Limbo's Child (40 page)

The thought that these two were stalking her or checking her out was really unsettling. “No…I’ve never seen them before in all my life,” she said with an air of apprehension, but even as she said it, she wasn’t so sure. There was something awfully familiar about them, especially the brooding red-haired teenager. She looked at him intently for a moment. He glanced her way and then quickly turned away. In that instant though she thought she saw something dark and terrible, like a large monstrous, black dog. When she felt it she fell back a little, but Sky was there to steady her.

“Hey, you ok there?” Sky asked concerned.

“Um…yeah…it’s just that those guys are so creepy.” Lucy blinked a time or two. What had she just seen?

“Yeah, hospitals at night can attract a lot of weirdoes. Sometimes you have to watch out for yourself.”

“Great,” thought Lucy, “As if things weren’t bad enough, now she had a couple of creepy stalkers, but that last thing wasn’t like the usual creepy, pervy vibes, it was almost like…well…it was almost like the way the longhaired, grey-eyed woman made her feel. Lucy didn’t dare look back at the red-haired teenager again.

Schuyler eyed them both contemptuously. He was watching out for her. How sweet.
           “Well you should watch out” Schuyler began after a minute, “Sometimes the creepy older guys like to hit on pretty fifteen year olds.”

“Yeah…” Lucy said absentmindedly, not really listening. She was still thinking about the vision of the black dog when she realized what he had said. Wait! What did he say?! “Pretty!?” Did he just say she was “pretty!?” She was in a state of near catatonic joy for a second. It didn’t last before paranoia and self-doubt overwhelmed it. “Wait,” she thought again, “Is ‘pretty’ good? Or was that something you said to your little sister? Do I want to be ‘pretty?’” Only then did her mind catch up with the rest of what Schuyler had said.

“Wait…How old do you think I am?!” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but now it was out there like a dead rat on the dinner table and she couldn’t take it back.

“Fifteen,” Schulyer just replied casually. “Why? Oh, I’m sorry, are you sixteen? I have a hard time guessing people’s ages.” He turned away and looked shy for a moment before peeking cautiously back her way.

“Um…no…I’m fifteen,” she said beaming. “Yeah…a fifteen year old in princess kitten pajamas,” she thought to herself, and then she regained a bit of confidence. “Shut up, brain! You’re not ruining this for me!”

He looked nervous. It was strangely gratifying that he could get nervous too. It made her feel far more confident for some reason.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment. Lucy was trying not to look directly at the two creeps or at Schuyler. She just wanted to enjoy the moment when she was mistaken for a fifteen year old.

Schuyler broke the silence first, “Oh! I almost forgot.” He reached into his small bag and pulled out Lucy’s purchase. “Your card.”

“Oh,” Lucy muttered, she had forgotten about it. “Thanks.”

Schuyler held it out to her, “Wouldn’t want your friend’s stepdaughter to miss out.”

Lucy reached up slowly to take it from him. She let her hand pass a little farther than she needed to. As she pulled it slowly away, her hand brushed his, and she had another one of her inexplicable, spontaneous fantasies. They were sitting on a rooftop overlooking the Manhattan skyline. Then suddenly they were somewhere else. She didn’t know where they were, but there were narrow streets and fabulous architecture in rich colors like in Mexico somewhere. Then just as quickly, the scene changed again. Now they were standing on a vast, empty, gray plain she had never seen before on the edge of a cliff overlooking an immense black pit. There seemed to be strange, blue fire around them everywhere. In her daydream, Schuyler leaned over and put his hand gently to her face as if to kiss her, but the fantasy disappeared the second Schuyler spoke. It was…odd.

“Well…later,” he said simply. Schuyler turned to go and Lucy danced on her feet like she had to go to the bathroom, uncertain if she had the courage to do what she was about to do next.

“Um…Schuyler…I mean…
Sky
,” Lucy called out nervously.

He turned around, “Yeah?”

“Um…I’m up on the fourth floor too, where your grandmother is...so y’know…maybe the next time you come by to see your grandmother, maybe tomorrow, you could…” He gave her a querulous look and she thought she had said too much. She started backtracking, “But…y’know…if you don’t want to…"

He looked a little unsure for a moment and Lucy was certain she had crossed a line somehow, but he just smiled and said, “Sure. I’d like that.” It took everything she had inside to not to do a little dance and scream, “Yes!” but she managed to restrain herself.

