Lion Head Mesa it's the same old trick, they played their hand

one would think two thralls plenty -- but for qiao, it was not enough.

she set her to-lang by the grand entrance, motioning to her guard to deposit the furskin cache of old trade goods. fermented roel jocon -- the off-season spices she'd collected upon her route.

her gaze flickered to the red stone facing as her guard announced their arrival.

qiao had come for @Sayf.

The regal took to their battlements once more, this season making a proprietorial stallion of him. He moved with the mazoi, patrolling their keep while others perched in the shadows at lower vantages.

When the call came he descended the length of the palisades preceded by his retinue. In the long arrows of Ra the obsidian king came to a lofty stand above the coyote woman, hard eyes collecting over her lean figure as royal titles lifted into the air behind him.

She came with offerings and smelled of low country spices. Her golden eyes glowed. His men stood down with a flick of ear.

“Qiao,” he tongued the modest name, “inform us of your purpose in Akashingo.”

surrounded by attendants and a guard, Toula moved to her favored place of prayer—the temple of Iset built here. their conversations had grown in frequency as of late, as Toula pondered motherhood as a growing woman with no mother of her own.
her memory of the Shabti that had been this to her, that was this to her, faded as the sands of time continued their shifting and their sifting. if only she could see her again, surely she would know her, as she knew
Qiao! one with her pressed forward to introduce to the coyote the new Pharaoh, and Toula smiled as she remembered the woman before her. yes, this woman always had the most intriguing things upon her, with her—and her father spoke very well of her, thinking her sharp and wise,
Toula remembered that too, as she looked to the woman before her! sharp indeed, as sharp as any cutting fang. you are looking very well, Toula said in earnest, I am afraid my father had left this world, before he told me of any place you may have gone. but he always spoke well of you, and I remember you fondly myself, yes, memories, rosy in hue, of Qiao moving throughout the palace… traveling and trading! 
she hoped, though, that Qiao might wish to stay again! she had always been an enigma to Toula, who continued to respect her for these memories and her fathers words of her.

it pleased qiao to be so grandly welcomed; even the pharaoh roused from their halls to meet her at the gates!

she motioned her guardsmen to step away as the retinue advanced, a voice doling out the storied epithets of the two souls that greeted her. 

no makono. 

 qiao noted, not for the first time, akashingo’s predilection for disposing those in power. the deck had been reshuffled  — who were the new kings and queens of this land with its insatiable appetite for kingsblood?

she bowed to the dark semer-wati and his moon-kissed pharaoh, the obeisance in her pose an insult to so wizened a spine. 

no sayf. no bayek. 

pharaoh. semer-wati. a custodial lowering of her head before she resumed, the scar from khaba still leering from her skull; i have returned from the red sands with the spices coveted by pharaoh ramesses, ordered before his unfortunate end.. she swept a long paw towards the peltskins carried by her guard. to toula, the once hemet-gaze briefly studied her. i tended to his body myself, pharaoh. i was only sorry i could not wake the dead myself. 

straightening just enough so that her olive gaze could behold both, qiao continued. there are other things that bring me to akashingo’s hall, great ones. her voice grew quiet, respectful yet gravid with intent. pharaoh ramesses and pharaoh makono understood my services did not come for free. both have left their debt unpaid. 

unafraid, unflinching, the priestess-hemet raised her green gaze. i have come to collect what is owed.

His wife’s loveliness radiated in such a light, the red earth contrasting the deep green singularity of her eyes. A soft breeze kissed her shoulders and the king imagined weaving his arms around her waist. His tail pitched into the air, an implication of ownership to any guards who chased too long a look.

“A friend of the palace, then,” semer-wati purled as he turned back to Qiao, a broad smile gracing his velvet lips.

