by Lady Bast
The shaking had stopped and that was good.
Duo looked at his hands and flexed his skillful fingers. He had been working too hard, he supposed, although he did not know how this could be so. Most of his duties were little more than a game to him. Yet every task had its own stresses and he supposed that these were the things that had been gnawing at his nerves lately. It wasn't anything significant...a slight tremour in his hands that was likely due to fatigue...but when so much of one's duties relied on the precision of one's hand's, the tiniest twitch could be deadly. It was always best to pause and allow the body to right itself or the next step might be one's last. Especially where Katrah-en was concerned.
But then Duo had always enjoyed a challenge.
Now steady and clear of mind, the priest slipped from the shadowed corner where he'd sequestered himself and skimmed his way along the corridor, keeping his mind keenly aware of every niche that might shelter a human body. It was probably not necessary - not here and not now - but it never hurt to keep in practise and Duo did not intend to be caught in the middle of a bad situation. Bad situations always seemed to get worse in his presence. He supposed it came with the territory. You didn't get a good reputation by hanging around with unsavoury characters.
The sound of movement caught his attention, but he recognized the quick steps and did not bother to hide himself as Seb's dark face turned the corner. His father a native of Wawat [15], the palace servant was somewhat lucky to find a place in Nekheb where foreign servants were not unusual. Though a native of the country, his deep brown skin, black hair, and almost bottomless eyes were unusual enough to warrant rejection by many. "Your things are safe inside my lord Prince's chamber," he told the priest in passing, his voice dry and whispering like summer reeds. His eyes narrowed slyly. "The Prince is most anxious for you to join him. Do you think while I am your servant that you will exorcise some demons for me?"
"If you are going on about the little demons that invade your laundry, I've already told you to pray to Bes about it," snorted Duo. If anyone was more superstitious than Prince Quatre when it came to demons and spirits, it was Seb. "He is a household god and better suited to the task. I only specialize in exorcising people, not loincloths. Besides," he went on airily when Seb offered him a queer smile, "I thought you only served guests. Are you not assigned to Lord Heero?"
"And to yourself, Pure One. This is an unusual turn of events and the Prince does not wish to train new staff members for personal service until he is certain about his 'visitor'," replied the servant . The glass beads of his braided hair rattled together with the shaking of his head. "He has decided that I might take on the task of two servants. Lady Relena has her own retainers and soldiers like Lord Heero seldom appreciate the care of a body servant unless a massage is called for. I will not be able to shadow you as Tetiun did, but I'm sure Prince Quatre will keep you too busy to require my services too often. Of course," he added with a feral smile, "you did not hear that from me, of course. No servant would ever listen to what his master says in the privacy of his chambers. Especially not myself."
"Of course not," replied Duo with a gracious nod. "That would be utterly immoral and against the laws of Ma'at. I'm glad that you do not do it. No more than I would meddle in the affairs of gods other than my own. Although, come to think of it, a good friend of mine is intimately familiar with Bes and left me a pot of elixir for dealing with small demons. I believe I left it on the ebony table of my inner chamber in a blue pot. Blue, mind you...not green."
"Very kind of you, Pure One," grinned Seb, offering a bow of calculated sincerity. "It is very good to have so many friends."
"Yes...very good. And one finds friends in the strangest places. Now you'd best report to Lord Heero or the Prince will have your hide for his shield."
Taking the dismissal for what it was, Seb's head bobbed in a final farewell. "Thank you, Master. You are most generous," he said before continuing down the hallway. Duo drew a deep breath and hurried on to his destination. He was met by two of Quatre's personal guards. A moment of thought revealed their names to be Ahkmin and Hasuf. They seemed happy enough to see him and he greeted them with smiles and a few jokes, questions about their wives and children, and waited patiently for them to announce his presence.
