The Fangs of the Serpent
The castle's confines grated on you and you found you could no longer lose yourself in the luxury and wonder of all that surrounded you. Each day melded into the next with a sameness borne of repetition, and you wondered if your inquiries would ever bear fruit, or would you be condemned to marry whomever your Father bound you to?
Then it happened. One darkening evening as the sun lent its last reddish light to stain the western horizon, bathing the walls of the buildings in a vista of blood, a message. Tareth your handmaiden, a slave girl of Stygian extraction, entered on silent feet. She was a very comely girl, all hips and breasts, with long straight midnight hair, and unreadable dark doe eyes. She knelt before you awaiting your interest. You gazed at her, but she did not look up. She said in a dark velvet voice that was barely a whisper, "Princess, a messenger will come to your rooms under the cover of darkness and give you His instructions."
You had smiled at that, and a warmth flooded your heart, hope too that at last you would be free to choose your own destiny. You loved your dear Father, but he had never understood that the life he wished for you, one dictated by long tradition was not something that you could possibly embrace.
In the darkness that following night, a masked man had appeared in your chamber, bearing a cloth-wrapped package and verbal instruction. He had not arrived by the door, and at first, you felt a twinge of fear as you sighted his tall silhouette standing in the arch of the glassless window. He could have been anyone, an assassin sent in the middle of the night. But you had invited this had you not?
You rose, at once concealing your nudity with the bed covering, and went toward the faceless shadow. He greeted you by name and title, and as he announced the name of his Master a shiver of delight ran through you, excitement too.
You had been heard, you had been noticed by the God King himself.
The messenger handed you the wrapped bundle, the ebon fabric of almost otherworldly luxury against your pale bejeweled fingers. His own hands lean and dark like polished ebony. He was a Kushite you expected, there were many here in Zamora so you were no stranger to their kind.
You took the bundle, it was heavier than you had expected. Wondering at what lay secreted inside. The man's voice was barely a discernible whisper over the rushing sound of blood in your temples. "Take the potion before your evening meal with your father, and secret the other items on your person. You have read the texts of of the Snake God, you know what to do. A man will be waiting for you in your courtyard after you have done the work of Set. You must not delay, he will take you to the tower if you are successful."
That was all he said, and the stranger turned and vaulted athletically out of your window into the darkness and the anonymity provided by the maze of streets below.
You were alone, heart hammering at this latest turn of events. Realizing your path to freedom has now been paved. In your youth and ignorance, you still did not question what it may cost.
You set the mysterious burden down and began to untie the leather lacing. A small vial of dark liquid rolled out across the rug. You took it up, it was tightly stopped, and you gazed into its murky depths with curiosity. Wondering what at the contents of the unknown concoction, the Black Lotus perhaps? Wondering if you would be brave enough to imbibe something like this without a taster to sample it first. It could be poison you realized, you could go down as the most foolish Princess that Zamora had ever raised. You set it down still wondering if you could really do as instructed, if you could free yourself by Sets teachings. Yet the words began to run through your mind, calling like a siren's song.
'See the strength of your flesh, know the desire in your heart...'
The fabric peeled away and a dagger sat before you on its wrappings of black velvet, its sinuously scaled handle bearing entwined twin serpent bodies, that shone pewter in the half-light. Their heads culminated at the hilt of the design, and their interlocked tails formed the double-pointed blade. You traced your graceful ivory fingers along the dagger's cold length.
Had he touched this very blade, the object of your dark fixation Thulsa Doom?
You wondered, as your breath hitched in your throat thinking of the God King. His ultimate darkness, his power. The wicked blade was bigger than you had imagined it would be, and its only purpose in its sinister design was most obvious, stabbing. Even to one so cossetted as yourself who had never witnessed any real combat.
You had imagined it to be smaller and lighter as you took it in your hands. It was for a dagger rather bulky and unwieldy, at least for a slight woman such as yourself. You realized then as you lay it back down on its cloth, your ears on high alert for even the slightest sound of a potential intrusion, that there was another item enshrouded in the luxurious fabric. A pendant, a symbol of Set, two serpents coming together over an all-seeing eye. It was of some dark nameless metal, heavy and solid in its design suspended by a simple leather thong, and bore no adorning gems. You took it up and placed it about your slender neck, pulling back your silken black hair that caught in the leather. It rested heavy against your white breast, awkward amongst the plethora of rare rubies and gold that you already wore this evening. In time, you thought,
I will wear it and come to him alone.
