Trial of Anubis

٦: ZIARA

      "I hear the food is to die for in Alexandria. . .as are the girls. . ." Nathanial snickered. "If you name her right, boys trip to the Alexandria underground. If I win, that boys trip becomes a solo adventure all for me. . .and I get your sword."  

       "Bet," Anuka flicked his index finger against the bridge of his nose. "You first." 

        Nathanial tapped his fingers against his forehead, a gesture of receipt, "I reckon she's a Daughter of Isis. They seem the smart and bitchy kind."

      Wraith shook his head and stared at the statue of Isis. The goddess sat on her throne and stared out into the distance, her wings lay idle on the throne's arms. Even though she seemed harmless, Wraith could remember how ruthless and cunning she'd been towards him and the Great Father.

      "If she were, her protector would be a Son of Osiris," Wraith reasoned.

      Anuka switched his position on Ptah's head and stretched his legs, "Seeing that her toy was a Son of Horus, I'm guessing that she's a Daughter of Hathor. They were the dominant children back in the rein of Akhenaten, seems fitting."

        Wraith hissed, "Son of Horus to protect a Daughter of Hathor. . ." 

      "Fuck you have a point," Nathanial spat. "Can I change my guess?"  

      "You're bound by your word," the bandages retracted from Anuka's face, showing his grin. "Alexandria is sounding good about now." 

      Nathanial rose from his seat and headed towards the door, displeased, "I don't know about you guys, but I'm heading off to my room for a nap. Today's been tough on me, with all of this aura reading and creepy God-Talk."

       Anuka snickered from the statue, "It's daytime already. . .and knowing you, you'll go straight to Isfet and Ziara to spy."

      "Fine, I'll walk around the marsh. It's not fair though, just because you guys don't need sleep doesn't mean I don't," Nathanial sat back on the rock with a pout.

      Anuka's piercing eyes glowed beneath his black hair, "Meditation restores our power, it's an art that you're yet you master."

• • •

      Isfet seated Ziara on one of the mustaba-type beds in one of the many vacant rooms. Despite her many protests, Isfet insisted that she go to sleep.

      Beside her, he unfurled the large scroll and cracked his knuckles. The papyri held faded images of the Forty-Two judges and various passages relating to the Sons and Daughters. 

      "This is the history of our existence," Isfet explained. "For it to work, I need your cooperation. You must sleep." 

      "I just want to go back," Ziara sniffed. 

     "That's not possible, not after what you showed me," Isfet gestured to the mastaba. "Close your eyes." 

      Ziara reluctantly lowered herself onto the mastaba and closed her eyes. The fatigue she felt washed over her quickly and her body stilled. Before she fell into a light slumber, she heard Isfet murmur an Ancient Art.

       Ziara stood in the middle of a golden dais, her back against the scales of Ma'at. Large flat plates hung on either end, one contained the glowing feather of Ma'at and in the other; and empty clay jar should've held the deceased heart.

      Around her were forty-two thrones made from different natural elements. From memory, she could name two thirds of the gods and goddesses in the room. They were all in their true form, with the head of an animal and the body of a human.