House of Eclipses by Casey L. Bond

4

I dressed in a gauzy, royal blue dress embroidered with gold, then tidied my room. There was nothing personal here. Nothing I cared too much to lose or have destroyed. If Father knew I cherished anything, he would have destroyed it already. The bed, wardrobe, and desk might belong to anyone, as might the trunks sitting in the doorway.

At Father’s request, servants arrived in pairs to gather the three trunks. One should have been more than enough to suffice, but Father insisted Citali and I bring our best gowns and adornments and to pack heavily, as no one knew how long this diplomatic journey might take.

Glancing out toward the balcony, the red-orange desert stretched as far as I could see, beyond to the rooftops that glistened past the polished temple of Sol. Outside it, my mother lay. I wished I had the luxury to visit her one last time before we left.

Father had positioned guards outside my rooms and Citali’s last night as if he thought we might run away. I wouldn’t lie and say I didn’t consider it. I’d imagined it a thousand times.

A girl no more than twelve came to make sure I didn’t need further assistance, bowing as she waited for an answer. “Everything is in order except for the mess beneath my bed. I’d like for you to clean it up for me. Do not pass the duty to another,” I warned, watching as she withered from my gaze.

She bent lower, averting her eyes. “I’ll clean it right away, Atena Noor.”

“See that you do.”

She hurried to the bedside as I breezed from the room, then made my way through the labyrinthian House.

I’d hidden food from the feast beneath my bed. She could smuggle it outside or hide in my rooms and eat it there, but either way, she would have a good meal for a day. I only wished I could do something about the hunger she would battle tomorrow.

Citali scowled when I joined our traveling party on the riverbank. I was both terrified and relieved to find Kiran waiting with one other priest. Saric, the eldest priest who’d fallen asleep as Father addressed everyone at the feast only hours ago, stood at Kiran’s side, patiently waiting. Age had bowed his spine and legs. The graying hair he had when I was a child had thinned through the years. He kept his head shaved now, like Father and many of the men in our kingdom.

Did Sol choose Saric and Kiran for this task or did they volunteer?

Saric’s pale brown eyes were as sharp as the wit and wisdom for which he was renowned. He watched as I joined their group.

Kiran did not acknowledge me. He warily looked to the ship bobbing atop the river’s surface, his pallor taking on a greenish hue. The last time he sailed, he was sick for days.

Father had gathered far more than the small party he’d mentioned. Half his personal guard were here: fifty men skilled in the art of warfare, protection, and spying. There were servants still moving things onto the ship, but clearly intending to travel with us, as well as a band of entertainers – a group of dancers.

“What is all this?” I asked Citali as I moved to stand with her.

“We are to throw an opening feast. If the river wasn’t so shallow, the ship might sink from all the food and wine he’s bringing, not to mention the people.” She glanced around at the guard, her eyes snagging on some of the men. I wondered if she knew those she targeted, or if new conquests had caught her eye.

Then… her eyes slid to Kiran and she was slow to look away from him.

I gritted my teeth. “The Aten provides a feast. What will the Lumin offer in return?” I asked.

Her eyes reluctantly tore from Kiran and met mine. “They call it a ball. It is a feast the same as ours, per Father.”

When the last crate of supplies was carried aboard, Father clapped his hands from the ship’s deck and invited everyone on board. Citali and I moved to board the shallow vessel, followed by the eldest priest, Saric, and Kiran. Father’s guard spread out to various positions, armed to the teeth with weapons I could see and those I had no doubt were hidden, before the girls he brought to dance and entertain our southern counterparts boarded. Lastly, a small retinue of servants stepped aboard.

The riverfarer awaited Father’s command to depart. When he gave it, those in his employ freed the ship from where she was tied at the shore, wound the ropes that bound her, and guided her into the river’s middle. The water was disturbingly shallow at the edges, but its middle was more than deep enough to carry us.

I gripped the railing as the ship gathered speed, hot wind catching the white sail overhead as it proudly puffed its chest and dragged us over the blue water.

In the shallows, women washed and wrung clothes while children splashed close by. Here and there the thick, bony armor of crocodiles hovered at the river’s surface. They drifted out of the way of the ship, steering with their strong tails.

The banks changed with the receding water, but remnants of the river’s past greatness could be seen where the earth had dried like scaled skin. The soil was darker closest to the river’s edge, lightening little by little the further away one walked from the life-giving flow.

Sol remained high. Her heat mixed with the moisture in the air and I knew in my bones I would miss her, and Helios.

