by Phil Tucker
“And this?” She pointed to the crimson gash. Surely it can’t be what I think it is.
“The heart of the Kusuji mystery! The washabat of God, as they call it, which translates roughly into ‘The Canyon of God’ or ‘The Path of Righteousness’. See here how Perneb puts it: Tjahapimu with force of arms did conquer Magan, and there was much rejoicing. Hardly. Before the light of the rising sun he returned to Kusuji, triumphant, and was adored. Strong of arm, bold of mind, pure of spirit, he walked the Path of Righteousness, and emerged alive and divine, having passed within the radiance of Amubastis and returned, greater than he was once.”
“But what is this Path of Righteousness?” asked Annara. “And who is Amubastis?”
Neferhotep grimaced. “I forget how new you are to Magan and our ways. Of course. Amubastis is the mother of all lamassu, who dwells in the underworld and blesses the spirits of our dead with her eternal light. The Kusuji, heretical felons that they are, claim that their ‘path’ leads them through this very radiance, and that the deserving emerge on the far side as divine beings.”
Pebekkamen crossed his broad arms over his fine robe. “There’s something to what they say, obviously. Nobody at the time dared question Tjahapimu’s right to reign once he underwent this transformation.”
“Oh, assuredly,” said Neferhotep, waving a hand airily as if brushing away a mosquito. “It is as you say, august regent. They did indeed change, and the lamassu did acknowledge the change and claim them fully ascended as pharaohs. But did Tjahapimu actually enter in Amubastis’ light? Did he walk into the land of the dead and return? I sincerely doubt it.”
Annara peered down at the scroll. “And each subsequent Kusuji pharaoh did the same?”
“Hmm, yes. They all walked it. Not all survived the experience, actually. There was a rather farcical period sixty years in where six different men attempted to claim the title, only to never emerge from the path’s far side. Quite amusing, really. The Kusuji came to the verge of civil war as a result. I think they were running out of royal princes. But then of course Tjanefer managed to ascend successfully, may his name be damned forevermore.”
“Interesting.” Annara tapped her lips. “That would indicate that the path is a real trial. Which country would murder its princes and risk war for a piece of theater? And only royal princes may walk it?”
“Oh no! That is the part that is the most astounding!” Neferhotep opened a series of scrolls before finding the one he wished, a smaller, densely written square of fabric which he raised up and squinted at. “By the lamassu Baskakeren was a terrible scribe. But prolific. He traveled to Kusuj early on during their reign, and wrote a book entitled The Going Forth Into the Land of the Living. It’s full of obvious lies, but this one is particularly titillating: that anyone may walk the Path of Righteousness, but that nobody does, as everyone who attempts it dies. Even royalty as we’ve seen are not proof to the Path’s supposed deadliness. Yet there it lies, open to all, a surefire way to enter Amubastis’ presence permanently.”
Annara felt a thrill of excitement. “Anyone may pass through?”
Pebekkamen groaned and covered his face.
“According to Baskakaren, yes.” Neferhotep smiled at her. “Ridiculous, is it not? Were this true, then anybody could be pharaoh.”
“But nobody survives,” growled Pebekkamen. “That’s the whole point. It’s a death trap. There’s no sense in even trying, and that’s why Baskababben -”
“Baskakaren,” interjected Neferhotep.
“Baskakaren says that nobody even tries to walk it. It’s simply not an option.”
Annara ignored him with ease. “This is fascinating information, royal librarian. Exactly what I’d hoped to learn. I will be departing first thing tomorrow on an extended journey to follow the borders of Magan and learn more of its provinces first hand. Is there a scribe you could recommend to us that would be able to further educate me on the traditions, history, and culture of Kusuji?”
“I - but yes, of course. There are many who hold places of esteem and importance within the palace -”
“Alas, that won’t do,” said Annara. “Sorry. I want someone without political connections.”
Neferhotep raised both painted eyebrows.
