Part 1, Chapter 1

ch. 1 - Year 925



"Still, Amon-hotep, you know that your father is right. Can you not see that?"

The teenaged son of the scribe and seer, Hapu, responded by winging a flat stone across the surface of the Nile, watching it skip seven times before finally sinking out of sight. He did not care to answer the question posed by his friend Khaemwaset concerning the history lesson they had just received, not just yet. Khaemwaset had talked incessantly since their class had ended more than an hour before, analyzing their studies from many different viewpoints, but until now had not defended their instructor's position. Amon-hotep allowed his mind to wander back to the classroom. There, he had grunted and scowled at his father, as always differing with Hapu's teachings, but when asked if he had anything of import to contribute, he had chosen to remain silent. Hapu had lost his temper then, rebuking and finally dismissing his son from the class. Amon-hotep had not wandered off but instead had remained nearby, just out of sight, silently listening to the remainder of the day's lesson. After the class had ended, he and Khaemwaset had walked together down to the docks of Thebes where Amon-hotep liked to amuse himself by skipping stones across the surface of the water. Sometimes such recreation had proven to be an excellent therapy for him when he was troubled, better than a silent meditation. He picked up another stone and hefted it, testing its weight, all the while feeling Khaemwaset's presence behind him. He flung the stone among the bright, blue waves and stared after it, as though by will alone he could direct its course.

After a while, he took a deep breath of the warm spring air and released it noisily, shaking his head. "No, Khaemwaset, he is not right, not right at all!"

"Love is ever the Absolute," his friend reminded him. "That was one of our earliest lessons."

"I know it was."

"And King Solomon proved his love for our beloved Queen Hatshepsut, did he not?"

"According to my father, yes."

"And you find fault with this?"

Amon-hotep whirled and eyed his friend angrily. "With love, never! But Hatshepsut had no right to share the Mysteries with him!"

"No right? As Queen and head of the Inner Temple, it was entirely within her right!"

"You sound just like my father," Amon-hotep observed, "but that doesn't change the fact that Solomon had not proven himself worthy for induction into the Sacred School!"

"He was a wise man, Amon-hotep, pious and just in the extreme!"

"Granted! But he was not initiated according to the regulations of the Inner Temple!"

"Hatshepsut suspended them because-!"

"Because of what?" The words were crisp, powerful, and evenly-spaced. "Because she loved him? Because of a personal feeling that biased her judgement?"

"That did not matter! Solomon was worthy to receive the Sacred Teachings anyway!"

"But because he was never initiated, that can never be proven!"

Khaemwaset turned away, having no rejoinder for Amon-hotep's summation. His friend had the decisive point and he knew it. When Ma’at-Ka-Re Khnumt-Amon (Hatshepsut) had waived initiatory rites for Solomon, she had alienated many of her top advisors, causing a major split in the ranks of the Inner Temple and hastening her fall from the throne as well. Hapu had been one of the queen’s earliest and staunchest supporters and had always taught his classes from this point of view, but his son was of a different bent of mind. It was Amen-hotep's nature to examine a problem from all sides but once having come to a decision, nothing could sway him from it. He had resolved to go against his father in this matter and the split in the Brotherhood was mirrored and magnified in the father and son. Few besides Khaemwaset knew how deep the division went. He wearily seated himself on the shore and looked up quizzically at his friend.

Amon-hotep had fallen silent and was staring at the sunlight glinting off the Nile. For many months he had been exercising his psychic talents, trying to prove a theory that one could glean spirit messages through water-reflected sunlight. Hapu had tried it once himself but had given up when the pressure on his optic nerves had become too much for him to bear; he had declared the idea impossible and frightfully dangerous, claiming that even Imhotep the Wise would never have tried such a foolish experiment. But his son had ignored every warning and would not be dissuaded from his task. /Amon-hotep will surely go blind if he does not reconcile with his father,/ Khaemwaset thought glumly. /Is it possible that he is trying to prove Hapu wrong - in everything?/ He looked on with deep sadness as Amon-hotep rubbed his eyes and stared again, then laid back in the damp sand and began a rhythmic chant. Perhaps the peace of meditation would offer a solution.

