by Peter David
Which did not happen.
Instead the Shews were pressed into service and under the lashes of the slave drivers, they proceeded to build a vast pyramid to celebrate the Rama’s greatness. And they built a variety of other statues and monuments to celebrate the gods and the Rama’s family and whatever else occurred to him.
The Rama watched the progress over the next years and was quite pleased at what he saw. He was also relieved that the imaginary schemes against him had been brought under control, despite the fact that he had never been presented with any actual proof. Which made sense since there was none.
Time passed, as it always did. A son and heir was born to the Rama, and he was most pleased about that. And Usana’s beauty remained untouched by the passage of time. No surprise, of course, for she had a bevy of handmaidens who constantly attended to her and made certain that her beauty remained undiminished.
Then one day the Rama set forth on what was intended to be a lengthy overview of the lands under Rogyptian control. Once the journey was under way, he noticed that one young servant kept looking away from him, refusing to make eye contact. Some rulers would have been quite content with that, for they feel that commoners should never look directly at their ruler. But the Rama was concerned over why one who was as young as this lad was endeavoring not to gaze directly at him. So he took the lad aside and questioned it.
His answer to the Rama made no sense to him: “I am reluctant to look at you because you are being shamed and do not know it. And I am afraid because now you will ask me why I would say this, and you will not believe me and slay me for my honesty.”
“What are you talking about?” demanded the Rama. “Tell me why you would say such a thing.”
“Because the queen is secretly the lover of the Moomy. They have been lovers for some time, and now that you are out and about, their congress with each other will be without anything to contain them.”
And the Rama roared with fury, and pulled out his sword and struck down the young man right there and then for daring to say such things. No one asked the Rama why he had cut down the lad because one simply did not pose such questions to a ruler. Yet even as the lad’s body was carted away, the Rama stayed right where he was, blood still dripping from his sword, and pondering what the young man had said.
He called for camp to be made in that spot and even though they had only departed hours earlier, his word was immediately carried out. Once darkness had descended upon them, the Rama draped a cloak over himself to disguise his features and returned whence he’d came.
He quietly made his way into the palace, and once inside up to Usana’s royal bedroom. They always slept separately save for the times that they chose to have intercourse. The Rama opened the door ever so softly, convinced that she would be alone.
She was not. She was naked in her bed, asleep, her body covered with a thin veil of sweat. Next to her was the sleeping form of the Moomy, also naked.
Had the Rama reacted properly, he would have backed out, summoned guards, had them arrested and then brought before the chancellors. But he was in anything but his right mind. Instead he let out an infuriated roar and charged them, pulling out his sword as he did so.
His determination was quite simple: He was going to cut down the Moomy and then deal with his queen separately. He had not yet decided, in the horror of discovery, exactly what he would do with her, although doubtless it would not be anything positive.
But as he came at her, she woke up and saw him coming, and more, saw the target of his sword. With a horrified cry, she leaped upon the Moomy and threw her hands up, attempting to ward off her husband’s wrath.
The Rama saw her intercede, but it all happened too quickly for him to stop the sword’s descent. It cleaved down into her, slicing her heart in twain, which might actually have been symbolic of the moment. She had time to unleash one horrific dying cry and then pitched forward onto the bed.
The Moomy let out an awful shriek and grabbed her dead body to himself. Guards came pouring in at that point, uncertain of what in the world was happening. They saw the body of their queen and the agonized Moomy on the bed. They moved to attack the man with the sword until he turned to face them and they realized that it was the Rama, and then they dropped to one knee and awaited his commands.
Having just slain his beloved wife, the Rama was mentally paralyzed. He stood there for a time and then ordered the Moomy to be arrested. The guards moved forward and grabbed the grieving Moomy off the bed, dragging him away. He said nothing. His face had gone ashen and it was as if all emotion had fled his body. The Rama gazed upon the body of his faithless wife.
And he rewrote history.
On some level, he must have known of his wife’s faithlessness. But he convinced himself that it had not been her at all, but instead entirely the work of the Moomy. That the Moomy must have used his dark arts to seduce her and that Usana was entirely blameless. His heart hardened toward the Moomy and so, when the Moomy was dragged before him some hours later, the Rama made it clear that there would be no trial. That the Moomy would simply be executed. The one bit of mercy he extended was that he would make certain that the execution would be swift.
The Moomy stood in the throne room, facing the Rama, and when he spoke his voice was low and dangerous. And what he said was, “I lay a curse upon you, Rama. The first-born son of a Shew will bring the entirety of Rogypt down. Nothing you can do will stop it. As I have spoken it, let it be written in the book of fate. Rogypt will fall, and it will be because of you! You!”
