Voices in Crystal

Home > Other > Voices in Crystal > Page 45
Voices in Crystal Page 45

by Mary R Woldering


  “You think I’m stupid enough to be blind to your puzzling...” Marai continued to snarl, lips curling in a sneer as he bent closer to the old prince who countered by shrinking even further back.

  “Maybe that’d help if I couldn’t see it. Just ...I never understood why I have to come before some decorated old dung ball of a man who drags himself out as a god, unless it’s to learn even more than I already know about common jealousy, greed and revenge! I knew that kind of thing in the wilderness and I can just as easily go back there for anything more I need to learn..I’m done here!” Marai stalked toward the door, infuriated that he had allowed the Children of Stone to guide him this far into such a well of ill will.

  He was angry enough to flatten anyone trying to stop him, royal or not. A pair of sizzling coal eyes slowed his tread to a crawl. He turned, leveling a glare at the old man who was sitting upright in his chair, like a reed at the side of a river. All of the age and debility had fallen from him. His naked left arm glistened. The sojourner felt the same irritating prickle of heat along his back and legs, as if lightning had extended itself along that otherwise fragile-looking dark arm. It was a warning.

  No! Don’t go! The old man’s stalwart, yet petulant inner voice rang. He sounded like a spoiled child calling to a playmate who had suddenly had enough of him. Hordjedtef was so angry that his thoughts broke through into voiced words.

  “Stupid Akkad fool! No one can treat me like this and live...so...” He paused, realizing he had spoken aloud and was fuming with even greater vigor.

  Playing the game of silent wit and barb as well to break me? Do you truly wish to know how well I can send death with a glance? His face calmed and eyes glimmered in evil bile-humor.

  “So?” Marai returned to lean on the table again, a little more calm, but still knocking one of the empty gold cups to the floor. “It just means you don’t have the same respect or compassion for mankind that made your teacher one of the greatest souls of all time. You think I have no wits at all? I knew that much about you before I even got here. I just wasn’t sure which one was Djedi and which the disciple.” One of Marai’s brows raised in a snarling laugh.

  “By your acts, you’ve removed all doubt over which one was which.”

  The elder’s arm wilted back to his side. He sighed as if his invisible feelings had surfaced long enough to be hurt.

  “I can destroy things too. I just haven’t learned to like it as much.” Marai locked his eyes onto the shiny bird-black eyes before him, sending the image of N’ahab-Atall’s death and the burning hands of the youth who tried to take the stones. The old man of Djehuti seemed unmoved. After a moment, his eyes blinked once like the inner eyelid of a snake’s eye.

  “I never said I wouldn’t teach you. In fact, I recall I said I would. Just that there is no point in being your dearest friend.” The sarcasm in his voice betrayed a defeated weariness, even though unreasoning annoyance still seethed in the elder’s eyes. “Will you sit down and draw yourself some calming breaths, my most strange one?” he asked.

  Marai, now more himself than a bull, cautiously took his place, looking where he was about to sit. He half expected to see a scorpion or burning salamander resting in the king’s chair.

  “My scrutiny of you is done.” The priest breathed, as confidently as if he and Marai had just finished a cheerful walk in the fresh morning air. “As you have surmised, I am neither a simple nor an easy tutor.” He looked about the plaza, suddenly seeming almost restive and bored. He was tired of this entertainment and eager to take in some midday sustenance.

  “What you may not know, is that it energizes me to learn your strengths and weaknesses.” He cracked a faint, vain smile. “You are magnificent!” he clucked “Choosing to show me your spirit in the form of the Bakha...takes a bit of daring...” The elder searched his adversary’s face for effect. “I haven’t felt so refreshed in days! I needed to know you, before I began to instruct you in ‘The Way of Life’.” Hordjedtef shifted, seeming uncomfortable again.

  Marai quieted the simmering ire in his own veins and tried to seem attentive, although he really had begun to regret being in this man’s presence.

