Accept that death humbles us,
accept that life exalts us,
the house of death is for life.
That meant so much more to Marai than building a great tomb. It meant that when you die, whether you became immortal or forgotten was based on how you lived your life.
Remember how to live, beloved...
Remember how to live...
Marai shut his eyes, deeply troubled. In that last phrase, he had heard Ariennu calling to him. He didn’t know why. The lesson continued, just as her thoughts faded from his own.
All life is sacred, and sacred equally. the elder taught. Man is a link in a chain between etheric beings and lowlier tenants of earth. Gods in the shape of men, perhaps to an extent all men, were responsible for preparing themselves for their eventual ascension. Once they accepted this as fact, they were duty bound to protect and care for beings who would never comprehend the mysteries of their origin. To lift them up, so to speak, as precious, since all came of the creator of the Universe.
Do you know what you have even said? Marai found himself suddenly unable to listen to another word the old man said. Somehow, the Great One was interweaving this philosophy with legends of the gods of Kemet and relegating it to things of the “First Time”, but it made even less sense now to have so many deities and demons positioned as helpers or as tricksters standing in the way of the return to the beginning.
The sojourner suddenly understood why he had been chosen as the messenger over the brilliant high priest. He had been a shepherd. It was in his nature like the blood in his body to care for all creatures and to be compassionate toward them. The nobles of Kemet had been losing compassion over the years. If they were born with it, the trait was never nurtured. They were powerful and prideful, just as their gods and goddesses had become. The Children of Stone must have sensed that. Everything the old priest had become, contradicted the truths, the Maat, he was teaching.
You are impudent to equal yourself to our trust. The old man’s chilled red stare returned. The life force is the sacred thing, not so much the shell it inhabits. It is why the learned must walk free of it to gain true understanding. Can you not see that?
Marai knew exactly what he meant. The Kemet nobility, under the guidance of generations of powerful priests, who were lesser sons of kings themselves, believed that as gods and demi-gods, they had been given divine dominion over all lands and men of Earth, instead of cooperation with all of the parts. Why else had they alone been gifted with this immense wisdom? Why else had the Ta-Ntr been drawn to this part of the Earth?
They were, the old man related, watchers and children of the givers of these teachings. They were the ascended ones above, in the celestial realm and beyond. Because Earth was a cosmic mirror, it was the same way below.
Marai knew they were also the giants who found mortal women fair.
They were the Igiggi his own elders mentioned in reverent tones.
They were Houra’s angels, the watchers, nephilim. It was their own failure to remain detached that had caused them first to fail and then to flee. Now they, knowing the task was not finished, returned to seek the descendents of those elder gods who had become as mortal men. They had reached out, first to Djedi, then to others to teach them how to find each other and bring themselves home to the stars.
On the sixteenth day of the tutoring, after his mid-afternoon rest and reflection period, the elder’s eyes shifted into bird eyes again. He grew increasingly tired of these endless discourses and knew he was teaching his pupil very little. He had even toyed with the idea that Marai might have been laughing at him and considering this entire “school” a grand sort of game.
In the night, and also on the following night, a dream and vision had come to him. In the dream, a spirit had spoken to him loudly enough to rouse him from his sleep. The spirit had a message about Marai for him.
Beware of letting go of truths and purposes. It had said. As highest guardian of Maat you and your sacred family have made this pact.
The elder had sensed that from the beginning. He had sat up in his bed, blinking solemnly in the dark. He assumed, because the voice had been male that it was Djehuti speaking to him. By morning, his feelings of disquiet had been markedly keener. This “opening” of the sojourner was only showing him how dangerous Marai might become if he was ever given access to the most sacred truths. Marai didn’t have the keys inside his heart, Marai himself was the “key”. If he went into the secret chambers or found other hiding places of “Ways and Numbers”, he would be able to access all of the information learned men had labored for so many years to find. Was that what the gods intended? Somehow, the elder prince didn’t think so.
Today Marai shrugged as he sat in a new lashed cane chair provided for him.
Hordjedtef had it brought from the rear of the house so the big man would no longer commit the sacrilege of sitting in the king’s white marble chair.
As the men sat, each facing the other, Marai contemplated a tablet inscribed with another segment of the laws of Maat. He was preparing to recite them and to give a detailed description of each, with all of the necessary examples, when he suddenly felt a chill. The stone under his brow had become prominent.
The old man had used the control word again, but this time it didn’t hurt him. A smile dotted Hordjedtef’s lips. His taloned, scrawny finger beckoned Marai to lean forward to him. Straining to reach him, the old man probed the sojourner’s head and examined the Child Stone imbedded there.
“Hmph...I’ve been watching this rise and fall when you are comtemplating things. You told me once this was fixed in your head by them when you were transformed, yes?” He asked, his voice having grown so heavily contemplative that it sounded as if he was speaking from some kind of protective trance.
“Yes, Highness” Marai tensed, uncertain of the elder’s next course of action. He knew it didn’t usually go well, when someone poked about the Children or any of the stones. The old man was respectful, gently touching and sensing the texture and temperature of the place on Marai’s forehead.
