world on him. And he once loved this creature. Did you think you loved?
But did you yourself act better, asked the voice of conscience in a distant corner of his consciousness, did you yourself not chop down hundreds of people in battles, did not give orders to advance and not spare anyone. Ujai filled the memory of the slaughter with wine. Alais never ate or drank anything, except human blood. She did not hack to death hundreds of people in battle, she killed forty people with witchcraft. But how did she do it… With what amazing indifference! As if it was her sacred right to take the lives of people around the world.
«Forty is the number of my god,» she explained calmly, but so that everyone would hear. «Remember that together with each of the guilty forty innocent people from his inner circle will be killed. Or just people dear to him».
«And so Aton orders?» Ujjai is finally speechless again.
«Aton?» Her graceful eyebrows arched in amazement. «What does Aton have to do with it?»
It seemed that her laughter would now be heard, but an amazing silence reigned in the hall.
«You said ’your god,»» Ujai said after all. «That is, the sun god?»
And again a sly smile. What was behind it? This creature knew much more than told them all, and even Pharaoh. How cleverly it manipulated everyone and everything here! How delightful it looked! He hated Alais and yet could not take his eyes off her. He wanted to look at her and look until he finally loses his mind. This is how the one who is doomed to burn in its rays looks at the sun. Ujai now felt so condemned, who had been suspended high in the mountains in the desert to be burned entirely – a long painful execution. He knew this firsthand. Alais flapped her dark wings, dispelling all his illusions. Creation of gold, darkness and the power of solar fire.
«The first name of the sun god was not Aton», Alais looked at him, no longer laughing.
«What’s the difference? Egypt is ruled by you, not he. On his behalf, but still we will all have to bow to you. Instead of the cult of Aton, then there will be the cult of Alais, and it does not matter if there is a god at all.
«It is not in your power to look at the one who was considered to be a god from the beginning and at the same time not to lose his mind, man».
The last word made him angry. An insect, that’s what she really wanted to call it. People were just insects to her. And it doesn’t matter who they are: slaves carrying blocks for pyramids or royal entourage – they are all just people. It’s just those who live and die, from whom only a handful of rotting meat and bones will remain in the end, and she is different. There is nothing human in it.
It looked more like a sculpture cast in gold tones. The stone features expressed nothing, and at the same time the cold face seemed to be something vulnerable, almost defenseless. He could not love her. He wanted to hit that seductive face, so proud and so innocent, even some kind of naivety flashed in the azure eyes, and then they suddenly turned green, like an emerald, like Basted’s cat eyes. He did not think about the goddesses for a long time, the rudeness in his experience was the main thing, he beat women in his harem, beat whores on the night banks of the Nile, beat slaves, but he would not dare to swing at the daughter of Pharaoh, even if not real, but his hand involuntarily clenched into a fist, and then Alais deftly intercepted it, as if she was about to shake it. It was not even the strength of this shaking that struck him, but the fact that the whole hand suddenly flared up, as if on fire. Such a pain! He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth so as not to scream, but the scream still broke through. The hand was bubbling and went crimson spots. The spots turned into ulcers, eating flesh. In just a few seconds, nothing was left of the hand but the charred remains. Now he was screaming at the top of his lungs, no longer holding back. And Alais looked all the same indifferently, and it was no longer clear where her gaze was directed: at the crippled warrior or at the entire crowd of human beings in general, absolutely superfluous in this room where the deity settled.
Let the rest live as a warning to others. There are less than forty of them. Alais beckoned with a golden claw the one who seemed to be the youngest and most naive. He will never leave her field of vision. Perhaps his arms and legs will remain intact, but… Alais was looking for a place where she would put her seal. Ear, finger, shoulder, neck… better right on the forehead, under a lock of hair. She brought her claws to his forehead. They are sharp as razors and hot as the hot disc of the sun. You need to press them to human skin just once, and a person will become its slave for his entire life.
First impression
Taor did not know what to do here. He seemed to have done everything that the ceremonial obliged him to, and was free to leave, but he was ordered to remain in the palace as an honored guest.
«The days of festivities lie ahead,» Smenkhkara explained to him.
«What kind of festivities?» the young man was amazed. There were no holidays at this time of the year, unless… he forgot that instead of all the previous gods now there was only one, which means that the dates of religious celebrations were also postponed to another time. He did not ask about it in detail, so as not to show himself a simpleton. In the intricacies of secular and religious life, he really did not understand well. Military science was the only thing in which he understood something.
It is a pity that the memories of the victory were somewhat darkened. He often closed his eyes and imagined a dark cloud over the battlefield, where the dead revived and again rushed into battle. There must be many miracles happening in the world, but he had never seen such a thing before. Much in the last war may have seemed strange and implausible. It seemed as if the dark palace mirrors at dusk were beginning to reflect that battle again. But all around was calm. The only reminders of the war here were people in wretched clothes scurrying through the festive crowd – these were the prisoners whom he offered to release, and who wished to stay here as guests during the celebrations. They could be understood. Food and drink – that’s what attracted people here, left homeless by the war and deprived of everything they had acquired. Will they stay in Egypt forever, finding places for servants? Or, after resting, they will go back to the devastated lands where they come from?
Taor still did not even know the name of this tribe. He did not understand their language and could not ask them anything, nor would he dare to enter into conversation with the vanquished. Some kind of anger, something gloomy emanated from them, and each time he averted his eyes, stumbling across the crowd at one of them.
Their faces were surprisingly unpleasant in appearance, their skin was earthy, their eyes were of an unpleasant shade that gave off red. Facial features also had little in common with the faces of the Egyptians and representatives of any other peoples familiar to him. Pointed noses, pointed ears, eyebrows like wings, lipless mouths… with old people it was still understandable, but he had never seen such ugly women and children. Perhaps for their tribe, such features of appearance were considered normal, but the Egyptian was unpleasant to look at it.
Taor suddenly remembered Ujjai, his withered limb and the hopeless despair in his eyes.
Perhaps these people were not born so ugly, but something happened during the war, which disfigured their faces and bodies. But what? What could have happened to women and children who did not go to the battlefield themselves and did not even come close to dangerous areas where men were fighting. Taor was perplexed… Probably, there was something unhealthy in the local deserts, which was so reflected in the appearance of the local population. Each person looks beautiful as long as he is not sick with anything. One mentor, once in his childhood, told him that all the people of the
