Chapter Three: A Mystery

 

~/*\~Julian~/*\~

“If I make senior partner, we’ll have a place just like this.” Julian murmured to his wife as they stepped off the elevator.

She smiled at the thought, and looked around the penthouse. High ceilings, polished floors. There was soft music playing, and a cheery fireplace. The room was full of people, all dressed to the nines. There was a small group of waiters, carrying trays of appetizers and flutes of champagne. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself in a place this size.” Martine admitted quietly. “But I imagine that’s the sort of problem people can get used to.”

“I’d say so.” Julian chuckled, snagging a flute of champagne for himself from one passing waiter, and then another for her from another. “Shall we mingle?”

“I don’t want to embarrass myself, or you.” Martine admitted, nervous around the wealthy people. “I wouldn’t know what to say to people like this.”

“Nobody ever does.” A familiar voice said warmly. “Not the first time, anyway. The trick is to let them talk, and know when to nod your head. Wealthy people are not unlike children that way.”

They both turned. “Father Fitzpatrick!” Martine reacted. “Oh, excuse me: Bishop Fitzpatrick.”

Fitzpatrick chuckled. “It’s good to see you both again.” He said, and glanced at Julian. “You always wanted to be in these rooms.”

“I did.” Julian admitted. “Though I admit, I’m not sure where to start.”

Fitzpatrick glanced at Martine. “Probably best if you stick together for a while. “I’ll introduce you around.” He gestured over to the other side of the room. “The Cardinal was asked to advise the Mayor on a few matters. I won’t be needed for an hour or two.”

~/*\~

Fitzpatrick showed them around the room, introduced them to a few people. After a while, it was just the three of them again, though Martine and Julian noticed that Gia was at the party by herself.

“I remember when you were performing Mass at St Mark’s.” Martine commented after a while. “I have to admit, you seemed more content there than you do here.”

“The Paradox of authority is that good leaders are humble, but humble people don’t seek leadership.” Fitzpatrick demurred. “Leadership is meant to be a service, but the trappings of authority make it easy to feel like others should serve you.”

“True enough. That’s why I like the Bible stories about people God appoints.” Martine commented. “The Kings that men appointed usually went off the rails, at least biblically. God tends to pick better. Moses was a shepherd when he was tapped. So was David. When Jesus wanted followers, he ignored the wise men and went to fishermen; preached to lepers.”

Fitzpatrick smiled, impressed. “Quite right.” He lowered his voice. “The part that you’re diplomatically leaving out? Jesus would never show up at a party like this, would he?”

“I wasn’t going to say it.” Martine smiled.

Julian caught the way Fitzpatrick glanced at him. He’s wondering if I coached my wife with some Bible trivia to impress the clergyman. He thought. And I didn’t. This is that study of hers. It just paid off.

The Bishop looked to Julian. “I haven’t actually seen you at one of these parties before. You’re moving up in the world.”

“Well, isn’t that what everyone wants? To improve their lives, raise the standard of living… leave a stronger legacy than the one you were born with?” Julian said reasonably.

Fitzpatrick turned to Martine. “You agree?”

“I want what’s best for my family, of course.” Martine said honestly. “But I will admit, I’ve never swum in waters like these.”

Fitzpatrick chuckled. “There’s a fundraising committee I manage. It handles events for Church projects. Schools, homeless shelters. They’re mostly wives of some of the men in this room. It’s a way to help the Church help the community. It would be a good place to meet some of the people you’d be in contact with, should you become a regular at these parties. A less… formal atmosphere, with an important task to keep everyone united?”

It was an olive branch. It was a way for Martine to build relationships of her own at this level. Julian heard the offer and wanted to do a dance. The Bishop was helping Martine become comfortable with this crowd.

“That’s a very kind offer, sir; but I’m afraid I must decline.” Martine said gently. “I’m afraid I’ve made commitments to… other religions. Ones that wouldn’t be compatible with Church fundraisers.”

Julian had been trained to keep his face even in Court. No matter what the opposition pulled out, he had to play it cool and certain. But inside, he wanted the world to open up and swallow him whole.

