Crucible of Fate

waggled his eyebrows.
     
     
    J IN had killed the priest on a Monday; it had taken me the night and all the next day to recover from my injuries. Kabore was still worried, but our physician, Thema Pakhom, said she would let me travel only if I did nothing to exert myself.
    “You must be careful, Domin. You haven’t healed fully yet, and none of us want to lose you to something as banal as internal bleeding.”
    I had watched her eyes soften like they did whenever I was around. Apparently more people in my home liked me than I was aware of. So even though I was still weak, we left late Wednesday night to drive ten hours, planning to arrive in Ipis the following morning.
    “You’re still sore?” Jin was checking as we sat in the back of the monstrous black Hummer.
    “The rest of us do not all heal as fast as you, nekhene cat,” I grumbled.
    “Or as fast as the semel-netjer, apparently.”
    I growled at him, and he laughed, which was such a nice sound I let my irritation go and used his shoulder for a pillow.
    “Sit by me,” Koren offered, but Jin’s fingers threading though my hair felt too good to move away from. And Yuri would not mind me showing up smelling like Jin.
    We took twelve men with us, since Taj, with his sixty, was already there. We had heard from him, but the news was odd. He had been allowed into the city of Ipis, but not into the home of the semel. Without me there, they did not have to, by law, grant him entrance, and so they did not.
    He had seen Yuri behind a gate and reported him in good health, though he had seen bruises on his face and his left arm was bandaged from wrist to bicep. But the smirk had been his. When Taj had yelled that I was on my way, he had brightened. I wanted Taj to put Yuri on the phone, but he was not allowed to. It was a mistake, the one this semel was making, keeping me from my mate, and he would know that soon enough.
     
     
    “I S THAT grass?”
    “Yes,” Kabore responded, yawning as we arrived at ten the following morning. “Ipis sits over an underground lake; the whole area is lush with plant life.”
    It was stunning. Sobek was dry, almost everywhere I’d been in Egypt was, but this was gorgeous and brought the classic image of an oasis to mind. When we reached the town itself, we parked close to an outdoor café and got out, my khatyu filing out silently behind me. Instantly there was a contingent of men there to greet us, and I wasn’t surprised. They had to have seen us coming for hours; there was only one two-lane road there and back from Sobek. I had spoken to Taj, and he had asked if I wanted him to leave his position outside the semel’s home to come greet us. I ordered him to stay; I would be there soon enough.
    “Sah’eed nahharkoo.”
    A man stood in front of twenty men, even though every second more and more people gathered behind them in the square.
    I couldn’t speak the language, and I wasn’t in the mood to try and stumble through it. “I am the semel-aten, Domin Thorne. I need to speak to Hakkan Tarek, the semel of the tribe of Feran.”
    Everyone went to their knees.
    “Who is Hakkan Tarek?” I demanded of the crowd.
    No one said a word.
    Jin cleared his throat behind me.
    “What?” I asked, glaring over my shoulder at him.
    He mouthed words.
    “What?”
    “Give them permission to speak,” Kabore muttered out of the side of his mouth.
    “Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Please, everyone rise, and someone please tell me where I might find the semel.”
    They all rose quickly, and I tried not to scowl. 
    “My lord.” The man who had first spoken to me stepped closer. “I am Hanif Tarek, son of the semel, Hakkan Tarek. Welcome to Ipis.”
    “Thank you. I need to speak to your semel at once.”
    “Of course, he is at the fort, my lord. I will take you to him.”
    “The fort?”
    “Our home, my lord.”
    “All right.”
    “I’m sure he will be very pleased that you have come to mediate, my lord, and find a resolution for the newest of our many issues.”
    I frowned. “Did my sekhem not inform you of the reason for first his visit and then mine?”
    “He did, my lord, but my father will not hear that concern, but only that of the catacombs at Abtu.”
    I was confused. He had to be at least twenty-one, what the hell was going on? Why wasn’t he the semel? Why had his father not stepped aside and begun mentoring his son?
    “Why are you not the semel, Hanif Tarek?”
    He cleared his throat. “My father’s