then managed to look again. He stared in childlike wonder. At that moment, the inspector priest understood why his friend was so joyous most of the time and how any of his outbursts of rage were so quickly contained, controlled, and defeated.

  No. Fail not.

  You are the healer in

  A corner of your world

  Heed all.

  The Lady has wakened your fire

  The Messenger has strengthened your will

  Know these things

  That in the web of time

  They will say of you

  User-Ka-eve ‘Mighty is his Spirit’

  Holy Irimaat ‘Truth is Accomplished’

  Nebhkey ‘The Lord Ascends’

  Who holds Truth above all

  The prophesied one, the heir

  Of Djedi wears the Deseret Red crown

  Marai’s hand excitedly found Wserkaf’s shoulder. “Did you hear it? You are part of this, just as I thought they had told me, whether you want to be in the legend or not, they said the heir of Djedi just as plain…” the sojourner was interrupted by the sight of the images which formed in the middle of the circle of Child Stones.

  Watching with Marai, the inspector saw himself sitting, as an older man, enthroned. The red “deseret” crown was on his head. His image was made of stone in some moments of the images and flesh and blood in others. Even more images depicted him with the white crown of the southern lands. A smaller, pinkish-looking Eternal House with adjacent pink temples in front rose behind his image. Every part of it glittered in the rising sun as if it had been made of prismatic glass. A little lower on a dais at the front of the temple complex stood the carved images of two men. Gasping in wonder, Wserkaf recognized their likenesses as his sons Sahure and Kakai. The wdjat which Ariennu had taken in trade for the eight Child Stones blazed beautifully on his chest once again. His winsome smile had become an echo of Marai’s smile in that distant time. No women shared his throne, but he sensed both Khentie and other women’s supportive and loving energy near him. Wserkaf contemplated the small, glimmering stone nearest his hand in the eight-pointed formation for a moment.

  Laughter…

  The sound came from the center of the eight stones, but bounced, then orbited like a flash of darkness. It was a deep tittering and rich laugh

  The inspector looked up, different-faced and somehow more regal, as if the sight and knowledge of what the vision meant allowed him to possess the children’s light for just a moment.

  Suddenly, the image blurred and scrambled, as if it was hiding itself.

  Marai sensed the unnatural way that the image had stopped. “What just happened?” he knew the spirit of something else had arrived and was attempting to take over the vision.

  “The wdjat,” Wserkaf put a hand on Marai’s shoulder.

  A moment later, a different image came into focus. It showed a torchlight burning behind two people in the background. The inspector watched carefully as the image solidified and cleared. A slim, deep brown hand with exquisitely shaped fingers and reddened nails guided the edge of the disc as it was floated on water

  Marai sighed out, defeated, because in that moment he saw a reflection in the wdjat as it was pictured through the child stones. He knew exactly who it was.

  CHAPTER 30: IMAGE IN THE WATER

  Marai and Prince Wserkaf stared into the water in the well. Although his body was recovering from the poisoning, starvation, and suffocation he had experienced in the tomb, Marai’s psyche struggled. Someone on the other side of the image held the crystalline wdjat gently on the surface of some faraway pond or pool of water, sending the image in reverse to both men. Gradually, the reflected image revealed who was working the disc.

  The men saw the calm but surreally lovely face of a young man staring back. A slight open-mouthed smile revealed oddly-deformed but shiny teeth, like dog fangs, at the sides of his full lips. For an instant, his eyes flashed green in his russet skinned face. It was Prince Maatkare.

  Marai instantly moved out of the field of vision provided by the stolen amulet. He wouldn’t be seen, but knew he might be sensed.

  “Ah…” the rich, deep voice behind the russet face breathed, “I can see him now. Excellent, my dear, you have done well.” Another face formed in the reflection.

  Marai felt a hurt cold in his heart when he recognized Deka beside the young prince. Her eyelids were adorned with gold paint that mirrored the round disc painted just above her blood-red Child Stone. This wasn’t the remote, anxious woman he had embraced at this very well months ago. This was a very different, calm and elegant Deka.

  She sensed something of Marai’s essence watching her and moaned quietly – a slight tear started down her cheek.

  The man known as Maatkare raised his hand and beckoned her into a tighter embrace. He scoffed a little and then touched her cheek, addressing Wserkaf. “This tear? Of joy, no doubt. Yes. It’s because you like me so much, don’t you? See, cousin? See what I can take away from you; from your world?” His eyes flashed again at the inspector. “She needed so very little encouragement to come with me, so very little.”

  Deka… Marai’s thought started, unable to hide himself any longer. Know I am here.

  “Oh, look at this, my dearest creature of the flame. Do you feel it? A sad, sad ghost has come to see us, I sense,” his lips brushed hers and his tongue slithered gently between her gasping lips as if that slight affection had brought her to the limit of ecstasy. One eye opened and looked to check Wserkaf’s reaction. “Go you now, spirit. Go back to your Land of the Forgotten. See, she has forgotten you too.”

  Marai knew the prince was speaking to his “ghost” and almost betrayed himself at that moment, but Deka reacted.

