Cursed Times - What Now?

Chapter 5 - Getting Hairy

Metjen went for the vegetables, this time dipping into the eggplant paste.

'Tell me, what is her Madness up to now?'

Metjen nearly choked on a grilled pepper. 'Mother be careful!'

She regarded him with an inscrutable expression on her face. 'Iseret is reading your mind, then?'

'No,' he said. 'That would be beyond rude. I simply would like to avoid using your little expressions by mistake. You might be left with only one son. Whereby, the way things are going, I won't need to worry about the temple for very much longer.'

Metjen's mother snapped her fingers, summoned a flatbread from its basket and started chewing pensively. 'Your father would be delighted. But what the heck is she up to?'

'Sorry, it's—I can't tell you the details, but Iseret was totally spooked. I've never seen her like this. Something went wrong, and she is now waiting for the hand of Fate to do...well, whatever Fate wishes to do.'

'I agree, that's wildly out of character,' his mother said.

Metjen picked up a chunk of melon and wandered through the lobby. 'I can already hear father's umpteenth rendition of his lecture on how stupid I was to join in the first place. It's bad enough I'm out of sync with the zeitgeist, joining a collective of magical freaks only to have things fall apart, is beyond annoying.'

His mother tutted. 'Metjen, you are rather rude sometimes. That was not a nice thing to say about the poor old Servants.'

He finished a glass of karkadi sweet enough to cause instant dental decay, with a touch of mint the way he liked it. 'Sorry, but it's true in a way. Without my sun-flow the temple would most likely have collapsed already. Nebmutef is too old to go Beyond and get the Divine Power and Iseret can't keep things afloat on her own. Nobody else has enough talent to even dream of the Blessing. Apart from... well... . ' He stopped himself in time before mentioning the twins.

Mother clapped her hands, and the tray hovered back into the kitchen. 'Go and get some rest dear, you're tired and that always makes you edgy.'

Metjen grabbed his bags, put his foot on the first step, opened his mouth, then shut it again. Mother was right, he was too weary to deal with the flood of private messages and e-mails from his various girlfriends. Juggling responses, let alone arranging meetings, would require more energy than he could muster at the moment.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, he thought as he climbed the staircase towards his flat on the top floor, Blondie following in his wake. He kicked the door shut and felt so shattered, he dropped his belongings on the floor once more and made it to his bed, where he fell asleep promptly.

It was dark outside when he woke up with a start. Something was licking his ear.

Blondie is hungry again. Metjen wondered what time it was, checked his watch, groaned and dashed into the bathroom.

He could not be late for dinner, it would upset his mother.

***

His father pushed an empty plate away. 'Would you kindly share what's going on? You're telling me Rani-Ra and Ranofer are not to join the servants—which indeed they shouldn't, and I wasn't aware they were ever planning to do so. And I don't want another of your little explosions, so we will not engage in that discussion again. I'm talking about the one where we disagree on why your esteemed maternal ancestors might have kept their distance from the Servants.'

Metjen carefully folded his napkin.

His father continued with today's lecture. 'From what I hear, Her Wisdom recently seems to be impersonating the Devourer on a permanent basis. If you carry on fixing things for her you'll soon look like something the cats would drag in were they allowed to go outside. It makes me wonder whether you lot have accidentally put a curse on yourselves?'