Lion Head Mesa atef

The water lapped at Ramesses’ golden hair and Sihaya knew the Reverend Mothers would have coveted such a grand wolf for their operations. He had a handsome face and an impressive figure, but was he strong of mind? Sihaya sought power – autonomy over his life and others – and, perhaps, a new master to serve. One who appreciated the subtle talents of the adder. But what kind of man was Pharaoh? This answer would dictate how Sihaya would answer him.

What trade do you bring to Akashingo? The sun king asked. My queen must think fondly of you. Do you attend her court? This implied that the two weren’t close enough to talk. Did the right hand not know what the left did? Sihaya thought of the queen’s frigid expression at the funeral while Pharaoh had been flanked by Fellahin. Perhaps a union in title only.

“I was traditionally trained as a diplomat and messenger. My old family was, ah… a unique clan.” How to even begin to explain The Order? “They had ties with many surrounding packs and frequently traded bloodlines.” Sihaya’s orange eyes rolled in thought. “With that job, I heard many things… many whispers. And whispered things, myself. Reconnaissance became a skill of mine, as did inception.” Sihaya had traveled with the Proctor Superiors many time to weave superstitions into far away clans so that, one day, they would be in a superior position of power. “It is how I heard of the Pharaoh and Samurai of the Mesa,” he added.

Sihaya’s tongue pressed against the back of his teeth as he smiled at himself, musing. “I’m afraid the queen does not think too fondly of me, yet. Speculative, I believe,” Sihaya’s tone sounded robotic, analytical. “I was to spy with Crowfeather, but he left before my arrival and came back… well…. indisposed. I believe the queen feels she needs more brawn than brain to win this war.” A pause. Thinking. “So, no… I do not attend her court,” he said as his face slackened into a dishonest smile – the kind with no light or warmth in the eyes.