Chapel Orahamm

The air lay hot and sticky at the tip of my tongue. High summer in the capital had finally made itself known. Nile bay was steaming under the dome panels. Our vents and fans had been malfunctioning for some time now, ever since my late father, the last Pharoah, had commanded troops in his youth. The chugging wrrrr of the overhead machinery was a soft, common din to the everyday events of wind and birds.

I pulled myself out of my immense bed, bare feet sinking into a thick carpet. Light filtered through stagnant curtains, casting gold rectangles on crimson red furnishings. Incense clung thick to the rafters overhead, hiding the smell of my sweat. I had an hour before I had to be ready for my morning rituals at the temple.

“Bring me Seth.” I ordered to an empty room. Scurrying feet on the other side of the door told me that my lord-in-waiting had been standing there listening. A set of serving women made there way into my chambers where they filled a deep tub with perfumed water. I stepped into it, thankful to cool off.

The women were half through cleaning my hair when a knock announced my lord-in-waiting. “Seth, my Pharoah.” He entered and motioned in the undefinable individual. A short waif, their hair dropped clear to the floor. A lady-in-waiting followed close behind them.

They ducked a greeting in my direction, waiting to be given direction. “Seth, come sit.” I pointed them to an ornate chair that sat near the tub.

“As you wish, my Pharoah.” They carefully folded themself onto the plush red cushion. Regarding my nudity with indifference, their deep black eyes set off their pixie like features. Black robes draped across the upholstery, adding a chill to the room.

“Tell me, Seth, about the man who has been sent for Last Rights.” I relaxed into the fingers working the ringlets of my hair. One of the women’s hands were particularly cold, which was bringing the room’s incessant heat down.

“As you wish, my Pharoah.” They took a letter from their robe sleeve and unrolled it. “His name is Amari. He is untrained, so still a low wab, though he has been with the temple since he was a toddler; his family having signed him over when they did not have the finances available to feed him. He is now turned twenty.”

“That is well beyond a time to have been trained for the Temple. Has he shared cups, or is set to then?” I closed my eyes to enjoy the break from the heat.

“It does not say.”

“But he is here for Last Rights. This is the same man who was caught helping Ustor escape from Nympha?”

“Yes, my Pharoah.” He continued to look over the scroll.

“What else does it say?” I had read the scroll the night before, but sometimes Seth caught things that I did not see.

“The congregation opposed his execution, instead sending him for Last Rights as an attempt to put him in front of you to seek forgiveness for his sins against the people. Though his priest does not support the movement.” Seth summarized a section for me.

“Which means that he does well by the people and his higher ups are jealous or afraid of him?” I offered.

“That is to be seen, my Pharoah. If it is as such, a swift end will maintain the status of the Priest’s Order, but may lead to rebellion of one of the southern temples if they come to know he was executed after Last Rights. If instead he is forgiven of his transgressions, the people may press to replace their Priest, which will make them more ready to follow you, but-”

“The Order will take up a position against me,” I surmised. Seth nodded. I waived away the workers and dismissed my lord-in-waiting and Seth’s lady-in-waiting. Once my chamber had quieted I turned back to Seth. “Have you seen him?”

“Briefly.”

“Your thoughts?”

“He is no more than bones. The southern temple he comes from is either underfunded – which would indicate embezzlement from a higher rank in the Order, or he has suffered abuse from someone within the temple with-holding daily rations.” Seth shrugged out of their over robe and pulled their hair up with a ribbon. Fanning their neck, they revealed just how warm they had been in their customary outfit.

“May he be ill? Contagious or terminally sick to contribute to such features?”

“He looked to be in a state of shocked acceptance, but I could not see anything of his continence that would indicate a sickness. Save for requesting a doctor perform a physical, which is not considered necessary for Last Purification, I could not tell you if he may suffer from a disease that leads to such features,” Seth admitted.

“I am leary to perform another administration of Last Rights, Last Purification, Seth. Nebra and you both came to me through it. The nobles are becoming agitated that my concubines are being found through the Temple and not through them,” I confided.

“The Rear Palace is full of noble daughters waiting for the moment you are read to take them at your beck and call.”