Fitzpatrick took it graciously, but Julian knew he was sunk. A moment later, the Bishop had to step away and take a phone call.

Julian was trying to figure out how he could fix the problem and get his wife back on his side, when Gia slid over next to them. “You’re the first person to say ‘no’ to the Bishop all night.” She quipped to Martine. “He’s been trying to get people for that fundraiser for a week. Apparently, he’s a few short in his Churches. Attendance is down over last year.”

“He asked you?” Martine guessed.

“He probably would have, except I’m not Catholic.” Gia excused.

“...um. Neither am I. Not anymore.” Martine admitted, eyes flicking nervously at Julian.

Julian was stunned. “When did this happen?”

“Oops. Time for me to pretend I’m not here.” Gia started backing away, when her eyes noticed something across the room. “Julian? Is that Serrano?”

Julian looked over at the other side of the room. “Yeah. With Cardinal Pena. I’ve been trying to have a word with him all night, but he keeps slipping out to take phone calls with someone…”

As they were watching, another man came over and joined them.

Martine noticed that her husband and Gia had suddenly gone silent. “Who is that man?”

“The District Attorney.” Julian said absently. “Stop staring.”

Gia swiftly turned her back on the three men, and made sure she was making eye contact with Martine, though none of them were looking anywhere else. Across the room, the three men were having a pointed conversation; before they all filed into the next room, walking casually.

“What’s going on that the District Attorney, his Chief Prosecutor, and a Cardinal are all taking urgent phone calls together at a cocktail party?” Gia asked. “Whatever it is, it apparently can’t wait until business hours.”

“I haven’t heard about anything.” Julian admitted. “I’ll check the wires tonight, just to make sure.” He glanced around. “And maybe I’ll talk to Fitzpatrick. He had to take a call too, so he might know something. Assuming he’s still speaking to me, of course.”

Martine twitched at the subtle dig. Julian moved off, and Gia forced a smile. “Keep talking to me for a few minutes?” She asked. “I’m the only woman here who’s not married, or on the arm of someone with money. It’s worse than Thanksgiving with my grandmother.”

Martine chuckled, relaxing a little.

Gia noticed. “Six years I’ve worked with Julian, he’s never taken a stand on Religion. A lawyer has to be flexible on most things, so they don’t usually tie themselves to anything so controversial. At least not at our level. Senior partners can afford to have pet causes. His interest is a… recent development.”

Martine’s head tilted. “And you, Gia? What do you believe in?”

Gia blinked. “Huh. I don’t… It’s a question I never really think about. Not in words.”

“Neither did I. Then one day I did, and things changed. Amazing how fast you can change when you actually have to think about your life.” Martine nodded, when Gia’s beeper went off. “You have to go?” At her nod, Martine stepped back. “We should meet for coffee tomorrow. I’d like to talk more about this.”

~/*\~

Later that night, Julian was on the internet, searching the news feeds for anything of interest. If there was something high profile in the pipeline, I’d surely hear it talked about. The Firm has as much workplace gossip as anywhere else, even if we’re bound by law not to talk about it outside our own…

“Dad!” His eldest shouted from the next room. “Get off the line! I gotta make a call!”

“I put a second phone line in for the Internet.” Julian shouted back. “You can make the call when your brother gets off the phone in the kitchen!”

Martine brought him a cup of coffee, setting it carefully beside him on the desk. “I know you’re busy.” She said quietly. “But I’d rather not go to bed until we aired it all out.”

Julian hid behind a sip of coffee, before he sighed and pushed the keyboard away. “I’ve been trying to court the Church as a client for over a year now. Being invited to that party was my ‘big break’.” He gave her a hard look. “It was the worst possible moment to find out you weren’t on the same page.”

