Snarry Games :: dacro :: She Who Knows the Orphan

Title: She Who Knows the Orphan
Author: dacro
Team: The Snitchies! (best team evah!)
Genre(s): Historical (Ancient Egypt)
Prompt(s): Act of Mercy & Hunger
Rating: PG-13
Warning/Kinks: *references to off-screen abuse/violence*
Word Count: 13,400 ish
Summary: After using accidental magic to turn Pharaoh's would-be assassin to stone, an orphan suddenly finds himself with new rooms, new clothes and a new title: Palace Magician. When told he must choose a personal servant for himself, he selects someone who doesn't seem long for the world – a former priest and healer accused of murder.
A/N: Thank you to my most excellent beta army: saladbats, fireelemental79, joanwilder and rurounihime. To the wonderful snarry_games mods and to my Snitchy teammates who held me up when RL was pushing down, thank you from the bottom of my Snarry-loving heart. This is a work of ~~love~~ fiction based on the characters from the world of Harry Potter. I am making no coin from this venture (only friends).

I had such a wonderful time researching for this fic. I quickly fell in love with the language and landscape of a civilisation that thrived for nearly thirty dynasties, and I realized that I had bitten off quite a staggering section of history. I purposely left the city, palace and Pharaoh unnamed. They were created from elements of several historical and biblical sources. Here's one thought I'd like to leave you with before you read: The ancient Egyptians believed that the source of human thought and emotions came from not from the brain, but from the heart.

She Who Knows the Orphan

The courtyard around the palace was more crowded than was usual. Travelling slave-traders and foreign merchants always drew more attention than any of the local suppliers. Even so, I had never before seen the market stuffed to its limit as it was on the day I was commanded to select a personal slave for myself. The king had appointed a young female servant to weave my new garments and an elderly cook to personally prepare all of my food. It was overwhelming and undeserved, considering I had no control over when my magic would appear. I could not fathom how to use it on command for the king, and neither could I risk insult by denying his gifts.

The air was still and the sun was approaching the middle of its life. I looked down at the assembly and imagined they were all ripe figs set out to dry, each with their own unique shape and colour—every last one heading for consumption.

"What do you require?" the king's advisor, a tree of a man with a sharp mind and kind eyes, asked me.

"If you have a preference, I would be able direct you to the most fitting trader."

I turned options over in my mind: woman or man, young or aged, dark-skinned or light, Egyptian or foreign, engaging or invisible. I had as many answers at the end as I had at the start.

He smiled at me with understanding. "Then we will start with the sellers whom I know to have solid reputations for quality. We will find something that pleases you."

I nodded and followed him. Instead of joining the throng, he led us out beyond the north wall where several temporary structures had been set up. The oxen, camels and other beasts were lounging in the shrinking shadow between the thick wall and the dancing fabric of the tents.

Once we reached our destination, my heart sank as I realised I had an impossible task. There were scores to choose from, each wearing a strip of dyed fabric around one wrist to declare the identity of his or her temporary owner. Starved, fat, worn-down, fiery, children, women and men—they turned to us, shielding their eyes as their owners announced our arrival and commanded them to assemble for our inspection.

I studied each face—each set of pleading or venomous eyes, and felt my breath leave me. There was no possible choice I could make that would benefit everyone, nothing I could say to the many when I had left with my one.

A small gathering of men came toward us on the road. They pushed a bone-thin man out in front of them, laughing and taunting each time he stumbled. His skin was bare, wind-beaten, and bore the marks of being too long unprotected from the sun. When he fell, one of their number would set him upright once more and the cruel parade would begin anew.

The spectacle stole my attention away from the other slaves and droning merchants. I watched, holding my breath, as the group came closer. I couldn't see the details of their faces from the amount of dust they were disturbing with their display, but their taunts were carried to my ears without distortion.

"We're at the foot of the palace! Now we will see what price we can get for you."

As they came closer still, the din around me quieted. I took my eyes away long enough to notice that the loud group and their captive had the attention of every slave, merchant and passerby. It wasn't uncommon for prisoners of war to be stripped of their possessions or taunted upon capture, but the group before us bore no markings to show that they served in the king's army. I wondered briefly if they might have taken too much wine.

The men looked up at the sudden stillness and at once realised just how close they were to the gates. They guarded their eyes from the scrutiny of the people, surrounded the pathetic man whose head was hung low, and marched on in silence.

As they passed the place where I stood, the scorned man raised his head and peered at me through strands of sand-matted black hair, with eyes dark as deep water. A cool breeze caressed my shoulders as our eyes met, and I shivered despite the heat of the full sun.

The men stopped moving at the sound of my voice, though I do not remember it being any louder than a whisper.

"I would not advise that selection," said my companion. "Such a guard would not be assembled if he were not a dangerous man."

I could not disagree with him, and yet my curiosity pushed on. "What has this man done?" I asked them.

The closest captor took a defiant step toward me. He had a strong stance, with the exception of his drooping shoulders. They sloped down from his neck like twin waterfalls. "Who are you to question our business, boy?"

My companion stepped forward, ending any reply I might have given. "I am Theshen, chief advisor to the king." The insolent man opened his eyes in sudden recognition. He bowed his head immediately as Theshen continued. "This man could command the ground to swallow you up, and it would obey." He indicated me with a nod and placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "You will answer him with respect, for the king has richly blessed him and honoured him with a new name."

The prisoner was momentarily forgotten as sudden interest turned all eyes to my face. I fought not to retreat from their unwanted attention.

I closed my eyes. For all of his words, child was the one that refused to be ignored. I felt older than my years, but I did not have the time-hardened look of a man. Regardless, I had seen much in my short journey and had endured a lifetime of ridicule for something that the king, in contrast, had chosen to reward instead of punish. I had been fortunate this time.

Things happened around me when I lost control of my emotions. Some called it magic, some were afraid I was a portent of something worse yet to come, and others had seen the possibility of profit in my unpredictable abilities. I had not made peace with it—whatever it was. All I knew was that the last time I had made something happen, it had saved Pharaoh's life, and in turn I was given a world of attention I did not want.

I took in a long breath, balanced my thoughts and faced the man with sloping shoulders again.

He pushed down on the prisoner's shoulder. The weary man dropped to his knees in the dust of the road.

Theshen watched him for a moment and then spoke. "That is a serious crime. What is your name, friend?" he asked the accuser.

Khenti nodded in acknowledgment and shifted from one foot to the other. He seemed eager to be on his way. "We will now take our leave and not waste any more of your valuable time." He waved his hand and his followers advanced. One reached down to collect the fallen man.

Theshen casually blocked their way, his height forcing them to narrow their eyes against the sun. "Will he not go to trial?"