“Because,” continued Annara, making it up as she went along, “I desire to converse with a true intellectual, someone with no mind for temporal matters of the court, but who instead has devoted themselves solely to matters of the mind.”
“Ah,” said Neferhotep, glancing at Pebekkamen as if for reassurance. “Do you mean to say that those within the palace are not -”
“Please, royal librarian.” Annara put on her best smile. “Surely there is a solitary scribe here who wouldn’t mind going on a journey through the countyside?”
Pebekkamen snorted. “That’s the worst fate most of them can imagine.”
“No, no, I think I know just the person,” said Neferhotep, and then brightened up considerably. “Oh yes! He would love to get out and around for a few months! Sunshine, plenty of time spent on camel back, sleeping in tents - oh yes. He will be simply overjoyed to accompany you. He will present himself outside the Women’s Courtyard just before dawn.”
“And be prepared to speak intelligently about everything Kusuj,” said Annara.
Neferhotep’s smile was just short of malicious. “Oh, you won’t be able to stop him.”
“Very well. Thank you for your time. This has been a fascinating experience.”
Much bowing followed, a call for blessings, and finally Annara and Pebekkamen managed to escape back outside into the sunlight.
“You can’t be serious,” said Pebekkamen as the brothel madam approached, all simpers and blown kisses.
“Prepare a royal convoy to leave before dawn,” she replied, smiling widely at all those gathered before her and moving forward to greet them. “I’ll tell Senacherib.”
* * *
“What? Leave on a royal tour now? Are you insane?”
Annara wondered with whom she’d eventually be able to let down her guard. Watching as her son paced and back and forth within his room, she kept her expression calm and confident. She couldn’t show him her doubts, her fears, her certainty that at any moment armed assassins would break in. She had to convince him by pretending to be convinced herself.
“The palace has become too dangerous,” she said. “The regent -”
“The drunkard, you mean.”
“The regent insists that our enemies will first kill him, then me, and then force you to accept Pawura -”
“Over my dead body!”
“Which might very well end up being the case if you don’t agree.” She reached out and took hold of his wrist as he tried to stride by. “Elu. Listen to me. We are in mortal danger here. You’ve become very taken with your rank of pharaoh-to-be, but nobody else is. You saw what they were trying to pull before the lamassu -”
Elu pulled his wrist free. “Luckily they had you there to hand me over to them on a silver platter.”
Annara bit back her retort. Instead, “They out-manuevered us. It was a done deal, and it was only by picking our own regent -”
“And you picked Pebekkamen, of all people?”
“Acharsis vouched for him.”
“Acharsis left us behind to rot!”
Elu’s yell echoed off the high walls and he stopped to glare at her, face going red. “Where is he now? He spends all this time talking about how much he wanted to be closer to you and me, and the first chance he gets he rides off into the underworld with the other godsbloods. You think his opinion matters to me?”
“Pebekkamen -”
“Enough, mother! I’ve done my own research. Oh yes, I’ve not been sitting here eating grapes while you go to the slums and library and weave all your plans. Ahktena has told me plenty about him, this former hero who lost his nerve and fled the field ten years ago. And you know who he was fighting? The Kusuj! Yes! The very people you’re interested in talk
ing to, for some reason.”
“How do you know about the Kusuj?” asked Annara, feeling very distant, very detached.
“I had people following you. And no, not just to spy, but to protect you, because yes, I know how much danger we’re in, and having you wander around with only a handful of guards isn’t enough. If you won’t listen to me, then I’m forced to go out of my way and send my people to protect you -”
Annara inhaled through her nose. “This changes nothing. The Kusuj -”
“And now we’re leaving at dawn with Pebekkamen to go into enemy territory? With an avowed coward and drunk who is no doubt still known and hated over there? Ahktena told me nobody in their sane mind goes within twenty miles of the Kusuj border -”
“You told her?”
“I - yes.” He had enough presence of mind to turn away. “She and I have grown close. I trust her.”