“I know. I should have told you weeks ago.” Martine admitted. “I’m very sorry for that. And, of course, for embarrassing you tonight. But I’m not sorry for leaving the Church, Julian. I just… I can’t be Catholic anymore. I don’t agree with their teachings, I don’t agree with their rituals; and-”

“A lot of Catholics don’t agree with the teachings, dear.” Julian pointed out. “More than half of Catholics are pro-Choice, a surprising percentage have no problem with Gay Marriage… Technically, we’re breaking with tradition every time we use birth control. It’s a big Church, and there’s room for everyone. It doesn’t matter if you study with the-”

“That’s the point.” Martine countered. “It should matter.” She wrung her hands a little. “I’ve spoken with people at St Mark’s. There are people there who are looking for a new Church because the new guy doesn’t teach the same things as Father Fitzpatrick did. They’re looking for a Priest that they agree with already.” She spread her hands wide. “I’m looking for the Truth.”

“The Church has been around for two thousand years, hon. There’s enough truth there for everyone.” Julian told her.

“You remember what we talked about the last time we had this conversation?” She pushed. “About how you don’t talk about God when you talk about the Church? Well… I want to. I want to know what God really thinks about things. I want to know that God is proud of me.” She gestured at her new Bible. “Until I started studying with the Witnesses, I didn’t even know He had a name.” She wiped a gathering tear away. “Julian, I love you. But I want to understand things. About God. About the universe. About life and what happens after, and… And we don’t talk about those things in our-” She caught herself. “-in your Church.”

He stared at her. This was a conversation they’d never had. Never even approached. “Martine, I’m a ninth generation Catholic. The Church funded passage for my great-great-grandmother to come to the States in the first place. My relationship with the church is fast becoming my livelihood, and-”

“And after sixteen years of marriage, I don’t know if you really believe in God.” Martine put in.

That caught him off guard. She was right. He’d never really talked about the Sermons or the Scriptures. Not at home. They went on Sunday, and then they came home; and never did the two worlds overlap.

“If we disagreed about belief, I’d respect it, and agree to disagree; but your fear is that I might mess up your chance at promotion.” Martine pressed. “Shouldn’t God be above things like work, or money? God is supposed to be everywhere. Why do we pretend He lives in the Church?”

“God is supposed to be everywhere.” He returned. “And He’s supposed to love all of us. Does it matter where we spend our Sunday mornings?”

“It does to me.” She declared seriously.

Julian let out a hard breath slowly, and opened his arms. She moved closer and hugged him. The fight was over, but they weren’t united. She knew he wasn’t coming with her.

~/*\~

“So, how bad is it?” Gia asked.

“Could have gone worse, but I wouldn’t say it’s all okay.” Martine admitted. “I know it puts you in an awkward spot, since he’s technically your superior… If you want to change the subject completely, I would understand.”

“You know something? I’ve never met someone who’s converted before.” Gia quipped. “I’ve met people who were lapsed, people who were involved… I’ve never met someone who changed their mind about religion. Not that I know of, anyway. It just never comes up.”

“It’s a distinction I never would have made last year.” Martine agreed. “Almost everyone I know stayed with whatever Church their parents did. Those that didn’t agree, or more often didn’t care? They just… stopped going. Slept in on Sunday.”

“It’s natural to take the easy road. You tick a box on a form once in a while, you don’t really think about it the rest of the time…” Gia blushed. “My mother was Presbyterian. I figured I was too. One Church was like any other. I haven’t been to one since my cousin’s wedding five years ago. Before that, not since Grandpa’s funeral.”

Martine nodded. “I was raised a Catholic. I never asked anyone what that meant, why that was ‘right’ or ‘holy’. Then one day, someone knocked on my door.”

“Jehovah’s Witnesses have knocked on my door, too. I’ve never really spoken with them.”

“Most of the time, neither did I. But then this fourteen year old girl at my door asked me what I believed in. I told her I was Catholic, and she asked me what that meant. What I actually thought. What I actually believed in.” She almost laughed. “And I didn’t know how to answer. Nobody in the Church had ever asked me that question.”

Gia took that in, unsettled. “When you asked me last night, neither did I. I’m a lawyer. I’m supposed to have answers prepared for every possible question that someone can throw at me. But after thinking about it half the night, I don’t have an answer either.” She looked down. “Y’know, I never made time for things like God, but I always intended to, one day.”

