Servant of the Gods (27 page)

He groaned, stroking a hand down her hair, feeling it flow like silk over his skin. He saw her gaze flicker to meet his even as the curve of a smile touched her busy mouth. Her hand cupped him gently and Khai’s head fell back as she licked and tasted, teased and tormented him. It was marvelous and he loved it.

It felt as if he would explode with pleasure and in a minute, if she didn’t stop what she was doing, he would.

Desperate, he reached for her, pulled her on top of him and impaled her on him. In one smooth thrust he drove into her gloriously warm, wet tightness. His hips thrust. He erupted inside her, his body taut with the pleasure of release.

She collapsed over him as he turned his head toward hers for a soft kiss.

“You looked so good when I came in I had to eat you up,” she said, smiling.

He smiled back and shook his head, sliding his hand into her hair to cup her head and press it against his shoulder. Incredible.

Listening to Khai’s heartbeat, the rhythm of it slowing, hearing his life beneath her ear; Irisi closed her eyes and slept.

The cliff face wasn’t yielding very many clues. It appeared literally impenetrable, the light and shadows of it deceptive. Still, the search for the proper place for her own entry to the afterworld wasn’t unpleasant. It was still early in the day, the heat wasn’t yet oppressive, and the breeze blew only a light spray of grit over them as they rode. As always, the desert was starkly beautiful, constantly changing. It was the wadi that gave it away, a curve in the sand where the rare rains had scoured away the sand at the base of the plateau and the winds had turned to keep it from filling with sand again. A spill of sand and small stones trickled from an almost invisible crevice. It seemed nothing more than another crack or split in the cliff face until they drew closer.

Looking to Khai and then to Awan, Kahotep, Djeserit and Rensi, Irisi shook up her horses to take her a little closer, finding a narrow defile behind the angled split in the rock. Eyeing it, she let the reins drop and swung down from her chariot.

Curious, she stepped into the cool shadows of the break in the stone face.

Khai was startled when Irisi suddenly disappeared.

Snapping his reins, he followed, as did Kahotep and Djeserit, close behind him, with Rensi following on their heels.

With a glance at the others, Khai swung down out of his chariot and followed Irisi’s footprints in the sand.

Towering high above them, the walls of the narrow channel opened onto clear blue sky, as they walked in Irisi’s trail.

All of them came to an abrupt halt, wonder stopping them as they looked around in stunned amazement.

As Irisi clearly had, looking back over her shoulder at them as they came, a faint smile of awe and pleasure on her face. She sighed in awe.

It was glorious, a magnificent and truly sacred space.

Brilliant sunlight filled what had once been a long ago cavern. In some distant past, part of the roof had cracked in a jagged east to west splinter and fallen in, leaving a narrow opening that allowed sunlight to pour inside for a good portion of the day.

A good enough portion of the day to have allowed palm trees to grow. Either the warm air trapped and cooled inside condensed enough moisture for them or there was water beneath the surface of the sand and stone, enough to supply them and some tough grasses, some wild flowers with water. It was a small oasis hidden within rock, save there was no steady water supply they could yet see.

Still, it was beautiful.

They all sighed with wonder.

Curious, they explored the shallow, irregular bowl of the old cave to the far side, finding another, truer cave awaiting there. Again, the entrance was narrow but still wide enough for Irisi’s needs.

Drawing her sword in case anything had taken up residence inside, Irisi lit a torch with a thought and stepped into the cool darkness beyond, Khai at her side with his own sword drawn, and the others following.

Inside was another large cave but this one was completely enclosed. To one side was a rounded opening that led down into another cavern below. Cool air drifted up from it.

The floor of this cave was almost flat enough and there was a low section along the back where the top of the wall had crumbled away to form a narrow shelf. Dry stalactites pointed down from the ceiling, the mica and quartz trapped in them glittering in the torchlight.

Looking back toward the sunlit half-cave behind her, Irisi glance at Khai, Kahotep and the others.

“The Gods grant it not be anytime soon,” Irisi said, “but I could rest well here I think.”

Rensi nodded approvingly as they walked back out into the sunlit outer cavern. “It would serve you well.”

Gazing around, Khai couldn’t help but agree. The sunlight oasis spoke of her. Irisi was a creature of sunlight and air.

