Getting Started

[King Monkey]

Getting into the palace was the easy part. Sethotep would never have been able to walk in through any of the normal entrances. A single normal sized man would be stopped and turned away, if not taken into custody immediately. 99 six inch tall men, on the other hand, had an almost unlimited number of entrances with which to get into the walls of the palace. All Sethotep had to do was watch the rats. There weren't any human habitations in the world that rats hadn't found a way into. Even Iah Nebi's home had rats, though foolish or suicidal ones.

Thinking of his host reminded him of what the hard part had been. Waiting for the young man to slip and tell him where and when Neferteri would be sparsely guarded had been torture. It had taken an excruciating amount of time for Iah to casually mention such a situation. He felt too much affection for the boy to think him foolish for finally doing so. Naive and overly trusting were more forgiving, an probably more honest descriptions.

Now, his selves collected, converging on a single spot and uniting, slowly building him up from a single six inch figure to a full sized man. One of the tiny men was carrying a dagger, though it looked like one of the crude, two handed swords that the norsemen sometimes carried in his tiny hands. Others carried lengths of leather cord and as he grew and coalesced, Sethotep wrapped these cords around the metal hilt of the dagger. It was sized for one of him to wield and only the leather wrappings made the grip large enough for him to use it effectively at full (or almost full size.)

In the end, almost a dozen of his selves remained separate, forming a smaller version of him. Only two foot tall, it was still large enough to be noticed and quite a curious specimen. No words had to pass between the two of them, and the smaller of the Sethoteps ran around a corner. It took only seconds for him to spot a guard and another second for the guard to spot him.

The tiny man was such an unusual sight that the guard did not cry out and raise the alarm, but rather gave chase as Sethotep bolted. He certainly wasn't afraid of the tiny thing and was quite curious about it. He'd never seen the like.

The larger Sethotep did not have to hear the footsteps approaching him. He saw the out of the way corner he was hiding behind from another set of eyes and knew how close the guard was. At the right moment, he thrust the dagger out and up.

There was a surprised, confused look on the guard's face as the blade slipped under his chin, sliding up through his mouth and piercing his brain. Sehotep did not have the mass to stop the man's charge and he fell under his lifeless body. Trapped there, he had to wait until the other him came and merged and they gained the mass and strength to roll the body off of him.

Fortunately, there was little blood and none of it stained the man's uniform. It only moments for Sethotep to don the uniform. Soon, he was on his way, taking up the guard's patrol, though changing it a bit. Any time he passed someone else from the palace, he met their gaze, nodding as though he knew them. Those he passed were left with a strange feeling that he was out of place, but uncertain. After all, there were often new faces in the palace. A new guard could be hired at anytime and not everyone would be informed.

Besides, only minutes passed between the time he killed the guard and when he found her. There, only a few feet away was the slut who'd seduced his cousin, murdered him and banished his entire family simply for the joy of her power. It took all of his power not to scream his rage at her. He almost suspected that his Dark God would give that sound the power to strike down all in the room, such was his hatred.

But, he could not go on suspicions. He would never get a better chance and he longed to feel her blood bathing her hands. He wouldn't waste this opportunity on superstition.

Ducking his head now, for surely those guarding her most closely would know who else was assigned, he moved quickly towards the pharaoh. Even when one of the guards called out to him, he continued to approach, not rushing, but in a determined manner. Only when one of the guards moved to stop him did he break into a sprint.

Now an inarticulate shout of hatred erupted from him. Froth flew from his lips as he leapt at the Pharaoh, his dagger swinging in a flashing arc aimed straight for her lovely breast and the heart that beat under it.

[Striker]

It had been an unusually long morning for Egyptia's ruler; Nepherteri had risen early that day to see to the business of hearing the complaints, well wishes, and pleadings from those who needed something from her for whatever reason. It was generally long winded and boring, which was why she liked to get it done early before the worst of the heat set in on the day.

She was currently between appointments taking a small break while the next noble, who was late, decided to show up and she was taking full advantage of being able to walk around without anyone yapping at her heels for this and that. There were only a few more meetings to go anyway and then she could relax until she was needed later on.

Her mind had drifted off to further reaches, as there was nothing to trouble her right now though she looked up from the small pool she had been looking at when the call of the normally mute guards broke the quiet of the place. Perhaps she sensed that something was wrong, perhaps not, but she'd half turned and unwittingly put herself directly in the path of fate and the charging man who now took up her vision.