“One day.” Martine nodded. “For me, that day was months ago. At first, it was just learning, just thinking, studying up a little. I had two useless teenagers to organize, so I always had something else taking up my time, but… in recent weeks, I’ve reached the point where I have enough information that I can’t ignore it anymore.” Martine took a breath. “And one thing I can tell you for sure: It does matter which Church you go to. I grew up practicing ‘live and let live’, so I figured God was the same way. All roads leading to heaven…”

“You don’t think so anymore.” Gia finished. It wasn’t even a question. She bit her lip. “I… would like to be more… sure. Right now, I don’t even know if there’s anything to be sure of.”

Martine nodded. “I understand perfectly. Look, I’m new at this myself. But I know, for a fact, that the woman I’m studying with now would be fine with having you join us.”

“Her folks don’t mind two or three adult strangers hanging around their daughter?”

Martine shook her head. “The young woman had to move away with her father. I’ve now studied with four different people from that Congregation.” She smiled a bit. “All of them seem to have the same answers when I ask the same questions.”

“You’re testing them?” Gia seemed amused by that.

“My old Church went looking for a Priest that agreed when the last one was promoted.” Martine excused. “I figured if I was going to convert to anything, I at least wanted to know if they agreed with each other.”

Gia bit her lip. “I don’t know, Martine. Julian’s right about one thing: The Firm is courting the Church as a Client. Julian was given his first case with Father Fitzpatrick because he was Catholic. I went along, because I was just an intern then. Right now, I’m having coffee with someone I know through a co-worker, but if I take an active stand, the way you did at the party last night...”

Martine nodded, not really confident enough to push it. “I understand. If you want to keep it informal, just between us, I can talk to you about some of the things I’m studying, but… If you have questions, I might not know the answers yet.”

“You just described my career, and my personal life, in one sentence.” Gia quipped. “Besides, I can’t take on a regular study right now. The Firm has assigned a bunch of us to a new case; and it’s going to be time consuming. Class Actions against Corporations always are.”

“Is this the thing with Hancock Industries?” Martine guessed.

“Julian shouldn’t be telling you about cases he’s working on.”

“He didn’t.” Martine smirked. “But I saw the news story four months ago, and I figured that’s about how long it takes to get a court date. I’m married to a lawyer. I have a basic understanding of how these things work out.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. But the thing about corporate law? It lives on red tape.” Gia reported. “This case could be in pretrial until New Years. The Firm is fine with that, because it’s all billable hours.”

“I read in the paper that the Class Action is being funded by some environmental groups. They’ll actually be able to take on Hancock Industries head-to-head for a while.” Martine nodded.

~/*\~

“All right, so here’s what we know.” Julian reported to Humphrey, his superior at the Firm. “Hancock Industries has a chemical plant, where they make safe compounds. But the process has a few toxic side effects. There was a class action, demanding the plant be open to independent inspectors. That request was denied, so they began taking samples from the surrounding area.”

“Looking for what? Toxicity?” Humphrey guessed.

“Right. They found nothing in the air and soil samples; and that was the end of it until late last year.” Julian reported. “The Chemical Plant is uphill from a rivulet. The town gutters collect rainwater and it all flows out into the rivulet. Rainwater, people hosing off their sidewalks? It all flows downhill.”

“I think I see where this is going.” Humphrey nodded. “What’s the Chemical Plant hosing off?”

“No idea, but apparently it’s enough that they can pick up toxicity in the rivulet, more than a mile away. Now for the bad news… The rivulet that handles all the rainwater? It flows into a duck pond, where local kids come and play all the time.”

“So the runoff from the Chemical Plant keeps flowing downhill, until it accumulates in the duck pond; and the kids start breathing it in.” Humphrey summed up. “Standard tactic is to delay, until the claimants can’t afford to keep legal action going.”

“Hancock Industries were able to delay the court date by four months to ‘gather more evidence from the river over a longer period of time’.” Julian let out a breath. “But the Class Action got the support of some people with money; and they’re willing to keep the ‘war chest’ funded. Waiting them out until the money dries up isn’t going to work this time.”

Humphrey nodded. “So, instead of going broke, the Class Action was able to keep on gathering evidence for four more months.”

