Chapitre XXXVIII. Une maison qui regarde la mer
Fall 1934
I. Jabari Kane
The first Nome was getting more and more like a ghost town. Some buildings were decrepit, others in ruins. Some newer ones emerged from these same remains like a lentil germ planted in an eggshell. All kind of architectural styles intertwined, the neo-Egyptian, with its houses built around the year 1000 imitating the Middle Empire style, was the most common one. Since Heliopolis had been buried under the sands, no one had bothered to renovate nor to come up with a somewhat harmonious urban plan. The buildings built in the main cave stood next to the galleries and rooms carved into the rock itself.
Despite the ruins, despite the motley architecture and scattered remains, the ensemble retained a strange air of magnificence. Gold, amber, and fist-sized gems were encrusted in laces of ochre stone. Precious fabrics hung in front of ancient ornate porches, stirred by subterranean winds. The air smelled of myrrh and frankincense. Magicians came and went, dressed in ancient clothes, coming from all over the earth. Their faces reflected the diversity of humankind.
I met the two not far from the War Room. Menshikov and Korolenko, the leader of the Kievan Nome were talking in a dark alley. What are they even doing here? Menshikov heard my footsteps and turned around. I noticed how thin they were, especially Korolenko. That one looked more dead than alive. It had been ages since I last saw him. He had missed most of the Nome's Assembly those last few years. Is it true then? When Aaron had told me so, I didn't believe it.
Vladimir stopped talking and kept staring at me silently. Though I wasn't easily impressed, those two blue eyes never failed to make me feel uncomfortable. Menshikovs were charmspeakers, as were we.
I remembered at once the little boy playing in the snow alongside his brothers. The little boy and the snake. Then there was the young man, hunting down rogue magicians. Then Russia's new Sem Priest, his hands still drenched in his predecessor's blood. Then the emperor Alexander's discreet shadow parading through the streets of defeated Paris.
After a while, I got the hint and approached him. Korolenko vanished in the shadows. I stood next to him. He was a small man, the top of his head didn't reach my chin.
« You look awful.
– I'm quite aware of that, thank you Lord Kane. »
I knew his Russian accent was actually an illusion, he could speak perfect English whenever it pleased him.
« Maybe you just need a hand.
– From whom? Where were you the day Ungern-Sternberg tried to rise Genghis Khan? Where were your Khopesh? And where was the bloody House?
– Is that why you bowed to the Bolsheviks? They left you no choice right, too many enemies at once.
– Tsars are all the same, red or white. Same goes for the Pharaoh.
– That is what you believe! »
He didn't snap back, instead his features twisted not so much in disgust as in a look of exhaustion.
« It's always the same tired conversation Kane, nothing new.
– Then what it is you want? »
He waved his fingers, and absentmindedly glanced around.
« I was just wondering those last days, what is it that your brother wanted with this odd match ? His own daughter with a Bellini ? Red blood mixing with your pure ancient Ma'at-oriented blood. Though we both know that last part is a half-lie. »
What the hell is going on his mind? This conversation was taking a dangerous turn. I did not have the patience for these mind tricks and preferred to tell him the truth as it was:
« Abdias went mad, toward the end. His behaviour was getting more and more erratic, just like the choices he made.
– That's what you'd want the world to believe, right? He seemed pretty much sane to me, odd as usual, an infamous asshole, we can agree on this, but mad? »
I tensed seized in a fit of anger. He wasn't impressed, nothing ever impressed that one.
« We, ancient families, still wed and breed among ourselves, he continued. But we've stopped our strange blood mixing experimentations long ago. At least we did. Because blood magic and alignment play is dangerously close to the god's path.
– I'm quite aware of that.
– And yet you've married a Mazrui, ancient powerful blood. »
I clenched my fists.
« Oh, right, you'll just play the I loved that woman card. Suit you, another half-lie. We're all telling ourselves the same one.
– Didn't you when you married that girl as well?
– I'd love to see her reaction, being called girl by a man like you, he sighed. I don't suspect you, I know where you stand on these unusual matters. But you're not the only Kane out there. You should watch out for the bad apples.
– What are you suggesting?
– This is from our Chief Lector: kemetic deities on the loose. I'll go around my magicians, see them all one by one. I highly suggest you'd do the same. »
I nodded, I'd got the hint, though it had awaken in me a certain feeling of dread.
« Our ranks are well-behaved. I highly doubt they are hiding among us.
– Oh, really? What about Jelila Kane then? Her father's daughter they say.
