Page 57 of Beyond the Ruby River
“This is my partner Dakarai. His concerns over my lingering cough are what brings us here today. Daka this is the suenu, Herihor.”
“Greetings,” said Daka.
Herihor graced him with a polite smile. “Any friend of Mahu’s is welcome in Osiris’s Temple.”
“Thank you.”
Herihor turned his attention back to Mahu. “The cough has grown worse then? Tell me everything. Don’t leave out a single detail.”
As if Daka would let him. Mahu explained the progression of his chest pains, the coughing fits, and admitted to the blood though saying it aloud brought a tremor of fear. As if the words made his illness more real. His throat tightened.
Herihor rose from his seat to conduct a thorough examination, all under Daka’s watchful stare. Mahu did as he was bid, taking deep breaths, leaning this way and that, forcing a cough while the suenu felt his back and chest. He sat still as Herihor poked and prodded, and answered all the man’s questions.
“Have you had a fever? Chills?”
Mahu had, but he’d managed to conceal it from Daka. Until now. “Off and on. Fairly mild.”
“The blood is a recent development?”
Mahu nodded. Kasmut had coughed up blood before she’d died. Mahu had washed the soiled linen himself. The memory roused sorrow. Nothing Herihor had done had been able to help her. Not amulets, not the burning of sage, not the prayers or incantations. His family had died despite Herihor’s best efforts.
Herihor lowered his voice. “It’s a bad omen.”
Mahu knew as much.
Daka sat with his hands folded in his lap, one gripping the other so hard his knuckles had gone white.
“Your chest rattles as you breathe. Your lungs are overworked. A demon consumes you. We must cast him out,” Herihor proclaimed.
A gasp hissed from Daka’s parted lips. He closed them fast, casting a worried glance at Mahu.
Mahu wanted to comfort him. To reassure Daka he didn’t think the priest was referring to him, but to the demons that plagued mankind and the gods alike. Evil spirits, not playful incubi. That conversation would have to wait until they were alone. Herihor wouldn’t understand, and Daka’s secrets weren’t his to reveal.
“Tell me what to do,” said Mahu. Somehow he remained calm. Daka was anxious enough for an army all by himself.
Herihor reached for a bundle of dried sage.
Mahu’s shoulders sagged. He’d hoped for more. A real cure. Not a token offering. He knew very well how little burning sage would help because he’d been through this dance three times before.
Next came the amulet. Dark blue like the color of Daka’s eyes. The jewel would suit his coloring more than Mahu’s. Perhaps when Mahu was gone, Daka would keep the necklace to remember him by. The stone would look lovely hung around his neck, resting against the smooth skin of his chest.
The trinket was placed around Mahu’s neck instead, lying cold and heavy against his sternum.
Finally Herihor began chanting the same sacred words he’d said over Beni, then Kasmut, and finally his dear Ahset.
Mahu desperately wished to block them out. Wished Daka wouldn’t listen. Wished there were something more to be done than allow the disease to progress to its inevitable conclusion.
Daka had told him of an insane idea.
But Mahu couldn’t stomach becoming a demon himself. He sighed as Herihor’s hands passed over him, casting out an invisible spirit Mahu could no longer bring himself to believe in even as an actual demon sat still as a statue next to them, unshed tears filling his eyes.
Demons weren’t his problem. Illness was. If only he could beat the sickness, he could live to see Daka learn to swim, live to see him mature as a man, to watch as he navigated the world for himself.
“Send for me if it gets any worse,” said Herihor. “Spare yourself the walk to the temple.”
His words held a sort of finality that caused Mahu’s stomach to churn. As if he’d soon be too weak to make the short journey. But surely it wasn’t that bad, or he’d feel worse. He hadn’t yet lost his strength. He itched to tell Herihor he was wrong, that he was still a strong man. That walking would do him good.
Instead Mahu said, “We’re in the shop most mornings. Do have a page run by to collect whatever papyri the temple needs.”