“And more importantly, they were able to collect evidence from the local children, who have been getting sicker.” Julian nodded.

Humphrey took that in, glancing further into the file. “So Hancock Industries isn’t just polluting the waterways; they're causing cancer?”

“Cancer, and a few other things. It sure looks that way.” Julian nodded. “The Class Action suit has now expanded to include over a dozen families that live in the area. The medical bills are stacking up.” With the briefing finished, he paused to let the moment hang. “They’ve gotten to the point where this is going to make it to a Courtroom, and for some reason, Hancock Industries has decided to get new representation.”

“And the Class Action?”

“They’ve hired someone named Zeke Pollard.”

“I know him, from back when I used to teach. He was a class or two ahead of you.” Humphrey let out a breath. “When I was an intern, one of the senior partners at my old firm decided a twenty year law career was enough to get into politics. I took a leave of absence to work on his campaign. He did all the usual things. Shook every hand, kissed every baby. One day, he was at a park, sat one of the kids on his knee to tell the Press a story about school reform. The kid didn’t like being held up to the cameras by a stranger and wriggled out of his grip… My old boss dropped him, and the papers got a great shot of a toddler cracking his scalp open while his mother screamed.”

Julian winced. “Yikes.”

“Know the valuable life lesson I learned?” Humphrey quipped.

“Little kids can win or lose any argument?” Julian guessed.

“Find out how many of those families have little kids with huge medical expenses.” Humphrey warned. “I’m betting they’ll be in attendance every day, front row, for the Jury to get a good long look at.” His voice lightened. “So. Hancock asked for you by name.”

It wasn’t exactly a question, but Julian knew he had to answer. “I helped his son get out of a jam that could have been bad.” Julian explained. “More than once, if I’m honest.”

“That’s how this business works, son.” Humphrey nodded, proud of him. “You build relationships, and they take you places. You win this thing, you’ll be Hancock’s first call when he needs anything from a Lawyer. You win this case, and you’ve landed your first ‘whale’.”

“And all I have to do is make a jury side with a billionaire over a row of cancer kids.” Julian drawled.

~/*\~Satau~/*\~

There was a new kind of energy in the slave towns. More than a million people crammed into tiny homes, most of which they built themselves. The streets were narrow, the smell was thick.

And yet there was a new kind of charge in the air. In every home he passed, he could hear them talking. Some households were hissing with barely restrained anger at the extra workload. Some were crooning out songs of praise, prayers of thanks. There was an incredible feeling that things were going to change completely.

And every house he passed, he could hear them all murmuring the name ‘Moses’ to each other, one way or another.

~/*\~

Some of the soldiers had ‘tame’ workers, who brought them information in exchange for favors. For all Leahe’s talk about how there was only one response, some of the foremen knew the trick of offering a helping hand as much as a killing blade.

The informants were on the prowl, looking for information. None of them knew where Moses was. Which meant the soldiers didn’t either.

“Why not show your brother how it was done?”

Satau jumped. There was a Boy sitting in an alcove. “What?”

“Your brother.” The Boy repeated without scorn. “Why not show him how you made the snake appear? Then he’d be able to do it himself.”

Satau stared. “How do you know about that?”

“Everyone knows. Everyone here is talking about the confrontation this morning.” The Boy said easily, eyes still on him. He had a broken instrument slung behind him, and a chipped bowl in his lap. “The High Priest teaches you magic tricks with snakes because he knows that symbols have power. Moses turning a rod, a tool for guidance, into a serpent; a source of destruction, is a symbol. The fact that your magicians could turn two staffs into snakes… that were promptly devoured? That’s a symbol too. To your brother, it’s a symbol that he cannot do what you can. But you know why. It’s because you’re a better liar than he is.”

“I honor my gods.” Satau didn’t bother ‘playing the part’ in front of this kid. What could a small child do to challenge the appearances of power he showed to Pharaoh? “The magic tricks bring acclaim and glory to their name, and to their Temples.”