“You take care of yourself, Lucy.” He turned to go for the second time and then five steps away he stopped and looked back and shot her a carefree smirk and a wink, “See ya later,
freckles
.” Her mom had called her that. That pet name had always annoyed her, but coming from him, it was just…
magical
. She watched him walk out into the lobby.

As he passed near the two creepy strangers he made a quick head fake in their direction. They both flinched and nearly jumped out of their skins. Lucy laughed. Sky was
totally
looking out for her. What a sweetheart. Sky looked like the kind of guy that could handle himself. Heck, he looked like the kind of guy that could probably mop the floor with those guys! The two stalkers were so intimidated by Sky’s gesture they practically stumbled over the top of each other to get out of the lobby. Schuyler watched them go as they elbowed each other past the double doors and headed out outside and down the street. Confident that she was safe, he then walked to the end of the lobby and over to the elevators, he made one last look her direction, smiled that carefree smile that Lucy would always remember and then turned the corner and was gone.

Lucy leaned her cheek against the doorframe of the gift shop and sighed.

“Wow. He was cute,” Amanda’s voice came from behind her.

Lucy’s eyes widened to the size of ashtrays. She quickly spun around and gave the elegant woman in amber tinted glasses a horrified look. “
Amanda!
”

“What?” Amanda chuckled, “I may be over thirty but I’m not dead!”

“Amanda!” Lucy said again through gritted teeth. This mortified Lucy, but she laughed all the same. It was like something her mother would have said.

“What? All I’m saying is that there are times I wish I was a teenager again, especially if there are hotties like that roaming around the...”

“AMANDA! Could we please not talk about it
here
?”

“Ok, I get it. We can’t talk about boys or bodily functions until we’ve known each other for at least two weeks. Right?”

“Right,” Lucy agreed and laughed a little.

“
Still
…” Amanda turned to gaze off in the direction where Schuyler had disappeared from view. “There was something special, something almost…
unnatural
about him, wasn’t there?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Lucy tried to soft-pedal it, but she thought Sky had been almost…well…
super
natural. Guys like that – kind, sweet, funny
and
good-looking, without being vain – only existed in teenage romance novels, but just for a minute she let herself wallow in the sweetest indulgence of all…the indulgence of…
possibilities
. She clutched the stepdaughter-having-twins-card to her chest and sighed.

Amanda just stared relentlessly at the spot she had last seen Schuyler. Her eyes narrowed in intensity and her whole expression was cold and foreboding. Lucy didn’t like it. Even when she didn’t speak, Lucy could tell when the cold and stern Amanda took over. She hoped this was just maternal protective instinct. What mother wasn’t concerned about her daughter when it came to teenage boys? She seemed to stare at the spot for a whole minute or more, like she could look through the walls and still see him around the corner. Her eyes tracked the unseen Schuyler not to the elevators, but to somewhere else beyond. Lucy thought that was odd. Not even her own mother was that paranoid about boys. Whatever the reason, when she turned back to face Lucy, the kind and funny, cool and stylish Amanda was back.

“Well, I have some good news,” she said brightly.

“Really?” Lucy
really
needed to come up with another word to say.

“Really. But we can’t talk about it here… C’mon, let’s get our things and go.”

Lucy and Amanda gathered up their purchases and brought them to the check-out counter. The cashier gave a forced smile, she must have guessed Amanda was corporate, but her eyes betrayed a silent, “Finally!”

“I can get that for you, honey…” Amanda said, grabbing at the card Lucy was holding.

“No! That’s ok! It’s already paid for!” But Amanda had already snatched it away.

“Congratulations. Twins.
Stepdaughter
?” Amanda said out loud. She looked at Lucy with her brown cow eyes over the top of her amber glasses. “Is there something you want to tell me, Lucy?”

“Ugh…no! Just…give it back.” Lucy grabbed it back and stuffed it in her pocket.

Amanda regarded Lucy with a knowing and sly look. Then she leaned over to whisper in Lucy’s ear, “You aren’t the first one to do something foolish for a cute guy, y’know.”

