Chapter Twenty
Animals are different from people. Not only in the way they look, but also in the way they look at things. Being an animal and a person at the same time would give you a very different perspective on life.
Ramla smelled trouble. There were no cries of pain or blood spilled. But there was unrest, in the ways that people moved, the tremors in their voices, and above all, the scent of fear.
For some it is like an elixir, giving them life to know that others are deathly afraid. The smell sparks motivation like nothing else can. Wolves on the trail of a wounded deer; the leaders of armies, sensing the unsure demeanor of the opposing generals; but most of all, Falragh the Dark One. For it is he who glorifies in inflicting pain and suffering, inducing strife and fright. To smell fear is his life, for he lives on fear and hurt.
Ever since Ishizu had come to Thebes, things had been different. Ramla did not have to look around the door to know what was going on behind it. Many men, including ones of high positions like the captain of the guard and the chief scribe, were seduced by Ishizu's mysterious, attractive allure. Ramla feared that the Pharaoh might be next. Ishizu might be a peg holding down a thread of the Grand Design, but Ramla would not let her infatuate Atem to the point of control.
During the evening feast two weeks after the completion of the Millennium Item positions, Ramla met Samira in the palace gardens for a chat.
"The Ishtaari girl concerns me," she said in a low voice.
Samira nodded glumly. "Seto is charmed beyond all reason. He seems to think… that she loves him, and no other man, but-"
Ramla made a small noise of disgust. "She has slept with ten different men since she first arrived!" She looked sideways at her sister. "Is Seto…?"
Samira covered her eyes with her hands. "Oh, I don't know… I don't even go into his room anymore. He's changed, Ramla, and it's not for the better."
Putting a comforting arm around her sister's shoulder, Ramla said in a pacifying voice, "Most men are like that, dear sister. Fickle as yeast, and harder to figure out than what's in Cook's duck sauce."
"I don't eat that stuff anymore," groaned Samira, "After I threw up for four hours straight." Ramla chuckled.
"Maybe Seto will come round, once he sees that Ishizu's nothing but a witch and a slut," she said. "You never know."
"You think I could… sort of nudge him in that direction?" asked Samira.
Ramla shrugged. "At your own risk. You don't know how he'll take it." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. "But did you see Ishizu's brother? He's… dreamy…"
"What's his name?"
"Marik, I think. I only saw him once. I was looking for grasshoppers in the courtyard-"
"Ramla!" admonished Samira, wrinkle her nose. "That's nasty!"
"Oh, but grasshoppers are good! They taste all buttery-"
"All right, all right, I get the picture. Keep on with the story, please."
"Fine. I was… uh, foraging for food in the courtyard when I heard him arguing with his sister. He was trying to get her to stay in her own room at night for once. He was worried about her."
"Oh, that's so sweet," breathed Samira.
"Anyway, I hid behind the wall and peeked out. He looks nothing like his sister. He's got purple eyes, just like Atemu, and fair hair. And his voice is so hypnotizing…"
"Just like Ishizu's," said Samira, stiffening with suppressed anger. "They say that's half of how she's so transfixing. Her voice is smoother than the inside of a seashell, and it rises and falls like the waves on the sand."
"Forget about Ishizu, won't you?" chastised Ramla. "She's putting you in a bad state. If you're lonely, I suggest you try Marik."
"What about you? I thought you liked him!"
Ramla smiled mystifyingly. "I already have someone." But no matter how hard Samira tried, Ramla wouldn't tell.
"Off with you, it's getting late," said Ramla. "I have places to go and people to see. Good night, little sister."
Samira gave Ramla a big hug. "Thanks for everything, Ramla. See you around." With a wave, she disappeared behind a pillar and faded from sight and sound.
Seto sat at his desk, reading a spell scroll. He looked up when Samira appeared at his open door. "What do you want?" he asked coldly.
"I need to talk to you."
"I have other thing to be doing. Go away."
"You cannot ignore me, Seto."
"Can, and am." He went back to reading his scroll.
Samira sighed exasperatedly. "It's about Ishizu."
He looked up fast, a little too fast. Samira's heart sank.
"Well, come in then, and shut the door."
She obeyed, and came to stand in front of him. "Ishizu is not who you think she is, Seto. She does not belong to you alone. Other men-"
Rage twisting his face, Seto rose to his feet and lifted his hand to strike her. She met it with her own hand, crackling with blue magic. He growled and stepped back.
Samira pushed on. "Ishizu is a whore. She sleeps with any man who-"
Unexpectedly, Seto grabbed her by the neck and forced her to the bed, applying pressure… forcing the air out of her lungs… strangling… choking…
"You lie, little vixen," he snarled.
