The Feast of The Tail Ch. 13

Isis had been playing games over the last few days, she seemed to have no time for him, but he knew she desired him. He yearned for her, but he would not force her. He was, in fact, furious with her. She said she loved him, but she flaunted herself and exposed herself to him, teasing him and caressing him before running off and leaving him unsatisfied. He couldn't bear to see her flirt with others any longer. She was young and reckless, he reasoned, and perhaps she wanted to withhold herself from him until their marriage, but it was too much.

So Djhutmose decided to take his sexual frustrations to the Dewdrop in the Lotus, his favoured brothel in Waset.

As soon as the sun had set on the House of Rejoicing he shut Ta Miu in his room, made his way to the palace dock and wordlessly boarded a barque, merely pointing across the Nile to direct his servants to carry him where he wanted.

As they sailed Djhutmose allowed himself to think in silence. He thought of what his mother had said, of his duty as Pharaoh, and of his future. He watched the feet of an ibis skim the water as it flew alongside the boat, meditating on what kind of ruler he wished to be. It would all be for nothing if he never sat the throne. Did Isis mean what she said? He pondered. It was one thing to wish to become Pharaoh, it was another to kill your own father. After all, he loved his father, the man who had held him up as his favourite child, who had let him walk beside him, who had taught him all he knew.

And now here I am, not following my Mother's advice. Doing the exact opposite of what I should. Curse Isis. Curse her for planting such seeds in my head. Seeds of deceit and longing. Seeds of depravity. An uncontrollable lust. The way she exposes herself to me... The sweet scent of her nectar, her heady musk, like the evening Kyphi. She has bewitched me... The force of her will, her desires... perhaps I am afraid of them. Her inner strength matches my own. No, in fact, if I am true of heart I know her strength to be greater than mine, or I would not bend to her will. Gods. That's why I can't help but want to cover her, smother her, make her bend to me. She does not even know her own power, all things come effortlessly to her. I am like the Pharoah suckling from the Goddess, drinking immortality from her breast. The Queen of Heaven granting me the crown, as Isis gives life to Osiris and the throne to Horus, my connection to the divine is through her.

My mother, she is the one who was born to rule, even without royal blood. There is so much of her in Isis. Mother is the djed pillar for Father, the one with her arm over his shoulder, the one he leans on, the true power behind the throne. I must not let my rule be so dominated by my wife. That is my father's weakness, he bends to her will all too easily, and I shall not do the same.

Djhutmose was frowning as they skimmed into the harbour. Like a ghost he wandered off the boat, shrouding himself with a cowl so he could pass undetected. He disappeared into the crowded market and chose a camel with no finery on the saddle and rode her to the Dewdrop in the Lotus. It was all too familiar for he had ridden this route many times. First as a boy, when he had snuck away from the palace. It had been the first time he had walked alone through the city, trying not to step in camel shit as they shovelled it off the road and into carts to sell as fuel to the people who lived in the slums. The smell of spiced meats cooked over open flames wafted into his nostrils, then as it was now. He remembered fondly his first night with a woman, and with equal fondness a few moons afterwards, his first night with a man. The Dewdrop was the perfect place for a prince to lose himself, for it was the kind of establishment not quite expensive enough to draw the kind of clientele who would recognise him in the palace, but elegant enough to find the whores beautiful and clean. It was even a place where he had been able to find the friendship of a few who would be deemed unsuitable as company for a God. An added benefit was that the owner had a creative streak, hosting performances and encouraging the pleasure-givers to delve into the hidden folds of their mind and express themselves as authentically as possible. As a result the Dewdrop was a place where one could sate any lust. Even the most curious of requests would not be judged.

As he approached the door he drew back his hood just a little to reveal his face to the doorman who pulled dark lips over yellow teeth wrapped with gold wires in a wide smile of recognition.

"Welcome back, Lord Ibis."

"Em hotep, Qas."

The man unbolted the door and swung it open wide for the young prince. Djhutmose stepped inside. There was a wall of masks. Black masks. White masks. Masks with horse teeth and shaggy black hair. Masks painted with zebra stripes. Masks of carved wood with uneven eyes. There was a crocodile mask, and a hippo mask. Djhutmose took down the ibis mask with the curved beak as was his custom and secured it around his head. His shoes were immediately removed by a slender young girl with wide antelope eyes, her braids fell down over her face as she slipped the sandals off his feet with cool gentle hands. Djhuti felt himself begin to relax as his bare feet touched the woven reed mats that led into the pleasure chambers. His clothes followed, as they were forbidden in the Dewdrop. The only thing that could be hidden were faces, to protect the privacy of the clientele, though many chose not to wear masks. It was rumoured that once a husband had discovered his lover was his own wife, after many months of lying together, but of course that was only a rumour.

"Lord Ibis," spoke a honeyed voice, emanating from an unmasked woman of great beauty, "my heart overflows with delight to see you again. My lotuses and sycamores have missed you."

"Neferu, you smell of sweet rushes," he removed his mask with a flourish and kissed the older woman's cheek, "and you taste of pomegranate." he added with a sly smile.

"You are always a delight, Lord Ibis. I hope we can delight you in turn. Are you here to see her? She has been waiting ever since your arrival in the Upper Kingdom."

"Yes."

"I shall take you to her."

"There is no need, I know the way." He said before placing the mask back over his face.