There was only time for a momentary look of question to pass over her face, not even a chance for fear or anger to take up their place on those fine features when the glint of metal swung past the bejeweled arms she'd just started to raise instinctively. The first thing the dagger encountered was not flesh, a cracking sound as the the weapon broke stone as it glanced across the large blue and gold jewelry the woman wore. Though it protected her from a direct attack the swing had such force behind it that it continued on and the blade found the flesh it was so seeking.

The wound ran a downwards diagonal across the Pharaoh's chest, deeply even though it failed to pierce, an arc of crimson following the daggers exact path not a second after. The woman's mouth opened in a soundless scream and she was still one of those forever moments before she staggered and fell backwards, offering up an open target if he could beat the guards who were now closing in.

The guards had been slower to react than they normally would have, largely out of shock. No one who wasn't supposed to be here should have been able to get in. It had taken several mind numbing seconds to realize that their ruler was in danger, and those precious seconds had been just enough to allow the attack to be successful. The room erupted in shouts even as the dagger pierced the stone of the Pharaoh's fine jewelry. Two of the guards were dispensed to bring reinforcements while most of the others leapt at their ruler's attacker, clearly meaning to subdue him and pull him away from their Queen by any means necessary.

[King Monkey]

Sethotep was drawing the dagger back for another stab. He had no idea if the first had struck home or not. He saw blood, but it wasn't enough. It could never be enough. Even if the first blow was fatal he would have stabbed again and again and again.

Fortunately, Nepherteri's guards are too fast. The two closest grab him, pulling him away from her. Unfortunately, they are not expecting someone with his abilities. He literally falls apart in their hands, dozens of tiny Sethoteps tumbling out of their grips and falling to the ground. Only one of his tiny bodies is caught by one of the guards and it wiggles and squirms in his grip, clawing and biting at his hand.

One of the other guards is more prepared. He skewers another of the tiny assassins with his spear, bringing out a fierce cry of agony that trails off into nothingness. Sethotep ignores the losses. He swarms forward, reforming a larger version of himself with the dagger still in his hand. The assassin manages one more slash at the Pharaoh before the guards manage to regroup.

One of them makes a stab at him that he narrowly avoids before he gives a cry of impotent rage and falls apart once more. They scatter, bolting out of the chamber as quickly as possible, leaving the would be murder weapon behind.

The guards have recovered enough that they stab and stomp many more of the miniature Sethoteps. The remaining disappear into the shadows scattering back into their warrens in the palace.

[Wufti]

The fine, warm air of the early morning was pleasant, and Asha breathed of it deeply as she wandered in between the stalls of Thekmara's open market, already packed by crowds of eager shoppers. It was rare when she had occasion to escape the palace in this manner. Most often the lesser servants fetched the supplies for the Palace, but every now and then the Pharaoh wanted something so specific that she would not trust the task to any but her most trusted Handmaidens. Asha had always been at the center of their group. She knew best what pleased the Pharaoh. While some few of the Queen's Handmaidens regarded her with deep jealousy at the favour she held from their queen, most of them looked to her for advice at how they could best please their mistress.

It was with some reluctance that Asha chose the last of the items from the Pharaoh's list and carefully added it to the basket carried by one of her fellows while a third paid the merchant. She was in no hurry to return to the palace. She did not envy the Pharoah's position this morning. Hearing the complaints and petitions was never exciting, hardly even interesting, and always served to cause tension to their Lady. She far prefered the open air of the market, the sights, sounds and smells of the market stalls, the merchants and their goods and the crowd of shoppers pressing around the best stalls trying to get the best deals. And if she dallied slightly longer than she needed to as they made their way back to the palace, no one was going to complain, not even the Pharaoh, save perhaps for the two guards who had been sent to keep watch over the Handmaidens while they were away.

Finally she felt as though she had been too long away from the side of her Queen. By now the Pharaoh must be bored, annoyed, and ready for the relaxation that was due her. When the Palace finally came into view, Asha hurried her pace. Leaving the other handmaidens to take care of their purchases, she hurried to the room where she knew the Pharaoh was meeting with nobles on this particular morning. No one would bar her entry. Asha was always permitted to come and go to her Lady's side whenever herself or the Pharaoh deemed it. But as she approached the proper hallway an icy chill gripped her chest. Something was wrong. The first hallways she had crossed in the Palace had been dead silent. A bad sign... an unusual sign. Now as she grew closer to the Pharoah there were sounds of shouting, of chaos, and it grew louder the closer she drew to the proper room. Then she saw the guards rushing down the hallways, shouting to each other to hurry and her heart skipped a beat.

Oh no... what has happened? Hardly noticed by any of the guards rushing to the scene of whatever disaster had befallen, Asha wove in between the larger guardsmen, rushing to her Lady's side as fast as her legs could carry her.

