Stealing Sacred Fire (42 page)

‘I’ll listen to you,’ she said,
slowly, ‘but I shall know if you lie. I shall know.’ She closed her
eyes and pressed the soft feathers of the bird to her face. She
hoped that what she said was true.

The streets of Babylon were
filled with bewildered people. Public transport was stilled and the
powerful energy that had struck the temple had caused a black-out
in the city. People from every area walked silently towards the
palace walls: men, women, children, young and old. Many had
witnessed the storm and the fork of light that had struck the
temple. Others had simply heard it. Everyone sensed in their hearts
that something had happened to change their lives, but they needed
confirmation and reassurance from their king. Surely he would
address them now?

On the walls of the palace was
a balcony, high up, where sometimes the king would speak to his
people on public holidays. Now, as if by instinct the citizens
flocked towards it. The crowd was strangely subdued; they spoke in
whispers. Enormous torches were fixed to the walls on either side
of the balcony. They were lit on ceremonial occasions, and were lit
now. Sparks fled up into the darkness.

The people of Babylon saw their queen
come out onto the balcony. The king was not with her. She held up
her hands and they fell silent. ‘My beloved people, listen to my
words, for they are the words of Shemyaza, King of Heaven.’

Sarpanita waited in the shadows
beyond the balcony. How would their people take the news that
Nimnezzar and all his Magians were no longer in power? She had
learned that Tiy and Shemyaza had confronted the generals of
Nimnezzar’s army and told them what had happened on the summit of
Etemenanki. Shemyaza had told them that Sarpanita was their queen
now. If they chose not to support her, they could leave the city.
If they chose to fight for Nimnezzar, the power of the crystal key
would smite them down. Sarpanita imagined how Shemyaza must have
appeared to these cruel and violent men. The Shining One, with a
divine wrath still burning invisibly around his body. They had had
no choice. They had bowed to him.

But perhaps that had been the
easy part. The generals, and after them, the courtiers and
advisors, had ever been proficient at self-preservation. They would
accept her as queen because it was in their best interests, but how
would the populace of the city feel about this change? Would they
accept a queen instead of a king? Then there was the greater
picture: the country beyond the city, and beyond that, the world.
Her father’s fall had dramatic implications for many countries
around them. Shemyaza had told Sarpanita that the city and the
country were hers now, but she was so young to rule. At first, her
mother and Tiy would be there to advise her, and she would have a
husband to nourish her spirit. But she would need a government and
ambassadors to speak for her abroad. She had so much learn and
there would be so much to get used to. Childhood was over. Her
husband was not even human.

When Shemyaza and Tiy had come to her
in Penemue’s room, only an hour before, she had protested when they
told her she must be queen. ‘Make Penemue king,’ she said. ‘Make
Mother queen.’ This last suggestion was made in fear. She was sure
Amytis would not be pleased her daughter was to take the crown.

Shemyaza would not agree with
her, neither would Penemue, who intimated to her that he did not
want to be king. His only purpose was to love her and support her
and provide her with children, who would be kings and queens in
their own time. Tiy explained that Amytis could not rule in her
husband’s place and did not expect to. The people would not accept
her, but Sarpanita had been a special child, ritually conceived.
Now, she must assume her responsibility.

‘You will not be alone in
this,’ Tiy said. ‘I and Penemue have a journey to make with
Shemyaza, but when we return, we will be here to sustain and
counsel you. We shall gather those left of your father’s court who
will remain loyal to you. They will help you find the right men and
women to form a government. But this is a time of change,
Sarpanita, and you must learn to become strong very quickly. Do not
forget this was always your destiny. You were born for it, and will
be able to call upon resources you did not realise you had.’

Hearing this, Sarpanita felt
reassured, but there were other demons of doubt poised to strike.
‘What about my father and the others? What must happen to them?’
She imagined potential enemies then; blind, bitter men plotting in
the dark against her.

‘The Magians will be returned
to their own temples,’ Shemyaza said, ‘to suffer whatever penalty
their superiors feel necessary. You must deal justly with the
guards and the servants and make provisions for them.’

