Theodosia and the Last Pharaoh

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT The Weighing of the Heart

OUTSIDE THE TENT, Khalfani and Hashim were waiting to escort us to the temple. Khalfani gave me an encouraging smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

As we made our way through the tents to the temple, we picked up a bit of a following, much like a cat's tail picks up a collection of burs. By the time we'd reached the temple proper, we were a small crowd. As Major Grindle and I made our way across the courtyard, the throng followed, silent as a shadow. They stayed with us as we crossed the Hypostyle Hall and, much to my surprise, followed us into the first antechamber, crowding around us as best they could. We were to have an audience, then.

The three sem priests filed in and took their seats. I was struck by how many times I'd seen this exact tableau—on a tomb wall painting.

The high priest stood. "The accusations before you are grave. Yet you have also done much to commend your actions. We have looked to the stars, cast the bones, and scattered the entrails, yet the signs are not clear."

The rustling behind us increased to a muttering. Apparently the signs were always clear.

"You"—he looked straight at me—"have traveled far and endured much to return what belongs to us, and for that you have our gratitude. But you have also seen our secrets and been exposed to our mysteries, and this is forbidden."

The room grew so quiet, I could hear the faint wheezing of one of the priests.

"Because your actions were carried out in good faith, Maat will be served when you have drunk of the Wine of Forgetting. Then we will return you to your family."

"What exactly is the Wine of Forgetting?" I asked, not liking the sound of it one bit.

"It is a draft that will wipe us from your mind, child." Baruti looked sad. "But it will do you no lasting harm."

"But Awi Bubu said—"

"He lost his right to speak for us when he was cast from our midst," Fenuku said, with far more relish than necessary, I thought.

"But if I forget, how can I help? Awi Bubu was certain I had a role to play. Forgetting will not help me fulfill that."

"The wedjadeen have survived millennia without the help of an Inglaize girl," the high priest said. "I feel certain we shall be fine."

"You would be wrong!" a feeble voice called out from somewhere behind me. I turned around in time to see the crowd parting as someone worked his—or her—way forward. In the silence, I heard a ... cowbell?

An old woman pushed her way out of the crowd. She wore an ancient, tattered black gown lined with gold on the hem. From the sash at her waist was a red cord. An ancient bronze cowbell hung at the end. As she drew closer, she lifted her head and I bit back a gasp. She did not wear the traditional veil that so many of the women in Egypt did. Instead, she had a tattoo on her forehead, a large disk with a horn rising up on either side.

Fenuku scowled at her, and I slipped my fingers around my Babel stone just in time to hear him say, "What do you want, old woman?"

The high priest poked him in the ribs—hard—and hissed at him to be silent. "Be welcome, Mother."

She smiled, revealing a number of missing teeth. "That's better," she said. "I have come to speak on the girl's behalf."

A collective gasp went up from those behind her, and Fenuku's scowl deepened. Major Grindle looked as though he were watching a particularly close cricket match.

"What gives you the right to speak on her behalf?" Fenuku demanded.

The old woman glanced at me then, and her eyes softened. "Because I attended her on the seventh day after her birth," she said. "And foretold her fate that day. I would tell it again before all of you."

Pandemonium ensued. The sem priests began arguing among themselves and the assembled wedjadeen behind us exchanged excited whispers. Major Grindle stared at me with what looked remarkably like envy. "You were born in Egypt, Miss Throckmorton?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Yes, apparently."

"Did you know that you had been attended by one of the Seven Hathors?"

"Hardly. I don't even know what the Seven Hathors are," I pointed out. Even so, I was trembling with excitement. Here was someone who knew something about my birthplace, something about what made me me.

"Silence!" the high priest finally demanded. "We will let this Hathor speak."

"Nearly twelve years ago, my sisters and I were summoned by the goddess to attend a newborn."

"But she is an Inglaize girl!" Fenuku interrupted. "Surely the Seven Hathors only visit Egyptian babes."

The Hathor scowled. "But she was born in the Temple of Isis, on a fortuitous day, and the goddess summoned us nevertheless. It was clear we were to bestow such blessings as we could, in order to prepare the child for the great fate that awaited her."

The high priest leaned forward. "And what fate is that?" he asked.

"Are you too blind to see what is before your own eyes? The girl is hekau," the Hathor's voice rang out. "A possessor of great magic."

Honestly, Fenuku looked as if someone had put a dead scorpion in his honeyed wine.

"Not only that, she is Rekhet."