  I see you Man Sun… Her thought came back to him too easily, as if she had felt his presence before he even asked the question.

  Should you come?

  See us by day?

  I cannot say

  You are a ghost

  And so am I

  Fare you well…

  Her hand gracefully swept over the eye and the image blurred.

  Wserkaf and Marai saw nothing further of the two.

  After a moment of silent reflection, the inspector spoke. “At least we know Hordjedtef isn’t the one who has the wdjat, now, so maybe that’s a relief. And I see Maatkare is charming as always,” Wserkaf sighed, defeated, and stared up at the setting moon. “If only I had been there to protect them, to oppose him and my master this time, and not on my duty to Lord Djehuti in Khmenu.”

  Deka… Marai didn’t hear the inspector priest. He knew what this haughty princeling was showing Wserkaf and his supposed ghost. He knows we were never together like that and he’s showing my ghost… strutting his victory over her body; that he’s completely and effortlessly taken possession of her. No… It has to be something else, Marai thought. That the prince had seduced the woman was obvi
ous, but sorrow and torture were still in her eyes as if she wasn’t completely rapt. The sojourner couldn’t quite fathom that. He would have to see later. That Maatkare had the wdjat also meant that Hordjedtef was still unaware he had risen.

  “So he was the one who sent the crocodiles, then?” the sojourner asked.

  “Mmm… indeed,” Wserkaf nodded. “Yes; he could do that. Even though he’s out with the lions and the dust for half a year sometimes, he might have communication with a number of magicians all along the way.” The inspector turned to go, knowing the suspension of time Marai had created could fade at any moment, leaving him late to arrive at the palace and in need of an explanation as to why he had not assisted with the official morning ceremonies for the Menkaure. “If you’re well enough, though, I have to…”

  Marai paused to think and then sat straighter in astonishment. “Lions and dust; new slaves and demi-gods.” He heaved himself to his feet from the lower stone step around the well as if thunderstruck. “The Children knew all along! Sweet goddess, was this part of the plan too? To stop me cold once I arrived and did their bidding? To divide us like this?” He began to pace by the well as his feelings of shock passed through anxiety, then turned into hurt and disappointed anger.

  “Easy. Calm yourself. Your body has recovered, but your spirit is still sorting everything out. You’ll become ill again if you challenge yourself anymore,” Wserkaf cautioned, rising from his seat. His hand was on his friend’s shoulder, steadying him.

  Marai brushed the hand away.

  “No. Deka knew the Children’s plan. She was trying to tell me all along, but I thought she was just cold to me.”

  “Could each of you have different dictates written on your hearts? Different tasks in part of a larger plan, as our varied gods do?” Wserkaf asked. “Perhaps she was following a different path to go with my cousin and then to bind pretty Naibe and Ariennu to him as well,” the inspector’s faced darkened.

  “No. I don’t accept that. I can’t.” Marai shook his silvery-haired head. Inwardly, he knew the inspector had a point. Hordjedtef had said as much too. Marai was a messenger, a conveyance. Deka had always said she was not like them and not on the same journey. He thought she meant her own search for her history and her ancestors was somehow more important than being part of the force he and his other two wives were creating. Could it have been a different mission entirely? If Hordjedtef has in any way ruined this… the irritation in sojourner’s thoughts advanced.

  “Wait…” Wserkaf winced. “I can feel your dark thoughts growing. You want my master to feel it, too? Just center yourself and breathe,” the inspector touched Marai’s cloaked arm. When he had said the words Lions and dust, his big friend had reacted as if the words were some mysterious utterance. “What is it about what I said? How did this almost set you into another fury?”

  “It was the last time the Children of Stone truly spoke outside of me. They gave me a riddle that went like this:

  ‘Lions and dust

  In the land below foam…’

  he shut his eyes, gripping his fists at his sides at the monstrous idea that his entire course had not been his own but had been something charted long ago by the Children of Stone. For a stubborn son of Ahu, the Akkad and Shinar drifter, as Naibe called him, the idea of someone else controlling him like a bull in a pen stirred a rebellion in his heart that made him ill. If he could have freed himself at that moment, he would have done so. Everyone has me it seems. Hordjedtef, though he doesn’t know it yet, my wives because I am compelled to protect them and to see why they are no longer strong, the Children… He recited aloud:

  ‘Baskets at the gate of the sacrifice.

  Stones of the children

  In the hand of the grieving bird.

  The horizon is split

  For a weeping warrior.

  Etched in stone

  Long in years

  Silent in waiting

  Walking with us,’

  he sighed. “There it is, or most of it, anyway.” Marai stared down into the well. “Baskets at the gate of the sacrifices is the place where I found the old woman when we met. They were basket-makers.” Wserkaf might be the grieving bird, because he’s a rising Great One of Djehuti, seen as an ibis. Marai surmised as Wserkaf absent-mindedly ran his hands over the Child Stones, then realized they welcomed him. He’s made so many mistakes lately that turned out to fit too perfectly into the Children’s pattern; lost faith, family, home, his beloved and perhaps even his wife – and the Child Stones don’t hurt him. Before Marai could speak again, the glimmering stones spread out on the edge of the well flickered back to life.