[Striker]

The Pharoah finished her fall as the guards set upon her attacker the first time, hitting the ground with a dull thud, the fiery pain that now bloomed across her chest taking up her mind. She was so in shock that she hardly even registered the second slash, a wound appearing at her right side, far shallower in the mans haste to get away; still, it would not help things much.

The sight Asha would be met with was a grim one indeed. The queen had just managed to avoid hitting the reflecting pool and was laying on the ground, the jewlery and adornments she always wore in public completely askew from the landing. But the worst of it was the most noticeable, the great crimson line that stained the torn fabric of the woman's clothing across her chest.

She was alive, her labored breathing a testament to that, but she didn't seem to see anything right away, or at least until her handmaiden came into her view and her eyes half focused on her. For just a moment the prone woman looked almost terrified, though it was impossible to tell if it was her own condition or something else that brought out such a look. Whatever it had been a moment later her head fell back and a pained cry issued forth from her throat.


Their momentary surprise over the fact that the assassin had somehow... disassembled himself in order to escape, the Pharaoh's guards went to work right away, making short work of any of the straggling miniature assassins. One of them had the good sense to scoop up the weapon which had been used to score their Pharaoh and store it away for later inspection. As soon as there were no more miniatures to be found in the room, the guardsmen poured out into the hallways, scattering in all directions, seeking out any hiding place or escape route that the tiny assassins may have taken and slaying as many more of them as they could find. There was a great deal of shouting moving steadily away from the room as the guards coordinated their efforts.

But not all of the guards left the room. They were not so foolish that they had forgotten their leader. Several guards took up posts just outside the doors while others ran to the Palace gates to close off the palace to any further traffic for the day. Yet others knelt at their lady's side. One of them laid aside his spear and gently lifted the Pharaoh's head into his lap. "Please hold on, my Queen." The guard said, a small bit of desperation seeping into his voice. Nepherteri was beloved to many of her people. She may have been aloof - as aloof as any Goddess confined to a mortal's body might be - but she had never been cruel and her people thrived under her rule. Not only did he desperately want his Queen to survive, but he knew there would be hells to pay for all the guards on duty at the time if their Pharaoh had been slain under what was supposed to be their careful watch. "The Healers have already been summoned."

[Wufti]

The moment Asha passed into the room she was stunned by the sight that met her eyes. She hesitated a moment just in side the doorway, a small gasp escaping her throat. Someone had attacked the queen. Not only had they made an attempt against her, but they had wounded her somehow. Even from the other side of the room, Asha could see the bright streak of red that flowed across the Queen's skin and fine clothing.

Then the moment was gone, passing quickly, and Asha's legs were unfrozen. She dashed across the room and knelt at the side of the fallen Queen at the same moment that her eyes lifted to see her handmaiden. In that moment, the Queen would find her look of horror mirrored on her handmaiden's face. Shaking hands reached out as the Queen's head slid back into the guard's lap and strong fingers closed around the Queen's shoulders, gently squeezing them, though there was little assurance that Asha could offer her at that moment.

"Oh my darling..." her voice stopped short before she could reach the woman's formal title, choaked by an unfamiliar and very large lump in her throat. She gritted her teeth as she felt an even more unfamaliar sensation of tears stinging her eyes, threatening to dampen her cheeks. She clamped down hard on her emotions, not daring to let them show through for longer than a moment or two. She leaned across the Queen's prone form, not paying any attention to the fact that the queen's blood now stained her fine clothing as well. She leaned so close that she pressed her forehead against the Queen's, as if she could somehow join with her in that moment and heal the wounds which had been caused to her.

"Promise me you will not die." She murmured softly, so softly that it would not reach past the prone Queen's ears, not even to the guard that hovered just above her. "For you know, my beloved companion, I cannot long survive without you."

[King Monkey]

Sethotep did not suffer a single desperate, frantic escape, but dozens. He did not die a single, painful time, but dozens. Every tiny version of him was him, as full of his consciousness and mind as was his normal, full sized form. Every panting step, every scurry through darkness, every violent stab and forceful stomp was felt by him. He died scores of times that day in pain and fear, the lights that made up his existence snuffed one by one.

Even once he was outside the palace and away from those zealously hateful guards, he was not safe. Several more of his selves were squished under the careless, trampling heels of the people walking the streets or were crushed under the wheels of carts. He went largely unnoticed amongst the crowds and that was a danger in itself. One of his forms was scooped up by a fascinated child and would suffer the torment that only a child can give to a toy before managing to escape. Another suffered a shameful death at the claws of a hunting house cat, toyed with for an hour before finally being slain.

