Knocking off the painted mask, shedding resin dust and linen fiber, the monster stamped ancient bones as it stepped from its coffin.
Free. Free for the first time in centuries, after eons of imprisonment, yet still a slave to magic. Magically animated, the creation was cursed to fulfill an ancient duty.
Crushing skulls underfoot, the mummy shambled toward its task.
To hunt the intruders.
6
The 383rd Anniversary of the Great Arrival
'Am I some dung-shoveler's daughter? A goose girl? A street smoother? A fat-bottomed milkmaid? A soldier's trollop?'
Midnight was approaching, and Amenstar stood naked-save for the bandage on her leg-before an armoire holding thirty feet of dazzling apparel.
'Why do I have no decent clothes?'
'Your Majesty,' simpered her eldest maid, 'the seamstresses stitched seven gowns-'
'I didn't want to attend this stupid gala in the first place,' Star snapped.
'But the ball's in your honor, Highness,' put in her secretary-maid. 'You must greet both the samirs of Oxonsis and Zu-'
'I must marry them,' Amenstar shrieked in outrage. She slammed her closet doors, and her modest breasts swung in time. 'One of them, anyway… That's what this party's about. Showing me off like a beribboned heifer at the Solstice Fair, a greased pig for farm boys to fight over. I might as well be a chicken in the meat market with my head on the block-'
'If only you were a prize pullet,' interrupted a cool voice, 'we could stuff you in a sack and stifle your cackling.'
Star whirled to find her mother filling the doorway. Behind her, six maids and four bodyguards stared at a high spot on the wall. The samira's dozen maids trooped behind their mistress and curtsied deeply.
The first sama arched a kohl-darkened eyebrow and said, 'Is that your intended garb, dear daughter? This is only your coming out party, not your wedding night.'
Huffing extravagantly, Star extended a limp hand and received a robe. Tartly, she sneered, 'If the samirs have journeyed this far to seek my hand, perhaps they should see the whole package. Kingdoms may collapse if I'm returned on my wedding night because the goods weren't delivered as bargained.'
The sama sighed in imitation of her daughter. Waggling her fingers caused maids to scurry to retrieve a low, armless chair. The queen sat, accepted a silk handkerchief, and dabbed her brow.
'Amenstar,' she sighed, 'why must my most difficult daughter be the eldest? Try to listen, dear, for the novelty if nothing else. You must understand that nobles, male and female, have a duty to marry well.'
'I know what you're going to say, Mother,' Star groaned, 'I've heard it a thousand times.'
'Then hear it again,' her mother glowered. 'Royals' lives are not their own. We belong to the city, to history, to our ancestors, and to our descendants. Commoners may marry whom they please because their lives don't matter. Ours do. The price we pay for wealth and prestige is that we marry not for love, but for position, for the good of our homeland and families. That is why-' the Sama leaned on her words-'you must welcome the Samirs of Oxonsis and Zubat. Your father, myself, and the other wives have spent many long days comparing their military and economic merits-'
'— and which shall be awarded the prize mare?' Star jabbed.
'More like a sow, and a bristly one at that,' the sama said. 'No, you'll marry whoever proves the more powerful prince. Both are heirs to thrones, but negotiations have so far proved unfruitful. Cursrah needs to ally to protect our-'
Star slapped both hands over her ears and shrilled, 'One more word about politics and I'll scream until I faint!'
The sama shot from her chair and snatched her daughter's hands. Stunned, Amenstar stepped back. Her mother hadn't touched her since birth.
The sama's black-rimmed eyes blazed. 'I wish you weren't highest born,' she hissed, ''so you could be whipped raw like some guttersnipe. Hear this: you will dress in your finest gown, you will appear at the stroke of midnight, and you will dazzle both samirs. If you can waste pleasantries on common friends-who are not invited to this reception-you can please royal guests as well. Do you understand me?'
'Yes, First Mother.'
Never had Star's mother grown so angry, and Star was too stunned by her reaction to make further trouble.
'You'd better, or I'll see you sold to a cannibal prince past the Dragon's Wall, and your sister Tunkeb can entertain our guests,' the sama threatened. Her glare did not soften, but she bid a retainer step forward. The courtier carried a pillow upon which sat a bright, bundled handkerchief. 'Enough, now. For this historic occasion, your sixteenth birthday, your father and we wives have fashioned a present.'
Still rattled, but curious, Amenstar picked away the handkerchief's corners carefully, as if fearing a deadly asp might uncoil from its folds. Seeing the present, she frowned.
'Am I to wear this tonight?' the young samira asked. 'I'm not sure it goes with my outfit.'
The queen stifled a sigh and said, 'Wear it anyway.'
On the pillow was cradled a tiara, a silver headband scrolled with zigzagging squares around a square-cut moonstone of milk white radiance. Star settled it on her head and found that it fit perfectly; naturally, since the royal silversmiths knew all her sizes. Star remained aloof, since she received exquisite gifts daily.
'How does this complement tonight's… historic occasion?' she asked her mother.
'The moonstone is a storytelling charm. It remembers all it sees and can later recall the images for the wearer, as if dreaming. Wear it tonight and record your coming-of-age ceremony, though you refuse to come of age. There's a matching piece of jewelry to go with it-but that's a surprise for later.'
Star admired her tiara in a polished bronze mirror. It went well with her dusky skin and accented her noble nose and brow. Mention of matching jewelry intrigued her, but before she could ask, her mother rambled on.
'… Everyone will be eager to see you, so do arrive promptly at midnight, dear, or else.'
Her mother swept from the wing with a score of retainers in her train.
A dozen wide-eyed maids awaited Star's next move. Opening her closet door, she grabbed an armful of clothes, all her new-sewn gowns, and flung them to the floor.
Tou heard my mother,' she said. 'I need a fine gown. Throw these rags in the fire pit. We've got two hours before midnight. Fetch me a dozen seamstresses if you have to break down doors and drag them here by the hair.'
Maids scurried like quail, but Star snagged her secretary's wrist.
'Bring papyrus and quill,' Star ordered, 'I'll send a message to Gheqet and Tafir… and see what my mother thinks of that!'
'Are you sure your family won't object?''
By the light of a dozen bronze lamps, Amenstar held various outfits in front of Gheqet and Tafir, clothes looted from her brothers' apartments. 'Trust me,' she said.
Star had finally settled on a red sheath with many delicate pleats that complemented her red-brown skin, all sewn with silver thread that matched her silver tiara. The gown clung from just above her nipples to the floor, its sheerness providing a peekaboo effect she hoped would detract from her limp-her calf still ached as if a dagger were buried in the muscle. Her hair was freshly braided into cornrows with pearls and silver beads that jarred musically when she moved, and perfumed with myrrh for a resinous, woodsy smell. The moonstone tiara, newly polished, glittered as if alive.
'You look stunning, Star,' said Tafir, 'almost like a princess.'
'Except all that kohl around your eyes makes you look like a cross-eyed zebra,' smirked Gheqet.