“Yeah…I know,” Lucy replied shyly, and she pulled her hair behind her ears again. Amanda stood up and smiled at Lucy admiringly and Lucy felt a little less embarrassed.

They paid for their things and the cashier practically closed the shop doors on their heels.

“C’mon, honey, we have lots to talk about.” Amanda held out her elegant, gloved hand and Lucy didn’t hesitate to grab it. They walked out into the Lobby, hand in hand carrying their bags. For a moment it was just like those glamorous movies where two best friends go out and buy fancy clothes for their night on the town, only instead of a fancy schmancy street in Paris or Hollywood it was the lobby of the Harrisburg Hospital and instead of designer clothes it was a couple of t-shirts, some toiletries and a bag of cheese curls, but it didn’t matter. It still felt the same to Lucy – that is it did at least until she saw the dirty face of Yo-yo pressed against the lobby window. As she walked away hand-in-hand with Amanda she saw the look of shock and abandonment in his eyes. He was white as death, his eyes like empty glass bottles, vacant from horror.

Chapter Twenty-Five
The Chamberlain

“Come along Nefer, don’t hesitate, we have much to accomplish.”

The Chamberlain said this with even less urgency than one might say, “I’ll have another date-and-honey cake, please.” The Chamberlain hadn’t spoken much since he had bidden Nephys to follow him out of the chambers of the Great Master into the vast dark corridors of the temple. Thankfully, with his Death Sight, Nephys could follow the Chamberlain’s heart-flame through the dark hallways. The Chamberlain’s soul light was small, faint, but clear, like the lights of many that had been in Limbo a very long time. The Chamberlain was a tall man so that even though he didn’t seem to walk with any great speed, his stride never wavered. Nephys had to skip every third step in order to keep up.

“Yes, Chamberlain.” Nephys tried to bow while struggling to keep pace and only lost a step in the process.

Ever since they had left the chambers of the Great Master, he had been struggling, not only to keep up, but also to understand what had happened. The Great Master was terrifying but ancient and sickly. It had never occurred to him that Death could be ill. One of the few graces of the afterlife was the cessation of disease. No one was sick in the afterlife because everyone was already dead. Illness was a trait of mortality, but if Death were ill, did that mean it was mortal?! He had always assumed Death was…well…deathless – as permanent a feature of the universe as the stars – but then he wasn’t even certain about them anymore. He had read in some texts that had come to him recently to copy about strange things called supernovas where the very stars could explode and then shrink to a nothingness so dense it could consume everything, even light. He didn’t really understand it, but it chilled him to think that stars could die. He didn’t believe it at first. In his home country they had called the stars to the north, “The Imperishables” because they never set below the horizon, but nothing seemed to last forever anymore, so maybe they would die out too. And if a star could die, why not Death? It was too much to think about.

Instead, he concentrated on the figure of the Chamberlain ahead of him. The Chamberlain was a fellow countryman for certain. He spoke the old tongue and wore the clothes common to his land, if in a more old-fashioned style. He wore a long, blue-black linen kilt, fastened just below the breastbone. It was a simple affair commonly worn by the priests of his age. It was just one, long bolt of cloth wrapped several times around the middle with the tail end thrown over one shoulder. No other garment was worn beneath it and the left breast was left bare. Here the Chamberlain bore a terrible black wound. It gaped like an empty well, but it was not a clean wound. It looked as if he had been stabbed in the heart with a hoe or other farm implement. He wore a broad collar of lapis and silver that was beautiful but simple. His feet were shod in simple, silver sandals adorned with the typical Ankh knots, the symbol of life. His arms were covered in tight linen wrappings, like a mummy. Silver finger coverings protected his fingers. Each was made to resemble the nails and first knuckles of each finger. Nephys had seen similar finger coverings in gold placed to protect the digits of deceased royalty. The Chamberlain had obviously been a high-ranking noble or official even in life. His head was shaved, like a priest’s head should be, and the upper part of his face was covered by a silver mask like a hawk’s beak. It was made in the image of the god, Horus: the far sighted one.

Even though it had the hawk god’s eyes, there were no eyeholes for the occupant. He obviously didn’t need them. He was as blind as everyone else here and judging from the way he spoke to Nephys without looking at him, his Death Sight could look straight through the back of his head.

