Daughter of Seth
If you had asked me where I was born, I would tell you Thebes. But while I was born in Thebes, I wasn't born high on the social ladder. In fact, the only thing that was lower then my family would have to be the slaves.
My father was a Laborer during the flooding of the Nile and a hired hand for the harvesting season. Both were rather poor jobs, paid only in small bags of grains and ratty cloth. My mother was the most average of any woman I had ever met. Everyday she would wake up, pray to our tiny shrine of Bes, and then get started on pounding grain in the kitchen's mortar. Later she would use the flour to bake loaves of bread that she would take to the market to trade.
I didn't have any brothers or sisters; my mother had told me it had to do with my father. She would always tell me the same thing. "Like a dead crop, some soil can no longer grow. Father can no longer grow." This had made perfect sense to me and I let it rest at that.
Most people on my street would call me a normal child. I definitely acted like the other children on the streets, running along the roads and roofs, playing a rough game of tag where we would all going tumbling in a heap to the packed earth. Yet we were always laughing.
I guess what made me different from everybody else was the fact that I had bright red hair. It was rough and unclean most of the year, but when I did have it cleaned, people would stop to stare at me. As a small girl my mother didn't allow me to shave my head, due to the fact that our family could never afford wigs, even my mother had a head of hair, though it was a rich black.
If I had known that Priest Chike would change my life, I would have avoided him at all costs. Though, if I think back on it, if I had known that because of him I would become the savior of hundreds of people, I would have allowed him to pull me away from my small little world without a struggle.
Priest Chike was one of the most revered priests in all of Egypt, but, of course, meager peasants as we were, we would not be able to pick him out if he was standing in a group of women. He might have been a young boy for all we knew.
I guess you could say that is the reason, when he first came to our little corner of Thebes, on route to the palace, that we paid little heed to him. However, due to his stunning clothes and the fact that he was the only man on horse within a mile of our neighborhood, my friends and I were slightly startled.
I was outside when his small parade came around the corner and nearer to my house. The children I was playing with in the street stared for only a few seconds before running off into their houses, safely peeking out their windows. I also ran to my door and watched from its sagging arch.
The strange man did not even look at the houses he passed, and it looked like he would turn the corner with out even looking at me. I had hoped that; he had piercing gray eyes that reminded me of a hawk. His face was small and narrow and even from my porch I could hear the wheezing from his lungs.
Just as he was about to pass our street my father came out of the house in a rush, I don't quite remember why, and sent me rolling into the middle of the road.
My father was knocked backwards, and now was impatiently trying to shift so that he wouldn't hurt his lame leg.
I panicked, realizing that I was now sitting in the middle of the road, right in the path of the priest. I checked to see where the funny looking man was, and to my horror I found that he had stopped the parade to stare hatefully at me.
He stared so long that I was beginning to wonder if there was some rule against blocking the road of a rat-faced man.
Priest Rat Face suddenly leaned back in his saddle and seemed to mull over whatever was floating around in his greasy little head. He turned to a round-faced boy beside him.
"Scribe." The boy looked frightfully up at the priest.
"Y-Yes s-s-sir?" he stuttered.
The man leaned back in saddle as if on the borderline of forgetting the whole thing. Finally he spoke. "Record my verdict."
The scribe frantically took a roll of papyrus and a charcoal pencil.
Priest Rat Face didn't see if the scribe was ready or not. He began speaking, keeping a careful eye on me: "From this day on, this girl will be taken to the royal temple and locked away from the world." He finished this with pride.
I felt tears spring to the edges of my eyes, and as I comprehended his words I sprang to my feet and made to run.
Two guards that had attended Rat Face came upon me before I could move and grabbed hard at my arms. I gave out a yelp and flailed my legs in the air, trying desperately to escape their clutches.
The man was laughing as he pressed his heels into the horse's flanks and continued down the road, paying little attention to my father who was now running along side of him, pleading for my return.
The scribe came up to me the same nervous look painted on his face, "What is your name girl?"
I didn't answer—I was happy enough glaring at the back of the priest. My father was now returning to the hut, gazing at me with loneliness hard in his eyes. I knew then that my chances of returning home were slim.
