The Oracle of Avaris, page 15
part #3 of Secrets of the Sands Series
“You and Pepi … have always made a good team …” the king says at last. “My last command is that … you rule together, as co-regents.” His words strike the room’s occupants like Set’s bolts of light.
Co-regents?
Pepi, appearing only mildly singed, holds out his hand. “Cousin, can you let go of your anger and work with me for the good of Avaris and its people?”
Yanassi ignores Pepi’s outstretched hand and rounds on Tany, his hair almost on end, the electric pulse around him visible. “What did you say to him?” His voice is low and hissing. Abisha steps forward, spear at his side.
“Nothing I did not already know.” The king is aware of the shock waves his announcement is making through the room. “Kalali’s daughter is indeed the next oracle.”
Yanassi turns back to confront Pepi and his father.
“You would take my birthright from me?” the burly chieftain says to Khyan, making an effort to speak evenly.
“We are not Theban,” the king reminds him, gently. “We do not always inherit our titles … we earn them … As our fathers’ grandfathers gained their place here at Avaris with hard work and skill … so do its rulers.”
“I have heard enough.” Yanassi’s voice is hoarse, perhaps from the screaming he is doing on the inside. Spinning on his heel, he storms from the room.
“Farewell, my son,” Khyan whispers, barely able to lift a hand from the bed. He looks at Abisha. “See that this proclamation is made at once … to the court and the people.” Abisha nods and leaves the room after Yanassi. The king looks at Pepi, summoning his last scrap of strength. “I am sorry, Nephew … I do not leave you with an easy task,” he says, “but I know you will do all you can for this city and its occupants.”
“I will” — Pepi’s voice breaks on his next word — “Father.”
The king clears his throat, voice barely audible. “As much as that would be my honour … it is not the case.”
Pepi stiffens. “Of course.” He stands back from Khyan’s bedside. “Forgive me, Uncle, I will go check on my cousin.”
He rushes from the room, and the king sighs, his breath rattling through the hollow bones that are almost visible through his skin. He looks at Kazir and Min. “Shall we begin?”
31
HALF AN HOUR PASSES while Kazir and Min make the king as comfortable as possible, giving him a potion to relax. They begin reciting the incantations that will see him safely to the other realm. Though obviously hurt by the king’s denial of siring him, Pepi has rallied to be at his uncle’s side. I am there, with the scroll, as are Tany and Abisha. Yanassi is noticeably absent, and I still have not seen the princess. I wish for Paser and Reb’s presence, and anxiously wonder what’s keeping them.
Paser’s uncle is a fisherman, a small voice says. He has a boat … you told them they could leave …
Stop, I command the voice, taking a deep breath of herb-scented air. If there’s one thing I’ve come to trust these past months — make that two things — it is my “brothers.” They will come.
I look at Tany, desperate to know what she and the king spoke of. If she’s remembered the prophecy, she excels at keeping her emotions in check, a trick learned from her mother, no doubt. Pepi has this same trick, only he hides nothing as he stands there, gazing at the man he has worshipped his whole life, father or not.
“Are you comfortable?” he asks, putting a solicitous hand on the king’s brow. Khyan blinks and nods. The potion is having an effect, and he stares off into the distance, pupils wide and dark, fixed on something only he can see.
“It is time for the final rights and incantations,” Kazir says quietly. He lifts his hands to speak the sacred words that will see the king’s soul safely to the after-life. Candles flicker, casting their long shadows on the walls. A trio of musicians play instruments and sing melodiously in one corner, while dancers perform the sacred steps to escort the soul; they are the only other people allowed in the chambers.
The king gave his consent earlier, but Min asks him again, “Is it your wish, Khyan, to leave this realm of existence for a new one, at this time?”
“Yes,” the king breathes, “to leave behind the pains … of this broken body … and join my wife … on a more peaceful plane …” I wonder briefly about Yanassi’s mother. I don’t know much about her, only that she died of an illness many years back. “Has Yanassi … come?” His voice holds hope.
