the youthful we'eb priest made his way that night to the rooms of
@Akhtar. his own were not far, though far less furnished.
he paused at the entryway, clearing his throat.
"teacher. i am here."
senmut would wait.
Come in.
It was not so long ago that Akhtar himself had been a youth like the boy. Stuck under a teacher.
The snake was silent. He both wanted and didn’t want it to be, but the god would not answer him, so he stalled.
Perhaps the student would pull him up again.
The man stood poised above a leafen bowl full of crushed berries, paw dripping red liquid as he considered the wall in front of him.
senmut was heavy with curiosity.
but he did not ask, nor did he stare. "today i spoke with the queen. she asked me to tell her of Wepwawet. she — wanted me to lead prayers. i said i was not high priest."
senmut fell quiet.
Senmut was young, and Akhtar did not decry him for it.
He was chuffed, however. Yes, he was head priest on some level. The Saluki peered over his shoulder at the young man, before tipping his head to invite him in further. He gave a small tisk of his tongue as he thought, eyes going back to his barren wall.
You will quickly find that if the royals want something, it is in your best interest to give it to them.
He said, voice a low murmur.
I give you the permission to do so, should she ask again. I can teach you the prayers themselves, even.
It ached, but this was a student to him. He would not see him dead for Akhtar’s own petty power grabs.
senmut was confused. was there not a sense of hierarchy here? suppose a royal wished something against the gods?
but ahktar's mysterious face was closed to him. he bowed low, confusion giving way to an elated feeling. "yes! i mean, yes, royal hem. i am honored to learn in any way from you."
He was an eager thing, a reminder of who Akhtar had been once upon a time, and he smiled to see it.
Very good. I will teach you as I was taught.
He said, eyeing the boy from one side of his face as his muzzle remained pointed up, towards the wall.
I am painting this wall today. It has remained bare for too long. This was the first thing I did as a student, so.
He gave a gentle shove of the liquid towards Senmut.
Paint something. Anything. Show the gods how you honor them.
Akhtar remembered doing this himself, though he was far younger than the boy. The priest reared back, pressing his clean paw to the wall as support, before beginning to paint something in odd, slashing lines.
semnut's mouth went dry. first his superior had been speaking about paint, and now he had the potion itself before him.
he was awed, reverent. to draw images in the language of the gods, for their eyes; it caused him to break out in such a furor sweat of devotion that he had to hold still a while to calm himself.
then then, taking up the same pose as ahktar, he swiped upward.
He almost teased the boy for taking so long to gather himself, but he thought he might explode if Akhtar did that. It didn’t stop the slight cheeky grin from breaking out, though Akhtar strained to put it away.
Ah, to have the power his own master had once wielded over him.
He put the thought away, continuing to swipe and move, occasionally dipping back down to dip his paw into the bowl, and rearing back up again. After several minutes of silence, he spoke, voice tinged sepia with nostalgia.
My mentor, when I was but a lanky limbed child, this was the first thing he taught me. Before I knew anything, any prayer, he taught me how to pray without words.
He pushed off the wall, looking at the swept lines across the red stone.
The gods know your meaning either way.
they painted in silence until the high priest began to speak, and then senmut hung on every word.
"what — what was the name of your mentor, holy one?" the young man asked hesitantly, noting how precise ahktar's creation was beside his own.
the gods knew.
he drew another line.
Izad.
He had been a good man. Loyal, but old. Too old to teach another student such as Akhtar. He had not been alive long, but the lessons he taught had kept Akhtar alive.
He gave himself an internal critical once over.
Could he become like Izad? It was probably not likely.
He was like I. Long in the face and ear. But, he had lived for a very long time. So long, in fact, he had turned mostly white and grey by the time I ended up in his care.
izad, a very old man.
"it is said that Thoth gives a new scroll of wisdom with each year a man gains," senmut said softly. he moved his paw more slowly this time across the hallowed surface.
"you are high priest. and now izad's name will live also in what you choose to teach me, holy scribe."
Akhtar gave a little smile, nothing more than just the flash of a canine, before he spoke once more.
I aim for that. Perhaps one day, I can be like Izad was to me.
He suddenly chuckled, low in his chest.
Though, perhaps not as strict. I like to think I’m more “hip with the times”.
He winked.
senmut grinned boyishly.
"you are a very fair master. you do not even beat me when i need it," he dared, though he looked quickly back to his work.
joke as he might, senmut was quite respectful of ahktar, and thankful to have been chosen to study beneath the priest.
Akhtar gave a warm laugh at that.
Oh, when I was a child, I believed Izad would beat me even when I did not need it!
He confessed with a smile to his apprentice, before brown eyes traveled to the wall itself.
I, however, look upon it with a bit of distaste. The beating, that is. I understand it, but I do not believe I could ever do it myself.
Akhtar had never been a fighting man.
senmut chuckled, his voice easy and light.
"i would have liked to meet him." another swiping. "but i enjoy that you do not beat others. if i am able to become a high priest also, i will treat my pupils with the same care."
Akhtar’s grin was rueful.
I would have liked for him to still be here.
He murmured. It would have been easier that way.
You will be a high priest one day, Senmut. I will see to it.
senmut was humbled.
"thank you, holy one."
he would remain as long as akhtar allowed, filling the room with the gentle sound of his paws upon the wall.