“You cannot bring real glory with false miracles, in the same way you cannot be more honest by telling more convincing lies. Most people can even deceive themselves, when they try hard enough. What sets the God of Moses apart is that He is not fooled by anything men can do.” He pointed. “Moses is that way.”

Caught off guard, Satau froze. “What?”

“You came to find him. You aren’t carrying a weapon.” The Boy said lightly. “The Priests have their reasons for hunting down Moses. You have your own.”

Satau looked at him. “Yes.”

The Boy pointed again. “Better hurry.”

Satau tossed some coins in his bowl, if only to give the appearance of buying the information, and hurried on. He would later wonder why he didn’t ask any questions to verify if it was true or not. Sending him in the wrong direction would have been the easiest trick a Boy could play.

~/*\~

It took him an hour to sneak past everyone involved. But finally, there he was, alone in a small family dwelling, kneeling in prayer. Moses. Alone. Even Aaron wasn’t with him at the moment.

And Satau couldn’t figure it out. He was an old man, wearing sackcloth robes, and sandals. His feet were dirty, his beard was white, and when he prayed aloud quietly, he had a speech impediment.

(Author’s Note: Exodus 4:10 says: ‘Moses now said to Jehovah: “Pardon me, Jehovah, but I have never been a fluent speaker, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant, for I am slow of speech and slow of tongue.”’

Most secular Bible Scholars agree this is likely in reference to a speech impediment. The Bible is not specific as to symptoms. Jehovah made allowances for this limitation by naming Aaron as his spokesman. But in Deuteronomy 1, Moses spoke personally to all Israel, apparently with confidence.

Some speech impediments can be overcome with time and effort. But since the Bible is not specific, I have made no direct effort to depict a stutter/lisp, or other sign in any of his written dialogue. It’s not added to his words in the Bible record either.)

And this is their hero? Satau thought distantly. To defy a world empire?

Moses lifted his eyes. If he was surprised to have company, it didn’t show. “Well. You have done what no soldier could do, Egyptian. You got all the way to my back when I was defenseless.”

“I could have killed you before anyone knew I was here.” Satau said, unsure of why he opened with that. My father told me to locate him, but not to engage. Why am I talking to him now?

Moses didn’t blink. “I came to Egypt to demand freedom for its slaves. You think weapons and armor are what I count on for protection?” He looked the Acolyte over. “But you’re not here to kill me.”

Satau shook his head. “I’m not a soldier. Or an assassin.”

Moses nodded. “Ask your question.”

The second Moses asked, Satau realized why he’d revealed himself to the man at all. Yes, he had a question; and it finally jumped to mind. “Why you?” Satau asked immediately. “In the Royal Court, they talk about you like a madman making a fool of himself. The elder slaves describe you as chosen by your God. The younger mostly see you as a terrible excuse for a revolutionary. Those few that do take you seriously think of you as a General leading an uprising; or a prophet blessed by a God nobody’s heard of. I assumed at least one of them would be right...”

“I don’t look the part, do I?” Moses admitted. “Forty years ago, I wanted to be a General.” He looked down, shamed by it. “I even killed a slave driver. I murdered a man, may God forgive me. I fled to the wilderness. Spent decades living in tents, learning to care for sheep.”

“But you came back?” Satau said. “The trick with the serpent. How did you do it?”

“You did the same.” He pointed out.

“Yes. I know how I did it.” Satau insisted. “To be a Priest takes years and years of study, approval by your teachers, training and practice… I can see no sign of your training, sir. Not even a fine garment, or an eloquent voice.” Satau spread his hands wide. “And yet you mastered a trick that the High Priest taught me, as his second. What qualifies you?!”

Moses considered him. “A lie is just an imitation of truth. That’s why people believe them. You can’t see the trick, because there wasn’t one. Jehovah doesn’t need magicians. Your icons do.”

“Jehovah sent you.” Satau said firmly. “Every god in Egypt has their own temple. Every temple has a High Priest. Jehovah doesn’t have any of that. You clearly aren’t a Priest, or a scholar, or a politician. Why did he choose you?”