“Perhaps the cats could be laid to rest here when they pass as well,” Irisi said, gesturing around the sunlit vale as they spread out the wine and food they’d brought with them, “to keep me company on my journey.”

The cats. Her lions.

Glances were exchanged.

She smiled at the consternation of some.

Rensi bowed acquiescence. “As you wish, my Lady.”

It had taken Irisi a little time to become accustomed to the tall, thin High Priest of Anubis, but his dry sense of humor had eventually won her over.

May it not be anytime soon
, Khai agreed in thought, but he, too, thought this place suited her. The sunlight of this little glen before the darkness of her passage into the underworld.

Even so, the thought that Irisi might not be a part of his life pierced him. The more time they spent together, the more he seemed to need her, to want her.

They had a pleasant lunch together, sharing out the food and wine, before rejoining the others for the return journey.

As far as Irisi was concerned, the ride back to Thebes wasn’t quite long enough. In a sad way Banafrit’s death had bought her this short idyll with Khai. Once they reached the city every meeting with him would be fraught with worry and concern. Had someone seen in her and Khai what Banafrit had? Did Kamenwati know? 

It was their last night together before they reached the city and already she was torn.

Curled around her, his hand around Irisi’s breast, Khai heard her sigh.

Gently, he turned her to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” he said, seeing the worry and fear in her eyes.

Shaking her head, she said, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not so easily killed,” he reminded her, his fingers on her chin.

Looking at him, she said, “I know this, I’ve fought beside you but against enemies that come against you face-to-face. You’re careful, I know that, too, Khai. Does it make me fear losing you any less, knowing someone might betray us, betray you? That an assassin might come in the night or a trusted servant turn? I love you, and I can’t bear the thought that I might lose you.”

Those precious words slipped out before Irisi realized what she’d said, or how much she’d revealed.

She’d said those words to no other but him.

Those words rocked Khai in a way no others would.

She loved him.

He touched her cheek, looking into her lapis eyes. “I love you, too, Irisi. Nor could I bear to lose you, either. Death comes to all of us one day or another, though. We can’t escape it, any of us.”

Irisi let out a breath. She knew that. Hadn’t they just laid Banafrit to rest?

“You’re right, but there’s no reason to tempt fate,” she said, reaching out to caress his chest, molding her fingers over the hard muscles, shifting a little to free her other hand to touch.

Khai smiled as her fingers closed around him and he tightened.

Groaning a little, he bent his head to brush his lips across the taut peak of one full breast.

“We could find something else to do,” she said, impishly, as his eyes closed in pleasure. “Something to keep my thoughts distracted with other things.”

“We could,” he agreed.

Irisi laughed, and then gasped as his teeth closed on her nipple lightly.

With the Marid Djinn’s help, Kamenwati managed to get the other three bound and hanging upside down from their ankles. Now he had them all. As a precaution, he’d made certain the Marid had fed well only a short time before, to gain strength as Kamenwati suggested, but also in preparation for this moment, to make it logy and a little slow. The room reeked of the coppery scent of spilled blood, which also worked to Kamenwati’s advantage. He would have to be quick.

And he was, if just not quite quick enough, while the other was occupied with binding the sila djinn in place.

Unfortunately driving a sword through the Djinn’s chest didn’t weaken it as much as Kamenwati hoped it would.

More quickly than a viper, the thing lashed back at him, but Kamenwati was possessed by another Marid Djinn so he was quick as well. He’d simply underestimated the speed of the other.

Even so it nearly took him. Without thinking Kamenwati shifted to Marid form. Now they were equal. Despite the sword in its chest the Marid shifted form as well, and its claws raked across Kamenwati’s chest as he leaped back. No simple swordsman, Kamenwati was well skilled in the art of swordplay, he slashed at Marid, driving it back a step. His wounds burned as it tried to make a break for the door, but Kamenwati was that much faster.

It turned and leaped on him, drove him back and down.

Instinctively he kept his chin tucked and his ear tight against his shoulder as it tried to go for his throat.

Rolling, he grabbed it and flung it against the wall with a force that would have killed a mortal man. Only stunned, the thing slid to the floor. It was time enough for Kamenwati. He leaped on it, trussed it quickly, tied its ankles together and hauled it up into the air to join its brothers.

