Lion Head Mesa [m] signet

"it is a new type of senet i have devised," pharaoh told @Nazli. he had summoned her earlier, and after a light meal with no drink this time, he had announced they would play this. now his head bent over a game-board, and he showed her the four small stones of different colors.
"you throw one. see. this is red. it means i am able to move three spaces," and he showed her two black stones, the pieces themselves, on a strip of matting etched with light lines. "the winner is whomever reaches the end of the twenty spaces first."

The stones laid out before her made her think of the pretty blue trinket that Senmut had given her, days ago.

She tries to focus; the pharaoh wanted to play this game and that kept him occupied as well as happy, and also put distance between Nazli and the thought of her maidenhood, which were all good things.

So it is a... race? As she asks this, she waits for the prompt that it is her turn and reaches for a stone.

ramesses, having a specific perception and expertise in touch, sensed nazli's trepidation.
there was no pleasure in fear. he was an artist, not a barbarian.
and so he nodded warmly, reclining as she moved her paw toward the board. "yes. a race. and a counting game."
"the red stone is three spaces. the yellowish pebble, two. and this blue one, this is seven spaces. all sacred numbers to us and to the gods."
his smile was a mantle of fine linen which he draped around her. "go first, nazli."

From her own lessons and learned values, Nazli thought it curious that the blue stone would be counted for so much. She saw of the stones and their colors, the sun, the sand, and the sky there in blue; but, maybe it had to do with the expanse of the sky itself. In that case, why didn't the red stone count for more? The sands of Akashingo went for miles!
She could've asked, but didn't.
Instead Nazli took the stone as she was shown and rolled it, her mind buzzing.

he watched her in that moment, the contours of her face and the studious expression on her features.
what had makono called her? lilac.
he did not glance toward the board. "how many spaces were you granted to move?"

The stone tumbled.
When asked, Nazli squinted down at the result and counted in her head, moving her lips as she did the quick mental math. It would be an adjustment to learn this game.'
I think... Seven? She wasn't sure; was the point to throw the stone close to the others, or throw all three? Had she already failed to follow through with this new thing?
Flustered over this, her face pinches in a tight smile. She had almost forgotten already who she played with and when she looked up from the board, was surprised to find Ramesses watching her.

seven; he chuckled. "i forgot to tell you to cast two colorful stones together!" a chuff to his mistake; he moved her piece seven spaces on the board in payment for his error.
"now," eyes holding hers a moment longer; ramesses tossed each stone: red and yellow, five spaces.
"on your next turn, you must choose another combination of colors. for instance i could not choose red and yellow again, i must do yellow and blue or red and blue." thus the numbers changed. "it is still a work!"

Oh! That made more sense. She still felt so mindless for her blunder, but she watched the stones move and was eager for another turn.
When granted, Nazli chose the red and the blue this time, but paused, and then replaced the blue with yellow - I used the blue before, so this time I will do this, and the game would be taken in turns from then on.
More math. Five spaces.
It seemed advantageous to alternate, to use the blue as often as possible. Again she wondered why the blue stone was of such value, but put that questioning aside in favor of tactics.

ramesses took his turn. "nine spaces." he moved his senet piece, pleased to see her ahead of him. 
another turn; "five spaces."
courtcraft; "what do you think of the prince charles?"

The pieces were moving.
Nazli was so intent on knowing the game and doing well with it, she did not notice as the conversation shifted. It was a fun game but she was not used to doing quick math, and so she lagged a little with that.
As to the question, she answered simply, He has always seemed unhappy here, and then realized how the genuine comment might be misconstrued, or thinking herself rude for making it, she blushed. She moved a stone.
—but otherwise, he is a fine neb. One who happened to like his drinks, she thought, but having recently tried the fine wine herself Nazli could see no fault in it; she was innocent.

"five spaces." ramesses allowed nazli's piece to race ahead. she spoke earnestly, counting between. and her face flushed rose a moment. 
pharaoh laughed softly. "he is unhappy here as well as lazy," he said matter-of-factly. "but he is mine." in all ways, for charles' late-night visits to his chambers were not hidden.
"he is in need of a purpose as all men must have."