“I wonder the same thing.” Moses almost smiled. “When I was… approached, I wanted to refuse. Forty years of living the humblest of lives had shown me much about my… presumptions. I let go of my wishes for myself and my people, and focused on the little lambs who needed someone to keep them safe and warm at night.” He sighed. “Jehovah God chose someone to lead His people. He didn’t pick a Prince, or a Warrior, or a Priest. He picked a Shepherd. Someone who serves. Everything else, Jehovah can provide.”

There were voices coming from just outside the house. They were about to be disturbed.

“You should go. Before they catch you.” Moses said. “Some of my people are expecting assassins. If the wrong person catches you here, it could be dangerous for you.”

Satau was about to argue the point, when two people came in. To his shock, it was Tzioni and Leahe. They were equally stunned to see him in their house.

“Would you two help him find his way home?” Moses said. “We have some other matters to discuss. About what comes next.”

Tzioni shivered, eyes locked on Satau. “Get him out of here, Leahe.”

~/*\~

“It’s the second time your father has trusted his daughter to escort a stranger.” Satau commented.

“My father is trying madly to protect the rest of us.” Leahe said tightly as she led him by the arm through the narrow streets. “People notice me walking with a man who looks like one of us, and it’s gossip; but perfectly normal gossip.”

“Ah. And people notice anyone in your family speaking with an Egyptian in the middle of the night, in your own home…”

“Just talking to you could get us labeled as informants.” Leahe nodded. “Which is still the lesser of evils, given what you know now.”

“I get the feeling your father doesn’t approve of me even being in a room with Moses.” Satau commented lightly. “Which is interesting, because last time he was in the same room as me, Moses was the one that insisted on coming in and making a scene.”

“We were expecting soldiers to come.” Leahe admitted. “I don’t know if you were there to locate him, or kill him yourself, but-”

“But Moses will be in an entirely different part of Goshen within the hour.” Satau finished for her, unsurprised. “I probably won’t be the last, you know.”

“We know.” Leahe said quietly. “But they won’t send assassins. Masters aren’t subtle with slaves. They’ll send a thousand men in, hack their way through everyone who looks at them while they search, and make sure Moses’ screaming is audible all over Goshen. He’ll be an example for us, the next time we ask for something outrageous, like an extra few minutes to rest between whippings.”

Satau glanced at her. “As I recall, you were far less willing to speak your mind to me last time we took this walk.”

“Our workload was doubled because someone I hadn’t met delivered a message I didn’t know about, to someone else I’ve never met.” Leahe commented. “We go to sleep aching every day. Dozens of us collapse and die while hauling bricks every day. There were many times that number since Moses showed up. You’re breaking us, my lord. If I happen to be killed for saying this, I could use the sleep.”

And Satau stopped. “Leahe…” He heard himself say suddenly. “I could have you sent to me.” His tone meant it as an offer, but she jerked back as though it was a threat. “There are plenty of domestic slaves. You wouldn’t have to cut grass, or shape clay, or haul water… You could find an easier life there.”

“And I’m sure if I was male, or old, or covered in scars, you’d make the same offer.” Leahe said flatly.

Despite himself, Satau flushed. “I admit, I probably wouldn’t.”

“Beauty is worse than a death sentence to a slave, Acolyte.” She said shortly. “If I wanted an ‘easier’ life, then I could have approached any Egyptian and offered myself as a domestic. If I had offered, would you have said no?”

“Probably not.” He admitted.

Leahe looked scared, but tried to hide it. “If you went to the foreman right now and gave them my name, I would be cleaned up and delivered to your house by morning. If I refused you anything, I would be whipped until I said yes. My father would be hacked to pieces and fed to your Temple cats before noon. I’ve seen it happen to women here many times.”

Satau felt his stomach flip. “Yes.”

Leahe looked at him. She was being very brave, but a single tear was leaking from her eye. “So. What now… master?”

Satau looked back at her beautiful face for several moments, before he reached out and brushed the tear away, without giving any thought to why. She trembled when he made contact, and let out a hiss as she broke eye contact, unable to meet his gaze anymore.

“Go home.” Satau said finally. “Go back to your father. And tell him… that we likely won’t see each other ever again.”

“Thank you.” She whispered, and turned to hurry away.