Pepi’s features tighten. “I’m sure he will be here any moment.” I can see he is furious with his cousin for not coming back to bid farewell to the man lying before us. I, too, feel angry at the chieftain for allowing his feelings to stand in the way of sending his father off.
“Would you like to say the final prayer for your uncle?” Min asks Pepi.
“Yes. There’s an incantation from the healer’s papyrus I wish to use.” He takes the scroll. Tany puts a hand on his shoulder, tears already welling at her eyes. My own eyes are burning with tears, too, along with the incense and herbs. Pepi unrolls the papyrus, locates the spell, and begins to recite. Both Kazir and Min step forward, each holding a vial.
“May the gods enfold you into their arms and bring you to the land of peace. There, you will be restored to your full glory and might.” Min offers the vial to the king to drink.
The king nods his assent, and Min puts the dark liquid to his lips. It undoubtably contains blue lotus and opium, to enhance the king’s tranquil state. Kazir steps forward to administer the next vial. This is the concoction that will ease the king’s breathing until it stops altogether. Some priests do not approve of this, but my father, too, believed the choice to end a dying man’s life, one who is in great pain, should be his and his alone. To make those we love most suffer the longest, for our sakes and not theirs, is callous, even if our intentions are good.
Khyan considers each of us. “Thank you … for allowing me … a dignified departure.” He nods at his loyal healers, then looks out on Abisha, Pepi, and Tany. “Until we meet again … beloveds.” Khyan takes the vial from Kazir; his hands do not tremble as he drains the potion to the last drop. “Additional wine … would’ve made it slightly more palatable,” he says, his old humour shining through. Kazir smiles as he takes the vial from the king, tears in his eyes.
Khyan lies back as Abisha and Tany murmur their choked goodbyes. Pepi holds his uncle’s hand, continuing with the incantation. Khyan closes his eyes. Finally Pepi’s voice breaks as he is overcome, unable to go on. I step forward and put a hand on his back, picking up where he left off, having memorized the spell.
I do not know if it is the sound of my voice that rouses him, but the king’s eyes fly open and he gazes directly into mine. “Sesha … make sure the Hyksos are not forgotten.” He nods weakly at the papyrus in Pepi’s hands. “Tell … our stories.”
“I swear it,” I vow, tears now trailing down my own cheeks.
The king nods, satisfied. An expression of peaceful contentment settles on his face, as he appears to be tucking in for a nap. The musicians play on, increasing their volume to a fevered pitch.
The singers weep between their songs, as Kazir and Min lift their hands over Khyan’s body. Their joined final incantation echoes through the chamber as they repeat the words until, after an eternity, Kazir bends his ear to Khyan’s mouth, one hand on his sunken chest feeling for a heartbeat that does not come. The spirit of the great Hyksos king is finally free from its suffering, leaving behind those who will mourn and remember him, which it is our utmost privilege to do.
32
“HOW ARE YOU?” I say to Pepi after he emerges from his uncle’s chambers with Tany. Abisha has gone with Kazir to inform the people of the king’s passing and to begin preparations for the upcoming ceremony that will honour the ruler’s life. Min stays and tends to the body, readying it for the next world.
“I feel his Ba close by.” Pepi looks around, as if expecting to see it perched somewhere. “I know he is not gone, just … in another place.”
“He is with the others who went before him,” I say, putting a hand on his arm. “Perhaps he will find your mother there.”
“It was quite peaceful, don’t you think?” Emotion makes his voice crack.
“A most dignified departure.” I keep my voice soft, like the diffused moonlight streaming in from the high windows above.
“Come, Brother,” Tany murmurs, “you must eat and drink something.”
“A week of mourning will be declared. Dignitaries and leaders of neighbouring villages who are coming for Yanassi’s wedding will want to pay their respects,” Pepi says, but his face darkens at the mention of his absent cousin’s name.
“How is Princess Merat?” I am hungry myself, but for news of my friend rather than food. I have not seen her since my return.
“The princess is … well,” Pepi says with an odd look, one that sounds a small gong in my head.
“Have you been spending much time with her?” I am careful to mind my face.
