Cursed Times - Only Yesterday! Sequel to Wattys 2015 winner!

Chapter 13: Trueth - Council of War Part 2

Imhotep sat up on his sofa and pulled his robe straight. 'He is still alive. It is not his death which causes me fear, but the continuation of his ba.'

Trueth's hopes soared once more, followed by another crash-landing. 'Can you stop this please, and tell us in plain words what is going on, so we can work out what to do about it?'

'There is nothing you can do apart from sitting down, I beg you. I will explain.' Imhotep waited until everybody had found an item of furniture and began.

'Our foes have forced the old prophet of Ra to end his life. Ptahmes, his second, has the talents to take over, but...let me say there are questions being asked about him. He would not get chosen, at least not as long as we do not know which role he plays in the overall scheme. He might have seized an opportunity, he might be acting for the dark ones. I fear the latter, yet without proof—'

'—proof of what?' The professor had jumped up from his cushion. 'Too much information! I know what you want to tell us, they have arrested Metjen, and they will pin the killing on my son!'

'This is not what I am telling you. We know our dead brother was coerced to cut his own throat. It is worse.' Imhotep had recovered some of his composure and focussed the laser-beam of his stare on their little group. 'They have nominated Metjen to be the next high-priest. In three days he—'

'—They cannot do this! He is too unstable!' Seisi had jumped up as well, nearly bowling over the professor in his rage. 'What will this achieve?'

Metjen's mother looked confused. 'But Metjen always wanted to be high-priest. The poor dear is so annoyed that he has all this power, and it doesn't do him any good. So what's wrong with—.'

'—Everything!' Seisi, Imhotep and the Suka nobles chorused.

Seisi was pacing the room left between the assorted seats. 'Who is going to be Metjen's shadow? A strong companion is his only chance.'

Trueth could see that the rest of her adoptive family was as bewildered as she was. 'I haven't got a fucking clue what you're talking about.'

Imhotep ignored her. 'The choice of shadow offers us no relief. They have proposed the third prophet.'

Seisi slumped on his cushion and put his head in his hands. 'The third prophet is ailing, and even more advanced in years than our old high priest. There is no way this brother can help Metjen return from the universe.'

He continued in a tone oddly devoid of emotion. 'So Metjen's ba will be destroyed, and he will be no more. Given that he is a scion of your noble house, this will reflect on you. Once Metjen is gone, the temple of Ra will need a new prophet—will need him quickly. So they will have to accept Ptahmes, there are not many other candidates left... .' Seisi raised his head again. 'Can you not ask the other Golden Ones, one of them might covet the honour of being shadow and be willing to stand in for the third prophet—'

'—I did,' Imhotep said. 'They do not wish to die for a tempestuous young man they much dislike.'

'Why did they choose my son in the first place? What on Earth are you up to in those holy piles of yours?' The professor had gone red in the face, but holding his crying wife to his shoulder limited his capacity to go on the offensive.

'The brothers do recognise Metjen's talents, and if Ptahmes recommended him, they would have followed his lead.' Seisi shrugged. 'They probably thought if your son made it to first prophet, he would be easy to manipulate due to his age. If he failed, it would not come as a total surprise either. Ptahmes has been spreading many rumours and my friend kept rising to the bait.'

Imhotep did not comment. Instead, he had tensed in his seat, a questioning expression on his face, as if he was listening to something. Or somebody. Rani-Ra and Ranofer had got up as well, they too were crying, but anger was rolling off them in waves. It was high time for Trueth to intervene.