"Not only do silver or trimmed violet wane
But you too fade together with them/
Into earth, into smoke, into powder, into shadow, into nothing." --Soneto CLXVI, Luis de Argote y Góngora
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Ka
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Two Weeks Later
"Seto?"
Set opened his eyes at her voiced command and saw nothing but darkness in his dream. The air was frigid. But almost immediately after voicing his discomfort, Set heard the voice again, and a tiny white pinprick shot in the lightless surroundings. The pinprick expanded in a thin chain small enough to pass through a needle's eye, brightening as it coiled around his right wrist, forearm, and fingers. He heard her voice indistinctly again. He anticipated something else, but as soon as everything began to clear his mind was pulled out of the darkness…
…and into the dim morning light, into consciousness. He was still in bed.
"Hey, Seto." Antigone murmured against his ear. "Don't you have your lecture this morning?"
He regularly taught fifty of the capital's best aspiring (as in wannabe) scholars at dawn. The sun hadn't fully risen yet, but he had little time to prepare himself. Before heading to the bath, Set closed the curtains to the balcony, which had no doubt opened the draft that made him feel cold in his dream.
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From his lofty view on a sparkling white balcony overlooking the capital, a cluster of royal palm trees and the Nile beside, Set could not see the activity coursing through the city's canal-like streets and back alleys. One back alley was laid high with garbage so putrid few rats ventured to steal bits of moldy breadcrumbs. The locals called it Piss Alley, as even the lowliest Egyptian was too clean to do more than relive himself here, which was why the young woman felt safer huddled between the trash than out in the open.
Three nights ago the young woman picked the lock on her shackles, tiptoed around her masters' sleeping children, climbed to the roof and jumped across to neighboring roofs until she found a ladder to climb down and a place to hide. She left with nothing more than her tunic on her back and a sketchy plan in her head, but the escape was so exhilarating: I'm finally free! She thought, leaping across another roof with the enthusiasm of a child. The gods have been listening to me after all! I'm free!
Or so she thought.
Freedom was almost unbearable now. The young woman regretted leaving impulsively. If she only realized three days ago, before she had to nibble on half-rotten fish and onion strips, that she must bring food with her. If only she realized three days ago, before she stole away in the safe cover of night, that she needed a solid travel plan, because her white appearance made her a conspicuous target by day and night travel wasn't very safe. After only a few days she was starving and dizzy with fear and famish. If the young woman stayed, she knew she would starve or suffocate in the swarm of garbage hiding her; but if she turned herself in, her master would certainly beat her if not to death, and deprive of food anyway. The only choice she had was to leave the city. Today, she decided. I must move today.
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Set's footfalls echoed against the stone chamber like drumbeats. His students shuffled along tiered benches, whispering quietly or impulsively twitching their quills against the papyrus sheets. Although the young men were the best rising scholars from Damascus to Kush, Set regarded them as peacockish fledglings who put more time in ornately knotting their sashes and tucking black heron feathers behind their ears. Once Set took his place at the podium the room quieted almost immediately.
"Today we conclude our study of the soul," he began, "with the aspect most directly impacting recent events: the Ka. Today's lecture is more practical than previous ones, but we begin first with theory. Define Ka." "The spirit, sir," a student in the front answered.
"Which is what?" Set countered. "I said 'define'."
"Sir, it is that which makes one unique from another," spoke another, a young Greek with blond hair. "Personality."
"You are thinking of Ba, Alexander, which I covered last time. Does anyone else wish to botch my lecture with another incorrect definition before I spoon feed it to you all?"
Virtually all the scholars' faces reddened with their usual fear of him, although one embarrassed pupil raised his hand tentatively. "L-life force, Your Honor."
"Yes. Ka is Life Force." He wrote the hieroglyph on a long parchment tacked to a board, a pair of arms raised at parallel right angles. "That which distinguishes us, the living, from the dead. Meskhenet"--he wrote the hieroglyph and tapped it--"goddess of childbirth breaths Ka into every man the instant he is born; one is dead when his Ka has left the body. It rests in the Ib--for those of you I must remind again," he added sharply, "the Ib is the Heart. Although separate from the body, the Ka requires sustenance as the body does: food, drink, and so on. It is known to us as the 'double image', or in other words, one's Ka is an imprint of the individual. Speak," he permitted a scholar to ask a question.
"My Lord, some argue that the Ka is a twin, or ghost. Is this true sir?"