– Jelila has always been… difficult.
– Deal with her. Before I will. »
He left me there, quite infuriated, although I couldn't but agree with him. As always. No one's better than him when it comes to getting into people's heads. Those news were quite alarming to say the least. They confirmed the rumours that had been spreading for some years now. If Iskandar asks this, some things must have changed. I'll still check them all. Better safe than sorry. I hurried back to New York. My sister Zaina greeted me inside the mansion.
"The kids? I asked her. Is Julius home yet?
– He shouldn't be long. I think Amos is studying. "
Always so serious. The children were well-behaved, I had to thank the gods for that. Even Julius has mellowed at some point.
Amos was alone in the blue drawing room. The door was wide-open. He was sitting on the ground, modelling some kind of little animal out of clay. I watched his tiny hands kneading the clay, reshaping it. His serious looking face amused me. With a small knife, he attempted to engrave little hieroglyphs in the clay. As he proceeded, some came alive, shining with a warm red light. I backed off, my heart pounding and left as silently as I could.
In the evening I joined my sons, sister and nibbling at the dinner table. Julius had just came back from his days of mission abroad, so all the sits were filled again. As usual, they were waiting for me in silence. I sat, thus signalling to all they could start eating. The boys were strangely quiet for once.
"Amos" I addressed the younger. "Could you draw a hieroglyph for me?"
He looked at me, startled.
"You know how to say "boat", don't you?"
He kept silent.
"Go ahead", I added.
All eyes were turned on him, but he stayed still.
"Have you lost your tongue?"
Finally, he said, slowly: Nothing happened. I opened my eyes wide.
"Come on, I said, try again."
He tried. Nothing happened again.
"Amos, can't you even just bring up a hieroglyph?"
He lowered his face. Julius gave me a frightened look.
"Do it."
I insisted. Finally, Amos said the word and a shining hieroglyph floated above the dinner table. Blue. I breathed better. I was mistaken. Amos was still staring at me, with an insolent angry look.
"What's the matter?" I asked him.
He didn't answer.
"Go to your room", I sighed.
The boy ran away and slammed the door. The other kept quiet and finished eating in silence. After the dinner, Julius came to me, once the girls left. I was in the small drawing room, reading a report. With its leather sofas, and varnished furniture, the room was less imposing than the great hall although it was just as luxurious. He asked with a little voice:
"Father, may I ask you something?
– Of course Julius, please tell me.
– What kind of man was he, my grandfather?"
I hesitated. The boy didn't have to know the details of our strained relationship.
"He was a tough man, a strong magician, I just said. He lived a hard life, made him stark and severe. He was quite hard with us, much harder than I am with you. Your uncle's death destroyed him."
Julius hesitated, obviously he had something to add.
"Go ahead Julius, I encouraged him."
He looked embarrassed, not knowing where to begin.
"It's just, some rumours, something that I've heard.
– Rumours? Where did they come from?
– Doesn't matter. Just, tell me… My great-uncle, Nahum? How did he die? "
A cold shiver ran down my spine, quickly replaced by a growing anger.
"Who told you about him?
– They said that he was sacrificed to someone. That he was killed.
– Lies, I shouted. There are no Setians in our family." I added quickly, to reassure the boy. "Who told you this?"
Julius closed his eyes, conflicted, then admitted:
"Anna Menshikova. There was also a Bellini.
– You're a fool Julius, don't ever believe a word that comes out of a Bellini's mouth, or worse, a Menshikov's. They are murderers, thieves and chaos' worshipers.
– But she said…
– Whatever she said, it was to frighten you, or trouble you. And it obviously worked. Horus has always been the sole protector of Narmer's house, that's all you need to know."
He bowed down his head, in confusion.
"You did a good job, I thanked him. This Setian nest in the Balkans is getting more and more worrisome. But we'll take care of it another time. Go have some rest."
But he stayed and asked again:
"Is our uncle Thomas a necromancer?
– He is.
– How come we never mention it?
– Listen Julius, he used to work for the First Nome over the last Century. Most things he did there are classified."
How can I ever explain you…?
"You just… Not everything is worth knowing. Especially at your age. Go now."
At last, he left the room. I sighed, and let myself fall into an armchair by the fire. I'm not sure how much time passed as I watched the logs burn. I blenched hearing the door opening. In the dim silence, I heard some footsteps echoing on the marble floor. Ah, he's here. Those light regular steps belonged to my uncle Sohan's second son, Aaron.
"I thought you were in Chicago.
