On a slight earthen mound that lay not far from the encampment, she spread out her wrap on brittle, sunburnt grass, then sat cross-legged and stared up at the sky. The guards silently went to one knee on each side of her, cocking their heads as if they waited impatiently for her next action.
One made a soft, guttural growl as she touched his huge black shoulder where it had been hurt in the hunt almost a month earlier.
“Go, brothers. Run free and take your kill, but do not stray. Bring me a piece of the heart while it still bleeds. You know my needs.”
Her words seldom finished before the guards, now on all fours, bent, crunched, and folded into two beautiful, night-colored lions. As soon as their new shapes had firmed, they scampered away in newfound freedom.
She hadn’t realized the secret of her guards at first. When Marai had come to collect her, she sensed his thought that the guards weren’t human. It gave her pause because she, like Maatkare, had thought these hulking guards were slow-witted mutes, given as gifts by the sepat prince of Qustul. Now the gift had deeper meaning. It was a sign of something; a god-gift.
After the hunt that nearly took the prince from his life and from her, at a time when he had been miserable and had loudly rejected her, they came to console her by nuzzling her and butting her with their heads. She began to realize the truth about them, if only by some hidden instinct. One night she led them away from camp and gave them permission to shift.
Somehow, she had known the words to say that would break the spell holding them in the shape of men. That had shocked her even more than their changing shape and running off into the grass. Now, the event seemed commonplace. Whenever she felt uneasy, she went walking to let them run.
He’ll find out soon enough, she thought of Maatkare. His stone should have told him about Rutiy and Sutiy; that at least there was something different about them. How will he be, when he knows of them? She shook her head and forced the thoughts of that nature from her by thinking of the past.
Tonight, she thought of the Poors neighborhood across the river from Ineb Hedj where Marai, Ari and Naibe had worked and lived with her while he waited for contact from the priests.
For that whole year, she sat in the window above the plaza, mimicking Marai’s story of the way he would sing to his goddess when he lived in the wilderness. She cast her thoughts to the winds, calling that restless, angry spirit forth and into her heart.
You knew what I was doing, didn’t you Man-sun, because you were still partly guided by my Ta-Te. But you felt his pull and like the stubborn and proud man you are, you hardened your heart against him. Thus, I hardened my heart against you. Sometimes… she bowed her head, realizing she was still full of regret for passing up such a healing wonder of a man. Sometimes I wonder how life would have been if we had joined. Would you, Marai, have healed Ta-Te’s soul along with mine since we are bound one to another? No. I cannot believe even you would have been able.
As she thought of him even now, she felt the ghost of his big and warm arms around her body, making her feel as if she was a tiny thing; fragile, yet protected. The night at the well when he begged her to allow him into her soul replayed in her memory. She told him she could not yet, but knew she would so soon.
It should have gone on. In one or two more evenings, your love and tenderness would have won me, Man-sun. I was just afraid of you; afraid of us.
Fly.
A voice, soundless at first but deep in her thoughts, told her to fly again.
Ta-Te! her heart leapt. She had heard him calling her precious few times since she woke mangled and near death by the side of the river. For many years, as she traveled from man to man and as her situations grew increasingly dire, all she recalled were spotty memories. She had been a queen. No, she had been more. She had been a goddess betrayed. Over time she refused to think that this one she called Ta-Te had been the architect of her misery.
He loved me! I know he did. Some force in the universe; some fate tore us apart.
When she saw Marai encounter N’ahab-atal as a storm personified by the roar of a bull and the aura of black lightning, she had recognized Ta-Te in him and had wondered where his rage went after he killed the men. When she was reborn whole, he shied from her body and the goodness of their power together she realized:
It’s not Ta-Te, or if he is Ta-Te, he doesn’t remember it. Ta-Te would have owned my body and overwhelmed with such pleasure that I could do naught but die a thousand times in his mighty arms… like it is with Raem.