Woefully few of him escaped to scatter throughout the city. And all of them felt the same bitterness in their tiny hearts. The Pharaoh was wounded but not dead! For years he'd dreamed of watching the light go out of her eyes. He'd dreamed of literally bathing in the blood of the woman who'd stolen everything from him and his family. Now, he could only hope that he'd wounded her enough and that she would die.

If that happened, if he'd ended her life, he could be happy. He would come forward to claim his place as pharaoh and when he became a god made flesh all the losses he'd taken to his body would no longer matter. He would be whole.

But, in a dozen dark holes and dank nooks, he had to wait and hope and pray to his dark god that he'd done enough. For now, he could do no more.

[Striker]

Then the handmaiden straightened and lifted herself up from the fallen form of her queen. All at once her demeanor changed. There was no longer any sign of fear or sorrow in her eyes. They had grown hard as crystals and nearly seemed to spark with anger... with power. Where a moment before she had been humble, the servant of her Queen, now she seemed a queen herself. Her presence filled the room and drew the eyes even of those who had not been looking in their direction moments before.

“Guard,” she commanded, her voice hard and clear, a tone that could not be denied. “Look upon my face and know me.”

The guard stared at this young woman, this handmaiden suddenly drunken with the power of a queen. His lips had begun to form into a mocking sneer when he looked at her, and saw the face, not of a handmaiden, but of his queen. The sneer disappeared from his lips and he stared now with fear and with awe. He looked back down at the form in his lap and saw the face of his queen a second time, and yet somehow knew that the wounded queen in his lap was the deception, while the woman that now stood before him was his Pharaoh. “M...my Queen!” he stammered. “How can-”

“That is not of your concern, nor is it for you to question.” Nepherteri declared. She turned and beheld the few guards who remained in the room. “What you see here is not to go beyond the doorway of this room. You are all sworn to silence by pain of death for treason if you whisper a word of this to another living soul. I am your true Queen, behold,” and she swept her hand downward at the woman laying wounded on the floor, “my handmaiden Asha, my double, my twin, when necessity demands it.”

My heart, her thoughts continued silently, though she dared not let the emotions show. It was not proper, the feelings that Nepherteri had for her handmaiden. Asha was more than a servant to her, more than a faithful companion. Asha was... My sister. My soul.

There was a slight pause as Nepherteri once more reigned in her emotions, but it would go largely unnoticed by the guards who needed the time to take in what she was saying. Their Queen was not, in fact, in danger of dying. But that was not going to get them off easily. “Outside of this room, the world will know that an attack was made on my life. No one is to know that it was not I who was injured.

“But she will not die.” This was a command, as if she could command the guards to save her life that very moment. “Go into the city and bring to me a healer who can mend this wound, I care not who they are so long as they are successful. There will be great reward for the one who saves her life. And if she dies...” There was a terrible foreboding in her voice that warned the guards in the room of what just might happen if they let the Pharaoh's double die.

They scurried to obey her will, all of them, even the one holding Asha's head in his lap. Nepherteri took instead his place – it was the proper way for them to be found by those outside anyway. Gently she stroked her handmaiden's hair as all but two of the guards rushed from the room to do as she had bid them.

[Striker]

The High Priestess of Isis was not at the temple when the guards arrived, already out of breath. Two of them paused at the entrance to the vast temple of Isis, staring at the young priestess who had been sent to bring them this ill news for about three seconds before their shoulders slumped and they went back to panting for breath. This did not bode well for any of them. The High Priestess of Isis was the most skilled healer in the city. With her magic, she could have healed the Pharaoh's beloved handmaiden in a matter of mere minutes. Without some form of magical power, a healer would have to spend hours trying to mend the wound, and the woman would spend days in agony trying to recover before they could be certain she had lived.

No. They needed to find a healer capable of magically mending the wound. If they could not do that, they could not ensure the Pharaoh's command would be properly fulfilled, and each and every one of them were likely to loose their heads, or worse. It was never a good idea to risk the anger of a living Goddess.

"If your Mistress returns," One of the guards panted, trying to keep the edge of desperation out of his voice and infuse it instead with a sense of urgent command, "tell her that she must report to the palace at once, for the Pharaoh demands her presence."

"She will hear your words." The priestess replied and bowed obediently before turning and disappearing back into the gilded halls of the temple.

The royal guards paused long enough to cast each other forlorn looks and then they were off and running at full speed again. It didn't take long for them to disappear into the city crowds. If they could not find a healer with the proper magic in the temples near the palace, they would have to search for one among the common temples. There were rumors, after all, of a very powerful healer who lurked in the temple district of the city. Had they been more knowledgeable about the high priests of other temples they may have made their way to the temple of Bast to fetch Iah Nebi, but they were sadly ignorant of his abilities. In their desperation they grasped upon the first lead that came to mind, and prayed fervently that it would bear fruit.

