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It Ain't Just a River in Egypt	By : nancyb Category: DC Verse Cartoons > Justice League Views: 3166 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Justice League, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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VVVVV
Chapter Three
VVVVV

Metit always started her day with quick prayers to the gods. King Katar and Queen Chayara were represented by tiny clay figures she'd brought from home, and they were joined by her family's household gods. She left an offering of figs this morning, asking that Ashai the cook might look her way and like what he saw.

Then she hurried to her lady's chambers.

Metit frowned. The sheets on the bed were neatly tucked, and the mattress was still plumped. She checked the oil in the lamps and found them as full as she'd left them the night before. Queen Chayara loved to read in the evening, and rarely went to bed ere the oil was gone.

As Metit went through this in her mind, she was startled by the Queen. "Good morning, Metit," said Queen Chayara pleasantly, moving past her. "I woke early today." She placed a smoothing hand over the sheets.

Metit was no fool, and she knew very well that though her Queen had many good qualities, making her own bed was not one of them. But again, she was no fool.

"Of course, my Lady."

She helped the Queen with her morning bath as always, then went to fetch her breakfast while Chayara dressed. Metit turned down the corridor, nearly running into General Bashari as he emerged from one of the guest rooms. She bowed to him, then resumed her errand.

Ashai was already red-faced from the oven when Metit arrived. The morning bread was hot and ready, and the evening meal would soon be placed in to cook.

"Morning, Metit," said Ashai, smiling at her.

"Good morning, Ashai," she said, trying not to smile too brightly back at him as she took a choice loaf and then hunted for the honey.

"How's the Queen?" he asked.

"The Goddess's health is well."

Ekibé stood at a counter, cutting roots. She said something which Metit didn't catch but made Ashai laugh.

"What was that?" she asked sharply.

Ekibé shrugged her large shoulders and repeated: "I'm sure the General is taking excellent care of her." Ashai smirked.

Metit set the food down. "That's not a good rumor to be starting, Ekibé."

"I didn't start it," replied the older woman. "Nafrit saw them in the garden yesterday."

"Many people walk in the garden."

Ashai snorted. "Nafrit said they weren't walking."

Metit felt a blush creep over her features. "Nafrit needs to learn to keep her mouth shut."

Ekibé stopped her work. "How long have you known?" At Metit's confused expression, she added, "The Queen trusts you, doesn't she?"

Ashai stood still and watched her closely. Either the Queen trusted Metit and had told her, or she didn't and hadn't, and the little status Metit had gained among the other servants would be lost again. In a moment, she replayed a dozen scenes in her mind: the Queen and the General talking, laughing, lingering in rooms together after the King had gone. And this morning, an unused bed, and the General in a bedroom close by.

Perhaps she had chosen not to see.

"We can't speak of this," she stated firmly. "The King ... "

Ekibé made a noise. "When my mother worked for the old King, he had three wives. Each of them had lovers, and the King himself insisted on bedding every girl in the city the night before her marriage."

A shudder went through Metit. When she'd come to work at the palace, her grandmother had taken her aside and told her to be watchful when answering any summons from King Katar, although her mother had shushed the old woman before she could say why. Her grandmother had been married in the city, and the old King would have been her ruler.

She shook off the horrible thoughts. "That was another time and another King. King Katar and Queen Chayara are gods come from the sky, not some ... " What was the phrase the King always used? "Tribal chiefs!"

Ashai went back to his ovens as Ekibé shrugged again. "Gods they are," she said, "but people as well. This is how these things go." Kindly, she patted Metit on the arm. "You're her body servant. Help her." Then she went back to her chopping, leaving Metit with the rapidly-cooling bread.

Her thoughts in disarray, Metit took the bread and some melon, and hurried back to her lady's chamber. She paused outside the door where she'd met the General, and cursing her own curiosity, ducked inside to peek. The mattress on the bed was not as soft as the Queen's, but did not look slept in. The sheets were tucked in with strict lines.

They had talked, perhaps, and nothing more.

