Shards of Ankh

Chapter Thirty-Seven

When Gyasi entered the private meeting chamber of Ankh, he paused, looking rather unsure of himself. Thea didn't fail to notice as his eyes (now rimmed with beautiful, shimmering teal eyeshadow) fell on her before shifting back to his nephew.

"Please," Ankh said, more of a command than anything as he gestures to an empty chair.

Gyasi hesitated a moment longer before he entered. In a jerking fashion, as though he were not sure of himself, Gyasi bowed with his fist to his shoulder. He then sat down rigidly.

"I owe you an apology," Ankh said, his own gaze sliding off to the side.

Gyasi couldn't hide his shock. "You do?"

Ankh looked back. "I acted--rashly. When my mother first died."

The briefest look of smugness took over Gyasi's features, but he quickly contained it. "Oh?"

"Uncle," Ankh said plainly, "I know you loved my mother. I know you wanted to marry her. But I also know you as my uncle. You are a reasonable man. You have never done anything to show you would have it in you to murder someone in a fit of jealousy."

Gyasi sighed, briefly looking relieved. "Ankh--if anything else, I wouldn't dare risk tarnishing sah."

Thea knew immediately what he meant. Ancient Egyptians took their afterlives very seriously. Their concept of the soul varied vastly from most other religions throughout history. They believed different parts comprised a person's spirit--the physical body (khet), the spiritual body (sah), ren, the name/identity, the personality (known as ba), the double (ka), ib (the heart), shut (the shadow), and the sekhem, or form. All of these comprised made akh, the intellect, and the form of all these parts comprised as a whole spirit.

It was believed that when a person died, they were judged by forty-two divine judges. If you're soul was heavy and tarnished, you would be denied entry into the afterlife. Worse, if the proper rituals, ceremonies, and preservation rituals for the physical body were not met, you would never attain sah. Often this would result in something akin to a poltergeist, an avenging spirit left to roam the world, filling those who were once loved one's with nightmares and bad luck. If your soul outright failed the weighing of the ib ceremony (in which the god Anubis put your heart on a scale and weighed it against a feather), your soul was immediately thrown to Ammit, the Devourer of Souls, to be eaten. Even though the latter carried the promise of torture and denial of rebirth in the afterlife, most considered it worse to be brought back as a shamed, lost spirit, forced to live in the world instead of the afterlife. Permanent death at the hands of Ammit outweighed the misery of missing the afterlife.

"I know," Ankh replied shamefully. "Especially given your devotion to Osiris. I am so, so sorry. May I have your forgiveness? Please?"

Gyasi got to his feet and outspread his arms. Ankh rose and, looking tearful, rushed over to embrace his uncle. When that was done, they both sat back down.

"Now," Ankh said seriously, stippling his hands. "Onto business."

Gyasi inclined his head. "But of course."

"Before I bring in Lapis," the Pharaoh said, "I wanted to ask you something privately."

Gyasi rose an eyebrow and looked at Thea. He then looked squarely at Ankh. "You wish to discuss something privately, away from Lapis, but in front of this one?"

"I want to gage your reaction," Ankh said truthfully with a shrug.

A pause, and then, "Go on."

"Do you know where Chisisi went after I became Pharaoh?"