Soon Khaemwaset was deep in a trance and felt his ba slide back into the depths of time. After what seemed both an eternity and a split-second, he found himself floating over his native village in the Nile Delta. The tiny fishing community consisted of only a few small, rude huts surrounding a central cooking area. Naked children ran helter-skelter among the cooking-fires, some screaming with the joy of play, others with the anguish of hunger. Apart from the others stood a slim, silent, dark-eyed lad in whom Khaemwaset's ba recognized his youthful self. As a young boy, he had endured the loneliness of a child who knew he was different. He had been saddened by the knowledge - what child wants to be left out? - but had taken comfort in the belief that he was somehow destined for great things. Yet when he had tried to express himself, to share his beliefs with his family and friends, he had been rebuked and laughed at; his only recourse had been silence. Setting himself apart from others had been an indelicate decision for a six-year-old but Khaemwaset knew that it had been the right choice. In so doing, he had unconsciously begun to pray and had stumbled across meditation quite by accident. A vivid imagination had helped considerably in the development of his abilities and only deepened his conviction in his future importance.

Time flashed forward. Within a few years, his abilities included predictions of future events and he soon became a sensation throughout his nome (province). No longer frightened or embarrassed by him, Khaemwaset's father began charging fees for his son's prognostications. Most often, these fees came as food or clothing rather than the money to buy them, and he became so successful that he abandoned the fishing trade entirely. But the old man had died mysteriously less than a year after his profitable enterprise had begun and the ever-superstitious villagers, believing the boy to be a demon, had turned the youngster out, fearing the wrath of the gods. Khaemwaset had taken to wandering through the Delta, making a marginal living through the sale of his abilities, until he had come to the attention of a papyrus weaver living on the outskirts of the great city of Mennof-Ra (Memphis). A compassionate man, the weaver had taken him in and had cared for him.

After several months had passed, the weaver had introduced Khaemwaset to a member of the local priesthood who, upon recognizing the boy's abilities and potential, had penned a letter of introduction for him and sent him off to Heliopolis where he had made arrangements for his education. Studying under the chief magistrate of the temple there, Khaemwaset had become known as a quick study and an eager student, advancing rapidly in his classes.

During his fifteenth year, he had made the acquaintance of Hapu and Amon-hotep, up from the Brotherhood center at Thebes. The two boys had become fast friends despite their different backgrounds - Khaemwaset's poverty-stricken early years and non-descript lineage contrasted sharply with the family of Hapu whose ancestry could be traced back over two centuries. A great line of priests, civil servants and royal viziers, they had helped develop a secret Mystery School known as the Sacred Brotherhood whose greatest initiates were collectively called the Inner Temple. The Brotherhood sought to unlock the secrets of nature and the human mind, and to help men live better, more satisfying lives. To this end, their members met in the shadows of the great temples of Thebes the Gleaming to discuss philosophy, religion and the various sciences. These meetings were for the spreading and sharing of knowledge, and for the discovery of students whose potential indicated they were ready for the higher stages of the Brotherhood's teachings. The greatest teachings were reserved for the fewest students - the Inner Temple - whose decisions in all matters concerning the Brotherhood, including, and especially, initiation, were final. Since the time of the pharaoh NebpehtiRe ‘Ahmose (Ahmose I), at the time of the Great Liberation, the Brotherhood had been unified, teaching the same philosophy in both Thebes and Heliopolis, but when it had split under Ma’at-Ka-Re Khnumt-Amon (Hatshepsut), the two schools had drawn apart - Heliopolis supporting the Queen; Thebes, her own capital, going against her. She had subsequently been removed from the throne - no one was sure how - and replaced by her nephew, Men-kheper-Re Dhutmose, (Thutmose III), a strong supporter of the Theban aristocracy and conservative priesthood. From that time, the Brotherhood center in the Delta had declined in importance while steadfastly maintaining its beliefs. In her ways, Khaemwaset had been trained.

