Volume 1, Chapter 17: Public Relations Was Not in the Job Description (Patreon)

“Was I? Sekhmet?” I replied, scratching my chin and watching the audience’s reaction. They had gone completely still, waiting to hear what I had to say.

Unfortunately, the appearance of the woman I was speaking to kept dragging my thoughts toward rather more exposed and softer regions of her anatomy. Knowing the situation I was in, however, I decided to throw a mental yoke around myself and keep those urges under control.

“I’m certain,” I cleared my throat, “that there’s been some kind of mistake. I’ve never been anyone’s guardian, and I would definitely remember if she were the daughter of someone of such divine stature.”

While educating myself about art, I had at one point wandered into the mythologies of various civilizations, and I was fairly certain Sekhmet—or something close to it—appeared somewhere in the Egyptian pantheon. The appearance of these people, the pyramids, and the general aesthetic only strengthened that suspicion.

So I decided to play along with the hand I’d been dealt.

“Then let the sleepers judge the facts. When the sand mole seized her, you ran. What should they call that, Alexander, if not abandonment? What—“

“Ex-bloody-cuse me?” I interrupted her the moment I understood what she was doing and how she intended to steer this conversation. I had no intention of letting her paint my portrait from the perspective she had already chosen.

In response to my outrage, one of the spheres suspended in the air swept in an arc above our little arena, which, as I now understood, had been prepared specifically for verbal combat. Lowering its flight, it moved closer to me from the left.

The woman opposite me leaned back slightly, exposing her beautiful, long neck, while continuing to pet the cat, which reacted to my outburst with nothing more than a twitch of one ear.

“Let’s get three things straight,” I added, extending one hand in front of me and raising three fingers. Folding down the first, I began.

“First, I didn’t realize we were talking about Brigid, or that she was the daughter of your Goddess.”

A quiet chuckle rolled through the hall like a wave. Even though each person laughed softly, one sound quickly overlapped with another, briefly pulling my attention away. When I focused on the woman conducting this interrogation again, amusement was written across her face as well.

“Second, I didn’t leave her behind on purpose. I didn’t know what she was capable of, and the moment I understood the situation she was in, I went back for her, just as I went back and helped her every other time she needed me.” I folded the second finger, leaving the third—the middle one firmly extended and pointing toward the ceiling.

“Every time?” The woman raised one eyebrow as her cat slowly stretched and then sat upright on her lap. Her hand quickly found the animal’s head again, scratching around and beneath its ears. What interested me more than the animal, however, was that her hand never changed rhythm. Not when I contradicted her, not when the audience laughed, not even when I swore at her. Either she wasn’t nervous at all, or she was exceptionally practiced at deciding which parts of herself an audience was allowed to see.

“I’m not finished.” I furrowed both brows. “Third, you people have gotten something seriously fucking wrong, and you’re so far up your own asses you can’t see straight. I don’t know you. I don’t know your world. Even if it shares the same name as mine, and probably part of the same history, I don’t give a shit about your customs.

“While you sit comfortably in your homes… actually, no, wait. Not even that. While you lie comfortably in your little beds and dream about what we’re doing to survive, we’re the ones actually getting our hands dirty with our own blood and everyone else’s.

“So spare me the moralizing, pretentious bullshit.”

My interlocutor watched me for a moment, the smile never leaving her face. Eventually, however, she picked up the hairless, bald cat, leaned down, and gently placed it on the floor.

When it turned around and prepared to jump back onto her lap, she stopped it with one hand resting lightly on its head, then gave it a pat on the back, sending it off to the side.

Once she was alone, she rose to her full height, revealing the entirety of her perfectly composed figure. The same golden decorations that adorned her face spiraled around her legs and arms, beginning at the elbows and winding down toward her knuckles. Her fingernails and toenails were painted as well, though in the same color as the close-fitting dress that hugged her body.

She looked down at me, resting one hand on her hip, then chose one side of the audience and focused her attention there. Slowly, she swept her gaze from left to right, making sure every person watching felt included.

“Ra has seen enough to disagree. Osiris already weighs your life. Isis watches what you do with gifts you did not earn. Horus looks down from his throne. And Sekhmet—our Lady of Flame, Wrath, and Healing—has placed her daughter in your path.” She finally turned from the audience toward me. “Tell me, Alexander: how many gods must witness a duty before you admit that it exists?”