“To become empress when one presents me with a son!”

“It has already been years since your father left us and you came into possession of his-”

“Fifteen years since he made me Pharoah. And he kept his home in the Rear Palace. On his passing I waited the prerequisite year to ensure that no more children were born before returning the women to their homelands and sending my siblings to schools across the country to act as representations of my will. And then I waited the next year as a time of mourning. Only now have I come into possession of the Rear Palace because of the nobles fighting over the heirarchy. The women have all been replaced and I have been made to mourn my father once more,” I dropped my voice. “But, Seth. We’re going to have an issue soon if I must start visiting them nightly.”

“I won’t. I’ve told you before to go enjoy the views.”

“I can’t conceive,” I hissed under my breath. Seth quieted. It was a thorn in my side and a source of one of my biggest anxieties. It was not me that would be looked at for the concubines remaining barren. “I am running out of time, and options. Adding another male to the Rear Palace will not go unheard. Ptolemy was already too much by their standards, especially by way of me interfering with them from divesting him of his manhood. He was my first concubine, well before the Rear Palace became available to me. Consolation was barely won recently in establishing his private house in the gardens rather than being sent to the Rear Palace where as a concubine he otherwise should have gone.” I flicked a thumb over my back toward where a massive koi pond lay outside of my chambers. “The Southern Temple may revolt, the Priests Order may conspire, the Nobles have already been making moves. In all routes, there is no harmony. I cannot take him. The Nobles and the Priests are more likely to undermine my authority than a small village.”

“If we are to speak of precedent, my Pharoah, bringing me to your chambers daily is also unheard of. I should be in the Rear Palace now with you instead visiting me. This is meant to be a sacred place where we concubines are not supposed to visit.”

“You are my advisor and concubine, Seth. And I do not trust all the servants of the Rear Palace to keep their lips shut,” I confided, a side eye toward our door where my Lord-in-Waiting and their Lady-in-Waiting most likely stood.

“Ptolemy, Nebra, please join us,” Seth pitched their voice up. My Lord-in-Waiting opened the door and allowed Seth’s Lady-in-Waiting in.

“My Pharoah?” Ptolemy sank with a bow, his golden mane gleaming in the morning sunlight. Nebra, her towering height competing with Ptolemy’s, settled behind her charge’s chair.

“I must face an instance of Last Rights shortly. I value your opinion in this matter, if I come to find this man Amari to be one I should save.”

“I am not sure that the Nobility will keep you from interfering as you did last time, Henu.” Ptolemy’s voice hitched.

“No. I cannot see them doing so. There is a need for them to know that their daughters bear only royal blood so as to curry favor with my house. I cannot afford to keep yet another personal retainer with the title of concubine like you. They made that incredibly clear they would not take any more chances without outright revolt,” I agreed.

Nebra shivered at the prospect. I nodded at her reaction.

Ptolemy ventured, “If you save him, he will have to-”

“I’m aware.”

“And you’ll be made to preside over his procedure. That was the agreement you made with the Nobility when you saved me as trade.”

“Thank you,” I snarled at him. I hated being reminded of that fact.

“There are other eunuches in the Palace. They are common enough, my Pharoah,” Ptolemy tried to placate my growing frustration.

I groaned, “I have tried to find my routes out of having it performed.”

“There are no routes out, Henu. They just aren’t slaves from your father’s generation anymore. Instead, they are intelligent men who pass exams to show their worth, but ruin their prospects at passing along a family.”

“Not true, Ptol. To even be eligible for the exams, they must provide proof of a living son and daughter of more than six years of age each to proceed,” Seth corrected him.

Ptolemy frowned at that. He apparently had not heard of the adjustments I had made to the requirements within the first month of taking on my father’s mantle. “That doesn’t sound any better.”

A knock came at the door.

Seth rose. “It is time.” They went to the door and gave instructions for those on the other side to wait as I dressed.

I rose in frustration from my bath. Ptolemy and Nebra immediately helped me towel off while I cinched my shendyt down with a wide leather belt. They tugged on my black robes over my skirts. The bell sleeves drooped well to the floor, dragging to remind myself I was chained to this outrageous destiny. Seth joined me in my efforts to be dressed, helping to drape a massive black usekh across my collarbone. 