Hapu had managed to stay in Thebes after Hatshepsut's removal, his position being secure due his family line, but his effectiveness as a teacher and political entity had been severely curtailed. He had come to Heliopolis ostensibly to enroll his son in the school there for some specialized training but had actually come to discuss his position in Thebes with the Kheri-Hebs, the master teachers of the Heliopolis school. When he had returned to Thebes, Khaemwaset had chosen to accompany him. He had not forgotten the kindnesses of the priests, nor those of the weaver, and he was determined to help others as he himself had been helped. He admired Hapu's wisdom and integrity, as well as his fortitude in dealing with his situation, and he wished to do whatever he could in the man's behalf. He could not have known that his greatest task would quickly become keeping the sage and his son from each other's throats.

Khaemwaset came out of trance and slowly opened his eyes, cautiously allowing them to become accustomed to the sunlight. Nearby stood Amon-hotep, stolidly looking across the Nile, continuing his experimentation. Khaemwaset felt a sudden flash of anger. There was only one was to stop this foolishness. He leapt to his feet and quickly strode over to his friend.

Amon-hotep did not hear him, so deep was his concentration. His straining face was colored an ashen gray and his forehead was soaked with perspiration; his entire body felt like a living furnace. His eyes had become two deep pools of searing agony - the tears in them did nothing to help. But he kept on, as if each new influx of pain was a fresh challenge - feeling, hoping, praying that this time he would succeed.

The designs on the waves were slowly forming words - was it his imagination? He blinked unconsciously. No! They were still there! Not physically, of course, but coalescing in an alternate reality which only his inner mind could perceive. Slowly, the patterns built letters, words, phrases...in one explosive moment, everything came together for the son of Hapu and he cried out in exaltation, then sank to his knees in the sand, exhausted.

Khaemwaset caught him before he could topple entirely. "Amon-hotep!" he cried, his earlier anger dissolving into concern. "What is it? What did you see? Are you all right?"

The sage's son clutched his friend for support, his breath coming in heaving gasps. "I've done it! I've done it!" he repeated hoarsely.

Khaemwaset held his friend, allowing him to recover. Eventually Amon-hotep's panting subsided and he pitched backwards to the ground, unconscious. Khaemwaset watched him anxiously. Had more than his friend's eyesight been lost? Amon-hotep's breathing seemed to have stopped. A brief surge of panic arose within him but as he was about to dash off for help his friend opened his eyes and grinned up at him. "I've done it, Khaemwaset!" he laughed.

"Exactly what have you done, Amon-hotep?" The question carried more than one meaning but at the moment the son of Hapu was concerned only with the most obvious one.

"What have I done?" he echoed, propping himself up on one elbow and gazing intently at his friend. "My dear friend, I have proven that the theory of receiving psychic messages in reflected sunlight is not only plausible but eminently practical! With proper study, one can meditate on the river and learn many things!"

"And what have you learned?" Again, the double meaning.

Amon-hotep held up his hand and frowned. "Give me a moment..." He stared at the river again but with far less intensity. Several minutes passed in silence. "The message is for both of us," he said dreamily.

Despite his concern, Khaemwaset could not contain himself. "What does it say? Quickly, tell me!"

Amon-hotep's features assumed a puzzled expression. "I am to grow into a great seer and sage, Khaemwaset, eclipsing my father, and my name and fame will one day be legend. I will do many great things and live in the midst of tumultuous events. But I shall outlive those events and all who oppose me."

"This is a great prophecy, Amon-hotep! Why do you not rejoice at it?"

"Because the message also said, 'yet you will not see any of it.' This statement confuses me. I must meditate on it."

