Reignited

  “It is not meant to be,” Isis interrupted quickly, already knowing what Baniti was going to say. She frowned watching Baniti struggle to her feet. Seeing one she loved so enfeebled saddened her. “We’ve had this discussion before,” Isis finished distractedly.

  “But surely Amun-Ra can—”

  “Even if he could, he wouldn’t.” Isis stroked the downy head of the newborn.

  “Besides, for a child to even be a possibility, there would have to be a man in my life first. And the one I’m interested in is more concerned with duty than love.”

  “So there is someone. I have to admit, I’ve been wondering about you. Will you tell me who he is?”

  Isis sighed. “It doesn’t matter. He isn’t receptive.”

  “Then he’s a fool.”

  “Be that as it may, Amun-Ra has always told us to content ourselves with what we are and that the state we are born into is the only state we should aspire to. Even if the one I wanted desired me in return, his adherence to the law is firm. It seems I should relegate myself to a life lived alone.”

  “Bah,” Baniti said with a dismissive wave of her hand and bustled about the small home straightening the baby’s things as she waited for his mother to return from the fields. “No one deserves to be alone. Especially one such as you. I don’t believe Amun-Ra’s opinion is valid.”

  “No?”

  “Absolutely not. If we mortals had nothing to aspire to, we’d just give up and die in our beds. There is no reason you can’t seek out what you dream. Everyone has the right to dream of something more.”

  “Perhaps you are right.” Isis kissed the little cheek of the sleeping baby and handed him to Baniti, who settled him in his basket and tucked his blanket around him. “I must return to the council.”

  Baniti took Isis’s hand, cupping hers around it. Very few mortals dared to touch the goddess, but Baniti had been hers ever since Isis found her as an abandoned child. The goddess was like a mother to her, though now Baniti looked the part of the goddess’s great-grandmother. “Isis, if a love of your own and a child by that man is the secret wish of your heart, then you will make it happen. Trust in yourself and your power. I always have.”

  Isis wrapped her arms around the old woman and was shocked at how slight and fragile her frame was. Baniti shuddered and coughed, seemingly unable to catch her breath. Several moments passed until Baniti was able to breathe normally again. Isis, who had taken hold of her shoulders during her struggle, asked, “Is it the same sickness as the child?”

  Baniti shook her hand and coughed again before answering. “No, goddess. The tickling of my lungs is different.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She shrugged. “I’m an old woman. Do you think I’ll live as long as you?”

  “You’re not old.” Isis shook her slightly and then stopped, remembering how frail the woman was now. “You’re still young,” she said, denying the obvious. “It wasn’t that long ago we were running and playing together.”

  “That was decades ago.”

  Kissing Baniti’s wrinkled forehead, Isis admonished, “Shhh. Remain still.”

  Isis moved behind her beloved servant and pressed her hands against the woman’s back. She could feel the fluid filling her lungs, making her breathing difficult. The goddess attempted to use a spell to heal her, but Baniti’s aging form rejected her magic. It was the way of things. Each being in the universe was allotted a certain portion of time, a span for them to live their lives. Once that time ran out, there was nothing anyone, not even the gods, could do to prevent it from fading. She knew it, but it was too soon. Isis staggered back, her eyes filling with tears. “No,” she whispered. “I’m not ready to let you go.”

  “You might not be ready, but I am. This body isn’t strong anymore. When I’m awake, I hurt. When I lie down, I ache. There’s no rest for me.”

  “I’ll fix this,” Isis promised. “You aren’t going to die before the next moon. That much I can tell. But this sickness will weaken you. It will bring you to the door of death if I don’t find a way to do something about it.”

  “Then maybe it’s time to introduce me to that good-looking Anubis. I can think of worse ways to go than to be escorted to the afterlife on the arm of one such as him.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m keeping you far away from Anubis.”

  “What a pity,” Baniti said and when she saw Isis still hesitating she waved her arms.

  “All right, all right, now shoo. Go on to your meeting. I’ll be here when it’s over.”