When the Inspector came, she felt Ta-Te’s power come screaming through the curious crystal disc the man wore. She welcomed his spirit into their bodies and Marai lay down with all of them in something that surpassed the physical joy but turned wicked and horrific for all of them instead.
But why, Ta-Te? She had begged the answer but never received one. Tonight, she heard him speak again.
Fly.
The voice sounded. This time it was louder, but it had the familiar soothing pattern of Marai’s consoling voice.
You know you can.
I know you understand me, Nefira, my heart.
Nefira, my heart, her thoughts repeated, then chilled and clamored to such an extent that she felt them rising like a sob. He called me Nefira the way Raem, my Raem, does… but it is the voice of Man-sun. She looked up as if she expected to see him, but saw only empty nighttime air. In the distance, she heard snarls and growls. The lions had taken something and were feasting. Soon they would return with the tribute and watch her nourish herself with it before they resumed their human form. Then they would return to the camp to rest before dawn drills commenced. Maatkare would get up and leave her alone, assuming the child she carried had sapped her strength.
Tonight, she hoped the guards would take a little longer.
“Ta-Te, are you near me? Are you near your Deka?” she whispered aloud, as if the whisper could amplify her thoughts.
I have always been here, within soul… within skin.
“Then why have you not answered my cry? Why have you not returned to me?” Deka didn’t know whether to feel hurt or bewildered.
It was not time.
You were not ready to know me.
But now the time nears.
Nefira Deka’s heart pounded in her chest until she thought it would stop. Ta-Te. I’ve waited so long and searched so greatly. It was all for you.
And yet, I still need your assistance.
The vessel I have chosen falters, willful of much.
Even now, the primordial waters from which I will again rise
Have muddied.
Cleanse him of doubt
This you know.
It is printed on your heart.
Then, as if it had only been a random spirit, the voice faded like smoke.
The lions arrived. One, Rutiy, dropped a warm but erratically trembling piece of meat into Deka’s outstretched hands. She felt her fangs begin to descend in hunger. She eagerly fed on the piece, not caring that her looks were becoming more catlike. When she finished, she gagged slightly as if the human part of her form still rebelled at the fresh blood and meat. Nodding to the lions, she licked her lips and wiped her hands on her skirt. The two guards stood with her now and turned to go to the camp.
Prince Maatkare Raemkai woke from a deep slumber. The dream that roused him now evaded him. When he stretched out his arm to touch the woman who slept perched on the edge of his couch, his hand came up empty. He opened one eye, still pretending to be motionless, acting as if his arm had flailed in a dream.
The tent was empty.
For several moments he lay quietly, assuming she had risen to relieve herself, but she didn’t return.
Now where has she gone? he focused his thoughts on his surroundings. You thought to get away from me, sorceress… to fly back to your sojourner and your monkey-woman friends, but you forget I can track you now.
He sat, feeling a slight shift in air that didn’t even qualify as a breeze, sniffed at the s
cent she left, and decided she was still near enough for it to be of little concern. Silly me. I’m getting obsessed and don’t need to be. She wouldn’t have invested in me if she cared so little that she would bolt when I slept. She would have let me die from my wounds those weeks ago. The guards will know where she is.
Maatkare reached for his simple kilt, wrapped his loins with it, and made his way to the flap of the tent. Her personal guards were gone.
“Sst…” he beckoned to his own guard and when the man snapped to attention he strode up to his face: “You’d better know where the woman and her men went if you like your life,” he spoke through his teeth.
The man jumped and stiffened in harder reverence.
“Your Highness,” he stammered, “they went out into the grass. She went to pray and they to watch that she was safe.”
“And you sound as if you know they have done this often.” The prince toed the ground looking down and trying to decide if he should deliver a fatal roundhouse punch to the guard’s temple. “She gives you separate orders to stay silent on this?”
“N-No, Highness. I thought it was with your knowledge…” the man winced in expectation.
