"The importance of religion in the daily life of the Kemetic people at the time we're here considering is impossible to overlook or to overstate: with a seemingly infinite pantheon of gods, goddesses, semi-divine beings, the divine attributes of the above, heroes, villains, heavenly hierarchies within hierarchies and hierarchies of hierarchies, mythological, and semi-mythological figures-- any and all of which could and should be consulted for any number of various reasons-- the Kemetic people were equipped with the supreme epitome of religion: Occasionally monotheistic, never truly polytheistic, a syncretism of conflicting ideas surrounded by a token obeisance to the concept of religion. While the typical planet bound person knew their villages' local god and the main accepted arm of the pantheon (especially and most preeminently the heavenly trinity of Wsr, Ist and Hor and the local aspect of the God of Stars, and perhaps the Opener of Gates), the priesthood (embodied in the Shemsu Hor especially, and to a lesser extent the Wab Amun and other small cults) did not enforce so much a religion but a religious way of life: a strictly regimented, round pegs in round holes society that placed its highest values in the faith that the people in charge knew what needed to be done and how to do it because they were enlightened by the gods in ways that the common populace was not. While this let the society function with intense integration and purpose, it also let debacles like the so-called 'Family Wars' occur when that implicit trust and faith was let down and had to be transferred to other people, other concepts…"
From the introduction to "Kemetic Religious Life" by Daniel Simon
A bright beam of light stabbed down from the lofty heights above the second-tier balcony, illuminating a single person on the stage below as the crowded auditorium erupted in applause, the last heroic notes of the overture still fading out. The actor in the white kilt and heavy bracers obviously relished in the sound, but he was trained: he didn't show his pleasure in the accolades of the crowd other than a small upturn of the corners of his mouth. The chorus behind him, still shrouded in darkness, began singing, describing the actions of the man-god Wsr, the part which the divo played, the audience silent.
A segment where the protagonist encountered his wife-to-be brought another round of applause, that duet being one of the most highly appreciated in the first act of the Passion. However, the pair froze on the right center side of the stage, their spotlight dimmed, while the masked actor who played Wsr's brother entered to a hesitant and subdued applause on the extreme left-- manifesting out of darkness it seemed-- and began his a cappella solo.
This is always the high point of the first act, thought Ani as she stared with rapt attention at the masked man singing on the left side of the stage. It's a shame that it has to be sung by the villain-- fewer people will appreciate it. Even for the massed crowd, under the balconies where some members of the priesthood was sitting, who were incapable of understanding the old language it was a beautiful scene, the duplicit brother singing of his plan to usurp the man-god in soliloquy, then joining the other two principles in a trio expounding the values of family.
Ani Sebhet sat engrossed, her chin leaning on one closed fist with the other in her lap. I've always been a fan of the brother, she thought. His part has always been written better. Very uncharacteristic for a priestess of 'the Son of the Father.' The masked actor left the area, stage right, while the actor portraying the man-god Wsr rode the simulated waves of some primeval ocean. At least I can see the passion before I leave tonight. The fate of a priest, this, such constant moving. Never can stay settled in one location.
Ani switched her chin to the other hand, her flowing, pleated linen gown shifting silently about as Wsr expounded in high baritone the virtues of not eating other people and of raising crops instead to a bowed gang of primitive villagers. He then (using the power of special effects) called down flame on a second group of villagers that threw rocks at him, the primitives writhing into death as a platform descended and they exited-- stage down.
The act ended as he sailed back along the waves of the ocean, singing of his goals of progress, law and justice for all His masked, nameless brother rose above his confident sibling, appearing to float, promising pain and malevolence for his younger brother, who remained ignorant of the threat. The man-gods' part of the song was reinforced by high twinkling notes, but was countered by the strong, blood-moving bass instruments, matching with the threats and promises of doom from the nameless brother. The curtain closed with the man-god floating off into the sunset, with applause heralding the intermission.