“What is with these ceremonies, Seth? Why? Why do nobles insist on them? They aren’t even related to where our ancestors came from on Earth. We’re comprised of a bunch of Eastern Europeans and East Asian peoples. The common people’s language isn’t even a language. It’s pigin. It’s some weird blend of Korean, Japanese, Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Latvia. Why the hell did this segment of Joiner Petroleum’s board decide it would behoove the people to participate in a culture that has nothing to do with where they came from?” I hissed, fingering the obsidian stones inlaid into silver housing.

“And this is the problem with a Pharaoh having an ancient history degree,” Seth quipped, flicking my fingers and retwisting my necklace for me.

I sighed the point.

“We’ve talked this out before. It is what it is.” They pulled the collar of my robes tighter under the necklace and helped with the belt.

“Nympha is comprised of Native and Latin American populations, and Joiner nobility celebrates Norse religions. Why Ancient Earth religions so far removed from the majority of the population? Or Angelus, who were originally from the Middle East and India and now follow the old Roman and Greek gods? What the hell are they thinking?” I whispered under my breath at their fidgeting.

“I’m your advisor, Henu, not your philosophy muse. You’re mad about the Last Rights, bring your focus back to that.” They nailed my problem on the head and pointed me to a low stool.

“I hate these presumptive ceremonies.” I squatted down to the stool, my knees cracking.

“The wab?” Their fingers tugged through my thick brown curls. I nodded mutely, pulling at the edges of my robe.  “He rescued a mother and her child.  The baby burned her house down, and she would not give her up. The boy – barely a man at that – caused a distraction such that the two were able to escape into the labyrinth. He’s to fulfil the morning ceremony with the lectern as his last penance to purify himself within your light before meeting his fate, whichever that may be.” Seth reiterated as they twisted the mass of ringlets into some semblance of a bun at the back of my head. It’d all be taken down shortly, but I appreciated the ritual. The summary grounded me in my path forward. I knew walking into this that the wab most likely would be dead by the evening’s ceremonies.

Seth tapped my shoulder when done and leaned over to draw his arms around me in a reassuring hug. 

“Thanks, love.” I kiss their forehead before rising and heading for the door. They caught my fingers in question.  I gave them a reassuring smile. Seth placed a glowing coal in a silver dish in my hand.

Seven white-robed priests met me in the hall, their heads draped in gauze that swept to their knees. Creepy spooks. I don’t think I’d ever get used to their dawn appearance. Having resided as Pharaoh king of Hawria for over fifteen years, I still was not ready for all the religious rites I was made to participate in. I bowed to them formally, and they returned the ritual. I presented the coal Seth had handed me to the one priest holding the incense burner and lit the sticks within.

Fifteen years back, I had been chosen by the last Pharaoh to take his place. He enjoyed his retirement years until his finally days while I started finding silver threads in my hair by the day. I was no more than the Sirdar for his royal battalion to command outside of the military.

Ptolemy, Fariq of the Hawria military, had been a close friend due to our comings and goings. In the Cliff War when rebellion from some of the nobles rose against my newly acquired status, a protester blew Ptolemy’s leg off. He was slated for discharge and would have ended up homeless. Instead, he now occupied my bed and ran my military for me. He, however, could not join me in the rituals of the temple the priests were dragging me off towards for the billionth time. My concession to the nobles of Joiner: leave the temple intact for the sake of the people. I was still a heretical heathen, but by allowing the rituals to continue, the nobles felt their position retained and left the people from conscripted militia services.

We proceeded through my hall overlooking the rocky cliff above the bay of Nile.  Lattice work blocked off the kaleidoscopic refraction of the dome panels’ bombardment of solar radiation, diffusing sparkling ripples across the opposite wall. The oozing purples and greens brushed against red lacquer columns bolstered by climbing cerulean dragons and mythical gold birds. Waving blades of cattails and marsh grasses painted lovingly into plaster walls danced in the dim hint of dawn. Tugging fingerlings of agarwood and sandalwood smoke drifted around me as we emerged from my compound into the back courtyards and buildings behind the temple of Re. The punch of sea salt echoed against the biodome wall. The slap of waves at the shore, distant behind the bustle of the temple staff preparing for the Lighting of the Fire and Drawing of the Bolt.

