3 Neff #2
“Guard!” Meryamun growled.
One of the guards strode past the cowering young woman to the dais where Neff and the king sat beneath a blue canopy.
“Take this useless creature and beat the pretty off her.”
“Yes, my king.”
Neff’s pulse began to race. It wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed how quickly Meryamun’s temper could flare, nor how devastating the consequences could be for anyone in its path. Do something, she told herself.
Taking a deep breath, Neff laid a hand on the king’s arm.
Meryamun’s body stilled, and his head tilted toward her.
“There are so few servants left in the kitchens,” she said. “It would be a shame to lose another—clumsy as she might be. I’m sure she won’t be so careless again, my king.”
Meryamun sighed. “I suppose you are right.” He nodded toward the guard, who was in the process of dragging the poor maidservant from the throne room.
“Let her get back to work,” he called out. “I want my meal on time.”
The guard, who didn’t seem to care one way or the other, dropped the young woman like a sack of onions and returned to his post. The maidservant, her eyes blurry with tears, scurried out without another word.
Neff sagged with relief. She’d begun to learn, through trial and error, that Meryamun’s anger could vanish as quickly as it came, if given the proper direction.
Another bit of her father’s wisdom came to mind.
One time, when a shipment of papyrus arrived damaged, instead of tossing out the stained, poor-quality scrolls, her father diluted some ink, altered his handwriting, and advertised the resulting scrolls as “artifacts from an ancient temple” for double the standard price.
After they sold the last one, he’d said, “Remember, my girl, everything that happens, good or bad, is an opportunity to get what you want.”
Neff saw an opportunity.
“My king,” she said. “Perhaps it’s time to add more servants to the palace staff. The kitchen isn’t the only place that could use more hands. More attendants, messengers, and litter bearers would be useful as well. I’m sure you yourself probably require more—”
“Hands?” Meryamun said into his wine as he sipped it. He glanced wickedly at her from the corner of his eye.
Neff blushed.
Meryamun drained his cup and sighed. “It’s true. I’ve been so caught up in bureaucracy I haven’t spared a thought for the administration of the palace. I’ll get good old Sabni to put his mind to—”
“Sabni will be busy with the scribes,” Neff broke in. “Perhaps you and I could go into the city and handpick the servants ourselves. We could make an announcement, and those interested could come see us to apply.”
Meryamun scoffed. “That is highly unusual. The king, out in the streets?”
“Ah, but that’s exactly why we should do it. Your father rarely completed the Shemsu Hor—it would be the first time many Khetarans actually saw the pharaoh with their own eyes. We’d get the staff we need and further endear you to the people, all in one afternoon.”
“It isn’t a bad idea. And you would help me choose, using the wisdom of the gods?”
Neff bowed her head. “Of course. Everything I do, I do in your service.”
She sent a silent prayer to Bast. Let him say yes!
The fact was, she couldn’t disrupt Meryamun’s plans alone.
If she could exert some influence on who entered the royal service, perhaps she might begin to build a coalition of allies within the palace.
Commoners who could be convinced to help her take down the king.
The people she chose would surely be more amenable to such a plan than servants hired by the vizier.
Meryamun considered and said, “As you wish, Nefermaat. My head guard will arrange it. Maybe then it won’t be so difficult to get a drink around here.”
Neff sent her thanks to Bast—and her father—and smiled.
***
“Nefermaat?”
Neff stopped outside her chambers and turned to see who’d called her name.
Queen Bintanath stood in the corridor, wavering like a reed in the wind.
She wore a simple white kalasiris and yellow mourning cloak.
Her only ornament was an obsidian vulture collar, its black beaded wings wrapped around her bony shoulders.
Neff had overheard some of the servants say that the queen had undergone a sudden change since her husband’s death—that overnight, she had transformed from an imperious and demanding force to a ghost. A mutu that haunted the palace halls.
“That’s your name, isn’t it?” the queen asked.
Neff crossed her hands in a sign of respect. “It is, my queen. We met when I first arrived at the palace.”
“You’re a seer.”
“Yes, my queen.”
Queen Bintanath looked at her intently, as if she were grappling with a decision, before saying, “You will come to my quarters when your schedule allows. I wish to use your skills.” And with a swirl of yellow, she turned back the way she had come.
