no dreams are silly, khaemwaset declared in a friendly way, slowing to adjust mekh at his side in a more aligned fashion. they would travel shoulder to shoulder for this patrol, he decided.
satriya is a place of holiness. a great priest was the one to instruct myself and merneith in all manner of history and godly repetition. this place is not only a sign of our lineage's power, but an offering to the holy ones who entrusted to us this land.
to be a priest, then, was to be given this great task as well.
legs of gleaming black marble carried him new and again. Horus moved toward the wall of the pyramid, touching it lightly with one paw to feel how the heat of the sun was still held by the stone.
how beautiful this moment! he thought of himself and merneith sitting below the impressions of their grandfather rameses and his queen, how Ma'at had lifted Her head for him then, and always since.
in this light, how could he then not attach himself to all their messages?
he began life as a we'eb priest and worked his way up into the role of hereditary prince. do you have such aspirations, mekh?
it pleased him to know that the man was fitted so well for satriya, and the fact that mekh held also the regard of merneith did a great deal to assure khaemwaset that they had chosen well.
we must all be in service to the gods, especially in satriya. a long blink of the golden eyes. warriors too can be pious as any holy man or priestess, came the musing. so. tell me your dreams, and it was a light order from Horus.
glancing up the high stone walls of the pyramid, which stretched up in tapering point until he could not see it, he wondered if mekh had too been birthed into the same rich dark earth of toil that had given senmut to their dynasty. was it foolish to still seek him? childish, maybe -- was it still forgivable?
on and on, these thoughts in his mind. proverbial uraeus had been made for his brow, and his brow for its weight, and still from time to time that unseen crown forced a deep aching into khaemwaset's mortal neck, so that he rose with shoulders hurting and brow strained by pain.
satriya should be filled with priests, he declared, looking at the glow cast down by the redness.
silence then, save for the sound of their walking, one gleaming ear turned toward mekh for his voice.
a future of glory might well be assured for this unassuming man with expressive eyes.