  “Yes, you will,” Isis said with determination.

  Patting Baniti’s arm in farewell, Isis leapt into the air, her wings snapping open to carry her back to the barrier between the mortal realm and Heliopolis.

  #

  “No,” Amun-Ra said after Isis asked again, begging him with all the sincerity of her soul and even offering a part of herself. “You know it isn’t allowed, there just isn’t enough life energy remaining in the Waters of Chaos. Besides, mortals are what we’ve created them to be. Unfortunately, the very definition of mortal is that death is inevitable.”

  “But don’t you see? It doesn’t have to be. These rules are self-imposed. Surely there can be exceptions.”

  “Then when do we stop, Isis? Which god will you take energy from to make her immortal? Nut? Geb? Because that’s what would have to happen. And if I allowed you to use a part of your own power, there would soon be nothing left of you. You love your mortals too much. I cannot risk such a thing. Surely you understand the ramifications. The entire cosmos could implode!”

  “But we don’t know that, do we?”

  He sighed and sat back in his chair. “It’s better to be safe, Isis. We must keep our creations safe and keep our family safe. When we play with dangerous substances, we ensure our own destruction.”

  “But what if there was another way?” She hadn’t considered it before, but the idea had come to her when a bird flew past the window overhead.

  “And what way would that be?”

  “What if I took the life energy of another creation? Not a god, but perhaps an ancient tree or an animal?” she suggested. Even as she spoke, the words of a spell, a powerful one, filled her mind. She could do it. She knew she could.

  Amun-Ra interrupted her thoughts. “And why does the animal or tree deserve to give over its existence to prolong the life of another?”

  “We could ask it to volunteer.”

  “No,” he answered, forming his lips around the word in such a way that she knew he would brook no further argument.

  Isis threw up her hands and growled, “You’re not keeping an open mind.”

  “And I’d say your mind is too open. What you’re suggesting is an abuse of our powers.”

  “Amun-Ra is right, Isis,” a familiar voice interrupted.

  Stiffening, Isis turned away from the man who’d entered the chamber. “This is a private conversation, Osiris.”

  “I’m sorry if I’ve come at an inopportune time, but I overheard what you said and felt I should caution you that the others would be milling about here soon. Perhaps this conversation would best be held in another place? A place not easily accessed by the entire Ennead.”

  Isis folded her arms and frowned, finally looking at Osiris. Seeing the I’m-much-wiser-than-you, big-brotherly expression of tolerant pity on his face was the last straw. She was about to light into him when Amun-Ra held up a hand. “Thank you for the timely interruption, Osiris. He is right that we need to turn our attention to other things at present. I’m afraid this is my final decision, Isis. I warn you that no amount of pleading or abasing is going to change my mind. I’m sorry. Now please excuse me as I take my leave to make sure the feast is prepared.”

  As Amun-Ra swept from the room, all the fight went out of her, leaving a brokenhearted Isis alone with Osiris.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he said.

  She sniffed. “You don’t even know what you’re sorry
for.”

  “I’m sorry for a lot of things where you’re concerned, actually. Despite that, he’s right. We have laws for a reason.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you about laws.”

  “Well, too bad.”

  Isis was startled at his tone. Osiris had never been anything but polite and patient with her. He raked a hand through his dark hair. “Look, I understand having an attachment, even one that’s . . . deeply felt, but there’s something to be said for controlling ourselves. There must be moderation. Adhering to the statutes Amun-Ra put in place is not a bad thing.”

  “But what if there’s more?” she challenged.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “If by our laws we are bound, then perhaps by breaking them we are boundless,” replied Isis.

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “What I mean is that the very things that weaken us, that cause us to feel . . . vulnerable”—Osiris raised an eyebrow—“might actually make us more powerful than we could possibly imagine,” she finished.

  He sighed. “Isis—” he began, but she cut him off with the wave of her hand.

  Locking her eyes to his, she challenged, “What if there was a way for us to fulfill our dreams? To have what we most desire, simply by embracing the things that outwardly appear unsuitable?”

