Gods and Queens

Chapter Twenty-six

Fool. That was who Thutmose was. A foolish man so puffed up with anger and pride that he couldn't see straight—couldn't think! Quatesh scowled as he thought deeper about what one of his spies told him. Thutmose had plans of going after the Israelites. The man was like a stubborn child, a toddler who kept forgetting how dangerous fire was. And the three men he saw bothered him too. Their sighting, no matter how brief, set him on edge.

"Have any of you seen them again?"

Quatesh was seated at his new lair at the base of the temple. His throne was made of interlacing knotted vines overlaid with hardened tar and bronze, and the elevated chair held his tall, lean frame quite regally. How he loved this new status.

The lair was an inner prayer room with bare walls and an absence of furniture or windows. Several candles burned on tall heaps of yellow and black wax. The priestess was present, seated cross-legged at a corner, chanting incantations and trapped in an induced trance.

"Who, master?" The gathering of about twenty thin serpents asked in unison.

"The men I told you of! Idiots!" Quatesh balled his fists and gritted his teeth. He was on the brink of losing control and he hated the feeling. Fury was brimming in him and it pushed to be expressed. He fought it though, he had never been one to give in to fury but recently, with all the power that came with worship, his control seemed to be slipping.

"Not good, not good, not good..." he chanted under his breath and tapped a foot. He was beginning to understand why Ra always acted hot-headed. The kind of power worship gave was maddening, like a sea of fire that never stopped raging.

"We saw nothing. But the traitor talks to—"

"Talks to who? What was she saying?" Quatesh asked impatiently as he stared down at the little floating snake that chose to speak up.

"We do not know who she speaks to or what she says. It's almost like her words are spoken in a different language, either that or she has slipped into insanity."

"Nonsense! We understand every language under the sun. How can it be that you are unable to decipher what she was saying? Imbeciles!" Quatesh spat.

Calm down! He chided himself internally. This is not you, it's the power talking. Control this.

Quatesh sighed and leaned deeper into his throne. Shutting his eyes, he allowed his shoulders to loosen and almost immediately he felt the rage seep out of him and in its place was the familiar calm.

Now think, then speak.

But as he was about to speak, an unfamiliar aura wafted towards him. It was faint, almost as if the owner was trying hard to suppress his presence.

"All of you, leave. Keep watching the woman, if anything unusual occurs, send words to me." Quatesh flicked his wrists at them, shooing them away like a pestering flock of pigeons.

"And where do you think you are going?" Quatesh asked as he felt whoever the aura belonged to try to retreat.

"Don't even think of running." Focusing intently on the aura, he smiled when he pinpointed the location of the infiltrator. When the spy increased his retreating pace, a cold smile spread across Quatesh's grey lips.

It would seem we have a scapegoat.

Raising a hand above the armrest of his throne with his palm facing up, he pointed two fingers in the direction he was sure the spy hid. When he crooked his fingers, he watched, fascinated, as a long black snake struggled against the pull of his control. It was a normal snake, but Quatesh knew the animal was possessed. Frowning heavily, he pulled even harder, eager to see which foolish spirit chose to possess one so similar to his kind.