He was not at all surprised to see Wufei open the great cedar doors and offer him a slight bow. "Come in, Pure One. The Prince will see you in but a moment. He is finishing his midday meal." Duo thanked him and stepped into the front chamber, smiling when most of Wufei's formality vanished the moment the doors were closed. "I'd ask if you've eaten, but the kitchens were still in an uproar when I went to collect the Prince's food," he said with a look of mild disapproval. "You knew I was going to the guest quarters to have Lord Heero settled in. You could have waited. As it stands I was delayed and now he's in a mood."
"But the bread was fresh!" The priest effected a look of shock, then lowered his voice. "And I knew you would forgive me when I brought you this. The runner arrived this morning, but you were occupied with the Prince's duties." He withdrew a tightly folded scrap of papyrus from his belt and passed it to the steward whose eyes widened. "I left it in my room during the assembly, but thought I could slip it to you now. I doubt your services will be needed for a while. You should have time enough to read it. I'm sorry it is not sealed. It was easier to disguise that way."
"That...that is fine," stammered the other, taking the slip of paper with one trembling hand and quickly secreting it beneath his shirt, it's edge secured by his belt. "Did your runner mention her health?"
Duo shrugged helplessly, not wanting to draw too much attention from the back room. "Didn't get close enough for contact though her servant suggested that she is fine, if pale."
"And...my son?"
"I'm sure Meiran will have plenty to say about him."
"Yes," whispered Wufei. "Plenty." Then, sternly. "You must wait here until the Prince is ready to see you. I will make him aware of your presence."
Duo winked at him. "As you wish, Chief Steward. Tell my Prince that he has been a very naughty boy."
"I'm sure that's a message you can relay yourself," replied Wufei drily, stepping into the back room.
The priest waited patiently, taking little interest in the expensive furniture that surrounded him. He had seen it often enough, after all. The Prince had a taste for ebony and gold, painted alabaster accenting the dark wood and painted marshland of the walls. He was turning the white chimney of a lamp over in his hands - the stone ground so fine that it was nearly transparent - when Wufei stepped back into the front room. "Prince Quatre will see you now," he said. Duo nodded, returned the lamp to it's place on the table, and followed.
"The Pure One, Set-Aket-Dua of Kom Ombo," announced Wufei as they stepped into splendour.
"Duo," said Prince Quatre in greeting as his body servant, Het-Hori removed the applicator from his face, allowing him to turn and face his guest. The fresh khol glistened around his eyes, brightening their blue as clamshell grey deepened their hollows and contrasted with the gold of his brow. Gold as brilliant as his hair - no longer stuck at odd angles like errant sunbeams, but neatly groomed. "Wufei, take care of these trays and leave us. Please review today's discourses with Selket-em-paf until you are summoned again. Anpu-nakht," he nodded to the scribe who sat cross-legged beside him, "end the letter with the usual titles, make a copy, and give them to me for review and sealing. But before then, stay and record this session. I may wish to review the words of my father. Wait for my signal to begin." As Wufei began to remove the plates and cups which had made up the midday meal, Quatre turned back to his guest. "Please sit, Duo, and wait until the room has been cleared. Is there anything that Het-Hori can get for you?"
"My Prince is gracious," said Duo with a slight bow, "but if it pleases you, I would much prefer to inspect the contents of my chest to make sure that all is in readiness. It would never do to keep you waiting."
"As you wish. If there is anything you need fetched, he is yours to command." Quatre sat quietly then, allowing Duo some time to sort through his herbs and vials, laying some aside for later, opening and sniffing some, tasting them with the tip of his tongue to check for freshness. Once Wufei had gone and most of the ingredients were ready, he spoke the words that were really on his mind. "Have you taken the time to speak with our visiting prince?"
"I have," said Duo carefully. "But if it pleases my Prince, I am missing a few simple items. May I send Het-Hori to fetch them before we speak?"
"Of course."