I was pulled at the rear of the parade for the better part of the day. My arms were sore and my back was sun burnt because I wasn't wearing a shirt to cover my torso.
When we came down a rich looking street people began to laugh; I think they found it entertaining to see a dirty little girl being dragged behind a rich priest. They would stop and stare—and I felt myself grow even hotter, due to my angry fluster.
It was halfway down that road when the procession suddenly halted and I was yanked to a stand still. I cried out as a hand scraped against my burnt skin.
Next thing I knew the two guards that were with me had me on my knees with my nose in the ground and my arms stretched out in front of me.
"Bow before your pharaoh," one of the guards bellowed; I could tell it was the one that had his large hand pressing me into the earth.
There was a silence and I stayed in my uncomfortable bow. The dry dirt was stirring and blowing into my nose—I desperately needed to sneeze.
I didn't know who the pharaoh was, all I knew was that once a year, on his birthday, the city was cleansed and there was a large celebration with wine and beer. My mother would bake breads for the many men that would stand in the back of the crowd, trying their hardest to see the half-naked entertainers.
There was the sound of many feet, then I could hear Rat Face dismounting; he even shrank to all fours before the pharaoh. My eyes were clouded with dust but what I could see was that everyone in our group crouched to their knees.
There was a sound of a heavy load hitting the packed earth, and then the sound of a hard pair of sandals moving closer to us. I closed my eyes because I knew from the gold and jewels on this person's sandals that he was the Pharaoh—and I didn't dare let the pharaoh catch me looking at him.
I heard him greet Priest Rat Face and the two held a small conversation. Suddenly they were in front of me. I had thought that the priest's sandals were elegant, however, compared to the Pharaoh's, his were like dirty reed flip-flops.
They conversed in hushed voices for a few more moments before the second man spoke to me, "Girl, you can rise."
I felt the guard's hands ease away from my back and the feeling returning to my hands. I rose to my feet but kept my eyes shut so hard I began to develop a headache.
The man reached out a hand and took a lock of my hair in between his fingers. He rubbed away the grime and peered at its rare color, "Clean this girl up and her hair will be brighter then any ruby in my treasury," he told the Priest.
I heard him snap his fingers and the sound of a third pair of sandals approaching. I also heard the sound of water and I guessed that the Pharaoh was rinsing his hands free of my dirt.
When he turned his attention back to me he wanted something completely different.
"Open your eyes and look at me," the Pharaoh demanded.
I was hesitant to obey because I didn't know if this was some sort of test that the two of them had conspired. However, I opened my eyes obediently and looked up.
The pharaoh was a pudgy little man with round thick arms and small little legs sticking from underneath his loincloth. His face was round and cheerful. Overall he reminded me of a piece of cheese on a stick.
He looked me hard in the eyes and I did whatever I could to not disrespect him. I settled on staring at his nose.
Finally he looked away and I could let my eyes drift back down to the packed dirt. I heard him exchange a few more words with the priest before he looked back at me.
"I would like to see you tomorrow at noon, girl. I'll have something to give you." With that, he returned to his procession.
The guards forced me back on to the ground and my nose was once again in the dirt.
I heard his sandals clank as he sat back down on his throne, and the grunt of his slaves as they bore the weight of their cargo. I waited a long time until the sound of the procession was unheard, and then the guards allowed me to rise. However, this time they did not grab my arms or force me forward.
The priest, or Priest Chike as the pharaoh had called him, was still standing, facing the direction in which the other man had left. He turned to me, a confused look on his face, as he looked me straight in the eyes. I couldn't tear my face away. He was staring so hard—not unlike the other man had—that I felt that he was looking past me, into my thoughts and unanswered questions.
"Brat, you are one lucky child."
That is all he ever said to me. He turned back, mounted, and continued down the street. The scribe who had written down the priest's decree was following closely at the horse's side. He was followed by the assortment of minor priests and assistants. Finally, I was alone with the two guards.
They did not push me forward, nor did they move from their flanking positions. I understood; they were no longer guards of the priests'. They were my guards now.
If a lonely stranger had walked down the street and spotted us he would see a dirty little girl, with two massive guards standing on either side of her. He would then run off and go home to tell his poor wife of how the little next-door girl was now associated with the High Priest Chike—and the all powerful Pharaoh Akiiki.