Maatkare slapped the guard open-handed, then reminded him: “Only reason I didn’t put you on the ground is because I am down a few guards at this point in my journey and normally you wouldn’t come to such stupid decisions.” He was about to ask the man if he was drunk, but instead grumbled, turned, and left the man rubbing the sting out of his face.
Stalking into the tent, he opened the box containing the stones the sojourner had given him.
Damn woman, he stared at the stones and seized the curved blade resting on top of them. I should kill one of your precious guards to teach you a lesson.
Young Raem, a spirit voice broke through, as if a ghost stood beside him. I need your focus on a matter.
“You dare. Een…” he raised his hand to dispel the unwelcome presence, but sensed the sound of applause and the ring of familiar, but devious, laughter.
“You like to use those words I carefully taught you, don’t you? But enough of that. It’s taken me forever to get to you on an important matter. Do you have a spell of protection about you; one I don’t recognize?”
“Hordjedtef. Oh, please let this be a demon of the night,” the prince grumbled.
“Respectful of me as always,” came the ethereal response. “If my vision serves me well, I see you sleep alone tonight. And, oh… I see you have the neter stones before you.”
Maatkare was glad he had tucked the magical blade under his leg before the vision of the elder cleared. He instinctively touched his brow to make certain Hordjedtef wouldn’t know he had become a host. His forehead was flat.
“And?” the prince snapped.
“In one of your famous moods, I see.”
“You have a reason for stalking my night? Say your piece and go.”
“First. Is that all the neter stones? You persuaded Lady ArreNu to give up the hiding place of the other eight? Or are you still working on her?”
Maatkare considered lying for an instant, even though he knew Hordjedtef was aware he didn’t have them and was trying to gloat. His instinct objected.
“Before I answer that, I feel there is another reason you are taunting me in the night. You speak it to me and perhaps I’ll fill in any missing knowledge of yours.”
“Well, right to the point then. Are you aware that the so-called husband of the women in your care has leapt forth from the netherworld, whole, well, and with a need to visit you?” Hordjedtef’s information drifted through the ether like a statement that possessed an internal question: But you know that, don’t you?
“He was here,” Maatkare couldn’t hide his irritation at that moment.
“And, of course, you and your troops slaughtered him where he stood?” the shade of the elder quipped as if he knew the answer to that question, too.
Maatkare wanted to show the elder prince everything that had happened and that he had more untapped power and ability than the old man might ever suspect, but knew he needed to seem humble until he fully understood his new skills.
“I considered gutting that wild ox when he came here making his demands, but I allowed him to live and run back to the Akaru’s waiting arms. That old man has become a major thorn in my sandal now; tried to scare me into turning away with a load of prophecies about weather, curses, and whatnot. I stirred the pot a bit and he sent a few hot-bloods out, but I smote them. As for the women who were given me from the King’s bedroom, I sent them and that wdjat you’ve been drooling over and the eight neter stones plus a few more with them,” he paused sensing first shock, then rage.
“Don’t fret, Grandfather. I have a plan to thwart this and the big fool took the bait. He thinks he can summon the rest, but it is I who will call them. See, I still have the Ta-Seti woman because she pleases me and is still of use to me. I have a plan to handle the scourge when I am ready. Now, go,” Maatkare turned his face from the translucent form and stared at the stones again. “I was about to scry them when your ka walked to spy on me.”
“Just checking to see, and to tell you one more thing that might make you want to quicken your plan.”
“Already know, dear grandfather. The sojourner told me Menkaure died. Is that what you and your priests are wetting yourselves over? Because you now have Shepseskaf, Bunefer, and our ever pliable Khentkawes to handle as they sit on the Golden Throne?” Maatkare spoke out of the corner of his mouth.
“Well excuse my error…” the ethereal form of the elder priest began to withdraw with a parting stab. “I thought you aspired to sit there yourself at one time. You were eager enough for it when Lady Meryt kept you as her pet,” the spirit clucked.
