Line in the Sand (PG)
Sha'uri takes the first steps on the road that will lead to Ra's destruction. Written for the Gen Battle, for the prompt: Sha'uri, line in the sand. Pre-series. ~1,380 words. Rated PG.
Thank you, Random and Aurora, for helping me get this right.
June 2010: There is now a prequel to this story, Read Between the Lines.
Line in the Sand
She walked boldly through the gates of Nagada, trusting that Nashwi and Gaareh would not try to stop her. With her hood pulled over her face, they would not recognize her as Sha'uri, Kasuf's little princess. They would only see her worn robes and the stone jar on her shoulder, and assume she was one of the regular water bearers, going to the mines to offer a cooling draught of water to the slaves...
not slaves! honored workers, toiling for the greater glory
...to offer water to the sl- to the men and boys who labored in the mines, day after day. They worked and breathed the naquadah dust until the coughing sickness took them, or stones broke free to trap them beneath; until Areet came with her herbs and her chants, to seek what she could salvage from the ruins. And those that lived, like Nashwi and Gaareh, limped or hobbled in their lessened roles, scorned by those who were still whole...
not scorned, not mocked! cherished for their sacrifices to the greater glory!
...relegated to guarding the gates of Nagada or other minor tasks, scor- pitied by those who were still whole.
Sha'uri's gaze darted upwards, a flicking glance at the pulsing ball of fire that dominated the sky. Heat shimmered in the air, her shoulders bowing beneath the weight of Ra's power, and she shivered despite it all - tremors in her fingers, the shudder deep in her legs.
He is here. He sees all, he knows all. We give him all, all for the greater glory.
She raised her chin and stilled her limbs. She was Sha'uri, daughter of Kasuf, leader of Nagada. They called her "Little Princess," but she had lived eleven summers, and she had seen joy and grief and pain and death. She had seen Ra riding the skies above them, and walking on the sands in his human form. But she had also listened to whispers and prayers when they thought she was idly playing; she had walked and crawled into the dark places beneath the city, and found traces of times that others had forgotten.
Times that Ra, perhaps, had also cast out of thought.
She was not afraid to seek what lay beneath the stones, beyond memory.
She was not.
Her pace quickened as she walked across the rippling sands until the dunes hid her from view of the city. She knew that the bustle and hum of Nagada was only a few hundred paces away, but as she stood still and watched the breeze tease grains of sand over her sandaled feet, she felt very alone, and terribly small.
Here. This would do.
Setting the water jug down in the sand, she moved a few paces away. Her heart thudded in her breast as she cast back her hood, tilting her face skywards to offer her challenge to Ra. Let him see her! Let him see Sha'uri, as she dared rebel against him!
She tore the layers of robes from her body, and flung them away. Her linen shift did little to protect her, and she could feel the lick of heat on her bare skin. She kicked her sandals from her feet, and stood on the burning sands.
Unprotected. Exposed. Let him do what he would.
She teetered on the verge of blasphemy, feeling at once terrified and exalted. How quickly would Ra strike her down for her iniquity? Would his chariot descend in thunder and flame? Would he turn his face from her, plunging their world into terror and darkness? Or would his fury blaze outwards, rendering her flesh and bones into molten ash?
For all her determined defiance, she did not want others to die for her actions. That is why she had sought this moment and place of solitude: not out of fear of what others might say or do if they saw her, but out of love for her father and their city, that it should not be cast down with her in shame. If Ra saw, if Ra punished, he would destroy her alone.
Now.
She took up the jug again, and opened it. Kneeling in the sand, she tilted the jug so that a fine stream of water splashed downwards, and Ra's potent rays turned the droplets into winking, glittering gems. She churned the sand with her fingers, until water and dust were mixed into something that was not gritty powder, but thicker clay.
Now.
Sha'uri threw back her head one last time to stare at Ra...
all for the greater glory
...and then reached out, and drew a bold line in the sand.
A second, a third, a fourth.
Then she stopped.
And waited.
Lightning did not stab down out of the clear blue sky to smite her where she knelt.
The sands did not open beneath her feet, swallowing the forbidden lines and her iniquitous body in a single moment.
The moons did not fall.
The world did not shatter.
She waited.
Time passed. Her skin prickled from the heat. Her heart continued beating, and her breast rose and fell.
The clay lines began to harden, but Ra did not speak. Ra did not punish.
Ra did not see.