Khenti frowned and gazed around Theshen. "He is my property and my concern. I hope to both unload my burden…" He kicked up sand at his captive. "…and find profit this day."

Khenti exhaled. I watched his lips thin in frustration. Theshen, face calm and attentive, waited for the answer.

"He was once a free man, a priest and healer who earned his way by preparing perfumes, offerings and ointments for both the living and for the ones who now dwell with Osiris."

Theshen seemed more intrigued and took a slow walk around the circle of subdued guards. "Is he skilled?"

"Too much for his own good," one of them muttered under his breath. There was nothing remarkable about this one except he was more decorated than the others—a turquoise amulet around his neck and two bronze circlets around his left wrist.

The decorated man moved his eyes hastily toward Khenti and again to Theshen before answering. "He was unrivalled in our province, but he squandered his gifts, and lived beyond his means. Our father offered to pay his debts in exchange for his freedom and service until…"

"Enough!" Khenti shouted. "He is a cursed man with no family, no wife, no land, and he is not in service to Pharaoh. Look at this. Have you ever seen a priest with hair?"

"You are inventing as you speak. This is a personal grudge," Theshen reasoned. He turned his attention to the accused. "Are you what he claims you to be?"

"Hold your tongue!" Khenti bellowed. He ended his command with a blow to the back of the prisoner's head.

I ran to help him up from the dust. For all the heat, his skin was damp and cold. His thin, dirty hand left a mark where it gripped the new linen garment I wore. The people watched in stunned silence. I stared down the attacker until he withdrew.

I turned to the brother with the amulet. "And does your brother speak the truth about this man?"

He seemed to shrink under Khenti's severe glare. "He – true to my brother's words – was once a priest and a healer. He is now without land, wife or children."

Khenti's face became red with emotion. He shook with anger and turned to search the face of each of his brothers. None of them would meet his gaze, and none of them spoke.

They looked at their brother then, but he did nothing but shake with fury. His face turned from spots of red to a wash of purple. The brothers held their ground a moment longer. More people near the gates were making their way toward us to see the scene on the road.

Theshen called two of the palace guards to him and spoke to the brothers once more, composed and serene. "Please, friends, this matter is not worth a night in prison." The brothers looked around frantically while Khenti closed his eyes and inhaled. Some of his normal colour returned. "Stand aside," Theshen repeated.

"Every man in Egypt has a voice," I said to the weary man, muting my words from the men behind me. He looked at me. I was near enough to see the lines around his exhausted eyes, watch the sweat roll down his brow to a nose that curved like the beak of a falcon, and catch the scent of sweet wax too long left in his hair. I couldn't place his heritage, but the shape of his face and fair skin was similar to the people of the North, the ones who lived nearest the sea.

Theshen called my name, breaking the silence, and I realised I must have continued my gaze a moment longer than appropriate.

I gave a nod of my head and spoke again to the prisoner. "Will you speak your account of this accusation?"

He fell to his knees once more, not by force, but seemingly out of respect for fair treatment. I swallowed, and it did nothing to ease the discomfort of the situation.

"The eldest, Khenti, sent for me when his wife's time had come to bring their child into the world. The sun had been long dead to the dark, the wife was suffering and the child was not positioned for an uncomplicated passage. I was too late to do more than prepare them for their journey. This is my punishment."

"To be dragged to the city and sold?" I asked. I could not keep the astonishment from my voice.

He lifted his eyes to mine. "I do not believe they intended for me to reach these gates."

Khenti spoke, gesturing wildly at the sky. "He is not a young man. I assumed the journey would take him to the other world, but the gods were deaf to my aspirations."

Theshen raised his voice above the harsh whispers and shocked murmurings of the crowd. "I acknowledge your grief, but you do not honour your wife or family with your actions. You will return to your land and increase your offerings, so that the gods may forgive you for your menacing and for your heart of stone."

"Return my worthless healer and we will depart," Khenti countered, his voice pushed through closed teeth.

I nodded. I knew I wanted him, even though I couldn't form the words to give reason to my certainty. Theshen tightened his grip for a breath and then straightened up once more. He approached the angry brother.

Before any protest could be voiced, Theshen made a beckoning motion with his hand. A boy appeared and raised a heavy purse from a grain sack at his feet. Theshen took it from him with a nod and held it out to Khenti. He loosened the cloth, studied the coins, and lastly tested the weight of the purse. I could feel his inner battle—almost hear the voices planting thoughts in his mind of driving up the price. After a long moment, Khenti passed the purse to the brother who wore the amulet.

"All in this place will bear witness! This man now belongs to the king!" Theshen declared.

The prisoner curled in on himself, as if expecting to be struck once more, but the brothers, under the accusing eyes of the people, turned as one, without their captive, and retreated back down the road that had brought him to me.

A woman ran forward with a small jar of water. The beaten man refused it. She backed away, confusion heavy in her eyes.

"Harefre," Theshen swept his hand toward me as he talked to the slave, "has selected you to become his personal servant. You will live in the palace where your skill and devotion will be rewarded. You may accept, or choose to negotiate a new term of service with another master."

I was unsure if I should speak, but as the man laid his face down at my feet, my words vanished from my tongue.

It took a long moment to realise I was the one he had referred to. "Wait, sir – I am not..."

Theshen lifted his hand to the sun. In an instant the two guards raised the poor soul to his feet and led him gently to the palace.

My status declined from the child who conquered the king's assassin to palace fool, once word had spread that I had selected a feeble, sickly and possibly dangerous servant. From what I was able to coax out of Ipy, the girl who appeared daily with my clean garments, the whisperings were many and varied. Some assumed that I had recognised a distant relative and had purchased him out of devotion or responsibility. Others believed that the dust and heat had mired my judgement. There were the few who praised me as they would a son of the gods, blessed with an abundance of mercy, but the loudest voices were the mocking ones—never where the king might overhear. Those voices insisted that the king's new magician was nothing more than an over-privileged peasant.

Even I couldn't voice why I had chosen him, and that served only to stir the embers of the rumours.

I was out of my depth of understanding. All I could do was scratch at my uncomfortable clothing and wait for my servant to recover from his abuse enough so that I could speak with him.

He entered my room on his fifth day in the palace, still with the appearance of skin hanging over bones, but he carried himself with dignity and grace. In only a simple loin covering, he walked with purpose, wearing the posture of someone who had authority regardless of his station. I stopped adjusting the stiffened linen and studied him as he approached.

He was taller than I remembered, his hair clean, oil-treated and hanging to his shoulders. I had never seen a priest with long hair, but if the brothers were to be believed, it had been years since he served the gods. His gaze roamed the room as he walked, taking in every detail until the dark eyes from my memory were suddenly fixed on me.

