“Even when we were children, he broke my toys. He frightened me with his loud voice.”
Set pointed at a green man with a goose on his head. With a start, Owen recognized him as Geb. “My father, you always praised Osiris. Even when I bested him, you only encouraged him to do better. You never noticed my accomplishments.”
Nephthys shook her head, tears tracing their path down her dusky, soft skin. “When we married, we were happy for a time, but then he grew angry and raged at me. I left and found happiness in the arms of Osiris.”
“How could I deny them?” Isis asked.
Set’s face darkened under his hat. “Always my brother took everything from me, so I tricked him. I gave him a beautiful sarcophagus and while he still lived, nailed him inside, then set him afloat on the Nile.”
“Years we searched, Anubis and me,” Isis said. “And finally we found him, my love, my husband. We pieced him together, all but . . .”
A spike of panic shot through Owen. He tried to move his hands lower to check, but couldn’t reach.
“Now at least I can bury him properly.” Isis lowered her head onto Sekhmet’ s shoulder.
The great lioness patted her back and glowered at Set. “Justice must be done.”
* * *
Iris pushed back the curtain and found a place to crouch beside Owen’s stretcher. There was no bank of monitors like there would be in the States, no beeping of machines, no comforting line marking his heartbeat. George had insisted on a drip of basic fluids. After taking blood, the doctor left and George increased the drip rate. “This will help flush him out,” he said. George snagged two chairs from somewhere and they crowded in together, waiting for the toxicology report.
After a while, George leaned over and patted her hand. “At least he’s stable.”
“He’s stopped mumbling and moving around.”
“That’s a good sign.”
After another ten minutes, George pushed his chair back. “I’m going to find the lab. This is ridiculous.”
Iris shook her head. It was usually a pleasure to slow down to what Owen called Egypt time, but not in this particular instance.
Mohammed stuck his head around the curtain. Iris walked out into the hallway. “Did you find it?”
He studied his shoe. Iris’s stomach sank. “We found his suitcase,” he said, “but there was no box.”
“He stuck it in the middle. Wrapped it up in his shirts.”
“We searched very thoroughly, Mrs. Wizer. We even dumped everything out. We found nothing.”
“But . . .” she sputtered, “it was there. I saw it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What about Simon? Did you find him?”
“He has taken his group to Abusir.”
“So go out there and arrest him?”
“Without evidence . . .” Mohammed turned his palms up.
Iris fought back tears. She walked away a few steps, then turned back and went in to Owen.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Wizer,” Mohammed said through the curtain.
“Thank you.” Iris fought her anger. That bastard Simon must have come back and taken the sarcophagus out of their luggage. She studied Owen. He looked paler.
George pushed back the curtain. The other doctor stood next to him. A flurry of nurses rushed in with new equipment, shooing Iris out to the hall.
“It’s arsenic,” George said as she passed him. “I don’t know why I didn’t smell the almonds.”
“Almonds?” Iris frowned, wondering if George was okay.
“Arsenic smells like bitter almonds. But he didn’t get a lethal dose.”
“Thank God.”
“We should be able to clear it out of his system. He’ll need to stay the night.”
Iris looked at the scurry of white coated attendants.
“Go sit outside. As soon as we get him all hooked up, you can follow us up to his room.”
Iris went to look for Mohammed. Now they had evidence. Maybe justice could be done.
* * *
A great column of light appeared in the midst of the Neters, each shielding their eyes, murmuring their questions. “What is this? Who has come among us?”
The light swirled and a face began to form, then a figure solidified. He wore the double crown. As one, the Neters fell to their knees.
“Father. Atum,” said Nut.
He gestured for them to rise. “It is my fault,” he said.
“But Father, you did not kill Osiris.”
“No, but I touched Set in the womb of his mother and made him imperfect.”
A collective gasp rose around the room. Sekhmet growled.
Atum glanced at her and she subsided. “After all the eons, I had grown tired of the brightness, of the perfection. There was nothing to strive for, nothing to overcome. So I spoke to Nut and she agreed to allow this new energy into the world.”