Voices erupted at that proclamation and even Major Grindle looked at me with new eyes. I just wished I knew what on earth it meant.

Baruti's eyes sparkled—with pleasure or mischief, I couldn't tell. "This changes everything," he pointed out.

The high priest sighed. "This girl is much trouble for one so small. But you are correct. We will have to consult with the Seer of Maat."

At that announcement, the old woman reached out and patted my hand. I smiled into her ancient eyes and, for the first time, felt that someone here was glad to see me.

Fenuku was wretchedly unhappy with this turn of events. "There is still the matter of the Inglaize major to be settled," he reminded us. From the evil smile he wore, I did not think we were going to like this one.

The high priest picked up a piece of papyrus. "Major Harriman Grindle, you have been charged with laying hands on the pharaoh, penetrating our secrets, and having knowledge of our whereabouts. You also display a disturbing grasp of magic, magic that no one but the wedjadeen should know. Maat will be served only when your life is forfeited."

"No!" I shouted, forgetting myself. "You can't be serious!"

"Silence!"

"He did everything in his power to save Gadji."

"Now, now, Miss Throckmorton. Enough of that." Major Grindle gave me a bracing pat on the back. "We've played our hand and it's run out."

I stared at him. "Are you off your nut? They're talking of killing you!"

"I am an old soldier, Miss Throckmorton. A threat of death is nothing new to me. Indeed, it may be the beginning of a whole new adventure."

I wanted to scream. Did he have to be so noble minded about it? Why didn't he fight, argue, make them see—

That was it. See. "Wait!" I said. Baruti looked at me with interest, while the other two sem priests seemed annoyed. "Wait. All these things he did—touching the pharaoh and knowing your magical secrets and where you live—those are only a crime because he isn't one of you, correct?"

"Yes," the high priest said.

"Well, what if he was one of you?" I asked.

"What do you mean, child?" Baruti asked.

I marched over to Major Grindle. "Forgive me, sir, but I would never ask this of you if your life wasn't at stake."

"Ask what, Miss Throckmorton?"

I cleared my throat, suddenly embarrassed. "Ask you to unbutton your jacket, if you please."

"What?" he blustered.

Under my breath, I whispered, "Trust me, please?"

He stared into my eyes, then slowly nodded. "If you insist." He lifted his callused hands to the brass buttons on his red coat and began to unbutton them.

"Now your shirt," I said softly. "I want them to see your tattoo."

Raising an eyebrow, he did as I asked and unbuttoned his shirt.

"Now open it wide so they can see," I said.

He grasped his shirt in his hands and pulled the collar apart. A brilliant wedjat eye stared back.

Slowly, like a fire catching at tinder, murmurs spread throughout the sanctuary. The high priest leaped to his feet while Fenuku sat blustering, as if he'd sprung a leak. Baruti, who I was beginning to suspect must be Awi Bubu's twin brother, merely stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Would you care to explain why they're all agog, Miss Throckmorton?" Major Grindle asked out of the side of his mouth.

"Because that tattoo that you consider to be a mark of the Brotherhood? It is the very same mark they bear as members of the wedjadeen."

His eyebrows shot up to the top of his forehead, and Khalfani murmured, "It is so."

The high priest and Fenuku were engaged in a fierce debate, so Baruti rose to his feet to address the crowd. "This entire matter is more complicated than we first knew. Both matters will have to be brought before the Seer of Maat. That is all." With one last curious glance in my direction, he turned and disappeared through the door.

Baruti's announcement took the heat out of the two arguing sem priests, and they, too, rose to leave the chambers. As I watched them exit, my knees grew wobbly with relief and I decided I needed to sit down in the worst possible way. Silently, I lowered myself to the floor and leaned up against one of the columns.

Major Grindle looked up from rebuttoning his jacket. "Are you all right, Miss Throckmorton?"

"Yes. Just having a little rest." But the truth was, my head felt as if it might explode. "What happens now?" I asked Khalfani.

"They will take the matter before the Seer of Maat, and he will most likely summon you so that he may discern the truth in your words."

Word of the trial's results—and surprises—traveled quickly and I felt everyone watching me as I made my way back to our tent. I couldn't tell if the looks were filled with judgment over my guilty sentence or awe and fear because I was a Rekhet. I kept my head down and refused to meet anyone's gaze.

When at last I reached the safety of our tent, I hurried inside, anxious to see how Sefu was doing. However, word of this morning's events had reached even here. As I greeted Safiya, she sank gracefully into a deep bow.