As you again slipped it from your neck and returned it to the ebon fabric. Wrapping it ever so carefully and committing it to your hiding place with your other forbidden treasures.
This was the fruit of months of careful inquiry and subtle suggestion. You had believed that even here in your Father's Palace, servants of Set must reside. A smile caressed your ruby lips as you realized that you were right in your assumptions. Guidance had come in the guise of a simple serving girl. A slave.
You imagined your union with this God King Thulsa Doom, and how powerful your potential would be as his Queen or perhaps his High Priestess. The glory, the power, the desire. These thoughts gave you a rather heady sensation, but as you looked across at the dawning sky you knew that you could not give them life. That you must rest and be ready for tomorrow...
*****
You languished in your apartments all day, but rest would not come. It was a typical bright and warm Zamora day, and as the bright sunlight streamed into your upper-story living space, you paced the warm alabaster tiles and rugs that littered the floors. Periodically looking out at the streets below watching the city. Its people moving like lines of ants, their lives and motives unknown to you. A woman of royal blood you had never had to know or understand their cares or worries, today though you wished to. Soon you would be joining them. Part of you was afraid, as you had never once in your eighteen years on this earth set foot in the twisted labyrinth of streets down below, attended a market, or gone to pray. This city, though you lived in it was alien to you, even though you had looked out on it every day of your life.
As the hard shadows were cast long on the floors, the sun began to fade from the sky, and the temples called the faithful to prayer all across the city you rose from your divan and made ready. You had been far too nervous to eat today. Sending the trays of food away with the servants untouched. You dressed well this evening with the idea of traveling in mind. It rudely occurred to you that you had no idea how far, nor where the God King Thulsa Doom resided. His Mountain of Power, this mythical location where his thousands of worshipers and acolytes made pilgrimages to could be close or far. You must be ready for any eventuality.
You secreted the dagger at your waist, realizing that the sheerness of your gown would do little to hide it you donned a heavy cape. Your nerves were rising, any sound causing you to jump as you made your final preparations. You placed the 'eye of the serpent' about your neck, wearing it backward so the weight of it hung just between your shoulder blades beneath your cape, reassuring. The rough leather thong was obscured by the rare abundance of rubies adorning your slim white neck.
A further deep breath to steady yourself as you took up the vial of mysterious black fluid. After this step, there would be no turning back.
"You, my children, are the water that will wash away all that has gone before. In your hand, you hold my light, the gleam in the eye of Set."
You could almost hear him say it as you shakily unstoppered the lid, sniffing cautiously at first. Your senses were greeted by a complex, spicy, and woody scent, with notes of centifolia rose, red peppercorn, and saffron. Not altogether unpleasant you thought, raising it to your lips.
You drank with your dark-lashed eyes closed, bracing yourself for the effects of the tincture. It tasted like some of the rare alcohols that graced your Father's table. Spicy, earthy. You took care to secret the vial away, and as your handmaiden Tareth appeared you were at least ready.
The walk to your Father's feasting chamber was lengthy. You did not speak, your handmaiden Tareth beside you lending you her unspoken support. You wished as you approached the great carved doors to the hall that you could take her with you, however, all you could offer her was a glance and the smallest of knowing smiles.
As the doors opened, you still did not feel any different, and you wondered if the potion was simply some kind of test. One that showed your willingness to trust in Set. But there was no time to contemplate this further as you crossed the highly polished tiles toward your Father the King. He was seated in his usual place at the end of the table, in an enormous carved chair. You would sit just to his left as you had in all your memory.
You curtsied to him as a show of respect, and a servant stepped forward to pull out your chair. You sat, your nerves getting the better of you now, being so close to the fruition of your plan. You glanced at your elderly father, he was still a big man though it had been many years since he had ridden to war.
Could you do this truly?