They all looked at the mother of the four Neters. She stood with lowered head, her black hair streaming down the two sides of her downturned face, mingling with her deep blue gown of silver stars.
Isis stepped forward. “Is this true, Mother?”
Nut raised her head, her achingly beautiful face wet with tears. “Yes, it is true. I knew, but Atum asked that I keep this secret in my heart.”
Atum took a step forward and stood next to her, but he looked at Set. “Your sacrifice will allow humanity to strive for the stars, to seek for reunion with the light. What you have lost,” here he looked at Isis, “you love even more. Humans will strive hard and achieve marvels.”
Anubis began to nod. Then Thoth. “Yes,” the ibis-faced Neter said, “I can see the wisdom of this. It will take a long time for this new energy to work its magic, but balance will be gained in the end.”
“Even this is part of my plan,” Atum said.
A woman with a white feather on her head stepped forward and kneeled before Atum. She stretched her arms out straight from her shoulders. In each hand she held a golden scale. “Let the judgment begin,” Ma’at intoned.
Anubis moved to her side, another white feather in his hand. He laid it on one of the scales.
Nephthys walked up to Set and pulled back his khaki shirt. She seemed to reach into his chest. Set threw his head back and howled. Nephthys took a red, squirming blob and laid it on the other side of the scale. Owen recoiled. The scale holding Set’s heart dipped low.
All the Neters shook their heads and mumbled amongst themselves.
One of the group sitting against the wall who’d been asking Owen questions said, “You may not go into the realm of the Gods. You must stay on earth until balance is achieved.”
“Come with me, son,” Geb said. “The earth is not so bad, after all.” The two walked out of the temple.
Anubis flourished another white feather in his hand and laid it on one of Ma’at’s scales.
Isis turned to Owen.
He tried to push away, but couldn’t escape her. He shook his head back and forth. “Noooo,” he screamed.
She reached into his chest. Owen waited for pain, but none came. Isis pulled out a ball of beating gold light and laid it on the now clean scale.
They balanced.
Ma’at smiled.
One of the questioners pronounced, “You have achieved perfect harmony. You may pass into the Halls of Amenti.”
Owen blinked. He’d just been offered immortality, access to the place of all knowledge. Everything he had ever dreamed of. Isis and Nephthys began to unwrap him. When his hands were free, Isis handed him a crook. Nephthys gave him a flail. Owen could rise up and go. Spend eternity in meditation and contemplation, listening to a chorus of perfect song, talking at leisure with the great ones who had come before him.
But where was Iris?
* * *
Iris startled awake. Her neck ached. She’d slept in the chair by Owen’s bed at an awkward angle. Massaging her spasmed muscles, she glanced around the room, but saw nothing new. What had awakened her?
Outside the birds stirred in the palm trees. A lone voice rose in the predawn, the muezzin calling the people awake and to prayer. This one was a good singer.
Iris walked to the window and prayed with him. “God, please let him live. Please bring my Owen back to me.”
The muezzin’s voice fell into silence, but the birds took up the song. The sky had paled another shade.
Something stirred behind her. She turned. An arm reached up from the bed clothes. “Iris?”
“Oh, thank God.” She rushed to him.
He blinked and tried to sit up.
“Not so fast.” Iris found the right button on the bed and raised him up a bit. She smoothed his hair away from his face. “How do you feel?”
He smacked his lips and frowned. “My mouth tastes terrible.”
She handed him a bottle of water, opened it for him and held it while he drank.
“What happened?”
She told him the story. He listened, shaking his head. “Arsenic, huh?”
“Thank heavens Simon got the dose wrong,” Iris said.
“Where is he now?”
“Probably at the Mena House.”
“Do you think he took that box out of my bag?”
“Who else?”
“You don’t think Nela was in on it, do you?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I wish we could have Simon arrested, but Mohammed says we need more evidence.”
Owen shook his head. “No, let him wander earth for another millennium. Even Simon has his place.”
A loud fluttering of wings came from the window. They both looked over and saw a large falcon sitting in the tree where the song birds had been.
“Horus,” Owen said. “Horus has been born.”
The Judgment of Osiris -- Short Story Page 3