I was speechless under his attention and felt the need to lower my eyes first, but I held the gaze to uphold the expectations of my position. My fingertips played over my thumbs as the long moment stretched out. A familiar shiver ran over my shoulders, and I fought the insistent urge to embrace him as an equal.

He lowered his head and attempted to kneel. He was covering the pain well, but I could see the stiffness in his movement.

He placed a hand on the floor and continued his awkward descent. "It will be necessary in the future, so I will kneel now," he said through his teeth.

I grasped his arms and waited for his eyes to lift. "You're in pain," I said in earnest. I released him to stand by his own power.

He seemed to accept my concern, but he placed his hand back on the floor and carried on. "The king has an image to uphold. It would not be wise for you or anyone in your household to appear weak."

I closed my eyes for an instant at his stubbornness and then waved my hand at the empty room. "We are alone. There is no one here to impress," I told him plainly.

"That is of no importance to me," he said with unwavering certainty. I surrendered and took a small step back, convinced that this was sign enough that I was not destined to be more than a fortunate orphan. I could not even command my own servants.

"I would rather appear weak than cause anyone under my care to suffer," I told him truthfully.

He completed his formal bow, struggled back to his feet and faced me. It felt as if we were opponents rather than servant and master.

"Then your position has been wasted, and you are a fool, my Lord," he said sharply, turning away to collect the old bed linen before leaving me.

The moon had bloomed and faded on its journey, and I still knew very little about the man who shadowed me when I required him and vanished when I did not. As he regained his strength and carried out his duties, I sometimes caught glimpses of the man he might have been before his pitiless voyage to the city – before he had traded his freedom for his life.

He was a man of great intellect and sharp speech, that was certain, and yet to see him work the soil and prepare every type of medicine or perfume required in the palace was to watch a devoted man of skill. His hands moved over the ingredients with practiced ease and grace, never wasting a measure, never harvesting more than required.

There was already a chief physician who called the palace his home – Anum, personal healer to the king. My servant had spent only one day in his care before requesting that he be allowed to recover in separate quarters, far away from Anum's unskilled hands and worthless nostrums. Similar stories of the ineptitude of the king's healer had travelled with great speed around the palace. Enough time had passed that most preferred to risk their own remedies or leave their fate to the care of the gods, rather than venture any treatment from Anum.

Why the king did not have him replaced was a mystery I would never know the answer to.

When the people received whispered word of a competent former healer in the palace, slave or not, the corridor outside my rooms quickly became a place of gathering for anyone with an ailment or injury.

At first, he turned them away, claiming he was overburdened enough with caring for me to see anyone else. Yet one night, long after the sun had died for the day, a child's pained cries compelled him to help her and her mother.

I arose and offered my bed when the moonlight fell on the child's damaged leg. Her mother's breath was carried away with anguish, but I heard the word 'oxen' when she tried to convey what had happened. Suddenly, the child's weeping quieted, and I felt my night garment shiver as my servant rushed by me to inspect her. The moonlight stole her colour and gave the illusion that she would not see the sun's rebirth, but she only stared at the long hair of the man sitting beside her, and wiped at her wet eyes with my bed linen.

Then those skilled hands, hands I had studied for hours, became gentle in the space of a breath. He lowered his voice, distracting her with soothing words too low for my ears to decipher, as the fingers of one hand danced lightly over the ruined skin, treating the undamaged places as someone might cradle a new egg. The other hand seemed to be resting palm-down in the middle of her chest, but I knew it was an illusion, knew in my heart that neither she nor her mother could see the pale glow of magic seeping from his skin into the child's. Before I recovered from my shock enough to ask if I could be of assistance, the wounds had been cleaned and covered and the fearful mother reassured.

I had more motivation to watch him after that night. We were two of a very precious few, and yet he had never mentioned his concealed talent to me. Perhaps he had thought my triumph over the king's assassin was a product of invention. I had been unable to produce any wondrous acts since he had become my servant. Whatever the reason, my mind spun with more unanswered questions.

Days passed, the moon journeyed toward the fullness of Horus' full eye, and yet nothing was said between us of the event. He artfully led me through our brief conversations, often keeping his head properly lowered and his answers painfully polite. The fire had gone from his eyes and he became deaf to the insistent tapping of citizens who had seen what he had done for the child, and sought his attention and skill.

His ever-changing temperament both confused and fascinated me, so much so that Theshen and Ipy often needed to repeat their questions to me when my thoughts had settled too long on Severus.

It wasn't a common name. I enjoyed turning it over in my mind and moving the sounds around inside my mouth as I pondered the mystery of his actions. When I was sure to be alone, I whispered the name to the winds and to the palace cobras that seemed to enjoy echoing it back as I covered their baskets at night.

I had kept the secret of his magic well hidden, but the mother of the child had not been as silent. Her joy spilled over the city walls and stirred up rumours of a true healer within the palace. I felt the change, sharp like the crack of a storm-filled sky, and knew that it would pull at us like the pangs of hunger until we fed the growing crowd what they wanted. I also knew it would not be long until news of what was happening made its way to Anum's ears, and ultimately to Pharaoh's.

I organised a plan to confront him and acted upon it the next morning while Severus was in the palace gardens, selecting our food for the day. I prayed to the newly born sun that this attempt would be more successful than my silence.

I walked quietly through the olive grove, inhaling the rich scent and trying to let the tranquility of the place fill my head and soothe my heart. The greyish-green leaves rustled softly as I passed. I smiled and stretched out my fingertips to brush the young silver branches as I continued forward.

My hands dropped to my sides and I spun to face him. Any peace I had gleaned from the life magic within the trees had fallen away and left my heart startled and racing.

"I came looking for you," was not what I had intended to say. I tried to quickly think of a proper response, but Severus was already lowering the full basket and preparing to kneel. Perhaps he'd seen someone I had not.

"Severus, please. Stand," I whispered. "You know there is no need to… " I took a breath to clear my mind and focused on the light breeze that danced over my skin. "I was wondering if you would speak with me about an important matter?" It sounded plausible enough, but his eyes became guarded and focused on something higher than my eyes. I smoothed the hair of my wig over my forehead and once more attempted to speak with him, but I was not quick enough.

"Please, Master, follow me." His voice was soft and respectful, and yet his back straightened as I followed him out of the grove. I had to quicken my pace or I would have lost sight of him around the olive press.

The gardens were truly empty, and yet he was rushing toward some unknown destination, surveying the land as would an agitated falcon. As we reached the shade of the irrigation wall, he darted around a pillar and out of sight. Even with my youth on the scales, I was short of breath when I finally reached the blessed shade. A hand closed around my wrist and pulled me into the small room where the overlarge water jars were kept.