The priests ducked into the backside of the Temple under a black-painted lintel with silver charms and wards painted in a flowing mix of hieroglyphics and kanji. The hallway, cast in shadows and flickering light, intoxicated the senses. Incense burners twitched amongst the rafters, wafting heady smoke throughout the complex. I was ushered, as I was every morning, into the back door to a gold-gilded chamber, reflectively bright and warm compared to the hallway I had left. Inside sat a gilded rattan chair and a massive bowl with scented waters. Torches lit the back wall in the tight space. A larger burner of cast iron and gilding filled with incense and aromatic wood waited for the coal in my priests’ hands.

“The Lord approaches to bring forth the morning,” a scratchy tenor of an old man scuttled outside the front entrance of the chamber.

“May the morning come forth to bless the land with fruitfulness,” I responded, signalling to the lectern to open the front doors and get this blasted ceremony done with. Like every morning, the lectern – Adom, entered, followed by four other priests and wab, who each carried aspects to my wardrobe. This wouldn’t be too bad, if not for the part that I was ceremonially bathed and dressed in front of the early morning temple congregation that gathered to pray. I emerged for the beginning of the celebration of the lighting of the first flame of the day. The congregation in the chamber would be provided with a lit coal to take home to start their fires with. 

The vessel took, sparks shattering as the flames rolled up over the mouth of the pot for a moment before turning to a soft smoulder. The flicker undulated against the gilding of my little box as I returned to my seat to wait for the Drawing of the Bolt. Servants waited along the step edges that ran the length of the massive hall outside of my box with baskets and plates of food. The people would be waiting to take the blessed bread back to feed their families.

One of the wab was new today. Not something I would normally notice, but this man was different from most that I had seen flow through this ceremony. He must be the wab sent for his last purification. A white shock of hair burst at the front of his hairline to disrupt midnight black curls. Eyelashes were half white nearest to his nose and glossy black at the far edges. A favourite jewel of mine, his eyes were two-toned alexandrite beneath the downcast lashes.

I contemplated every old person bowing in my presence while I tried my damnedest to not fixate on the man’s strange beauty. A satin complexion, he could have served in any noble household on aesthetics alone. Instead, he wore the wab robes of someone raised within the halls of the lower temples in the mountains of the south. The deep blue embroidery on white showed he was marked as pure, not having been betrothed out to another temple for solidifying ties. I had to wonder at that. He was well beyond the age to have already shared cups between another.

Maybe I should murder Adom, the lectern. Fingers and scented water splayed across my skin and if I had to swallow once more, I was going to start coughing from dry throat. Last purifications my pharaonic butt. Adom didn’t care, but there were enough people within the temple who didn’t want this man killed, or else he would not be standing here. This was the people outside of the nobility’s ring asking for me to keep him safe. Put him in front of me and have me draw a line of pity, a wall around him.  I was already known to favour those that were purified in last rights. Most often, so as not to upset my main adversaries, I tended to banish those of last rights to the temples in the surrounding mountainsides where they would minister to the salt miners. Seth and Nebra had both come to me during Last Purifications.

Cold water. Cold shower. Give me the ice at the bottom of the Nile seas. Who had thought to leave the incense burners on all night? Sweat beaded at my hairline, and he had yet to lift his eyelashes. He wasn’t exactly supposed to look me in the eye. No one else was, so it shouldn’t be new to my expectations, but I wanted to see what his soul looked like. Was there stone or a feather at his core? Would I see a coiled viper or a nested fawn?

One of my few rare gifts that had landed me here in this golden box naked in front of a congregation of a few thousand every cursed morning since Ramses had retired. If I could meet someone’s glance, I could see the lies behind their face. Uncomfortable as the fires of the underworld, it had saved me a number of times getting knifed in the gut, and had proved useful in trade negotiations. 