As she turned to go, her foot caught something on the floor. She picked up a half-empty pot of honey, the same she'd been looking for in the kitchen. Beside it, she spied ten fresh and matching furrows in the rug, as if made by two hands with sharp nails.

Metit walked back to the Queen's bedroom, bringing the food. Her trembling stilled, she placed the bread and the melon before Queen Chayara, and then the little clay pot.

The Queen's eyes widened.

"I am your servant," said Metit, head bowed. "Tell me how I can help you, my Lady."

VVVVV

Bashari shouted the men from their slumber and then led the morning exercises himself. His muscles, stiff from sleeping on the floor, loosened quickly with the routine movements of arms and legs. Among the men, there were a few groans from those who had overindulged the night before, with women or with wine. Ishpi in particular was slow in his movements.

Perhaps with more cruelty than was necessary, Bashari ordered the men on a quick run around the city, leading the way at a brisk pace.

Two-thirds of the way around, he got a hitch in his side, and embarrassed, had to slow down. A few of the men passed him; he waved them by, though Teti-en slowed to pace him.

"I'm getting old," huffed Bashari, falling into an easier gait.

Teti-en matched it. "Yes, you are."

"You weren't supposed to agree."

"Young men can be with women all night and still run leagues in the morning. You need your rest."

Bashari glared at him. "I had plenty of rest, thank you."

Teti-en did not look at him. "Your room was empty last night, General."

Bashari tripped and quickly caught himself, continued his run. "I was elsewhere."

"Perhaps you went to the temple later?" He didn't reply. Teti-en said, "But then Nesamun and Ishpi would have seen you, and they swore they hadn't when they crawled back to the barracks just before dawn." No wonder they were tired.

They reached the training yard, behind a handful of other soldiers, and Teti-en stretched his calf muscles while Bashari panted, then stretched his own. The run had not been a good idea. He was going to be sore later.

They were away from the others and would not be overheard. "Teti-en, either tell me what's on your mind, or shut your mouth entirely. Games are for children."

"General, the Queen," Teti-en made a quick prayer-gesture, "wears a distinctive perfume. Half the men are too tired and hungover to notice anything but their own pounding heads, or more would have remarked that you reek of her scent."

Bashari went cold. Slowly, he hissed, "You should have chosen silence."

Teti-en didn't quail. "You know I am loyal to you. You know they are as well," he said, spreading his arm to the soldiers arriving back from the run. "But the palace runs on rumors. If the servants know, Hath-Set will know, and Hath-Set will not hesitate to tell King Katar." Teti-en made the prayer-gesture again.

"No one knows."

"Even if you are right, secrets are things that are born to die." Perhaps he noted the look in Bashari's eyes, for he hastened to add, "I will not reveal yours."

Teti-en's voice lowered. "But I know Hath-Set suspects you, if he does not know outright. He asked me about you."

Bashari raised an eyebrow but didn't pry. Teti-en never went to the women in the temple, but there were houses to go for men, and the palace gossip said Hath-Set frequented the same places. Teti-en would not say that was where he'd met the priest, but Bashari strongly suspected it was so.

"What did you tell him?"

"That you are a good man and sworn to the King and Queen, and that if he questioned your loyalty in my presence again I would send him home without his teeth."

Bashari grinned. "You're a good friend."

"Yes, General."

The last of the men staggered in, Ishpi and Nesamun stumbling along at the rear. Bashari barked orders to the soldiers to pair off for practice with their swords for a quarter hour, and then quietly slipped back to his quarters to wash.

VVVVV

She saw him in the distance, her sharp vision allowing her to see him clearly, while he would note her as no more than a dark blur atop the pyramid. She could tell he was looking for her, though he tried to appear as though he wasn't. For a long while she observed as he wandered the palace grounds and spoke with guards, bowed to passing priests and aided a young chambermaid with a large basket.

Fleetingly, she wished for a communicator like those used on Thanagar. That way she could summon him to her location instead of having to retrieve him herself. With a sigh, she stood on the steep incline and spread her wings. She'd awakened with pain in her lower back, attributed it to having slept on the stone floor and decided flying would loosen up the muscles. To her aggravation, the ache remained. But the ache to be with Bashari was stronger, pressing her into action. She pushed off the pyramid and caught the breeze.