Everyone within hearing of the Moomy was clearly terrified of what he was saying, but the Rama was still filled with such outrage over the death of his queen that he ignored the curse. Instead, he angrily strode toward the Moomy and declared, “I need not wait for someone else to attend to this!” He pulled out his sword, swung it, and chopped the head off the Moomy. The head rolled across the floor, slid to a halt, and then—to the fear of all concerned—began to laugh uproariously. No one had ever heard or seen anything like it. Different people claimed different lengths for how long the laugh went on: Some said a second or two, others claimed a full minute. Either way, eventually the laughter tapered off and stopped, and then the head simply lay there, the eyes rolling up into their sockets. It was as dead as any other decapitated head would be.
The Rama stared down at the head of the man he’d come to view as his great enemy and the despoiler of the queen. Then he turned to his servants and said, “Remove this thing.” Then he said to his counselors, “Come with me.” He strode out of the throne room and the counselors followed in his path.
Moments later they filed into the central meeting room and the Rama turned to them and said, “Do you believe in the curse that the Moomy laid upon us?”
They all looked at each other, each of them afraid to speak. The Rama snarled at them. “I depend upon you for guidance! Do not be afraid to speak your feelings!”
Thus encouraged, they said, “Yes. We believe in the Moomy’s curse. How could we not? He laughed even after his head was severed. Someone who can do that can do anything!”
“Then how do we counter it? How do we prevent it?”
The question, once posed, had a remarkably simple answer.
When the Rama emerged with his advisors, they put forward a new decree that immediately became law: All first-born sons of the Shews were to be executed. Not only that, but it became law that from that point onward, any newly born first sons of the Shews were also to be terminated.
The new ruling appalled the Shews, and they begged for mercy. But there was no mercy forthcoming from the Rama, for he was interested only in saving the fate of Rogypt. So the law was declared, and the children sought out and slaughtered. The soldiers systematically cut them down, and their bodies were piled upon great smoking heaps. The black smoke reached toward the skies and the stench of so much burning flesh floated throughout the entirety of Rogypt. The wailings of the mothers was massive, filling the air day and ni
ght, but the Rama turned a deaf ear to it all because he knew that what he was doing was correct and just and in the best interests of all concerned.
And the law is enforced to this day, because even though much time has passed, the curse of the Moomy hangs over Rogypt and on some level everyone still waits for it to take effect and for the first born son of a Shew to destroy us all.
Chapter 5 Mummy Dearest
Once Ahmway had finished his story, he then lapsed into silence. I sat and thought about what he had told me. So on the surface of it, the existence of the law was purely to save the entirety of Rogypt from the curse of a long dead madman. Therefore it made sense to the Rogyptians and to all of the Ramas who were responsible for enforcing the law since then. They obviously believed that they were acting in the best interests of the country. It was impossible to reason with someone who thought that they were behaving on behalf of their entire people.
My gaze shifted to Ahmway. “What do you think? Do you set any store in this ancient curse business?”
“None at all,” Ahmway said firmly. “Tales of such things become distorted over the years. Unfortunately it’s not for me to fly in the face of the law.”
“What about the Rama? Would it be possible to talk to him about reversing it?”
“The Rama?” Ahmway frowned, obviously considering it. “It depends, I suppose, on the idea of someone managing to talk sense into him. But there are very few people that he listens to.”
“To whom does he listen?” To my mind, relieving the Shews of their status as slaves was no longer a priority, despite the fact that a piece of flaming shrubbery had assigned the task to me. But if I could get the Rama to revoke the law, at least that would be something to benefit them. Perhaps that would satisfy their unknowable god.
“Well, he has counselors and advisors,” Ahmway said thoughtfully, “but in truth, there are only two individuals who truly have his ear. The first is his main counselor. You saw him in the throne room with him earlier. His name is Mane. He first arrived here several years ago and wormed his way into close proximity with the Rama’s father, the previous Rama. He was with the Rama when he died. It was the Rama’s last wish that Mane serve as advisor to his son.”
“He probably killed him,” I said.
Ahmway looked astounded at the notion. “How could you say that?”
“Because it would be the simplest way for him to benefit himself,” I said reasonably. “Was there anyone else in the room when the Rama passed?”
“Well…no,” Ahmway admitted.
“Was the Rama’s death unexpected?”
“He had not been feeling well, but he did not seem fatally inclined.”
“Killed him,” I repeated with conviction. “So this Mane is definitely someone that we will want to watch out for. Who is the other?”
“The Rama’s nurse.”
I blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry, what? His nurse? Isn’t he a bit old for a nurse?”
“Well, she is somewhat more than a nurse. The Rama’s mother died in childbirth. The infant was given to the nurse and she effectively raised him. He is as devoted to her as he could possibly be to his own mother. And with the death of the Rama’s father, her rank has only risen since then.”
“What kind of woman is she?”
Ahmway thought about it, pursing his lips as he considered a response. “She has always cared very deeply about the Rama. And about others, as well. That has always irritated the Rama somewhat, which I suspect is influence from his father.”
“So is it possible she will listen to me about trying to get the Rama to change the law?”
He shrugged. “I do not know her well enough to predict what she will do. Plus she is a female, and they are inherently difficult to predict no matter what the circumstance.”