Perhaps someday the odd tale would reach my parents, and they would know I was all right.
When we reached the high temple I wasn't allowed any time to wonder at the murals and statues and the beautifully dressed women that roamed the courtyards, admiring the lush gardens. My guards were constantly with me, like a bad nightmare that wouldn't disappear.
But, eventually, dreams begin to fade until they will finally become unimportant; and this is how it worked for me. I began to become unaware of the guards' presence. I treated them as if they weren't there, and I found it was easier that way.
I was led into a dim, empty room with a polished floor and white walls. Priest Chike was there with me, along with his four head guards; including my own guards and myself, there were eight people in the room. At least, I had thought there were.
From the shadows a woman emerged, and she was splendidly dressed in the best of linen and gold jewelry. Her makeup was done precisely, down to the black kohl lines that surrounded her eyes. She was wearing a black wig and had the uraeus snakehead piece wrapped around her forehead.
She smiled fondly at me; she had a genuinely kind look, mixed with searing intelligence.
"You must be the girl. Oh, how I've heard of you."
I highly doubted this, due to the fact that I had only met the priest this morning, and it was only afternoon. Not even the priest knew anything about me.
I guessed the look on my face gave away my emotions, "You're right, I know about as much as you as anybody else."
She then took my hand, a friendly gesture I had not been expecting, and she took me closer to a window in the corner.
The light hurt my wide eyes and I squinted until the brightness had dimmed. The woman was looking at me with praising eyes.
"Oh pretty, so pretty," she chanted as she rubbed my hair with her fingers, like the Pharaoh had done. "This red hair!"
Priest Chike scoffed angrily, apparently he felt left out of our conversation, "Should we shave her head?" he asked the woman, and I wondered why Chike, being the head priest, would ask a woman on matters such as this.
"Certainly not!" The woman declared, fingering one of my red locks again, "It's dirty, I'll admit that, and I'm certain that this poor thing has lice but-"
"I can assure you, I don't!" I protested, in a voice that told them how much I cared about the prospect of having such gross little bugs living in my hair.
The woman watched me in shocked silence for a while, before laughing harder than I thought her frail body would allow.
She wiped away the tears from the corner of her eyes. Due to some astonishing miracle, her makeup was not smeared. I watched in awe as she finished her hysterical fit.
"I will like you very much, my dear. I am Akila, high priestess to the gods." She stuck out her golden hand and I took it with my dirty one. She brought my hand up to her face and marveled at its ash undertone, "Even your skin! My goodness! What's your name, little girl?"
I really didn't want to tell her, because I didn't yet trust her, but her wide smile and happy tears made me want to at least give her a name, even if it wasn't really mine.
It wasn't my name, but it was my mother's, and I loved my mother. I hoped that I would always have a memory of her.
Akila smiled so brightly that I couldn't help but let a little grin to spread on my lips, "Kamilah…'perfection'." She grabbed my grimy hand again, "Come, we must go and clean you up—you are visiting the palace tomorrow!"
I was dragged away through another door. The hall we were now in was an open hallway with gardens on both sides; maids bustling down both ends.
When the maids saw Akila they bowed to her, then to my amazement they turned and bowed to me, something I never thought would happen. I bowed back to the maids and they gave me a sort of dazed look before scampering back down the halls.
My two guards were also there, following us with large strides, along with a pair of Akila's guards. We finally came to a bright white room that was completely empty except for a royal bathing pool. It was like a large hole in the middle of the room, into which had been poured pure water.
Akila told a maid to bring some clothes for me. Because of the small amount of clothing I wore, all I had to do was untie the cord and step into the water when Akila asked me to undress.
The water was like crystals. The skylights let in enough warmth to keep the pool warm enough, yet the shadows kept it at a cool temperature.
Akila kneeled behind me and I let her dunk me under the water, so that my hair was damp. I could picture the dirt flaking off in chunks.
I leaned back and relaxed my head against the marble bath, allowing Akila's hands to massage the questions from my mind, the worries, and, most of all, the excitement.
I did not understand why something as trivial as hair, which could be shaved off within seconds, could be enough to shape a person's life.