Set lifted a bronze goblet at his right and drank some water. "It is an overstatement to say Ka one's 'copy' or ghost. But we do know the Ka is an aspect of immortal personality that functions with the Ba and Akh--even if the body dies, Life Force simply doesn't 'evaporate'. Therefore, if the Ka is a distinct imprint, and if it is undying, it is certainly something of a double unique to whomever it belongs. Any more questions thus far?"
One of the youngest scholars asked, "What does a Ka look like, sir…?"
"We'll get to that. First--understand the Ka's relationship with the Heart. If I must remind those of you who don't know by now," he glared at Alexander, "The Heart controls emotion, thought, will, it houses the soul, and so on.
"If you have led a virtuous life, you possess a virtuous, light heart; if you have led an evil life, you possess a heavy and wicked heart. On the Day of Judgment, your Heart is weighed against the Feather of Ma'at, the justice goddess. If your Heart balances with the Feather, you enjoy paradise; if it is heavier than the Feather, it is consumed by the monster Ammit, and your Ka--your only existence left in the universe--is destroyed with the Heart."
"Therefore, in the case of a wicked man's Heart, what can be said of his Ka?" he demanded.
"The Ka is also wicked," a student in the back said, "because his Heart is wicked."
"Correct. The Ka is wicked." He looked at the young scholar. "Which brings us to your question Bes: what does a Ka look like? Innovations in magic have allowed us to do what was impossible: project a human Ka." He went to the portals, where there was a long tassel rope hanging from the ceiling, and pulled it. Immediately after the call two slaves carried a figure wrapped in a white sheet on a panel board, and dropped it on the floor. The bang caused some of the scholars to jump in their tiers. Set beckoned them to move closer, and they swarmed around the lumpy white sheet with fear and interest.
"The specimen you are about to witness is a product of the Memphis Jailhouse," the High Priest explained as the scholars stared at the white sheet's presumed face. Its groans echoed against the walls. Some of the scholars were a little uneasy. Many reclined as far as space would allow, some could barely look and a few refused to look altogether.
"Queasy?" Set taunted. "Well now it's time to get your nose out of the books. Now!"
A slave whipped the sheet aside, exposing a heavily-chained individual lying on his back with his eyeballs thrust almost to the back of his head, exposing the bloodshot whites. His body was mutilated with bruises and his mouth was gagged with thick scarves. He should have been a corpse, but to their mounting horror, the man was alive. Most averted their eyes only when Set removed the ever-powerful Millennium Rod, and without a word the High Priest rapped its knobbed end against the criminal's forehead.
The chamber exploded into rays of light rivaling the sun god Horus himself, though its sudden burst (rather than its brightness) forcefully blinded everyone standing nearby. The man writhed in silent agony. Soon light was accompanied by sound, awful screams, then colors, a stench, all of which swirled into a hideous, bat-like beast screeching above their heads. Someone retched. Only Set looked into the creature's split-pupil eyes fearlessly. "A Bat Ka," he said coolly. "The subject has a history of theft and served a year in the Capital Jailhouse. He was a janitor in the Imperial Botanical Study until six months ago. How fitting, that a thief's Ka should resemble a bat?"
He slashed the Rod's blade upwards and the monster was sucked into a concentrated pinpoint and faded out. All that was left of the man were his chains and white sheet. Everything went quiet, though not peaceful; the sight was too unnerving. Set glanced at the scholars contemptuously as he lowered his fist. "None of you may realize that Ka isn't half as bad as other specimens. While you fix your nose between scrolls, a demon has used sorcery to manipulate the Kas of the basest individuals in the kingdom…"
Satis, one of the scholars in the back, tapped Alexander's shoulder. "We could get a good inside ticket to the High Priest's experiments if we found a good specimen," he said, rubbing his chin.
Alexander scoffed. "Look for lowlifes? In today's heat?"
"Why not? I've noticed the spike in arrests lately; the High Priest is looking for a strong Ka, I'm sure if it. If we find it for him, he will take us in his inner circle and we may become his disciples and learn the real magic."
Not a bad deal, Alexander thought.
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At high noon Piss Alley was baking. The young woman stumbled from her garbage shelter and into the streets, more fatigued by thirst than hunger or worry. The streets were packed today on top of the usual peddlers, curtained street merchants, donkey carts, and pedestrians. A few people she passed gave her putrid stares, but none bothered her. When she swallowed, her throat felt as dry as a papyrus sheet. She needed to get to the city gates, out of the city, and to the next town, but she would die of thirst before she took another step. I must find a well, she said. But how am I to avoid the Capital Guard?