“Bri, as far as I’m concerned, has nothing to do with your goddess. And even if she does,” I interrupted her again, “it changes absolutely nothing for me. More importantly, it’s because of you and your shitty request that I’m here instead of with her, trying to help.” I stood as I finished speaking. It felt stupid talking to someone who was standing while I remained seated.

Unfortunately, the change did little to improve how I presented myself to the audience. Despite being six-foot-one, the woman still towered over me by at least half a head.

“Alexander, Brigid’s nature is no longer a matter of opinion. The High Priests have ruled unanimously: she is a daughter of Sekhmet. That makes her safety sacred. If she dies through your negligence, we will judge you accordingly. If you prove unequal to the duty, someone worthier will take your place,” She spoke without turning toward me. “And why should we trust you with her? You are a thief. A cutthroat. A man who insists on calling himself an artist.” She looked deliberately toward the audience. “Yet where is the artist? Where is the fire? Thus far, our sleepers have seen only a man exceptionally talented at surviving.”

“First of all—” The audience began chuckling again, but I ignored them. “It would be nice if you introduced yourself. You know my name, and I have no idea who I’m talking to. Some lackey who brought me here—“ I deliberately diminished his importance, knowing how he treated slaves “—mentioned Meritmaat, Overseer of Examinations, but whether that’s you or someone who comes after you, I have no fucking idea. If you worship Sekhmet and her daughter so much, then listen to what she says and learn to use a name properly.”

“Meritmaat. Overseer of Examinations.” She turned toward me and took three steps in my direction. The smile vanished from her face. “Since you insist that names matter, Alexander May, remember mine.”

“Likewise. Second, I call her Brigid not because I made the name up, but because that’s what she chose for herself. If the only thing you wanted to accomplish here was showing me who’s in charge, you can send me back now. Message received. I don’t give a shit.”

“Good. Now we have been properly introduced, and may dislike one another with the appropriate degree of ceremony. We hope you show the same fighting spirit in service of our new goddess, Alexander—give our sleepers something worth believing in.” She smiled again—faking it for the public. “Keep Sekhmet’s daughter alive. And if you insist upon defying the gods, Alexander at least do it spectacularly. Farewell.”

She flicked one hand dismissively and the lights went out at once, plunging everything into absolute darkness. A massive hand clamped over my mouth, while several others seized my arms and legs. They lifted me kicking and struggling from the floor and hurriedly carried me away somewhere.

Within a few dozen seconds of being captured, gravity reminded me what it was like to hit my face against a cold floor, when the hands carrying me finally stopped their nefarious business. Ignoring the darkness I was still trapped in and the footsteps I could hear moving through it, I quickly dropped into a crouch, reached for my lighter, and stood up, flicking it to life.

Entirely unnecessary, as it turned out, because several other lights came on along with my little spark, revealing a room much like the one I had first appeared in upon arriving in this world, but entirely walled-off. Except this time, I was surrounded by four men dressed in dark, Arab-like clothing, with numerous fabrics and overlapping layers, each of them carrying unfamiliar tools tucked between them.

They wore strange masks that covered their eyes, with rings of some kind of metal fitted around their ears. The concentric circles seemed to vibrate for a few moments after the lights came on, before finally falling completely still. The men then backed toward the only entrance to what was otherwise an empty room.

“You’re not planning on letting me out of here, huh?”

“You must wait,” replied the man with the longest black beard. “Here.” As he spoke the rings vibrated slightly again.

“Were there really no rooms left with a view of anything?” I commented, looking at the completely white walls—there weren’t even any hieroglyphs here. “That’s very inhospitable of you.”

None of the men answered, so I walked over to the wall farthest from them and, leaning against it, slowly lowered myself onto my ass.

Still holding the lighter in one hand, I began playing with it, passing it between my fingers, rolling it over the back of my hand, and making it disappear so neatly into my palm that it became invisible for an untrained eye. Then, with a bit of sleight of hand, I pretended it was still in my right hand even though I had transferred it to my left some time ago. All the while, I watched my guards. They barely moved at all, yet never once took their eyes off me.

At the same time, I reached inward to find out what those available ability upgrades were about.

