Another Pan (43 page)

There is so much that is precious between a king and his kingdom. If a country is deprived of a good and just ruler, if a cursed family is robbed of its one shot at redemption and true greatness, if a rightful monarch is overthrown and replaced by one much less deserving, changing the course of history forever, then a bitterness builds inside many hearts and across many lives
.

So ends the story of one family with a curse on its line, of Elan’s dark legacy, full of the cruelest injustices. The house that cannot die will come to its mortal end. This is the story of the last member of the cursed family — a family whose children no longer walk among the living yet continue to clench life from among the dead. Their stolen lives linger on, still flowing in their bones. Life has been mummified inside them, forming an ever-living bonedust — a new kind of immortality
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Layla and Marcus Praxis left behind a daughter, a girl who was talented as well as beautiful and who lived in the house of the pharaohs. Growing up in splendor, she learned the ways of a noble life, passing on her skills and beauty to her own daughter and to her granddaughter after that. For seven generations, Layla’s female descendants grew more talented, more accomplished, and even more breathtaking. Soon, in the streets of Egypt, the family name began to take on a new meaning. Hurkhan’s tribe of beasts gave way to Layla’s line of beauties, each of whom displayed a grace and charm unmatched in her generation
.

Each of the women thrived in her own unique way, impressing court and country with new talents, and each made a more advantageous marriage than her mother. If one girl married an army general, her daughter would better her by marrying a member of the high council. And so it was until one day, seven generations later, one of Layla and Marcus Praxis’s descendants married a pharaoh
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In the meantime, another branch of the cursed family lingered beneath the surface of public life, unseen, unheard. Brooding. For while Marcus Praxis’s line bore good and beautiful children, Hurkhan’s other descendants were deprived of accomplishments, accolades, and attention — a deficit that, though it cannot create evil, can certainly bring to the surface any evil that is already within
.

In this branch of Hurkhan’s line lived a girl called Neferat
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She was of a middling stature, with forgettable looks and a feeble frame. Her face was too pale. Her hair too dull. And she had a strange defect in her left eye, a pupil broken like old papyrus. The eye was blue like the Nile. Despite this lack of beauty, Neferat was confident, walking proudly as though she had chosen her every flaw. She ignored the cruel rants and petty taunts, the other women who called her a witch and a conjurer
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She did not join in her family’s jealous rants when the pharaoh chose her beautiful cousin as his queen
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Instead, Neferat became a servant in that woman’s household
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This story begins deep in the chambers of the pharaoh’s women, where Neferat went to claim her destiny, and where the seeds of hate sprouted and choked the house of the god-king, changing Egypt’s history forever
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“‘This story begins deep in the chambers of the pharoah’s women,’” Peter recited from memory. After stealing the book, he had spent the night lurking around Marlowe, counting down the hours until the Egyptian sunset, when the gates would be open once again. Now that everyone was tucked away in sixth period, he’d have plenty of time to explore. “Chambers of the women . . .” he said again, a sly grin on his lips. He looked this way and that, made sure no one was following, before slipping into the girls’ bathroom in the main corridor of Marlowe, the
Book of Gates
tucked under his arm.

Neferat proved herself a capable nursemaid for the many children of the pharaoh’s court. She rose in ranks among the servants until she was the chief nurse, the one most trusted by the pharaoh. She watched the children closely, taking note of their flaws and talents. Soon, she chose a favorite, the young daughter of a minor noble and his foreign wife, a girl who had lived in the palace since birth. The girl wasn’t beautiful or charming, but she was clever, and even at the girl’s young age, Neferat could see her ambition and cunning
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Within a few years, the pharaoh’s wife became pregnant. She gave birth to a long-awaited son and heir, the one who would become pharaoh and ruler to all his brethren. The older children of the court burned with jealousy
.

Neferat looked at the boy, now one of her own charges, and saw at once his enduring goodness and potential. She had heard the stories about her cursed family. She knew that a great pharaoh from Elan’s line could redeem them all, wash away all the injustice and allow her ancestors to rest in peace. She realized that she did not wish for redemption to come through him, if at all
. He won’t be clever enough to rule,
she thought
. Goodness isn’t enough to merit the throne of Egypt.
Then she thought of the so-called curse on her four ancestors and thought,
How dare anyone say that we need redemption.
These thoughts ran through Neferat’s wicked mind when the pharaoh’s son was brought to her, the most skilled of the nursemaids, to raise and nurture
.

“Ex-CUSE me? But this is the girls’ room?” said a squeaky-voiced girl with big eyes and a blond bob. She was only applying lipstick, but apparently this was a sacred ritual.

“Relax,” said Peter. “I won’t tell anyone your lips aren’t naturally fire-engine red.”

“Get out!” the girl shouted, hands on hips, right above her low-riding uniform skirt.

Peter laughed to himself, then pushed open one of the stalls and said, “No, but really, you should leave. This could get messy.”

It was during this time in her life that Neferat’s ill will and ruthless intentions filled up her body and spilled out into the world. As the pharaoh’s son, Seti, grew older, his nursemaid writhed with fury over the splendor bestowed upon him — and the growing innocence and sweetness with which the boy responded. She watched the nobles of the land shower him with gifts and praise. She observed as fortune-tellers and soothsayers predicted that he would bring great prosperity to their land — and warned that a great shadow hung over his head. All the while, she groomed her own favorite, whispering ideas in her ear, planting thoughts of treachery in her mind, raising her to believe that she, an ambitious commoner, could be a god-queen, ruling over all of Egypt
.

She built into the girl’s heart a sense of entitlement and greed. Those who knew her said that Neferat was evil, bewitched by bad spirits, greedy and malicious — that she was possessed by a spirit much older than her body, coming after the cursed family once more. They said that she taught the girl her wicked ways and that she used her devil eye to bore deep into her soul and corrupt her to the core
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This is the story of Seti, the true pharaoh, who might have brought the cursed family such greatness that its effect would have been felt across even the previous generations. It would be triumph and justice enough to redeem all their bitterness — a reawakening of crushed souls. What would have come of having a great and benevolent pharaoh rise up from the cursed family? Would Elan the builder have let his bitterness go if he had fathered a line of kings? Would Garosh the monster have forgotten his lost love? Would Harere have stopped mourning? Would Praxis’s soul have moved on? Perhaps . . . but none of them ever had a chance, for Seti, the hope of all Egypt, was cut down and replaced by a most powerful queen
.

Peter stood outside two palaces at the very center of the labyrinth. He chose the smaller of the two: the one belonging to the wife of the pharaoh and her children.
A person who’d had his kingdom stolen away wouldn’t belong in the big one,
he thought.
He’d belong in the home of his childhood . . . the women’s chambers, where the story begins
.

Later in Seti’s life, when his father, the pharaoh, died and he took the throne, the people remembered the prophecies and expected great things. But Seti, acting as a playboy king, unconcerned with anything beyond his own amusement, disappointed them all. He was not wise enough or cunning enough to stand up to his advisers. He was distracted, not as clever as a god-king should be. Besides all that, he rarely said more than a few words. He spent his days in amusement, forgetting his position and responsibilities. He was weak and malleable, and soon he became nothing more than a vessel for his advisers
.