Annara took three quick steps forward. “Have you forgotten whose daughter she is?”
“No.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “And it doesn’t matter. We love each other, mother. I’m going to take her as my wife.”
“Your - your wife?” Annara threw up her hands and gave a despairing laugh. “She’s your sister! You can’t marry her!”
“The Maganians are exceptionally flexible when it comes to royal weddings, and more importantly, no, she is not my sister.”
“Everyone thinks she is.”
“Actually? No. Nobody does. That’s the whole problem, isn’t it?”
“Well, everybody has to pretend they think she is, which is the same thing.”
“Not if I declare my true identity it won’t be.”
“Your what?”
Elu didn’t answer, but stood there, lower lip jutting out, staring into the flames of a brazier.
“Elu. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I won’t live my life as a lie. That everybody knows who I am. They’re moving against me anyway. I might as well declare my true identity and be free to marry Ahktena and be myself. It’s -”
“Was this her idea?”
His face darkened. “What of it? She wants to marry me too.”
Annara gave a low laugh. “Oh ho, I’m sure she does. And you don’t see it. Do you know what would happen if you openly declared yourself Elu of Eruk, lowly commoner?”
“Let me guess. They’d try and take my power away and appoint a regent until they could have me killed?”
Annara glared at him. “Or just skip to the killing part!”
“Enough! Mother! More than enough! I am the pharaoh-to-be, not your twelve year-old boy! If I decide to declare my true identity, it won’t change my having passed the Quickening, it won’t change the fact that the lamassu have recognized me, and it won’t change the way I’m being treated! It is my decision! Not yours!”
Annara took a deep breath and turned toward the closest brazier, her anger sluicing away as she stared into its fiery depths. “Very well, Elu. At least promise me this. That you’ll wait to declare yourself after we return from Kusuj.”
“We won’t return from Kusuj, mother. They’ll kill us or hold us hostage. I’m not going. I’m going to declare my true identity, marry Ahktena, make peace with Nethena, and find a way to remove the need for a regent.”
Annara rubbed at her face, not caring if she smeared the carefully applied make-up. “You’ll be dead within the week.”
“I won’t. I told you. I’m not a child. I’ll find a way.”
How to convince him, and by doing so, save his life? He was growing into a man in truth, prickly and defensive, supremely concerned with his pride and supposed independence, willing to act the fool if it felt masculine to do so. No; she couldn’t order him and threaten him. Nor could she expect to have him understand the wisdom of her words. She could sense it - the direct line of influence that Ahktena had secured about his heart, like a coil of rope with which she was tugging him away.
Careful. The wrong word, the wrong push, and she’d lose him altogether.
“Very well,” she said. “If you wish to marry Ahktena I’ll bless the union.”
That gave him pause. “You will?”
“It’s your decision, first and foremost. And she’s a beautiful, talented, remarkably intelligent woman. She’ll make you a fine wife.” If she doesn’t try to murder you.
“I - thank you.” He still sounded stiff, as if uncertain how to cede his anger now that all resistance had crumbled so quickly. “She’ll be very happy to hear that.”
“And if you wish to declare yourself publicly as Elu, son of Acharsis, I’ll support that as well.”
“Wait a second. I can hear a condition coming. What do you demand in return?”
“I can’t demand anything of you, remember? I’m just your mother. I can but ask. Journey with me to Kusuj first. Walk their Path of Righteousness. Become fully divine, and then declare yourself whatever you want, marry whomever you want, once it’s too late for them to deny you.”
“Kusuj.” He stood there, hands on his hips, and shook his head as if marveling. “You’re obsessed with this alien ritual that nobody else believes in that they won’t let me undertake. What do you think they’ll do if the pharaoh-to-be walks into their hands? Make him divine? No. They’ll hold me ransome, use me as a bargaining chip or worse an excuse to invade Magan again and install me as their puppet ruler. No, mother. I won’t go to Kusuj. I won’t walk this Path. No.”
