Chapter XXXI
XXXI
DEATH, EIDHIN ONCE INSISTED WHILE EXPLAINING THE ddram cyfraith, is our most important horizon.
It matters because we need an end to what we can see.
Without it we would drift, overwhelmed, nothing to orient ourselves against. Without it, we would never be able to focus on what is truly important: that which is in front of us.
That discussion comes to mind again as I watch the pallid stream of ceding, faceless iunctii shuffle through Neter-khertet, all but their eyes wrapped in white cloth, and even that tinted jade by the virulent illumination that seeps from every edge of the surrounding mirrorlike black surfaces.
Duat’s roof sits a thousand feet above, distantly echoing the colour and motion of its captives below.
An eternal, roiling green night sky above the massive western district that houses its dead.
Ahmose and I mimic the shambling crowds. Eyes down, focused on the faint reflection of whoever is in front of us. No talking. Just movement from one place to another as we pretend to the strange, semi-willing slavery of this place.
“Siamun. There’s an Overseer.” The nervous murmur from Ahmose is soft enough that it reaches only my ears.
Vek. I don’t look up, don’t pause in my steady shuffling. “How far?”
“A hundred or so cubits.”
I let my eyes flicker forward about fifty feet. A woman with her face uncovered, dressed in black. A motionless island, openly scanning the stream of other iunctii as they flow around her. Each of them unwraps their head covering as they pass, allowing her inspection. “Time for a detour.”
“Me?” Ahmose is, typically, nervous. “Again?”
“Don’t worry. You’re very good at this part.”
“Condescending kataht.” His whisper’s somewhere between amusement and panic, but leaning toward the latter. Not really the type to use quips to ease his tension. “Fine. Next alley.”
We walk for another ten seconds. The Pyramid of Ka looms ahead, towering in the distance above even the tallest buildings. Its gold-highlighted surface always motionless, long stairway completely empty. Protected, Ahmose assures me, by hundred-foot-high walls that pulse with mutalis.
I still haven’t been close enough to confirm it myself. It’s on the eastern side of the river, where the living reside. It may as well be a world away.
Ahmose breaks from the column; it takes all of a heartbeat for the Overseer to notice the figure sliding away into the relative dim of the alley.
The dead scatter before her as she bursts into motion, arrowing after Ahmose.
She knows as well as we do that there are no ways out here, no shortcuts.
Neter-khertet is a prison; everywhere the green light touches is built to funnel traffic along the main roads.
There are only closed doors down that way.
Neither she nor the dozens of passing denizens look around as I follow.
A quick right corner and we’re away from prying eyes. Ahmose has stopped—more from necessity than anything else, with the way ahead a tall wall of smooth, reflective black—and the Overseer is almost upon him.
“Display your face.” The words are emotionless and empty as they seep from her lips.
Ahmose falls to his knees. He must see me over her shoulder, but we’ve done this plenty of times before, and he knows to keep his gaze fixed firmly on her. “Glory to the Lord of Maat, Overseer. Must I?”
“Yes. It is a necessity that—”
She cuts off, a small flinch as my hand touches the back of her neck. Confusion. The barest hint of physical resistance.
And then, nothing.
It’s easy for me now. Almost effortless after weeks of constant necessity.
None of the disorientation, none of the mental dissonance or queasiness I used to get.
I use her surprise to connect, then instruct her not to communicate anything that may raise suspicion.
To obey my commands fully, answer my questions with truthful detail, and remain still.
“Why are you checking identities here tonight?” It’s easier to communicate aloud. More natural. I say it in Vetusian. I haven’t spoken Common in months.
“Potential sighting of fugitive Ahmose al Maq two hours ago. This was an anticipated direction.” Monotone.
Vek. “Was it confirmed?”
“No. Report of matching description only.”
One of the other residents must have spotted Ahmose without his face covering, then. “Are there any other Overseers nearby?”
“No. Sighting was considered unreliable, and another was reported in the riverside district.”
Ahmose has moved back up to us, chiselled features still hidden beneath his wrappings, joining me behind the woman. Cautious, if less categorically fearful than he once would have been.
He glances at me, and I nod. The diversion we arranged has paid off, at least.
“Do you know of any plans to capture Ahmose al Maq?”
