by Jim Johnson
Gheti interrupted with another snort. "But we haven't seen him well, Ruia. When he got to the camp he was already beaten and shot. The man hasn't been right in a while. Hasn't been well. Who are we to fix that? We’re not gods."
Ruia sighed and found inspiration in the headcloth Gheti wore around her neck and shoulders. She focused on Gheti with a steady look, laced with all the love and compassion she had for her, her friends, and her family. "We are all that's left of our little village, Mama Gheti. There's no one else." She reached out and fingered the multicolored shawl wrapped over Gheti's shoulders. "This pattern, this weave, has new meaning for us. It means that we're the last to wear it. Our clan has come down to those of us who are left—there are no others, and there may be no others, not unless we work together and move forward together."
Someone in the crowd called out. "But for what purpose? We have no home, nowhere to go. And as gracious as the soldiers have been, their generosity is going to run out. We have no money and nothing to trade with except ourselves."
A fresh burst of chatter erupted around the room. Calls of "I will not whore myself out!" and "I guess I could work the smith" sounded, mostly laced with fear and disappointment.
Ruia raised her hands again, trying to find the words to say. Her innards spun tightly against the stress. She called upon her hekau to help calm her tattered soul. "Friends, a house of kinder gods wouldn't have handed us these challenges if they didn't think we could handle them." She wasn't quite sure where she had pulled that from and wasn't sure she believed it herself, but it seemed to quiet down the dissenters, so she pressed forward.
"We are all that's left of our clan and our village. We have been challenged and have suffered great losses." She put her hands down and folded them in front of her, and dug down deep within herself for all her earnest feelings. "We have a chance now to do something good, something positive, that we can use to help us figure out what to do next. Whether we stay on at the town, or go somewhere else, I don't know."
She stared at each of them in turn. "But I know that if and when I do leave this place for whatever awaits me next, I'd rather leave knowing I did all I could to help another person in need, than to turn my back on him and ride out without having at least tried."
She found the steel in her heart and hekau, and laced it into her next words. "That's not what I learned from this clan, and that's not what my village taught me. We don't turn people away, and we don't leave them to die alone on the frontier."
She passed another steady look over them. "Take the night to think on it. Anyone who wants to help Tjety, come with me to the temple in the morning. The rest of you...if you cannot find it in your hearts to help, then at least try to find it within your souls to offer prayers for those of us who do."
Some faces turned down in shame, though some still looked defiant. A few looked thoughtful, even outright friendly.
Ruia schooled her features, then turned and walked out into the afternoon light. She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other and to keep walking before she broke down and cried in the middle of the fort. She let her feet lead her on and she soon found herself standing outside the army stable, which smelled of cut hay and dirt and horse. She took a deep breath, remembering the smells from home, and smiled at the memory.
She glanced into the stable and found Heker a few stalls in, and moved toward him. As she approached his stall, he pulled his head out of a water bucket and flicked his ears toward her. He grunted a greeting. She reached out a hand and patted his wet nose. “Hello, my friend. I’m not sure what called me here, but I’m happy to see you.”
Heker snorted and shook his head, sending a few water droplets in every direction. She smiled and grabbed a large brush from a nearby rack and stepped underneath the rope netting stretched across his stall. She nudged Heker’s flank with the brush to encourage him to make some room, and he sidestepped to make room for her.
She started brushing him, losing herself in the simple act of grooming. As she worked, a little ditty her ma had taught her sprang to mind, and she mouthed it in time to the brush strokes.
“Come to the river, and join me in the water.
Wet your head and rinse your tears,
And clean your mind of all fears.
Come to the river, and join me in the water.”
It was a simple song, but she remembered her ma singing it to her and her sisters with such heartfelt joy. She paused in her singing and clutched the simple lapis amulet her ma had given her. She closed her eyes. “Oh dread and mighty Lord Osiris. By now the ba of my mother has come to you and sought judgment for the hereafter. I hope with all my heart that she was judged well and now resides with joy in the Field of Reeds with my pa and Paneb. Would that I could see a sign that it was so.”
Ruia let go of the amulet and resumed brushing. A cloud of dust and horse fur floated up on a sudden breeze, and for just a moment, took the form of a simple rectangular hieroglyph. She blinked and then it was gone, but the image was branded onto her mind’s eye. She couldn’t read, but all children were taught the basic signs. The one she had seen represented “home”. Hot tears sprang to her eyes as she felt a pulse within her hekau and the amulet pressed against her neck.
She pressed her face into Heker’s flank and breathed deeply. He smelled of dust and horse. “A sign, Heker! Surely a sign from the gods.”
Heker snorted and buried his nose in his water bucket again and drank noisily. The moment broken, she patted his flank and then smiled. “Insane? Perhaps. This whole thing is insane.”
She moved around him and nudged his other flank. He obediently shifted to give her space to brush his other side, never removing his nose from the water bucket. “It was so hard leaving that tent, not knowing what kind of response I would get in the morning. Some of my friends seemed willing to help, but others…their hearts were closed.”
She brushed Heker a while longer. “Honestly, Heker, I thought about drawing my pistol and putting a few shots into the air to get their attention, but I don’t think that would have helped. Good thing I kept my head.”