Duo turned to the body servant - immaculately dressed as were all of Quatre's servants - and rattled off a list of inconsequential items. "I would prefer water from the West well, if possible," he finished. "It is the closest to the door of the Duat." Utter nonsense, but it sounded magical - which pleased the Prince - and it was the furthest from the palace - which pleased Duo. He doubted that there was any on hand in the kitchen and having a runner sent would take time and keep Het-Hori from the chamber. There was no helping Anpu-nakht's presence, but the body servant was easy enough to dismiss. The fewer ears present for this conversation, the better he was likely to sleep tonight. Perhaps.
"Well?" prompted the Prince after Het-Hori had left. "Tell me of this foreigner and what can be done about him."
"I'm afraid I haven't had much time to converse with him," said Duo regretfully. The emotion was sincere enough, but not for the reason that the Prince imagined. It was the part of his meetings with Quatre that he did not like. "In truth, he is a quiet one and not given to trust. It will take more time to gather solid information, my Prince."
"So you learned nothing at all?" Narrowed eyes were proof enough of Quatre's displeasure. "I expected better of you. I must hold the reigns if I am to maintain control in this city."
"Absolute control is not so important."
"You would not think so, priest of Kom Ombo," said Quatre coldly. "Disorder is your creed, is it not?"
"Only in the service of Ma'at, my Prince."
"Well, I serve Ma'at by serving my city, is this not so?"
"Yes, my Prince."
"I must bow to the Pharaoh's decision to have the prince remain with us until he is ready to lead his people, but I will not have him wandering around in his own thoughts, with his own plans, able to destroy the peace we live in." Quatre's voice was firm and Duo could tell by the set of his jaw that he would not yield in this matter. "There must have been something that you noticed, clever Setite. What can I use to control him?"
That Quatre would not acknowledge him by name proved beyond a doubt that he would not back down and was, to Duo's heart, more painful than any body language. "There might have been something, my Prince. But I am uncertain."
"Oh? Continue, priest."
Duo bit his lip. "If...if the prince of Teresh becomes unruly, you must say to him 'I know your love'."
"And what is his love?"
"I do not know, my Prince. I only know that it will cast fear an doubt into his heart that you might control him."
"That does me little good, Duo," said Quatre drily, though his return to familiarity indicated that he was pleased enough for now.
"It will work well enough," replied the priest with relief. "If he thinks you know more than you do, it is as good as knowing the truth. But do not overuse the phrase or he will begin to see through its thin disguise."
"And you will have more information for me later?"
"I will, my Prince." Duo hardened his heart and forced his lips to spit out a damning phrase. "I promise you that I will."
"Very good. You are my best strategist in these matters." Quatre offered a wry grin. "I often wonder, with your treacherous scheming, if you yourself are not possessed."
"In all but two things: my appearance and my loyalty to you, my Prince." Creeping across the floor, Duo bent to kiss the Prince's sandal. As always, pleasing Quatre had brought a strange elation...and with it a bitter taste that turned his stomach.
"I am glad to hear it, Duo. I must be able to rely on someone." Quatre's voice seemed to soften for a moment, but he caught himself quickly. "Begin your preparations. Het-Hori will return soon."
With a nod, Duo returned to his chosen ingredients and began to measure seeds into a mortar. "If I may be so bold, there are many you may rely on, my Prince. I can understand your concern over this stranger, prince Trowa, but you should make an effort to get to know him. It is not for reasons of hate that his people invade us...or so I am told. He might make a valuable ally."
"You may not be so bold, priest. Do not suggest it again."
Duo sighed and began to grind the seeds with a pestle. "Wufei is loyal, my Prince. And he is...was...your friend."
There was a long pause this time which Duo chose to ignore. When Quatre spoke again, his voice was still hard, but somehow thick. "Cavorting with one's servants is...unbecoming."
"Then dismiss him as a servant!" The priest could not help his exasperation. "He is a free man...he serves you because he chooses to and you treat him worse than a slave! Dismiss him as a servant and give him a bit of land and a couple of men to work it. Then you can speak with him whenever you like and..."