Neferu merely nodded. Djhutmose left her behind and parted the white linen drapes to enter the Dewdrop. He peeled back the folds of cloth, his fingers grazing the fine weave, as though pulling the petals from a lotus. Petal by petal, curtain by curtain, he spread them apart to enter the inner sanctum where the moans of ecstasy could be heard from within. His feet suddenly touched the cool petals of fresh marigolds strewn over the floor, he was suddenly swept into a sea of orange, wading through flowers up to his ankles. Djhutmose caught sight of a man with dark skin, naked and hard, lying down legs spread, as a handsome youth stood above him. The young man peeled pomegranate seeds from a ripe red fruit with nimble fingers and poured them into the older man's mouth. The older man looked at the youth with hungry eyes and pulled him down for a kiss, their lips meeting with passion as pomegranate juice flowed from the corner of his mouth like droplets of red rubies that spilled onto the floor. They were a tangle of limbs all of a sudden, the man's shaft sliding between the youth's thighs, grabbing a handful of his muscular buttock greedily. He caught Djhutmose's eye and smiled, a wicked glint in his eye; An invitation.

Djhutmose kept walking past them, past them and others. There were women lying together on animal skins, soft pale flesh rubbing itself over the coarse hairs of a leopard. One girl wearing a lion mask stood, legs spread, over another. She took the girl's head in her hands and fucked her face while standing, head thrown back, moaning as the girl's tongue lapped at her sex. She was drowning her in it. The one on her knees couldn't draw breath, could only smell juices and sweat and sex. Djhutmose was hard already. Surrounded by earthly delight. A girl passed by him carrying a tray laden with fruit. Cut figs, sweet dates, red grapes. Djhutmose smiled at her. The girl slipped a finger covered in honey through a gap under the mask over his lips and into his mouth, she looked at him with big brown eyes as he sucked the sweetness from her finger. He licked his lips. She smiled, dipped the finger into her pussy and placed it back in his mouth. He licked off the sweetness and sourness. She smiled again and walked away, hips swaying as she carried the fruit through the Dewdrop. As his eyes followed her he saw people in every room, bodies writhing around together in ecstasy like earthworms after rain.

Djhuti continued, there was plenty of pleasure to be had, and the most delightful of all was the one he sought - Seshen, the Blue Lotus.

And there he found her, at the center of the Lotus, through a door into a room under the open sky. Marigold petals blew through the door as he entered her inner sanctum, bright slips of orange blowing across the dark stone floor, as well as petals stuck to the soles of his feet. Seshenet stood illuminated only by the stars, her shaded face lit up with a smile like the crescent moon as he removed his mask and she saw his face. She was wearing a dress of blue linen, and under the warp and weft he could see her breasts hanging heavy and low and the softness of her belly, a belly which had lines left from carrying life. A softness which was so familiar. The nipples with thick nubs he had nibbled and rolled over his tongue so many times. The Blue Lotus had been his first, the one who had opened the way for him and shown him how to love and give pleasure. He wanted to sink into her, lose himself in her, seeing her again was like coming home after a long day. Seshen was older than him, and no longer a young woman, but her knowledge of pleasure was unsurpassed. Aged like a fine wine.

"Lord Ibis, iiti em hotep. Have you come to play the game of breeze and moonlight?" As she spoke she let her fingers skim the surface of the lily pond where blue lotuses emerged from black water, their petals closed tightly for the night. She took a lotus in her hand and gently pulled the bud from its root and stem, in her other hand was a cup of wine, which Djhutmose knew had been steeped with lilies and oils from the lotus. "Shall we savour the lily flower and meet the Gods in the Duat?"

He stepped towards her, "It's been many moons since we soared across the skies together." she responded to him by gripping his shaft, gently but firmly, and found him already erect.

Seshen held the lotus in her hand and presented it to him, reaching out to him with an open palm. Then she brought the bud to her lips and said, "Taste me and tell me your troubles," as she bit down, chewing the petals, bitterness on her tongue. She washed it down with the cup of wine, swallowing a mouthful. Then Seshen took more wine into her mouth and kissed Djhuti, pouring the sacred nectar into his mouth with her own. Their kiss stretched out into eternity as the starlight blazed.

As the blue lotus symbolises the sun, closing its petals tightly at night and blooming at dawn, the bud blossomed in their mouths and petals opened. Djhuti was swallowing the sun. It filled his body with light, a body no longer that of a man, but that of a bird: an ibis. His throat iridesces, becomes golden, radiant, shimmering like the sun, until stars pour from his half moon beak. He spits out one orb, larger than all the others, which rises to the center of the sky, to the center of a lotus, shining silver and gold like a dewdrop, a reflection of the universe contained within. Blue sky, blue lotus, one and the same, circling round and round. He is flying. Seshen is with him, holding him and caressing him, her hands pumping his shaft. The ibis looks into the dewdrop, he sees the twinkle in Seshen's eye, then an orbuculum, a crystal ball and sees the constellations spinning in the night's sky. It is a star map in the Blue Temple, held up by the Gods who encircle the universe. Their words become their magic and it encircles the stars. They chant: The golden sky, the golden sky, Isis the great one, the divine mother, lady of Iunet amidst southern Iunu, the golden sky. The great gods are her stars: Herusaaset, Horus son of Isis, the Morning Star her god of the dawn, Sokar her light, Osiris her moon, Sah her god, Sopdet her goddess. They rise and set for the souls of the valley below.

The map is carved into stone, there is the sound of hammers and chisels as it is set upon the ceiling of the chapel of Osiris in the temple of Hathor. Djhutmose recognises the place where the temple stands. It is in Iunet, where one may find it following the flow of the river Nile from Waset towards the sea. The sands of time flow, and the map is cut from the stone. The Twelve are kept behind the glass pyramid. The Lion, the Scarab, the Lovers, the Bull, the Ram, the Fish. West is East and East is West. The Water Bearer, the Horned One, the Hunter, the Scorpion, the Scales, the Mother. A Warrior Goddess enthroned, stream of water flowing from her breasts, stretch marks on her skin, a cracked vase. An island in a lagoon, a lotus floating upon the freshwater abyss, it rises from the dark like light. The word. In the beginning was the first sound, the cackle of a goose, the universe is hatched from an egg. The Gods continue to speak to him, he hears their voices and they chant: the messengers of your ka have come to you, the messengers of your father have come to you, the messengers of Re have come to you. He sees the Mother, Child on her lap, his child, and the spray from her breast a winding river, the Nile among the stars. The river flows into the ocean, full of lilies. A cobra rises from the lotus, the serpent's body is the stem, and its hood is made of marigolds. It hisses at him, and the sound becomes fragrance that fills his nostrils. Djhutmose has lifted the veil between the worlds, the lotus is the key, and he has opened the door. Behind the door is the desert of black sand, and he can see Osiris, his mouth is opened, his bonds are loosened.