– Well, I know it's late cousin, but I've just received my orders.
– Going on a hunt? I asked.
– I'm meeting with Nina Alexandrovna at dawn. I thought you should know."
I raised my eyebrows. Aaron hadn't worked with his former partner for years. They used to be the best pair of god-hunters of the Per Ankh the last century. The situation must exceptional.
"Do you? Menshikovs are all around again, so it seems."
Aaron shrugged. God hunters weren't common among our ranks. Aaron was an exception. Our best fighter. Second sons were usually more turbulent and hectic. Redder too. Human patterns follow godly patterns. I chased the thought away. I was a second child myself, and turned out just fine. And so did Aaron. It's all bullshit, the kind of lies Abdias believed in. The kind of lies that brought his downfall.
"Who are you going after?
– The Red Lord, no less."
I straightened on my sit. That's what Menshikov's warning was all about. I didn't envy him, he had so many red magicians at his Nome that it would take him a very long while to check them all.
"So it's true, I whispered. Who knows it?
– Some do. The Sem priests of the 8th, 18th, 25th and 31st Nome certainly do.
– Everything is on the loose it seems."
He shrugged, then sat on the couch. I opened the liquor cabinet, poured some whiskey in two glasses, and handed him one. We drank in silence.
"How are the kids holding up?
– They'll get over it.
– Will they really? He mumbled. "
I looked aside, trying to stay relaxed and swiftly stifled the flood of memories from my former wife that threatened to drown me. Of all my cousins, I always liked Aaron the best. He was almost like a brother to me once. Our view diverged on many subjects, but in the end, he'd always stand by my side. That didn't mean I enjoyed his snarky little remarks.
"Someone should contact Jelila, I said.
– Tell her what? She's the one who disgraced herself and left this house. That should serve her a lesson."
It's been two years already.
"She's family, I answered. I'm concerned for her safety.
– You've always been softer with girls, he noticed."
She used to be sweet and obedient. I should have been wary the day she decided to become a spellcaster, instead of following the usual Sunu path. It was the beginning of a long rebellion. And I have another one like that, here at home. I should watch him more closely. Iskandar's doing for sure. I wouldn't be surprised if he had something to do with Abdias' demise as well.
"The child's a boy, I said Aaron.
– One more reason not to let her come back. Bastards have always been a threat to legitimate heirs."
I thought of my own kids. He's right, I should be stricter.
"I'll still write to her. What's so funny?
– On this very point, Menshikov and you are very much alike."
He didn't let me retort, but put his glass down, slightly bowed his head and left. I turned and watched his long thin shadow slowly melting away in the Great Hall's darkness.
II. Julius Kane
I left the little drawing room not entirely satisfied with my father's answers. I had to cross the great room, to get to the marble staircase. I crossed it quickly, all this great empty space never failed to make me feel uncomfortable. Some giant logs were burning in the fireplace, the fire was throwing red shards on the large snakeskin on the ground. It was one of the oldest trophies here, my namesake had killed it few years after my father's birth. When we were younger Amos and I would pretend we were hunting it. The large statue of Thoth at the other end of the room formed a dark mass that hid the entrance from my sight. No escape, I thought.
I passed rows and rows of empty corridors. When my grand-father was alive, those rooms used to host dozen of magicians. It's so quiet here. Always will now. I remembered once they were shouts, and laughs. We used to play and run and scream with Amos and Noam, with the girls too. Now, the slightest burst of voice would earn us a scolding from father. I hate this place, I realized. It was the first time I'd say it.
On the second floor, I passed by Amos' room that was next to mine, hesitated, and opened the door. He was sitting on the bed, legs against his chest, staring at the opposite wall. I sat by him.
"Why is he like that? He asked me after a time.
– Amos, you know he hasn't been quite himself since mother died, I tried to explain.
– He's nice to you", sniffed my baby brother. "But he's mad at me since I started studying statuary. He has barely spoken to me since I came home, and it's been a month."
I didn't know what to say. Father had been hard with Amos, considering he was only ten. I took him in my arms and he started growling at me.
"Do you know who I've met in Sarajevo?" I told him to lighten his mood. "Alice from Montmartre."
He widened his eyes.
"You mean the singer? How is that possible?
– She's friend with the Head of Nome, apparently. You look tired. Don't you sleep? "
He didn't answer.
"How was Cairo?
– Fine." He said, his teeth clenched.
I knew I won't get more from him, so I started telling him about my time spent abroad.
"You know the head of Nome was my teacher when I was ten, in elemental magic.