I took a position at the ship’s side next to a few crates, leaning on the rail and watching as we smoothly slipped by our kingdom. I smiled when groups of children ran to the river just to wave at us, some of them racing the ship for a distance. I lifted my hand and happy squeals shrilled from their tiny chests.

Did they recognize us, or would any returned wave excite them?

Citali surrounded herself with the handsomer members of Father’s guard. Their eyes fought a battle not to look at her rather revealing dress. She didn’t care if any of them were punished for lusting after one of the Atenas, reveling in the power her body had over them. And like fish in the water they gaped, swimming toward her bait. They wouldn’t even know they’d been hooked until she lifted them from the water they needed to survive and cast them to the shore to suffocate and die.

Zarina hadn’t seen us off. No doubt she was still sour at being left behind. If Sol did choose her while we were away, would she be different when we returned?

I tried to envision Zarina as the Aten.

The Atens of old were depicted on temple walls as having a glow, like that of Sol’s corona. Father did not emit light; in stark contrast, darkness flowed from his every word and action. As hard as it was to imagine Zarina as the Aten, it was even harder for me to imagine that she would choose me.

Still… what would it be like to have the goddess’s favor? To be the Aten, to have her ear, see her face, and walk with her?

Father never spoke of his dealings with the goddess. I had a feeling it had more to do with greed than secrets he was bound to keep. Other Atens had detailed their meetings with the goddess of gold and fire in such detail, it scorched my fingertips to glide them over their carved depictions.

Father was silent about anything that didn’t prominently feature him and hoarded her wisdom and gifts, almost as if he resented Sol for perpetually outshining him.

Saric shuffled toward me. I stood as he stopped and gestured to the wooden crates. “Would you help me sit, Atena?”

His voice was rusted and as weak as his body. He reminded me of reed husks lying at the older edge of the river, bent and broken. A servant girl saw us and brought over two pillows. I gently took hold of his arm and eased him onto one, then positioned the other behind his back. “Are you comfortable enough?” I asked, knowing there was little comfort to be found aboard the rocking vessel. The ship did not offer comfort. It wasn’t built to accommodate so many.

“I am well, Atena, thank you,” he wheezed.

Beneath the wrinkled, sagging skin on his chest lay his kind heart. Sol dwelled in her priests, they said. Just a spark of her. But I thought that sometimes when Saric looked at me, her proffered spark was visible in his smile.

Saric caught his breath, settling against the pillows. He smiled and thanked me again unnecessarily. Kiran walked over, carrying a cup, and offered his elder a drink of water. The old priest’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, brother.” Saric took a sip. His withered hands shook as he clutched the golden cup, but the water did not slosh or spill. “There was a time when I was the young lad taking care of my elder brothers, you know,” he told Kiran in thanks.

Another sip.

Kiran did not look at me when he asked, “Would you like some water, Atena?”

“No, thank you. I’m not thirsty,” I replied woodenly.

The old man glanced from Kiran to me, the space between his brows further wrinkling. I should’ve softened my voice.

“Brother.” He patted the crate beside him – the side farthest from me. “Take a seat. The water sickness will pass.”

Kiran eased down beside him and let his back thump against the wooden rail. He looked as green as the hair-like algae drifting from the riverbed.

Saric cleared his throat, looking up at me from his makeshift seat. “Atena, Sol has been disturbed of late. Have you noticed a shift in her?”

Yes.

Her fire burned hotter. She didn’t lift herself far enough into the sky to give us respite as she once had, but instead poured her heat upon us. What had we done to anger her?

“I have,” I admitted.

“I raised my concerns to your father, but the Aten does not believe anything is amiss.”

It did not surprise me to hear that Father dismissed the worry of Sol’s eldest living priest. How predictable. I would not ignore Saric’s words. What he spoke was true, even if we did not know the reason.

“Could it be that she’s ready to shift her heir?” I asked. “Perhaps she has drawn nearer to better assess the three Atenas?”

He paused to consider my words. “Perhaps, but I have a dark feeling in the pit of my stomach that no amount of Sol’s light can banish.”

A shiver coursed up my spine at the thought, but I pushed it away. Sol seemed more powerful than ever, not less. Perhaps Saric’s days were growing dark as the sands of time in his life’s hourglass sifted away. The top was nearly empty. “Sol’s light can send away any shadow,” I argued, shifting so my hip leaned against the ship rail to better see Saric’s face.

The old priest tilted his head to the side and winced. “It can, but what if Sol chose to allow the darkness to descend, and to remain?”

I couldn’t look away from him. Saric knew more than he admitted. I could feel it. “Why would she do that?”

My father’s voice boomed from the bow where he stood among his guard, drawing our attention away for a second.

“Why indeed?” Saric quietly asked.