Infinite Sacrifice (7 page)

A commoner shouts above the masses,
“It was a man. Came up right behind her and shoved her down the
steps. He ran back through the crowd.”

The temple guards rush to break up
the hovering crowd, and when they see Bastet, they call for the
temple priests. Knowing it will not bode well to be found crying
over her, I place her body on the ground and wipe away my tears. I
head to pray the rest of the day for her soul in the temple, ending
the terrible day in the comfort of my dream chamber.

I get back into
bed and fix the scroll with my god’s name on it, when I call for
Sehket. She doesn’t come like she usually does, so I call again.
Instead, Nun comes walking in, chuckling, and hurls Sehket’s
lifeless body next to my bed. I feel something move by my leg under
the sheet. I throw back the sheet to expose a writhing mass of
vipers, all crawling and hissing on top of me. I scream as they
bite into my flesh and my body bursts into flame
.

I recite the prayer to undo
misfortunes predicted in inauspicious dreams but still feel
unsettled and uneasy. I need to be sure Nun is, in fact, dead. I
can’t understand why I would dream of him killing me if he is gone
in this life.

I find the lector priest who
presided over the execution and ask, “Where did they dispose of the
slave’s body?

“One of the priests had the slave
sent for funeral rites.”

“Funeral rites?” I
scoff.

He shrugs and returns to what he
was doing before my interruption.

The City of the Dead looms lonely
near Pepy Meryre’s pyramid. A wall of rectangles rises from the
ground to a singular apex in the center with a dark gaping mouth
beckoning me within. I enter and follow the long corridor that
leads to a large pool. In the marbled glow of torches reflecting on
water, I see the shine of jewel-embellished scales just under the
water. The enormous sacred crocodile guarding the House of the Dead
watches me pass the pool, and I bow to him in respect and fear. I
enter the first ceremonial room I come across, where I see Nun’s
body lying on the table beneath three funeral priests.

One ancient digs in Nun’s mouth
with his finger and says, “The force of the spear through the
slave’s mouth was so great it thrust his front teeth
apart.”

As the other two bend forward to
examine him, my attention diverts to Aapep sitting at the scribe’s
desk, recording the funeral rite in place of his father.

“Aapep, why are you
here?”

He glances up with his flashing
black eyes. “You are fully aware that my father is
dead.”

“Oh no, I did not know. I am very
sorry to hear of his death.”

Aapep looks away, back to Nun’s
body.

Does he suspect me?

I wonder how much Khons told him
about his early morning errand.

“Why are you here, Sokaris? You do
not own slaves after death,” Aapep says even-toned.

“I went to claim his body and found
he had already been moved to have funeral rites. That is not
standard for executions.”

“I had him moved. My family is
paying for proper funeral rites.” He sets his gaze on
mine.

“Why would you do so?”

“The gods will not rest until
injustices are righted,” he says with his cold eyes
squinted.

I now know who
pushed Bastet
.

Chapter 6

I back out of the room and return
to my dwelling to plan how I will avenge her. The new slave I sent
for is here. He kneels, and I name him Aten. I tell him to fetch
some hot water to clean my feet so that I can retire and enter my
dwelling. I look for Sehket and find no cat in my room. I yell for
Aten, who hurries in, bowing.

“When I sent for you, I instructed
you to bring my favored cat Sehket. Where is she?”

He wrings his hands and sputters,
“I gathered the black tailless cat you asked for and put her in
this basket with linen tied around the top. I was walking by the
temple square at the time of Nun’s execution, and when the crowd
broke out in cheers, the cat went wild. The basket fell out of my
arms, and the cat ran away. I could not get her back.”

I strike the slave with my open
hand and proceed to beat upon his bent-over form.

The slave falls to his knees,
covering his head as I yell, “Get out of my sight!”

He scurries outside but stoops to
pick up his blanket. I throw the empty basket at him, hitting him
in the back of his head as he runs away, leaving the moth-eaten
blanket behind.

“UGHHH!” I scream out, falling to
my knees, drawing the attention of slaves on rooftops within range
of my cry.