I stumbled forward into Severus as he released my hand and pulled the wig from my head. His thumb wiped the dust away from my scar, the only one that was older than my memory – the one I tried to conceal.

I stood in the prison of his hands, frozen for the space of a breath, overcome with surprise and confusion. It was forbidden for a servant to touch his or her master without orders or permission, but I was quick to remember that our relationship had never followed the line of the feather. We were unique in our association, but even so, his actions were unacceptable.

"Release me," I growled under my breath, embarrassed and bewildered by his behaviour. He lowered his hands but continued to study my now-bare head.

"No." I tried to communicate my irritation in the single word, but he countered with a look of doubt that scratched at my patience even more, so I continued. "He rewarded me because I took a life to save the body he lives in – no more."

He ignored my anger, pulled his eyes away from mine and gazed again at my scar. "But that is only true in part. The king was grateful, certainly, but I am firm in my belief that he looked upon your mark and knew it for what it was."

I stepped back from him and reclaimed my wig. I felt my skin heat under his gaze.

"Perhaps," he agreed. "Could you not also argue that you have been given a great gift?"

His prodding lit a spark under my dried-up emotions, and they blazed anew. My past broke free and fed words to my mouth that I had never said aloud to anyone, and yet I could not hold them back.

"Gift? This," I jabbed a finger at my forehead, "marked me as friendless from birth: feared, ignored, ridiculed and disregarded. My relatives said my parents drowned themselves in the river out of shame, and forbade me to ever mention them again. No one would admit to having any knowledge of my mother or father, for fear that they too would be punished with a strange and dangerous child."

My chest heaved as if I had run the entire span of the garden under the mid-life sun. "A gift you can choose to embrace or reject. I was never given the choice."

I inhaled the heat of the room, closed my eyes and rolled my head slowly, drawing my anger close. When I opened my eyes, he was trailing one long finger around the rim of a jar.

"Yes, for you there is a choice," I said slowly. "You have control, focus. My magic is as unpredictable as the wind." I tried to keep my tone stable, but it pulled itself up the ladder rung by rung as my words poured out. "Pharaoh expects great things of me. It is only through the mercy of the gods that he has yet to command me to perform something I am incapable of. When that day comes to pass, my scar, my mark of magic will count as dirt under his sandals!"

I was startled into silence, but long-kept bitterness churned within me and battled with my hunger to connect with someone else who shared my burden. I controlled my emotions to the best of my ability and studied him with clear eyes. What he returned was a tangled look of remorse and defiance.

I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds within and without. It was a game I had created as a child, something that would focus my attention away from the pain of punishment or the discomfort of hunger pangs. I listened to the movement of my breath, the groaning of the olive press, the whispering of insects behind the jars and the single cry of a vulture somewhere out beyond the walls.

I narrowed my focus further to uncover more: fingers of the wind brushing the dust from my sandals, the laughter of children in the southern courtyard, the faint tap of a drop of water hitting stone, the rhythmic drumming of life inside myself and the warm, rich scent of dill lingering on Severus' fingers.

I opened my eyes at the awed hush of his voice. "It sings for us all. Most have forgotten how to listen."

"You are right – and you are wrong. The heavens, the soil and the sea move and change with the will of the gods. Just now, they were performing only for you."

He brushed at his left arm as if an insect had been crawling there. "I felt your call on my skin – tasted it on the air."

I looked away from him and waited in silence. I listened for his rejection, his rebuke and his retreat. I did not expect his worn fingers to gently tighten around my wrist.

"I apologise for my behaviour," he said, removing his hand. "I had assumed you were magician in name only – as counterfeit as Anum."

I believed the truth of his words. "There are many who make claims, but I have never met another with true abilities…" I met his eyes and lost my words.

I nodded, set the wig back on my head and sat down in the dirt at the base of a large basket. "Why do you take care to hide it from me?"

He sat across from me, and I noticed the new ease with which he now moved. His body was healing, but the health of his spirit was still unknown to me. He looked at me then with gentle eyes through the dancing dust of the small room, and a portion of my fear fell away.

He nodded. "It is not only you I have been hiding my magic from. My past is not unlike your own. My abilities have been both embraced and rejected." He took in a long breath and closed his eyes to reconnect with his memories. "I had skill beyond any other priest or physician in our province. Even as a child I knew in my heart which herbs and incantations would heal the most minor of ailments, to the greatest of illnesses. I sang to the gods and they responded, blessing me richly for my devotion."

His joyous recollections were at variance with his stone-set expression. I sat in attentive silence and gave him leave to continue in his own time.

"I bathed in the power that flowed through me. It unearthed reminiscences of my youth – brought visions of those who had mistreated and hated the strange child I once was. I uncovered the mound of disgust I had buried, and set a new goal to repay them all with my unmatched success.

"I became overconfident and arrogant. I allowed my hair to grow out to suit my own comfort, convinced that I was beyond the need to purify myself before entering the temples. I observed gradual changes, limitations in my abilities and the look of fear on the faces that had once gazed upon me with awe. When I was unable to keep Khenti's wife and child in this life, I knew the time of my punishment had come. In the light of the new sun, the village cried that I had been cursed, and demanded I be banished or killed."

"The earth thrives and survives on the principles of balance. Somewhere in my heart I knew that I had overburdened the scales in my favour. It was time to pay what I owed."

"And you had not used your magic until that trampled child was swept into our rooms."

"Yes, and no. I had nothing to call upon. My magic left me the moment Khenti's wife and child departed this earth. I held my hand over the girl child by habit that night, not expecting magic to come, but it answered me. I had to turn my face away when her mother wept with joy."

I exhaled in mild frustration. "But I have seen what you can produce. A child was saved because of your skill. I could do the same – finally use this…" I waved a hand at my forehead. "…for something of value!"

I traced the shape of a falcon absently on the floor. "Should not Pharaoh know of your gifts?"

His tone was steady and devoid of emotion. "If you choose, but I neither require nor seek any reward from him."

I thought closely about my words. "Once he knows, he will summon you," and you will be gone from me, was the painful thought that remained unspoken.

I continued speaking as my thoughts formed. "It would be a great honour for you and a chance to restore balance. No doubt you would quickly earn his favour as a proficient physician."

"It would be a great honour, although I have seen many men fall in and out of the Pharaoh's favour in the blink of an eye."

We were silent for a time, both content with our unspoken thoughts, until Severus clapped the dust from his hands. It caused him to cough, and we both laughed under our breaths at the odd situation.

"If you allow it," he began, "I wish to stay in your service. My youth is gone, and I would rather live out my days in peace than be tempted again by glory and pleasure that is short-lived and is tethered to a price too high."