The sun had drifted an eighth across the sky when Akila was finally able to brush through my hair. I had had to move several times, due to the fact that I dirtied the water in which I was sitting in. The maid had long ago brought clothes for me and I couldn't help but feel a small bud of selfish excitement blooming in my chest.
I changed into the clothes and felt slightly restricted in the dress—my legs and torso felt as though they had been wrapped in gauze, like that of the mummies.
After that, Akila sat me in a chair in a room next door. The room kept my interest as she untangled my hair; the gardens grew up to the open walls and the breeze was pleasantly gentle. I felt my eyes grow heavy with the sun as it sank in the sky.
But I remained awake, treasuring the feeling of the experienced fingers massaging my scalp. I allowed my mind to wonder—to my family, to my friends; far away on a street no one could name, in a part of town no one wanted to live in.
When she started with my makeup, I made several faces as the oils and lotions stung my nose but Akila only laughed and told me to hold still. Finally after my face was finished Akila turned to a box sitting next to her: the same one that held all her makeup that she had so generously let me borrow.
From the case she brought out a glittering gold band that sparkled brightly as she twisted it in the last rays of the sun. She hung it on my head so the small charm in the middle hung down right above my eyes.
As she fixed my hair around the headpiece, she told me of the charm. "This is an ankh, it was mine when I was a girl of your age, and now my life is far greater then I ever thought it could be. May your life also be as surprising and blissful as mine." She gave me a wide smile.
From the case she also took a gold mirror—it was oval, and was even brighter than the beautiful ankh I wore on my forehead.
She held it out in front of my face. "And this is Kamilah," she told me, holding the mirror's surface level with my face.
I had never actually looked into a mirror. I had many times looked into the surface of water, yet it didn't have the accuracy of this mirror.
My hair was red, redder than I had ever seen it before. My skin looked oddly gray, like Akila had rubbed in some light ash. My eyes had rings around them ending in points longer then my eyelashes, and they were a darker color, with an almost red tint. I had never known the color of my eyes; I had never cared to ask, due to the fact that I assumed my eyes were the same color as my mother's, my father's, and everyone else's on my street.
Akila's smile turned slightly sad as she put the mirror back in the case. She looked over at the doorway where another person had entered without my realizing it.
"Nkuku," she said, thoughtfully.
The man, Nkuku, turned to us and bowed, "Priestess Akila," he greeted in a high-pitched squeak. He was an older man, with a black patch over one of his eyes and a ratty black loincloth. He was unclean and smelled like a sewage pit.
"Make sure Kamilah is prepared to go to the palace tomorrow at noon." Nkuku looked like he was about to leave before he turned back to us, a very sinister smile on his wrinkled lips, "Prepare her for a test." Then he left.
Akila was silent for a long time, and I began wondering if she would speak at all to me. She folded the top of the case closed and locked it with a small silver key. She then turned to me and placed the key in my palm. "I am now giving you all of my makeup, my jewelry, and my money. If you want to live you will take this chest and you will go back home."
I would have loved to return home. Even though I had made friends with Akila, I was still terrified of never seeing my parents again. But the chest was half the height I was, and just as wide too—how was I supposed to carry this?
I looked up at Akila for answers but she didn't seem to recognize the problem, "Priestess Akila, how?"
She looked at me pitifully and leaned over to whisper in my ear, "If you really wanted to leave, you would find a way."
I looked at her skeptically. It was some kind of test. If I could find a way to move the chest then I deserved to go home. However, what if I couldn't figure it out? What if I was stuck in this room with my new treasures until someone came for me the next afternoon? Would that mean that I never truly wanted to go back home?
Akila left the room after that. Nevertheless, I continued to sit there and brood over how I was going to extract the crate and carry it all the way to my house, when I still did not know the way.
I thought of asking my guards, who where standing like statues on either side of the door. Then I realized that doing so would alarm them that I was a thief trying to steal a priestess' makeup. Why would guards help a thief? I sighed and sat in front of the box, trying to calm my mind so that I might be able to solve this impossible puzzle.
Priest Chike and Nkuku found me there the next morning, asleep. Akila was also with them. She had an anxious look on her face, as if to see if I had really left or not, though when she saw me lying on the pile of pillows near the corner of the room she sagged in defeat.
