The Price of Forgiveness
Mahaad, the bearer of the Millennium Ring, tore his eyes from the neat hieratic script of the letter in his hand. He sat on the edge of his bed in his private chamber. He set the letter on the bed beside him. The contents seared his soul as if carved with a white-hot knife into his flesh. He owed his Pharaoh an impossible sum of money.
To make matters even worse, the Tomb Robber had defiled the former king's tomb—condemning him for all eternity. If I had been more competent, Mahaad thought, the former king wouldn't have needed to sacrifice his ba and… He trailed off, an involuntary chill coursed through his body.
His Pharaoh's father was gone, never to return.
As if he had been eaten by the Devourer.
Mahaad's heart started pounding and he wiped his sweaty palms on his bed sheets, not wanting to dirty his finely pleated robes. The weight of the Millennium Ring felt unbearable. He had the sudden impulse to fling it across the room, but shuddered when his fingers made contact with the cool metal.
He knew what must be done even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.
He retrieved his headdress from the bedside table and put it on, its familiar weight providing no comfort tonight. His blue eyes, drawn to the letter. He picked it up slowly, his eyes falling to the broken red seal, that of the royal treasury, that he knew all too well, even in the dim flickering lamp light. Mahaad outranked him.
Mahaad closed his eyes and drew on his heka. The letter in his hand burst into orange flames, that Mahaad watched until they turned to ash. He let the warm ash fall through his fingers to the floor. He wiped his hands on a linen towel that lay on the table. He sighed heavily and set out for his destination.
He left his chambers, the cool night air felt good against his skin. The palace was quiet, now the earlier activity stilled. As he made his way through the courtyard, he paused as he drew closer to the fig tree. The two small scars on his arm where the serpent's fangs pierced his skin, prickled uncomfortably. He absently rubbed them and a faint smile drew his lips upward.
He was grateful for the absence of other people. He especially couldn't handle his apprentice, Mana's exuberance at the moment. He slowly crossed the rest of the courtyard. A pair of guards, snapped to attention, a flicker of surprise evident in their eyes, gone as quickly as it came. It was not their place to question the actions of the Vizier of Upper Egypt, the second most powerful man in the kingdom.
They lowered their eyes respectfully, "Master Mahaad," they greeted in unison.
Mahaad nodded in acknowledgement as he passed them, his robes rustling softly in the breeze.
He made his way to the Pharaoh's chamber. Other guards saluted him, but he simply nodded to them as well. His eyes troubled, his thoughts elsewhere. He memorized the route to the king's chambers eons ago. His feet carried him there of their own accord.
The pair of guards posted outside his king's bedchamber had been selected by Mahaad himself. They saluted him like the others had before them.
"Go see if our king will speak with me," Mahaad spoke. They were his first words since he had read the letter. One guard inclined his head and knocked. Another guard opened the door slightly and guard conveyed Mahaad's request. The other guard nodded and disappeared, to relay his message.
After an agonizing wait that couldn't have been more than a minute, the second guard returned, and opened the door wider. Mahaad nodded and entered the room, the guard shutting the door behind him.
In the moonlight streaming in through the balcony, Mahaad could see his king's silhouette, his back toward him. Mahaad quietly crossed the room. Now that his king knew he was here, he mustn't keep him waiting.
Mahaad barely breathed as he approached his king, stepping over the threshold of the balcony before sinking into a low bow, closing his eyes in deference. "My Pharaoh," Mahaad whispered.
"Leave us," the Pharaoh ordered in an even tone.
Without a word the guards inside the room moved to join the ones in the hallway, shutting the door behind them.
"Mahaad," the Pharaoh acknowledged. Under normal circumstances Mahaad would have raised his head, opening his eyes and waiting for the Pharaoh to raise him. This time; however, he remained still.
"I've been expecting you. If you had kept me waiting until dawn, I would have sent the guard to drag you here in chains."
A cold ball of dread filled the pit of his stomach. Mahaad swallowed.
"You personally owe me 10,000 gold deben, allowed a tomb robber to defile your former king's final resting place, and my father to die the second death!" The Pharaoh shouted.
Mahaad winced as the rustle of the Pharaoh's clothing indicated he had turned around to face him. He felt the cold, furious gaze bore into his back.
"You, all your kin, and everything you possess will be sold to pay off the debt. And once the debt has finally been paid, you will die the second death."
Mahaad's stomach dropped as this revelation hit him.
"Guards, get this filthy slave out of my sight!"
Panic possessed Mahaad as he threw himself at his Pharaoh's feet. He only had one hope left.
"My Master Pharaoh, I bow myself before the king, my lord, seven times, seven times! I am the dust beneath your feet. You are the sun that gives me life. Please, your slave begs for more time, and he will pay you all!"
The Pharaoh laughed bitterly. Both men knew the sum was impossible to pay back, even in many lifetimes. 164,383 years is a long, long time. His former king's death an impossible debt to satisfy.
The guards opened the door and within seconds they hauled the disgraced priest to his feet and clamped heavy metal chains on his wrists and ankles.
"Halt!"
The guards froze.
Mahaad didn't dare raise his head from the ground. His body trembled as he crawled blindly toward his king, who allowed him to approach saying nothing. The guards breathed heavily behind him.
Mahaad kissed the ground at his Master's feet. Tears blurring his vision of the fine stonework beneath him.
He gasped in surprise as he felt the Pharaoh's foot press on his back. He submitted to the Pharaoh's will and fully prostrated himself on the ground, before his king, the living Horus.
After a minute, the pressure subsided as the Pharaoh removed his foot.
"Rise," he commanded.
Trembling Mahaad scrambled to obey, his face streaked with tears, kohl running down his cheeks.
"Mahaad, I will have compassion on you. Your debt is forgiven."
Mahaad reeled back in shock. "My Pharaoh!" Mahaad didn't dare to believe he might have heard correctly.
"You heard me. You are forgiven." Although he dared not look at his king's face, he heard a slight smile in his voice.
Mahaad threw himself at the ground once more and began a series of forty-nine prostrations. His Pharaoh graciously allowed Mahaad to complete all of them.
Once he had finished, the Pharaoh knelt on the cold stone ground beside his servant. He gently lifted Mahaad's head with a hooked finger, forcing Mahaad to meet his gaze. The Pharaoh had tears of his own, running down his face, smearing his kohl. Despite the late hour, he wore his royal robes, that marked his status as the Son of Ra, the semi-divine ruler of Egypt.
"Remember this day," the Pharaoh commanded.
"Yes, my Pharaoh, Lord of the Two Lands." The Pharaoh smiled as he released his finger. Mahaad held his gaze and smiled in return.
Author's Notes: I don't own it. I drew inspiration when I read Christ's parable of the Unmerciful Servant in the Bible. Reviews are appreciated!