So, it truly was obvious. Ramesses did not correct her, and she felt free for a moment of the guilt.
Stones rolled, pieces moved again, again. Nazli did not know what to say - but she was thinking, counting, and only after had a thought about Charles.
What is the purpose of neb? Perhaps he craves adventure as a mazoi...? But of course, why would anyone trade the luxury of palace living with that of the warriors, in their stony barracks? Charles did not appear suited to the long night's watch, or the frequency of patrols.
Nazli struggles to keep the game and the talk separate, and her luck with the rolls begins to weaken.

ramesses arched a brow. "he wants children," pharaoh explained. "nine spaces." did she see how his stone inched toward her own game piece.
he sought her eyes now, nazli thoroughly distracted by his idle gambit. "the purpose of neb and nebet is nobility, which any strong kingdom cultivates. nobility provides the divine with viziers, priests, soothsayers, charlatans, traders, priestesses. so you are, there are three tiers," scratching an approximation of a triangle, "each necessary to the function of the overall."

Of course, children. It did not come as any surprise that a noble man would want those of noble birth to come after, it was the way of things. Her question must have been so tedious to the mighty pharaoh! She had best think of something better to say; yet Nazli was busy counting and shifting the stones.
Ramesses explained, and drew his triangle in the sand, which Nazli dutifully glanced at.
So then, priests are noble. They are neb. But to think of Charles becoming a priest! That was less likely than mazoi. It was almost laughable and Nazli could not help but smile down at the game pieces, amused by the image of the man trying to sing at the sun's rising, while his head kept its own tempo from the drinks of a previous long night.
And vizier? Could he find joy in that?

pharaoh thrilled to see her smile, to see that at last there was some relaxation in his divinity. 
"priests are noble. but they can also be fickle and vile." he rolled his stonepiece slowly over his paw. "i think our prince will not find pleasure in anything he is told to do. but he will be told all the same. and we will see what it is he finds enlivening."
presently ramesses came to his paws and rolled bis limber shoulders. for a moment he thought he might release the servant to her duties, but dismissed it outright. what greater honor was there than waiting in attendance on him? "come. we are going to the wellspring. bring the dried sage this time," for the water.

This game felt much more like a lesson, such as the kind she'd taken with Sokha, than any real work. It had been an entertaining way to pass the time. For it to suddenly be over was a let-down, and while Nazli reacted to her orders by standing and straightening herself, then tending to Ramesses as he requested, her mind was on those stones and the numbers in the game. She gave it one last glance as she hurried to gather sage from the storehouse, which itself was on the way to the spring - thus she did not miss a step.
From what she knew of Charles, and she knew only what she'd witnessed as an attendant, he was an ornery man who could not keep peace alone; but also he was wed to a woman who was not here, and so perhaps he drank because he was alone, and was alone because he drank? He was a circular fellow, she thought, but otherwise held no opinion.
They came to the wellspring and Nazli knew to keep her head down and eyes averted as she welcomed Ramesses to the water; she placed the dried sage upon a plinth for now, and did the natural things she had been trained to do: escort the pharaoh to the water and prepare to wait on him, or fetch whatever he may summon.

the god of life and of akashingo strode down into the wellspring as nazli waited in proper obeisance. he settled with his back against the far stone wall and lifted one arm, the only sign he would give rhat he was ready to be scrubbed and combed.
his lazuli eyes watched her face as she worked.
"do you often keep company with the priest?" had she not been with him again the first night that ramesses called for her?
his voice was honeyed, limbs languid, but the serpent's tongue waited to strike in accusation heavier than this if he did not hear what pleased him.

Once in position she was combing the fine furs, finding a joy in this otherwise mundane task. Nazli imagined herself helping Makono with her golden fleece rather than her father, and while she was hidden behind or beside Ramesses, warmed to the memories of Mereo.
When he asked after the priest she was not offended. They were friends who worked closely together, and Nazli could see no further insinuation there; she was otherwise preoccupied with her work.
Yes. In the mornings when he praises the sun, and sometimes when the hem need help with their chores. If Nazli held even the smallest drop of Jawahir within her she might've thought Ramesses jealous, but she was neither nefarious of spirit nor emotionally mature enough to contend with the idea; so it did not even grace her mind.

it was — a suppurating vine of green that coiled close and whispered he did not yet know where nazli's loyalty lay, save for her faith and love in the prince.
senmut was a man raised in these ways and understanding of roles inside a royal household.
his lazuli eyes watched the movements of her paws upon his pelt. "have you been to visit the mazoi?" he asked next, lifting the other arm from the water to examine his buffed nails.
again he waited.