I have come to you from the Duat, born again, resurrected. First we must die in order to be born. The Nile must recede in order to flood. I am risen, I am risen as a great falcon going out from its egg. I eat from it. I am transfigured by it. I am flooded, my wish is taken up. I have been given my throat to speak the Word. You are also me. You will be destroyed, and you will be remade.

Behind Osiris he can see Ptah, the God to whom he is sworn priest.

It is I. I am the transfigured spirit who is in the light, the one created by myself, in forms from the root of my eye. Close both eyes to see with One eye. I am the one brought into being, the one transformed, when they were with me, when I was alone. I am One, created from an image in the eye of the world, before it had happened that Isis had given birth to Horus, before the land arose from the waters of chaos. I am the one who knows the roads of Nun, I am the maker of the road. Air is in my body. Light is in my lungs. I am Ptah. I am the one who conceives the world by the Thought in my Heart. I give life through the magic of the Word. You will be brought to the marsh of eternity, you are the boatless one, you will sleep, you will come to the endless shore and sail back again. You will imagine yourself awake, and your dreams shall recreate the world.

In the Duat Djhutmose can see Thoth, words slip from his hooked beak:

Go to Iunet, and see what is and what is not. Follow the Deshret Jackal to find your answer. Set slays Osiris, so it must be, or Horus cannot be born. You must kill yourself. See your two halves and tie them together. The father must make way for the son. All the stories are true. All the stories must come true. You will live to see the limits of the sky, through the house of Isis the goddess you will see the sacred and secret ones. She opens the sacred ways for you, you will be pure, divine, mighty, transfigured. Immortal life shall be yours. You will come, arisen, who eats men and devours gods. You will not be turned back at any gate of the west, whether you go in or go out of the Neterworld. You are ba soul, you are powerful, I know you, I know your forms, I know your names. Djhutmose, you are Osiris, Ptah, Thoth. You are thrice great. Nefertem ascends from chaos, die and be reborn..

A flash of images assails him: at the gates of death Anubis weighs his heart which is heavy with guilt, the priests of the Jackal wearing their white masks standing over the Pharaoh as they cut into his flesh and bring slices to their hungry lips, his sister Isis wearing the crown of Nekhbet surrounded by vultures that greedily pluck the eyes from the bodies at her feet. She is Lady of the Sky, the White One of Nekheb. Isis is life, she is above the earth and manifest, while he is below, dead and cold watching from the darkness. Sitamun's face appears, she looks on with pity while she dresses him. He looks down at his hands, at his body, they are wrapped in linen. Djhutmose is looking down at his own corpse, as his ka that has floated out from his nostril. They put his organs in canopic jars, they seal him in his tomb. As Djhutmose began to scream and claw at the stone he came back to reality with a gasp, the Gods were finished with him, leaving only the bitter taste of lotus in his mouth. His organs were still inside him, his soul was still in his body. Seshen was there, sat over him, soft skin and stretch marks, a tired smile. He was on the ground, a pillow under his head, his body was whole, but his mind was not.

"Are you alright?" She asks.

"I-I don't know." He stuttered, too shaken to be embarrassed by the interruption to their love making. "What happened to me?"

Seshen frowned, "You passed out," she murmured as she leaned over him to stroke his forehead, "I've never seen anything like it. Where did you travel?"

"The Neter... they went into the root of my eye and opened it. The things I saw... I am sorry, I must go." Djhuti got up to leave.

"Ibis, wait." Seshen put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Here, drink first. You don't look well." She handed him a cup of water. He drank. It was sweet on the tongue and cool down his throat. It felt good to wash out the bitter taste in his mouth. Djhutmose looked up at the sky, it was dark. So terribly dark. He had come here to forget himself and find comfort in Seshen's touch, but instead of losing all his troubles they had found him. Thoughts raced through his head, a cold sweat prickled his back. What did these visions mean?.

"Seshen," He murmured, placing the empty cup down on the ground beside him, "I saw the Gods this time. All those times before, when we tasted the lotus, they just made everything more beautiful. The world would shimmer, and I would feel everything tenfold. When you would touch me, my skin would sing. When you held me, I would disappear into you. But this time... It was different this time."

Seshen just sat quietly, serenely, looking at him with compassion.

"I felt myself die, Seshen. I felt the coldness through my body. The Neter, they said I would sail back from that shore, that I would not die... but I--" he looked at her, ashamed, "I am afraid."

Perhaps he felt he could trust her because of her age, perhaps it was her profession, perhaps after all this time he saw her as a friend, in any case he showed Seshen a boyish innocence, a side to him others rarely saw.

"Whatever the priests say in their temples, it is normal to be afraid of death. Whether or not we believe in immortality in the Neterworld, we all weep for the dead."

He looked at her and she could see the sting of tears reddening his eyes. They sat in silence for a moment. Djhutmose bent his knees and leant forwards, wrapping his arms around his legs, keenly aware of his nakedness.

"Questions must have been in my head, because the Gods have answered. It was not pleasant, I cannot make sense of it, but I cannot ignore the voice of the Gods. I think I must seek a star map. Neter Thoth has told me to go to Iunet and so I must leave you." He pulled a gold piece from a leather pouch on his wrist. "Here, for your time."

