Priestess of the Nile
Page 7
Merys shot her a grateful glance. At least someone here supports us.
Isis shook her head. “What she asks is impossible. Humans don’t dwell where the Great Ones live, not even after death.”
“Will I at least remember him?” Thought of the pending separation took the strength from her whole body.
“It is a kindness on our part to take away the memory,” Isis informed her. “You would yearn ceaselessly for what is forbidden.”
Bek leaned forward, his words whispering in her ear, his breath soft against her cheek. “I’ll remember you, Merys, and love you for all time. But I have sworn not to come near you again, not to spoil your time in whichever reality you choose.”
“I would rather return to my old life, if I could keep you in it,” Merys said. Any choice that doesn’t include Bek is a sentence to eternal punishment. I’ll remember him no matter what the Great Ones say.
“The time for choice is now upon you,” Isis declared, her voice steely. She stopped pacing and strode briskly to the table holding the balance, toyed with the chain attached to the cups. “You know the two paths open to you. We’ll judge your heart and you will tell us which door you wish to walk through.”
Lady Ma’at came and took both of Merys’s hands in her own soft white ones. “Don’t be afraid, no harm will come to you.” She drew Merys closer to the table. Bek came a few steps behind.
Ma’at drew the great red ostrich feather from her jeweled headband and gestured at the table. “Behold the scales.”
A great tugging began in Merys’s chest, and a pain bloomed in her abdomen. Before her eyes two alabaster jars stood in the golden cup of the balance, one much taller than the other. The stoppers of both were miniature crocodile heads. Borne down by the weight, the scale’s golden cup clinked on the table.
“Why are there two jars?” Merys turned to Bek, then glanced at Lady Ma’at. “What does this mean?”
“There is yet one more truth to consider,” Lady Ma’at drew her red ostrich feather caressingly over the two jars. “There are two hearts here to be judged, my Queen, Lord Anubis. Two spirits at stake. This girl carried Sobek’s child.”
Merys gasped, her hands rising to cover her abdomen. I was sick so many mornings that last week—I should have known. Oh my baby, I’m so sorry you will never be born.
Bek drew Merys into his arms, crossing them in front of her protectively, one hand flattening over both of hers, resting on her stomach. “Surely this must change things?” he asked Isis. “It must alter the situation.”
“Indeed.” Isis bit her lip and glanced away from them.
She looks almost pleased about this. A good omen for us? Merys leaned against Bek’s reassuring warmth. She felt a small flicker of hope.
“It is rare for a Great One to sire a child at all, much less with a human.” Isis came forward and placed her hand under Merys’s chin. “Now you have no choice, girl.” She sliced her free hand through the air.
The two open doors crashed closed, one after the other, blasting the room with a thundering echo. Ammit yelped and scuttled farther into her corner. Merys flinched and Bek gripped her harder.
The queen released Merys’s chin. “Children are a precious gift, a new beginning. The child of a Great One must be born and nurtured in our realm. Therefore you will have to dwell there as well, with Sobek, for all time.”
“Forever? Truly?” Merys felt a wild urge to laugh. What Isis was uttering almost as a threat was Merys’s own deepest desire, eternal life and a family with her beloved. With Sobek by her side and their precious child already growing in her womb, life could not hold more joy!
Isis nodded. She drew the golden tyet knot from her belt and walked to the wall. Placing the intricate knot on the stone at shoulder height, where it appeared to stay of its own volition, the queen raised her arms and slowly crossed them over her chest. Golden sparkles of light flowed from her to the tyet. The knot grew and expanded on the rock wall, becoming the golden threshold and elaborate filigree hinges of a massive obsidian door. Twin door handles—in the streamlined shape of swallows, symbol of Isis—took form. Reaching out, the goddess tugged at the gleaming handles. The door slowly opened as Isis stepped away, revealing flowering fields and glowing white dwellings in the distance.
“My blessing upon you.” Isis touched Merys on the forehead and then rested her hand for a fleeting moment on top of Merys’s and Bek’s linked fingers, guarding their child. “And your child.” She walked away without another glance, disappearing in the mists.
“Most unusual.” Thoth sniffed, his quill pen racing to record the events. “There is no precedent to cite.”
Bek swept Merys up in his strong arms and whirled her in a giddy circle. He kissed her as if he would never stop, then set her on her feet, his hand going to rest again on her stomach. “Are you feeling all right?” he asked anxiously.
Merys laughed in sheer joy, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “How could I be any better? Eternity with you and our child is the best choice anyone could offer me. I want nothing more.”
He picked her up again and carried her across the Chamber of Judging, striding through the mists. Carefully he stepped over the threshold into a sunlit meadow. As the giant door ponderously closed behind them, Bek bent to kiss her. “Welcome to my home, beloved priestess.”
About the Author
Veronica Scott grew up in a house with a library full of books as its heart, and when she ran out of things to read, she started writing her own stories. Married young to her high school sweetheart, then widowed, Veronica has two grown daughters, one young grandson and cats.
Veronica’s life has taken many twists and turns, but she always makes time to keep reading and writing. Everything is good source material for the next novel or the one after that anyway, right? She’s been through earthquakes, tornadoes and near-death experiences, although nothing is as stressful as meeting a book deadline. Always more stories to tell, new adventures to experience—Veronica’s personal motto is, “Never boring.”
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ISBN: 978-1-4268-9309-4
Copyright © 2012 by Jean D. Walker
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