– Seriously?"
The amazing story of my adventures in Yugoslavia had a positive effect on Amos. He cheered up, and even started to laugh.
"But like, everything is so very weird in these two Nomes. There is only one old guy at the Belgrade Nome, and he is about a thousand years old, so he doesn't give a damn about everything, and Desjardins is basically ruling his Nome in his stead. Then there is this Slavic half-god hanging out in Sarajevo, who has the keys to the headquarters, and is basically helping with everything although he isn't even Egyptian. Everyone was either speaking Serbo-Croatian, French or Italian, I became quickly extremely paranoid about term laughing at me. Also Bellini was at some point Anna Menshikova's student, and they kept making jokes about everyone in the Per Ankh, and trying to burn some stuff. Also there was a lot of cheese magic involved. But I mean, I was with four elementalists, it's the worst possible thing ever. We were ambushed by zombies, and they made some kind of pit with lava, like, the guy is attacking us with dead men, they answer with a volcano."
– Sounds like fun people.
– Poor dad, it's basically all his political enemies hanging out together with who knows who. Also, Giacomo Bellini gave me sword lessons.
– I know him. I don't like him.
– What? "
He didn't answered. Then he muttered.
"Mom used to say that all red magicians are wicked. But I suppose that was a lie as well.
– Amos, you shouldn't… you shouldn't speak of mom like that.
– Why not?
– Because… Well, you just shouldn't."
He resumed staring at the wall. I put my arm around his shoulders, this time he didn't stir.
"Can I sleep with you tonight? He asked. "
I hesitated. I knew dad didn't like it, but Amos liked to sleep in my bed ever since, well since you know… Actually he hated sleeping alone. I liked having him near. Then, after all, maybe dad wasn't wrong. He'll need to toughen up, the world out there is not kind, he'd told us. He's only ten, a voice in me said, but, as always, I could only agree with Father's voice.
Before I could figure out what to say, I heard the wooden floor cracking.
"Noam, stop dropping ears, I know you're there."
My little cousin came in running.
"Amos is a chicken!
– Shut up, he scowled."
I watched them fight for a minute. My first cousins were living half of the year with us. Their mother was my father's only sister and she had always been a second mother for Amos and me. Their father was the former head of the Mexico Nome. They lived there the rest of the year, or studied in Cairo.
Actually, remembering everything that had happened, I felt better. Despite everything, this mission would stay a good memory for me. I felt… strangely free and careless. I remembered the time when I was Amos' age and I was briefly a student of Desjardins. At the time, I had been living alone in Cairo for four years. The first lesson, he had arrived five minutes late, books under his arms. The class was happily shouting and throwing things in the air. Someone had written on the black board "Champolion – mucky blood". He had just rolled his eyes, sat at the desk, asked a boy to go and clean the board.
"It has got two "l". Champollion, he added. Just correct it before you wipe it. At least you will have learned one thing today. By the way, if someone messes up with the "s" in my name, I too will butcher his name until the end of the year."
Then he took roll. The first name on the list was that of Yasmine Abdi. Someone laughed.
"What's funny?" he had asked my best friend and distant cousin Harry Keane.
"It's just a very common name, the kid answered.
– What's yours?" he said.
Harry told him. Names. Everything in this place is about them. Families, ren, divine words, everything… Desjardins laughed and told him some joke about the Keane. I don't remember the exact terms but the whole class laughed.
"Maybe if we are quite finished we can start the lesson."
Then he stopped. Our lessons were taught in Alexandrian Greek.
"Who understands Greek?" he asked.
Only one half of the students raised their hands.
"And who speaks Arabic?"
All hands were raised except two.
"Well, I shall teach this class in Arabic if that's so".
Lessons weren't so fun. Elemental magic seemed dull to me. I was already training to be a combat magician. But that was until one day, when we had practical exercises. We were to manipulate dirt without touching it to form a kind of column, or a sculpture for the best of us. Desjardins came to my desk and watched my failed attempts to get some kind of vertical structure.
"What is wrong with your dirt Kane? It looks like a dead whale on a fallen mountain."
He wasn't wrong. I hated earth magic.
"I can't blame you actually, he suddenly said, it's a quite a stupid exercise, very boring."
I looked at him, surprised, but he seemed lost in his thoughts.
"Yes, actually, all of this is pretty useless. Everyone stop what you're doing! We are going on a school trip. Kane, watch the class."
He had left and come back with the Indian statuary teacher.
"Let's go dig some tunnels".