She looked at the gold that he placed before her. "Keep it."

"I shall not. I have taken up too much of your time to leave you empty handed. If you will not keep it, give it away."

Djhutmose got up to leave. Seshen just looked at him sadly.

The roads outside the Dewdrop were empty, it was the darkness before dawn and the only ones awake were the farmers and fishermen on the outskirts of the city, and half awake were the guards leaning heavily on their spears and market sellers who wearily loaded their wares onto sturdy carts by torchlight. He rode the camel back to the barque where the rowers had slept in their seats, clutching their oars, awaiting his return.

One of the light sleepers heard him approach and declared, "The Prince has returned!" They all started, and sat up straight.

The captain of the barge asked, "Where to, your radiance? Back to the palace?"

"Iunet."

"At once." The captain replied, if he was unhappy with the command he showed no sign of it, and gave orders to the boatmen who gathered their oars together, clattering against the wood and pulling out of the harbour onto the dark water. Even in a barque of this size, the journey would take many hours, but the boatmen knew not to question, only to serve. At least they would be following the current, which would hasten their journey.

Djhutmose could hear the sound of birds carried from across the water, but he could not make out their shape in the distant ripples of blue and black. All he could see clearly was the fiery reflection of the torchlight dancing over the water. The river stretched before him, he stared at the water blankly. All he could see was his dead body, in his mind's eye, he was floating as his ka out of his nostril watching with horror as they wrapped his limbs in linen. He replayed it in his head, over and over, unable to stop.

????

The sun was nearly at its highest when they arrived. There were mudbrick houses by the water where boys were casting their nets in the shallows among the sedges, Ra shined and smiled down upon them in all his splendour. The boys were all red skinned, sun tanned, with long limbs and strong shoulders. They laughed as they worked together, healthy smiles with white teeth. They reminded Djhutmose of himself as a boy, and he felt a pang of guilt when he remembered the days of his father taking him fishing on the royal pleasure barge, the pride on Pharaoh's face when his son presented him with a Nile Perch, sacred to Neith, so large and powerful the young prince could barely hold it still as it flapped in his arms. Djhutmose pushed the thought away. Every man has a complicated relationship with his father, none more so than a Crown Prince, who desires nothing more than to ascend to the throne, to become who he is supposed to be, to step out of his father's shadow. Maybe the Neteru would show him which path he should take, and perhaps the answer lay here in Iunet-ta-netjeret - Iunet, the land of the goddesses. Djhutmose surveyed the city. Naturally as it was the capital of the nome it was large, densely populated, and the delicious scent of fresh bread fresh from the clay ovens with their never ending fires filled his nostrils as they pulled into the harbour. He could see that the large temple of his vision lay nestled in the heart of the city, yet it looked shrunken, misshapen, off-balance. In his vision the temple had been as large as the city itself, with a grand walkway and a great square stone wall around the temple precinct. The main building had had six stone columns, statues of the goddess Hathor. And yet, the reality before him was not like his vision. Disturbed, the Prince readied himself to disembark, shrouding himself with his hood, that he may escape recognition.

"Make sure the boatmen are fresh when I return," Djhutmose said quietly to the Captain, "I will go back to Waset when I am finished here. You may eat and drink, and rest."

He stepped off the barge and looked around. On all sides outside the temple wall were the houses of people who lived for the temple, providing for the priests. There was a path from the river straight to a temple complex, but it was all wrong. It was shorter, the statues were different, parts were missing. The buildings that surrounded the temple were less grand than he remembered, they had fewer windows and fewer floors. They looked old fashioned, the bricks were tired and a few were crumbling at the edges. They were large houses, and clearly this city was fairly affluent, but they just seemed wrong. As Djhutmose watched the comings and goings of the locals he wondered who was the god or goddess of their devotion. From this distance he couldn't make out all the statues, or see which of the gods were on the walls. He passed several statues of what might have been Wepwawet as he walked deeper into the city, but they were so old and weathered he could not read the words carved into the stone, and he wondered if the god of Iunet was the wolf god, or the jackal Anubis. There were farmers and gardeners bringing their offerings of fruit and flowers up the road that led to the temple, laughing as they walked. He could tell this was a city where people ate well, rested well, lived lazily under the sun. No one seemed to be in a hurry. Even the mules were fat with healthy coats and bright eyes.

Still hooded, Djhutmose made his way towards the temple, passing weavers and basket makers who tried to sell wares to him for high prices after seeing the flash of gold of his rings. He ignored them. As he approached the wall the houses became more grand. Stone houses, with white walls, painted with red and brown and green. These were the residences of scribes and scientists, of record keepers, noblemen, and the nomarch, with shaded gardens, full of fruit trees, flowers, lily ponds and tall swaying palms. The prince passed a row of guards at the temple wall and continued, seeking the High Priest on the temple grounds, to ask about the star map. He could not enter the inner sanctum himself, for he was impure. It had been too long since his nails were cut, and his hair was shaved. Worse of all, he had had sex too recently to set foot on such hallowed ground. He would have to have at least a week of purification before entering the holiest of holies. But the High Priest would be able to answer his questions.

As he entered the temple grounds he felt strange. Despite the heat of the day he felt a horrible sensation down his back, like someone was pouring cold water down his spine, the back of his neck prickled, his palms were sweaty and his heart was racing. He was hit by a wave of nausea. There was something terribly wrong, it was as though the earth was no longer beneath his feet. Even from the outside the temple buildings looked strange to him. The carvings were missing, everything was the wrong colour. He panicked. What is wrong with me?.