[Sufficient Essence of Authority accumulated. Branching condition for Cinderhide achieved: Repeatedly enduring temperatures capable of melting flesh down to the bone. Possible development paths:]

[Pyroskin; Classification: Technique, Expression Type: Transformation, Absorption, Authority Requirement: medium to high, Authority Claim: Fire that touches the Inspired may be taken into the body rather than allowed to consume it. Transforms a chosen portion of the body into a heat-absorbing medium capable of drawing in flames and extreme temperatures. Stored heat may later be expelled from the transformed area in a concentrated release. The amount that can be safely contained depends on the Authority committed to the Technique.]

[Cinderbark; Classification: Technique, Expression Type: Transformation, Reinforcement, Regeneration, Authority Requirement: medium to high, Authority Claim: Flesh hardened against fire may rebuild itself through the same principle that protects it. Transforms a chosen portion of the body into a dense, heat-resistant layer resembling charred bark. Damage suffered by the protected area regenerates at an accelerated rate while the Technique remains active, with more severe injuries requiring greater Authority.]

[Cinderthorns; Classification: Technique, Expression Type: Transformation, Reinforcement, Creation, Authority Requirement: medium to high, Authority Claim: Protection against fire may be given a form capable of answering violence with violence. Transforms a chosen portion of the body into heat-resistant armor studded with protrusions of hardened volcanic material. The growths can resist physical impact and injure anything striking or grappling the protected area. Greater coverage, density, and protrusion size require more Authority.]

[Ability upgrade cost: 215 Standardized Essence of Authority Units. Current estimated balance: 221 Standardized Essence of Authority Units.]

All three upgrades seemed interesting and could probably prove useful, but since the base ability served me primarily as a defensive tool, Cinderbark appeared to be the most sensible choice. Still, I had been hoping for the option to upgrade Pyrography, or perhaps even Stoke, first, so I wasn’t particularly eager to immediately spend the Essence I had accumulated on Cinderhide.

On top of that, the conceptually transmitted message from the Oracle was still sitting firmly in my mind: [SPEND THEM FREELY AND NEVER HESITATE!] Which could hardly have encouraged me more strongly to do the exact opposite and hesitate before spending any of it.

In the end, I decided not to upgrade the ability yet. Maybe that made me a coward, but I couldn’t shake the suspicion that this entire system was somehow rigged against me.

As I considered all of this, I heard movement in the corridor behind my silent guards. The echoes of conversation faded, giving way to the slap of bare feet against the floor, until finally the woman I had spoken with earlier entered the room as the guards parted to let her through.

This time, in addition to the same dress she had worn before, she had draped something resembling a translucent coat over herself, the color of clouds. She also carried a dark gray backpack in one hand.

“Leave us,” she told the guards.

Without a word of protest, they filed out of the room one after another.

Once they were gone, the chamber closed for the first time since I had arrived. Not with a door, but with brick-like sections sliding out from the walls. They moved toward one another and interlocked so perfectly that the result was a completely smooth surface, leaving me unable to tell where the passage had been only moments before.

“So what now, princess? More grilling in honor of gods I’ve never even heard of?” I said it with my elbows resting on my knees, and hands still playing with the lighter.

“Would you prefer an audience?” She walked toward the middle of the room, left her backpack there, and then turned her back to me. The sight of her walking toward the wall, her hips swaying with every step, caught my attention more than I would have liked.

“I don’t give a shit. Like I said.”

“Not even whether you live?” She reached the wall, leaned against it, and lowered herself to the floor, mirroring my position and watching my hands.

“What do you think? Of course I fucking care about that—more than anything else in the whole world—” I sighed, catching myself in the mistake in my thinking. “—In every world. There’s nothing I value more.”

“Me neither.” She looked upward, lifting her chin and exposing her neck for several seconds before focusing on me again.

“You’d think the gods would be somewhere near the top of your list.” I replied while looking down, only to quickly raise my head again, drawing her gaze to the movement. At the same time, I let the lighter fall from one hand and caught it with the other.

“On my Earth, Pharaohs and High Priests rule because people believe the gods stand behind them.” She shrugged. “My work is making sure belief survives contact with reality. The Event has made that considerably more difficult.”

“You’re not a believer?” I kept playing with my fingers, weaving them over and around one another, opening first one hand and then the other, even though the lighter had long since disappeared into the pocket of my sweatshirt.