Annara’s shoulders slumped. All her striving, all her effort to protect him, to find a way to ensure his survival - and he was proving to be her greatest foe. And worse yet, there was wisdom to what he was saying. She had too little information on these Kusuji to guarantee his safety. Then - what? Where did that leave her? What options were left?
Thoughts spinning and whirling, she stared into the flame once more. If only she had Acharsis’ divine wit. Or Jarek’s supernatural assurance and strength. If only Scythia were her mother or grandmother, instead of simply an object of worship. Then she’d be equal to this task. Then she’d -
The thought struck her, as audacious as it was lethally ambitious.
“Mother?” Elu sounded wary.
“Very well. I can’t make you come to Kusuj. But I have one other idea that may save our situation. I ask nothing from you other than time to pursue it. One week. Give me one week before you announce your identity and intentions to marry. Do that, and I’ll ask nothing more of you, will support you in everything and give my blessings whole heartedly.”
“What are you going to do?”
“That is for me to do and you to learn a week from now. Will you do that for me, Elu? Can you wait but one week?”
“You said Pebekkamen would be killed within days.”
“Then go on a royal tour of some kind with him, set a fast pace and mislead them as to where you’re going. Not to Kusuj, fine, but anywhere else. Along the coast, to visit your mustering armies, whatever you like. Give me one week and then we’ll both meet back here and you can then do as you wish.”
Elu studied her with narrowed eyes, then sighed. “Very well. I owe you that much. One week. I’ll set up a tour of the armies - everyone will believe that I want to inspect them - and then instead head to the coast to visit our forts. That should buy us enough time. Satisfied?”
“Yes,” she said, and moved forward to kiss his brow. “Thank you.”
“I wish you’d tell me what you’re going to do,” he grumbled.
“Trust me. It’s all I ask. Speaking of, I’d best start preparing. There’s precious little time. Good night, my son. May Scythia and all the gods watch over you.”
“And you, mother.” He hesitated, then hugged her tight. “You’d better take care of yourself. Don’t make me regret this trust.”
“No regrets,” she said, reaching up to cup his cheek. It hurt to smile, but it was a good pain. “No regrets ever, my son. Farewell.”
And so saying, she turned and swept out of his royal suite, her private
guards falling in line with her, to cross the palace complex to where Pebekkamen resided.
He was awake, of course. Sprawled out beside a fountain upon a wealth of cushions, a dozen lanterns illuminating the score of empty clay cups that he’d discarded. A servant stood nervously to one side, pitcher of beer in hand, and from a distance Annara could hear the plaintive, melancholic call of a stringed instrument being played.
“Lady Annara,” said Pebekkamen, not bothering to rise. “Come to ruin my evening? I was just about starting to enjoy myself.”
Annara sat on the fountain’s edge and surveyed the empty cups. “Just about?”
“It takes more and more these days to get me going.” Pebekkamen surveyed the same cups sadly. “My curse. My… yoke to bear. The more I seek oblivion, the quicker it retreats from me. Ah! Life. It’s a pile of horse shit.”
“There’s been a change of plans.”
“I’m no longer regent! Huzzah! Let the court music people blow their horns till they’re red in the face. The first good news I’ve -”
“Senacherib will not be accompanying us to Kusuj.”
The regent reached for a new cup. “Boy’s smart. I mean, pharaoh-elect. Or whatever.”
“Instead, he’ll be doing a surprise tour of the coast. You’ll escort him but keep your destinations secret so that no assassination attempts can be attempted.”
“Tour of the coast? I can live with that.” He cocked his head to one side and narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You’re being too calm about this. What are you planning?”
“I’m going to Kusuj.” Annara sat up straight and smoothed down the fabric of her robe. “Senacherib has promised me a week’s grace before announcing his true identity and asking Ahktena to be his royal wife. I thus have seven days in which to save his life.”