A moment later, she hovered over him.

"General!" she barked and he snapped to attention. She chuckled and he relaxed enough to look around, still unable to see her. She laughed then.

Bashari tilted his head up and frowned. "Not amusing, My Queen."

"I beg to differ. You assume a military stance so quickly and so well."

He shook his head. "Come down."

"General, I am not a soldier whom you can order around," she said with mock defiance.

"Then I shall have to come up to you," he said.

Chayara crossed her arms and her ankles, assuming a relaxed appearance, though her wings still beat against the wind. "That should prove interesting."

Bashari nodded, obviously accepting her doubt as a challenge. She watched as he looked around to decide his path. He disappeared under a nearby tree and she heard his sandals scrape against its bark as he climbed. The leaves and branches shook as he emerged several feet higher, yet still below her. He leapt from the tree to a balcony, his hands grasping the elaborately carved stone as he hauled himself over the wall.

He looked over the edge and seemed to realize for the first time how high he had climbed. His eyes widened and he stepped back from the edge a half step.

"Not quite there," she informed him.

"I'm not finished," he said, taking a full step forward.

She smiled as he climbed up to stand on the wall. Almost eye-to-eye with her, he took a proud stance, feet apart, hands on his hips and a smile on his face.

"That was very impressive, General."

"Thank you, my Queen."

She saw his eyes dart downward and his smile waver. He covered by raising his hand to her. "Will you come to me now?"

"I do believe you're uneasy," she said.

"Certainly not," he dismissed, then crooked his finger at her. "Come to me."

"I think you're afraid of heights."

"A general does not have such mundane fears as that, I assure you." Again, the finger beckoned.

Chayara arched an eyebrow under her mask. "Then prove it."

"I'm standing on a narrow ledge high above the ground. I fail to see how I could further prove myself."

She nodded then and extended her hand. Bashari stretched, his fingertips brushing her palm. Suddenly, she clamped onto his hand and beat hard with her wings, lifting them both into the air.

Bashari made a very unmanly sound and flailed his free arm until he grasped her hand with both of his. His grip was painful. "Chayara! Please!" he croaked.

"I won't drop you." To prove the point, she hoisted him up further and adjusted their positions. Much as a mother would hold a too-large child, she supported his back and butt while his legs squeezed around her hips. His arms went around her neck, nearly choking her, as he pressed against her securely. "I'm much stronger than Earth women," she reminded him. "In fact, I'm much stronger than even you."

She hovered, stroking his back, waiting. When he spoke, it was with his face buried against her neck. "You were correct. I don't like heights."

Chayara held him tighter. "Fly with me," she whispered into his ear, "and I'll show you a freedom you've never known."

Bashari pulled back and looked at her then the ground far below. She saw his eyes widen at the height because she'd already raised them high above the buildings. "If man had been meant to fly then the gods would have given him wings."

"Your goddess is giving you wings now," she smiled.

He swallowed. "Then how can I refuse?"

Chayara kissed him quickly, changed her angle in the sky and flew them away from town. She went slowly, making sure to avoid sudden movements, until they were far from prying eyes.

"You'll enjoy it more if you don't cling to me," she told him. "Look around and see the sights. Feel the wind on your body."

Bashari lifted his head from her shoulder and twisted his neck. His fingers dug into her shoulders, but he didn't hide his eyes again. "It doesn't look real," he said, and she could hear the awe in his voice. "The river is so narrow, the pyramids are so small."

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

He took his eyes off the scenery for the briefest of seconds to look at her. "With my life."

"Then trust me now." She changed their angle so they were vertical once more. Her wings flapped slowly as they hovered many meters above the ground. "Let go."

Bashari's mouth opened. But rather than offer her the protest she expected, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His legs dropped from her waist and his arms loosened from her neck, allowing her to support his full weight out in front of her as though he were a rag doll.