Pepi is just as careful with his own, his expression giving nothing away. “We’ve been working together on an operation she requested my assistance with.”
“And what operation is that?” I inquire.
“A diplomatic mission.” The gong sounds again, louder. “She sent an emissary to Thebes, to invite her family to attend her wedding ceremony.”
Blood drains from my head, pooling somewhere around my feet, which feel like bags of sand, the only thing keeping me upright. “The royal family is coming here?” I say faintly. I knew it was a possibility, but to hear of their official invitation is a shock.
“That will hinge upon their acceptance of our invitation,” Pepi says. “Merat feels if we can get her parents and the chieftain on improved terms, it might ease Yanassi’s resentment for the Theban dynasty.” The and dissuade him from declaring war on her home goes unspoken.
“Pharaoh and Queen Anat gave the chieftain their daughter,” I say shortly. “What more can Yanassi want of them?” But the depth of his bitterness toward Thebes makes oceans seem shallow.
“Their respect,” he says simply. “As you are aware, Queen Anat is most contemptuous when it comes to those whom she … disapproves of.”
“Yanassi has agreed to this?” I do not bother to hide my incredulity.
“He has,” Pepi affirms. “If I am to co-rule with my cousin, then I need to appease his ire for the Thebans. If Queen Anat and Pharaoh come to see for themselves the things our people have done and who we really are, perhaps we may earn their respect, in addition to their tribute.” Pepi turns to Tany, who has remained silent through our revelatory exchange. “You must tell me the final prophecy you relayed to our uncle in its entirety.”
Tany looks down, avoiding Pepi’s eyes.
Panicked dismay shoots the pooled blood back up my body. I feel last night’s meal rise along with it. “The prophecy has come to you?” They will both know I lied.
“We should go some place private,” Tany whispers, glancing over her shoulder.
“Follow me,” Pepi says. We walk down the hallway leading from the king’s room. How will Pepi react when he hears the prediction of the Hyksos’s fate? I give Tany a sidelong glance; it must be difficult, shattering hearts with your words. I think of the previous oracle. Maybe she did cut out her own tongue.
There is a loud commotion from the bottom of the grand stairway, out of place with the solemnity that has fallen upon the palace at Khyan’s passing. We race to the top of the landing.
Yanassi stands below, a knife to Paser’s throat. My friend’s hands are bound. Reb is there, too, his hands also bound, restrained by the Nubian, who has his sword at Reb’s back. It appears the reason for my friends’ delay was a fight. One they lost, apparently.
“We were just looking for you, Cousin.” Yanassi’s courteous tone is at odds with the scene. “And your sister.”
Pepi evaluates the situation, hands coming up in a pacifying gesture. “Grief can make us act in strange ways, Cousin.” He keeps his voice as level as the landing. “Whatever you plan on doing to our young friends will not ease our loss.”
“Our loss?” Yanassi gives a bitter laugh. “He was my father. Yet, despite my being his only son, the man cared for you more than he ever cared for me.”
“That is not true.” Pepi walks down the stairs, one cautious step at a time. Tany and I are right behind him. “I know there was discord between you, but please, for the sake of the kingdom, let us put it aside and rule together, as Khyan wanted.”
“I do not give a donkey’s behind for what he wanted,” Yanassi barks, dropping the fake geniality. “I, alone, will rule this kingdom.” He looks at Tany. “Tell me the prophecy.”
“Release them first.” She nods at the boys.
“I do not think so.” Yanassi’s eyes cut to the mercenary holding Reb. The scribe has a graze on his temple, yet retains his defiant look, as does Paser. “If you wish to test my sincerity, he will kill that one to start.” He gives Paser a shake, snapping my friend’s head back. “I myself will take great pleasure in ending this son of a jackal here.” The chieftain does not appear to be bluffing.
“Tell him, then,” I whisper to Tany, mouth dry.
“I do not know it,” she whispers, shocking me further. “You must reveal it.”
“Do not say a word, Sesha,” Paser says calmly, gold-flecked eyes holding mine. Though one is shot through with blood, it is still beautiful.