  Bakha? Marai thought for a moment. He hadn’t paid very much attention to the myriads of gods and goddesses in the land of Kemet. In fact, since he had awakened, he hadn’t thought of any gods but sweet Naibe. He saw Bakha the War-Bull come forth in me? Hmmmm..Odd...Interesting....

  “In my heart,” The priest continued “I know you are still essentially the same innocent mortal, my teacher and I observed long ago.” He touched the gong on his high stand to signal the servants. The two men’s display of shape changing had left the cups and dishes scattered and broken, their contents spilled. The servants needed to clean everything up before food was placed.

  “Nevertheless, each day you exist in this gifted, yet untutored state, you become vastly different in other less noticeable ways from the man my teacher and I observed and recorded. I have been given, by the Great Djehuti, the power to see whether it is the truth you seek or merely power in its guise that dares rear its head in my presence. If it is power...” Prince Hordjedtef’s voice slowed, losing itself in thought.

  Power? Marai thought. No, you do not know me...

  “You are so full of passion that none could resist you...” His lips pursed again and his face grew changeable. “It’s your lack of discipline that will undo you...My own heir...” He began to speak but stopped himself.

  Marai thought he heard the sound of a snuffling hound at his side for a moment. He turned. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the vague image of a small, hunting dog entirely black with a grey, longer wolf tail and green-eyes. When he focused on it, he understood he had seen a spirit animal or a familiar. No wolf or dog was beside him. Servants had arrived with brooms and towels. One, noticing the crack in the table, stared at Marai astonished.

  Marai felt the thoughts of the children looming through him into silent speech, but knew this time the words they were saying were meant for the elder to read from him.

  The emptiness...

  You are the void left

  When wisdom departs.

  Save yourself,

  Be open

  Be not bound by self...

  skin housing soul...

  That it lives only by

  Feeding on hearts richer than

  Itself.

  Giving no indication he had sensed the children’s voices, the elder prince motioned for Marai to kneel between the low table, which he had cracked, and himself to receive a blessing.

  The sojourner paused, not yet trusting the old man. He had said something about an heir but stopped.

  Is there another? Not the priest who was his second? Marai wondered, sensing a sting on his leg as if something had poked him with a small sharp object. For a moment the thought of a tiny warrior in the grass taking aim with it’s miniature bow and arrow came to mind.

  “Come to me...You must show me you do not fear me... and that I do not fear you before we continue any of this.” the old man scooted to the edge of his throne-like chair.

  Marai shrugged, and against his own better judgment, went to his knees before the high priest.

  The elder placed his hands behind Marai’s head, fingers down yet thumbs resting soothingly at the curve of his head. He gave a thought-cleansing blessing.

  Marai felt the coolness of the elder’s creped hands sighing through him, easing him. It was a pleasant feeling.

  “When you see into your own heart, you will begin to understand many things. May the Great Djehuti open your eyes that you will know what is right...seeking Maat above all else.” the man invoked. Then his frail hand signaled the servants who had finished cleaning. He withdrew his other hand and bid Marai sit on his heels where he was. Clearing his throat, he drew inside himself.

  Marai touched his lips in silent thought.

  I think your Djehuti has, old man...I think he has. He felt Naibe-Ellit’s touch and Ariennu�
��s wickedly laughing whisper filling his head against the silent backdrop of Deka’s eyes.

  Be careful... Ariennu hushed again through his brow. He sighed, his heart stirring with sadness. He ached for the women to comfort him. He wanted them to gather their things and leave this blighted land with him. For several moments, the men rested separately in the sun. Eventually, the servants returned with two servings of a noon meal.

  Prince Hordjedtef gestured for his new pupil to get up and move around freely if he wanted to do so. The old man closed his thin lidded ancient eyes and appeared to be meditating.