Chayara turned him around so her chest pressed against his back. "Extend your arms outward and hold your legs straight," she instructed. He did and she leaned forward until they were parallel to the ground again. She flew toward the open expanse of desert, her arms wrapped securely around his chest and waist. "Now, open your eyes."

She felt Bashari gasp. The position of his arms and legs faltered just a bit before he recovered.

"This is ... " His breath hitched and she was afraid she'd taken him too far. " ... exhilarating!"

Chayara pressed her lips to the back of his neck, pleased beyond words that he was enjoying himself.

"Faster?" Bashari requested.

Smiling, Chayara sped up, her wings pumping harder. Bashari laughed and Chayara became bolder. She twisted them into spins and dips, which caused Bashari to whoop with excitement. She powered high up then dove headlong back toward the ground. Bashari's shout grew louder the lower they got. She could hear his excitement start to change to terror before she pulled up --- just barely above the sand --- swooping them back into the sky.

She could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breaths coming in short pants. He pulled his arms in and covered her hands with his, squeezing. Chayara felt the sudden need to land.

She tilted, sweeping them in a huge arc and flew back to the city, heading for the palace's main balcony --- the very one from which she'd witnessed Bashari's triumphant return from war not a week earlier. It was also where she'd asked --- no, begged --- for Katar to love her, to pay attention to her, to give her a child so maybe she'd have at least a part of him while his attention was on world domination. She wondered if Katar had allowed her to take him into her arms right then if she'd have Bashari in her arms right now.

Chayara careened to the left, avoiding the balcony with all its memories and questions, and instead landed them around behind the palace at the servants' entrance.

Bashari stumbled when she released him, catching himself before he toppled into the wall. He shook his head and blinked. "I did not expect to be so disoriented."

"You're not used to flying," she explained. "Stallions don't perform such aerobatics, nor do they move as swiftly."

"It was like riding with a hawk." He reached toward her.

She expected him to stroke her cheek, but he bypassed her face and touched her wing. His fingers pulled through her feathers and Chayara smiled.

"They're magnificent," he breathed.

Chayara stretched up and kissed him briefly. She wanted more, wanted his hands on her wings, his lips on hers, him buried deep inside her. But not here. Not in the open. "Come," she instructed, opening the servants' door.

VVVVV

The room was used for storage: jars of oil, rich decorations to bring out at festival time, odd gifts from wealthy supplicants which had no good place but had not yet been quietly stolen by a servant.

Chayara ran her fingers through the fine fringe of a rolled tapestry, luxuriating in the softness. Bashari purred into her shoulder, almost asleep, "Are you going to pet that all day?"

She laughed. "I'd forgotten we had this. I think it's supposed to be a picture of me."

"Then I shall take it back to my quarters and keep it," he said, kissing her collarbone.

"And what will you do with it?"

His fingers tickled down her bare sides, then rested on her hip. "I will look at it and say, 'What an unpleasant woman.'"

Chayara punched him on the arm, pulling the blow. Bashari grabbed her fist and kissed the knuckle, then held her arm above her head as his mouth found hers again.

At first, the recovery time he needed after sex had baffled her and then annoyed her. Now it was a chance to lay with him, touch him, talk to him, and she loved him even more. Besides, given a little time, she would arouse him regardless of his sleepy state.

Outside the storage room, Metit sat quietly in the corridor, keeping watch lest anyone ask after the Queen. Hidden in the dark, Chayara smiled around Bashari's kisses, delighting in the danger and revelling in the secret.

"I told the architect to cancel the plans for the new palace," she said to him between kisses.

"Why?" he asked, more intent on the kissing.

"We don't need it. It's extravagant and stupid."

"All right."

"I thought you'd be pleased."

He nuzzled her neck. "I'm working on that."

She pushed him away.

Confusion covered his features, at least those she could see in the dim light. "What is it?" he asked.

"I just said that I cancelled the work on Katar's third palace."

"I heard you."

Chayara scowled, and her gut clenched. She wasn't quite sure what she'd expected him to say, but she'd thought it would be more than this.

"You don't care," she said flatly.

He shrugged. "I care because you care. Is that what you want to hear?" He rubbed her arm playfully.