“You’ve held back a truth from me...” he clucked. “I see you have walked the sacred walk with them...more than walked it, you have become it.” Regarding Marai’s puzzled expression, he continued.
“We discussed spirit walk, but I had wondered about the sacred walk within the walk -the interior pattern ..as I suspected? Yet you say you do not remember what was taught to you at that time? The great Djehut has allowed these Ntr to place in you, a thing we call a kernel of wisdom to teach your heart and nourish your soul.” He continued to caress Marai’s brow almost sensually, then as if embarrassed by the rush of warmth rolling up his arm, he withdrew his fingers, shaking them to dispel the energy they had gathered.
“How very like a tiny world egg it seems...” Hordjedtef remarked under his breath. Looking up at Marai again, he continued. “It... speaks to you with a voice?” He inquired.
“It did, In the first days, and still does sometimes,” Marai reflected... “Other times it speaks with my own voice, or those of people I know.” Marai leaned away in his chair, rubbing his brow. He tried to get rid of the feeling of the icy touch, as if it had been a bad taste.
Hordjedtef’s eyelids fluttered down in silent, shielded reflection for several moments. Seemingly, on impulse, he struck his table gong twice. The sound was still traveling around the back of the sunny plaza room, amplifying as it did, when the servant who answered was told to get the sesh on duty to come. He was to bring more of his instruments.
In a few moments, the smallish dark man came in, bearing a sheaf of writing linen, a box of reeds, and paint pots. Briefly bending to listen to Hordjedtef’s whispered instructions, he placed the equipment to one side of the pool, indicating to Marai that he should sit on the mat in front of it. Then the servant handed him a lapboard and hastily backed out of the plaza.
The day was growing warmer. Another attendant brought the nefet stand forward and began to fan the men bec
ause they had moved out of the shade of the awning.
“I have observed you taking in our writings over these last several days. I think it is time for you to demonstrate to me what you have learned...to summarize.” The old man ordered, fully imperious.
Marai frowned. Reading the wall or some of the simple tile tablets was one thing, but he had never tried to write the sounds. He doubted he would be able to demonstrate it for him without some kind of instruction. He knew the old prince was trying to trip him up again.
After two full weeks, the sojourner fully understood Hordjedtef had become impatient. His student, whom he thought would have been easily humiliated into blind submission turned out to be mastering any task he was given. The elder wasn’t used to dealing with anyone who could match his intellect, skill, and knowledge the moment he was shown something new. He had tried in vain to present unsolvable problems in engineering, known only to the highest of the architecture gods, Imhotep. At one point, Hordjedtef had even placed some complex measurements for the building of a new temple in front of him. It was to have several secret rooms and passageways hewn from a large rock which had formed just beneath level of the soil. Inside, the divine bulls would be buried as they left this earthly realm.
Marai mentioned using rasps with hard crystalline teeth, hewing out passageways beneath and planing the rock into the number of chambers needed. These methods were known, but the “reading” of the rock by touch to determine how to plane it, then using heat and cold water to shatter it along a smooth plane, was something new. He had sent for the chief of the architects to observe Marai doing his calculations. The architect had frowned, suddenly recalling that the method was actually “very old” and “of the gods”.
Word that a new student had mentioned this magical method begun to circulate.
Marai knew his teacher wouldn’t be able to keep him out of public view and scrutiny much longer. Soon, the king would want to meet him. Marai hoped he would meet the king and get his appointment to the schools of mystery. He sensed his teacher was putting himself under a lot of pressure in order to make certain his pupil was ready for the most basic of initiations before then. This test of writing the old man was giving him was probably just another of many unannounced tests.
Marai’s hands were larger than either the scribes or the old man’s hands and at one time, they had been callused by years of manual labor. Even though the Children of Stone had smoothed out all of the rough skin when they rebuilt him, the sojourner was convinced he would not be able to manage the intricacies of handling a slim little reed dragged across an indigo cake.
“I want you to summarize, in your own personal manner, one of the truths you have enjoyed exploring before me.” The elder prince repeated, quietly blinking to cover his own sly expression. “It can be one of our divine stories or...anything else that comes to you.” Hordjedtef leveled a stern glance at the sojourner, then retracted it with: “Of course, if some of the things placed in your heart should come forth, be assured that only the most illuminated of us, or our beloved majesty, will be allowed to see it.” His dull black eyes flickered red again. A smile dotted his thin lips.
Marai got up, padded toward the pool and eased himself into a cross-legged position, placing the writing board across his knees. Plucking a soaked reed from the ceramic jar placed beside him, he dragged it lightly across the surface of a cake of black paint placed in the upper corner of the board. His hands trembled unsteadily. The last thing the old man had said revealed everything irritating thing Marai had already known. The man was getting tired of him and about to get careless.
Yeah, damn your ugly bird-face...what do you care if I can write or not, as long as some morsel of a “secret” you haven’t been able to pry out of me in the two weeks of these dialogues should leap onto the page!
“So this is the last step before my first level of initiation, then?” Marai glanced back over his shoulders to see the old man starting to ease himself from his throne-like chair. Before he could leap up to assist his teacher, the sesh on duty who had been placing the writing tools presented the elder with two dark wood walking canes to steady his steps. For a moment, Marai envisioned them becoming serpents.