The Chamberlain had led him from the innermost chambers of the Halls of Death, out past the other necromancers and into the outer halls. At first, Nephys had tried to use his natural eyes and stumbled and tripped until he remembered to use his Death Sight. His natural eyes had strangely worked in the antechamber of the Great Master, but out here in the halls themselves, they were useless. The Chamberlain eventually led him down a narrower causeway, away from the many mutilated attendants and bureaucrats, into what appeared to be more private rooms and studies. The longer they walked on in silence, the more nervous Nephys became. At last he decided to brave a question.

“Chamberlain?”

“Yes, Nefer?”

It didn’t bother Nephys much that the Chamberlain used the ancient form of his name. Nephys was just glad that his grandmother had insisted the old tongues should be spoken in his house or he wouldn’t have been able to understand the Chamberlain at all. In life, many of his cousins and neighbors only spoke Greek. The Chamberlain’s dialect was often formal and hard for Nephys to understand, and he worried that the Chamberlain might look down on his humble speech. Still, there were questions burning on Nephys’ tongue so hot that he couldn’t
not
speak them.

“I…I thought that I was supposed to see the Great Master?” He cringed after speaking, expecting some rebuke, but the Chamberlain replied in his usual impassive manner.

“The Great Master sees no one these days.” He paused for a moment. He didn’t turn but kept on walking forward. However, Nephys could tell that he was looking directly at him. The power of the Death Sight was so great with some souls that they didn’t even need to point their eyes at you to see you anymore. Many did anyway out of force of habit, but it wasn’t necessary. After regarding Nephys through the back of his head, the Chamberlain spoke again, “But such is the Great Master’s trust in his servants that whether you see him or his servants, it is the same.”

Nephys almost smiled in anxiety. It was definitely
not
the same. Though not entirely certain of his fate, Nephys much preferred to be following the Chamberlain than to be face to face with the beast he had seen earlier. Nephys couldn’t resist another question though, the minute he thought of the wheezing creature.

“Um…Chamberlain?”

“Yes, Nefer?” If the Chamberlain was annoyed or impatient he didn’t show the slightest trace of it.

“The Great Master…he seemed, that is…” Nephys struggled with how to say what he wanted to say. He eventually settled on, “The Great Master is very old, isn’t he?” That sounded more respectful than saying ‘sick’ or ‘feeble.’

The Chamberlain did not hesitate but tonelessly answered, “The Great Master was already old when the stars were new, young Nefer.”

“Oh,” Nephys replied. That really didn’t answer the question though. Nephys tried again. “It’s…um…Chamberlain,” Nephys bowed a little as he said this to look more deferential. “It’s just that he seemed…” Nephys chose the next word carefully, “um...
weary
.”

“Does that surprise you, young one?” the Chamberlain replied without emphasis.

As a point of fact it did surprise Nephys, but he didn’t know what to say. The Chamberlain took his silence as an answer.

“All who labor will tire eventually,” the Chamberlain said casually then paused.

“Oh,” Nephys replied, but he was as confused as ever. Against all good judgment he pressed on.

“Is that why? …um…Chamberlain?” He added his title hastily and bowed again to avoid offense. The bowing slowed him down and he had to skip again to catch up.

“Is that why
what
, Nefer?” the Chamberlain responded emotionlessly.

“Is that why he…um…the Great Master…Is that why he doesn’t see anyone anymore? Because of…his…his
age
?” Nephys asked hesitantly.

The Chamberlain walked on silently for a while before speaking, “It is not the years; it is the burden.”

This made little sense to Nephys, but he was so relieved that he didn’t have to get any closer to the Great Master than he had that he really didn’t question this.

The Chamberlain turned down a short aisle of columns and through a side door. This door was large but far closer to human scale than the others. However, unlike the other doors, which were just simple, unadorned rectangles, this one had lotus fretwork across the top and was surmounted by the winged sun disk, also marked with the triangle. Usually, the sun disk was flanked by the Uraeus – the cobra and symbol of life – but this one was flanked by the outstretched arms of the
Ka
sign – the sign of the life essence of the soul and mark of the necromancers. Nephys followed the Chamberlain in. It was like being in a large and elegant tomb from his own country. Nephys blinked and noticed that here he could see with his natural eyes unlike outside where he had to use his Death Sight. The columns were shaped with lotus capitals and the walls decorated with scenes from the life of Osiris: his dismemberment at the hands of Set and his rescue by the farsighted one, Horus. It was like his own tomb, only more lavish. It was beautiful. It felt…comforting, like returning home after a very long journey. Nephys only realized he was standing still and gaping in wonder at all this when the Chamberlain spoke.