We had all looked at each other in disbelief, but they took us to an abandoned tunnel, and gathered us in front of the entrance.
"Well, none of you will ever have to make some little earth pillar, however you will definitely need to dig some tunnel to get inside a building, escape a place, find a temple, this kind of… activities. And if you dig any old how, you will end up stuck in a landslide and die stupidly. Half of you are training to become combat magicians, right?"
The half that was speaking Greek, I suddenly realized. The half whose name matters.
"When will we do real earth magic? I had asked him after class.
– What do you mean?
– Plants, trees, go outside."
He'd grinned.
"Are you planning to become an earth elementalist, Julius?
– No, I just want to know how to make trees grow."
It was true. Last time we visited our cousins in Louisiana, I had watched a girl help the mangrove grow. It was one of the wildest things I'd ever seen. Desjardins' smile had widened.
"Well, plant magic is assuredly the best part in earth magic."
I had never actually asked myself what it was I wanted to be, do or study. Everything had been written down for me since my very birth. I would become a combat magician, like our ancestors were, the kings of old blessed by the gods. Someday I would take the lead of our family, eventually of the House of Life. It was all simple and easy. But then life happened. It happened to all of us here, father, mother, brother.
Sometimes I even envied Amos. All right, studying statuary was against our father's will, but he found something at which was his only. I remembered the way he stood up to our father, a little boy of ten and a half. Why did father even agreed? Nor Amos nor the teachers left him a choice. My brother even started a hunger strike; which had undoubtedly immediate results.
It's wrong, I realized, that little children react this way, it's wrong that we know since childhood when a name deserves respect, and when it doesn't. My head began to hurt, so I left those thoughts there and found instant relief.
Did I like combat magic? Well, I didn't hate it. I did enjoy the running, and physical toll. I enjoyed being outside, felling the sun, the wind and the rain. I shrugged, I probably didn't try hard enough. I was a Kane after all, it was all in my blood.
"Do you know where the name comes from?" Father had asked me once long ago.
"It's Irish, right?
– It is. It's an Anglicisation of Cathan: war-like. My father chose it, when he came to England, to honour the gods of war. "
Why Irish? I thought of the mustached man. Slavic gods he said. Well father used to live in England in his youth. Plenty of Irishmen there.
"Do you believe in ghosts?" Asked me Noam.
I jumped. I had been engulfed in my thoughts and forgot about the two.
"I don't know, I've never seen one, I admitted."
Do reanimated corpses count? I thought.
"Yeah because they don't exist, grunted my little brother.
– I've seen one, said Noam, beaming with pride. In Chichén Itzá.
– What were you doing there?
– Grandma took me there! And they have lots of ghosts in Louisiana, Abigail told me.
– Never trust a word from Abigail, I warned him. "
I'm starting to talk like father.
"Anyway, I'm sure my father could have tamed it! Because he was powerful like that! Resumed Noam.
– Yeah, too bad he's dead. "
That's when Noam hit him. Amos hit back, and soon enough, I found myself in the middle of a battleground.
"Are you nuts?"
I yelled once I split them up.
"He's been asking for it for days!
– He's younger than you!
– I'll tell your dad, sniffed Noam.
– Go on, I don't care.
– What is happening again?" Sighed an annoyed voice.
Fortunately, it was just Innaya. She was wearing a white nightgown, and looked like she had just fallen out of bed.
"You're impossible Julius.
– What?
– Everyone was behaving until you came back! You've probably woken up the whole house.
– I didn't do anything!
– Exactly! Come Noam. Let's go to bed, it's late."
She took him by the hand and they left the room. I sighed and turned to my brother:
"You should go to bed as well. It's past midnight."
He looked at his feet and mumbled something. I noticed that no one had thought about cutting his hair.
"What?
– I'm not chicken, he said louder.
– I never said that"
I kissed him on the temple.
"Is it bad if I'm not powerful?" He blurted.
He said that as though he'd been holding that back for weeks. I didn't knew what to answer, so I just stammered something like it's all right. He didn't look convinced though.
And what would dad say about that? After the name lesson, he had lectured me about my responsibilities.
"Nobility is not only about power. A true leader never shows disrespect to anyone. A true leader only fights for the dignity of the weak. In here we are the upper class. Out there, they show no pity for our kin. Never forget it.
– But Harry said…
– Harry is your cousin. He'll make a decent magician, never a great one. You, Julius, are the future of our house. People will expect a great deal from you.
– Letting everyone down, I'd said would be my greatest shame."