“No.”
“Can you find out?”
“No. I am an investigative iunctus only. That information is inaccessible.”
The same answer I’ve had a dozen times, but I had to ask. As far as I can tell, Ka isn’t alerted by these fruitless queries.
Ahmose shuffles behind me. He knows as well as I do that detaining the Overseer for any length of time is risky; every extra second it spends away from its assigned task could be one Ka realises something is wrong.
“Do you have any recent information on someone called Netiqret?”
A pause. Her eyes flash black. “There are eleven residents registered to that name. One requested an extra allocation of grain due to the growth of her children. No other reports.”
I grunt, displeased but unsurprised, and then ask several more quick questions. Standard ones, ones I’ve asked a dozen other iunctii, not expecting any different answers and not receiving them.
Eventually, I focus and give the Overseer my parting instructions.
She’s to remember remaining at her post for her allotted time and seeing nothing unusual.
Afterward, she made some enquiries and believes we may have found an alternate route closer to the western wall.
She will suggest that future blockades focus there.
I release her, walking carefully around so that she never sees me as she turns to go back the way she came; my head wrappings are secure and she shouldn’t report any of this, but that doesn’t mean it’s worth taking chances.
I don’t take back my imbuing, either. Thanks to Caeror’s Vitaerium I have enough Will to imbue two iunctii now, and as long as Ahmose and I are in the vicinity, it’s wise to maintain access to her.
The dead woman drifts away, her black robe faintly tinted by the green, a jade shadow in the polished black street beneath her.
She rounds the corner, and disappears from view.
“We’re safe,” I tell Ahmose.
“Hm.” An unconvinced response, as usual. Still uneasily focused on where the Overseer vanished.
I sigh and clap him on the back, making him start.
Ahmose is far from the bravest man I know, but it’s hard to begrudge him his anxiety; the Concurrence has been searching for him—distributing his description, setting up checkpoints like the one we just avoided—since that first night I set him free.
And as Ahmose has continued to evade capture, our options have gradually decreased. More Overseers, more checkpoints. Random searches of Neter-khertet, building to building. Only my ability, and the fact that everyone here is a iunctus, has saved us thus far.
But we can both feel the net slowly closing around us.
We make our way back onto the main street, rejoining the slow stream of bodies and passing the Overseer without issue.
Duat’s west lours green around us, mute but for the shuffling of feet.
The distant roof to the east reflects a golden glow, almost orange, from the Pyramid of Ka.
Softer and deeper than an hour ago. It adapts to the time of day, on that side of the river. It’s the equivalent of dusk in here.
A few more turns and then we detach again from the main flow, which has already thinned as the weary dead return to their abodes.
All the equivalent of Octavii, from what I can tell: there are no clear pyramids here but every single one of them is seemingly ceding to either Ka’s priests, or his officials, or the Ka-shabti, or even other more privileged iunctii.
We merit no interest from them as we slide away down an echoing street, hurrying to the base of one of the two great Colossi of Ka that guard the exit of this district.
“You’re sure about this?” Ahmose cranes his neck to take in the brooding stare of Duat’s ruler, flicking his thumb with his little finger. A sure sign that he’s doing everything he can to keep his nerves under control.
I don’t respond, carefully examining the black stone that sits at the base of the hundred-foot statue on the right.
“Ka-sheut. Siamun?” The sound of several sandals slapping against Duat’s hard streets. Not far away.
“I’m looking.” I ignore the steadily increasing sound and locate the familiar set of symbols, sitting slightly apart from the inscription. Rapidly stab the combination Caeror had me memorise. Each glyph glows a brief green beneath my finger before fading.
There’s a soft grinding, and then a panel in the ground is folding away.
“Done.” I let Ahmose lead us down the white-lit stairs, quickly jabbing the symbol to close the entrance again as we pass, and exhaling as Neter-khertet’s dark emerald streets vanish behind us.
We reach the bottom quickly. The triangular passageways of Duat’s underbelly stretch away, lit by relieving cool white rather than the ubiquitous green of above.
I grin at Ahmose. “Told you we could make it.”
He sniffs. “Yes. You had it completely under control.” Making a valiant effort at cheer but eyes still twitching, unease still in every line.