Starglow Basin fifty-second

starglow wheeled.

senet was played with two but could be the game of one.

there were four points now: thutmose, rashepses, the princess ashikaga, and himself.

thutmose had yet to gather his court, though his humility was graceful.

rashepses had his tight-wound court of loyal men.

the princess had but a priestess for now, though there had been fewer strong alliances than between the double crown and the godhood.

and he; eset and legend had given their word.

but the servants were most loyal to the queen, and to her edict they would bow first.

senmut closed his eyes, tilting face to the starlight as a great sigh whispered from his aching head.

In the quiet of night, he left the side of @The Cat , seeking only a midnight walk.

He found his former student, now a potential future Pharoah, stood beneath starlight. Akhtar slipped on silent feet, making sure the swish of sand was able to be heard, but not speaking until he stood beside Senmut. He didn’t look at him for a long time, merely stared up at the sky.

Does Khonshu ever speak to you, Senmut?

He was quiet in his murmur, barely even heard above the night sounds of the desert.

cameo!

the dog man is respected. the dog man has food. the dog man is respectful. the cat follows, tail a high straight line.

the cat does not know this other wolf. the cat keeps close to the dog man.

round eyes fix on the stranger. the cat says nothing. they are only watchful.

"i do not seek the god's voice as much as i should," senmut admitted, a small tight smile upon his mouth as he turned toward akhtar.

his eyes widened to see the cat. "have you found a god yourself, priest?" he gasped out in an incredulous laugh.

Akhtar gasped out a laugh, high and incredulous, to see the shape of the cat following in his pawsteps across the sand. 

Oh yes, Little Bast and I have become quite familiar. He looked down at the little beast twined around his legs, happy to have them there before he looked back up to Senmut.

Perhaps you should. His eyes went back to the stars. 

Sometimes, they have answers for situations you didn’t even know you had.

little bast. "what a good omen for our queen's reign," the younger priest commented in reverence.

"you are right," senmut answered after offering the god-made-flesh a small bow. "tell me again, akhtar, the prayer for Khonshu's ear?"

once more, we'eb and mentor stood beneath a yawning sky.

Aren’t they just? He knew he sounded like a doting father, speaking of his most beloved golden child, but he did not believe he would ever have a child.

So, the cat worked.

You do not remember? The faintest of teases, a gentle prod between the ribs. Only for the priest to wink, then raise his voice in the very beginning of Khonshu’s praises.

Hail unto thee, O Messenger of the Gods!
Khonsu, the traveler of the night sky,
Who traveleth through the heaven like Thoth.
Mut-Bast is thy mother
And Amen-Ra-Temu-Kephra is thy father,
Thou makest women fruitful,
And makest the human germ to grow
in thy mothers womb.

Thou art the Moon, the light -bearer,
The moon by night, and the lord of Ma’at.

His voice rose and fell with the prayer, sweeping over the dunes. Perhaps, he told himself, he could see where his genetics came from.

senmut too heard the fatherly note in the priest's voice, and his face was a study in smooth amusement.

akhtar sang. senmut remembered.

his voice joined at 'thou makest women fruitful,' and followed softly thereafter.

his pulse steadied. "it is you who should be high priest, my teacher."

And yet you have done so well, Senmut. As high priest, and in other places. It wasn’t a bitter thing to say, like he’d somehow expected. Beneath the stars, it seemed Akhtar was more than just a fanciful sinner who’d won his name on sheer luck and being good eye candy.

He looked over to the student, his only student in all his years of living, then back to the sky. A distant night insect chirped for only a moment.

Would you like to know a secret, erpa-ha? His eyes twinkled, deep black in the night.

a secret.

"only if you will allow me to belabor you in return with my own," senmut answered, intrigued beyond himself but rather reckless in a way he felt solely with akhtar.

He sniffed a laugh, raising one paw towards a distant star.


If you were to follow that star, far to the east, you would find the place I was born. He stepped forward a singular step, compelled to remember it, all of it.

The place of my parent’s greatest triumph, and my greatest shame. Probably in smoking ruins by now. He swallowed, licked his lips.

There was a reason i warned you of nobility, all that time ago. There’s a reason I know it. I wasn’t always a priest, Senmut. To his greatest of horrors, he felt emotions constricting his throat.