Akila was assigned to get me in the finest of clothing and the most elaborate of makeup. Though, as Akila did as she was told, I couldn't shake the feeling of her disappointment. I felt guilty and I knew far better than to bring it up.
As she was placing the ankh on my head again she finally spoke, though it wasn't a scornful tone as I thought it would be, it was more like worry, "Today, when you have to do the test in front of the pharaoh, please do it with your heart, not your mind." She grabbed my dull cheeks and turned my head to look at her, "Promise me, Kamilah!"
I promised her, for her words had been true to me so far. Though her warning did strike fear in me, what kind of test would she so fear? Did Nkuku have something to do with this?
Near noon I was fed fruit and a tiny scrap of meat, though compared to my usual meals this scrap of meat was bigger than I had ever had at one time.
As I was finishing my meal, Priest Chike came pounding into the room, a cross look on his face that showed his impatience. "Come girl!" he ordered me.
I could do nothing but stand and let him drag me off to the front of the temple, the same entrance I had used yesterday when I was the filthy little girl, Haqikah.
I was leaving as the apprentice priestess, Kamilah.
Chike showed me to his procession, which was standing idly awaiting his commands. There were two horses in the group today, and I couldn't help but wonder who the second one was for.
As I was about to ask, one of the servants came over and led me to its side, assisting me in jumping up into the saddle. I cried out in alarm as the horse started fidgeting. I had never been on a horse before and I found it not as enjoyable as I had thought it would be. I clung the rope handed to me and hoped that I would be alive when I was able to walk on the earth again.
To my misfortune the ride was quite a long one, and we went through narrow streets and unheard of alleys. And I watched longingly as the children in the street ran to their windows to watch us pass, as I had done yesterday. Long ago, I had taught myself that anything can happen, but I never thought I would have to use that knowledge. The children looked as I had: matted hair, splotched skin. However, to their eyes I probably looked like a princess, on my high horse with my painted skin. I wished I didn't—I wished I were like everybody else.
I could see the palace, and then I could hear it; there were hundreds of people outside the palace, bantering in the marketplace. This was the main street, one of the servants answered when I leaned over to ask.
The palace was white and caught the light only to throw it back at all the passing people. It looked massive and above everyone's head stood two huge pillars in a arch, I would have looked longer, but my horse was pulled forward by one of my guards, the other at my flank keeping a steady eye on the crowd.
When we arrived at the arch, the hooves of our horses echoed off and became the dominant sound. I felt as though I was breaking some sort of silence. I was glad to get on the other side, due to the fact that I was starting to feel enclosed.
The other side of the gate showed me the grounds of the palace, covered in gardens and vegetation. I saw a trio of antelope grazing only a few yards away, and I could even see the heads of a pair of giraffe on the other side of a large tree.
In this area we were permitted to dismount and I happily did so. Once on my feet again I felt a reassurance that I had taken for granted before.
I stood obediently, waiting for what would happen next, but I found that we did an awful amount of waiting. Our crowd stood on the cobblestone sidewalk until the sun had rode a sixth of the sky. I was sitting by then, my legs had grown tired and I was bored.
Priest Chike grabbed me from the ground suddenly, patted my rear hard to rid it of any offending dirt and shoved me down the path. My two guards never left me, and I began to feel dependent on them.
A gangly little man led us to a tall hallway that was filled with high columns and colorful paintings. The hieroglyphs blended together to me in one big giant blur: I couldn't read, and I couldn't write.
We continued down the hall until I noticed a large assemblage of people crowding around one end of the room. I ducked around a fountain sitting in the middle of the palace and followed my procession through the parting crowd.
They stared at me like a piece of burnt bread. The women, with their fancy robes, held ostrich feather fans to their mouths as they tried to hide their whisperings. I became self-conscious and scooted closer to Priest Chike who was walking with a back like stone.
We finally reached the center of the hall, and yet I was urged forward until I was face to face with the throne. From there, my nose was pressed into the floor. I had no clue what was going on, all I knew was that Cheeseball was sitting on the throne. He must have been, why else would I be bowing?
Priest Chike did a brief bow before he stood and joined the man on the throne. I was left there, like a lost little child, in the middle of chaos.
"Go ahead and stand Kamilah." It was the Pharaoh Cheeseball after all.
