PrologueWings
If only he’d been looking up at the world instead of down at his feet, he’d have seen it coming.
The ibis had been poking about in the dense papyrus thickets, dipping his needle-sharp beak into the river,quick-quick, hunting for fish. He was a disheveled bird, his moon-colored body and jumble of black tail feathers giving the impression that he cared very little about appearances.
But hedidpreen. Every morning.
Besides, he looked no different from his brethren. His flock was scattered around him, loping through the water with deliberate strides, their red-ringed eyes focused on the slippery morsels that darted beneath the surface. They’d had poor hunting the previous day, and so they were particularly hungry—and particularly careless.
They neither heard the rustle of men in the thicket nor felt the water tremble with the men’s approach.
Then: a splash. Close. Very close.
The ibis raised his head, his long, slender neck bending into a question. He murmured, low and wondering, before another splash turned his wonder to alarm.
Fly away! Fly away!the ibis opened his beak to cry.
Too late. A guttural call broke the silence, and as the flock opened its wings in unison to take flight, a net fell upon them, dragging them back down.
Panicked, the ibis flapped and struggled as the net drew tighter and tighter still, until he found himself pressed up against the other birds in a writhing mass of flesh and feathers. Terror turned the voice of the collective into a cacophony of individual cries. The ibis kicked against the birds below him, while the claws of the birds above dug into the tender skin of his face and neck. He felt the net rise into the air, carried through the marshes by unseen hands. Soon, the green smell of the water was replaced by dust and heat. The ibis grew so exhausted he could no longer move, and was pummeled down, down, into the belly of the net.
Over the frightened yelps of his brethren, the ibis heard a man speak.
“Did you hear what happened?” the man said. “One of the fishermen told me.”
The other man grunted and spit on the ground. “Better not to speak of it.”
The first man, ignoring his companion’s advice, continued. “He said he’d arrived from south of Bubas and saw something strange flowing downriver. Never would have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. What do you think it means?”
“That’s for the priests to decide. We have our work; they have theirs.”
“I think it means change is coming to Khetara,” the first man said, undeterred. “Just as the pharaoh said it would! Don’t youremember his speech? ‘The forgotten floodgates of power’? ‘The currents of war’?”
There was a pause. “Perhaps.”
The ibis was pressed against one of his flock mates, and felt his heart racing beneath wet plumage. A moment later, the net was set on hard, sandy ground.
“You don’t agree?” the first man asked.
“I agree that the sooner we process these birds, the sooner we can go home.”
With that, the net loosened. There was a cry and flapping of wings as a bird was pulled out, and then a sharpsnap.
The ibis’s own heart quickened with horror.
“How can you be so cynical?” the first man asked as another bird was lifted from the net. “Everyone I know is excited about King Meryamun! He has great plans for the kingdom! All of Thonis is suffused with hope!”
“Hope and foolishness are neighbors, my friend,” the second man said. “It is all too easy to enter the wrong house.”
Snap.
Suddenly, the struggle to reach the opening of the net reversed, and the captured birds began fighting to get away from the men’s grasping hands. The ibis found himself being shoved to the top, until he could see the growing pile of limp feathered bodies on the ground nearby.
“Pah!” the first man scoffed, reaching for the bird directly above the ibis and pulling it free. “Our entire business is based on hope! Hope that our mummified ibises will cure our customers’ ills, grant their wishes, and bring Thoth’s favor upon them in the Duat. Without hope, people wouldn’t buy, and we would have nothing.”
“Perhaps the new king will rule as he claims,” the second man said. “Perhaps this omen is a good one. But hope is a poorreplacement for preparation. Keep your eyes open, my friend. The gods help those who help themselves.” The ibis watched as the man snapped his flock mate’s neck with one swift motion and tossed its corpse onto the pile.
He felt the shadow of death fall over him.