Already the city had come alive with whispered rumors that something terrible had happened at the palace. Some of the rumors were wild - that some foreign dignitary had been murdered, that the Pharaoh had become so displeased that she had ordered someone's head taken right there in the throne room by her palace guards. Others were closer to the mark - that there had been an attack, and that perhaps the Pharaoh had been the target. In a place like Thekmara, certain secrets could not be kept for very long. The palace guards, however, only had time to be glad that none of the whispers came close to the real truth - that it was the Pharoah's handmaiden, and not the Pharaoh herself who had been injured in the attack.

The rest of their concentration was firmly kept upon their mission. They must find a healer who would be able to save the Pharaoh's handmaiden. It became the silent mantra that carried them on even after their legs and lungs had begun to burn. They did not find a single moment of relief until they had all but collapsed at the stairs of the temple and heard the blessed words "Yes, the great healer is here. And yes, she can accompany you to the palace."

* * * * *

When the guardsmen returned to the palace, leg muscles protesting and lungs just barely recovered from their hurried sprint, it was a strange creature which accompanied them. Her head and chest were those of a human, but all resemblance to humanity ended there. The rest of her body was that of a cat, the pads of her paws making barely a sound as she trotted in the wake of the palace guards, her claws making a soft clicking sound against the hard marble floors. Her tail trailed out behind her, softly swaying to the rhythm of her walking. Her skin was as golden tinged as any Egyptians, but her fur was golder still, almost a burnt copper colour and dotted by spots which were black as midnight. From her back sprouted a pair of black and white feathered wings which had been folded carefully so as to keep out of her way and so that they would not knock over those trying to walk in her vicinity. The hair atop her head was as black as her spots and had been gathered atop her head in a curious pattern, though some was left free enough to brush against her shoulders.

All who saw her could readily identify her. For the Sphinx had long inhabited the deserts of Egyptia. Despite the fact that it was easy to tell exactly what kind of creature the woman was, that did not stop a wide swath of gawkers from taking up residence in her path. So rarely were Sphinx seen inside the city, so rarely did they allow themselves to be seen by such large crowds of people, that she was a rare and puzzling sight to say the least. While there were several Sphinx who served the Pharaoh, they were rarely seen outside the palace, and thus very rarely seen by anyone who was not a noble. To see a Sphinx so brazenly strolling through the crowded city streets had caused a stir almost greater than the rumors that something had occurred at the palace.

It appeared that the creature had not forgotten herself in all the hubbub, however, and the moment she was through the door to the room where the Pharaoh waited with her injured handmaiden, she bowed so low that her chin nearly touched the ground. "Your Majesty," she spoke in an oddly accented voice. "I come to serve in any way that I can."

While they had waited for the return of the healer, other guards had brought a soft bed of cushions and linens for the injured handmaiden and had gently lifted her onto them so that she might rest more comfortably. Others had fetched more appropriate attire for their queen and discretely delivered it into her hands, then carefully turned their backs while she donned it. Nepherteri had taken up a position beside Asha's injured form on another small pile of cushions which had been brought for her. Her eyes lifted the moment the sphinx came into the room and it was obvious that she was measuring the creature with her eyes, trying to determine if she was up to the task which had been set to her.

"Who is this that you bring me?" the Queen demanded.

It was the sphinx who answered her. "My name, oh holy one, is Zaval’Kalar." The name rolled smoothly from her lips, but it would be quite hard for anyone else in the room, even the Pharaoh, to repeat the name correctly without a few tries. "But you can call me any name which pleases you. Kalar, if you like. I am a healer in a temple in your city, and a skilled one, let me assure you. I was told you have need of my services and I offer them freely and willingly."

The Queen gazed at the Sphinx for several long moments as if she could somehow see into the creatures soul if only she looked long enough. There were certainly those who believed such a thing to be within her power, but that was not what she was trying to do. In truth she was silently cursing, wondering where Rtastha had gotten off to. It was she whom the Pharaoh had expected to see when the guards returned. But if this creature was truly capable of saving her beloved Asha, then she would not turn her away.

"Sphinx," the Pharaoh said finally, motioning for the woman to come closer, "I know much of your kind, for there are many who serve me here. You will be richly rewarded if you can successfully complete the task which I will set you. You see here my handmaiden. Her name is Asha, and she has been struck by the blade of an assassin meant for me. I fear her injuries are grave, but if you can save her life you will be blessed by all that I can give you - and my blessings are many." She did not say what would happen if the sphinx should fail. There was no need. Everyone in the room knew that.