I stood like I was told, but kept my eyes everywhere but on him. I could hear gentle conversation going on at the top of the throne and I couldn't help but wonder what they were talking about.
The pharaoh shifted his numb rear in his seat; "We have a test for you Kamilah, but since I seem to be quite busy we'd better get right to it."
I didn't know why, but all of the sudden a giant door to my right began to screech open and I looked quickly to see what was happening.
There was a general growl from the direction of the door and then I heard scuffling. The guards took considerable steps back and I began to sweat nervously.
Then a creature came from the door, both vicious and ugly. Its head was long and curved and its ears were squared from the base all the way to the flat tips. Its eyes were bloody and the skin was a sallow gray. I couldn't help but shiver at the sight of it.
Behind the creature was Nkuku, tugging on a long black tether that kept its sharp jaws clamped tight. I watched as the beast pulled Nkuku closer and closer to me. And I wanted more then anything to whirl away in fear. However, I had been ordered by the Pharaoh to stay in my place.
I knew then what I had to do, and I clamped my eyes so tightly together that small white dots began flashing on the inside of my eyelids.
I waited then; I could hear it's wheezing. It was so close to me, I could feel it's rancid breath. I held out my arms forward, 'with your heart,' the priestess has said. It would be here soon and I would welcome it with open arms and an open heart.
I heard the lead Nkuku had been tugging on hit the ground, and the sound of his sandals retreating back to the door he had come from, I didn't open my eyes though, because if the beast could see into my eyes I was afraid he would see into my soul, and know my fear. You cannot love something you fear.
I was betraying my own advice however, I was shaking all over and the hall's silence only reassured me of how alone I was. I kept my arms extended; the beast wasn't moving, he was sitting before me, wheezing like an old man that had lived once on my street.
Tears began escaping my closed eyes and tracking down my cheeks. It felt as if I had been standing there for days. More tears tracked from my eyes and onto my cheeks.
Without warning I felt something warm and rough brushing up my face. The gentle force applied surprised me enough that I completely forgot that I was keeping my eyes closed. They came flying open.
I was like a startled animal just being caught by a predator. The beast was sitting lightly on his haunches, his head just above my chest. He was a big dog. I noticed Nkuku had removed that muzzle I had trusted. I looked to the door to see Nkuku there, standing in a ready position; it looked like he was expecting the beast to attack me.
I turned back to the beast; I could smell his saliva mingled with my salty tears on my cheeks. He had licked me, though I had yet to trust the intention of his lick, perhaps he was just getting a taste of things to come.
A fright spread like a fire through my veins and I felt my knees grow week until I was on the floor before the animal. I began crying again, bending over. It was over, I was sure of it, and I had never been so terrified in my life.
I wept loudly and I was relieved when no one came to collect me, I was content with just being allowed the privilege to cry.
The beast was there with me, his huge head resting on my folded lap, he had a permanent scowl on his face, yet an almost sincere look in his red eyes. I placed one hand on his head and rubbed his dirty fur back.
I sat on the floor until my tears had dried. There was a slow clapping from the throne. I looked to see who was applauding.
The pharaoh was standing from his throne, the rolls on his arms swaying as he brought his hands slowly together to make a dull thud, "Very good, very good." he smiled, it seemed like he was just as relieved as I was that nothing had happened.
I listened as light applause filled the whole hall; they were applauding me for doing what other people had died trying to do. I felt sick.
I saw out of the corner of my eyes as the Pharaoh's finger flicked in the direction of Nkuku, and Nkuku dashed our way.
I wasn't sure what he was going to do when he got here, but I hoped it wouldn't hurt either of us.
When he finally made it to the center of the circle he took from his pocket the muzzle. He leaned forward and then froze, waiting for the perfect chance.
When the dog raised it's head to see who was hovering above him, Nkuku lunged, he swung the muzzle around the tight jaw and took the clasp around the ears, clamping it tight at the back of the skull.
The animal was still in shock for a few moments before it began lashing out angrily. The muzzle restrained many of his bites, yet even a few of his sharp teeth managed to pass through the restraint and scratch the man's arm.
