Chapter 1: Inner Sanctum

Merit made his way down the stone steps, the walls of the sacred lake slowly rising as he descended. The artificial basin was dug into the temple grounds, its reservoir so crystal-clear that he could see straight to its bottom, reaching twice as deep as a man was tall in places.

The temple’s myriad structures surrounded him on all sides, its high walls cloistering the sprawling complex from the landscape beyond, its vast stone edifices and towering obelisks reaching up toward a sky of deep azure. Many of the obelisks were capped with precious metals or white marble, gleaming in the light of the rising sun like beacons.

Rare was it to come across a surface not decorated with beautiful murals and inscriptions. The pale sandstone pillars and walls were covered from top to bottom in colorful geometric adornments of red, green, and blue. Giant scenes representing Gods, Pharaohs, and men played out along the facades of every building. Tall flagpoles rose into the air, their streamers waving in the breeze along with the fronds of the palm trees that lined the walkways below them.

Towering above it all was the great pyramid of Horus, dominating the horizon in spite of its considerable distance, so large that the atmospheric haze gave its pristine white stone a hint of blue. It seemed more like a mountain than a building, its scale defying mortal comprehension. Great painted eyes watched over the realm, symbols of order and divine protection. Above them, on what could be described as the forehead, was a painted ankh larger than any of the obelisks that surrounded him – a symbol of divine power. At the pyramid’s peak was a cap of white marble streaked with veins of black – a single piece of stone the size of a building in its own right. The rising sun was catching one of the pyramid’s four faces, making it gleam, its geometry without flaw. No matter where one was in Egypt, the eyes of Horus would always be watching.

Merit waded into the crystal-clear water, feeling the cool stone beneath his feet, the lake providing some reprieve from the already oppressive heat. The reservoir was fed from the river, and the river was sacred. It was the provider of all things, irrigating the fields and birthing flourishing greenery that overflowed from its fertile banks. These sacred lakes represented Nun, the primeval waters of creation from which all life had sprung.

He walked deeper, sinking up to his waist and beginning to lather himself with soap. It was made from fat derived from olive oil and salts, cleansing his body and washing the morning’s sweat from his skin.

Once he was clean, he returned to the steps, where he had set down a small bag woven from papyrus reeds. He produced a mirror fashioned from reflective bronze with a handle, along with a copper knife, its edge wickedly sharp. He wielded the blade with one hand and held up the mirror with the other, seeing his faded reflection. Diligently, and with practiced care, he began to cut away the stubble that had grown on his face overnight. Only when his cheeks were as smooth as the mirror’s polished surface did he move to his head, scraping the blade across his scalp to remove every errant hair. The rest of his body followed – even the fine, almost invisible hairs on his arms, until the ritual was complete.

Bathing and shaving were not a simple matter of cleanliness, though that was also important. As a priest, Merit could not enter the presence of the Gods before his body had been purified and its every imperfection removed.

As he left the water, he wrapped a clean linen skirt about his waist, letting the heat dry him as he began his walk. The stone path was lined with rows of towering pillars, each one inscribed with hieroglyphs, leading him through the grounds in the direction of one of the larger structures.

On his way, he passed by gardens, their carefully tended plants cultivated in neat rows. There were patches of vibrant purple mandrakes with their star-shaped petals, along with anemones and cornflowers in shades of red, pink, white, and blue. Pomegranate trees with their red blossoms, and fruit-bearing persea trees sacred to the God Ra, towered over them. Merit could smell the fragrance of jasmine as he went, its scent carried on the breeze. Shu had surely blessed him this day.

A few laborers were tending to the plants, pruning and watering them, ensuring that not a leaf was out of place. These lavish temple grounds were not here for the enjoyment of people of their station, or even of Merit’s, but rather for the Gods who were deserving of all the worldly luxuries mortal men could offer them.

Passing between rows of great sphinx statues carved from blocks of granite, he made his way to a giant gate, its doorway large enough that ten men could have passed over its threshold walking shoulder to shoulder. Inscribed at the gate’s apex was a colorful symbol that spanned its width – a golden sun disk flanked by a pair of vibrant wings, their feathers painted orange and turquoise. The gold-plated doors were already open, and he stepped through, finding himself in a courtyard paved with slabs of stone.

