The Celestial Conspiracies

by Talhi Briones

  She had nothing to say on her own engagement. Faced with the rejoicing, encouragements, cries of joy, and applause, Soromeh only wanted to run down the stairs and flee the palace.

  * * *

  Iram, Barak, and Onamu sat on the hallway floor, in front of the princess’s quarters. Dewei, who was on guard duty, had tried to chase them off, but Soromeh had forgotten to give them permission to leave. Inside, the screams of rage were accompanied by noises of destruction.

  “That’s the clay vase that was near the window,” guessed Barak.

  “A statue!” shouted Onamu, happy to be playing. “The falcon one!”

  A louder crash made them jump.

  “The chair,” said Iram, growing pale.

  The yelling started again. After a while, Iram grimaced and covered Onamu’s ears.

  Barak rolled his eyes. “I’m sure the kid heard worse in the streets.”

  Dewei’s eyebrows were almost at his hairline. “One wonders where her majesty heard these expressions. Some of these words aren’t even Egyptian.”

  Soromeh’s ranting was punctuated with hits of a chair leg to the table.

  To everyone’s relief, Damon appeared at the end of the hallway. He stopped in front of the prostrated servants.

  “I see that my lovely future bride banished you again. Take some time off, you three. Seek cover from the storm.”

  Barak and Onamu left quickly, but Iram hesitated, eyes on the door.

  “Go,” said Damon with an awkward smile. “I’ll see that she doesn’t cut herself with the sharp pieces of her devastation.”

  “Sire is kind.”

  Iram left, and Damon gathered his courage before opening the doors.

  Soromeh was standing in the middle of the living area, red from anger, her hair a complete mess, her makeup running from sweat and tears. She was holding a chair leg, her furious eyes on her fiancé.

  “Why are you here?” she yelled. “I want to see no one, least of all you! Leave!”

  “We need to talk.”

  Her voice came out all strangled and wrong. “Since when does a man lower himself to speak with his betrothed? Am I not just a nice portrait to be added to your funeral vault? A way to ensure the lineage of the royal family? A plot to give you more power?”

  “Soromeh! I understand your anger, but there’s no need to insult me. I’m as powerless as you are in all this.”

  “I’m sure you fought so hard against it! Of course, marrying the daughter of a king doesn’t advantage you in any way, or does it?”

  “Would you rather marry one of these court wrecks that only want your title and fortune? Kamilah did it! Do you want to open your bed to a husband thrice your age and spend your life spawning him children?”

  “I don’t want to share my bed with you either, Damon!”

  “We agree on this, at least. When will you understand that I don’t want this marriage either?”

  “When you’ll stop acting like my brother’s puppet!”

  “May Osiris grant me the patience… Listen. Things are simple. Floods and sandstorms won’t be able to stop this wedding. But we can still turn this to our advantage.”

  She slowly lowered the chair leg. “Speak.”

  “My duty is to keep you and your fortune safe. Yours is to give me heirs. We have no control over this.”

  Soromeh opened her mouth to protest, but Damon raised a hand. “Whatever happens behind closed doors only concerns us. Soromeh, I’m not forcing you to be faithful. You can pick whoever you want. Even your companion, Ira—”

  “Mind your own business,” she warned.

  “All right. You always did whatever you wanted. In exchange, I will have the same freedom.”

  Her laughter was mean. “That’s your plan! I should have known. You’ve been hiding a lover for years, and you finally found a way to be with her without losing your place at the palace. You know, I believed for so long that it was Misha, but Misha’s dead, and you keep disappearing all the time. Who is it, Damon?”

  He crossed his arms defensively, avoiding her eyes.

  She grew more acidic. “Is it a slave? A servant? Someone who would lower the prestige of your rank? Or a woman of the court, who already has a husband? Someone you can’t marry without losing your current nobility, the riches and power they promised you when they betrothed you to me?”

  “I thought you knew me better than this!”

  “Oh, Damon, I know you, I know you’re doing this for love,” she spat. “You love that woman, you love Sethy and you love me, you love this palace, and you love Egypt and the duty you have for the kingdom! That doesn’t change the fact that you’re using me to get what you want!”

  He lowered his head. “You’re right. I’m using you to keep everything I hold dear.”

  “Then choose! The one you love or your life at the palace!”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Damon.”

  He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye.

  “It’s your brother.”

  A silence. Damon, nervous, kept talking. “Sethy and I are… lovers. We should have told you, but we got used to secrecy. It was hard to find a time or a way… I know there are other men like us, who don’t need to hide, but the king would never be allowed to live like this. You need to understand. We looked through hundreds of law records, but there’s no mention of a situation like ours.”