Heker finished drinking and pulled his head up, and then kicked the empty bucket over with a swat from his foreleg.
She patted his back a couple times. “I’ll get you some more water, you ninny.” She moved underneath the stall netting again and grabbed the bucket. Somehow she had lost a couple hours of the day. She found a water pump out behind the stable and refilled the bucket, noting that several of the stalls were empty. Perhaps the soldiers were out patrolling or chasing after the bandits who had attacked.
She returned to Heker’s stall and placed the water bucket in it. She put the brush back where she found it and grabbed an armful of clean hay from a large pile near the back of the stables. She dropped it into Heker’s stall and felt a grumble from her stomach.
“Guess I better go get something to eat, Heker.” She reached out and scratched at his chin while he nosed around in the hay. “Your friend Tjety isn’t doing well, but I’m hoping to help him in the morning.”
She considered what she’d just said. “Even if no one helps me, I’ll go to the temple and help Tjety and the priests myself. I owe him that much, at least.”
Heker nodded a couple times then started to eat. She watched him for a few moments, then turned and headed for the senet house. She tried to push the worries and sadness aside as best she could, but even with a draw of strength from her hekau, she knew it was going to be a long, lonely night.
CHAPTER 9
HERIKHET BOWED HIS HEAD AND CLOSED the gilt wooden cabinet, which housed the elegant marble statue representing the presence of the mighty Lord Amun-Re in this humble temple.
He licked his fingertips and pinched out the thin tapers set to either side of the cabinet, and then closed the lid on the brazier, snuffing out the smoldering, pungent incense burning within. As Usemi walked by with the baskets of fresh food offerings, he called her over and relieved her of the baskets.
“Go and take some rest, Usemi. You deserve it.” The girl had been sulking all day. “Join me after sunset for the evening devotionals.”
She glared at him from under hooded eyes, then focused on the ground between them. “Yes, Priest Herikhet. I’ll check on our patients and then be in my quarters if you have need of me until then.”
He gave her a kindly smile, and then busied himself with sorting the food donations between the temple’s stockroom and the baskets outside the temple gate. Per tradition, the temple kept the best of the offerings and distributed the rest to those in need.
Those duties finished, he went to his private chambers and pulled two healing texts off his desk and tucked them under his arm and then grabbed a wineskin from its hook. He ambled over to the room where the Ranger—Tjety, that girl had called him—laid still and quiet. He rested the scrolls on the small dresser in the room and stepped over to the Ranger’s cot.
Herikhet rested one hand on Tjety’s forehead. The young man was unconscious and burning up from fever, but still breathing. He then reached out with his hekau. At first he didn’t sense anything, but then…what? A tremor coursed through the arcane energies and then he felt the the feather-light touch of someone divine passing by. Herikhet frowned, and focused more closely. The Ranger was somewhere in there, fighting for his life, and it seemed he had a little help.
Herikhet pulled back his senses and took his hand away from Tjety’s forehead. “Your body may be broken, son, but somewhere in there you’ve got a will to live…a will stronger than I’ve seen from anyone in a damned long time.” He patted Tjety’s hand. “You keep fighting. We’ll be there to help you soon.”
He changed the cool compress on Tjety’s head and left the door open a crack, hoping to flow some fresh air into the room. Even though the man was still alive, he stank of sweat and blood.
Herikhet retrieved his scrolls and then settled himself into the lone chair set against the wall. He reached out and turned up the lever on the oil lantern, creating more light to read by. The soft yellow glow cast shadows around the room and on Tjety's young face.
With compassion in his heart, Herikhet studied Tjety. Things had to be grim in the south for the empire if they were sending such young Rangers out into the field. This one looked barely old enough to shave, though he did have several days’ growth of stubble on his chin and cheeks.
If the Rangers were bringing in youngsters for training and then field work, he couldn't begin to guess what the status of the pharaoh's army might be. Were the veterans all doing so well in the field that they didn't need young men as new recruits? Was the southern border secure and so they were sending the newer Rangers north to gather experience?
He shook his head as he took a swig from his wineskin. "Your presence here is a child's puzzle box, my friend." He stared at Tjety and then took another pull from the wineskin. "I sure as sand wish I had all the pieces to see the larger structure."
He dropped one of the two scrolls onto the floor, then unrolled the second and scanned the major breaks in the text, the first lines of each major section written out in red ink that stood out against the black lettering of the rest of the text.
He found the section on working a major hekau healing where significant infection had set in, and started reviewing the words and incantations, working through the writing from right to left as it had been written.
About a third of the way through he caught his mind wandering, and he paused long enough to take another swig of wine and to glance again at Tjety.
The Ranger’s presence on the frontier really gnawed at him, and he just could not let it go. He snorted at himself. All the more reason to get him healed up so that they could talk and get to the heart of the matter.
Herikhet glanced at the stack of clothing and gear the Ranger had on when he was brought in. He hadn't had a chance to go through it as yet, partly because he'd been busy tending to the other wounded. Whatever was in that stack was probably none of his damned business. But, he wondered if there might be some answers in there.