The sheer scale of everything always made him feel small and insignificant, a constant reminder of his place beneath the Gods. Rows of pillars taller and stouter than any tree trunk held aloft a flat roof that ringed the limits of the square courtyard, providing shade, and at its center was another artificial pool. This one was smaller than the sacred lake, and its bounds were far more organic, its crystal waters partially hidden by the abundance of plant life that sprouted up around it. Like the gardens, it was surrounded by colorful, fragrant flowers and shrubs. Fruit-bearing trees and leaning palms cast their shadows, while purple lilies floated upon its shimmering surface, the waters of Nun granting life even here.

Small in temple terms was still large in mortal terms, and he navigated around the bounds of the oasis, taking a couple of minutes to reach its far side. It was still early, and the day’s worshipers had yet to arrive, so there were only a few other priests present. Everyone had their duties to attend to, and he was no different. Each citizen was born into their role. Some were masons or fishermen, others farmers or laborers, traders or soldiers. Merit’s parents had been priests, and so he, too, served the Gods.

At the far end of the courtyard was another doorway, this one a little less grandiose than the main entrance, but still far larger than any mortal could have use for. The doors were already open, the clay seal that was replaced each night broken. His footsteps echoed as he entered a cavernous hall, its ceiling so high that it faded into shadow, held up by more rows of pillars. Here, the floor was a regal red marble, pleasantly cool in the absence of direct sunlight. High on the walls were small windows positioned to let in light only at certain times of the day, providing enough illumination to see by, while bronze oil lamps flickered in the darker recesses.

The walls here were no less ornate than the ones outside, decorated with colorful murals and carvings in honor of the Gods. Statues of the deities in burnished gold lined its base, surrounding him on all sides, each one larger than life. Before every one was a brazier that was kept burning at all hours, the licking flames reflecting off the shining metal, giving them an ethereal quality. There were all of the major deities – Ra, Osiris, Isis, Horus, Amun, Anubis.

Most of his fellow priests were already attending to their daily duties, cleaning the temple and sweeping the dust from its floors. Even as they walked, they swept the floor behind them, unwilling to leave even a solitary footprint on the marble. Others were bathing the towering statues, polishing the gold, and clothing them in billowing shawls of fresh linen. Everyone looked so uniform with their heads shaved clean, wearing their schenti – the sacred linen skirts.

Some of them were offering food to the statues, placing freshly baked bread and fruits ripe from the branch in woven baskets at their feet, honoring and appeasing them. Ma’at – the cosmic balance – must be maintained at all times through ritual and ceremony.

Merit fetched a broom and began to sweep, pausing briefly to glance at the largest statue in the room. All of the major Gods were honored in this grand atrium, but this particular temple was dedicated to the Goddess Anput – consort of Anubis. Her golden statue sat upon a giant throne, enclosed within a square structure that was itself a kind of small building, flanked by two great pillars of white marble. It was twice the size of its counterparts, the shrine before it far larger, fragrant bowls of incense burning upon the flat table beneath its plinth.

Like Anubis before her, Anput had the body of a woman, but the head of a jackal. Her ears were tall and pointed, and her snout was long and slender, ending in a canine nose. Depicted in gleaming gold, he could make out no color, but the adornments and jewelry that she wore had been reproduced in immaculate detail. A pair of priests were already at work cleaning it, having to raise themselves on wooden platforms that were assembled and disassembled each and every morning.

After some minutes had passed, Merit lifted his gaze from the floor, seeing the high priest approaching. His linen robes were finer than those of the Hem-Netjer – the lowlier servants of the Gods, and the older man wore a sash made from spotted cheetah hide. In one hand, he carried a staff adorned with a golden ankh, serving as a symbol of his office.

Merit stopped what he was doing and bowed his head low as his superior approached.

“High Priest of Anput,” he began, addressing him by his title as protocol dictated. “How may I serve you?”

“Meritamun,” the high priest began, using his full name. There was a friendly smile on his face, and he seemed pleased. “The morning ceremony will soon be complete. The Gods will wake, and the ritual ablutions will come to an end. You have been diligent in your duties as of late.”

