Only The Beginning
By
Christine Hall
Title: Only the Beginning
Author: Christina Hall, aka Trillium
Rating: R for violence, sexual situations, and the usual bad attitudes
Special thanks to Kao Vang for editing and many good suggestions
Disclaimer: The Mummy and the characters therein are the property of
Universal Studios.
No infringement intended. I am making no money off of
this.
Chapter 8
For the next several days, Anak-sun-amun was restless. She began
hanging around the throne room more than usual, hoping to catch a glimpse of
Imhotep and somehow tell him of her plan, but he did not come to the palace.
She began to worry. Had she only been a temporary diversion to him, after
all?
When she was not in the throne room, she wandered the halls aimlessly,
lost in thought. She ate little and slept fitfully, tormented by bizarre
dreams that she could never remember when she woke up. And the paint- she
had never worn it for more than a day at a time, and it was torture. Just
having to be constantly careful of it was bad enough, but it's onerous
presence turned the slightest itch into a living hell. Not to mention it
was a constant reminder of Pharaoh's absolute possession of her. And Seti
took care to remind her of that in words whenever he saw her, which was far
too often for Anak-sun-amun's liking.
She was so taken up with these concerns that she hardly gave it a
thought when several members of the royal household fell ill of some kind of
fever. But when Anak-sun-amun woke on the fourth day after she had sent the
letter, she knew something was wrong. Her head ached, her throat felt
tight, and she was alternately burning hot and chilled to the bone. She had
every intention of staying in bed that day, but all too soon Sedet poked her
head around the door and informed her that Pharaoh desired her presence in
the throne room.
Could it be that her letter had been answered? It was even just
possible that her father had come in person. She levered herself out of
bed, the motion intensifying the pounding in her skull and sending the world
into a spin around her. After a moment, though, it righted itself, and she
found she could walk almost normally. She went to the bathing room, where
Sedet applied a spare pattern of stripes to her skin, just a token, really,
for they both knew that she should attend the Pharaoh as soon as possible.
The perfunctory paint job was soon done and they were on their way.
The usual group of courtiers and hangers on were assembled in the
throne room, but one in particular stood out for Anak-sun-amun. Imhotep
stood to one side of the huge room, alert, but uninvolved in any of the
various conversations taking place. She made bold to smile at him slightly,
and he returned it. Suddenly she felt warm again. That smile left her no
doubt that he did care, and she renewed her pledge to herself that she would
be free of the Pharaoh, somehow, and in Imhotep's arms again, no matter what
it took.
She approached the throne and bowed to Seti, feeling apprehensive.
Her quick glance had shown no sign of her father in the room, but that did
not mean anything. Still, she worried, and her head was starting to ache
again.
"I got the most interesting letter this morning," Pharaoh began with
no preamble. Anak-sun-amun listened attentively, but her eyes were
continuously drawn to Imhotep, standing stolidly in his corner, and she had
to drag her attention back where it belonged.
"It's from your father. It appears your mother and sisters miss you
dearly," his voice was sarcastic, mean. "And want you to return home to
them."
Pharaoh rose from his throne and began to pace back and forth.
"What they do not seem to understand is that you are my possession now."
"My lord," Anak-sun-amun spoke up, knowing it was impertinent, but
it was now or never. She had to make her case. "My sisters are very young.
It is understandable that they miss me. Would Your Majesty permit me to
visit them, at least? Only for a short time?"
"No! Lately your attitude displeases me, Anak-sun-amun. I will not
reward you for it by allowing you to leave Thebes."
Suddenly Imhotep, who had been listening unobtrusively to the whole
conversation, stepped forward. "Your Majesty," he began, putting on a great
show of respect. "Perhaps it would be wise to permit a visit. Baron
Nefer-Ka-Re has been a faithful servant to you, and Isis and Osiris have
shown us that family affection..."
"Silence! Spare me your pious protestations, High Priest. I know
you do not believe a word of them yourself."
Imhotep subsided, but under his impassive mask he was thinking
quickly, trying to salvage the situation. He did not know exactly what was
going on here, but he was fairly sure that this letter, coming so soon on
the heels of Pharaoh's return, had been engineered by Anak-sun-amun somehow.
He must back her up in any way he could, but subtly.
Pharaoh was speaking again, but the words made no sense to
Anak-sun-amun. She felt hot, lightheaded, and the objects and people in the
room had taken on an unreal, gray color. Suddenly her legs were totally
unable to support her, and she slipped into peaceful darkness, slumping
against Sedet's shoulder.
The second Imhotep saw her faint, he sprang forward, indiscreet in
his worry for her. Fortunately he was not the only one to react like that,
but he was the only one who had the courage to take Anak-sun-amun's weight
from the sagging servant woman and lay her down on the floor. He put his
hand to her forehead. By Horus! She was burning up with fever.