There was a girl in the bazaar; the young woman asked her, "Do you have any water?" The little girl ran off and before long the young woman had to run away from the girl's mother, who screamed every unthinkable curse on her white complexion. The young woman's heart thundered; she grew desperate. In a few more minutes she would collapse and no one would help her, or she would be spotted by a Capital Guard, and that would be the end of her. As a last resort she searched for the alleys, but was so lost in the throng that she couldn't escape.
Suddenly a rough hand seized the back of her collar. "Help--!" she cried out, but the attacker violently jerked her back into his sturdy legs. Disgruntled pedestrians cursed the brute, whose grip kept her completely restrained more out of fear than strength. She whimpered.
"Satis! Take a look!" the attacker shouted. "Hey! Shut up you," he snapped at her.
The young woman squeezed her eyes in terror, while Alexander waved at Satis, who pushed past people and stumbled forward, out of breath. "What is it?" he panted, leaning over on his knees.
"Look what we have here!" Alexander said with amusement. "A little albino."
As the young woman expected from a typical Egyptian, Satis' face contorted in disgust and he raised his shawl to his face as though to protect himself from something contagious. "Revolting…"
But his Greek friend didn't have the same cultural aversion to her cursed kind. Alexander cuffed her collar with one fist and with the free hand jerked her bare forearm up. He noted the tiny brand on the young woman's transparent white skin, denoting her enslaved status. Satis took a precautionary step back, but Alexander noted, "A runaway, it seems. She's a specimen worth noting.... Let's haul her in."
"Are you MAD?!" Satis screamed.
"She looks okay to me," Alexander said.
"An albino? It is a cursed thing here. Whoever bought it must have been a starving peasant, because nobody wants to incur that kind of misfortune upon oneself. I'd rather drown myself than touch that thing. Leave it alone."
Alexander grew angry; they had been searching for hours in the heat and mosquitoes. He was not about to drop the young woman now. "If she is cursed, as you say, she is more likely to have an evil Ka," he said crossly.
"We don't even know how to prove that yet!" Satis yelled. "Have you ever extracted a Ka?"
Alexander raised his fist. "If I may remind you--!"
"Shut up!"
"IT WAS YOUR DAMN IDEA!"
An old woman pushed against Satis's shoulders and made her way through the crowd. "Watch where you're going! You're blocking everyone!"
"Sorry," the men apologized. Alexander looked around; for a minute he thought the young woman had run away, but she had merely fainted. He snapped at Satis to hand over his water pouch, which Satis grudgingly surrendered, and Alexander helped her drink water.
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Chapter Three
The butcher Sobek had lived in the capital all his life, never venturing more than a few kilometres outside the capital. His forefathers had lived in Memphis for generations, as butchers, born with a meat cleaver and buried with a meat cleaver. He had a business less than half a kilometre from the palace's shadow, a seventeen-year-old wife, three sons, one daughter, a few Hebrew slaves, and a little profit from his exchange with some merchants he knew.
And it was this seemingly ordinary financial agreement that condemned him.
"Please!" Sobek through himself at the judge, his shackles quaking. It was a spectacle in the courtroom. "I beg of you," he pleaded. "P-p-please--I did not know they were stealing from the Royal Comptroller's house--please--I did not know I was helping them!"
The magistrate flicked his hand lazily. "Guilty as charged. I sentence you to death. Guards--take this emotional wreck from my sight, immediately." The Court Guards dragged Sobek away, to the dungeons--not the courtyard where he would be roped and hung. Might I be spared? He hoped nervously. The led him through a complicated network of tunnels, rather like streets. Sobek pleaded with the guards to free him. They told him to shut up. He said he had a gold chain under his tunic; this time one of the guards knocked his head into the dungeon wall. They half dragged the disoriented butcher in a small, very dark chamber. Sobek barely made out a hazy figure standing above him, as he would soon be aware of the excruciating pain they applied to his body: mercilessly he felt a single force that broke his bones, peeled his skin away, slashed his face, seared the soles of his feet. The chamber magnified his screams, which escalated to blood-curdling decibels. Minutes passed, and there was nothing but pain; Sobek couldn't even want for paradise as he died.
Set wiped the blood from his sandals, surveying the still-twitching corpse with irritation. The guards waited for the High Priests say so before disposing of the body, but Set merely waved his hand dismissively and they understood this as an order. The dead man's Ka was never projected, therefore, he was an innocent.
"Bring in the next one after you've disposed of that," Set ordered. "And a decent specimen this time!"
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Stay tuned...