He thought. It felt as though he was in the right place, he felt as though he should be standing underneath the constellations, the gods encircling him, and in that moment of confusion the veil between dreams and reality, between dirt and the Duat, between him and the Neteru grew thin. The air hummed with magic, Djhutmose looked up and for a moment he saw that beautiful map on the ceiling in that veil of stars. The root of his eye was opened, as though the Gods were looking through them, directing them towards Mesjetiu. Djhutmose lost control of himself. His legs buckled and he fell to his knees. His eyes moved rapidly, across the skies, from star to star, following the passage of the solar barque over a firmament of blue stone. Benetnash, one of the Ijemu-seki, one of the Behenii, one of those who do not know the twilight, one of those immortal stars that never hide and never cross the gates of Akhet. Benetnash, the daughter of Death, the eldest of the seven sisters, one of the mourning maidens, the ones who can never die. An Opener of the Way. He sees the crossing, the boat that travels across the stars, the sun and the moon, the cycle of life and death. Djhutmose knows, in his very bones, that his boat will turn back from that endless shore. He will not leave the land of the living, Death will turn him away, he will become a fixed star, reflected in the midnight waters. His ba will fall asleep in the Age of the Bull, but he will rise again in Water. The star map turns. Djutmose was dizzy, because there was no map above him, no columns, just clear blue sky and the blazing sun.

'It is not here. I must be in the wrong place.'.

He thought as he got back up to his feet. And yet, deep down, he knew himself to be exactly in the right place. Go to Iunet, and see what is and what is not..

A priest walked past and Djhutmose stopped him, frantically grabbing him by the shoulders, "Where is the map of the stars? I must see it."

The priest eyes widened as he recognised the prince, "Your radiance," He began, dipping his head in respect, looking a little uncomfortable under Djhutmose's tight grip, "I know not of what you speak."

"The Star Map? The Twelve Signs! In the Blue Temple, in the chapel of Osiris. Where is it?"

"Your highness," the priest said slowly and very carefully, "a thousand apologies, but there is no chapel of Osiris. Or any Blue Temple. Allow me to take you to the High Priest, he may know how to help you."

Djhutmose released him. The man thinks I am mad. The priest, looking relieved, began to lead him through the temple gardens, under trees that stretched towards the heavens to a beautiful fragrant grove. As he walked he came to his senses. It must have been another vision, after effects of the lotus, or an act of the Gods. They came up behind a man Djhutmose surmised was the High Priest because of the leopard skins over his shoulder. He was chanting spells over a vessel of water. Seeing them approach he finished his incantation, and recognising the prince he bowed in reverence.

"Your majesty. What an honour it is to meet you at last. Fate has smiled upon me today. The sight of you before me brings peace to my heart as the Nile brings life to the Black Land. I am Hapy, High Priest of this temple. I am at your service. How can I assist you, my prince?"

Djhutmose wasn't sure where to begin. The nausea had passed, although his head was clouded from his visions, and his eyelids were heavy. The prince rubbed his temples as he spoke. "I am here to see the star map in the Blue Temple."

Hapy looked at him like he was mad. "Forgive me, your majesty. I don't know of any Blue Temple."

"This is Iunet, is it not?" he asked, rubbing his temples.

"Yes, majesty. This is Iunet, the capital of Iqer, the sepat of the Crocodile.

"Where is the Chapel of Osiris?"

"There isn't one, my lord."

"But that can't be. This is the location of the Great Temple of Hathor?"

"Yes, my lord. Iunet is the centre of her worship. She is dearly loved by the people here and has been worshipped in this sepat for thousands of years, but it is still small, compared to what you must be used to at the White Walls and in Waset, despite the additions your great great grandfather graciously made to the site. But there is no star map within, at least, none that I know of. But there may have been, in past iterations. The temple is so ancient it has been built upon many times."

"I see." He said stiffly, trying to hide his disappointment. If the star map isn't here, what is? "And which other gods are worshipped here? Is there any chance that one of them is Sed? I saw some ancient statues on my way here."

Hapy's eyebrows flicked upwards, and he regarded the prince carefully. "Yes, Sed was once worshipped here. Now Hathor and Horus are honoured most. In ancient times Wepwawet, Hathor, Nekhbet, Serket, Heqet, Mehyt, Bastet and Sehkmet were all favoured gods, before the land was unified and the nomes were still city states. There are many people in the surrounding villages here who keep them as household gods, but their ancient temples are gone. Only Hathor's remains." the High Priest finished.

"Gone?"

"A temple to Sed still exists, but it lies in ruins at the edge of the desert. It is a cursed place where nothing grows. There are only jackals, and white bones, and the shades of lost souls. Why don't you stay a while, and I might be able to enlighten you. How about some refreshment, you must be thirsty." Hapy gestured at the table, encouraging Djhutmost to take a seat.

The prince eyed the High Priest's table. There were bowls full of fruit. He remembered that he had not eaten since he left the palace.

"Djedefre!" Hapy barked at the priest who had been standing with them, still waiting to be dismissed, "Bring some beer and bread for the prince."

Djhutmose sat and at once began eating spoonfuls of juicy red pomegranate seeds piled high in a large bowl. He remembered with a tingle of lust the way the young man in the brothel had poured pomegranate seeds into his elders mouth before meeting with a kiss. He pushed the thought aside, it was unseemly to have such thoughts in the temple.

"You are tired." Hapy observed, taking the seat opposite the prince and watching him closely.

"I did not sleep."

"And you came here looking for something." The high priest's eyes glimmered. "Of a magical nature, perhaps. Something of great importance to you." It was a question, but he spoke it as if it were a statement. "And one must wonder, what could be so important for a prince to travel unannounced and unaccompanied all night to an unfamiliar city? Perhaps it is shait."

"You are a perceptive man." Djhutmose admitted warily.

"I am a priest." Hapy smiled knowingly. He looked deep into Djhutmose's eyes, trying to pull out his thoughts and desires. "You are troubled. And, dare I say it, afraid. And rightly so."