"You should," she said, pushing away his hand and reaching for her clothes. "Katar will be furious when he finds out."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" The cloth caught and stretched uncomfortably. She cursed, trying to adjust the material over her chest, until Bashari set his arms around her. She resisted, then finally allowed him to draw her against him. Grudgingly she even moved her wings so as not to smack him in the face.

"Tell me," he said into her hair.

"I wanted you to be happy with me."

"I am."

"You're happy because I can," she reached her hand around and grabbed him roughly, "give you pleasure."

Gently, he pulled her hand away and kissed her fingers. "No, I'm happy because I love you. I'm happy because you are beautiful and you are kind-hearted." He chuckled.

"What's funny?"

"You are also terribly self-centered."

"I am not!"

"You are," he said. "You were hoping I'd praise you for stopping the plans. You wanted me to say how brave you are for standing up to Katar, and how good a person you are for not spending the treasury on another palace."

"I was not."

"Yes, you were."

She wondered if he could see her glower in the dimness. "I hate you."

"No, you don't. You love me, though I can't imagine why."

"That makes two of us," she huffed.

"Shall I try to find you a good reason?" he asked, fingers peeling away the fabric that hadn't quite managed to cover her breasts.

Chayara continued to glower, but did allow him that opportunity.

As she lay against a fine table, Bashari nibbled and tasted every inch of her body. She giggled and squirmed as he breathed and suckled at the sensitive spaces between her fingers, on the backs of her knees, the soft pads of her tired feet. Then he licked his way back up the insides of her legs and between her thighs, and she knew that she loved him more than anything.

VVVVV

The Queen looked up from her barely-touched dinner and asked him, "Have you thought about where we could go?"

Bashari startled. He'd been focused on the grace of her arm as she brought small bits of food to her lips, and hadn't been following the thread of the conversation.

Quickly, he looked around the room, but of course it was just the two of them dining as her servant kept watch outside. "I'm ... not sure," he covered, taking a long draught of wine.

Her shoulders fell. "I know. I haven't been able to come up with anything, either. There's no place we might go where he can't follow. And if I do leave him," she glanced up at Bashari, offered a reassuring smile as she corrected, "when I do, I'm not sure how he'll react. I want to believe the best of him, but I've had to talk him down from all-out wars before now. There will be no one left whispering in his ear but Hath-Set."

Bashari was reminded of Teti-en's confidence. "I don't trust that priest."

"You shouldn't. He doesn't like you. He doesn't like me either but he knows I can have him killed."

"Not that I'm offering this as a suggestion, but if he happens to die before Katar returns, things might go smoother all around."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, smiling. His fingers itched to pull away Chayara's mask and see the light in her eyes that always joined her smiles.

With effort, he banished thoughts of Hath-Set from his mind. Chayara was far prettier, and the priest had no evidence for his suspicions, not yet. Bashari could arrange an accident if one was necessary, and keep her out of it.

As they ate, he placed some thought to where they might go, should they choose to run. The kingdom stretched hundreds of miles in all directions, and Katar was always casting his eye further. The sea was not many leagues to the north, and past that, the King's hand had not yet extended. Barbaric lands edged the northern coast, tiny fiefdoms where hard men clung to green mountains, growing olives and raising sheep and knowing nothing of the fine culture the gods had brought from their celestial home. Two unusual-looking strangers would raise some comment, but enough gold could buy them freedom from questions.

He would lose his command, naturally. His closest advisers would feel the King's wrath in his stead, and so he resolved to tell them to leave at the same time. She would lose her throne and her power and her good name, and her servants might also be put to torture and death for Chayara's betrayal.

But they could go north. If the need came, they could flee beyond the sea.

The shadows lengthened, and he knew he needed to return to his soldiers. He would grant leave to those who'd stayed in last night, then return in secret to the palace. He whispered these things into her ear, claiming a kiss before he stood.

"Come to my room tonight," she told him. A tremor went through his spine and he nodded before quickly leaving her there alone.

VVVVV

To be continued. (Feedback always welcome.)
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It Ain't Just a River in Egypt