“Initiation?” Prince Hordjedtef repeated dryly, pausing as he tottered toward the big man. “I think there’s hardly a need for that.” His expression moved swiftly to it’s usual slightly condescending tone.
“You deny it of course...What choice do you or they, have but to deny it? I believe you are already an initiate. There are things we have discussed that are only known to those already past their highest level. Did you not forget your first request of me? That you be “unlocked” so to speak?”
Marai shook his head a little, amazed.
So Great One believes I was initiated into the “Secret Ways” by the “Ta Ntr” even if I don’t remember? he sighed. Well Deka didn’t remember her mistreatment of long ago... maybe it’s true then, no memory of the journey. He knew the elder didn’t care about any initiation. This test was just going to we a way of getting him to demonstrate writing and in doing so spill out more of his knowledge.
The high priest expected him to be in a trance, but Marai would not willingly submit to it unless there was another task, such as a writing demonstration, involved.
Although the inspector hadn’t visited much during the sessions of teaching, he arrived this morning. The elder referred to him as “my second” or “One Next”. Hordjedtef had bragged from time to time about the younger priest’s ability to almost instantly throw himself into a trance deep enough to allow spirits and gods to speak through him. Now he wanted Marai to prove he could do the same thing. This inspector would simply watch him to see if anything unusual happened.
One of the guards approached from the entry gate. With a deep bow, he announced the arrival of the younger inspector.
“Your Great Highness, your One Next is here.”
Marai stared straight ahead, his eyes meeting the priest’s as the man circled the lotus pool, bowed respectfully and allowed on rising, a servant to take his deep indigo travel robe and his was-shaped walking staff. Marai noticed the familiar rainbow glint from the bottom of the wdjat amulet extending properly from beneath the inspector’s simple beaded collar.
The younger priest politely nodded and assisted the elder in walking to a separate cane chair.
Still another servant arrived with a portable shade for the men.
Marai knew he would have to place himself “at rest”, but doing this in the presence of two men he really didn’t trust worried him. The Child Stone in his forehead could then manipulate the reed in his hands as well as any “truth” that flowed from the writing. Of course, Hordjedtef was planning to grab up each sheaf of writing linen he didn’t deserve to see. He and his protege would then scurry off to gloat over whatever he had written once they rolled it out again in the old man’s private chart room.
Slowly, Marai wrote the characters for the sounds of his own name.
His hesitation was noticed.
“I have traded knowledge with you to which few mortals are privy.” Hordjedtef reminded the sojourner. “Are you telling me your gifts are still bound inside you?”
Marai fought the urge to ask his Child Stone to help him scribble obscenities across the page, hurl it in the old man’s face and storm from the plaza, even though he knew it hadn’t worked first day of the “teaching” when he tried to leave that time.
The old man craned forward, balanced on his canes, to see what his big student was writing. He perched, looking more like the vulture goddess on the royal mothers headresses instead of an ibis. He was waiting on a meal of information, as it thrashed out its resistance.. Shuddering against the thought of the old man’s basic nature, Marai took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and contemplated a silent, self-made invocation.
We will do what we will do. It will be beauty beyond compare... Sweet Child in me, help me. Show them.
The reed began to fly across th
e page, spilling out characters shaped quite unlike the pictographs he’d learned from the tablets and the walls. At first, the writing scrolled right to left in the curvilinear style the accountants used.
An astonished murmur rose from the elder’s chair.
Although Marai’s eyes were lightly shut, and his thoughts were in a different world, he sensed the priest creeping closer toward him.
“What in the name of the devourer...” The old man hissed at first. “This writing... How did you learn...”
Then...
“By Wisdom...It is the Ntr s spirits. They’re doing it through him...”
Marai sensed the man could no longer contain his enthusiasm. He heard the whisper of the younger priest and other voices presently, all quiet but urgent. At some point he felt the first page being lifted by others in attendance and another being placed beneath the floating reed. New paint pots were magically placed so he could dip the reed and the brush without fully rousing himself.
Even less aware of his surroundings, Marai continued. Everything in his world had begun to feel like a dream. He felt the sensation of floating in the warm water of the pond at his childhood home and the warm pool in the bath house here. He wanted to swim all the way to his apartment, magically extending the warm water as he did so he could scoop up the women and have them bathe with him. He knew it wasn’t possible.
Through most of the writing Marai’s eyes remained lightly closed. The Child Stone was, influencing the power of his hand and moving it ever so gently, as if it’s spirit guided a child. The combined voices whispered the words they were writing as he wrote them. They guided him into writing beautiful things about the truths he was learning. Everything was as Prince Hordjedtef taught: Life and the worlds above and below, the magic and powers of all of the spirits of the universe, the creator...Woman... Love... Ultimate sensuality as food of the universe through the sacred womb.
When the children spoke these truths through Marai’s heart, their words weren’t dried and factual. Their words and thoughts carried a passion that only Marai had come to understand while lying in his Naibe’s arms.
Voices in Crystal Page 48