“You really are from the Land of the Black Earth, aren’t you Nefer?” he said flatly. The Chamberlain had crossed over the chamber to an ebony table with many scrolls and small chests on it. The Chamberlain was obviously working on something. There was also a large balance scale, like the kind his grandmother said Anubis would use to weigh his heart, but instead of weights or coins the balance held tiny human figurines in blackened bronze. One tray of the balance was overloaded with so many figurines it was weighted down to the surface of the table, lifting the other nearly empty tray high into the air.

“Yes, Chamberlain,” he said hurrying over to where the Chamberlain stood. “I am from the Land of the Black Earth.” No one called it the Land of the Black Earth anymore, except maybe his grandmother. Even in Nephys’ time it had simply been “Aegyptus” for centuries.

“Yet you use the Greek form of your name. Why?”

“My…my Father was Syrian Greek, a Roman citizen…
I
think
…Chamberlain.” Nephys only had the vaguest memories of his father. The Chamberlain betrayed no emotion, but Nephys suddenly worried if he might think less of him for not being full Egyptian. So he added another bow just to be extremely circumspect. The Chamberlain just stood rigidly behind the table.

“I see,” he said at last, “But your
mother
was a daughter of the black land?”

“Yes…Chamberlain, a-and her mother as well.” For all his grandmother had taught him, he felt like he had to get that in. He owed her that much.

“Then you are my countryman as well,” he said simply. He reached down and picked up a small ebony box from the table and walked around to Nephys’ side. As he walked he spoke, “How did you die, Nefer?”

“Die?” Nephys reached up and touched the ragged slash across his throat. “I…I don’t really remember. I was at home…I think.” Nephys didn’t really know how he had died, he had just remembered waking up in the afterworld.

“Your father was an official? A centurion perhaps? Or a man of substance?”

Nephys shrugged. He hardly remembered anymore, but they weren’t poor or uneducated.

The Chamberlain walked up to him slowly and ran the tip of one silver finger covering over the edge of Nephys’ wound. “Thieves – thieves that steal in the dead of night or in the early morning before dawn. Their kind existed in even the best times, but even they will meet the same fate. None escape the Great Master.” His voice seemed tinged with some subtle form of regret mixed with malice – the only real emotion that the mouth under the mask betrayed.

He composed himself and continued, “I died in the time of Djoser, a good ruler, a just and wise man. Our nation prospered under his watch. I have watched our people from this side for many centuries. I saw them rise to heights I could not imagine. They were wise and just and good and loved beautiful things and wisdom more than anything. There were troubled times, of course, but they outlasted them and reigned for more than a thousand years. It gave me hope. I began to believe that some things
could
last. Then came the Assyrians and the Babylonians and the Persians and the Greeks and then the Romans and
others
– raiders and invaders, pillagers and thieves all.” He paused directly in front of Nephys. He was very tall and towered over him. “Now no one worships the gods of the black land anymore. Do they?” He paused again.

Nephys wasn’t certain if the Chamberlain wanted an answer, but he finally felt the need to say something, “No…no they don’t…Chamberlain.”

The Chamberlain’s mouth, which was the only part of his face that Nephys could see, moved slightly, as if he meant to smile, but then he suppressed it. Nephys thought he saw a sharp tooth for a moment. “But then they were never gods to begin with, were they?”

Nephys had no idea what to say to this, so he said nothing. He stood there silently with the box in hand for what seemed like an eternity before speaking again.

“But our people’s fall taught me a lesson. It taught me that hope is a delusion. I learned that the only true comfort is to accept things as they really are.”

“As they are?” Nephys asked, confused. “Chamberlain,” he suddenly remembered to add while bowing.

“Yes, Nefer. The truth is that all must end in death and blood.”

Nephys swallowed hard, but the Chamberlain wasn’t finished.

“But while we can, we must save as much of life as is possible.”

He held the small box flat in the palm of one hand and removed the lid with the other.