He had a powerful urge to drop the scroll and to check out the Ranger's satchels and goods, but…no. It was more important to heal him first.
Herikhet refocused on the scroll and worked steadily through the rest of the afternoon, drinking the wineskin dry and finishing off the last of the bread that Ruia had brought to the temple.
His eyes were bleary and unfocused when Usemi knocked on the door jamb and looked in.
"Priest? Is everything all right? I didn't see you in the preparation chamber and it's nearly time for evening devotionals."
Herikhet massaged the bridge of his nose and blinked several times to steady his vision. He'd had too little food to sop up the wine. He pushed himself to his feet and nodded at her. "Right you are, Usemi. I was caught up reading the texts and lost track of the time."
She covered a disapproving look and then glanced at the Ranger. "How is he? Will he live?"
Herikhet gathered up his scrolls and the empty wineskin. "Hard to say. He's young and strong, and seems to want to live. He's got a strong ba. If we get to him promptly tomorrow, he stands as good a chance as anyone with his wounds."
“We do have a god to tend to, first.”
He gestured toward the doorway. "Then let's make our observances and then get a good night's sleep."
She led the way to the preparation room, but before they got started, he touched her arm to get her attention. She glanced at him as she pulled her gold and white vestments off the hook near the entrance to the god's domicile.
"Usemi, I want you to know that I very much value your assistance and your presence here in the temple. You're excellent with those who need care and your attention to the god is exemplary, sometimes more devout than even my own."
He offered her a smile, noting her look of confusion in the crinkling of her brow. He made a mental note to remember to offer her more regular praise when it was warranted—he had clearly been lax in that area. "I will be relying on you more than usual tomorrow. I know your gifts in the hekau are modest as yet, but I also know that you have been trained in using what you have, and that's a lot more than many priests can say."
Her face flushed at the compliment. He continued. "I'm going to be working a very dangerous litany tomorrow, and I expect to be going very deep into the healing paths with this Ranger. I'm going to need you to help my body remember the basic things, like breathing."
Usemi’s eyes widened as the enormity of the task ahead of them struck home.
He said, "Perhaps I didn't explain this well enough, but reviewing the texts reminded me that I can’t do this alone."
She gave him the tenderest look he could remember getting from her. "You know you can rely on me, Priest."
He rested one hand on her shoulder. "I have no doubt of that, Usemi. I just wanted you to know that you have my complete confidence. I will be literally putting my life into your hands tomorrow. Think on that, and pray for us tonight."
She nodded, and he caught what might have been a tear in her eyes. He was surprised to feel them welling up in his own. He smiled once more, patted her on the shoulder, and then led her into the god's domicile to pay their respects and to put the god at ease before nightfall.
The litany and ceremony went well, possibly one of the best they had performed since Usemi had arrived four months ago to be his acolyte and junior priest. He was encouraged by the way they worked together effortlessly through the service, and told her as much after they had completed their offerings to the god and were changing out of their formal vestments.
"Thank you, Priest. I nearly stumbled through the fifth verse, but felt I rallied well enough."
He nodded as he hung up his vestments. "While I may quibble about certain points of your bedside manner and your theology, I have no issues with your devotion to the god, Usemi. You are a fine acolyte and I daresay you will make a damned fine priest in due course."
She blushed at that, the color adding somethi
ng attractive to her normally ruddy complexion.
They walked together to the entrance to the temple. She glanced at him. "Are you going to that horrible senet house again?"
He smiled at the disapproval in her tone. "Privilege of the title. When you're a priest yourself, you'll understand."
Usemi shook her head. "I just don't understand the draw of such a place to a devoted priest of the one most high."
Herikhet grinned as he raked a hand along the bottom of his chin. "It's the best place in town for a shave, Usemi. Not something you have to worry about." He winked and turned toward the town.
As a junior priest with no salary and no home of her own, Usemi had quarters in the temple, not far from where the injured rested. There were actually four small quarters, each intended to house a junior priest, but his superiors back in Waset City had not seen fit to bless him with more than just Usemi as acolyte. He guessed that the frontier was no place for novice priests and also figured they were probably waiting to see what happened with the Hesso and the pharaoh's armies before committing more anointed brothers and sisters to a frontier temple.
He glanced toward the tall spire of the old sun temple, which dominated the eastern skyline even in its ruined state. Once upon a time this area had been teeming with devoted citizens, a town that tithed plenty of food and deben to the church, and a united kingdom with a focused, strong pharaoh and government. Those days had fallen by the wayside, swept aside by the Hesso like the worst floods swept away everything in their path.
Most of the old temple still stood, silent sentinel over the past glories of the empire and of the church. As he approached the senet house, he wondered if those glory days would ever return again.
He entered the senet house and requested his usual room and a bath and a shave. In short order, he was naked and at ease in a metal washtub, with a pair of nubile young women pouring alternating buckets of hot and cold water on him and scrubbing his skin hard with precious bath salts.
Feeling pleasantly buzzed and fully abraded from nose to toes, Herikhet settled back into the tub and took a gulp of warm beer from a bowl the younger girl, Iba, kept filled all through the bath.