  Marai stood and removed his torn coat. Shaking his head, as he surveyed the rip, he wondered if Ari would be able to repair it so that it would look like new. She knew marvelous ways of re-weaving torn fabric. If the coat still looked bad in that spot, perhaps Naibe could embroider some kind of design on it to cover the place. He could already hear Ari cursing him about not thinking to take it off before demonstrating his powers for the old fellow. She would chide him about how much time and effort had gone into her work to have him rip the cloth so carelessly.

  Ari...love you woman... he whispered. I’ ll make it up to you when I get home.

  Folding the tunic coat neatly, Marai put it over the back of the king’s chair, stretched his arms tall for a moment and yawned, still tired from his lack of sleep the night before. As he silently walked into the small three-sided room behind the old man’s chair, he studied the painted panels on the walls. Reaching out to touch a particularly vivid panel, he jumped back a little in instant wonder, then shot a sidelong glance at the preoccupied priest, to see if he was being watched. Sounds, like gentle susurrations, filtered from the images through his fingertips and into his thoughts. Each symbol he traced called the sound of its own name to him.

  Well I’ ll be... He joked internally with the Child Stone in his brow as it spun the sounds through him, teaching him what each symbol meant. If you’d done this for me when I handled the golden scrolls on your star boat, I wouldn’t have had to make this trip...

  His Child Stone didn’t have to remind him of the reason he’d been brought this far. He inwardly remembered he was supposed to bring the Children of Stone to the apprentice of Djedi in exchange for the honing of his skills and the increase of his enlightenment. Right now, however, he didn’t want to give a single one of the Children of Stone to the old man.

  Even with everything that had happened to him, Marai painfully understood there wouldn’t have been any future for him in the middle of the wilderness with all of the knowledge he had gained. That he was learning the meaning of these marks almost made up for the annoyance in front of the priest a few moments earlier. Marai knew the shape-shifting incident had startled the elder priest out of his bored complacency. Now the old man needed to rest—-to sort through his thoughts and wonder what he might do next to gain a superior hand in the new matter. A noble, Marai knew from his year of living in their shadow, couldn’t appear flustered or disarmed in any way by a mere peasant, no matter how impressive his skill had been.

  The sojourner continued learning the characters on the wall behind the black marble chair. He had learned counting marks from his father and the few symbols for weights and measures Etum Addi knew, but nothing as complicated as a full text. Kemet writing was a collection of drawn pictures representing words or parts of words. Once the sound-patterns of the characters went through his fingertips a few times, the sojourner no longer needed to even touch the wall. He grinned with the wonder of a child, as if he had discovered a new game. His silver-waved head bobbed up and down the rows of panels as he read about the God Djehuti, and learned of the nature of wisdom.

  As he read and studied, Marai decided that the very elaborateness of the character formation kept almost all but the priesthood and royalty from learning how to read the sacred works. The people of this land were dependent on the priests and kings for the plotting of their daily lives and the planting of crops or husbanding of cattle. If an easier, more abbreviated form of writing were developed...he thought, then he shook his head.

  For instance, the great works of knowledge could be written in the simple accountants script he had seen Etum Addi using. If that happened, fewer wise men or priests would be needed to interpret the ways and desires of the gods or the duties of the commoner. Without them, he re-thought, would life in the world be easier? Probably not... Even if everyone on Earth found it easy to read the golden scrolls of knowledge, the emerald or lapis tablets or any of the great books of wisdom, would they want to? Given the ability and the access, what would people choose to learn? The sojourner knew, inwardly, that a good joke or a dirty story or bit of shocking gossip was much more inspiring than a long and lofty lecture. The secrets of the universe, exposed, would molder in a hidden cave, forgotten. Laughter or entertainment, something a little magical or even scary would always be sought out, instead.

  The desire for this, above all other knowledge would reign universal.

  At the end of a row, he stretched again absent-mindedly, bvut felt the slight sting of the priests’ eyes locked onto his back. They traveled admiringly along the curve of his thigh, loin, chest, and arms.

  The War Bull Bakha...Montu...Hordjedtef thought almost aloud.

  Marai knew the old man was thought sending for his benefit.