Mirzadeh. My last name. Once upon a time, in a place far to the east, it meant something. My first name, Akhtar, means star. Mirzadeh is a title. Given to the first royal son. He looked away in shame.

I know how nobles are because I was one. And like Icarus, he fell so far.

at last the near-arrogance of the priest and his adept grasp of courtliness reflected his true nature. he was no peasant boy plucked from a backwater farm; he had been gilded and and polished as lapis.

the priests, and priests only they were in this moment, gazed upon the marvelous heavens.

"why does a noble become a holy man?"

A horrid uncle, an invasion of a capital, and a coup. Akhtar was quiet.

I was so young then. I think I slept through it. I woke up with jaws on my neck, and they asked me Why shouldn’t you die? He reached up to part the furs on his neck, at the base beside his shoulder. A thin, ropy scar, the only remainder of what could have been the worst days of his life.

I told them why would you let me live? I was a terribly impetuous thing back then. I think the invaders didn’t like that. They struck me across the face and next I remember, I was shackled to a priest. He would beat me with scripture and with fists until I hated to look at myself. He looked at his paws. How long had it been since he’d almost died? How long had it been since he’d been saved by none other than sheer, dumb, stupid luck.

You’d think that would be it. Humiliate me a few times, drag me about with a collar and shackle, make a mockery of everything I was. No, they tried to kill me. Almost successful, if not for the fact I was always too stubborn to die. I imagine hes still on that throne, growing fat with all he stole from the people. From me. He sniffed in disdain.

I became a priest because that was what I needed. To survive. It took me a long time to realize what was survival could be easily pressed to form a career. I found I rather enjoyed the study after a while. It was easy to just…slide into that skin, and make it my home. He would never be a Neb, no matter how much power his blood once held, because it was nothing now. He was a king of salted dirt, and not much else.

it was quite a story. for its beauty and intrigue, senmut believed it at once, and despite the priest's propensity for embellishment, found akhtar strangely compelling.

a noble who became a holy man.

"the gods see our worth far better than the eyes of any mortal," senmut remarked, and glanced at the manifestation of Bast among them. "even now, a goddess travels at your side. your blood ordained you for a path that Ma'at did not mean for you."

a breath, swelling; a somber look; "i am a fellahin. you know this. child of many. plower of dirt. eater of wheat. now the queen sets her eyes upon me, and i know in my spirit that my presence beside her will dishonor the lineage she carries. that m-my blood, mingled with —" he could not speak it.

"that i am made to serve, carved to worship. not to lead. not to rule. not to father a nation, akhtar." the voice, a whisper; the green eyes sorrowful and pleading.

Akhtar listened, took every word and wrote it on a scroll settled in his chest. A great drafty library of failures, each one more devastating than the last. Senmut pleaded with him with just his eyes, and the priest smiled gently.

Senmut. He turned, slowly, to face him completely.

You so readily say things to apply to me, but not to yourself. He reached out with a gentle hand to prop the boy’s chin up. Let not his crown fall from that furrow of a brow. The brown of his eyes was a deep mahogany beneath the stars, his face in a gentle smile he hardly ever wore.

My blood, your blood, both of us. We are ordained, Senmut, in priesthood. Ordained with the blood of gods, with a line to them should they wish to speak to their people. He reached down, pressing his nose to the boy’s forehead for only a moment, as though a benediction.

You are a child of many, a child of gods. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.

it was the sort of thing a father might say.

it was the sort of thing senmut had longed to hear for more time than he had realized.

a shaking inhale was the first greeting to akhtar's words.

a child of gods, worthy of the throne. and while his origins could never be forgotten, he would assure himself of this, senmut stood taller.

"if she makes me pharaoh, then you must be High Priest, akhtar. i could not rule without you at my side."

Akhtar looked to the boy, a surrogate son were he a man worthy of such titles. But Senmut was no longer a boy, he internally chided, but a man. A royal should Toula choose to make him such.

Akhtar slung a paw around the back of the young man’s neck and pulled him close.

It would be my greatest honor. In a voice thick with tears he could not allow to spill. He had a reputation to uphold, after all, and sobbing onto Senmut would ruin it all.

he saw it.

he felt it.

"blessed is the priest."

his voice, carrying a great respect for the man before him.