"What do you mean rightly--" Djhutmose began angrily, almost flinging his bowl of pomegranate seeds at the man, before Hapy interrupted.

"I have been praying to the gods asking them to lead you to me. Nothing happens by accident in this world."

Dhjutmose put his bowl down on the table, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Ah, here's the bread!" Hapy shouted at the sight of the priest bringing their food and drink, his eyes willing the prince to hold his tongue. "Thank you Djedefre." He rearranged the fruit bowls on the table to make room for the enormous bread basket the priest was holding in one hand, the other hand clutching the handle of a large beer jug. Hapy poured a cup for the prince, and then one for himself. He waited for the priest to leave before speaking again. As soon as the man left Hapy's demeanour changed, shifting from cordial and charismatic to cautious and secretive. "One must be guarded when speaking of the Followers of Sed. You never know who might be listening." Hapy's voice was hushed, and he kept glancing over his shoulder. "There are things that are dangerous even to you, my prince. Especially to you."

"The Followers of Sed? They are a legend. An old legend. What do I have to fear? I am the Vice Regent. No one would dare harm me."

"Forgive me, your majesty, even the Gods can be harmed."

"Does this have anything to do with the Priests of the Jackal?"

Hapy looked very grave. "So you know of them, then. They are one and the same. Then you must know those stories are forbidden. Their names are not to be spoken."

"And yet you speak of them. If you have something to say, say it." Djhutmose commanded, he was tired, his patience had worn thin and he had no time for riddles.

"The Priests of the Jackal were once very powerful. More powerful than -- forgive me -- more powerful than the Pharaoh. And they would--"

"Kill him." Djhutmose finished. "I know of the legend." Djhutmose thought of the fabled Golden Temple where the ancient rites of Heb Sed were carried out.

"I am surprised, your radiance. Not many know of it, fewer still dare speak of it. Especially to one such as yourself."

"So what are you saying, that these Priests of the Jackal mean to harm me? Harm my father?"

"Something like that."

"Spit it out, man. I have no time for riddles. Tell me what you know."

"Of course, of course. I will tell you everything. You know the story, then. The priests would gather around the ageing Pharaoh, their golden blades sliding into his flesh, releasing his soul from its prison so it could be transferred to another. Usually his son. A boy king. Young and uninitiated. Easy for them to control." Hapy moved his chair closer to Djhutmose and continued to recite the histories. "The sun would die and rise again, the light of divinity in the Pharaoh would be passed to his son. But the Priests of the Jackal were eventually put to the sword, and rightly so." Hapy glanced nervously at the prince to see how he responded to his words before carrying on. "They were killed in the Golden Temple by Scorpion, the Pharaoh who changed the ritual of Sed into a festival. This was before even Hathor was worshipped, before we kept cow herds, in those distant almost forgotten days, when here in the south Wepwawet and Nekhbet were the two greatest gods of these lands. Nekhbet was the White One of Nekhen, the goddess of Queenship in Upper Egypt, before the two lands were unified. It is said that she would come to earth to manifest herself as a living goddess, to be born in a mortal body, the one destined to wear the vulture crown. A woman who spoke the language of the birds, who could change her shape and fly among the stars, a woman who could walk on water, with the power over the sands and the ability to speak to the dead. In some stories they say that the White One of Nekhen had seven priests, and her favourite, the high priest, became her consort. Anpu was his name. When he could no longer raise the djed pillar, he would be replaced by another younger priest. She was Death incarnate, the first alchemist, the vulture that circled the sky, who birthed the sun, creating life from death, and her consort was the jackal who brought her flesh and living blood. He was the hunter who opened the way, who tore open the chest to expose the beating heart of her enemy. The daughters of Nekhbet had the blood of divinity within, and their heka, and their speech, and their dreams, had the power to change the world around them. At first the Jackals were her worshippers, her guardians. They loved her. Made love to her. She was their prophet and they were her priests. It was a golden age, a time before the desert. It is said that in those days the Great Sand Sea did not exist, it was a lush green garden, full of life. Those were days of great and powerful magic. And then there was Sed, the one who betrayed her, displaced her, and placed her son on the throne. The boy king. That was when the rain stopped falling and the land was cursed, and so the desert was born."

Djhutmose couldn't help but think of Isis suddenly. The story made him think of her and he wanted to share it with her, and yet, he also wanted to keep it from her. "I have never heard of this story. I have heard of Nekhen, but not of such powers. And I know of Sed, the wolf god, but no one who carried his name. What happened then?"

"Magic died that day. But magic is part of this world, it is woven into it and cannot be separated from it, it can only transform. One form of magic was corrupted, one part of its soul. The magic of the White One was lost, but Nekhen birthed the sun, a son that would become Pharaoh, and he was a symbol of youth and godly strength, tied to the land and its people. He had his own magic. The magic in his blood. Controlled of course by his priests, killed before he grew old enough to question. No one has ever found the Golden Temple, no one has ever found the tomb of Sed who betrayed the White One, nor any ancient temple of Nekhbet. Those were the days before the sacred words had been written, and so they are only myths, the stories that old women like to keep alive in the marketplace. But there is a grain of truth in every story. Some say Sed is still living to this day, in a different form, fuelled by the blood of kings. My grandmother likes to say that the true followers of Nekhbet did not worship under a roof, only under the open sky, and that her legacy cannot be destroyed as long as there is blue above us. I remember her stories fondly, and they are still told to our children here. They are the stories of old, before beer was brewed and bread was baked, in a different age of the world. They are stories in which there is no desert, and no sand. They are stories which tell of paradise on earth, of green gardens, and great lakes. They are stories which tell of trees laden with fruit, where one could lay with a goddess, before we cut stone, when a man could become the wind or disappear into the sea as a fish. When Nekhbet was the Lady of Heaven, and the mother goddess of huntsmen. It was only later, in the days of milk and honey when Hathor became the name of the great mother goddess, a better fit for herdsmen and farmers. But of course, they are one and the same, the same symbol. Hut Heru, her name, means the womb of Horus. The womb of light. The womb of the sun. The stories and the symbols tell us about those distant days. You can erase a name, recarve the stone, you can erect a statue, pull it down, and build a new temple on top, but you can't stop people from telling stories. Once told, the world is forever changed."