I couldn't bear it. "Oh, stop that, Safiya! Please! Get up."

She lifted her head and peeked up at me. "Effendi miss is not angry that I have treated her without the proper honor?"

"No! Not at all. I didn't even know until fifteen minutes ago, and I still don't really understand what it means." As I spoke, I crossed the small tent and knelt beside Sefu's still form. "Has he changed at all?"

Safiya got to her feet and shook her head. "Not really. But I did get some more honey water down his throat."

"Good." Still afraid of what I would see in her expression, I busied myself with straightening the monkey's bedding.

"What happened to your major?" Safiya asked.

"He lingered behind to speak with Khalfani. I think they might be comparing tattoos," I muttered.

"Tattoos?" she repeated.

Interesting that bit of news hadn't reached her yet. "Major Grindle—all the men in his organization—wear the same wedjat-eye tattoo that the warriors of Horus do."

"How is this possible?"

"Well, that is what everyone is dying to find out."

She frowned. "Does it mean that he, too, is a warrior of Horus?"

"I'm not certain." During the trial I had claimed that it did, but I didn't know that for a fact. It was a bit of a bluff, actually.

Between talking of Major Grindle and tending to Sefu, things had grown easy between Safiya and me once more. "Safiya, what exactly does being a Rekhet mean? No one's told me anything."

She glanced up at me shyly. "It is a great honor the gods have bestowed upon you, miss. They have given you the power to see the heka that lurks in our world, heka both good and evil. This makes you very valuable in our fight against Set."

I sat back on my heels. So that was it. That was why I was able to detect curses and lingering mut so easily. "Are there many Rekhet among you?"

Safiya shook her head.

"Why me?" I wondered, then nearly jumped out of my skin when a voice behind me answered.

"Why not you, child?"

I whipped my head around and saw the Hathor standing just inside our tent. I heard a faint thunk as Safiya dropped her forehead onto the ground in a deep bow. I wondered if I was supposed to bow, too.

"The gods select what tools they may, child," the old woman continued. "It is not for us to question them. May I sit down, please? I have traveled far these past few days."

"Yes, yes. Of course." I jumped to my feet at the same time Safiya did and we bumped into each other in our eagerness to see to the old woman's comfort.

Once we'd gotten her settled, Safiya brought her some water, which she drank gratefully. When she was done, she turned her attention back to me. "When my sisters and I attended you on the seventh day after your birth, we sensed this great power in you, and because of that, a great destiny was foretold. We briefly considered taking you with us so we could train you in the full use of your gifts. In the end, we decided that the gods surely knew best in giving such power to a foreign babe, so we did not meddle."

"Did my mother know of your visit to me?" I tried—without success—to picture my mother letting seven women who looked as if they'd stepped right off a temple frieze into her house, let alone into her newborn's room.

The Hathor shook her head and snorted. "No. It was the housekeeper who let us in while your mother slept. She never knew we were there.

"If you had grown up with us, we would have begun your training at five years of age. We Hathors would have had a hand in such training, and the sem priests as well. Even so, you seem to have done quite well on your own. A thirsting mind seeks knowledge like a withered vine seeks water."

The old woman leaned forward then. "And Awi Bubu was right. You do have a role to play in our fight against Set. You are, I think, to lead us to wholeness. So, how does young Awi Bubu fare?"

I blinked rapidly, trying to keep up with the lightning-quick change in her manner from prophetess to village gossip. "He is well enough, but he could be better."

"Tell me how you came to know him?"

Honestly! I should just publish the story in the local paper and be done with it! I repeated the story, the entire story this time, leaving nothing out. When I was done, the Hathor cackled. "You see? Even his fall from grace has a role to play, for without him in your country, how would you have learned of us?" She fell silent as the import of her own words struck her. "Hmm. I must go point that out to the council. Surely they will see the gods' hands in this and revoke the order of exile they placed upon Awi Bubu's head."

At last! "Oh, thank you! That would be wonderful. He's wanted nothing more than to be forgiven by his people and allowed to come home. If," I said sadly, "he ever makes a full recovery and is well enough to travel."

The old Hathor took her leave and Safiya had other duties she had to attend to. I was actually grateful for the solitude and laid my spinning head down onto the pillow next to Sefu. I carefully placed my hand so that it touched his furry little body, wanting him to know he wasn't alone. Or perhaps I was the one who didn't want to be alone.