"ENOUGH!" The shrill voice cut through Duo's heart like a blade, chilling all it touched. "Don't let me remind you of the disservice his father did to mine!"
"At least not before a servant's ears," replied Duo ruefully.
Quatre cast a disinterested glance at his scribe. "Anpu-nakht will say nothing. He is clever that way."
"Until he is recalled to the mortuary temple. Or will you not let him go." Quatre gave Duo a hard look and the priest sighed. "He has already completed the years of service that would comprise his formal training. He wants nothing more than to dedicate himself to the temple of Anpu [16] and spend his days writing spells for those about to embark on their final journeys. It would hardly be fair to deprive him of the chance because you are afraid of something he might know."
"And how would you know this?"
"I have spoken to him, my Prince." Duo hid a grimace of annoyance by opening a jar, sniffing its contents, and feigning displeasure. Reaching for another, he placed a bit of the oil it contained on the tip of his tongue, waited momentarily and then dribbled a few drops into the crushed seeds and continued to grind them.
Meanwhile, Quatre had turned to consult his servant. "Is this true? Answer me, Anpu-nakht."
Though startled by the sudden attention, the scribe recovered quickly, making a visible effort to avoid straightening the headcloth that covered his dark hair. "I...yes, my Prince. Duo has spoken to me on many occasions."
"Of what do you speak?"
"Oh...minor things. My family, Prince. The marriage of my sister last year." Quatre vaguely remembered allowing the youth to attend a family function that might have been a wedding. "My appointment to the temple of Anpu, my god, if I serve you well and faithfully. Small things, my Prince."
"You have not discussed my affairs at all?"
Anpu-nakht appeared to be shocked. "Certainly not, my Prince! I was once asked if I enjoyed my time here and I replied that you were an excellent master. That is all."
"You swear?"
"I swear solemnly, my Prince."
"Very good," said Quatre though his eyes did not communicate the same satisfaction at the answer received. If anything, there was a gleam of mistrust there, newer than the others. He turned to Duo who was busily adding select compounds to his mixture. "You will teach my servants ill manners, priest. I want nothing going on behind my back. Must I remind you that I am the Prince of this city? How am I to keep order if you continually disrupt my authority?"
"I know nothing that you would not know yourself if you but took a moment to converse with your servants, my Prince. It is simply that," he added quickly when Quatre's eyes narrowed, "unlike you, I do not have a nome to safeguard and so have time for such trivialities. And must I remind you that I am a priest of Set and that if I did not disrupt your authority, I would be cast out of my temple and my Prince would be without his magician?"
Taken by surprise, Quatre laughed; a rare sound. For all that he was in his sixteenth year, the Prince laughed like a child...and for this reason, he was careful never to express more than a bland humour. But he could still be taken off-guard and Duo was pleased that he was able to do so with some consistency. "That would never do," Quatre said almost pleasantly, reassuming his stern countenance when Het-Hori returned with a laden tray. "Ah, the fetch returns! Anpu-nakht, begin to record these events, if you please."
Relieved by the diversion, Duo signaled for the body servant to approach. "Oy! Come and help me or I will force our Prince to perform manual labour!" Het-Hori did not look shocked as he had hoped, but cocked an eyebrow to suggest that he was not sure if the priest could be believed. He stepped forward without hesitation, however, and placed the tray where Duo had indicated.
From there things proceeded naturally. Duo had performed the spell in Quatre's chambers so many times that the preparation was nearly routine. Although Het-Hori would never presume to know what herbs went where, he knew what to do when a small wooden bowl was handed to him and he filled it from the jug of West well water that he had brought from the kitchens. To this was added Duo's mash and the body servant stirred it with a wooden spoon while the priest crumbled some of the herbs from the tray into the mixture. He continued in his task while Duo set to burning the appropriate incense and removed from his case several lengths of rope and some squares of white linen. These he spread out on the floor and placed a larger bowl of copper beside them, filling it with most of the remaining water. The rest was absorbed by one of the linen square, dropped unceremoniously into the jug.