  Soromeh let out a deep sigh and lost all of her anger. She turned her back on him and went to lean on the balcony railing. After a moment of hesitation, Damon joined her.

  “I hope you’re proud,” she said. “If it gets out, all the women of Egypt will mourn your loss. Their tears will flood the Nile out of season. The crops will drown.”

  “I hope you understand how important it is to keep this secret.”

  “Don’t think I’ve completely forgiven you. You both lied to me for too long. But I understand. And I want your happiness, yours and Sethy’s. You’re happy, aren’t you?”

  Damon had the smallest hesitation. “Yes, of course. Does this mean you’ll marry me without causing more trouble?”

  “I promise I will marry you. I promise nothing else.”

  * * *

  The following days saw an unusual amount of activity in the princess’s quarters. A constant stream of servants came at first light to prepare the future bride. They were all surprised to find her in a strangely cooperative mood. She smiled and let herself be measured, groomed, and perfumed and even listened to the lectures on the ceremonial process without a comment.

  She exchanged her ample and comfortable dresses for ones made out of fine and translucent fabric, as was the norm for noble women. She started greeting the court members, talked to them, and even invited some to share a meal in her chambers.

  The princess’s private reception room, so far used only as storage, was emptied and cleaned. It took the servants an entire day to bring it back to its past glory.

  That day, Soromeh had invited Antef, one of her numerous half-brothers born from the harem. She had never talked to him voluntarily, as he was known to be one of the most persisting honey flies, always offering help and compliments to the legitimate heirs.

  “And then my captain took me aside and told me that no one had ever passed that test in such a short amount of time,” he told her with pride.

  “How fascinating,” said Soromeh at regular intervals.

  Barak was tasked with keeping Antef’s cup full. The first service was not even over, but the young noble was already slurring his words, his face flushed. He spoke with grand gestures and eventually hit the platter that Iram was carrying. The delicate bites rolled all over the floor.

  “Slave!” snapped Soromeh. “You should be ashamed of yourself!”

  Iram groveled before Antef. “I am so sorry, sire, I shouldn’t have stood in your way.”

  “Yes, of course,” blurted the noble. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.” />
  Soromeh lifted her nose with arrogance. “Slave, pick it up and go get ten lashes.”

  “Yes, your highness, immediately and with great pleasure.”

  Iram cleaned and left the room. Soromeh glared at Barak and Onamu. The child hid behind the giant fan he was holding, not in fear but in laughter.

  “I expect perfect service in front of my guests. The slightest mistake will get you punished.”

  Antef stared at Soromeh with open admiration.

  “You rule your domain with an iron hand, your majesty.”

  “One must. Since I am fated to rule Egypt.”

  She gasped and placed a hand over her mouth.

  “By Isis, I said too much.”

  “What do you mean, your majesty? Rule Egypt?”

  “Forget what I said. No one should know.”

  “Your highness! You have my loyalty!”

  “Do you swear that nothing I tell you will leave this room?”

  “I swear on Osiris himself.”

  She seemed to think deeply. “You are my father’s son, after all. I think you deserve my trust.”

  Antef sat straight, his torso full of pride.

  Soromeh leaned over the table. “The crown went to my brother, for he is a male heir,” she whispered. “But once I am married to Vizier Damon, I will have power equal to his or Kamilah’s. If he ever fell in disgrace…”

  She let him imagine the rest.

  “Your highness, I am at your service,” he said, his eyes huge. “Ask me what you need, and I’ll do it in your name!”

  She smiled. “You are worthy of my trust. I will remember the names of the ones who helped me.” She turned to Barak. “Slave, the box.”

  Barak left them the wine jar and disappeared into the next room.

  “My brother is using this wedding to gather respect,” she said with sincere annoyance. “He looks for the admiration of dignitaries and wants to ensure their loyalty by blinding them with riches. I refuse to make it easier for him.”

  Barak came back, carrying a wooden box that he placed between them. Soromeh motioned at Antef to get closer and removed the cover with extravagance. A group of scorpions were crawling at the bottom. Antef yelped in horror and moved back. Soromeh snickered.

  “Your majesty! Why? I don’t understand what’s so funny! Scorpions! They’re the death that haunts the desert!”

  She leaned over the box. “There’s nothing to fear. These ones aren’t deadly. Their sting will, at most, cause some numbness. But they do look like ‘the death that haunts the desert.’ Enough to be of use.”

  “Of use—how?”

  “I want them to be released in the library, tomorrow morning.”

  “They will create a panic!”

  “That’s the goal. With some luck, the library will have to be evacuated, and the scribes will lose an entire workday trying to find these babies.”

  “I—I don’t know if—”

  Someone knocked. Hermes, wearing the royal scribe’s uniform, leaned in the doorway, a smile in his eyes.

