XVII. The Bracelet of Anubis

Mathayus stared down at the man lying on a pallet; nearby, a pair of bearers were trying to blend into the walls. Thoth himself could learn a few things from Philos, the king thought. The old man's lack of belief in the spells he forged for Menes doesn't seem to have mattered.

A death mask returned the king's stare. The man's face had withered to a skull, but his eyes still held something of the guile that had been behind the death of Mathayus' son. Anakronos of Ethiopia, not strong enough to take in battle everything he desired for his own, had made a pact of deceit with an untried king. His greed, though, had done him in. Once almost true black, the stricken man's skin had faded to a sickly gray. The bulk of muscle had melted away, leaving flesh hanging limply from bones.

I wonder, and Mathayus' heart clenched around the thought, what that prophecy would have to say about this. What Cassandra would say.

Helpless, hopeless--the plague of Nubia and Upper Egypt was now reduced to a drooling invalid. There was something deeply unfair, the king reflected, about the entire situation.

"You had my son and heir murdered," Mathayus growled. "And now you expect mercy?"

The Ethiopian glared back mutely, too wasted even to speak.

Drawing his sword, the king went to one knee beside Anakronos. He rapped the blade against the stolen bracelet locked around his enemy's wrist; the jackal-headed scorpion chimed at the contact. "You like gold, don't you?"

Anakronos closed his eyes and turned his face away.

* * *

Narmer, the god and king of the city of Thebes, was in his gardens when Cassandra and Arpid were brought into his presence. Arpid knelt at once, but the sorceress saw nothing divine in Narmer; he was an old man with a stooped back, gray stubbling his shaven head.

Seated on a pair of gold-plated benches were Isis and Nephthys. Isis glared at Cassandra, but Nephthys refused to meet the sorceress' eyes.

"What am I doing here?" Cassandra asked curtly.

"Have I delayed you on some journey?" Narmer replied with the ghost of a smile. "Was Thebes not your destination?"

Cassandra glanced sharply at Arpid, who gave a quavering smile up at her, then stood. She looked at Isis and Nephthys, who'd also risen to their feet. Nephthys wore a venomous expression. "What? Since when--" Her voice trailed off; she backed up, but the guards were behind her. Glaring at the thief again, she rasped, "How long...?"

"My lady," Arpid pled, "please. Listen."

"How long?"

"Since that day in the throne room. When he..."

"When he took me," Cassandra finished. Her shoulders slumped; she suddenly felt much smaller.

"I am your loyal servant, my lady sorceress."

"Yes," she whispered. "I can see that. So loyal that you made an alliance with Mathayus' enemy."

Narmer motioned Isis and Nephthys to be seated again, then frowned. "The only enemy of the Scorpion King is himself."

Cassandra met his steady gaze, then nodded. "Very well."

Gesturing toward the Nubian sisters, the Theban king said, "Isis will return to her country to rule as my vassal. Nephthys will remain here, joining my household. It has been many years since my great wife died. I have missed the advice of a queen."

The sorceress blinked. "...Your vassal?"

"Nubia will be freed from her Ethiopian aggressors and put under the protection of the gods of the two lands." Narmer's enigmatic smile returned. "And you, my dear sorceress, will travel north with my daughter, where she will be wed to the prince of Ineb Hedj. Egypt is to be united against the threat of the Scorpion."

Nephthys jumped to her feet again. "No! You swore! You swore to me that she would be punished for her part in Balthazar's death!" Her face twisted in a hateful grimace. Her sister tried to restrain her, but Nephthys tore out of Isis' grasp and barreled across the courtyard toward Cassandra.

All the sorceress saw was a pale blur moving in front of her. The girl was slim and pale, with black hair under a light veil. She fetched a startled Nephthys several slaps across the face.

"Are you quite finished, Nephthys?" Narmer snapped. The Nubian warrior woman backed down, rubbing her cheek. Then the king smiled at the pale girl. "My daughter, the princess Ahawetsebwet."

Ahawetsebwet turned to greet Cassandra. Her face was like alabaster, dark eyes framed with kohl and malachite. "Gods," Cassandra breathed. "You look just like her..."

"Just like whom?" the princess asked.

"A... a vision." The sorceress shook her head. "It's not important."

Clearing his throat, Narmer continued. "As a wedding gift, the judgment of the sorceress' actions will be left to the prince--the future king of all Egypt."

"And when am I to be wed, Father?"

"In the winter, my dear, just before the inundation."

"Good," Ahawetsebwet agreed. "An auspicious time for a--"

"Winter?" Cassandra snapped unthinkingly. "But by then I'll be..." She trailed off.

King Narmer smiled his enigmatic smile again. "By then you will be showing, I believe, very much so. Oh, I have had wives enough," he laughed dryly, "and many sons and daughters. I knew your condition as soon as I saw you."

"Son of a motherless goat," Arpid swore softly, glancing back and forth between Narmer and Cassandra.

"You see, Nephthys," Narmer said, "she will be justly and rightly judged for her actions."

But by Nephthys' seething expression, she didn't see. Instead she slumped against her sister, who, whispering softly, led her to her feet and out of the garden. Cassandra stared after them, her mind in a whirl.

* * *

Mathayus leaned down close to Anakronos, close enough that he could smell the Ethiopian's rotting breath. "You want to live?"

Anakronos wheezed something that could have been yes.

"I could help you. Despite everything you've done to me, I could help you." Mathayus leaned closer still, whispering in the dying man's ear. "Do you swear by all your gods to do as I say?"

The wheezing grew more pronounced. One of the bearers said in a terrified squeak, "He--he agrees, lord, he agrees!"

Standing up again, Mathayus called for his scribe. Nakhtmin trotted in with his tools--papyrus sheets, writing stone, ink, and stylus--and took a seat on the floor, crosslegged.

The king began to pace. "Anakronos agrees to these terms: His lands in Ethiopia, Kush, and the Sudan now belong to the banner of the Scorpion. They will henceforth provide a yearly tribute, enforced by my armies if needed. All able men old enough to swing a sword will do so in my service for a span of no less than ten years. Anakronos himself," and here Mathayus stared down at the Ethiopian, "agrees to submit himself to the only recourse that could possibly save his life."

He waited long enough for Nakhtmin to complete the document. Then, with his thumb twitching repeatedly over the blade of his scimitar, Mathayus stopped mid-pace, turned toward Anakronos, and swung. Finally Anakronos cried out, as his lower arm--bracelet still attached--spun wildly away across the floor. The two terrified bearers huddled closer against the wall, their eyes following the gruesome thing as it slid to a stop.

The Anubis bracelet snapped open.

"Now we see," Mathayus said, wiping his blade on his belt sash before seating himself on his throne.

"My lord?" Nakhtmin quavered. "See... what?"

Anakronos writhed in silent pain as the pool of blood from his severed arm steadily widened.

"Whether removing the bracelet will save his life."