Cursed Times - What Now?

Chapter 10 - Forbidden Chamber

The door burst open, and Khafa tumbled in, picking up his courage with a deep breath and exhaling a jumble of words. Nebmutef had sent him. Something unbelievable had happened—Iseret had not sealed the door to her prayer chamber. Metjen was to come and—

Metjen dashed into the corridor where he found a gaggle of priests in front of Iseret's cell. Nebmutef was among them and turned around as he arrived. They stared at each other, thoughts flying.

Why did you call me? Metjen projected.

Because I cannot abide what she is doing recently, and the others have said as much. It is not right, Nebmutef retorted.

And what do you want from me? Metjen projected.

We want you to go and see whether you can gather information in her chamber—you are the only one who has the power to mask your presence..

It could be a trap, you know. If I were Iseret, I would not leave this room unsealed. And if I did, I would turn into the Devourer when I found out about intruders in my chamber. Sweat started to break out all over Metjen's body.

Yes, but you will know beforehand if there is a trap and you will not go if this is the case. I have not sensed anything for sure, and I rode on the power of the others. You are the only one who can do this.

Nebmutef looked at him with an expression that could have been described as puppy love, had he not been so old. We need your help. The others are much shaken, and they even talk of going away forever, nothing is as it has been for so long, and we are lost without you.

Nebmutef was waving his hands around in increasing agitation.  Trueth stared in bewilderment while the silent argument was exchanged. She put a finger in her ear and wriggled it. More priests had gathered, and they all regarded Metjen with adoration and hope in their eyes.

It gave him a warm glow in his belly.

They were right, only he would be able to succeed where others could not, and it would all be for the better. He had forever been doing things differently, and it usually worked ...  He went giddy with elation—this was how it must have felt when his ancestors had led their armies into battle!

'You are right.' Metjen declared and faced the doorway. He focussed into himself, drew on his sun-flow and muttered a reversed invocation to Wadjet. No veil, no trap—the chamber was open.

Of course, there was a risk, Iseret had more power than he did, but she also had no reason for mistrust. He took his decision. Trueth must have realised what he was about to do for she shouted at him to wait, but Metjen once more invoked the Goddess of Protection--this time in the right order--and strode inside. 

He stopped cold as a fusty miasma composed of damp clothing and metal assaulted his nostrils.

The chamber was not big nor did it contain a lot of furniture. Facing him was a seat on a raised dais with a cushion and a low table in front, cluttered with the implements of a scribe and not a tidy one at that. Dried inkwells lay scattered around or had been toppled over.Split reeds were strewn over table and floor, as were a number of papyrus scrolls, most of which must have been there for a long time as their edges had started to discolour.

Many baskets containing more papyri were lined up along the walls, together with a profusion of trunks. The odor was even stronger here. His previous resolution evaporated when he saw this clutter. He could not search it all. His protection would not last long, and he did not dare to stay in the chamber without it.

And the stink was making him sick.

A queasy feeling of dread spread up from his stomach, he picked his way through the mess towards the table. It seemed to be the place she was occupying most—now there was an idea. He turned towards one of the corners that contained her personal shrine and a small golden statue of a kneeling Hathor with the disk of the sun caught in the horns on her head. A wooden bowl of offering contained two scraps of papyrus.