At this signal, Het-Hori set aside the bowl he held and fished the cloth out, wringing the liquid from it as Duo stood to remove his few bangles, belt, and sandals. Then, with the wet cloth and a small bit of natron which he had been sent to fetch, Het-Hori performed an abbreviated version of the typical ritual cleansing, wiping each of Duo's limbs, his face, and even running the linen over his braid as he refused to cut it. It had scandalized the Prince at first that Duo seemed so cavalier about magic's demand for cleanliness and Het-Hori smiled at the memory, hiding the expression with a bowed head as he bent to wipe Duo's feet. Nothing untoward had ever occurred during his magic sessions and so the priest had been allowed to proceed as he saw fit...including the keeping of what must be the country's longest natural hair.
Quatre watched them from his seat on a chair of ebony and gold, leaning slightly to the right as he supported his elbow on the arm rest and his jaw on his fist. He found the process fascinating. He enjoyed watching Duo's brown limbs wiped clean, his bright eyes stealing a wink or two over the head of the body servant. Though he had chastised the priest earlier for his lack, Quatre secretly believed that Duo was better off without too many decorative elements. His charm needed no enhancement and gold stood no chance in competition against his sunny smile.
He was quite aware that his infatuation with the young priest was entirely superficial, of course. Although it was not really public knowledge, Quatre made no attempt to dispel the rumours that his sexual preferences were for young men. The attitude was frowned upon, true, especially in cases where an heir was expected, but as long as it was not flaunted, it was generally ignored and too many protests would only cause him to project a guilt he did not feel. He would no doubt take a wife one day - if he wished an heir - or choose the son of one of his sisters to take his place. That he ruled now was all that mattered and this too paled before the spectacle of Het-Hori carefully bathing the priest.
Leaving his bangles on the floor, Duo signaled to the body servant to pull forward a chair which had, until this moment, been kept in the furthest corner of the room. Unlike his own seat of fine ebony, Quatre had had the chair built of sturdy cedar. It was a large and blocky affair, its arms, legs, and back scarred with long, thin friction marks. He watched as Duo settled himself in it and allowed Het-Hori to bind his waist to the back with the lengths of cord he had pulled from the chest. "Down where my belt would cover it if you can," he said, half-jokingly as the body servant secured him. "I am tired of walking around with a red line on my belly."
And he had walked about that way, Quatre had noticed. Of course he had noticed. No male abdomen that was flat and faintly muscled was beneath his notice - not even that of the foreign prince - but, despite his cautions - on those occasions when the rope had bitten too high into his flesh, Duo had been neither embarrassed nor angry, but had proceeded to carry on with his day quite cheerfully. He was unselfconscious about his appearance both in manner of dress and natural good looks. His hair was his only vanity. This, as much as anything else, was what intrigued Quatre most about him.
After the waist came the legs, tied firmly to the legs of the chair, the cord winding around the wood and settling into the grooves it had made there so long ago. After the legs, one arm - the right - secured to the arm of the chair and the last cord in readiness, drawn across the priest's lap and threaded beneath the left arm of cedar. "You'll have to tie it quickly when I finish," said Duo with a slightly nervous smile. "I haven't eaten much today and the mixture might take hold very quickly."
"Would it not be easier if I held the bowl for you, Pure One?"
"No. I will drink it myself. If something goes wrong you cannot say that you forced it on me. Here...give it to me now. Don't forget to hold the cloth to my mouth until you are sure that I cannot vomit it out."
"There must be an easier way..."
"Yes. Serious meditation. I have things to do, Het-Hori...this is quicker." Duo's voice was warm with reassurance rather than sharp with impatience though he was obviously in a hurry to have the process over and done with. It was a wonder that anyone obeyed him at all.
