In the aftermath of nine devastating plagues that ravaged ancient Egypt, a high priestess desperately seeks to prevent the impending tenth plague. Still, her efforts fail, leaving her at the mercy of an enraged pharaoh. Meanwhile, the pharaoh's son...
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The high priestess stood a good head over most present in Pharaoh Ramesses' throne room. Wrapped around her slender figure was a close-fitting white sheath dress with delicate gold trimmings lining its edge. Deep brown eyes gleamed with confidence as they took in her surroundings, and as she moved, it appeared as though her hidden feet glided over the polished marble floor. In her right palm was a canopic jar holding burning coals, and with her left hand she gripped a thin gold-overlaid staff.
Many looked upon her as the oracle through which the gods communicated with mortals. But an obstinate few swore she was a glorified whore of Apophis—a woman completely eaten by evil.
Her name was Rai and the people's opinion, negative or positive, only served as feathers to her wings. As she walked on, she basked in the look of awe, admiration and disdain on their faces—well, all except the Pharaoh. He was seated on his throne, posture rigid and lines of impatience marring his brow. She could guess why he appeared so upset. Moses must have threatened again.
Rai had received news of the plagues upon her return from her year-long meditative retreat at the sacred caves of Ma'at, South of the Egyptian borders. When she journeyed through the once vibrant streets of Memphis in her canopied litter, the level of destruction and decay that marred the land shocked her to silence.
The air was thick with the smothering stench of rotting flesh. The farmlands were a spread of ruined crops save for a few healthy sprouts, not a single cow dotted the grazing fields and the Nile reeked of the dead. She also noticed nearly everyone she had encountered had unsightly scabs on the exposed parts of their bodies, including the Pharaoh. She was thankful the flesh-eating plague had not occurred when she was around; she could not stomach the thought of her flawless face getting scarred in any way.
When Rai finally stopped before the Pharaoh and his officials, she muttered a prayer to Ra, imploring the chief god of Egypt to bless her with a solution, because if he did not...
It took little to envision her dismembered body discarded upon heaps of decomposing corpses. Yes, the Pharaoh had heaps of those in the outskirts of Tanis where vultures abound and the earth was dead. Rai shrunk from the troubling thought and focused on the task at hand.
There was a light murmur about the throne room as she placed the burning jar on the floor, her hand returning unhurt. She mumbled thanks to Ra then straightened.
"You summoned me, o great Pharaoh." Rai offered a graceful bow.
Pharaoh Ramesses II signalled for all present to vacate except his son and two scribes. Ah, he was furious. The way he rigidly sat upon his throne, and those small kohl-lined eyes bloodshot and twitching.
"Forty-two," Pharaoh Ramesses spat as he gripped the armrest of his throne with a bejewelled hand.
Rai was careful to maintain a blank expression. "Forty-two what, o wise Pharaoh?"