"But what happened to the boy? Her child?"

"He is your ancestor. They used his blood. Under the guise of physicians they would bleed him for their rituals."

"Blood magic?"

"Yes, majesty."

"It is an interesting tale, I grant you, but you haven't told me anything. You haven't explained any danger to me."

"The danger is, your majesty, that there is power in the blood of Kings. Sed ate the flesh of his God, and in so doing became a powerful sorcerer. His followers practised blood magic, all powered by the blood of the Pharaoh. You are a carrier of that blood. To speak their names, to speak of the Priests of the Jackal, to speak of Sed, will draw them to you. It is said that the disciples of Sed still practise their foul sorcery, still seek a return to power. And you wander here alone and unguarded. It is unwise."

"If there is such a danger, such a threat to your God, why have you not informed the palace?"

"Many have tried to warn your father. Your mother's father included. But his ears are as closed as a camel's in a sandstorm. But destiny has brought you here to me, that I may tell you this story. It was no accident that you came today."

Djhutmose leaned back against his chair, looked at the beer on the table and downed the whole cup in three gulps. "So these sorcerers, these disciples, they exist. Still. Tell me you have more to go on than mere stories."

"Yes. I have more than stories. There have been whispers about demons in Ta Meri, wandering the desert, even coming into the cities. The reason we avoid the old temple on the edge of the desert is not because it is Sed's temple, but because people have gone missing from the site. First, a young man. Then a child three moons ago. We thought they had both been killed by wild animals. The child is still missing, but the child's father found the young man. Or, at least, what was left of him."

"What do you mean?" Djhutmose asked, leaning forwards.

Hapy leaned towards him and continued in a low whisper. "The child's father was searching the mountains in the desert to the south, towards Waset, and there he found a cave. And in that cave he found signs of people. Clothes. Weapons. Torches. He thought it could be a hideout for bandits, and perhaps they had taken his child, so he explored further. Inside he found empty, except for a body. The body of the man who went missing. And blood all over the walls they had drawn khatiu and zeftiu, demons that should never be depicted so that they cannot come into being, so that they cannot cross the veil. He recognised the demons, they are blood drinkers, butchers and slaughterers." Hapy paused and pressed a finger to his lips while a priest crossed the temple. Djhutmose thought he was not close enough to hear what they were saying, but the High Priest did not speak again until the man was gone from his sight. "There was more. A summoning circle on the floor surrounded by an ancient script. More ancient than those on our temple walls. He did not understand them, but he feared it, and was in awe of it. He said it was the Metu Neter, the divine speech. He sensed the intent behind them was evil, and afraid that the cultists might return at any moment, he ran from the place. But on his way out, passing tables covered in knives, canopic jars, and golden goblets filled with blood, he took this." Hapy reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a scroll of papyrus.

"Let me see."

Hapy passed the prince the scroll, and Djhutmose unravelled it. There was a sacred utterance written with formal script for the Medu Neter.

He drinks the abyss, he becomes the water of life, those who were in Nu transfer life to him

Unas abomination is to go in darkness

So he does not see

Upside down

He takes the flame of the Gods and holds it in his own hands. Burning with a terrible light.

A dark sun.

He has gone through the valley of the shadow

He has passed death and the fury of the Great Water

His fare has not been taken by the Ferryman

The Shrine of the Hejd Uru, the Great Ones, could not ward him off the Mesqet Sehedu, the road of the Sehedu Stars.

He makes mankind his own

Their blood is his

Their limbs are his

Their minds are his

Their souls are his

The sky is clouded, the stars are darkened

The bones of Aker tremble then all movements cease

The sky rains down

The stars darken

The Celestial vaults stagger

The decans are stilled against them

At seeing Pharaoh rise as a Ba

Powerful as a god who lives on his fathers and feeds on his mothers

Unas' shepsesu is written in the stars. He ascends the Silver River.

He is unstoppable

He whom he finds he devours

But scrawled underneath in another messier script was a message. Use the blood for the child. Use the blood of Nesut for the seven. Set the son of Shezmu on the people of Waset. Use the One Who Draws Out the Heart to enter the palace.

Djhutmose read the papyrus. Powerful as a god who lives on his fathers. His skin prickled. Could it be a sign? He looked at Hapy again. "The blood of Nesut? The blood of my father..." Djhutmose put down the papyrus grimly. "But how do they mean to get it?"

"That is what we must find, my prince." Hapy nursed his cup, swirling the liquid pensively, "I have already sent a tracker to the cave, to find the culprits. The heri tep, Merka, believes them to be madmen and amateurs, but I know the magic and I see the signs. I am afraid."

"The magic in that spell is powerful beyond measure. Not the kind to be used by common bandits. And that name, Unas, I've heard it before."

"A pharaoh of the fifth dynasty." The priest sipped his beer.

"Yes," replied Djutmose, beginning to remember his lessons from the priests his father sent to teach him long ago. "The fifth dynasty, ruled by the sons of Ra, the three brothers."

"Triplets, so says the story of Djedi and the Magicians, yes. But you are mistaken, that was the fourth dynasty. The builders of the sun temples."

Djhutmose's head hurt. There had been so many dynasties. "The fourth built the great pyramids, and the fifth?"

"The fifth dynasty who ruled from the White Walls."

"Oh yes, I remember now. The Maxims of Ptahotep were written during the fifth, by the vizier of Djedkare Isesi.