I had believed that he took as much pleasure in serving me as I did in holding authority over him, and yet, he had chosen a lifetime of service to me over the elevation and privilege of Pharaoh's court. I did not understand his choice, but my heart was glad for his words. I nodded my approval.

We sat a moment longer in silence until my thoughts returned to what he had said about no longer having his youth.

When he arrived at the palace, I might have called him 'old', but with the combined blessings of food, cool water, rest and fortune from the gods, his health had improved, leaving the man I saw before me – tall and straight as a river reed. There were lineaments that tallied his years on the earth, but they were honourable markings, each holding a story, a secret and a thousand dying suns.

I shifted to fold my legs underneath me, not caring about the dirt on my garments. The movement set me a fraction closer to him. I realised that we had never sat so near to each other before.

"You have many years left," I said quietly, still trying to read the map of his face as it moved under my examination.

"Perhaps, but the fact remains that I have seen the passage of time—both in the land and on my own skin."

At the sound of approaching footsteps, we stood. Severus reclaimed his basket of vegetables and herbs, and I lowered a drinking bag into the nearest jar of water. The child Severus had healed appeared in the doorway, holding an empty drinking bag of her own. I exchanged it for the full one I held. She smiled, bowed to us both, and hurried away.

Anum entered a moment later, blinking in the sudden dimness of the room. He feigned surprise at our presence. I would have believed him sincere if I had not seen the child a moment before. He bowed deeply, far too formal for the setting and lack of audience.

I chose a greeting to match his formal address. "Arise, Anum, chief physician to the king."

His fat cheeks turned pink. "Oh, dear boy and gracious heart. It does this old man well to look upon you." He turned squinting eyes to Severus. "And you, are you well, good servant?"

Severus touched a knee to the floor in greeting and rose before Anum could command him. "Very well."

His pleased expression wilted in contrast to his words. "That is most wonderful. I was concerned when you left my care so soon after arriving."

He stepped between us, his well-fed belly forcing me to bounce back a few paces. "There are whisperings, dear servant – rumours that you were once in the favour of the gods, and that you still practice healing and prepare cures for Pharaoh's subjects."

Severus tipped his forehead toward me. "Upon my master's request, I compose ointments and creams common in every household."

Anum pressed forward. His movement trapped Severus against the jars. "And what have you been producing for others, slave?"

"I use my skills only for my master. I know my place." Severus' voice poured out like honey, but his head stayed low in submission.

The old healer's face lost all gentleness in the blink of an eye. "See that you do." He turned to leave, stirring the dust with his long tunic. "If not, your time under the king's protection will be short-lived."

The word had weight, power, but I was not ready to be calm. I turned to him. "Did you not hear his insults?"

Severus lifted and dropped his shoulders. "I heard the growling of a pampered dog. Nothing more."

I stepped to the entrance and watched the arrogant man weave his way back to the palace through the gardens. Severus stood at my back.

"This is why I will not teach you. I do not want my past to shape your future. As you learn how to yoke the very power of the gods, the temptation for abuse is immense."

I pressed my hand against the sun-warmed pillar. "How do you know I will fall into temptation?"

"Because your power will isolate you from the world. You will need comfort and someone to trust, but there will be no one who will stay. Most fear what they do not understand."

I wore the mark of intolerance on my skin, had slept alone with it as an unloved child, and even while wrapped in the finest garments and surrounded by the gratitude of the king, I knew it still kept me apart from the rest – except one.

My body burned. The pain was so vast that I could not identify the cause or source. My head was a stone too great for me to lift, and my thoughts were slow to come – thick and distorted like the death of the evening sun.

Light flickered somewhere in the room, and the air was heavy with sesame oil from the lamps. It declared that night had come, but I could not coax my eyelids open enough to confirm the truth.

The memories came next, vivid, as real as the crushed linen clasped in my fists: Severus and I returning from the gardens to the palace for a meal; Anum at my door with accusations of housing a false physician, and holding orders from the king for an audience with my servant; walking down the corridor – a palace guard on each side – to speak with the king on Severus' behalf; and the first stinging slice of the whip on my back, blood colouring the stone as if it were spilled dye.

I heard someone move close by, their sandals disturbed the silence. I made a pained sound and the movement ceased. Without warning, fingers grasped mine – fingers I knew. Severus.

I made an attempt, but my mouth felt like it belonged to someone else – too big, too dry, unresponsive. There was more movement, the sound of liquid dripping into a bowl, but the pain stole away any curiosity I had to watch Severus work. The skin from the top of my shoulders to the back of my lower legs stung, exposed to the night air until Severus returned to my side. I found comfort in the nearness of him, trusted my damaged body to his skill. If I were to continue in this life, Severus would know the shortest path back to health.

I felt a sponge at my lips. I sucked out the medicine as best as I was able from my position. There was the familiar taste of palace wine paired with the tang of a fruit I could not put a name to. He dried my mouth and chin when I could drink no more.

"I have a bandage soaked in ointment required for healing your skin and protecting your wounds from dust and insects. It will bring more discomfort, but it will be fleeting."

Pain surged though me as the cool, wet linen settled over the damage. I cried out and felt no shame. I had held my tongue when the whip had fallen, counted all ten lashings without a sound or a tear, but in the safety of my rooms and under Severus' care, the screams poured out of me, travelled up the thick walls and out the small, high windows to be swallowed by the night.

When the pain had dulled, he washed my face, took my wig, and placed a cool, clean bandage over my head. I drifted between sleep and wakefulness as he whispered in a language I did not know. As the world of dreams claimed me, I heard his song, the chant that would awaken the gods and unveil their healing magic.

"Humbled before your presence, I call to you and bow down before thee, Isis, Source of Life, Patroness of Magicians, Healer of Every Hurt, She Who Knows the Orphan…"

The song continued, sweet in my ears, filling my heart with comfort and peace, but the voice no longer belonged to Severus. A bird's song surrounded me and urged me to rise up from my useless body. A soft hand, a woman's hand, guided me to my feet and I stood in awe, knowing her instantly. I fell again to the ground before her.

Her image was as fluid as her voice, shifting from the shape of a woman to a bird of prey and back once more, skin and feathers glowing like the moon in the night sky. When I did not rise, she knelt and took me in human arms, wrapped me in the softest feathers and sang as my heart was overcome with the honour I had received.

"Brave, foolish boy. You suffer hurt and carry burdens you were never meant to carry. When others are in need, you fight as would a king. You have the heart of a Pharaoh and the ambition of an ox."

"Yes, I know you hunger for answers, for purpose and a place that is truly yours."

I lifted my eyes to her at last, and was overcome with wonder. She lowered her mouth to kiss my scar and it thrummed with warmth, power, and magic. It felt familiar, true. Though dreaming, I knew this moment would live in my heart forever.