Swiftly he chanted the spell that would bind the thing to his service as he and it had bound those others.

Enraged, desperate, it fought its bonds and the enchantment madly, its body arching and whipping in the air.

Kamenwati grasped the handle of the sword still impaled in the thing’s chest and wiggled it.

The thing yowled like a cat and stopped fighting as Kamenwati continued to chant.

The marid Djinn suddenly groaned, its body twitching in protest as it was bound more tightly by magic than by the rope. Then, suddenly, it seemed to resign itself to its fate and went limp. As there was no chance it could escape the bindings, Kamenwati allowed himself to relax.

Much to his dismay, he found it harder to change back to his own form than he’d expected.

A mirror gave him the truth. His face bore the unnatural beauty of the marid, it was still his, but the lines of it were finer. Of that he couldn’t complain. Within the depths of his eyes, however, a fire burned. Deep scores had been torn through the skin of his chest, and the wounds seeped blood, ichor, and some suppurating fluid.

He couldn’t leave the house looking like this.

Nor could he complete the spell. Not with his Marid side so prevalent. He dared not try or risk binding himself as well as the Djinn to the conditions of it.

That would not do.

He tried to force the change, searching for a spell in his copy of the Book of Coming into Daytime and the Book of Life, as well as the old books of his predecessor, the previous priest of Set who’d been sacrificed by his acolyte to the God they’d both served.

The old man had been a long time dying, a credit to his long years of service and self-sacrifice to his God.

None of his reading helped.

For the first time in his life Kamenwati felt an odd emotion steal over him and he didn’t like it.

Fear.

It was not for him to be afraid. Others quaked, not him.

Fury rose, a massive rage that boiled up inside him, as much a thing of the marid as of him, an intense, towering wrath that burned through him and finally freed him from his Marid form.

Unfortunately, in human form he bore the festering slashes of his Marid foe. Fever and weakness assailed him immediately, nearly sending him to his knees. But he hadn’t spent so many years in his God’s service to give in so easily.

He barricaded himself in his rooms, refusing all visitors as his body did war with itself, the infection raging within him as his human and Djinn halves did battle with each other.

Standing outside the narrow back gate to Lord Kamenwati’s estate, Saini felt horribly exposed.

At all other times he’d been granted instant entry, allowed to slip quietly and unseen through this side gate.

Not this time.

There was a chance folk had seen him.

Worse, he’d rushed from the temple in the middle of day to speak to the Grand Vizier, only to be arrive and be refused, just when he had the information he thought the Vizier wanted.

The rumors had begun only recently, since the Lord General Khai had returned from his trip north to reorganize the army and oversee its progress there.

Saini had noticed High Priestess Irisi seemed quieter than was her wont while the general was away, spending more time on her balcony looking out at night as if she couldn’t sleep, but he hadn’t attributed it to General Khai’s absence. They’d been very careful.

He wondered now when it had begun. There’d been nothing before the attack of the Djinn, and no sign after, but he’d been distracted.

Grief stung him once again at the loss of his Lady Banafrit, whom he’d served so long.

Although he’d been watching, there had been many times he couldn’t observe without revealing himself and so he’d stayed away.

Perhaps the General’s absence and subsequent return had made them careless or perhaps it had been just chance he’d spotted the General leaving Irisi’s quarters in the High Priestess’s rooms.

Saini had also been more careful, determined to learn if the rumors he’d heard were true.

No one understood why they met in secret – Isis
was
the Goddess of Love after all – which only made the rumors more virulent.

Only Saini had guessed, knowing the Vizier’s interest. Although why he was interested, why Irisi feared that knowledge, and what Kamenwati would do with the information were unknown to him. Saini hadn’t cared until recently, too angry at being passed over as High Priest.

Now though…

Lady Irisi was turning out to be a better High Priestess than he’d thought. She was also unfailingly polite and kind to him no matter how difficult he was, and he made things as difficult as he could. There had been times when she’d clearly been frustrated with his quarrels and obstacles, but she’d never taken it out on him.

However, the other priestesses and priests had begun to avoid him, his bitter anger driving a wedge between them.

The servant returned. “The message is the same. The master cannot see you now. Return in two days’ time.”