Maatkare fought hard to keep from showing his wrath.
“Make… your… point!” he blazed, feeling his fingers itch to become claw and fighting it.
“It’s known Shepseskaf has even less ferocity than his father, but I’m working that through the Great daughter and her consort. What you need to do is give him a reason to leave Ineb Hedj and while he is gone arrange for his demise as it was done with my brother Kawab. I have deduced that my master Djed Djedi may have been given orders to spirit me away when that travesty occurred long ago.”
“I’m still waiting for this point to air itself.”
“The small rebellion? Call it an affront to the king or whatever you need to do. Start something before I decide you, too, are slack in the balls… or has your sorceress conspired to keep them thus drained?”
The prince growled, near to changing shape in fury. He had wanted to do this, without luring Shepseskaf, when he first learned of Menkaure’s death. The thought that his grandfather would give himself credit for the inspiration was almost too much. That he mentioned the Ta-Seti woman as being part of the plan to goad him into action was even worse.
“Ah,” the specter of Hordjedtef faded in what seemed satisfaction. “So, she is good for you. She comes of a proud warrior stock. I have no proof of it; just a sense, but she could be the very creature to breathe life into these sesen snorting Hetharas and their seer-visions. Even my Saetephtah was worried about her power when we first plucked the three of them from their nasty marketplace.”
“A war? With the Akaru? You are aware that won’t be easy, given his influence,” Maatkare repeated. He had tried that, but the Akaru’s godlike status among his people had only begun to erode. The slaughter of the boys had driven a wedge, but it was too soon to collect the benefit of any unrest that caused. An attack now might solidify the Ta-Seti villages.
“And my own sacrifices must be made,” the elder suggested. “I have a sesh who governs Buhen to the south when he is not active in my service-Apedemeketep; blood grandson of the Akaru. Take Buhen from him. Burn it to the ground. Seize him, but do not harm him if it can be avoided. If it can’t…” the spectral image appeared to shake its head. “Then, when it is done, you and your troops withdraw – but no
t in cowardice. Bring Aped to us as a hostage, if he survives. Make a story of how he burnt his own place to implicate you. I will verify it, but plead for mercy for him. Shepseskaf will then be forced to lead a campaign of conquest from which he, perhaps, will not return. He is a diplomat, not a warrior.”
“You have a truly benighted soul,” Maatkare half-smiled, enticed. “If our borders are challenged, we need a king who is a warrior and one who inspires terror in any enemies. You evidently have faith that I would be better,” the prince’s thoughts rioted. He knew the old priest was about to uncover too much if he stayed.
Maatkare had always known his grandfather wanted to rule Kemet at least by proxy. It didn’t surprise him that the elder would even stoop to using him for that. The outcome, however, couldn’t favor the old man whose years were limited. He was convinced that Hordjedtef wanted the neter stones so he could become a host and stay young… eventually doing away with him. You tempt me to tell you something, old man. You force me to agree to be the champion just to get you to leave me alone. He sighed in a hidden attempt to create a distraction. Get out of here. Get away, his inner thoughts echoed. He spoke:
“I’m grateful for your confidence in me, but understand this: I will do it, but be careful of me. I never was one to be managed. Meryt found that out the hard way.” He realized his rage had gotten the better of him as he visualized the princess dangling from the leash about her throat.
“You threatening me, boy?” the spark of indignation traversed the ghostly image. “It seems you have no place to do that after I was the one, years ago, who saw to it you kept your head on your neck in the first place.”
“True,” Maatkare sulked, sensing the entire sequence of manipulations parade past him. “But be kind. I would at least like the Great Wife of my choosing. Despite the pleasure I might take in breaking Lady Khentie and making her suffer for me, I would need for her to appreciate me. That one’s no ally. She’d cause me to grow a set of eyes on my back.”
Heart of the Lotus Page 12