Sarpanita glanced up at him.
‘You should not have hurt them.’

Shemyaza gazed back at her steadily.
‘No, I should not, but the power your father had me conjure is
beyond moral judgements. He bade me invoke it, and it possessed
me.’

‘You knew what would happen.
You could have refused…’

‘Your father hurt himself,’ Tiy
said, before Shemyaza could answer. ‘Shemyaza was just the
catalyst. And Nimnezzar had had him beaten.’

Shemyaza raised his brows at
her. ‘What he did to me is of minor importance. The major issue is
what Babylon represents and must become. This land is where
civilisation began, and now it will take centre stage in the world
once more.’ He turned back to the princess. ‘This is a time of
sadness for you, but also one of celebration. Tonight, you shall be
married. Be at peace, Sarpanita. Enjoy this time, for you have work
ahead of you. Your children are destined to become world leaders,
just and fair. This will be your gift to the future. Your first
task will be to make peace with the Yarasadi and end the eternal
war between your people and them. It will be an example to other
nations.’

The first task of many
difficult tasks. Now, standing out of sight, behind the balcony
curtains, Sarpanita felt sick with fear, yet also elated. She was
sorry for her father, who had lost his sight and his kingdom, but
knew in her heart that he had been proud and cruel. He should not
have dared to challenge Shemyaza. If he had been less arrogant, and
had not put Penemue in chains or treated Shemyaza so badly, he
would have been out on the balcony now, but he had lost his
chance.

Outside, her mother had fallen
silent. Sarpanita could feel the presence of the crowd — her people
— although they too made no sound. They were waiting. She saw
Amytis turn round and beckon to her. ‘Come, Nita. Don’t be
afraid.’

It took an eternity to walk the short
distance out into the torch-light. Below, an ocean of eyes looked
up at her
,
filled with the reflections of flames. They
covered the great square before the palace, and the roof-tops of
surrounding buildings. They filled the trees. She felt totally
alone, naked before the expectations of the masses.

Then Amytis spoke. ‘All hail,
Queen Sarpanita! All hail!’

And the crowd raised their arms
and roared. Whatever Amytis had said, she had succeeded in touching
the hearts of their people.

Sarpanita smiled back at them,
mostly terrified. Her regency would not be easy, she knew. Below
her, the people were filled with excitement and fervour, but in the
morning, they would reflect upon what had happened. She would be
breaking a long tradition of male rulers, and some would find that
hard to take. But for now, she basked in their cheers and thought
of Penemue who waited for her at the palace, and of tonight, when
she would begin to learn the secrets of love.

Cairo, Egypt

Pharmaros and Kashday had no doubt that
they had shed their old lives for good. They had been living in the
city for a couple of months now, running up an account at the
Rameses Hilton, living off their diminishing credit. They spent
their time making excursions out to ancient sites. On one occasion,
they indulged themselves in a cruise up the Nile, although this had
been a trip fraught with hazard. They had seen fighting taking
place in the villages along the river banks. They had seen bodies
polluting the sacred waters. Eventually, the boat had turned back
to Cairo. It was no longer possible to pretend the country was in
anything but a state of war. Rival Islamic factions fought
bitterly. Westerners were killed every day, yet still they flocked
to Egypt. The pull of the ancient land and the significance of the
turning millennium was too strong.

‘I can’t bear it,’ Pharmaros
said, as the boat moved swiftly back to the city. They stood on the
deck in the dark, watching the water. ‘I don’t want to be here. I’m
afraid.’

Kashday kissed her and tried to
comfort her. ‘It won’t be for long. It will soon be over. We have
to stay; you know that.’

‘But where are the others?’
Pharmaros asked. ‘There must be others like us.’ She glanced at
Kashday with cautious eyes. ‘Shemyaza. Where is he? Is he alive, do
you think?’

It was the first time either of
them had spoken his name. Kashday had wondered in silence whether
Shemyaza’s long exile was now over. If so, they could expect
something momentous to occur. Shemyaza, in the past, had ever been
associated with disruption. Kashday put his arm around Pharmaros.
‘My love, that ancient business… It was never ended. We might have
lived and died a thousand times, but what happened so long ago has
never been resolved. It has been hanging over us.’