Shuddering, she wrapped her hands around her head, keening deep. Because Ra did not see, and Ra did not know, and all she and her father and her people suffered...
all for the greater glory
...all for one who could not be what she and others had always been told to believe. Ra could not be the sun, bring the sun, make the waters flow deep under stone, give them life and bring them death.
And now that she knew, the weight of that knowledge crushed her, pressing down more heavily than the stones in the mines. For what could be done? Even if Ra was not all-knowing, all-seeing, he still wielded great power. She had seen his great sky chariot, watched his servants punish others with their weapons that spat death, the sun’s fire harnessed to kill those that angered him.
She had learned much, but she could not use that knowledge. No one could.
She did not know how long she knelt there before wearily rising to her feet. She fumbled in the drifts to find her robes and sandals, then sat back down again, carefully drinking the water left in her jug. She knew she would bear the marks of this day's work on her skin; she did not want to suffer sun sickness as well.
And when she was recovered, in body if not in spirit, Sha'uri stood and made her way back to Nagada.
All for the greater glory.
***
Clad in her finest robes, Sha'uri watched Ra's emissary, with the golden medallion of Ra's Eye that swung on his chest. She played the role of dutiful daughter of Ra so that Kasuf should not be punished, but she did not understand. The emissary rejected her as his bride, yet he did not shame her.
"Daniel," he told her, pointing at the Eye.
"Danyer," she repeated obediently, stumbling over the odd syllables.
He smiled, and slipped the medallion out of sight, beneath his strange robes. But he still wore the wires on his face that emphasized his eyes, warning that Ra was all-seeing, all-knowing.
"Daniel," he said again, and she understood now that he was telling her his name.
"Sha'uri," she told him in return. Little Princess. Could he not accept her? Was she unworthy?
He repeated her name, and then spoke again, but she could do nothing but stare in return. His speech was slurred, the sounds unfamiliar.
Then he reached down, and he drew in the sand, as he had before her father! Was this another test? A spark of the old terror made her shiver - could he know of her rebellion, all those years before?
She quickly turned her head away. She must show this emissary that she was a good daughter of Ra, even if her heart knew otherwise.
But he only spoke soft words, and he seemed anxious...
He sighed, and stood up, and turned away.
Her skin prickled. Heart thudding in her breast, she breathed deeply, slowly.
Now.
Sha'uri reached out, brushed the grains smooth, and drew another line in the sand.
Thank you, Random and Aurora, for helping me get this right.
June 2010: There is now a prequel to this story, Read Between the Lines.
Line in the Sand
She walked boldly through the gates of Nagada, trusting that Nashwi and Gaareh would not try to stop her. With her hood pulled over her face, they would not recognize her as Sha'uri, Kasuf's little princess. They would only see her worn robes and the stone jar on her shoulder, and assume she was one of the regular water bearers, going to the mines to offer a cooling draught of water to the slaves...
not slaves! honored workers, toiling for the greater glory
...to offer water to the sl- to the men and boys who labored in the mines, day after day. They worked and breathed the naquadah dust until the coughing sickness took them, or stones broke free to trap them beneath; until Areet came with her herbs and her chants, to seek what she could salvage from the ruins. And those that lived, like Nashwi and Gaareh, limped or hobbled in their lessened roles, scorned by those who were still whole...
not scorned, not mocked! cherished for their sacrifices to the greater glory!
...relegated to guarding the gates of Nagada or other minor tasks, scor- pitied by those who were still whole.
Sha'uri's gaze darted upwards, a flicking glance at the pulsing ball of fire that dominated the sky. Heat shimmered in the air, her shoulders bowing beneath the weight of Ra's power, and she shivered despite it all - tremors in her fingers, the shudder deep in her legs.
He is here. He sees all, he knows all. We give him all, all for the greater glory.
She raised her chin and stilled her limbs. She was Sha'uri, daughter of Kasuf, leader of Nagada. They called her "Little Princess," but she had lived eleven summers, and she had seen joy and grief and pain and death. She had seen Ra riding the skies above them, and walking on the sands in his human form. But she had also listened to whispers and prayers when they thought she was idly playing; she had walked and crawled into the dark places beneath the city, and found traces of times that others had forgotten.
Times that Ra, perhaps, had also cast out of thought.
She was not afraid to seek what lay beneath the stones, beyond memory.
She was not.
Her pace quickened as she walked across the rippling sands until the dunes hid her from view of the city. She knew that the bustle and hum of Nagada was only a few hundred paces away, but as she stood still and watched the breeze tease grains of sand over her sandaled feet, she felt very alone, and terribly small.