Was he testing her? It felt like it. These little questions - probing at her, in a way. Nazli did not know what could be gained from this knowledge; she was a fellahin, she attended many, she did as she was bade. Perhaps he grew bored with her now and sought any means to remain invested! Was that a failure on her part? She paused in her work for barely a blink, then continued carefully.
From time to time they walk me out to places for supplies, thinking, remembering, but no, I have not visited them. They do not need my help with their more important work. Keeping the land safe for trade and for the royal family was of utmost importance, obviously. Nazli was no warrior and she doubted any would even have recognized her - aside from perhaps Khaba, but for once the girl acted in her own best interest and kept that name to herself.

nazli continued to answer with a clear honesty that set her high in his esteem. she was a perfect example of good training and exemplary education on all fronts. all save for one, the finer points of which could not be taught in a room.
in time he moved in the water. "come here;" down into the warming waters of the wellspring and its sagebrush scent.
ramesses waited for her to heed.

The godking had worked hard to ease the nerves from her, and by now Nazli had forgotten about her earlier fears and misgivings; she was doing her work, that was all. Her mind was tired from the earlier game and now she had fallen in to the habit of her training, appeasing her betters. The mindless work of tidying a the pharaoh's coat had lulled her in to a state of complacency.
When he bade she enter the spring, she did not think twice about it.
It was not unheard of for her to sit in the water with her betters, she thought. She had done so with Makono and nothing ill had befallen her. She had tended the baths for others, and often cleaned them. This was no different from any other job.
The water was cold. Her haunches trembled as soon as she had stepped off the ledge and in. The man with his golden coat and nightblue eyes watched her from the far wall. Obediently, she moved to meet him there - the sagewater soaking through her immediately, as Nazli settled.

ramesses saw first the singing tremour of her muscles. the water parted evenly as she came to settle near him; beneath its surface, his strong arm stole around her waist and moved her in front of him, the straightness of her back toward him, some inches of the pool between.
pharaoh lifted a pawful of water and as she had done for him, sluiced it over shoulders and arms, working the sage's magick into the lines of her dutiful figure.
there was no sound for some minutes, save for their breathing, the lap of wellspring upon red stone, and the gentle whisper of limbs in the sighing aquifer as ramesses continued to anoint nazli, letting water trickle across her forehead and down the backs of her ears.
a man caressing the delicate filligree of a priceless crown with oil until it gleamed.

This she was not expecting. To be the one handled in such a way — and he was purposeful at first, moving her; then delicate, as he moved the water and perfumed her with the sage. Nazli had never experienced such care before; she was receptive to it, and addled by it, and so for a time she did not move unless he moved her, and found the comfort of his presence at-odds with how cold the water felt.

A piece of her wanted to be guarded. She felt small, always; as much for her station in life as for her youth, and she knew the man was the opposite: he was divinity at the very least, and she knew from her lessons that she should not be afraid. The trepidation was the last piece of who Nazli was — and this god, this man, this king, knew exactly how to cleanse her of it.

when she was languid and soothed, some inner tension at last ebbed away. ramesses felt it dissipate, as surely as he had sensed her ease with him since the senet game.
the motions and cleansing went on for some time.
at length pharaoh smiled and stirred in the water as if to wake her from the sensations. "come," and rising to his feet, ramesses drew up from the wellspring and drew her with him, took up a soft drying-cloth of fine hairs and pressed the moisture and the droplets from her ears and throat and neck, he having taken her role for a moment.
streaming from the bath, he stilled and lazuli eyes sought to find her own. "tomorrow i will not call for you," conversational, waiting to absorb nazli's reaction. "you choose when you will come to me again."
with that ramesses stepped back and seemed to become his marble-hewn self once more, regal despite the water puddling around him upon the tilestones.