That was really clever of you, dear,' mother said and patted Seisi's arm. 'I was about to have a fit when Pharaoh came out with that bit about the great wife.'
The others yelled their agreement; all members of the Al-Nour family seemed incapable of keeping conversational noise levels within normal parameters. As they marched through the torch-lit Suka estate, their recollections of the royal visit ricocheted through the labyrinth of formal gardens and courtyards, releasing some of the tension that had accumulated during the day.
'So annoying we could not discuss things earlier, all these pesky soldiers on the boat.' Rani-Ra was gliding along, a vision in pink. 'I must admit, they did seem rather dishy, what do you think, Tru?'
Trueth trod on the hem of her dress and swore.
'Khasekhemwy meant well', the professor said. 'He wanted to honour us. I wish I could publish a paper on the equipment of the royal guards. Those scimitars were absolutely fascinating.'
'Who?' Trueth bunched the fabric of her robe in one hand to keep it off her sandalled feet.
'Pharaoh. He's named after his grandfather, bit of a mouthful, I agree,' the professor said.
'I wouldn't mind having one of those sword thingies, they look cool,' Ranofer said. He batted at a couple of moths that seemed to mistake him for a flame.
'Bit unwieldy for shaving. Not that you need to bother much.' His sister floated up the stairs into the brightness of the entrance hall where musk-scented coolness embraced them back into the palatial fold.
Seisi walked beside Trueth, his thoughts well-hidden behind his charming smile. Time to coax a response from the spymaster, Trueth thought.
Thanks for the compliment about my age!
What was I to say? The way he was ogling the two of you had me deeply worried, Seisi responded. And the ruse of the Lord Hanis was clearly not working.
The idea wasn't so bad at all. Pharaoh IS still mourning for his father and nuptials are out of the question. But it wouldn't have got him off our backs forever.
The corners of Seisi's mouth twitched once.
Trueth boxed him on the arm to emphasise her next point. But to say I'm well advanced in years is a bit cheeky. You could have used the same excuse as you did for Rani. I mean, bloody hell, we both have sun-flow, and he doesn't like that! And she too is older than the good king. Five years is a lot for a baby like him!
Seisi hid his laugh behind his hand. Forgive me, if I have caused offence. Yours is a beauty not common in the land of Kemet. He would want to-eh- sample it. So I had to make sure he would desire you no longer. Pointing out you have a dozen summers on him has achieved my objective, I believe.
You could have just told him my mum worked at the local chippie's. I mean, she worked at a market stall selling fried fish, Trueth projected.
She did that? Seisi's eyebrows were climbing on his forehead.
You know I'm no lady, now you know how unladylike I really am. Tell me something else, did Imhotep come up with that idea for your excuse?
Seisi shook briefly like a dog shedding water. I was, but he suddenly left and I could not reach him again.
He seems to have this knack of going incommunicado when you need him most. Trueth felt annoyed on her friend's behalf.
Seisi threw up his hands. My wishes are inconsequential. In any case, I fear the excuse I found might not have curbed all of Pharaoh's desires, not as far as the Lady Rani-Ra is concerned.
I agree, Trueth projected. At the end of the audience, he was positively leering at her. Let's worry about that another day. What does that bloke want?
Imhotep's long-nosed attendant was weaving his way through the pillars, on a collision course with their group. He only sketched a bow, yet his action seemed to be born from stress rather than the usual insolence. 'Forgive me, oh noble lords and ladies, but the Lord Imhotep requests your presence in the hall of council.'
Seisi returned the bow in kind. 'I shall retire, then.'
The attendant shook his head, agitating the beaded braids of his hairdo. 'The lord wishes to see all of you in a matter of great urgency.'
'Oh my God.' Rani-Ra covered her face with her hands. She then spoiled the dramatic gesture by peeping through her fingers.
Her move had reminded Trueth of something. Or somebody, better said. 'Where's Metjen?'
'The palace is still standing,' the professor observed correctly. 'He must have calmed down.'
'Hassan! Ah, sorry...Hanis,' mother said.
'What? Your son has the temper from hell, and he hasn't got it from me. At least not the pyrotechnics he deploys on every possible and impossible occasion,'
Imhotep's aide cleared his throat. 'The matter to be discussed affects the young lord, my lords and ladies. Would you care to follow me now? The holy scholar as well, please.' Despite his obvious concern, pointy-nose still managed to morph a request into an insult. If he found time for that, maybe things were maybe not quite as bad as they appeared, Trueth hoped.
'Oh gosh,' said Ranofer into the ensuing silence. 'What makes me think a long day has just got even longer?'
The attendant shook his head, clacking more of his beads. He ushered them toward one of the openings in the vermilion walls of the entrance hall; the ubiquitous winged sun disk above the doorframe gleaming in the torchlight. Pointing down a spiral staircase-the first of its kind Trueth had come across in Kemet-he said. 'Just proceed, all other members of the House of Suka are assembled already.'
Trueth regarded first the members of her new family, then Seisi. Nobody said a word. Nobody moved.
Mother Al-Nour straightened. 'Let's go then and find out, shall we?'
Descending in corkscrews all the way to the bottom Trueth felt an increasing pressure constricting her chest. With every step she took into the deep, the stranglehold of dread tightened. Or maybe she was suffering from a lack of oxygen, and they had better return to the surface... .
The staircase opened on an underground hall. It was illuminated by softly glowing silvery orbs mounted on the walls, a breeze of fresh air seemed to flow from nowhere but was nevertheless much appreciated.
Trueth's spirits lifted-only to plummet again when she beheld the congregation of Suka nobles scattered across the room on cushions and chairs, facing a grim-looking Imhotep. Not occupying airspace for once, he had instead flung his sinewy limbs over a striped reptile-footed sofa as if dropped by a malicious whirlwind. He seemed to have aged a decade in a day.
'What is going on?' Mother pushed ahead, confronting her ancestor across the hall.
'You will need to sit down,' Uramen, Imhotep's younger brother, said. A man in his fifties, he was as tubby as Imhotep was slim. His older sibling had hogged not only the looks but also all the sun-flow in their generation, so Uramen was the steward of the estate instead of becoming a holy servant.
'I don't want to sit. I want to know where my son is.' Metjen's mother was clenching and unclenching her fists; Trueth saw sparks appearing between her fingers and wondered whether all the magic in this world might be strenghtening Mother Al-Nour's supernatural condition.
A single look at the expression on Imhotep's face and Trueth forgot her medical considerations, forgot all the turmoil and frustration Metjen had ever caused in her life. She grabbed mother's hot fingers with one hand, her sister's clammy ones with the other; the professor and Ranofer joined the link. Behind her, she sensed Seisi's comforting closeness.
Mother hurled a verbal gauntlet at the man who held all the strings of power, but seemed helpless in the face of her anguish. 'He's dead, isn't he?'
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Image is from DeviantArt copyright Sanio
This chapter is dedicated to AlanSkinner, who writes beautiful novels which remind me of a lot of classics I used to read. I suggest to start with 'Brimstone', a Wattpad featured novel!