“If I tell you, how can I be sure you won’t harm them?” I’m thinking furiously.
“You have my word.” Yanassi gives a mock bow. “But I am running out of patience.” The knife slides gently across Paser’s throat and a thin line of blood wells in its wake. For the love of Isis!
I take a deep breath, smelling my own sweat, feral and rank. Pepi says what Yanassi wants most is respect. Fine, then. I will give it to him.
“Very well.” My throat feels raw. Am I making a huge mistake? “On your word and honour as a Hyksos and prince of the great king, now recently departed for the afterlife, I will tell you, and you will not harm my friends.” I hold Yanassi’s ferocious gaze and jeopardize one brother’s safety for the sake of the two before me. “The prophecy was this.”
But Another of the Physician’s Line
In Several Years to Come
Will Sneer at Levantine Light and Learning
And See It All Undone
They Will Wipe the People from Their Lands
A New Kingdom Will Begin
And the Glories of the Hyksos
Will All but Be Forgotten
Yanassi’s eyes grow wider, if possible, and he stares at me in disbelief as he takes in the oracle’s words.
“Now release Paser and Reb,” I command.
“Our people, forgotten?” His voice is dull, horror-stricken. “You are lying.” I shake my head, praying he doesn’t make the connection that, as far as he is aware, he and the Nubian have my “brothers,” or “another of the physician’s line,” in their clutches.
Unfortunately, Yanassi is not without some sense.
“Another of the physician’s line?” he repeats, with a look at Pepi, who appears as stunned and stricken as the chieftain. “Did you hear that, Cousin? One of these two will be responsible for the demise of our people. We cannot let them live.”
“If you believe the third prophecy, then you must believe the second, that one from the physician’s line will rule in prosperity and peace for forty years,” Tany interjects. “You do not know which one it is, realistically. They are all scribes, healers, it could be any of them.”
Tany makes a fair point, but as Yanassi wishes to rule himself, I do not think this argument will have any effect.
“I say we kill them all, just to be certain,” says the Nubian, his vile reptilian smirk having returned. “Who needs peace? War is much more profitable.”
“True,” Yanassi agrees, recovering some. “Forget the line of the physician, I will rule for forty years, and if in blood and war, so be it.”
“Enough,” Merat’s voice rings out. “Prophecies aside, those two are not Sesha’s brothers.”
Holy mother of Osiris.
The princess, and future queen of Avaris, walks toward us, as impossibly beautiful as always. “They are her companions, temple scribes.” Yanassi stares at her, mouth agape. “It is the truth, dearest one.” Her voice is soothing, melodious, like a sweet rainfall in the desert. “They only told you that when they first arrived at the oasis so you would not kill them.”
“Pity they only delayed the inevitable.” The mercenary raises his hooked blade, poised to slash down across Reb’s chest. “Because they are going to die now.”
33
“WAIT!” PEPI SHOUTS at the mercenary. “I, too, am now ruler of this kingdom, and if you kill these men, you will meet a slow and tortuous death.” He entreats his cousin. “You gave your word, Yanassi. I know that means something.”
“You lied to me,” Yanassi retorts. “You said they were the brothers of your betrothed.”
“They saved my life, and I was honour-bound to do the same for them.” Pepi appeals to the chieftain, the cousin he has known since birth. “They were under my protection. You understand honour, Yanassi, I know this.”
“You promised to let them go,” I remind the chieftain, striving for calm, keeping my manner respectful, deferential. “As they are not of a physician’s line, they are no threat to you.”
Merat floats over to the chieftain’s side. “Please, my beloved. My family may be arriving in a few days. I would not like them to find their former subjects with their throats slit.” Privately, I do not think Queen Anat would mind all that much. “You wish to prove to my parents you are not a savage heathen?” the princess challenges. “Then do so.”
Abisha and Kazir enter from a corridor, taking in the brutal tableau in front of them. Abisha lifts his long spear, going to stand by Pepi. “What is happening?”
Yanassi knows he is outnumbered. He lowers his knife and pushes Paser forward. The tall scribe stumbles but does not fall and rounds on the chieftain.