The distraction those movements created in others had a soothing and calming effect on me. It let me believe that, at the very least, I still held some small measure of control in my own hands.

“I believe in things I can make happen myself.”

“Interesting attitude for someone who uses slaves to wash her guests. But it suits you perfectly. Is the color of your dress called hypocrisy?”

“Among other things.” To my surprise, she didn’t protest. She didn’t even laugh.

“What else do you want from me? There’s nothing here for me. Send me back.”

“Are you in a hurry?”

“Are you recording this conversation? Now that we’re no longer under close observation, you’ve moved on to the real interrogation?”

“Of course. I might yet find the true gold in our conversation, by divine providence.” Her lips curled into a smile that made me wonder what she'd already decided to do with me.

“At least you’re honest in your deception.”

“Only when dishonesty offers no advantage,” she answered tilting her head. “For centuries, we’ve wrapped crocodileshit as revelation and called the result stability. People wanted gods. Pharaohs wanted obedience. Priests wanted authority. Everyone received something useful.” She glanced upward. “Then the Dream Stream Spheres appeared and introduced people to gods who can actually answer.”

“Then why did you portray me as an enemy?”

“Because heroes are boring until someone gives the audience permission to doubt them. Our early numbers are already clear. People find you because of Brigid. They stay because every time you face adversity, you bare your teeth. Sekhmet is fire and healing. Brigid is a living flame who wants to heal people. She joins the mythology our people already understand to the reality they’re only beginning to accept.”

“I don’t want to be a hero.”

“Hero?” She smiled and this time her eyes followed suit. “No. That’s a wrong role. “They want an antihero, Alexander. A man they can forgive themselves for admiring. A thief. A commoner. An artist who spits at authority. Someone who was not born beneath Ra’s favor and nevertheless insists upon shining.”

“Fuck them. I don’t care.”

“You arrived in rags with a handful of tools and survived anyway. Was that carelessness, confidence, or performance?”

“How was I supposed to know I’d be chosen?”

My question made her eyes widen.

“Your Oruun didn’t warn you? Our Pharaohs received the warnings long in advance, and we spent a long time preparing our representatives.”

“You knew about this beforehand?”

“For decades. The Pharaohs were warned, candidates were identified, Authority was measured, and preparations began long before the spheres appeared.” She studied me again. “You had none of that?”

“If anyone on my Earth knew, it certainly wasn’t officially disclosed to the public. All we had were conspiracy theories about aliens abducting people and experimenting on them, and later theories about what those spheres hanging in the sky were. Most people didn’t care about either.”

“Interesting,” she drawled, while looking at the backpack in the middle of the room. “We’re nearly out of time. The bag is yours. Waterskin. Stringpen. Nothing officially classified as a weapon. The rules were annoyingly specific.”

“You gave me clothes and shoes. The backpack could be a weapon too, not to mention the waterskin.”

“Nothing the rules recognize as a weapon.” She glanced at my hands. “I’ve dreamed enough of you to know that distinction won’t inconvenience you.”

“What’s a stringpen? I instinctively know the context for this word and thus understand that it’s nothing I know from my home.”

“You don’t have those on your Earth?”

I shook my head.

“A painter’s instrument. Pluck the strings to choose color. Strike the soundboard to control the spray.” She smiled faintly. “The rest, artist, you can figure out yourself.”

“Thanks,” I replied, standing and walking over to the backpack. I grabbed it, slung it over my shoulders, and crouched down where it had been lying moments before. “What’s your goal in all of this?”

“Survival.” She said it without hesitation. “If the Chosen fail, I die with everyone else. Gods, Pharaohs, priests, commoners—it becomes a remarkably Greek outcome. So I intend to use every advantage available to keep Earth alive.” Her eyes settled on me. “Including you.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to stay alive. You can be certain of that.” I pushed myself to my feet and looked down at her. “It didn’t escape my notice that you said you dreamed about me,” I added with a roguish smile. “I could give you something to daydream about instead.”

“There are no private dreams anymore, Alexander.” Her smile returned. “Not since the spheres.”

“If we still have a little time, I could give you something to daydream about instead.” All I got in response was an indulgent smile and a moment later, I found myself back in the cave I had been taken from. “Fucking aliens,” I muttered to myself.