But Zaval’Kalar did not seem the least bit worried by the unspoken threat in the air. She simply bowed to show she understood then carefully padded across the room until her furry form hovered over the injured handmaiden. Her face leaned close and she was silent for several moments then she lifted herself again and sat, her tail curled around her legs, her front paws set determinedly before her. "I believe these injuries to be most grave, but well within my skill to heal. We should waste no time, however, for the sooner we begin, the more assured Asha's life shall be."

Now the sphinx leaned gently over the handmaiden and murmured, "Are you ready, child? You must brace yourself. For the first few moments it will be painful, but after, I promise, you will feel only warmth."

[King Monkey]

In a dozen or more dark, hidden places, Sethotep exulted. The rumors that spread out from the palace were conflicted and broken, just as all rumors were. For one who knew the facts, however, or at least the starting facts, it was easy to piece together what was happening. He listened in to what was said in the streets and shops from dark corners and under cabinets and counters.

The only disturbing thing was that he'd yet to hear of the pharaoh's actual death. It had been more than enough time for her to perish. A niggling doubt formed in the back of his head. Perhaps the wound had not been as dire as he thought.

His only comfort came in the thought that perhaps she was simply taking longer to die than he expected. The idea that she was writhing in agony and fighting for life even now thrilled him and he chose to believe that rather than the possibility that he hadn't harmed her as much as he thought.

Of course, news of the Sphinx spread through the city almost as fast as the original rumors and his heart plummeted. He didn't know what a Sphinx might be able to do for the Pharaoh, but he didn't like the possibility that she could do anything.

Slowly, carefully, he began reforming. One tiny figure would scurry out of hiding and meet up with another and sometimes a third would be able to join them. It was a slow process as he'd lost so many that he didn't want to lose any more, but ever so slowly, all that remained of Sethotep began to gather in one dark, secluded alley.

[Wufti]

The revealed Asha lay still on the floor, unable to even so much as lift her hand when her mistress revealed herself. There was so much pain and there had been such a terror in her when the Pharaoh had shown up, fear not for herself but that the assassin was still around and their queen would be a target. So much anger had come at her during the attack, like a wave and it was the absence of that source that mostly allowed her to let go.

The womans voice so close to her ear cut through the pain, focusing her even when her mind did not want to. Her eyes turned upwards as her head was placed in the womans lap, silently promising to fight as best she could. She had fulfilled her duty and would have not complained of a death that protected her queen but this new order burned brightly in front of her eyes and she followed.

By the time the healer had been called and the sphinx arrived at the palace the handmaidens breathing was shallow and pained, her face ashen and her eyes unfocused; she was trying so hard to hang on but if made to wait much longer it would be to late.

There was no fear in her of the sphinx, there was little feeling at all by this point but she managed to focus on the face above her and whispering a yes so soft that only the healer would be able to catch it at all. She was as ready as she would ever be.

[Striker]

The sphinx apparently had no trouble picking up on the handmaiden's whisper, quiet though it was. She did, however, hesitate one moment more, long enough to glance up at the Pharaoh one last time. Zaval’Kalar was under no illusions as to who was in charge here. She may have been the healer, and it may have seemed that she had control of the situation, but she would not dare make a move without the Pharoah's approval first.

The Queen regarded the sphinx for one brief moment more, but when the High Priestess of Isis did not appear through the door way, she gave up any hope for another solution to the situation. She would simply have to trust the sphinx. Asha could not afford to wait any longer. The Queen simply nodded her ascent.

The sphinx bowed her head one last time and gently laid her paw against the handmaiden's wounded flesh. Her claws were quite firmly retracted so that they would not cause any more harm, though her fur may have tickled the young woman's bare skin where it brushed it. Her paw was warm, and the fleshy pads that pressed against her skin felt surprisingly like human contact. The initial contact was bound to cause a surge of pain, since she had touched the wound directly, but almost the moment the sphinx's paw had settled against her wounded flesh, Asha would cease to feel pain. There was warmth, as the sphinx had promised, and a blessed sense of numbness.

Zaval’Kalar allowed her magic to begin flowing the moment her paw had settled over the wound, but for the moment she did little more than numb the pain. Already she had begun to wrap her magic around the wound, but before she could begin to mend it, there was one last thing she needed to do. "Your Majesty," she said respectfully, though her eyes never left Asha's wound. "When I have finished mending your handmaiden's wound, you will find that it has fully left her, but has not disappeared. Instead, it will wound my flesh as deeply as it wounds her's now. This is the nature of my healing power. I can mend the wound in my own flesh, but it will require me to descend into a deep trance. I will be completely vulnerable during this time. If I fail and displease you, I hope that you will punish me as you see fit; I will have no way of resisting you. But should I please you, I ask only that you protect me during the period of my healing trance."