~/*\~

The moment stayed with Satau as he made his way home. Leahe was right. She wouldn’t be able to refuse his advances without herself and her father being punished. She was also right when she said it happened fairly often. Most men of privilege kept domestics. It was… easy. The ease of having total power over another.

He thought of how scared she was when he’d brushed a tear away and burned inside. He thought of one of the other Temples Priests noticing her pretty face and felt his fists bunch.

The thought boiled away in his mind as he came home. So much so that he didn’t even notice he was walking through the Temple again, until his father spoke up. “You’re back!” He called. “Did you find any sign of Moses?”

Satau nearly swallowed his tongue, thinking of a cohort of soldiers swarming through the streets, killing their way through to Leahe and Tzioni, knowing that Moses would likely have been moved by the time they arrived. “No. No trace of him.” He said finally. “From what I hear, they move him regularly, for exactly this reason.”

“I was under the impression that his people were ready to lynch him.”

“Goshen has the same division Egypt has, between the ones that think he’s legitimate, and the ones who think he’s trouble. But Goshen has a third faction: The ones that are ready to die trying.” Satau reported. “The new workload has pushed them past the point of no return.”

Jambres let out a hard sigh. “The King was about to rescind that order, and then Moses showed up again. If they’d just left things alone for another day, everything would have gone back to normal.”

Satau thought of Leahe again. Normal. Like always. The burning feeling came back.

Jambres suddenly grinned. “Also, it’s none of my business, but I couldn’t help but notice Ashura collecting a few jugs of wine and making her way to your rooms…”

Satau blushed, despite himself. He’d completely forgotten Ashura. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“She’s not interested in the magic trick, it’s the ability.” Jambres gave his son a slight warning grin. “Some women are drawn to power. The power of the gods is the ultimate form of that, but since Ashura can’t seduce the gods…”

“We’re the next best thing?” Satau guessed. “That's why she’s with Khnem?”

“Because as the firstborn son of the High Priest, he was the closest she could get to a god. And then you go and perform a miracle… You’re a young man, Satau. I’m not going to pretend you shouldn’t enjoy the company of a pretty girl. Just don’t forget Khnem is affected too. To say nothing of the fact that if she ever figures out how the magic trick was done-”

“Then we’ve lost everything.” Satau almost laughed, when it suddenly hit him. “Oh.”

“You look sad now.” His father observed. “Something on your mind?”

Satau bit his lip. “Did mother know the truth? About the ‘miracles’?”

Jambres met his gaze, surprised by the question. “No, of course not. Nobody could know, or the whole point of…” He suddenly understood. “Ah. That’s the problem, isn’t it?” He sighed, getting ready to tell his son some hard truths. “Being High Priest can be a lonely life, son. To a certain extent, we’re like Pharaohs that way. We can have women, have love… But the gods demand more of our service than anyone we could meet in this world. It’s right that we are so committed. It’s right that we give them our best. There are rewards. It’s the price you pay for-”

“-for knowing the truth. The whole truth.” Satau challenged. “Nobody will ever understand why we do what we do. Nobody will ever understand how. Because I can never tell Khnem or Ashura, or anyone else I ever meet, what the whole truth is.”

“There are more powerful truths than where your staff went.” His father counseled. “I see proof of that every time the people come to the Temple for worship. Your brother could never handle it. You could. That’s why you’re my successor.”

Satau suddenly felt terribly lonely, wondering if his father had ever wanted to share his secrets with a loved one. He forced a smile, letting the intensity of the moment fade. “Just out of curiosity, which scenario would be worse? Destroying my brother’s relationship with the woman he’s wildly smitten with, or letting him find out how the tricks are performed?” He asked dryly.

“The secret impresses nobody.” Jambres laughed. “Go. Have a good night. Clearly, we aren’t going to find Moses right now. And if he shows his face again, someone’s going to kill him; either one of our people, or his. By all accounts, it’s over.”

Moses' voice came floating through his memory. “We have much to discuss, about what comes next…”

Satau felt himself tense. No. It’s not over.

~/*\~~/*\~~/*\~

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