Maybe it was a sign from the Gods. Saini would take it as that.

As was customary, work had begun on Irisi’s tomb from the moment she’d been named High Priestess. It could take years for it to be complete, with all the plastering that needed to be done, as well as the protections against thieves, not to mention the design and work itself. Her architect, Ashai, had come from the south to consult with her. He’d been staying at the southern fort as work progressed, but there were questions only she could answer. It seemed strange to be thinking of death on a day so bright and beautiful, but they did go hand in hand, life and death.

In a way, his arrival couldn’t have come at a better time. She needed the distraction.

Khai had returned from the north but he’d gone to meet with the King to report on affairs there. It was unknown when he would return from that meeting. As he’d only been back for a few days she craved his company.

Meeting in secret had its own excitements, but this night if all went well and Narmer released Khai early enough, they meant to ride south of the city along the great Nile until they found a place where they could be more private.

In any event, she longed to see him. Even at best their duties kept them from each other more often than they liked but their infrequent meetings gave an extra piquancy and intensity to the moments when they could find the time. She missed Khai intensely but a day was coming when it would become easier as he found people he trusted to serve with him and Irisi did the same.

When they did come together, though, it was as if they’d never been apart….

Irisi met with the architect down in the gardens.

He was young but talented she’d been told, if somewhat high-strung, as many of artistic talents were. In years he was scarcely more than a few years older than she herself.

With a smile, Irisi greeted him and offered him refreshments, which he took as if he were only just remembering to eat. Which, given his thinness, wasn’t unlikely.

Of slightly more than medium height, his shoulders broad, his body was clearly not meant to be so spare a frame. He ate as if he hadn’t done so for a week or more, ravenously.

Artists.

Bowing her head, Irisi said, “You have questions for me?”

“Yes, my lady,” he said, between bites, “I do.”

Irisi waited, then rolled her eyes and shook her head in amusement. “Then ask.”

“This central garden,” he said. “Have the statues to be mounted on the pillars been commissioned?”

Irisi nodded. “Each will be unique.”

They would match the personalities of her cats: Nebi’s protective fierceness, Emu’s indolence, Kiwu’s playfulness, Alu’s steadiness.

“But where will they go? Which will go when?”

“Ah. That will depend on them, I’m afraid. It’s to be their tomb as well as mine.”

Just the thought of her pets dying, of not having dependable Nebi standing guard at her side or Emu or Kiwu rolling onto their backs for a belly rub made her heart break. They were her friends, the creatures who’d sustained her when she dared not risk friendships among the other priests and priestesses for fear of Kamenwati’s wrath coming down on the innocent.

“Ah,” he said. “So only the pedestals need be placed?”

She nodded. “Indeed. Anything else you want to do with it is yours to do, as long as you don’t take down the palm trees. It seems scant appreciation for their fortitude in finding a home so far away from visible water.”

That brightened him.

Ashai had vowed that if he could he would never work below the ground again. Anything he devised would rise above it. It would be he who created the shadows. The weight of the earth above him wouldn’t weigh on him as it did in this tomb but the commission of the new High Priestess was still not to be denied. She was also a good mistress.

Spreading out his sketches on fragile and precious papyrus, he showed her his plans for the interior.

The look on her face was almost payment enough. Almost.

Irisi looked over the sketches with satisfaction.

The images showed he’d leveled the floor and cleared some but not all of the stalactites, using some of them as pedestals for the statues of the Gods, to create a large open and airy space within the cave. Those statues would encircle her sarcophagus. The walls were already being smoothed and plastered so the hieroglyphs from the Book of Coming into Daylight could be applied to them, as they’d been applied to Banafrit’s tomb.

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly, running her fingertips just above the ink, so as not to risk smearing it.

Ashai’s spirit lifted. She liked it. That in itself was enough for him.

More though, this commission would mean all the world to him. Opportunities would be available to him that hadn’t existed in the past. If she continued to be pleased, he could be certain of employment for many years to come.

The Priestess’s unusual azure eyes lifted to meet his, the delight in them clear. “Thank you.”

His heart melted. “Lady.”

A messenger arrived, handing her a simple bronze coin.

To other eyes, it was only another offering such as a priestess could expect at any time.