Joining the throng of people leaving the balcony level for the mezzanine, Ani passed through broad double-doors in a crush of formal gowns and sturdy jeweled collars, accorded space by the crowd due to the obvious fact that she was a priestess of the Shemsu Hor-- if her folded linen belt did not make it plain, then certainly her imitation-animal skin cape did. She strode towards the now-crowding lounge area of the second story mezzanine, smiling to passersby and exchanging necessary greetings. Ani was very surprised, however, to see Nehesui-- a friend in the priesthood-- as she entered the noisy, crowded lounge. Ani paused and shifted her path from the drink bar to his table by a window, her pleated gown shifting at its' mid-calf length. "Priestess Sebhet, it's so good to see you again," the younger man said in his grave, yet clear voice as she sat. "The blessings of the Son of the Father are truly upon you. I trust that you're enjoying tonight's performance?"
She nodded to a waiter, accepting his drink suggestion and beamed at Nehesui: he'd been her counsel for some time, since his second year as a full priest, and was familiar with the small crisis of faith that the 'Passion of Wsr' was to the woman. "I'm surprised to see you here, friend," she replied, skipping formal reply. "I wanted to see the Passion before I left tomorrow morning." The waiter returned, a tall glass of clear refined Renpit placed before her.
Nehesui took a small sip of his own cup to moisten his lips: he was from a very dry planet and did not sweat nor salivate much, and said, "that's what I'm here about. I'm to inform you that you're leaving, but not quite tomorrow. There have been recent developments, developments that you are in a unique position to handle." He again moistened his lips, a common habit. She saw that he was drinking only water. Unusual… He usually takes wine.
Outside, a flying vehicle passed, its' running lights quickly lending their colored glow to the pair's faces. It made the angular crags of Nehesui's cheekbones and slab-like chin stand out in sharp relief, especially when compared to Ani's rounder, more regular face. She found it striking. Within seconds the effect had passed, removed from her mind by an act of will. "Uniquely suited? I've proselytized to miners on Hiw, helped in hospitals and taught in parochial school here on Abtu, received specialized education in history on Hor itself." She sighed, sipped her drink. "Among other tasks. But I'm not in a special position for anything. I'm just another Death priestess in a cult of Death priests," she irreverently sighed. But inwardly she was interested-- this was a unique event in her life. She'd never been singled out for anything except the priesthood, and that was nearly twenty years in the past.
Nehesui took a deep breath and another sip of his drink, wincing as he lifted his arm. "How'd the opera tonight make you feel, Ani?"
Not the question she was expecting. She cocked her head to one side, raised an eyebrow. "Not any differently than it usually does, Nehesui, why?" Rain pattered against the window in a brief, wind-driven spray and then continued on its normal path downwards. A strange question from my old friend, she thought. And he already knows the answer.
Nehesui smiled, somewhat sadly. "Still a crisis of faith, then? Sympathizing with the Nameless One?"
"His singing parts are better written, that's all," she replied. Cut to the chase… "You mentioned some event, what is it?" He still looked across the narrow metal table at her, sipped his water again, expression unreadable. "Fine, Nehesui. I've always felt that the Nameless One was justified in his desire to rule. Perhaps not in his desire to destroy his brother," she was quick to add as a concerned shadow passed over Nehesui's face, "but he was the older and stronger of the brothers, the foreman of the Solar Bark. I can sympathize with his plight."
Nehesui nodded, seemed to come to a conclusion. "Not many would be so eager to tell their superior of such a belief," he calmly stated. A brief smile played across his youthful face. "A crisis of faith is not the denial of faith, Ani. Don't become so wrapped up in your sympathies-- a perfectly normal feeling," he was quick to add as Ani retreated somewhat, "to be sympathetic to the one who looses-- that you loose perspective. Strength does not equal justice. Power does not mean wisdom. And priority of birth does not grant anything special if the one born is not born to be extraordinary."
"These are cardinal laws of our priesthood, Nehesui," Ani countered. "I've known them since indoctrination, though the way that you just said them is somewhat non-standard." This did garner a small smile from the man, the cleft of his chin contributing to a telltale dimple alongside his mouth.
"You've always been one to form your own conclusions, not to blindly accept what it is that you're 'supposed' to," Nehesui continued. "That is why you're the one that I wanted to go, whom I pushed for."
"Go where? I am always at the call of the Shemsu Hor," she said and said it honestly-- despite the fact that she did question her faith she was still a priestess of the Shemsu Hor: all that embodied the old religion of the people of the Neb. Dread and anticipation played themselves through her mind, looking for something to latch onto. "I'm not going to embassy on Thena?"