"As you wish, Pure One," said the body servant with uncertainty as he placed the bowl in Duo's left hand. It trembled there momentarily as the priest readjusted his movements - he was right-handed after all - and was raised to parted lips where its contents vanished quickly in three gulps. Three times exactly the priest's throat opened and closed and the dish was dropped to the floor and his arm to the arm of the chair where it was quickly bound. Then Het-Hori snatched up a piece of cloth and pressed it to Duo's lips as his throat worked convulsively to keep the noxious fluid in his stomach. He tensed against his bonds as the first cramps hit, the cords biting ever deeper into cedar and flesh, and finally stopped, breathing heavily. Quatre knew from experience that looking into his eyes would reveal his pupils to be dilating - slowly at first - as they went blind to all but the world beyond. Het-Hori removed the cloth and stood aside nervously. Duo had already begun his whispering chant. For Quatre, this was the worst part of the process. His throat raw with retching and swallowing, Duo's voice was hoarse...his whispers scuttling like scorpions...the seamless litany of words no less poisonous.
"...and know that it is not I that asks this thing but the power which seeks through me to have it done to open the doors to speak with you to speak with the father of this man I am washed I am cleansed open the doors for me oh you powerful one ruler of the underworld..."
Quatre eased himself gently out of his chair despite the fact that the priest was surely far beyond any possibility of disturbance. He advanced slowly, circling the cedar chair, taking in the scene with a mixture of fascination and revulsion. Duo breath had already begun to hitch as he spoke, occasionally crying out against the sudden cramps and spasms that shook his body.
"...to summon the....ah...spirit of...this man's father...speak to me....for I am Set....open the door...ugh...for I am Set...[17]
Quatre might have believed it. Brown limbs strained against the cords which secured them to the cedar chair, their skin tearing like fine papyrus, and yet the priest seemed not to notice. It this state, it could be supposed, he felt no pain, but still it was unnerving to see the blood well up on his arms while his eyes held a point far beyond the Prince's bed chamber....possibly far beyond reality itself. His breath grew quick and shallow, his pupils huge and round.
"...speak to me...speak through me...ah-huh...prince Amunmose...son of Satmut...righteous...in the eyes...who is...in all...your..."
The spell gave way to incoherent mumbling and finally a sharp intake of breath as the priest's body convulsed, pulling against all of his bonds at once. He uttered a cry caught between a howl and a moan - a frightening noise which had once had Quatre cowering in the corner but which, he now realized, merely signified that Duo's body had been possessed and he was now prepared to answer questions. Thus he only offered a cool nod at his magician's discomfort and returned to his ebony chair. "Do I speak with my father, Prince Amunmose of Nekheb?"
For a moment the priest could only pant, trying to fight the cords that bound him. Then, "Katrah-eh..."
"Father, you are aware of the foreign prince?"
"Yes-s-s..." And then, "Trowa."
"Father, I need your advice. I don't quite know what do to with him. I do not want him here and yet I do not wish to contradict the order of my Pharaoh. How should I proceed?"
"Obedience...is strongest...of virtues."
"I am afraid he will disrupt the delicate balance of our city, Father. The one you worked so hard to build."
"Walls-s-s...are...weakness. Kindness...be kind...can be rebuilt."
Quatre frowned, and rubbed the smooth ebony of his armrests with his thumbs. "Is that not backwards?" he mused.
Duo did not answer immediately, uttering a loud moan as another convulsion twisted his limbs against the cord. Even his legs had begun to bleed. "Destruction," he wailed. "Destroying. Gone...all gone."
The Prince stiffened with a gasp. "He will do us harm," he exclaimed, but the priest had not finished.
"...within...from within....ah...destruction...ah...slow poison killing all...destroying all...ugh...from within...dark...black..."
With a curse, Quatre leapt from his chair and crossed the floor to grab Duo by the shoulders. He was coming out of his trance...and far too soon. "Who?" he shouted into the priest's face. "Who will destroy us? I'll see him killed for treason, I swear it!"