But this time she didn't wait for the Pharaoh's answer. She had little right to ask anything further of the Queen, most especially if she could not manage to be successful. Right now, all of her focus was going in to saving the handmaiden's life. Not only because her own life now depended on it, but because she genuinely did not wish to see the young woman die. She closed her eyes and allowed her magic to flow. From the center of the silver headdress she wore, a sapphire gem began to glow softly, casting it's light on the wounded handmaiden's prone form.

It would be hard for the Pharaoh and her breathless guards to see what was happening. The sphinx's paw covered the wound and all they could see was the bright red streak that still flowed across the woman's body. But beneath the sphinx's paw, the wound had begun to mend itself. Deep beneath the skin, the wounded fibers of Asha's body began to wind themselves back together as if they had never been pierced at all. Blood ceased to flow from the wound, leaving behind only the blood that had flowed free of her body before. After several minutes of intense silence, the handmaiden's skin began to knit itself together as if it were somehow being renewed.

Then, as the last signs of Asha's wound faded from her body, an angry red slash appeared across the sphinx's body in roughly the same location as the wound which had just disappeared from Asha's body. The gash seemed to open itself of it's own accord, and the sphinx's body rocked ever so slightly as she took the brunt of the wound onto herself. It was her blood which flowed now, staining her fur crimson. A few moments after the wound appeared on her flesh, Zaval’Kalar stumbled back two steps, removing her paw from Asha's flesh. The glow of the sapphire gem disappeared.

For a moment the sphinx stood there panting, her arm now clutching her own bleeding wound. "I must take to my trance now," she said, a small sense of urgency in her voice. "But first, I must be certain, for I will not be able to wake once I begin; Asha, are you now well?"

[Wufti]

Asha had steeled herself as best she could but she hadn't been expecting the kind of pain that came, nor that the sphinx would directly touch the wound and she cried out in those first few moments until then numbness settled on her. The loss of feeling was deeply frighting but instead of trying to move her body stayed quite still, some of the troubled looking easing from her face and though her eyes closed she was still breathing under the paw and did not seem to be getting worse.

She could not feel it but in her mind she could tell that something was happening inside, the exact mending that was hidden from the eyes of all else and as the wound began to mend her breathing slowly eased and evened out, giving an early indication that it was working. The loss of the gentle weight of the paw brought her eyes open, the first thing she saw the red slash that stained the fur of her healer and a look of pain crossed her face though it was in sympathy for what the sphinx was feeling now in her place.

The handmaiden nodded quickly, not wanting to keep the sphinx from healing herself any longer than she had to. She was still a long way from okay but her flesh was whole again and there was no longer any danger. "Thank you." She whispered; there would be time after Zaval'Kalar awoke for proper gratitude to be given. When the sphinx had taken to her trance Asha's eyes shifted upwards to her mistress, conveying to her without words that she wasn't going anywhere.

[Striker]

The sphinx had a soft smile for the young woman whom she'd just healed as she slowly backed herself away from the Pharaoh's handmaiden. It took a great deal of effort not to stumble, and there was no one there to catch the sphinx as there had been guards to support the false Pharaoh when she had been attacked. But despite the dire situation she now found herself in, the sphinx's face was serene. She lowered herself gently to the marble floor even as her blood spilled across it's pristine surface. Her eyes closed, her chest began to rise and fall evenly and after a moment or two it was clear that she was asleep.

A soft blue glow emanated from the gem on her headdress. It surrounded the sphinx's entire body. Her blood ceased to flow, and though the wound was much slower in closing than it had been when she had healed Asha, it was clear that her life was no longer in danger from the wound. So deep was the sphinx's trance that no amount of poking or prodding would wake her. What the creature had said to the Pharaoh was true; she had no defense against being struck dead while she worked to heal herself.

For the moment, the Pharaoh ignored the healer and turned her full attention on Asha, leaning over her handmaiden and carefully inspecting the area where she had been wounded. Her expression quickly turned from one of scrutiny to one of surprise. "Aia! There is not even a scar!" It was an unexpected relief to discover that her handmaiden was not the least bit marred by the attack against her life. Certainly it would allow her to continue serving as her double. Had she had a scar, it would have been easy for others to tell the difference between them.

As she was flooded with relief at the safety of her handmaiden, it took real effort for her not to rush forward and take the other girl in her arms. It would have been unseemly for the Pharaoh to show such affection for someone who was supposed to be merely a servant. But Asha was far more than a servant to her, and the brief look that passed between them would be enough for the young woman to realize how truly important she was to the Pharaoh... if she had not known already.