Neff kept her composure until she was safely inside her chambers, the curtain pulled shut over the doorway. She leaned against the stone wall and covered her face with her hands.
I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this…
Maintaining a close relationship with Meryamun was already hard work. Now she had to worry about the queen mother too? Not to mention Master Montuhotep, who was probably scheming away at the temple, planning his revenge on Neff for usurping his position at the king’s side.
The moment she was alone, the dam holding back all her feelings burst, flooding her with fear, despair, and worst of all, breathtaking loneliness.
It had been frightening enough at the Temple of Amun, surrounded by strangers and strangeness, but there she’d had Kenna.
The young prince had been a bulwark against the crushing isolation.
At the palace she had no one. No one to talk to, no one to guide her, no one to protect her from the multifarious dangers lurking around every corner.
Something soft brushed against her ankles.
A black-striped cat stared up at her with golden eyes.
“Maiow,” the cat said.
Neff’s heart warmed.
Well, almost no one.
At first, Neff assumed the cat was only visiting, but after a day or two, it had become clear that she had come to stay. Neff was delighted to have the company and had arranged a pillow and bowl of fresh water for her new friend near the window to make her feel at home.
“Hello in peace, Cat,” Neff said, kneeling to stroke her. The cat was old and had probably lived at the palace longer than Neff had been alive, so naming her felt presumptuous. In the end, Neff thought it best to simply keep calling her “Cat.”
The cat arched her back and rubbed her face against Neff’s leg.
“I’m very glad to see you. Oh! Did we get another delivery?”
Neff hurried over to the table in the center of the room, where dozens of scrolls and oddments lay arranged in neat piles.
They were all supplies the Heka priests had brought for her, at the king’s command.
A new batch of items had arrived every day since her initial request to learn the secret art of magic.
She got the sense the priests were loath to relinquish their monopoly on such knowledge, so were releasing it in a trickle instead of a gush.
Perhaps they hoped the king might change his mind—though Neff would ensure that he wouldn’t.
That day’s delivery was particularly interesting. There was a small ibis figurine—an animal sacred to Thoth, the god of writing, wisdom, and magic—which was a perfect focus object for certain spells.
How funny that I saw one perched on the garden wall this morning! she thought.
There was also a very old figurine of a woman holding a double-headed snake staff, which she found fascinating, though she wasn’t sure of its purpose. Finally, there was a twine-wrapped bundle of papyri that included a variety of spells and instructions on the application of heka.
Neff picked up the bundle, intending to bring it to the window to read while enjoying the tray of food that had been left for her midday meal, when something slipped out and dropped to the floor.
She bent to retrieve the dark-colored scroll, which looked older than the others. Instead of the usual white clay seal, the dark scroll’s seal was black.
Could they have included this by accident? Neff wondered.
She carried the scroll to the window, ate four grapes in quick succession, then gently pried open the seal.
The cat leaped onto the sill to join her, sniffing at the food before delicately stealing a chunk of roast duck for herself.
Neff unrolled the papyrus, secured the four corners with smooth stones, and began to study it.
Although she was still learning to read the gods’ words, she knew at once that the scroll was part of a larger work and therefore incomplete.
Some text was written in red ink—those words, she’d learned, were instructions to the priest on how to properly cast the spell—and the rest was written in black.
That portion was the spell itself. All heka was achieved through a combination of object, word, and action; a priest needed all three for the magic to work.
“‘A spell to summon Medjed,’” Neff read from the heading. She looked up at the cat, who was eyeing the plate of cheese. “What’s a Medjed?”
The explanation was probably on another scroll. A scroll I don’t have, Neff thought, after a cursory glance through the other papyri. Her curiosity piqued, she read on.
The instructions were as follows: Take four ostrich feathers and burn them in a green vessel. Turn the bowl three times eastward and one time westward while you speak the words. When you have finished speaking, blow the ashes into the air.
Neff furrowed her brow. She’d learned that burning an object reduced it to its essence, and applying breath had one of two purposes: either to dispel something, like a demon or disease, or to give life. She had the feeling this summoning spell intended the latter.
