Trusted Bond

I
    said, pointing at another relief. ―So one day one of them shifted and
    became the first werepanther.‖
    ―Who was it?‖
    I pointed at a statue across the room. ―That is Sened, one of the
    rulers during the Second Dynasty, and he took for his wife‖—I pointed to
    the statue to the left—―Nashwa, who was, supposedly, the first of us who
    could shift.‖
    She walked over and looked at up at the sandstone statue. ―She‘s
    really pretty.‖
    ―No man could resist her,‖ I said with a wink. ―Certainly not Sened,
    who built her a great mortuary temple when she died.‖
    ―What‘s a mortuary temple?‖
    ―It‘s like a huge mausoleum, kind of.‖
    She looked confused.
    ―Like a crypt.‖
    Now she looked worried.
    ―It‘s not creepy,‖ I assured her.
    She didn‘t look convinced. ―So Nashwa was the first real
    werepanther?‖
    There would obviously be no more talk of mortuary temples. ―Yes.‖
    ―How come she could shift?‖
    ―I dunno, maybe she was a mutant.‖
    ―Like Wolverine?‖
    ―No, Nashwa was more like Mystique or one of them that can turn
    into an animal.‖ I had to use examples she could understand.
    ―Come look at this.‖
    I let her tug me after her across the room to another statue. We were
    apparently done with caring about Nashwa.
    ―Who‘s that?‖ She pointed up at a statue of a man that everyone
    knew.
    ―Osiris,‖ I answered her.
    ―Why is he in the museum? What‘d he do?‖
    Trusted Bond

    137

    ―Lots of stuff.‖ I pointed through the glass at his hands. ―But for
    you, he‘s mostly important because of the tribal system he created.‖
    ―You lost me,‖ she deadpanned.
    I let out a snort of laughter; really, her grandmother had to be just as
    sarcastic as mine was. This one was something else. ―Okay, do you see
    what he‘s holding?‖
    ―Yeah.‖
    ―What?‖
    ―A big hook and a pom-pom.‖
    I smiled at her. ―It‘s not a pom-pom, it‘s a flail, which is like a whip.
    And the hook is actually called a crook. Osiris is like a semel, all
    powerful, all knowing, and those two items were what he always carried
    and what he used when he ruled. Those things reminded him to always
    make the right choices for his people.‖
    She looked skeptical.
    ―See those things in his hands, the crook and the flail, they were like
    his advisors, so if you think of it like that, what do you think we call
    them?‖
    ―I dunno.‖
    ―Think now,‖ I told her, kneeling down in front of her so we were
    eye to eye. ―What does a sheseru do? What does Roshan, your Daddy‘s
    sheseru, do?‖
    ―He hurts you if you‘re bad.‖
    ―Sort of, but yeah, he‘s an enforcer, right? So of those two things
    that Osiris has in his hands, which one would he be?‖
    She tilted her head, looking up at Osiris.
    ―What‘s a whip for, or a flail?‖
    ―To hit you when you‘re—oh!‖ she cried out, squeezing my hand
    tight. ―Roshan is like the flail.‖
    ―That‘s right, the flail. And the other thing, the crook, who would
    that be?‖
    ―The sylvan?‖
    ―That‘s right, because the crook is what a shepherd uses when he
    gathers his flock of sheep to keep them safe and teach them.‖
    ―So the crook is for teaching stuff and the flail is for hurting you
    when you‘re bad.‖
    It was as close as we were going to get. ―Yes.‖
    138

    Mary Calmes

    ―Just like a sylvan and a sheseru.‖
    ―You got it.‖
    Her big eyes glittered, and I knew it was because she had not only
    learned something but she understood it as well. When things made sense,
    I myself usually retained them more easily. ―Who‘s that?‖ she asked,
    pointing at another statue.
    For hours, she pointed and I gave her a history lesson: Hatshepsut, a
    female pharaoh; Ramses, whom she knew because he and Moses used to
    be brothers; and Akhenaten, the heretic. She wanted to hear about them
    all.
    At lunchtime, she and I sat under an acacia tree in the garden and
    had our lunch. When her mother walked over and sat down, Femi
    explained all the new information she had absorbed like a sponge. After a
    good half hour, her mother turned to look at me.
    ―It seems you have a vast storehouse of knowledge, reah. I
    appreciate you bestowing that gift on my child. She is behind culturally, as
    my husband‘s mother indulged her continuously. Only this year were my
    wishes complied with and she was returned home to us here in Sobek. She
    needs to catch up before school begins in a few weeks.‖
    ―She‘s