"Weret Hekau? You mean the goddess of magic?" Truth be told, I was feeling a little dim. I'd had only a few hours' sleep and a handful of dates and some rather foul cheese to eat, and I had been called before a rather hostile group of judges; I was not able to equate six men with the goddess of magic.
The major snorted. "Of course they weren't the goddess of magic." He'd returned to his pacing.
"Oh, good. I'm glad we got that sorted out, because I was feeling a bit confused..."
"Weret Hekau was also a title given to ancient Egypt's most accomplished magicians. Those that had reached the highest degree of magical mastery. And six of them were sitting in that tent."
"How could you tell?"
"They were the ones with the snake tattoo running up their wrists."
Ah. I had noticed that and had meant to ask Major Grindle about it, but he had beaten me to it.
He stopped his pacing. "Don't you see? This means that not all the secrets died with the library at Alexandria. The knowledge needed to attain mastery hasn't all been lost!"
"Oh. Do you plan to ask them to write it down for you? So you can put it in your vault?"
Before he could answer, Safiya came bustling back into the tent carrying an armful of clothes. Two other women trailed behind her. "The mudir has spoken. You are to appear before the high priest tomorrow to plead your cases. I have brought clean robes for you to wear so that we may wash your clothes for you. And more water for washing," she said, wrinkling her nose.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Rites of Maat
I DID NOT SLEEP WELL THAT NIGHT, knowing that I was to face an official trial in the morning. And Fenuku would no doubt be sitting in judgment. He'd made it clear that he held no love for me or Grindle or even—perhaps especially—Awi Bubu. Safiya awakened us when she came in with our freshly washed laundry and a hearty breakfast. After eating and donning my own clothes, I felt more like myself and ready to face our judge and jury.
We were led from the camp to the giant temple ruins nearby, although truly, they were the best preserved ruins I had ever seen. As we drew closer, I realized that this was no mere ruin whose shadow they camped in. It was a working temple, still used in the worship of their gods. Bald priests wearing pleated linen kilts bustled about the courtyard. Some carried vessels of purifying water, and others carried baskets of fruit or grain. A goat bleated nearby, and a scribe hurried into one of the side chambers.
We were led past the first pylon, then the second. As we entered the temple chambers, I saw that our trial was to be held in front of three sem priests. They sat in front of a wall that held a huge painting depicting Horus presiding over a Weighing of the Heart ceremony. Would our hearts be determined to weigh less than a feather? Did they have a Devourer nearby who would eat us if we failed the test?
Furthering the bad news was the fact that their ranks included Fenuku, just as I had suspected. The good news, though, was that Baruti, the kind priest who had sent the falcon to summon the wedjadeen that very first time, was also a sem priest, and he had proved himself quite friendly to us. The third appeared to be the high priest.
We were made to kneel on the hard stone floor. Once we had, the high priest began to speak. "You are brought before the judgment of Maat, to be held accountable for your actions in regards to the abduction of our pharaoh. Furthermore, you are to be examined so that we may understand how you came to be in possession of your knowledge of our existence as well as some of our most closely guarded secrets. Lastly, you are here to tell us what you know of the traitor, Awi Bubu, so we may determine if your actions in losing our pharaoh were carried out on his behalf."
"No!" I said, shocked. "Awi Bubu never mentioned the pharaoh to me—"
"Silence!" Fenuku boomed. "You will be given a chance to speak and will remain silent until then."
The unknown priest leaned forward. "The charges made against you are serious, child. To even know of our existence can bring a swift and terrible death. To have meddled in our affairs, to have lost what is most precious to us—those things have even more dire consequences."
"Although," Baruti interrupted, "those laws and punishments have been devised for adult transgressors. Trials such as these have never involved a child before."
"Then let her go." Major Grindle was quick to step into the opening Baruti gave him. "As you say, she is but a child, and a girl child at that. She has little value and should not be held responsible for what has transpired."
I appreciated what he was doing, trying to get them to free me, but I did not like being accused of having little value; it cut too close to the bone.
"That, too, will be decided over the course of this trial," the high priest said. Then he turned to me. "How did you come to know Awi Bubu?"
Before I could answer, Fenuku leaned over and whispered in the high priest's ear. After long moments of whispered debate, the high priest spoke again. "The point has been made that we have no way to be certain you speak the truth. We would ask that you willingly subject yourself to the Rites of Maat so we may determine the veracity of your words."
"Um, what is that, exactly?" I asked.
"With the goddess of truth guiding your tongue, false words cannot pass your lips. Are you afraid?" Fenuku smirked.
"No," I lied. "Just curious." And wondering if it would hurt.
"I will endure the Rites of Maat." Major Grindle's loud voice rang out through the chamber.
Fenuku looked surprised, while Baruti did not. The high priest merely clapped his hands. "Let the Rites of Maat begin!"
Three lesser priests hurried into the room. I could not help but assume they'd been listening at the door, so quick was their response.
They approached Major Grindle bearing vessels, bowls, reed brushes—all manner of strange equipment. They bowed before him, then got to work. One of them poured oil from an ornate vessel into a shallow bowl. Another one unstoppered a clay jar and transferred some dark, sticky paste from it to the bowl, then stirred. When it was the right consistency, they had Major Grindle open his mouth. While he said, "Ahhh," one of the men dipped a brush into the special ink and began to paint on Major Grindle's tongue. Burning with curiosity, I inched forward to see better.
The man was painting a figure on the major's tongue. A woman—a goddess, to be exact. But of course! The goddess Maat.
When he had finished, he dipped the reed brush back into the special ink and drew three more hieroglyphs next to the figure of the goddess. When he was done, he withdrew a respectful distance.
The major looked at me, and we waited a long, breathless moment. When it became clear he wasn't going to keel over dead from poisoning, he gave a brisk nod. "Nothing to it, Miss Throckmorton."
"What did it taste like?" I asked.
He tasted his tongue. "Honey and ashes, I think."
"And what of you, young miss?" Fenuku was leaning forward again, his dark eyes shining. "Will you, too, undergo the Rites of Maat to assure us that you speak nothing but the truth before us?"
"Yes," I said. "I have nothing to hide." But of course, that wasn't exactly true. I had many things I needed to hide from lots of people; the wedjadeen just weren't among them.
The lesser priest stepped forward with his mixing palette—I was glad to see that he'd picked up a new brush—and motioned for me to open my mouth. When the ink touched my tongue, it tingled, a faint burning on my taste buds. When he had finished his artwork, he motioned to the sem priests that they could begin the questioning.