I longed to ask more, to sit by her feet as she spoke of my parents and why they had left me to a childhood of neglect and emptiness, but I knew she would only reveal what was necessary or what she wished. Not often did the gods allow mortals to dictate the direction of a soul dream.

"I will send you a vision when your time has come to leave. You will know it as truth when it comes to you."

"He has his own path. It may intersect with your own or it may not. He has yet to decide."

I remained silent – curled in the arms of a goddess – as lost as when I began.

I whispered my gratitude into the darkness as her image and touch faded from me. As my soul settled once again into my body, I heard her voice on the wind: "Do not fear your gifts, your power. If you were not trusted, not capable, you would not have been so blessed. Find comfort in the knowledge that your mother and father found great joy in you. Their crossing was born out of protection, out of love. Be at peace, sweet child."

I opened my eyes as the scent of fragrant smoke broke my slumber. I gasped for air and Severus appeared, lines of worry and annoyance around his dark eyes.

"Your body is whole," he whispered fearfully. "I have never before seen what I have witnessed here."

"What has…?" I choked on the words, my mouth too dry to form them. I reached out my hand and he helped me to sit. A cup of cool water appeared in my other hand. Severus' eyes studied the cup as I drank.

"It was not a deliberate request, I…" I fought with my words, still weary and warm from my slumber. "I envisioned something to drink, and it appeared. Similar calls have not been as successful in the past."

I tried an explanation. "When I was young, I was forced to beg. Because I appeared whole, most passed me by and took pity on the truly needy."

"Yes. If I returned with some coin, I was allowed to join the others for a simple meal. If not, I slept hungry. I would close my eyes and send my requests to the sky – not for anything beyond what I deserved, but for something to quiet the dull ache that would become a roar by morning."

"Never when I asked for it. Often I would encounter someone with a kind heart who would offer me an extra fig, some bread, or a cup of wine for assisting them with small tasks. I never was sure of my future, but there were others for whom life was not even as good as mine. The gods took care of me in ways I did not expect."

"Yes. If you stay in the favour of the king, it is certain that you will never again feel the grind of an empty belly."

"There are worse things to fear," I said, resting back on my bed once more. Although healed, my head was still heavy with the effects of the wine.

I smiled, remembering the peace and comfort I had felt in her arms. "Yes. She was beauty and power and grace all at once. She held me as a mother would hold a distressed child." I looked up at him. "Did I speak?"

I touched my scar briefly. "She placed her lips on my scar and told me to trust, to embrace my power." I laughed softly. Severus appeared confused by my reaction. I shared my amusement with him. "She echoed your words to me."

"My eyes are opening. I will try to welcome my magic and not fight it. Perhaps it begins with a cup of water."

I closed my eyes and searched my memories. "I heard your song," I told him. "I believe it carried me to the place where she appeared."

"Yes. I burned sweet-smelling woods for your journey and protected the wounds with a bandage soaked in balsam balm."

Severus removed a clean sheet from the linen basket and laid it over me. "What else transpired in your dream?"

I tried to hold fast to the images, but they had already begun to fade back into the other world. I pulled one detail from the swirl of colours and feathers. "I asked if she would heal me, and she said: 'Your pain has ended'." There was more – much more, but I held it close and kept the rest of her words in my heart.

"That is what I witnessed – many days of healing in the blink of an eye. I thought I had called forth my own magic, but you continued to heal, even when I ceased my chanting."

Severus slid a pillow stuffed with herbs under my head. The fresh fragrance was comforting.

His palm pressed lightly against my forehead. "You were in great pain. I mixed Mandrake with the wine to force your sleep. I wanted to ease your suffering."

I felt fortunate to have someone care about my comfort and security as much as I cared for his. "You will have my gratitude, always." I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the night. Everything was as it should have been, but I felt a strange tension from my companion. My eyes opened.

The relief I had witnessed in his own eyes changed swiftly to a violent storm. He reclaimed his hand, got to his feet and glared down at me.

His voice was tight and cautious. "You said you were going to speak to Pharaoh on my behalf, and you returned beaten and unable to stand."

I pushed back the cover and sat. I reached for his hand. "I did not want you to suffer the same. I'm not as…" I was unsure how to communicate what I had felt when the punishment was announced. I decided honesty would be the best path. "I knew I would survive."

He exhaled loudly and walked to the high, small table across the room from where I sat. He pressed his hands into the hard surface and kept his face turned away. "It was a risk too great."

I stood. "It is the task of a master to protect his servant and the reputation of his house. To accuse you, they accused me, so I served the punishment."

I had only once before worn the sandals of protector, and I still questioned my actions. For this, what I had done for Severus, I would never be ashamed. I walked to his side.

"I would endure a hundred more punishments to spend a moment more in your company." The certainty in my words surprised me, but they held only truth. "It is no small thing that our paths have crossed."

I knelt, took his hand and brought it to my lips. I would be his master when other eyes fell on us, but my very being knew he was more than my equal. In the quiet of the room, I was content to hold my position, but his hands closed around my arms and urged me to stand.

The lamps were burning low, casting large shadows on the wall and over our skin. I gazed into his dark eyes. The anger had gone, but he had replaced it with the stillness of a hunter, the focused, ready pose of a cat before the kill. I closed my eyes and called to his magic, not certain if it would respond. A faint wind touched my shoulders and surrounded us in the comforting warmth of the night. At his hushed gasp, I opened my eyes.

He embraced me then and I pressed my face over his heart. I listened to the steady rhythm as my own heart sang in answer. My tears fell onto his skin. He stepped back one pace and took my face in his hands.

I held fast to his arms. "To be embraced as family, as a dear friend, as a…" My face burned in the near-darkness. "I have never experienced it."

My hands moved to cover his. "I would endure much worse if this was always my reward."

He laughed softly. It was a wonderful sound. "The incense and tonic has distorted your ability to reason."

I laughed with him, nodded and swayed when his hands fell away, overcome in the moment, drunk on the mixture of magic and his touch.

He led me to my bed. I rested my head again on the pillow he had made for me, and watched through heavy eyelids as he crossed the room, collected his mat, and placed himself within my reach.

I whispered back to him in the darkness. "You have never been otherwise – except with your magic."

I used my weariness and the soothing aroma of the herbs to set aside my fears and share my tale with him. He listened attentively as I recreated the setting of my youth and spoke of my relatives as kindly as possible, considering we shared not a dram of caring for each other.

"Two seasons ago, I met an old man from the East who was taking his few camels into the city to sell. He fell sick in our village and was unable to make the trip. The man who had taken him in – a distant relative – was talking to a group of men on the street about the expense of caring for him."

"You offered to take the camels to the city, get a fair price and return the money to his family."