  She took a step forward, the tree branches in the atrium casting their grayish-blue shadows over her face. Osiris edged back nervously. Isis pressed on trying to explain it in a way Osiris would understand. “Why should we be satisfied with a simple harvest, an acceptable yield, when we have the ability to produce more?”

  Osiris knew very well that Isis was no longer talking about saving her mortal. At least, that wasn’t the only thing she was alluding to. The fact that her words echoed the little voice in his mind, the one he’d been trying to ignore, didn’t help. He couldn’t, wouldn’t consider what she was asking. It would undo everything. Cold fear crept through his veins.

  He stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. It roused her temper. Irritated, she continued, “If it was possible for you to achieve something, to attain something, to aspire to something you yearned for above all else, wouldn’t you give anything just to have the opportunity? Why do we have all this power, Osiris, if we aren’t meant to use it?”

  A clapping sound echoed in the room. “Hear, hear. I wholeheartedly agree with you, Isis.”

  Osiris frowned at the new arrival. “Seth. We are in the middle of a private conversation.”

  “How ironic for you to adopt that attitude, Osiris,” Isis said, her irritation turning into ire. “It matters not, regardless. I can see your mind is fixed upon your course of action. This discussion is over.”

  Isis swept around Osiris as he stood rooted in place, and his back stiffened as he heard Seth ask if he could escort Isis to the feast. He had been meaning to accompany her himself, as a sort of peace offering between them. By doing so, he’d been hoping to make amends for the poor way he’d handled her before. In truth, he’d been able to think of little else but her when he was gone. Coming home had been an excuse. Osiris wanted to fix what was wrong between them and now Seth was getting in the way.

  When Isis agreed to sit next to Seth at the feast as well, Osiris tightened his hands into fists and trailed slowly behind them, never taking his eyes off Isis’s gleaming wings except to glare at Seth’s hand that had encircled her waist.

  His mood didn’t improve during dinner. Seth had positioned himself near the head of the table in the spot usually reserved for Osiris. Then he somehow managed to have Isis sit on one side of him and Nephthys on the other. He also caught Seth sneaking looks at Isis whenever her attention was turned to something else. Was it possible that Seth was interested in her in a romantic way?

  Osiris wouldn’t put it past him. Seth was never one to take rules too seriously. Isis was lonely. She wanted someone to love her, to offer her more than just friendship. Then there was the undeniable fact that Isis was the loveliest creature he’d ever seen. Surely Osiris wasn’t the only man who’d noticed her.

  None of them, not even Isis, had ever taken Seth seriously before. He was always tagging along, trying to keep up with the other gods. Osiris rubbed his jaw as he studied Seth. The boy had filled out a bit, but he was still rough around the edges. Seth had always been wild, angry. He’d treated mortals badly, demanded their adoration. Osiris didn’t want that for Isis. She deserved much better than Seth.

  When Seth offered Isis a berry and nudged the succulent fruit between her lips himself, Osiris could not control the shaking of his hands. He tried to talk about something else, anything else, to distract himself from the scene being played out in front of his eyes. But his reports on vegetation, crops, and the wonders of nature weren’t enough to take his attention away from Seth’s obvious flirtation. How could no one else be noticing Seth’s behavior? Was he always like this now?

  Seth even began charming Nephthys. The man had no shame. As he sat at dinner gloating over his latest exploits, each astounding achievement questionable at best, everyone turned a rapt ear. How could they believe that Seth rescued an entire village from a fire? Seth had never lifted a finger to help anyone, especially mortals. Even Osiris couldn’t help but listen and gape at the man’s audacity as he spoke of returning stolen infants to parents, encouraging misguided youth, and even rescuing a nest of baby birds from the mouth of a hungry viper.

  Seth kissed Nephthys’s hand in an all-too-friendly manner and promised she could play the winner after he challenged Isis to the new game he’d invented. A game. Osiris snorted in disgust. Surely there were better uses of a god’s time than games.