"The Lady is not well. She must be taken to the Temple physicians,"
he ordered urgently, but the circle of stunned people around them did not
move.
Pharaoh barged through the knot of people, who sluggishly parted for
him. "She must see a physician!" urged Imhotep, speaking to Seti now.
"She's faking," sneered Seti. Imhotep felt his anger boil up almost
uncontrollably. Pharaoh cared nothing for her! To him she was only a
plaything, to be guarded jealously even if it killed her. Whereas to
Imhotep she was life itself, like a drink of cool water in the desert! What
injustice that she should be chained to a man who would never appreciate her
properly, while the one who loved her with all his soul stood by and looked
on. With great difficulty he mastered his emotions and spoke in a normal,
if urgent, tone of voice.
"No one can fake a fever like that. Touch her forehead if you don't
believe me!"
Rather than risk himself by doing so, Pharaoh beckoned a lackey
forward. The man laid his hand against Anak-sun-amun's cheek and nodded,
confirming what Imhotep had said. Seti appeared to waver.
"Only if she is guarded by two Med-jai at all times." He nodded
sharply, as if this was an admirable solution to the problem.
"Your Majesty," began Imhotep sternly, in his best All-Powerful High
Priest voice, standing up to his full height so that he was looking down at
the Pharaoh. "You know as well as I do that armed guards are not permitted
in the infirmaries. Besides upsetting the other patients, it would also
offend the gods, a step which I am sure Your Majesty does not want to take.
I personally guarantee you that she will be well-looked after, and her
virtue uncompromised. But she could be quite seriously ill. I know that
Your Majesty bears her much affection, and if you wish her to recover, you
must be reasonable about this."
The throne room was dead silent. No one present had ever heard
anyone speak like this to the Pharaoh before. Perhaps half of them expected
Seti to call on his Med-jai to execute the High Priest immediately, but he
did not. He and Imhotep stood looking at each other for a long moment, as
though fighting a silent battle of wills. Finally the Pharaoh nodded.
"Very well. My Med-jai will check on her daily, but they will not
stay in the infirmary."
Imhotep assented. This was all the concession he was going to get.
He turned back to Anak-sun-amun's prone form and called to a servant to
bring a litter. As if that was a signal, everyone in the room began
babbling at once. The tension was slowly dissolving, but before Imhotep
could really relax, the Pharaoh grabbed his arm and spoke in a rough
near-whisper.
"I do not know what game you are playing, if any, Imhotep, but I
warn you, I will hold you personally responsible if anything happens to
her."
"Of course, Your Majesty," Imhotep replied, all affability. "I know
how much she means to you." That comment appeared to satisfy the Pharaoh,
and he returned to his throne. A moment later a litter was carried in, but
no one seemed willing to touch Anak-sun-amun. They all hovered just out of
range, looking nervously at Pharaoh, who seemed to be ignoring the whole
situation. Impatient, Imhotep stepped forward and knelt by her side. She
was beginning to stir, but the far-away look in her eyes suggested that she
wasn't truly aware of her surroundings. She did, however, smile faintly
when she saw him bending over her.
"Imhotep," she whispered, gazing at him.
"Shhh, don't talk." he murmured, lifting her in his arms.
Her smile faded, and her expression turned sad. "It didn't work.
It didn't work." She was talking to herself now, unaware of Imhotep, though
he could hear every word. "I fear I shall never be free of the Pharaoh
except in death." Her face screwed up as if in pain, and she lapsed again
into semiconsciousness. Imhotep laid her carefully on the litter, arranging
her arms in what seemed like a comfortable position. Peremptorily he
ordered the four priests who had accompanied him to take her to the temple
and see her settled. As expected, two Med-jai joined them on the Pharaoh's
instructions, but Imhotep spoke quickly to Pepy, telling him to be sure that
the guards did not stay long.
As the group left the palace, carrying the litter, Imhotep looked
down at himself. The sleeves of his robe, his pendant, the symbol of his
office, and the bare skin of his hands, chest, and stomach were all covered
with steaks and smears of gold and black paint, and some of the courtiers
were gawking at him like they had never seen him before. It seemed to him
almost like a mark of shame, though none of the others could possibly know
its true meaning. Affecting disgust at the shiny coating, he approached the
Pharaoh's throne.
"I would wash, Your Majesty. I will return afterwards if you have
more to discuss with me."
"Yes, yes, by all means," agreed Seti, dismissing him. Imhotep
bowed in acknowledgment and left the throne room, ignoring the stares and
whispered comments at his back.
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