I rolled to my side. "Yes. And it was a fortunate journey. I met Theshen at the gates and knew in my heart that he could be trusted. I never knew why he treated me fairly when all others seemed to retreat at first sight of my scar."

I took in a deep breath and smiled at how small I had felt at the time, but Theshen had always seen more in me than I saw in myself. It was as if he had chosen to forget my days of poverty, and saw only the man he believed I was.

"He negotiated the sale for me, bought my first wig, and sent me back to the village with a full purse and a message for one of the prominent local merchants. Upon my return, Theshen informed me that I would be a palace messenger – which came with a small amount of coin and a bed for my effort. I was nearing the age to marry or to establish a home, but I knew that was not my path. I accepted the position and believed I had achieved as much as someone with my past could accomplish."

"I was at the top of the garden stairs, imparting a message to Theshen when the king appeared at our side. We knelt on the marble, and he greeted us with a blessing." I could see it so vividly behind my closed eyes. I remembered the odd silence of the birds and the shimmer of heat that rose up from the stone.

"Before the stranger appeared, I felt his anger wash over me. I stood quickly, searching the trees for the source of the fury. Theshen leapt into a protective position, the only time we were to ever show our backs to Pharaoh. The man came from behind, out from the cover of the great statue. I turned at the sound of his sandals and our eyes met. Before Theshen could change his position, the blade was raised. I threw myself forward, brushing the king's side as my hands met with the assassin's chest."

My heart beat with excitement at the retelling, but also with regret. I was not proud of ending the man's earthly life – no matter what his crime.

"Theshen told me I cried out when I collided with the man and then fell down at Pharaoh's feet like a bag of grain. From here, I only have Theshen's account. As he was moving the king to safety, the attacker collapsed beside me - lifeless. He said my hands had left a mark of white where they had touched. As he watched, the white points of each finger mark spread out like the mighty canals of the Nile, carving out meandering paths along and over his body until all that remained was a marble statue."

I lowered my hand to his shoulder. His hand met mine and closed around it. Then I was carried again into slumber – content as never before.

Four men huddled in a small, dark room thick with the scent of sesame. The low door opened and Anum, dressed in his finest garments, swept into the room. He stumbled, stirring up the dust, as the tallest man blocked his approach.

"If this is palace hospitality, I wish never to be summoned here again!" he bellowed.

"Peace, Khenti, my friend," Anum said, and placed a pale hand on Khenti's sun-darkened arm. "You are right. These are not flattering or fitting accommodations for one such as you and your honourable brothers, but this summons comes from myself, Anum, chief physician to the king, and concerns an urgent and secret matter."

Khenti shook free of the grasp. "Urgent enough that you kept us waiting outside the city walls in the merciless heat, and then longer still in this small box of a room, once darkness had fallen? Whatever your secret matter may be, I have no interest in being treated in this fashion. It is an insult!"

Anum held his hands up in a calming gesture. "Please, my friend, lower your voice and I will reward you greatly for all you have endured by my inconsideration."

"Speak, then. We have families who await our return." He gestured to his brothers seated behind him on a low bench.

"I have reason to believe you have been cheated," Anum baited.

"And why is that any concern of yours? You know we are not of this land, and yet you declare your alarm that we strangers have not been treated fairly? If you do not untangle your words and present some fact…" Khenti threatened. He took a strong stride forward to communicate without words. Anum, startled, sprang back into the single table. The lamp rocked and sputtered but did not go out.

"I have concern because I have also been cheated by the same two men who have done you the wrong: Severus, your former servant and the boy magician whom Pharaoh calls Harefre."

Khenti regarded him with cold eyes. "There was no misdeed. The king's advisor paid us a fair sum, and we were glad to rid ourselves of the curse that physician brought upon us."

"Severus has skill I have never before witnessed," Anum said with certainty. "He produces cures where another may only be able to offer treatment. I have seen the healed and whole leg of a young child who had been trampled by oxen only a few short days before. Her mother swears that it is true."

Khenti swung his head around and stared wild-eyed at his brothers. "He told us his magic had gone. He said the gods no longer spoke through him – that he had fallen out of favour…"

"Not true, my friend. He continues his work here, under the false title of servant to this magician. He saves others. He could have saved your wife – your child."

Khenti collapsed onto the bench, stunned as if he had been struck.

The brother with the amulet spoke softly. "If he still possessed his magic, why did he let us take him? Why did he not defend himself? He was half-dead when we arrived at the gates."

Anum smiled, cold and victorious. "He feigned weakness to provoke mercy from the young magician floundering for a foothold and seasoned guidance. The boy himself recognised the distant kinship they shared with the gods, and swayed your judgment with his powers. He knew you could demand any price, but his hunger for the power your healer could give him filled his heart with greed."

Khenti stood, looked at the physician with new eyes, and went to Anum's side. "And how have they wronged you, friend?"

"By continuing to heal, Severus has over-stepped the duties of a servant and has turned my trusted fellow citizens away from my door. Once he gains the favor of the king, my days will not be long. I fear for the kingdom. I fear for what their hunger for power will accomplish."

The brothers exchanged troubled glances.

"Then they must be stopped," Khenti said, forming his hand into a fist.

Anum lowered his eyes in false reverence. "I knew you would help me to balance the scales again. A great wrong as they have done you should not go unpunished."

"And if they are allowed to continue unopposed in their goals?" another brother asked from the shadows.

"I do not claim to know the future, nor am I able to decipher the heavens, but I fear without their removal, Egypt may fall."

I awoke to the sound of choking and the suffocating sting of smoke. Severus was gone from under my hand and my heart leapt with sudden panic. I stood and staggered forward. Fire was everywhere. Burning clouds churned the air, casting red, orange, grey, blue and black. I closed my eyes against the sting and tried to think through the alarm that paralyzed me.

Hands grasped at my legs and I fell to my knees. I tried to speak, but the air seemed to burn with every breath. Another tug on my arm brought me to the floor and nearly under my bed.

At the sound of Severus' voice, my dread lessened, but as the room continued to blaze around us, I knew our time was short. I pulled my knees underneath me.

"The doorway is blocked and the windows are too high and too small." I needed the smoke gone. I needed to see. "Help me focus, just this once," I begged.

I felt him come up on his knees behind me. Without hesitation his hands found the skin of my back and moved outward. They traced down my arms until our fingers met. He stretched outwards until we mimicked the shape of a bird in flight.

I did not know what to do, but I knew what I desired. The moment I felt our magic converge, I thought, Winds of night, reclaim this room. For too long, nothing happened. I could feel Severus shuddering above and behind me and knew that we would not be able to last much longer.

A breeze played over my shoulders and carried the promise of fresh air. Severus' grip on my hand tightened.