“You honor me, High Priest,” Merit replied as he kept his gaze low.

“Such hard work and careful study deserves reward, would you not agree?”

“My purpose is simply to serve the Gods in whatever way they require,” Merit replied.

“A suitably humble response,” the high priest chuckled. “Today, I wish for you to bring the offerings before Anput. It is time that you were initiated.”

“Forgive my impertinence, High Priest,” Merit began with a glance at the shrine at the foot of the great statue. It was already being piled high with baskets of food and sacrificial offerings by the other priests. The ritual was carried out each morning, and once the Gods had symbolically eaten their fill, the priests would take what remained as their breakfast. “It appears that the offerings have already been given.”

“I speak not of the shrine.”

In his surprise, Merit met the high priest’s gaze, his eyes wide. He turned them to another door on the far right side of the temple. It led deeper into the complex – a place where even the Hem-Netjer were not permitted to venture freely.

“High Priest...”

“Yes, yes,” the high priest sighed. “I honor you, I know.” He gave the younger man a tap with his staff, prompting him to stand up straight, then began to circle around him. “You have cleansed yourself this morning, yes?”

“Yes, High Priest.”

“Arms up,” he added, giving Merit another tap with his staff. He was checking for hairs and imperfections, ensuring that nothing was out of place. “Mouth open,” he continued once he had completed his circle, glancing inside. “Your linens are fresh?”

“I have carefully followed the purification rituals, High Priest.”

“So you have,” he muttered, pausing to consider for a moment. “Very well, young Hem-Netjer. You shall carry that large basket over there into the Goddess’ chambers,” he began, gesturing to it with his staff. “She usually wakes at first light, and she will be hungry. Touch nothing. Do not speak unless she asks a question of you. Keep your eyes on the floor and observe the proper rites.”

A blend of fear and excitement washed over Merit, but he dared not show it, struggling to maintain his composure in front of the high priest. This was an honor beyond anything that he had expected to receive. To serve the Gods was a great privilege, but to stand in their presence was something even greater.

“Go on, then,” the high priest prompted. “Don’t leave her waiting.”

Merit nodded, then hurried over to the table of offerings, where a large basket made from woven reeds waited. It was piled high with bread and fruit, wide enough that he had to spread his arms somewhat to carry it. It was heavy, and it made him wonder how large Anput might truly be. He had seen statues of her, but how representative they were of her actual size, he had no idea.

He had been born into temple service, and he spent the majority of his time within its walls, but he had never seen a God in person. Few mortals had. Only the high priests of their respective deities, along with the Pharaohs and other members of the aristocracy, ever had regular access to them. The common folk might see a God make an appearance at important ceremonies, such as the crowning of a new ruler, but those were few and far between. It could take decades before someone like Horus or Osiris made a public appearance. Even when they traveled by boat or palanquin, they were hidden from view, moving from temple to temple using dedicated docks and roads.

The lesser deities – not that he would ever dare refer to them that way – were less cloistered. They were the sons and daughters of Gods, the consorts and spouses, and the more minor powers. They still had their temples and their private grounds, but Egyptian society was stratified, and that was no less true here. The gardeners and laborers would be gone before Anput took a walk through her garden or came to her oasis to bathe. None but the purest and most faithful were permitted to look upon her.

If Merit had been chosen for this task, then it meant that the high priest viewed him as worthy. It might even signify that he was in the running to become the high priest’s successor one day. That was, if he performed well. Failing to observe protocol or unintentionally offending Anput could result in far more dire consequences than remaining a Hem-Netjer forever...

With the giant basket in his hands, he made his way across the atrium, a few of his counterparts watching in a mix of awe and jealousy as he approached the great doors. Just like those that led into the atrium, they were far taller and wider than any mortal would have need for, made of wood plated with ornate gold. This one depicted a winged scarab. The clay seal that held the two doors together was still intact, and he set the basket down, reaching out to it. With a crack, the seal came away, allowing him to unwind the rope beneath. That scarab split down the middle as the doors swung open, and he hefted the basket once more, hesitating for a moment before walking inside. Almost as if they had a life of their own, the doors gently swung closed behind him, sealing him in.