Wings of Time

Unexpected Birthday Gift

The great hall of the Thebes Palace looked as it did in legends. Streams upon streams of colorful cloth draped down from the ceiling, showing off the riches and splendor of Egypt. Golden plates full of exotic foods lined the low tables. Scattered through the crowds weaved exotic dancers, silk running through the air about them like water and wrapping about each of their sweet, round breasts. Ageless faces of the gods watched the party goers mingle beneath them from their high vaulted ceiling, and on a marble and gold throne sat the Pharaoh himself watching with them.

He grinned and nodded his approval, fingering the golden pyramid hanging from his neck. Its leather string was hidden beneath the intricate, thick beaded necklace reaching out to his shoulders. An eye of Horus gleamed in the firelight.

"Very, very well done, Set. Where did you get so much cloth? And those strange knots they make along the pillars, where did you get that idea from?"

The man who he was speaking to, a tall, grey eyed Egyptian, inclined his head to the Pharaoh gratefully. Tucked into the crock of his arm sparkled a golden rod with an identical eye of Horus to his pyramid.

"The Greeks, oh great one. They depict their gods living in what appeared to me as swathes of cloth, and it fascinated me."

"Huh," the Pharaoh looked back to the gathering before him. "The Greeks are certainly interesting people. I hope you did not go to such lengths as importing cloth from the Greeks themselves to achieve your aspirations."

The tall Egyptian chuckled. "Of course not, your grace. You know of my frugality."

"I was being sarcastic. On sale then?"

"Surely not! They were on clearance, bottom of the basket."

A laugh bubbled to his lips. Set, one of his closest advisors and friend, smiled in satisfaction. No sooner had the king's chuckles died down when a stout, stocky man herded the crowds aside, calling out in his booming voice:

"Make way! Make way for the Magicians of Hanou!"

"Magicians of...what?"

"Hanou, your grace," said Set, "they were a last minute addition, since the, um, firebellies lost their lead dancer to his own foolishness."

Atem frowned. He knew that tone. "Don't tell me—"

"Yes."

The frown turned into a deep, disapproving scowl. "Idiots. Shadow games are not to be taken so lightly. It was probably over something inane like sheep or lentils."

"Clearly, sire." As the clear space in the middle of the great hall grew, Set gestured to the steps coming down from the Pharaoh's throne. "May I...?"

"Oh! Yes, of course. You more than deserve it for all your hard work."

Set couldn't have looked more pleased. He nestled himself besides the flat stone of his monarchs throne, smoky grey eyes sharp upon the opening doors.

They came in a whirl of purple smoke. When the smoke cleared, three men stood in the middle of the hall drawing gasps from the audience. Each wore long braids down to their hips, and their hair and skin were the color of dark earth. The Pharaoh whistled.

"Nubian? You brought magicians from that wasteland in the south? Set, you old hound."

The advisor merely bobbed his head. "Only the best for your highness's birthday."