Nehesui shook his clean-shaven head, a mark of his rank in the priesthood. "First, the more unusual of details: Deep in Am Duat, we have maintained a network of listening stations since before the Family Wars. We've monitored them from Kha'ameth in the Tenth Nome-- the deep galactic south-- for generations."
Ani nodded, she'd heard of this project and what he was implying made her blood run cold. "There has been a breakthrough?" she asked, leaning over the table and lowering her voice. She switched to the old language when she did so, as was required when speaking of internal affairs in dubious public. Nehesui did the same.
"Thirty-four years ago, after decades of inconclusive reception, we began to receive very weak signals of an obviously intelligent origin. Short bursts of high-relative-strength peaks with consistent pattern, with a low motion shift." Nehesui stopped to take a drink of his water. "Only within the last few weeks have any vocal signals been received. Despite being incredibly weak, they're clearly of human origin."
Ani excitedly nodded. This was all basic stuff-- the old myths telling of how the Kemetic people had originated on a planet far away and had been forced into exodus by another faction of mankind were still told in villages and cities even today, exactly seven thousand one hundred and eighteen years since that supposed event took place. It would even have been covered toward the end of the Passion, which was signaling it's imminent second act via a proclaiming messenger. "What does this mean to me? Why are you telling me this? Normally this would be knowledge privy only to…" she stopped cold.
"A member of the expedition." Nehesui nodded to the woman who had lost much of her color suddenly. "Something told me that you'd be a little more impressed," he continued after she didn't say anything for a moment. He then coughed just a little, to get her attention, but it was followed by a louder, less deliberate expulsion.
Ani blinked and shook her head slightly, a little color coming back to her pallid face. "…It's not what I expected, is all," she finally replied. "Why am I to be involved? This is not my area of expertise."
"But it is," Nehesui refuted. "You just acknowledged your 'specialized education in history', Ani. You've a keen mind for deduction and question everything, never accepting base facts on faith. You're ideally suited for this. Some think that you are in a position to lead." He sipped his drink, finished speaking. The bar staff clustered up, talking and joking among themselves as the remaining patrons left to return for the second act of the Passion. Ani and Nehesui were otherwise alone.
Her mind was racing, reeling from this information. She had no idea that she would even be on the minds of the selection committee-- that one had even existed, this being so far out-- being but a lower-ranking priestess of no special distinction. And any mission such as this one would have to pass through the 'impassable' Am Duat, a gas cloud masking innumerable peril that no explorer had ever passed through and lived: it was the de facto southern boarder of the Neb and the theoretical location of the afterlife. And to lead? She'd led the mission to Hiw right out of seminary but had only been a member of every journey since that time, until placed as an independent attachŽ to this city of Wherema'anipthia on this capital planet of the Nomarchy of the Eighth Nome.
"But before you leave, Ani, you have something less spectacular to attend to. You, among many others around this part of their scheduling cycle, are being re-routed to handle an outbreak of plague." He said it simply, with little emphasis, voice a little thin.
She looked at him, face flowing with confusion. "What does that have to do with a plague? This is one of the great mysteries of all time. And I am going to go work a plague?"
Nehesui shrugged. "Your name came up. You are available, next in line." Again, he sipped his drink. "We've waited this long, we can wait a little longer." Ani looked out the window, face forming something of an unreadable mask. "And, as you said, you're a Death priestess in a cult of Death priests. We have a job to do. We are waiting incarnate."
"Why me?" Ani finally asked Nehesui, who had been looking at her with concern when she'd not responded.
"Because I think that you can, and because I can't." A sad, almost pitiful look came over his face. "Ani, my best friend, I am dying. There's a growth in my chest, one that is putting pressure on my heart. I've been here for a week, the whole time in hospital from the stress from landing, or I would of contacted you sooner. I won't survive another journey into space." Nehesui took another small drink of the water, letting a rueful expression pass over his face for the first time in this conversation, almost a sneer, but it was gone quickly. "Why me... what an apt question. I've asked it a few times recently myself."