"Well remembered."

"But wasn't there something else about triplets from the fifth dynasty? A prophecy." Djutmose tore off a piece of bread absentmindedly.

"Yes, that was Khufu's prophecy. That the wife of the priest of Ra would overthrow him and his heirs. I had forgotten that one."

"That's why I was confused. Priest of Ra, sons of Ra, triplets..." He muttered, shaking his head as he nibbled an olive. "But Unas? He was the last pharaoh of the fifth dynasty."

The priest nodded, "Unas, a powerful sorcerer, greater than all his court magicians, he was the first to have the sacred utterances inscribed upon the walls of his pyramid, nearly a thousand years ago. It is thanks to him so many ancient spells have survived to this day. Unas devoted his life to the collection and preservation of ancient spells."

Baka, my teacher," Djhutmose remembered where he'd heard the name before, "the kheri hab in Mennefer mentioned his name once when he was reciting the hymns to me, I'm sure that's it. I have memorised many of the spells collected in Unas' time, though I would not call myself skilled in magic. But this one... I have never seen a spell like this." Powerful as a god who lives on his fathers and feeds on his mothers. A sign. Is my father destined to die by my hand? "It is... unlike any of the other spells I have been taught."

"At seeing Pharaoh rise as a Ba, it said. Do you know prince that the Priests of the Jackal would take the aged Pharaoh to a secret place to be killed? The House of Ka, it was called. It has never been found, of course. When the followers of Sed put their knives in him they would capture his last breath, keeping it in a jar. The breath of a Pharaoh is a potent thing. There's power in a voice that has commanded so many. There is power in breath and blood and tears and seed. You should guard yours well, my prince. Spells such as this one could be used upon the Pharaoh's last breath, and if my research is to be believed, the possession of the Pharaoh's last breath could steal his voice and put it in the mouth of a stranger. In some cases the substance could cause men with weak wills to be subjected to the will of another, they could be commanded to do wicked things without having any recollection it."

"Do you think it could have been the House of Ka he found? In the mountains? With all those jars..."

"No. No, the House of Ka would look like a temple, it would be large and grand with great pillars and art adorning the walls. But whether it is practiced there or in an abandoned cave it is the same blood magic. The magic that Unas studied and specialised in. The child's father went straight to the Merkha, frightened out of his wits, he gave me the papyrus and sent warriors to the cave." Hapy leaned back in his chair, swirling the beer in his cup, "Everything was gone. The blood scrubbed clean. All the warriors have returned, as I suspected they might. But my tracker will find whatever there is to find."

Djhutmose tore off some bread and dipped it in a blend of ground roasted onions. "I don't doubt that the mountains are filled with mad priests, but where is the danger to myself? You forget that I am a god, all men fall before me, I have my guards, I have my own magicians. This is not the first time I've had to contend with threats and assassinations. I am not afraid. If you lack funds to hunt these demon summoners it can be provided, you need only ask. My life is full, my time is precious, there are others more suited to deal with the missing people and any murders. I came here seeking only the star map."

"Then let me see you again my prince, when my tracker returns, the one who calls himself the Red Jackal. He will find answers, and when he does I would bring them to you." Hapy held out his hands, "Please, my prince, only say that you'll listen."

Djhutmose put down his bread. Follow the Deshret Jackal to find your answer. Deshret is both desert and the colour red... Is this tracker the one I must follow? "I see." Djhutmose took a ring off his finger, a blue faience piece bearing his seal, and handed it to the priest. Hapy was stunned by his sudden change. "You've convinced me Hapy. Bring this to the palace in Waset and they will permit you a private audience with me. If what you've said is true then it would be wiser to speak in private anyway, and I am tired." Djhutmose looked at the scroll lying in the middle of the table. "And give me the papyrus. I would keep it. Perhaps I shall discern something from it."

Hapy did not hesitate, and if he was loath to part with the scroll he showed no sign of it. "Of course, your radiance."

Djhutmose swallowed one last mouthful of bread and beer. "I will go now, but before I do I have a request for you." Djhutmose put down his cup. "I was looking for a map of the stars. It is not here, and perhaps it is shait that I found you, but then why do the gods show me stars? My question has gone unanswered, but I will answer it, and you will help me. In the past you said there may have been a star map here, lost to the ages. I tell you this Hapy, I must understand. The gods sent me to seek this knowledge. Where might I find a star map in Iunet?"

"Bikhotep, our astrologer would have them. It's possible there were a star map here in the past, and if there were, and we have the records of them in Iunet, Bikhotep would have them and likely any other star maps you might wish for. He is a passionate astronomer. I know that he has copies of Senenmut's celestial diagrams, but of course there are copies in Per Ankh you could read at your leisure. I will find whatever you whatever you require and I will be sure that it it sent to you. Better still, I will bring the astronomer to attend you in the comfort of your own palace."

Djhutmose got up to stand. "Be sure that you do. I will see you again, Hapy. When we do you may tell me about your priests and your jackal. May peace live in your heart."

Notes for this chapter

Iunet-ta-netjeret - Iunet of the Goddess, the ancient full name of the city of Dendera

Ta-Iunet-Ta-netjeret (tA-jwn. t tA nTr. t) - the divine pillared one

Mesjetiu - the constellation of Ursa Major, the Great Bear

Ijemu seki - the Undying Stars, the Imperishable Ones

Heri tep (ḥrj-tp) - ancient Egyptian term for a nomarch, also translated as chief

Sepat - ancient Egyptian word for nome, the districts into which Egypt was divided

Iteru (Jtrw) - river in ancient Egyptian. Another name for the Nile, along with Hapy

Kheri hab - Literally the Carrier of the Book of Ritual. Also known as lector Priests, the magicians of ancient Egypt, priests entrusted with spells and incantations.