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Authors: Valerie Douglas
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at the High Priestess. There was a heavy import behind Banafrit’s words. Yet even so… Irisi, Eres. She hadn’t told them her name but they were so similar it might have been fate, indeed, that had led her to this place. A disturbing thought. One didn’t meddle in the affairs of the gods.
Her troubled gaze met Banafrit’s.
The older woman nodded, smiling softly. “Later, Irisi. We’ll speak later. For now, a bed, a place to belong, a home, some food…”
Each word was a wonder for one who’d spent so many years rootless and wandering.
Inclining her head, Banafrit gestured to the others.
They gave Irisi Sanctuary and a home, something she hadn’t truly known in years.
Chapter Seven
The tally of donations and tributes to the Goddess was quite satisfying, Banafrit thought as she looked over the morning’s offerings. The Goddess would be pleased. There would be plenty to feed those who served the temple as well as those who had little or those who came for spells or healing – preferring the priests and priestesses of Isis to the servants of Sekhmet, sometimes, sadly.
“My lady,” one of the priestesses said as she ran up. “My Lord Kamenwati is here. He demands an audience.”
Unsurprised, Banafrit looked at the young priestess.
Demands. Of the High Priestess of Isis. The Grand Vizier dared much.
There was only one reason Kamenwati would be here and that was Irisi. It was madness. The girl had been chosen by the Goddess herself. That couldn’t be questioned and couldn’t be undone. Even Banafrit couldn’t undo it had she wanted to and she didn’t. Some of what Irisi had told her of her days as Kamenwati’s slave only confirmed Banafrit’s worst fears and suppositions. Some surpassed them. She had little doubt now that he did dark magic within the walls of his house.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“In the temple,” the girl said.
Banafrit was grateful Irisi was undergoing her initiation and was therefore secluded and unaware of the Grand Vizier’s presence.
She nodded. “Very good. Tell him I shall join him shortly. Saini, would you take over here?”
The priest nodded.
Glancing down at her simple gown, Banafrit shook her head and hurried to her quarters. That wouldn’t do. Lord Kamenwati would have to wait a moment or two more. It would serve him well to do so and perhaps give him a few moments of contemplation on the wisdom of demanding the attention of Isis’s High Priestess in the Goddess’s own temple.
A few minutes later, dressed in a fresh gown and kalasaris, her makeup carefully reapplied, and her jewelry sumptuous enough to impress the Grand Vizier, Banafrit stepped into the temple proper, sending the priestesses and priests there away with a wave. She looked to Isis and bowed to the greatest of the Goddesses, the wife of Osiris, daughter of Ra and mother of Hathor, before she turned to face the Grand Vizier.
Like the King, he was a tall, strong man in his prime, although Kamenwati’s visage was harsher and darker than that of the King, his eyes black and cold. There was no humor in him, no lightness, no kindness. She knew the rumors, the stories Irisi had told her, and she felt his wizard’s magic prickle her skin. Priestess of the Goddess of magic, she wasn’t yet prepared to do battle with him, not now when so much depended on her.
She showed none of her apprehensions to Kamenwati.
“Welcome, my lord. To what do I owe a visit from the Grand Vizier?” she asked mildly.
Turning, he fixed his black eyes on her. The fury in them whipped at her.
“I want my slave returned.”
His anger was as intense as a slap to her face, so much so that she warded herself against dark magic, invoking the Goddess here in her own temple as she cloaked herself in the Goddess’s protection.
Keeping her voice even, Banafrit said mildly. “We have no slaves, only priests and priestesses. Any who reside here have been chosen by the Goddess herself.”
She turned her eyes to
Her troubled gaze met Banafrit’s.
The older woman nodded, smiling softly. “Later, Irisi. We’ll speak later. For now, a bed, a place to belong, a home, some food…”
Each word was a wonder for one who’d spent so many years rootless and wandering.
Inclining her head, Banafrit gestured to the others.
They gave Irisi Sanctuary and a home, something she hadn’t truly known in years.
Chapter Seven
The tally of donations and tributes to the Goddess was quite satisfying, Banafrit thought as she looked over the morning’s offerings. The Goddess would be pleased. There would be plenty to feed those who served the temple as well as those who had little or those who came for spells or healing – preferring the priests and priestesses of Isis to the servants of Sekhmet, sometimes, sadly.
“My lady,” one of the priestesses said as she ran up. “My Lord Kamenwati is here. He demands an audience.”
Unsurprised, Banafrit looked at the young priestess.
Demands. Of the High Priestess of Isis. The Grand Vizier dared much.
There was only one reason Kamenwati would be here and that was Irisi. It was madness. The girl had been chosen by the Goddess herself. That couldn’t be questioned and couldn’t be undone. Even Banafrit couldn’t undo it had she wanted to and she didn’t. Some of what Irisi had told her of her days as Kamenwati’s slave only confirmed Banafrit’s worst fears and suppositions. Some surpassed them. She had little doubt now that he did dark magic within the walls of his house.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“In the temple,” the girl said.
Banafrit was grateful Irisi was undergoing her initiation and was therefore secluded and unaware of the Grand Vizier’s presence.
She nodded. “Very good. Tell him I shall join him shortly. Saini, would you take over here?”
The priest nodded.
Glancing down at her simple gown, Banafrit shook her head and hurried to her quarters. That wouldn’t do. Lord Kamenwati would have to wait a moment or two more. It would serve him well to do so and perhaps give him a few moments of contemplation on the wisdom of demanding the attention of Isis’s High Priestess in the Goddess’s own temple.
A few minutes later, dressed in a fresh gown and kalasaris, her makeup carefully reapplied, and her jewelry sumptuous enough to impress the Grand Vizier, Banafrit stepped into the temple proper, sending the priestesses and priests there away with a wave. She looked to Isis and bowed to the greatest of the Goddesses, the wife of Osiris, daughter of Ra and mother of Hathor, before she turned to face the Grand Vizier.
Like the King, he was a tall, strong man in his prime, although Kamenwati’s visage was harsher and darker than that of the King, his eyes black and cold. There was no humor in him, no lightness, no kindness. She knew the rumors, the stories Irisi had told her, and she felt his wizard’s magic prickle her skin. Priestess of the Goddess of magic, she wasn’t yet prepared to do battle with him, not now when so much depended on her.
She showed none of her apprehensions to Kamenwati.
“Welcome, my lord. To what do I owe a visit from the Grand Vizier?” she asked mildly.
Turning, he fixed his black eyes on her. The fury in them whipped at her.
“I want my slave returned.”
His anger was as intense as a slap to her face, so much so that she warded herself against dark magic, invoking the Goddess here in her own temple as she cloaked herself in the Goddess’s protection.
Keeping her voice even, Banafrit said mildly. “We have no slaves, only priests and priestesses. Any who reside here have been chosen by the Goddess herself.”
She turned her eyes to
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