  Wanting to distract himself from the distasteful display Seth was orchestrating, Osiris attempted to wipe the sullen expression from his face. He then cleared his throat and said, “I have an interesting story to share.”

  Though all eyes turned toward Osiris, Isis lifted her cup and pointedly looked away, ignoring him. Seth noticed and curled his lips in a mocking grin. “Tell us, then,” Seth said. “For I personally find farm tools and the merits of various types of manure vastly interesting,” he finished with a sweeping gesture of his arm.

  Osiris tried to ignore him and said, “A farmer told me that an enemy had come upon his field by night and had sown tares among his crop of wheat. There was no way to know it had happened until the grain started to grow and the tares became obvious.”

  “Fascinating,” Seth said with a pinched mouth, then laced his fingers together and rested his chin upon them. “Do go on.”

  “He asked me if he should remove the tares immediately, but I cautioned him not to, saying that if he removed them early, it might damage the wheat. I instructed him to wait until they were grown and then harvest the wheat and burn the tares.” Osiris leaned forward, pressing his hands against the table. “The funny thing about tares is that when the seedlings are young, they look just like the wheat. But they are nothing like the plant they mimic.”

  Osiris looked around the room. “Tares have no purpose. They have no value. They take up precious space in an otherwise fertile, productive field. They do not serve mankind. In fact”—he turned his eyes to Seth and narrowed his eyes—“they are nothing more than a blight to be rooted out and burned.”

  Seth wrenched back in his chair, the expression on his face volatile. “Then perhaps the thing to do would be to burn the whole field,” he spat.

  “That would be wasteful, don’t you think?” Osiris answered as he folded his arms across his broad chest.

  “Well, I guess that’s the difference between you and me,” Seth answered. “I wouldn’t waste time trying to salvage a few scrawny stalks of wheat when I can just raze the crop and start over again.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Osiris acceded. “It would be easier. But the easiest path is not always the best one. Struggle often strengthens.”

  “An interesting debate, to be sure,” Amun-Ra said with a quick glance at Neph
thys, “but I’m more interested in music at present.” The staunchly neutral diplomatic leader of the gods pressed on, insisting they change the subject in his own way. “Osiris, what musicians have you brought us this time?”

  Osiris reluctantly drew his eyes away from Seth. “Ah, yes, I nearly forgot. On my last journey I came across two men who have created an instrument they call a sistrum.”

  The table was cleared as the musicians set up. Osiris couldn’t help but be pleased when he overheard Seth trying to spirit Isis away for the promised game, but she waved her hand, saying that she’d meet him after the musicians were finished. Then his rising confidence took a hit when she added that the music was what she enjoyed the most about having Osiris visit. When Seth whined, trying to manipulate her into doing what he wanted, Nephthys volunteered to play him first.

  It was clear that Seth was undecided, so to help him move along, Osiris approached and bowed briefly to Isis. “I was wondering if I could entice my . . . my dear friend to a dance?”

  Isis glared at Osiris, obviously still upset about his siding with Amun-Ra, if not about other things. She replied a bit coldly, “I wouldn’t know. Do you have any friends here?”

  Seth chortled in delight. “Come, Nephthys, my dear. We’ll return for Isis later.” He brazenly stroked Isis’s silky wing. “Don’t be too long,” he said. “I’ve been looking forward to besting you in this game.”

  Osiris clenched his fists and frowned.

  “I’d offer to play you,” Seth said to Osiris, “but I’m afraid it might be a little bit over your head,” he teased with pinched fingers, trying to indicate the size of Osiris’s intellect.

  Osiris itched to bang Seth’s head against the wall but somehow managed to restrain himself. “Move along and play your little games, Seth. Some of us have more important things to do.”

  Seth's calculating eyes turned sharp, dangerous, but Nephthys quickly whispered something in his ear. It must have been an effective distraction, because the two of them soon left. Since Isis was ignoring him, Osiris turned his attention to the musicians as their music swelled, filling the halls of Heliopolis.