Nkuku smacked the animal on the side of the head and tied him to the lead in his hand. With a great struggle the man dragged the beast away. It was frantically trying to get back to me at the same time, making an almost comical scene for Nkuku. In fact, I swear I heard a few people in the crowd giggling.
I felt almost resentful as the beast was taken away, but I watched quietly, waiting for what would happen next. The servants and attendants that had arrived with Priest Chike and I returned to my side, bowing on their knees.
The pharaoh was looking off behind the throne; Priest Chike was on his knees, his head bowed in respect. When I felt the elbow of one of my guards go in to my leg I knew that I must also bow.
I scooped low so that my nose brushed the marble and waited for what would happen next.
I heard a lot of noises coming from the direction from the throne, it sounded like someone had just entered and was having a discussion with Pharaoh Cheeseball.
"Prince Bomani, look upon this girl," he was saying.
I began to sweat nervously. I could feel the eyes of the throne boring into my back, and I had to wonder who exactly was looking at me.
I heard a boy's voice, and he sounded not much older then me, "Just a peasant girl dressed up fancily, I see no reason to celebrate." A few more people in the crowd chuckled under their breath.
I could feel an anger rising in me, anger at the boy. I had been dragged from my family only yesterday, scrubbed until I felt skinless and then thrown face to face with a fierce beast and this boy was telling his father that there was no reason to celebrate? It was a miracle I was still alive!
"I am not worthless!" I exclaimed angrily from my bent over position. I bet my words weren't as intimidating as I had hoped they would be. The floor muffled my angry voice and my eyes were not able to glare at the offender.
The whole hall went quiet and I feared that I might have crossed the line, that I might be executed by one of the soldiers. But all that happened was a small nudge in my stomach from the guard on my right.
I was beginning to wonder if I was alone in the hall, it was that quiet. I became impatient enough to look up, bending only my head. I would take a quick glance then decide from there.
Unfortunately, I was not alone in the hall, a hazy figure stood over me, and it took me a while to adjust my eyes so that I could stare up at his face.
He was an angry looking boy, with golden hair and piercing eyes. Where I was dark skinned, he was fair and I felt unworthy to be in his greatness, for he seemed holier then even the Priest Chike.
"You dare talk back to a prince?" He shouted at me when he caught my eyes upon his.
This enraged me even more, because he was talking like a spoiled, selfish brat. I could do nothing but glare.
"Why don't you go back to your warthog hole, where you came from!" He suggested this rather forcefully.
I don't know what came over me, but I stood, against the tugs my guards warned me with. I was an inch or so shorter then the boy, but I was just as stubborn as he was.
"Why don't you just go prance back to your room of gold, you arrogant monster!"
That was probably the wrong thing to say, because Prince Bomani took a step back, looking as if he would explode. His whole body trembled with fury.
"You sewer rat! What gives you the right to come rolling from the ditches and into my palace?" he demanded.
I glared back. "The same right that you have to come and steal candies from children. Think of lowering your idiotic taxes on our people, so that we can have as many luxuries as the snobs in your courts!"
Pharaoh Akiiki gave a loud laugh the hall was not expecting, "This girl has wit, Chike." He slapped his fat knee with his even fatter hand, and it made a smacking that sounded similar to someone who had just belly flopped in cold water.
Priest Chike was also chuckling, a scary noise that sounded more like a lion's purr, "She has not only passed the first test, but also the second." the two shared a laugh until small tears were standing in the corner of their eyes.
Prince Bomani and I stood watching them, unsure of what to think. The Pharaoh finally managed to raise a hand to have the boy brought back to him.
"You humor me, my son, for this is also a child of a god." He said this as the boy bowed in front of his honored father. "Just like you."
The boy was both surprised and annoyed by this comment and showed it by turning to look back at me, he then gave me a cold glare. "She is a dirty god, look at the color of her skin!" he exclaimed to his father, not taking his eyes off me.
I was about to retort something just as foul but Chike intercepted, "Of course my prince, she is the Daughter of Seth after all."
I was the Daughter of Seth.
And a week later, the taxes were lowered.
Thank you for reading all the way down here, if you liked my story give me a review, if you really liked it, you can continue on through the chapters. I would like to thank my dramatic friends, who helped bring this story from a personal irritation to a plot. Thank you again