Ani's shocked look spoke volumes to man who'd been a fleet captain in the Nome of the Shemsu Hor while she was still in seminary, despite her ten years of age over his. "But- but you're younger than I am. And you've come so far!" Her vision was clouding by the first in a set of tears that she must subdue, but she continued. "You were leading fleets when I was memorizing chants. You- you're holy," she intoned and meant it, heartache lending its' special tones to her voice. "That's why you went farther than I did when you were younger." She dropped her face, closely examining the table to hide the tears as she brought them under control.
"I can see you, Ani. You've nothing to be sad about," Nehesui told her softly as she looked up, his own voice loosing it's rue and morose tones. "We're both faithful, but perhaps mine's a little stronger in that area than yours is. It will be a temporary separation at worst," with a smile, a pleasant facial expression. "You have your doubts, but I know that we'll meet again."
Ani knew that Nehesui's faith was stronger than hers--the Shemsu Hor evaluate candidates on their potential and individual qualities, not necessarily by seniority-- and that he did not fear death. But she'd helped so many die in hospitals, administering the Saqer drug to the dying to smooth their transition into the afterlife that she held her own special fear of death. Some distant and persistent fear told her that the drug was a sham, that there was no afterlife and no gods and no point, but she shuddered and dispelled it as she always did.
"We've been in orbit for a week, Ani. Noone anticipated that my condition had progressed so far. You should be leaving now," and he pointed toward the door to the lounge. A pair of young acolytes waited there and they bowed to her reverently, from the waist, their eyes shrouded in traditional black mascara. "If it wasn't for my condition, Ani, you would be there by now, but perhaps it's best that you bring some peace to the dying first- it's what we do."
Ani turned suddenly to him, her brown hair briefly a halo in its' transverse and opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her, reaching across the table to pat her hand once, then twice, a tender gesture from a teacher who had been more than a friend to her.
"Go, Ani. My journey is over-- there's no peace you can bring me, I know what you're thinking. I won't leave this place again. Not in this body, at any rate," he muttered, looking out the window, following the rivulets of rain with his eyes. Turning back to her, Nehesui could see her fighting to make her mask, emotion being contained within her locking features, and he smiled. "Your journey could have started a week ago, and you're late."
Ani stood without further ceremony, lower lip pursed to prevent it from betraying further emotion, turned and left the lounge. Unbeckoned visions of times spent with Nehesui in the past flowed like rain through her minds' eye, and one by one she hid them away. One of the acolytes went with her, appropriately cowed in the presence of his superior. She stopped short: "Where is the other acolyte?" she asked the young man as she turned, started back toward the lounge.
"Your reverence, he is to stay with the Sa Sesh Hor and appease his Ka through the transition through Sesheta Khaibit, the Shadows' Path of death," the young acolyte spoke to her in low, benign tones. Practiced tones. Ani could see the other acolyte now, sitting where she had been sitting at the table, the rest of the lounge now curiously empty of staff. Nehesui's' face was in his arms, resting on the table, and he was breathing in short, painful-looking gasps.
Ani had no idea that he'd been in such discomfort throughout their conversation. He didn't want to cause me any more real concern by looking the part that he was, she though, detached, and stuffed that thought away somewhere. Nehesui rose from the table slightly and saw her standing outside the portal, waved her on. He mouthed the word believe toward her and sat back in his seat, trying to regain his composure and not quite succeeding. Why doesn't he want me to stay with him as he dies?
"We must go, your reverence," the acolyte insisted at her side, head bowed in respect.
The answer suddenly came to her with brilliant clarity. He knows that I won't forget his name, that I can't. So I'm not needed here.
Without another word or glance, Ani Sebhet turned and walked away from the lounge, even leaving the surprised acolyte behind her. She passed a team of medical doctors and another priest heading the other direction down the mezzanine. The priest was looking confident as he held his scroll in one hand, a pouch that she knew contained the Saqer drug in the other. A brief cold flash traveled down the back of her neck but Ani filed that away too. She had other deaths to attend to elsewhere.
Her poor acolyte walked as fast as he could, hesitating to break decorum by actually jogging to keep up with the woman as she left the building, while Nehesui tried a final time to stand, but collapsed back against the cool metal of the table. 
KFL by Allen P Gresham is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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