"...poison...within...ah...death...destroy...ah-huh...black...red...blackredblack..."
"WHO IS IT?" Quatre shook the priest's shoulders, causing his head to flop forward and back, but his eyes remained unfocused, unseeing, and his mouth only stammered the words, unbroken but for gasps of pain, "...redblackredblackredblack..."
The words filled the Prince with a panic that was immediate and unyielding. "SHUT-UP!" he screamed shrilly, pulling back his hand and bringing the flat of it down across the magician's mouth. The litany stopped and Duo slumped down in his seat, panting. A small trickle of blood flowed from a cut on his lip. Quatre waited, one hand still on the priest's shoulder, his own breath coming in heavy hitches as his panic began to fade. It surged forward once again as the slack form stiffened beneath him and he scrambled back a moment before a severe convulsion ripped through Duo's body, tearing a scream from his throat. His muscled contracted, causing the fibrous cords to dig into his flesh as more blood began to flow, staining the cords, his linens, and the wood of the chair. So powerful was the spasm that the rope binding his right arm snapped. Only then did the screaming stop as Duo's eyes - glassy and blind - rolled upward and his body fell limp.
For some time the Prince stood there, simply watching the form in the cedar chair, but it did not move again. Only the shallow rise and fall of its chest gave any indication that it was alive. He waited and watched a little longer - visibly shaken, but unwilling to let his fear be known - and then he spoke. "I do not think that the priest will wake for some time, Het-Hori. I think I will speak with Lord Heero until he does. Clean him up as usual and if you need more linen - as I dare say you will - you can have Inuiu fetch it for you. I will send him back to be your runner. Have him find me as soon as the Pure One awakens."
"Yes, my Prince."
"Anpu-Nakht?"
"My Prince?"
"Where did you stop writing?"
"I stopped recording this session after 'I do not think that the priest will wake for some time, Het-Hori', my Prince."
"Very good. That is why you are my personal scribe. Come with me and when we are through with Lord Heero, you will have time to make copies of my letters and of this session."
"As you wish, my Prince."
Quatre nodded, vaguely disoriented, but certain that he now had things back under control. "I will return soon, Het-Hori. Make sure none of his blood stains the floor."
"Yes, my Prince," replied the body servant, relieved to hide his look shock and disgust in a bow. When he straightened, the Prince had already left the room.
Sighing, Het-Hori worked to loosen the priest's bonds.
[15] Wawat lies near Egypt's southernmost border - not including the province of Kush (Nubia). While not entirely black-skinned, the people of Wawat and its surrounding area tended to be much darker than the average Egyptian and so they were seen as outsiders as much as they belonged to the empire. Excellent archers, they often comprised their own division in the Pharaoh's army...the Medjay.
[16] That's "Anubis" for all you Greek-speakers. And yes, Anpu-nakht is named after him. It means "Anpu is mighty".
[17] Two standard tricks in this spell (which I'm also making up on the fly). One is to claim that you are not performing it on behalf of yourself, but that another power is using you to work the spell. That way, if the gods are pissed about it, they'll hopefully go looking for this 'other power' and leave you the hell alone. The other is to take on the qualities and powers of a god by repeating that you are, in fact, the god him/herself and/or that you have performed great tasks normally attributed to him/her. This ritual is extremely important in The Book of the Dead which supplies the deceased with spells to guide him/her through the underworld.
"The Prince of Nekheb" copyright A.C.Smith (aka Lady Bast), 2002. Send comments to asmith@ican.net Please do not repost or print (other than for personal use) without permission. The Gundam boys and all their paraphenelia belong to whomever currently holds the rights...I'm just borrowing them for a while. No infringement is intended, really. Really really. Please don't sue me, I have no money. If, however, you have a burning desire to hire me and PAY me money to write this kinda stuff, feel free to track me down.