She struggled under his weight. "Take care who you call vixen!" she choked out, and fell into a coughing fit. Seto lifted her by her collar, opened the door, and bodily flung her from the room. She landed on her ankle at a funny angle, and felt it give way beneath her. The blood pounded in her head, and she slumped against the pillar, drowning in pain.
And then she heard footsteps… they seemed a world away… a shout… and then gentle arms lifted her up… she was being carried now… her ankle hung limply from her leg, the pain throbbing like a drumbeat.
She was being laid down on a bed… healing salve being put on her ankle, and then bandages… slowly; the pain ebbed away to a tiny sting.
Samira opened her eyes.
She was in a small bedroom with many shelves overflowing with plants: climbing vines, flowers, and miniature trees. Morning sunlight filtered in through the window and spread across the bed.
For a moment she could not remember… her head had been knocked soundly in the fall…
And then the painful memories came rushing back… how Seto had almost killed her… strangled her, and then thrown her against the pillar… he had called her a vixen.
White-hot anger filled her, and she resolved to find Seto and put him to rights. Hanging her feet over the edge of the bed and putting weight on them, she yelped as a stabbing ache shot through her left ankle.
"You won't be walking on that for a while," said a voice from the door.
Samira looked up in surprise.
He strode forward and extended his hand, regarding her with purple eyes. "I'm Marik," he said. "You got pretty banged up last night." He lightly touched Samira's bruised cheek, making her shiver. "I'll go get some more healing salve for that." He left the room for a moment, and then came back with a small jar full of a waxy substance. Gently he brushed some onto her cuts and bruises.
"Thank you," said Samira softly. "But why… I mean, I'm a stranger to you."
Marik shrugged, and stroked her cheek. He was not applying healing salve. "Such beauty should not be marred," he whispered.
Samira turned pink, and her pulse quickened. She looked down at her feet, but Marik tilted her chin back up toward him with his hand. "And what is your name?" he asked.
"Samira," she mumbled, not used to receiving this kind of attention.
"I brought you breakfast, Samira," Marik said, waving his hand at a platter of soft bread, fruit and sweetmeats on the dresser next to the bed.
"Thanks," she said, smiling. Marik smiled back, and the effect made her stomach tie itself in knots. Ramla was right— Marik was very cute, and really nice too.
She ate daintily from the tray as Marik talked to her. He told her how he liked to garden; that explained all of the plants in the room. He told her how he had come with Ishizu to Thebes; how they were orphans, living in a broken village in the desert. The pharaoh's soldiers had come, and captured Ishizu. She had not wanted to come to Thebes, so they put her in shackles, and had beaten Marik an inch from death when he tried to protect her. He had recovered, and followed the soldiers across the desert to the palace.
"And how about you, Samira?" he asked, turning to her. His face became grave. "Why is the High Priest hurting you?" His eyes grew wide. "Was he—trying to… you know…"
Samira shook her head, and gasped in pain. "Careful," cautioned Marik. "The High Priest bruised your neck when he, um…"
Unbidden tears of pain and sadness welled up in Samira's eyes. Why? Why had Seto done this to her? They had been friends… and now Ishizu was tearing them apart… Ishizu was turning Seto into a monster…
She collapsed on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. "Oh, Seto, what have you become?"
And then… the words emanated not from her lips, but from within her, and yet from a thousand years, a thousand centuries away…
A different voice, not her own, spoke. The room was filled with a fiery light, and an illimitable darkness. The teetering balance made Marik's head spin as he heard these words:
His teeth ached, his body shivered and sweated, the world was being tipped sideways… and then he was falling… falling into nothingness… raucous laughter filled his ears, hurting them, destroying them… his vision left, and all he could see was miles and miles of void…
A falcon's cry cut through the darkness like a shooting star through the lightless sky. Hands gripped his; pulling him back upward, away from the void, up towards the light…
Samira was slumped against him, weeping. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her protectively… to keep her safe…
She looked up at him with whirling fear like a flaming wheel reeling in her golden eyes, and whispered, "Vaneth. Vaneth is back."
"Shhh," he murmured, cuddling her, smoothing her hair, wiping away her tears, but try as he might he could not brush away the fear that was gripping his heart like an iron fist. He had felt a terrible evil fill this room… Samira was hurting… she was weak… and this Vaneth, who ever he was, was back, and the whole kingdom was in danger.
But who would listen? Who would listen to the brother of the palace whore, alone in the world except for his plants?
This girl, who he had taken under his wing, who he had healed and looked after, who he had smiled at and laughed with, who he had only known for a few short hours… this girl, with the golden eyes that saw right into his heart, that were filled with tears right now…
She would listen.