Those who truly believed in the ancient ways remade to fit the nobles’ desires called me The Coming of Osirus. Others could do what I did. I was just high enough in the pecking order that people took notice. There was a school I had implemented within the palace temple for those who were considered children of Osirus when enough parents had come forward with children who showed a similar talent. They were not my personal progeny. A war wound had seen to that never happening. The children were those brought in from the villages. We were open and honest to a fault and expected it of others. Subterfuge was frustrating and wasted on us. If not for my strangeness and desire to see a school, many of those like me were left to become solitary people, drifters away from society. We made others uncomfortable. They made us uncomfortable.

Desperate, I needed to know what the alexandrite eyes held. Closer now, his nose and cheeks were flecked with dark freckles and bright white speckles. His cheekbones splotched red as his gaze swept my skin. He settled rings on my right-hand fingers along with a series of bangles. He hesitated at each glancing touch, pearled teeth tugging at his bottom lip. Each soft caress left me feeling like my soul was drifting, slipping, dropping from my skin.

Dressed, I stood to graciously bow to those sprawling the floor below me to finish the ceremony. Servants along the steps approached with the food to be blessed. Wine and bread. This was one of the few moments where I publicly served rather than be served. I poured out the painted decanter into six small glasses. The first I handed to Adom and in turn circled to each of the four wab who had seen to my morning ritual. They each sank to the ground upon receiving their cups and drank. The bread I broke into six pieces and fed each the lectern and the wab their pieces. I left my own on the tray as was usual. I myself would not be eating the food here in the hall, but instead, as the people saw, consume the essence of it.  By blessing the first food to be consumed by the lectern and the wab, I blessed them to see to the purity of the food they then distributed amongst the people while I stood watching.

The wab wading through Last Purifications was diligent in his work, seeing to the elders and working carefully with the dependents to drink and eat their first meals of the day. Soft, his patience with those who needed time was modest, not an exhibition seeking approval as were the other wab that Adom oversaw. Light, his voice carried clearly in the crowd even as he whispered. The others hurried, with dismissal or frustration with those who had come. Grimaces of disapproval and derision marked them as they tugged and fought the current of the people who sat, waiting.

I thought the ceremony slow, but as I surveyed the hall, it occurred to me that more and more of the servants were rearranging their orders to pass along their baskets and plates of glasses to this man who, in his effort to take care of each person he saw, was getting through his roster faster than the other wab. The supplicants of the temple took notice. Adom’s wab were being refused administration, the people instead motioned to the man whose humility and care seeped into their souls. 

None met my eyes, and in that moment, I watched as faces shifted from confusion and dismissal to frustration and hatred. Adom and his entourage were fighting a losing war against one man who cared for the people with every fiber of his being. The people knew who came to them without malice, without predetermined motives. They knew when they were not stepping stones to be used to advance the narratives of another. And they were making it known.

 A large gong trilled as the last of those in the rows were fed. It announced the supplicants would be able to collect their blessed bread upon leaving. More often than not, those who came to the early morning blessing of the sun, they were not here to quench their theological thirst, but instead to fill their stomachs. The elderly, the dependent, those that no longer had someone to see to their care often used this time as their way to survive another day. Ramses had seen to this when the nobility almost crushed the soul of the people in the Cardinal Wars. This kept the temple intact, kept the populace at peace, and kept the nobility pacified.

Bread, though was not enough to fill the man. Spirituality was not enough to cow him. Hope was what the people needed. For years now, I had fought out the subtle game between the temples and the nobles to keep the rest from drowning. I needed hope. 

Garan and Sev were both vying for position. They retained the largest possession of fine metal and mineral resources in the north and south mountain ranges that boarded the dome edges. They held factions that followed them closely, and they were none too subtle at the prospect of overturning the pharaoh to gain control of more unpaid labour. The wab in question had come from Sev’s domain.

The box of my bathing suite was opened further, the front double doors and the two sides folded away to my right and left to leave me in the empty throne room. My golden furnishings were withdrawn and replaced with new white while I stood, waiting.

Ptolemy entered the throne room, dressed for the day in fine linens and a necklace a touch less ostentatious than mine. Nebra had seen to an intricate braid for his flaxen mane. He bowed in deference to my station. I waived him to his usual seat on the steps at my feet.