  “Scribe Cicero!” said Soromeh. “Is it time for my lesson already?”

  “Yes, your highness. I can come back later, if you wish to finish your scheming first. Oh, are those scorpions?”

  He looked at the box and, to Antef’s horror, grabbed one by the tail.

  “Beautiful creatures. They’re going to create quite a commotion!”

  Soromeh couldn’t hide a smile, the first real one that morning. “The one you’re holding is called Ardir. See, his pincers are paler. Here, that’s Ney-choo, this one is Rhame-Ereb, and that one is Netchou-Ereh, with a missing leg.”

  Antef was disgusted. “How can you hold this thing in your hand?”

  “These little creatures don’t scare me,” said Hermes, putting the scorpion back in the box. “Do you need me to release them in the library, your highness? I can go in there without raising suspicion.”

  “You would do that?” she asked, surprised.

  “Just wait a moment!” said Antef. “Her majesty asked this of me first!”

  “I’ll find you something else to do,” she waved dismissively. “Something that won’t imply scorpions. Hm, there, I got it. Fill the garden pools with frogs.”

  “How am I supposed to accomplish this miracle?”

  She shrugged. “The palace children are easy to hire. Pay them in toys, and they’ll get all the tadpoles you need from the Nile. There, you have your orders. I shall always remember the day you helped me.”

  He blurted many thanks and staggered out.

  Hermes was watching Soromeh with a raised eyebrow. “You are frightening. Remind me to never cross you.”

  * * *

  The first hours of the afternoon brought with them a heavy sun that made the palace hallways unbearably hot and stifling. Nobles and servants alike digested the midday meal under the shade in the palace gardens.

  Anubis had joined them reluctantly. He sat under a tree, unmoving, in his human form. He had spoken little since his return from Hell, and Bastet had enough of his sulking and forced him to leave Naími’s quarters.

  Aïden had reluctantly agreed to humanize her form but had refused to exit the palace until they found clothes that covered her from head to toe. Her eyes, still slightly too amber, were the only visible part of her. She was crouched near Anubis, constantly scanning the gardens and always coming back to a group of musicians playing near the main pool. In the center of everyone’s attention was a dancer.

  Bastet had switched her feline head for a human one, with long dark hair and an enticing smile. She moved to the rhythm of the drums and sistrums, her bracelets glinting under the sun.

  Aïden hissed in warning. “There are people approaching her.”

  “Palace dancers,” explained Anubis lazily. “The girls probably want lessons. Keep your fangs in.”

  The demon stared at the girls and pulled a handful of grass. Anubis didn’t know what to think about Bastet’s new paranoid guardian.

  Aïden suddenly turned to glare at three people walking their way. Anubis recognized the companions of Princess Soromeh. The youngest ran to the musicians, while the other two stared at Bastet. Anubis took pity on them and invited them under the shade. There was a crowd under every other tree, but no one had dared approach the Netcheroo.

  One of the Hebrew teens stepped under the foliage, but the other one blurted something and walked away briskly. Anubis raised an eyebrow. Humans generally were uneasy around him, but few of them completely panicked at his mere presence.

  “Sit, my friend,” he told the bowing teen. “The sun is harsh, and the grass is fresh. Come share my wine.”

  “Sire is kind, but I don’t know if I should.”

  “Don’t waste your courtesies. I’m just a visitor. Maybe you know my cousin, the oracle Naími?”

  “Of course! Lady Naími and my mistress, Her Highness the Princess Soromeh, are great friends.”

  “Another reason to sit with us. Drink some wine, and let’s talk about women with strong personalities, as I like them. What is your name, my friend?”

  “Iram,” he said, kneeling and accepting a cup.

  “May Horus protect you, Iram. You may call me Anpu. The wild animal behind me is Aïden.”

  The demon had not stopped glaring since his arrival.

  “It’s an honor,” answered Iram automatically.

  “Tell me about your mistress, kid. They say her wedding with the vizier will be the greatest celebration in dynasties. I guess she must shiver in anticipation?”

  “Of course,” lied Iram. “Her majesty can’t stay still.”

  “And what does she think about the rumors of a curse on her wedding?”

  “A curse, sire? What do you mean by that?”

  Anubis shrugged, repeating what Bastet had told him through the days. “Apparently, that’s what they mutter in the hallways. What else could explain the series of misfortunes that has been raining on the preparations? They lost the cer
emonial texts and found them in the sacred leopard’s cage, the kitchens had a serious worm problem, and the doves from the throne room all mysteriously suffered from indigestion at the same time and ruined the floor. That’s not counting the traffic on the esplanade and on the Nile or the royal guards’ foul mood. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that a flock of wild ibis had invaded the temples.”