Behind my closed lids, I imagined a god who would feed on the smoke. He would exhale into the night and then turn his giant mouth to my three small windows and slowly inhale the black roiling mass.

The air was clearing, but my eyes still burned and filled with tears. I blinked and the air became clearer still until I could begin to see what we had accomplished. The smoke was moving in waves toward the windows, like a black sea rolling to the shore. It slid without a sound out the small openings and was gone.

Severus' head dropped onto my shoulder. "Perhaps it is you who should teach me."

I gave a weary laugh through the burning of my lungs and pressed my cheek against his hair. He lowered our arms as we surveyed the damage.

Every basket and wall hanging had been set alight, but the fire had nearly exhausted its fuel. It took only a quick thought to extinguish the remaining flames with magic, and I was surprised at my success.

Severus turned me in his arms and wiped the ash from my face with the ruined bed covering. It filled my heart with relief and joy to see him unharmed, but there was no time for celebration.

Theshen handed me a cup of wine and I emptied it before he had filled another for Severus. My eyes still burned, but a bath and clean garments had helped to put the attempt on our lives at a reasonable distance.

"The brothers and Anum have been captured," Theshen said. "They will receive a trial, three days from now, overseen by the king himself."

"Your impassioned account of your vision, the tearful witness provided by Ipy and the dismal sight of you both," he gestured between Severus and myself, "helped to solidify the truth in his heart."

There was something more in Theshen's eyes, something of pride, but also of regret.

There was one other matter that I wished to know the king's reaction to. "He saw the skin of my back, noticed that I was healed?"

"Yes. He was pleased you no longer suffered, but in truth, it also troubled him."

"Why would he be troubled?" I asked him. "It was my choice to bear the punishment he handed down."

I studied his face and I saw Theshen nod in agreement. "I do not understand. My magic has harmed no one."

Then I remembered the assassin. "Well – yes, him, but there is no reason for the king to fear me. Everything I have done has been for the good of the kingdom."

"You turned a man to stone. You endured ten lashings and a room full of fire this very evening, and here you stand, whole and unmarked." He looked to Severus. "You are unrivalled as a physician, and yet, a slave. What has the king done to equal or exceed what you both have accomplished?" Theshen stepped closer still and lowered his voice. "He holds you in favour now, but what will happen when the people truly know the source of the wonders that come to pass within the city walls?"

I looked to Severus, but he simply studied his wine as it swirled around in the cup. I turned back to Theshen and searched for the connection I had missed. Yes, my recovery was impressive, and yes, if I had not recovered from the whip, Severus and I might not have survived the fire…

I stared at him as if he were an old man who discussed politics with the palace cats.

He took a breath and clarified. "It is essential that he is the most powerful being in the kingdom. The people must not question his divinity, nor his ability to rule as a man."

Theshen placed a hand on my shoulder. "He once regarded you as a blessing, a guardian sent to bring him immortality on the earth, but your wonders are beyond his duplication. He fears that soon, the people will turn their worship to you and cry out your name – and not his."

I stared once more, stunned by his words. "But I would never desire that path." I looked beseechingly at them both. "You know I have no wish to be a god or a king."

"Even so," Severus began, "his fears will not be as easily blown away as smoke."

Theshen nodded, patted my shoulder and took a step back. "And this brings us to the news I have been ordered to deliver to you." He again wore a smile weighed down with too many emotions. I sat down close beside Severus on the bench, and Theshen remained silent for a moment, his eyes taking in our position of equality.

"Pharaoh has granted you both freedom. You are now, from this moment, free men. Along with this blessing, you will be given as many animals, garments and supplies as you need for your journey from the city."

I suddenly remembered the message that the goddess had given to me, and my reservations vanished. I touched Severus' hand in excitement. "She said my vision would herald the appointed time of my departure."

"Then remove the look of shock from your face and have Ipy begin the preparations," he teased.

There were many things that I wanted to say to Theshen, now that I knew our time together was nearing an end, but the words would not come. As if sharing my burden, he embraced me briefly and whispered a blessing for safe travel. When I handed him the assassin's blade, he tried to refuse, but I was determined.

"Please, friend, let this be my gift to you. It should live with the king's protector."

He nodded, placed the dagger in his belt, embraced me once more and bowed formally before leaving the room.

When he had gone, the silence drew in around me and I felt a moment of apprehension. I knew it was time to leave, perhaps the only chance I would ever have to exit the city as a man of my own, but to take that first step toward the door was more difficult than I had imagined.

"You have nothing to fear," Severus said plainly. "Pharaoh is true to his word. He will do all he has promised."

The faint light of the new sun drifted down from the window above where Severus sat, separating us with its warm beam. I recalled all that had transpired in the night, all that we had said to each other and everything I had felt. Each event, word and touch merged into a distorted and confusing image.

I had finally been able to trust my past in the hands of someone I knew would never betray me. I had been held, kissed… So much had passed between us, and yet I was suddenly uncertain about how to envision the future.

The goddess had said that Severus had yet to choose his path. I prayed his way would parallel my own, but I had learned too many times that only fools have the luxury of endless wishing.

"I am undecided." I understood his words, but his eyes were focused so completely on me that my breath caught in my throat.

I fought to ask with my mouth what my heart craved. "Will you…?" I took a breath and attempted to quiet the drum in my chest. "Severus, will you travel with me, until your path becomes clear?"

He stood, crossed the sunbeam and knelt before me. I was unsure if he was teasing again or acting in earnest, but as his hands found a resting place on my hips, my uncertainty lost its importance.

"Perhaps," he said. The single word seemed to slide over my skin. "I expect you will need a personal servant wherever you choose to settle?"

His touch filled a void long left neglected, but his playful words troubled me. I reached down, took his hands in mine and lowered myself to my knees. We were of the same height in this position, both kneeling in the dust, hands resting on hips that were not our own and venturing forward into something not yet defined. Something perilous. Something powerful.

"You must know I do not view you as a slave," I whispered. "If it were my choice, men would be judged on their character, the strength of their hearts and on their treatment of strangers, not by their place of birth, the coin in their purses or the marks on their skin."

There was silence again between us. I closed my eyes and reached out with unearthly senses. My skin warmed as his magic interlaced with my own. I opened my eyes at the touch of his fingers on mine. He brought them to his lips.

"If given the choice," Severus began, "I would be honoured to serve a man who upheld such values…" He turned his head and lightly brushed his cheek and lips over my knuckles. "…to the end of my days."

I wanted to reply. I desired for him to know how much his answer and his gestures were reshaping my vision of what the future held, but my words would not travel past the tangle of new emotions. Instead, I bowed my head until my scar rested against his forehead and my lips met our entwined fingers. I kissed his skin and breathed in a new future.

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