The moment passed quickly and the Pharaoh gathered herself to her feet, taking on her most commanding tone. "See to it that the sphinx is made comfortable. Keep guard over her until she wakes. I want to be notified when she has awakened." She owed the sphinx a rich reward, after all.

"The rest of you summon my royal guards and prepare my litter to carry me into the city. It is time the people know that their Goddess is unharmed." And enraged. There was going to be a great deal of hell to pay for this incident, and Nepherteri intended to find out just who was responsible so that they could make the payment.

[Striker]

An hour after the Sphinx had been carried carefully to a more comfortable resting place, the Palace guards stood poised around the Pharaoh's litter beneath the high front archway in twice the numbers they usually did. The Pharaoh was resting comfortably on the silken cushions which had been piled onto the litter for her and was gazing out through the sheer curtains which covered her litter, protecting her from the blowing sands and prying eyes of the citizens. Just enough of her bejeweled form was visible through the obscuring fabric that the people of the city would be able to tell who was being borne through the city.

Surrounded by her handmaidens and her personal guard, the Pharaoh was carried by her litter bearers down into the city. Enough time had passed since the whispered rumors began that the city was alive with wild tales were now being told of assassination attempts. Some of the tales even went so far as to say that the Pharaoh had been killed, but had somehow been brought back to life by the sphinx which had been escorted to the palace. The mere appearance of the Pharaoh's golden litter on the main street of Thekmara was enough to draw an immense crowd.

People pressed as closed as they dared on either side of the road as the Pharaoh was drawn past, whispering in wonder, frantically trying to determine what must have gone on inside the palace and what drew the Queen down from her high place. Certainly she was going to dispel the rumors of her demise... but which ones would prove true and which would be proven wild tales? Those who were brave fell into step behind the guards, following their Queen to her final destination where she was sure to address her people.

Nepherteri's final destination was the town square in the very center of the city's main street. It was surrounded on all sides by Tekmara's open market, crowded at the height of the day normally and positively choked with people by the time the Pharaoh's litter reached it. A hush fell over the crowd as one of the curtains was drawn aside and the Pharaoh gracefully drew herself out of the litter. For a few moments she simply stood, drawn up to her full height, the sun glinting off of the gold, silver and myriad of gems which decorated her and allowed her subjects to bask in the sight of her. Many of the people on the street rarely had a chance to lay eyes upon their queen. Though she was surrounded by guards to protect her, and flanked closely by her beautiful handmaidens, for many of the citizens on the street that day, this would be a story to tell their grandchildren... how they had once stood and gazed in awe at the Pharaoh in all of her glory. How they had once stood not ten feet from her when she had given a speech to her subjects.

Then her mouth came open and she did exactly that. Her voice carried loud and clear as a crystal across the entire square. Those further back on the streets who would not be able to hear her words would have them repeated to them by those who could hear until her news had been carried throughout the entire city.

"As you can all see, rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. I stand here before you, uninjured and whole, with not a mark on me." And it was true, there was not even a bandage or a scar to indicate that there had ever been any foul play directed at their Queen. She allowed a moment of silence to pass and the crowd murmured briefly. Silence fell once more as she again opened her mouth to speak. "Know this, however; not all the rumors which came out of the palace today are lies. Some foul fool saw fit to sneak into the hallowed halls of my palace and make an attempt on my life." There was a collective gasp from the crowd.

"Take in what your eyes see and know that they do not deceive you. Your Queen stands before you, without wound or illness, though mere hours before she was struck by the blade of a killer. What more proof do you need that your Queen is a Goddess, sent to live and breathe among the mere mortals of this earth? Could anyone less than a God be healed of such a dire wound in mere hours? Could anyone less than a God stand before you to speak of an attempt to murder her?

"Egyptia, your Goddess Queen lives!" A grand cheer went up from the crowd, and the Queen waited until it had faded before she spoke again. "But she is angry." Her voice took on a darker tone and once more a murmur ran through the crowd before it once more fell silent. "The foul excuse for a human being who has dared to make an attempt on the life of a Goddess must be brought to justice. Hear my call now, my people, anyone who can bring news to me of this foul interloper will be richly rewarded. I will not rest, and the joy of your Goddess will not be restored, until justice has been served." She stood then for one more moment among her people, once again allowing their eyes to take her in, then she spun on her heel and disappeared into the center of her guards and handmaidens. The litter was once more lifted, but it was several moments before it could begin picking it's way back through the crowd towards the palace.