  “Look, they are showing us more.” Wserkaf saw an enclosure in the dim water. It was a village. He sensed other people in the area surrounding it. “Qustul Amani. That’s where Maatkare and his men are camping… or near there. It’s friendly and old Methautep wields a lot of influence over the lands on up into the Southern hills. The prince goes out on forays from there, but that could be his base.”

  “Oh ho and now you will see me fix you into the stone of the place where you hover.” An image formed, followed by a rasping and firm voice.

  Marai ducked out of sight, but the instant before he did he saw a little imp-like creature, red with pointy ears or horns and large glowing green eyes atop spear-like downturned tusks crouched in the darkest corner of his thoughts. A djin! he thought. As it rose, it became more man-like, flashing sassiness and youth; like a tiny hunter rising from the brush to hurl its annoying little spear. Whatever this was did not want them to see into Qustul Amani.

  Wserkaf focused and countered with a dispelling utterance. “Bastard!” he snarled at the image. “Show yourself true, Maatkare, or I’ll do the binding. I don’t know who you think you are trying to fling that kind of dung in my direction… or who you thought was here in spirit.”

  Laughter answered again and the images faded. Wserkaf hastily scooped up the stones and handed them back to Marai to put in the bag.

  “That son out of Apep’s bowels knows more heka than just the crocodiles, doesn’t he?” Marai dragged himself into an upright position, but noticed how much weaker he suddenly felt. For a moment he wondered if the dark energy of Maatkare’s djin illusion had reached him.

  “Oh rest assured he knows spells and utterances enough to make a nuisance of himself, but he’d be no true challenge to you, or even to me, I’m certain.” Wserkaf rubbed his eyes, wanting to yawn but forcing himself to regain his composure. “It’s said his teachers put him out of the discipline of Wepwawet, bright as he was, because they couldn’t discipline him either… before he went into the army he learned much,” the inspector reflected. “He’s studied as all princes have; it’s how we are raised. Some of us continue on as priests, others go into politics… still others seem more suited to campaigns as Maatkare is. In his case he’s turned banishment into victory, although he merely uses much of the time to hunt. It doesn’t require much time to threaten to anyone who gets the idea of raising a force to down to the north. He’s too scattered for any depth of the spirit. He might indulge in sorcery from time to time, even his grandfather says it will one day undo him,” the inspector shook his head, dismayed. “Great One was perceptive when it came to his own blood, but he certainly gave no care who you were or what you represented. His presumption… his foolishness. He didn’t desire to know who any of you have become. If he had, he would have been on his knees before you instead of challenging or claiming to defeat you. He would have seen you as this messenger of the gods whose goddess did, after all, smile on him. You say you are not a god, but in our world what you have become is a god,” the inspector smiled, comforted in what he had admitted.

  “Where is this coming from, did you see something from me? I hardly feel like a god.” Marai shifted uncomfortably, looking around for signs of someone stirring. He thought he had felt a very real presence somewhere behind him, but the inspector didn’t seem to react to anyone. Marai thought he was ce
rtainly tired enough to start seeing sleep djin and night devils.

  “Who knows what or how gods truly feel? Perhaps we are both like gods in our own way in that we walk among the legends and prophecies of others. I don’t really know whether to hope for this or not. Your Naibe once said: ‘Sometimes things happen that are not part of any prophecy or a legend. Sometimes our feet stray far away from any given path only to find they never left the truest path inside our hearts! We always know inside our souls the way back to the truth on a silent road.’ I don’t know,” Wserkaf sighed as the other memories of the night on which Naibe said that filled him with longing for a moment.

  As the men exchanged glances, they both knew something seemed unfinished. Wserkaf knew Marai was so tired that at any moment he would suddenly transform and leap to the sky as a magical bull, leaving behind all of his earthly fetters to walk among the stars. When they had first met, the priest had found Marai impressive and perhaps a little dangerous. He emerged as a paragon of strength willing to martyr himself to prove a point. The changes had continued. In just the few hours since he had wakened, the stars seemed more his home than the sand or even the white walled estates of Ineb Hedj.

  “I think I would rather stray from my path for a little longer, and I do not know where yours will lead after you go south,” the inspector said. “I’m sure, though, that we will meet each other again – that our silent roads to truth will cross. I’d best get back now, if I’m going to make my move. Maybe I can still help you. King or not, I have sworn to devote myself to truth.”

  “I know; one day. Now, though, get you gone, and thank you, Wseiri, for everything.” Marai grabbed his arm reassuringly. The big sojourner smiled, stood and embraced his friend again, giving the kiss he had ordained as his own clan’s form of affectionate greeting: eyes, then brow rather than eyes and lips as the women had kissed him. This time it was a real farewell.

  Wserkaf stood free of the former shepherd, he took a step backward to pronounce an utterance: “Son of earth and starry heaven,” Wserkaf raised his hands in the prayerful blessing. “Be well. Be blessed.” The inspector backed away again, folded his arms high and melted into the early morning sky in a swift and magical retreat to his boat and the challenges that awaited him across the river.