She didn’t understand the significance of turning the bowl. She knew that the living world was to the east—which was why all Khetaran cities were built on the east side of the river—and the Land of the Dead was in the west. But how did that affect the magic?
She read on.
Ho, Medjed! the spell said. You of the House of the Lord of Silence! I call to thee, O smiter! O guardian of the lost! I call you to my side. Protect me with your terrible eyes that see yet are unseen. Come to me, and punish those who would do me harm!
Thoughtful, Neff turned to eat her meal before the cat took it all for herself. Tearing the fragrant flatbread into pieces, she ate them one by one with the squeaky white cheese, then washed it all down with sweet beer.
Medjed must be a minor deity. I could certainly use a guardian, especially a magical one. No, she couldn’t risk it. It was too dangerous to attempt such a spell without reading the supporting text.
But what if the supporting text doesn’t exist? Or the Heka priests won’t let me see it? They probably didn’t even intend to share this one!
She looked at the engraved bowl of grapes.
A green vessel.
Neff glanced across the room, where a tall vase sat in the corner, filled with gifts Meryamun had offered her. “To honor your name, Nefermaat,” he’d said.
Written in the gods’ words, her name was made up of two symbols. A heart and an ostrich feather.
Neff counted the ostrich feathers in the vase. There were seven.
The last grape slipped through her fingers and rolled across the windowsill. The cat batted it to the floor.
I have everything I need to cast the spell, Neff thought in disbelief. It’s all right here.
Perhaps it was meant to be.
“Well, what do you think, Cat? Shall we summon a god?”
***
It didn’t take long for Neff to assemble the items. She set the bowl with the four ostrich feathers on the floor by the window and brought a lit candle to stand beside it, along with the spell scroll.
She held the engraved hippopotamus tusk in her right hand.
The wand, something every Heka priest needed in their tool kit, served to focus her power.
Neff listened for any sound outside her chamber. It wouldn’t do to be interrupted while attempting to cast the spell.
The corridor was silent.
Am I really doing this? It was awfully reckless—but then again, her situation was desperate. Besides, it might not work. Even some of the simple spells she’d attempted had no effect, and this one was obviously much more advanced.
Just try, she told herself. What’s the worst that could happen?
Kneeling in front of the bowl, Neff quieted her thoughts and picked up the candle.
The cat watched from her pillow, her tail flicking with interest. Neff dipped the flame into the bowl and waited for the feathers to alight.
They began to smolder, then burn. Neff set the candle down and began turning the smoking bowl.
As she did so, she spoke the words, making sure to enunciate each one clearly.
“Ho, Medjed! You of the House of the Lord of Silence!”
Three revolutions to the right—
“Come to me, and punish those who would do me harm!”
And one to the left.
Finally, Neff set down her wand and took the bowl of ashes in both hands. She inhaled a deep, deep breath, and blew the ashes toward the open window.
A cloud of black particles billowed into the air and hung there for an instant before the breeze pulled them out and away. Neff watched the cloud dissipate, the bowl still raised to her lips. She waited in anticipation.
Moments passed.
Nothing happened.
Neff sighed and set the bowl down.
She cleaned up the items, rerolling the scroll and setting the green bowl back on the tray with the remnants of her meal.
She moved slowly, heavy with disappointment.
Aside from a couple small victories, her attempts at casting spells had been largely unsuccessful.
She’d been trying to teach herself the art of heka, but clearly the knowledge was meant to be passed down from master to apprentice, much like everything else in the priesthood.
But even with the king’s urging, she knew the Heka priests wouldn’t agree to mentor her.
They’d say they were too busy or would sabotage her education somehow.
She needed help, but aside from the Heka priests, who else in the kingdom had the ability to teach her?
Then she knew.
“Of course! Why didn’t I think of it before?”
Pulling on her sandals, she made for the door. She’d have to hurry if she wanted to get back to the palace in time to join Meryamun for his afternoon audiences. And she’d have to take the long way to avoid being seen.
“I’ll be back, Cat,” she said.
The cat didn’t seem to hear her. She was staring at a space a few feet in front of the window, her pupils wide and dark.
Neff shook her head. Cats are so strange, always looking at things that aren’t there.
Pushing through the curtain, she slipped down the corridor with the wind at her back.