“You’ll find the new monarchy always pays its debts. Come, join us for a rest. You and your company must be worn from the journey.”

the sentiment of Qiao left her speechless. Toula dipped her head in gratitude, and let Rashepses respond—his voice was her own in this. 
a look to the fellahin had those looked upon moving to prepare her quarters.

the grand sender-wati flicked his tail to the air. to qiao, he summoned to mind the likeness of an oil seep; dark, luxurious, and incredibly dangerous. 

toula remained silent, though her look to the fellahin commanded some unspoken will. qiao stepped back as they approached, collecting the pale peltskin of spices at her feet. 

she wished to press; to demand her bloodprice be paid — but there were many politics at play, and being at the foot of someone else’s gate was perhaps the most dangerous vantage to be in. 

she wordlessly motioned for her guardsmen to stay put, escorted by the fellahin now to her old keep. 

she bowed head. your grace. and then she was whisked away by the slender silhouette of the fellahin.

“Guards, show our honored visitors to the wellspring,” the regal instructed as he turned to fall in step with his wife.

“A word, my love," he whispered to Toula, pulling her gently to his side and out of the windswept pathway, where they would speak without audience.

He arched his brow at the servants, indicating they too should go on ahead.

she observed in pained silence the departure of the traveling trader, thinking still of her father. but the pain was quick to pass—he was happy, where he was! and this provided her comfort.
Toula looks to her husband, and nods to his words. with a soft smile offered to the servants as they moved on, she pressed closer to his side, comforted also by his presence. what is it, my heart? she murmured, looking to him when all company was too distant to catch even a word.

“The woman Qiao is a companion of the late court,” he turned for the privacy of his wife then, taking her small paw into the cover of his own. “I would hear what she has to say. But leveraging for power within our walls is a poor course of action— unless, of course, there is an offer to be made in return. Something more than rare spices and old stories.” A hand grazed up Toula’s forearm with all the sweetness quaffed from his words. Yes, Rashepses could be quite generous, the coyote would find.

“Tell me your mind, Iset.” his eyes streaked hotly in the light, belly aching low with the thrill of political games and now and the tempting scent of the girl under his palm.

her eyes were for him, drifting toward the paw that eclipsed her own with a smile. she loved him, this man before her, and moved nearer to him. we must understand this debt. this price that must be paid. my father was too clever a being, and my sister as much as him. both saw the wisdom in being aligned with her—and I think it far more than those things she has to offer, she breathes, gemstone gaze turning in the direction the woman had gone. 
but they both have failed her. and now my father is dead, and… her tongue stilled. Toula could still not speak the words, and would not—it felt a curse to! but Qiao could not be a woman without power herself, that father and sister both made the choices that they had. 
her gaze turned back to Rashepses. Osiris. what was on Her mind? she would not return if the sum of this debt was some small thing, she worried then. no game afoot then, not yet—she wondered if Qiao had been much more than a companion of the great court. and neither of them had shared with her any debts they two had incurred.

“We agree to an audience,” the obsidian concurred, for in his dreams he too knew the craft of the late Pharaoh Ramesses. The spread of Aten’s rays, of Mereo’s rebirth blazed in his mind. “But nothing more. The moment she passes into the red palace, she is at our mercy.”

The soldiers were doughty as of late, and so was the king. They would make short work of a wayward coyote woman with demands upon the tongue.

Rashepses raised his fiery golden eyes from Toula’s fingertips to her face, framing her chin within his palm.

“Allow me to kiss you, goddess of thrones,” he whispered in egyptian.

I’m just going to tack a conclusion on this since it’s so dated. Hope the assumptions are okay!

the great pair conversed in privacy. a memory came to qiao, dithering as it shuttered through the halls of her old mind. she was young again for a moment; her fur resplendent, gangly limbs unburdened by life’s burgeoning responsibilities. she was in a tall chamber, the waft of valley lilies floating through. and in the other room, the dark murmuring of a priest. 

her mind snapped back to the present as a guard motioned her to move. qiao obeyed, pleasant in every interaction that evening. she told the pharaoh of her plans to gather spice to the north; she asked for leave in two week’s time, and offered the option for any requests. keeping her head bowed, she was the picture of humility — but at times that night, her eyes blazed with the glitter of injustice.