“My Lord!” Adom, the chief lectern, high-acting priest of the capital temple, took up his position once the rituals had settled. I motioned for him to continue. The piebald man with the blaze and stripe was escorted between two other wab to a spot behind Adom and forced to kneel. “I come to you today with a sinner looking for the last purification. He was caught aiding the children of fire in escape. This dangerous act of defiance against the people of Nile puts all of us at risk in the future. We come to you today to ask forgiveness of his foolishness and that he may be blessed upon his death. He meant not to hurt any involved, seeking to protect all living creatures as is our way, but in his folly, he has placed us at risk.”

I regarded the lectern and the lying viper that twisted beneath his features. It was the slide of his eyes, the set of his mouth that gave away his hatred of the Ustor. He thought them abomination and sought council within the nobility upon restrictions to implement within the legislation. He conducted his services in such a way as those around him would not immediately realize his prejudice, but I had endured his tyranny often enough to consider him a thorn in my side when it came to implementing regulations that would lead to a bettering of the people’s lives, all peoples.

The alexandrite man could have been a leaf in autumn upon the floor, he shivered so. The wab at his sides both flicked disgusted glances at him. “His foolishness might be attributed to his lack of possessing an entire soul, My Lord. I would ask you, no, beg you, to grant him this Last Purification as a blessing to provide him with peace upon his last breath. He will not ascend to the next plane as he is, and it would be too cruel otherwise to leave what little there is of his soul to shatter before it could ever reach your scale.” Adom bowed low.

“Bring him to me.” I sent Ptolemy with an indifferent flick of my fingers. I would need to find the strengths of this man to pass judgement upon him, to know where to hide him. Adom said a half-soul. I would need to explore this concept further with Seth. He would know what the lectern meant by that statement.

Ptolemy rose from his lounged position and descended to the tiles where he stalked the four wab. The standing men and the woman scuttled back, bowing to his station. He pulled the man on the floor up by his wrist, the wab squeaking at the suddenness before muffling his protest. “Your name, wab?” Ptolemy demanded, his voice harsh and accusing.

“A-Amani, my name is Amani, sir.” The wab tried to bow and walk at the same time while Ptolemy dragged him to me, having him kneel on the lowest step of my dais, a knee in his back.

“You may go, Adom. I shall send a retainer with my decision.” I dismissed the chief lectern. I was not in the mood to make a decision of such importance in front of the priest. He would question and punch holes in anything I tried to say. If it was handed over in writing, he would not argue. A strange habit of his. If it was written down, he treated it as law without question.

“Sir?” He flicked a nervous glance between the wab and myself.

“You think one untrained priest would be enough to fell your pharaoh? You do not trust your faith enough, I would point out, if you were to be seen by your mass.” I twisted the rings on my fingers, casting sparks in the morning light.

“Yes, sir.” He cowered at the reprimand before backing himself out of the chamber, followed closely by the other priests and wab.

“Now, for you.” I turned my attention to the man Ptolemy was holding onto for me.

“My Lord?” Amani bowed further under Ptolemy’s knee.

I rose from my throne and descended the steps, my slippers slick on the polish. Standing on the same step he knelt on, I contemplated his curls and my options. Raising an eyebrow at Ptolemy, he returned the glance and let go of the man. I knelt down to the wab’s level while my bodyguard’s hand settled on his sword hilt. It was here and now that I chose his path, whether it be in my private chambers or in a pool of blood at my feet.

I slipped a hand beneath Amani’s coils of black and white curls to find his cheek and drift to his jawline. He flinched at the contact. “Meet my eyes, wab.” They wanted me to pass judgement. I needed to find his soul first. What looked back at me was neither fawn nor viper. I found instead the ember at the end of an incense stick before the ash crumbled. A spark waiting to be the wildfire on the mountain side. I smiled at that buried flame. “I might just find a good use for you yet, wab.”

• Copyright Chapel Orahamm LLC. Do not reproduce this writing or art in any form.
• Cover art for book reviews belongs to the author and their commissioned artist.
• No AI was used in the making of this post, book, or art.
• I do not consent to the use of my writing in training any form of AI.