How did my life fall to ruin like
this? How could so much change in two days’ time?

“Bastet, Bastet, Bastet.” I lament
like a woman.

Pulling myself back up, I retreat
to the solitude of my room. I slump down on my bed in despair but
jump up realizing I haven’t checked the bed yet. I pull the sheets
back to see nothing there. Breathing a sigh of relief, I fall on
the bed and extinguish the candle by my side.

Moments later, in the moonlight, I
see a peculiar movement but it flits away into the
shadows.

Sitting up with my hands braced at
my side, I call out into the darkness, “Aten, is that
you?”

When mere silence echoes back, I
wish I had not sent my slave and only protector away. The air is
thick with an unseen presence. I still my breathing to listen for
evidence of an intruder.

What is that? Is it coming
nearer?

My eyes dart into the dark corners
where the moonlight can’t reach. I wait. Nothing comes.

I release my held breath and lie
back down, scoffing loudly at my delusions.

Something lunges toward me. I
scream out as it stabs deep into my left hand. I pull my hand in
tight, trying to hold off the pain. Expecting to feel where the
reptile had punctured me, instead I feel something stuck in the
flesh of my hand. I yank it out and hold it to the moonlight. A
sharpened quill glistens in the blue light, still dripping clear
fluid. I lick the liquid, which instantly burns, numbing my
tongue.

Poison
.

I pray I removed it in time. The
shadow moves across the walls and disappears out the door. I look
down and see the wound is ominously turning black. A searing,
burning fire creeps up my arm. I feel the poison flow into my
heart, and after several painful spasms, my heart slows.

In my last few moments, struggling
to breathe, I try to piece together how this all could have
happened without any warning from Serapis.

How could I have been so blind?
Aapep ’s namesake—the moon snake god!

Something bounds through the window
beside my bed and I call out, “Aapep? Come back… to watch… me
die?”

I brace for his final blow but
instead feel the familiar pull on the linens as she leaps on top of
me, and I hear her comforting purr. Sehket quickly settles in, her
paws tucked on my chest, and warms my cooling heart as I close my
eyes.

Second Life

Spartan Education

Chapter 1

The sea air dampens my long hair as
I ride Proauga through my father’s countryside. A sunny crisp day
in glorious Sparta and it was torture waiting until my lessons were
done and my mother finally let me go outside. The sweat from my
black filly’s back soaks into my tunic as I ride bareback. I’m one
with her as she gallops over the hills, knowing the way to my
favorite spot. She slows as soon as she reaches the cliffs. I
dismount and lay in the silken grass, looking over the turquoise
Gytheio harbor, watching all the little white sails flashing and
cracking in the wind as fisherman gather up their heavy nets. I can
smell the sea from all the way up here.

A thunderstorm rattles the earth,
causing me to roll onto my knees in search of lightning, but the
sky is blue and free from clouds. Then everything shakes. Proauga’s
golden eyes widen as she shrills a frantic whinny and speeds into
the thick brush. I fight the momentum of the earth’s shaking and
retreat from the cliff toward the trees. An estate crumbles in the
distance, its majestic columns falling over like felled trees. The
roof and walls collapse forward onto fountains and statues in the
garden. The helot slaves go running in every direction, screaming
for their lives. The cliffs give way, and the ground I’d just been
standing on crashes to the shores below.

We had earthquakes before, but
nothing compared to this. Five minutes pass until the quaking
stops. As soon as I can get Proauga to come to me, I mount,
desperate for home.

I pray to Hestia as Proauga flies
through the never-ending olive groves, my fists white in her dark
mane. Approaching, I see our helots deep in rubble, lifting away
stones. I know in that instant my life has changed. I rush to where
I’d left my mother sitting with her weaving and start digging there
first. I remove the stone covering her feet and yell for the helots
to come lift off the rest of the debris on top of her. I turn away
once I see her crushed into something unfamiliar, recognizable only
by the mole beside her eye. One of the helots removes his tunic and
places it over her, attempting to erase the memory from our
minds.