Here. This would do.
Setting the water jug down in the sand, she moved a few paces away. Her heart thudded in her breast as she cast back her hood, tilting her face skywards to offer her challenge to Ra. Let him see her! Let him see Sha'uri, as she dared rebel against him!
She tore the layers of robes from her body, and flung them away. Her linen shift did little to protect her, and she could feel the lick of heat on her bare skin. She kicked her sandals from her feet, and stood on the burning sands.
Unprotected. Exposed. Let him do what he would.
She teetered on the verge of blasphemy, feeling at once terrified and exalted. How quickly would Ra strike her down for her iniquity? Would his chariot descend in thunder and flame? Would he turn his face from her, plunging their world into terror and darkness? Or would his fury blaze outwards, rendering her flesh and bones into molten ash?
For all her determined defiance, she did not want others to die for her actions. That is why she had sought this moment and place of solitude: not out of fear of what others might say or do if they saw her, but out of love for her father and their city, that it should not be cast down with her in shame. If Ra saw, if Ra punished, he would destroy her alone.
Now.
She took up the jug again, and opened it. Kneeling in the sand, she tilted the jug so that a fine stream of water splashed downwards, and Ra's potent rays turned the droplets into winking, glittering gems. She churned the sand with her fingers, until water and dust were mixed into something that was not gritty powder, but thicker clay.
Now.
Sha'uri threw back her head one last time to stare at Ra...
all for the greater glory
...and then reached out, and drew a bold line in the sand.
A second, a third, a fourth.
Then she stopped.
And waited.
Lightning did not stab down out of the clear blue sky to smite her where she knelt.
The sands did not open beneath her feet, swallowing the forbidden lines and her iniquitous body in a single moment.
The moons did not fall.
The world did not shatter.
She waited.
Time passed. Her skin prickled from the heat. Her heart continued beating, and her breast rose and fell.
The clay lines began to harden, but Ra did not speak. Ra did not punish.
Ra did not see.
Shuddering, she wrapped her hands around her head, keening deep. Because Ra did not see, and Ra did not know, and all she and her father and her people suffered...
all for the greater glory
...all for one who could not be what she and others had always been told to believe. Ra could not be the sun, bring the sun, make the waters flow deep under stone, give them life and bring them death.
And now that she knew, the weight of that knowledge crushed her, pressing down more heavily than the stones in the mines. For what could be done? Even if Ra was not all-knowing, all-seeing, he still wielded great power. She had seen his great sky chariot, watched his servants punish others with their weapons that spat death, the sun’s fire harnessed to kill those that angered him.
She had learned much, but she could not use that knowledge. No one could.
She did not know how long she knelt there before wearily rising to her feet. She fumbled in the drifts to find her robes and sandals, then sat back down again, carefully drinking the water left in her jug. She knew she would bear the marks of this day's work on her skin; she did not want to suffer sun sickness as well.
And when she was recovered, in body if not in spirit, Sha'uri stood and made her way back to Nagada.
All for the greater glory.
***
Clad in her finest robes, Sha'uri watched Ra's emissary, with the golden medallion of Ra's Eye that swung on his chest. She played the role of dutiful daughter of Ra so that Kasuf should not be punished, but she did not understand. The emissary rejected her as his bride, yet he did not shame her.
"Daniel," he told her, pointing at the Eye.
"Danyer," she repeated obediently, stumbling over the odd syllables.
He smiled, and slipped the medallion out of sight, beneath his strange robes. But he still wore the wires on his face that emphasized his eyes, warning that Ra was all-seeing, all-knowing.
"Daniel," he said again, and she understood now that he was telling her his name.
"Sha'uri," she told him in return. Little Princess. Could he not accept her? Was she unworthy?
He repeated her name, and then spoke again, but she could do nothing but stare in return. His speech was slurred, the sounds unfamiliar.
Then he reached down, and he drew in the sand, as he had before her father! Was this another test? A spark of the old terror made her shiver - could he know of her rebellion, all those years before?
She quickly turned her head away. She must show this emissary that she was a good daughter of Ra, even if her heart knew otherwise.
But he only spoke soft words, and he seemed anxious...
He sighed, and stood up, and turned away.
Her skin prickled. Heart thudding in her breast, she breathed deeply, slowly.
Now.
Sha'uri reached out, brushed the grains smooth, and drew another line in the sand.