“That is certainly true enough. Would I be able to speak with her?”
“Of course. She is quite easy to access. Now that the Rama is much older and no longer requires her daily services, she spends much of her time at the Shewish care center.”
“The what?” I frowned. I had never heard of such a thing.
“It is something that the Shews established some years ago. It is a place where anyone who sustains injuries during the construction of the pyramids is able to go to receive healing. They call it a hospical.”
“That sounds rather convenient,” I said. “They should make more hospicals. Make them available to everyone.”
“Well, that seems like quite a good idea. Perhaps that is indeed something they will undertake in the future. But that is where she is, if you wish to go and speak to her.”
“Can you bring me there?”
“Of course,” said Ahmway. “I was assigned to attend to you in all things. Being a guide for where you want to go would certainly fall under my responsibilties. However,” and his voice dropped to a warning tone, “if I take you out of here and you attempt to flee, I will be forced to hunt you down. The Rama was quite clear that he wanted you to stay around.”
“Yes, he was,” I said thoughtfully. “And I wish I knew why.” I thought about it a moment more and then shook it off. “What is the woman’s name?”
“Nuskin,” he said.
“Nuskin? That does not sound likely a feminine name.”
“It is what it is.”
“That is true. All right.” I had been sitting for a time, but then I stood and slapped my legs. “Let us away.”
We awayed.
The journey to the hospical was without incident, which suited me just fine. It was nice to spend time in a place and not have it all turn to shite within minutes.
As we departed the palace, I had my first opportunity to study it from the outside. It was certainly majestic. It was several hundred feet high easily, and ornate statues of various Rogyptian deities decorated it. I was impressed by the imagination that went into depicting them. Most statues of gods that I had seen simply presented them as idealized human beings. These things, however, were bizarre mixtures of humanity and animal. Half-crocodile, half-jackal, half-eagle. All manner of beasts. I wondered what their backgrounds were and decided not to think about it overmuch.
We made our way through the streets and minutes later were moving into one of the seedier sections of town. In this part of the city, there was no view of the palace or any other more majestic buildings. Instead the shadows seemed to stretch everywhere, which on some level was quite soothing since it provided at least some relief from the incessant sun. The structures surrounding me were far more ramshackle, as if they had been slapped together with some sort of sticky substance rather than actually being built by people who knew what they were doing.
Ahmway indicated one building that was directly in our path and that was where we headed. We strode in and I was surprised by how deep and wide the place was. It consisted of one large, long room, and straw mattresses lined both sides. There were people lying upon the mats in various states of discomfort. Some were actually sleeping, but most were moaning softly while various individuals appeared to be doing their best to heal them of whatever was bothering them. Most of it seemed based in massaging, rubbing their shoulders or backs or various other body parts that had been damaged through excessive use.
“There,” said Ahmway, and he pointed toward one mat at the end. I saw the woman who was there rubbing the neck of a particularly haggard looking worker. What struck me most about him was his age. His hair was stringy white and hanging around his shoulders, and his face was worn and tired. I was amazed that this man could possibly be a worker.
The woman doing the neck rubbing, on the other hand, was stunning. I knew from the description of the Rama’s background that, if this was Nuskin, she had to be around my age. The unfortunate truth is that most women who tend to be as old as I am wind up looking much the worse for their years. Women’s looks tended to fade the moment they left their teen years behind. That was not the case in this instance, however. She seemed extraordinarily beautiful. Nor w
as she someone who tended to spend hours obsessing about various make-ups to enhance her features. She wore no make up of any sort; her face was clean and clear. Her thick black hair hung around her shoulders and there were streaks of gray in it, but somehow that gray actually complemented her appearance. Her face was triangular in shape and she had quite an elegant nose, with deep blue eyes on either side that were focused on the man she was massaging. Apparently she was doing quite a good job because he was sighing in relief and pleasure. For some reason I suddenly found myself jealous of him. I shook my head briskly as if to clear my thoughts and ordered myself to focus.
I wanted to speak up right then but could not force myself to interrupt her. So instead I simply stood there and watched her fingers working over his shoulders. Eventually, though, she became aware that I was watching her and shifted her attention to me. Suddenly I felt the need to look everywhere except directly at her. When I finally allowed my gaze to return to her, I saw that she was still staring at me, her face an amused question mark. I nodded briskly and she returned her focus to her patient.
Thus it went for another few minutes until she completed her therapy with that particular slave. She shook out her hands as if to restore feeling to them and then strode toward me. “You are not a Shrew.”
“I am not, no.”
“Nor are you Rogyptian. Yet you have a Rogyptian with you as a guard,” and she nodded toward Ahmway. “A member of the royal elite, if I am not mistaken.”
“You are not mistaken.”
“Then may I ask who you are?”
I bowed slightly for no reason that I can determine. “I am called Apropos.”
“Really?” She cocked one arched eyebrow. “By whom? People who are determined to make sport of you?” She asked it with no meanness. She seemed genuinely interested.