  So fitting a shape! Your lovers see you thus, when you come to them, don’t they?

  Marai shot a sidelong narrow glance at the elder.

  You’d like to see that, eh? But you won’t dare come to me like that in your waking world. Marai realized what his thoughts had revealed about his soon-to-be teacher. He could hardly contain his amusement.

  I’m a grown man, not an adoring, soft-faced boy...Has your need for being worshipped brought you to this? Does this need now make you ashamed? Do your wives whisper how it concerns them? Is there this story they tell in whispers about your needs? Marai grinned, about to burst with delight at his discovery.

  Hordjedtef tensed, almost a little panicked. Of course he knew he had fed the big man a whimsical thought, but when he realized the impression it left his new student he instantly regretted it.

  Marai knew it would do no good to torment or tease the priest the way Ariennu liked to tease men. He had almost gone back to reading the walls when the youthful attendant who had ended up in the lotus pool last night began bringing in the food. Fortunately, the child merely frowned at the former shepherd’s height. Even though the boy didn’t recognize him, Marai couldn’t resist sending one more barb of torment to the Great One.

  This really is a secret way for you, isn’t it, Your Highness? The sojourner’s face took on a look of innocent astonishment. And you were just warning me about getting beside you to gain power. Does this boy seek truth and wisdom? Does he, instead, long for you to touch him like a bride? Do you merely look on he and his brothers to dream old mens dreams, imagining them as comely virgins?

  The little flash of red formed in the high priests eyes, just to let Marai know that although he had started it, further ruminations on the matter of his sexuality weren’t appreciated.

  The food was delicately prepared and plentiful, but the sojourner could not recall a more unpleasant meal. Marai knew the old man had been prepared to teach him, but he still couldn’t trust him. Something was off. The old man was still quite aloof, resentful and distant. Marai decided to play along, to appease him in some way by appearing to be much more innocent and unknowing. Hopefully that tactic would gain him more of his new teacher’s sympathy, if not trust.

  Immediately after the two men ate and the servants cleared the low table, the priest began to send thoughts to his new “initiate” in the form of a silent dialog. He warned Marai again, that to undertake the learning, especially in this amount of haste could be perilous or even fatal. Partial knowledge of the truths was always a dangerous thing.

  Marai nodded, continuing to listen from his unwelcome seat in the king’s chair. He trusted that the Children of Stone
would make him equal to any challenge the old man presented.

  Hordjedtef quite skillfully, proposed questions to him on his concept of the gods and goddesses and on the nature of the heavens. After each question, the elder would become silent and reflective of the answers while formulating his next line of questioning. Without words, he stated:

  I will test your other skills outside the talent for illusion you’ve demonstrated. He remarked silently. I would test your prior training, too, if you’ve hidden it from me.

  “I said before, Your Highness...” Marai responded verbally, just to let the elder priest know he had heard all of the thoughts sent to him and hadn’t misinterpreted anything. “I am completely unschooled, except in the good sense bred from my father’s loins and made to grow in my mother’s womb. If the gods gave me something before I was transformed...” He started, but the man snapped back.

  “Which isn’t entirely truthful. As a merchant, you cypher a and measure...you mark record. As a shepherd, you must have learned the positions of the stars and the progress of the seasons and how to determine a strong stock of ram and ewe....where they must not graze...and how water may be discovered in a dry region. You shoot a bow. You can defend yourself and your own with a number of weapons. Did you have no god or goddess moving you when you were in the wild? I think you had worshipped, I believe, one like the Shinar Inanna, is it? Answer that, my good man.” the elder’s lids drooped a little.

  “Every youth bred in the wilderness learns these things in order to survive. It isn’t a special lesson.” Marai returned, noticing movement to one side of the interior plaza entrance. For a moment he thought of the black dog image he had sensed earlier. A servant led two red and white hounds tethered on braided leather leashes. They were muscular creatures for their moderate size; good hunting hounds. He struggled to control them away from the elder priest and his guest.

 

‹ Prev