Ra-Awab made it across, and it gladdened my heart. Tadushet made it, with Archollos right on her heels. Sarawat lagged behind. The Nubian girl took her first turn. Smenkhkare stepped out. Rennutet whimpered and tried to nudge me ahead.
“It is your turn,” said a strong male voice that I did not know. “No touching.”
Rennutet had no choice but to take her chances. She moved into the unknown. My cubicle mate couldn’t have been more than two steps in when I scanned ahead. Sarawat turned back to the left and moved her shoulders to balance herself. Her sheath caught under her foot. She tripped and fell to her knees.
The Nubian girl ran right into Sarawat. Afraid in the dark, the tall girl couldn’t regain her balance and plunged over the precipice. A blast of fire spurted up. I jerked back. The flames consumed her as the girl let out a muffled scream. The sickening smell of burnt flesh permeated the room. Everyone froze. They were blindfolded, how could they understand the terror I witnessed? Fire. Death. Gone. It could have been any one of us.
I started shaking.
“What happened?” whimpered Rennutet. “Did someone get hurt?”
She panicked.
It dawned upon me that the others didn’t have inner vision. Grand Djedti’s words came true. ‘A perilous path.’ I could either cry or continue on.
Rennutet placed one foot in front of another, testing the stone with her toes. It seemed to work.
There must be another way, I thought. This initiation must ask me to do something unusual, something that’s already within me. Otherwise, why would they put us in danger unless we had the skills to complete it?
I thought about the wheels of light within my body I saw back in Akhet-Aten. What if I turned on the first light out of the top of my head? My turn neared. I pushed every bit of energy I had up through my crown.
I could feel it align and my head pulsated. As the wheel turned, cosmic light lit it up like a torch. I took my first
titi
upon the limestone path. Three large steps then turn. Six to the right. Left three. Rennutet turned too soon and lost her footing, using her arms to attempt to balance.
No,
I thought and sent energy flowing through my palms. It shot out and held her up like strong hands of light. With great surprise, she steadied herself and regained her equilibrium. A few more steps and Rennutet navigated the walkway to completion. I turned to the right and took my final six steps. The ground under my feet changed. Hands removed my blindfold. I looked up into Pentu’s face. His cold eyes and tight lips showed his disapproval.
I threw my hands up to my mouth. I am damned.
“Y
ou have all completed this initiation with excellence. I commend you,” said The Magistrate. “Many of you used new and unique skills to make the crossing. Others were not as fortunate.”
“What happened to the Nubian?” asked Ra-Awab.
“She wested,” Pentu explained. “Her destiny called and her soul had already made a portal opening for her departure days ago. When your time has come and it is by the choice of the Aten, it is inappropriate to interfere with the
Calling Home of the Soul
. None of you could have saved her.” He avoided my eyes. “Now, you may all exit to the north.”
We headed toward the door and I contemplated this news.
“Merit-Aten, may I have a word with you?” said Pentu.
I froze. My shoulders hunched.
“Yes, Magistrate, how may I serve you?” I said in the high speech, hoping this would appease him.
When the others left the room he addressed me. “Merit-Aten, I am most disconcerted by your actions tonight.”
“But I made it across. Did this not please you?” I said, knowing full well what he really meant.
“I had no doubt you would make it across. You broke a rule.” I shivered. “Am I damned to the underworld?”
“No. We explained that would be the outcome if you changed your own destiny. But what you did still has serious consequences.”
“What?” I asked, feeling a slight relief, yet my stomach churned.
“You stopped Rennutet from falling into the abyss. She wanted to west.
Her death portal opened up a while ago. You changed her destiny by rescuing her. However righteous it may appear, you changed the course of her life and that of her baby.”
“You know about the baby?”
Pentu cocked his head, implying that I should know that answer by now.
“She thinks that no one knows; otherwise she would be dismissed.”
“I am the Royal Physician. All pregnant women emit a tiny light from their abdomen. It was obvious to one of my training, although she did escape detection from the other priests here. We must address the consequence of your action. You owe both her and her child a karmic debt.”
“What does that mean?”
“You changed her life. There will come a time when you must make amends.” He scratched his head with vigor.
“How?”
He shrugged. “It is not for me to say. It is the will of the Aten.”
I shivered again. So Rennutet and her unborn child should have perished in the flames? How horrible. She was my cellmate. I couldn’t let her fall. I didn’t plan it, so why would I be held accountable for helping?
“Yes, Pentu. I shall uphold my duties,” I said, even though this news bothered me.
“Indeed, Your Highness. Now you may join the others. By the way, you will be leaving tomorrow.”
A tear trickled down my face. “I am being dismissed and sent home?” How could I tell my father that I had ruined his dreams?
Pentu paused to reflect. Green swirls emitted from his heart. “No, you passed all the required initiations. You have earned the right to continue on to the Temple of Denderah.”
“But what about the Initiation of Soul Reflection?”
“I decided that if you felt so strong about viewing your death, then I would view it for you. I also viewed the other’s Soul Reflections and realized that two of your fellow Neophytes would west tonight. It seemed cruel to have them enter this initiation knowing they would die a difficult death by fire. So, The Orama reconsidered asking any of you to take this test because he felt it would be more prudent and benevolent to forgo it. And that is also how I know that you changed Rennutet’s destiny, because I saw her die. If her destiny was for you to save her, then I would have viewed that course. Now, you do not have to worry about letting your class down.”
I stared at the cold ground. “It is too late. I already told them. They abandoned me.”
“I am sorry for your difficulties. I thought this decision would ease your way, but it is now apparent that it has not. All of you leave early in the morning for Denderah.” He put his arm around me. “There is one thing more.” He reached into his sheath and pulled out the necklace my father gave me. “Ra-Nefer asked me to return this.”
I slipped my necklace on, feeling a bit cheered. “Pentu, will you be going with us?”
“No, Beloved, that temple would not be appropriate for me.”
“Why?”
“You will see. I left instructions for your path as well. I shall miss you.”
T
he barge docked at the port of Denderah. I kept to myself at the bow, surveying this new temple while eating my carob honey cakes. Archollos, Sarawat, Keshtuat, and Ra-Awab tossed around a leather ball, laughing like crazed hyenas. Smenkhkare sat in the shade with Rennutet. We now seemed like strangers. While I understood their anger, it still saddened me. If they abandoned me once, it would be safer not to invite them into my heart again.
We soon disembarked down the lowered gang-plank.
“You can wait here until the ferry returns to take you to the jetty,” said the barge captain.
“That does not look too far. I could swim that in less time than it takes the ferry to arrive,” bragged Archollos. He stripped down to a loin cloth.
“Archollos, come sit next to me on the ferry ride.” Sarawat’s green eyes pleaded.
Keshtuat flipped her braids back over her shoulders. “No, you sat next to him last time. This time I want a turn.”
“Would you beautiful ladies both join me for a swim?” Archollos invited with a teasing grin on his handsome face.
“Allow me to give you a head start,” said Ra-Awab, who shoved Archollos into the water.
“See you on the other side,” said the Mycenaean boy as he swam away in strong, sure strokes.
I scanned the water to make sure there were no crocodiles. I couldn’t bear it if he met the same fate as Hep-Mut.
“Let us walk down the dock and wait for the ferry,” suggested Keshtuat as she gathered the others.
I stood forlorn as they left. The captain watched. “One spot left in the skiff. May I give you a lift?”
“Yes. Thank you,” I replied.
Our little boat skimmed the water. I kept my eyes upon the blonde young man, in the water and watched him race the busy boats bringing groups of well-dressed male passengers to the shore. At the beach women offered trays of drinks to the newcomers.