Pharmaros leaned her head
against his shoulder. ‘Not more suffering. It isn’t fair. We are
different people now. It might as well have not happened to
us.’

Kashday’s eyes were distant as
he gazed into the water. ‘We let Shemyaza take responsibility for
all our actions. Our punishments were mild in comparison to
his.’

Pharmaros shuddered. ‘Then, if he lives
again, he will hate us now.’

‘Hush now.’ Kashday squeezed
her shoulder. ‘I said that nothing bad will happen to us, and I
meant it. We must have faith.’

‘I remember him,’ Pharmaros
murmured. ‘Do you? When they made us watch his execution?’

‘Yes,’ Kashday answered grimly.
‘I remember.’ He did not want to talk about it; the memory was far
from comfortable.

‘He had become a monster,’
Pharmaros said. ‘His face was that of a lunatic. I denied him. I
hated him. I blamed him.’

‘Yes. Yes.’ Kashday pulled her
closer. He closed his eyes. Her words were painful, yet he sensed
he must let her purge herself.

‘We didn’t know what we were
doing. We were so young, and he was so forceful. He made me think
it was right to teach humanity and to take a human wife. I was
filled with the zeal of youth, of rebellion. I had no idea how
terrible the consequences would be.’

‘None of us did,’ Kashday said.
‘Not even Shemyaza himself.’

Pharmaros shook her head. ‘No.
He knew what he was doing. He manipulated us.’ She pulled away from
Kashday’s arm. ‘Kash, I hope that what we have to do doesn’t
involve him. I hope he’s still dead and stays dead. I don’t want to
go through any of that again.’

‘Nor I.’ Kashday pulled her
close again. ‘We must strengthen each other.’

Back in Cairo, they resumed
their cautious existence, although the strain was beginning to show
upon Pharmaros’ face. Nearly every night, she dreamed of Shemyaza
and woke up weeping. She became obsessed with the idea that he was
about to walk back into their lives and bend their will to his.

Kashday was mercifully free of this
fear. He had an open mind about what might happen to them, and if
that included Shemyaza, then so be it. He did not fear Shemyaza and
never had. Pharmaros had been different. In the past, Shemyaza had
always intimidated her and this still haunted her. Secretly,
Kashday hoped that Shemyaza would appear, although he kept this to
himself. His dreams concerned the more recent past. In one of them,
he returned to his home in Little Moor, Long Eden, and there met a
young woman in the garden. His daughter. Helen’s daughter. She was
very beautiful; a fey and wistful girl. In his waking hours he
could not stop thinking of her, because he knew that somewhere in
the world she was alive. The Parzupheim had stolen her from him, by
stealing his life. He believed that the dream of her was, in some
way, real. He was sure that, once, his daughter had gone looking
for him at Long Eden and had found only a ghost.

As the days passed, Pharmaros
incubated new fears. She became convinced that members of the
Parzupheim were looking for them, perhaps to imprison them or
worse. ‘Why did our memories return? Why were we driven to come
here? We were supposed to stay ignorant and we didn’t. They’ll hunt
us down now, won’t they?’

Kashday had no answers, but he
became infected by Pharmaros’ rising sense of paranoia. They were
in Egypt for a reason, and because they did not yet know what it
was, they were prey to the wildest ideas. They lived like exiled
criminals; eyes over newspapers, ever alert.

On the eve of Yule — a festival
that seemed irrelevant in the hot land of Egypt — they went out for
their habitual evening meal. They had not long returned from
Sakkara and were still discussing the sights they had seen there.
It seemed that while they’d been away even more people had flocked
to Cairo in preparation for the coming millennium celebrations.
This perpetual influx had created a further surge in political
tensions. In the newspaper that day, they had read of terrorist
threats to bomb the sphinx. Would that ever happen?

Pharmaros stirred her coffee
and said, ‘I know we’ve discussed this before, but we have to face
facts. We can’t stay here for ever. We’ll soon run out of
credit.’

Kashday nodded. ‘I know, but
something will happen by the end of the year.’