Khaemwaset was horrified. "Meditate on it? Amon-hotep, the answer lies before you and still you do not see it! Everyone has warned you about the potential danger to your eyes - myself, your father, the priests, all of us! Now the very messages you have sought have told you the same thing! Will you not listen?"

Hapu's son remained silent a long time, considering his friend's words. "Perhaps you are right. But the eyes are mine and it is I who must decide if the sacrifice is worth the gain."

"But what will you gain?"

"That I will not know without further experimentation."

"And what do you hope to find?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. New knowledge, fresh insights, the wisdom of the gods? Who can say? Khaemwaset, I don't know what awaits me on this path but I am compelled to pursue it. It is important to me to do so. Why? I don't know that, either. Perhaps the journey itself will be my answer. But whatever the reason, I know that I must do this, whatever the cost. This desire burns from within, and I cannot turn away from it." As before, there was no reply to his summation and Amon-hotep clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Ah, but be of good cheer, Khaemwaset, all is not dark! Remember, I said the message was for both of us. Do you not wish to hear what is foretold for you?"

"Tell me," Khaemwaset replied, fearing the worst.

"The prize you seek is within your grasp. You only need recognize this fact and claim it as your own." He grinned. "Yes, you will one day be High Priest of the Inner Temple! I congratulate you!"

"That was only an unattainable dream, Amon-hotep. It is you who should succeed to the High Priesthood. It is your family's heritage!

"Which was forfeited when my father foolishly chose to support Hatshepsut," Amon-hotep replied bitterly. "Besides, I have no aspirations in that particular direction. The job is fraught with political difficulties with which I would not enjoy contending. Thus, the position lies open to the wisdom of the Kheri-Hebs, and to Pharaoh." He got to his feet and glanced in the direction of the late-afternoon sun. "What the future will bring, Khaemwaset, I do not know," he reiterated, "but that is too large a question to wrestle with now, especially with an empty stomach. Let us hasten to the temple. I believe it is my turn to assist in preparing the evening meal and unless I am greatly mistaken, we are already late. Come."

As they strode up the slope towards the city, Khaemwaset glanced sadly at his friend. Amon-hotep was whistling happily, obviously proud of his accomplishment. /But he hasn't heard a word I've said!/ Khaemwaset thought unhappily. His disposition was not enhanced when his companion began to rub his left eye, trying to dislodge an entrenched particle of sand. It would not come out.



Ineni, High Priest of the Inner Temple and Chief Kheri-heb of the Brotherhood, strode to the dais and prepared to speak. The High Priest was a magnificently-built man - fully six feet tall, he towered over everyone in the underground chamber, including Pharaoh MenkheperRe Dhutmose (Thutmose III). A deep, full chest provided the power that enabled him to speak in a clear, resonant voice, strong and mellifluous, entrancing his audience until they were fully caught up in its majestic sweep. Ineni was renowned as the most eloquent of speakers; many said that he could make the work of the peasants in the fields sound enjoyable enough for kings to give up their thrones and join them. He was a great man in every respect save one. From the time of the Great Liberation over a century before, when Pharaoh Nebpehti-Re Ahmose (Ahmose I) completed the work of his brother by finally driving out the hated Hyksos and restoring the traditions of Kemet, the Brotherhood's High Priesthood was, like the kingship, an hereditary position, and the previous holders of the office had duly married and fathered sons in their turn. But after the Hatshepsut scandal, pressure had been brought to bear on Hapu by MenkheperRe Dhutmose (Thutmose III), and he had been forced to step down. He had been replaced by Ineni, an older student who was politically bland. To the consternation of all, however, Ineni proved more devoted to his work than to the ways of the flesh, and repeated attempts to have him marry had proven useless. In desperation, the Kheri-Hebs had prevailed upon the king to approve one of the more promising students from the higher grades as an apprentice to the High Priest - some had unflatteringly referred to the idea as a "co-regency" - hoping that the younger man would be more willing to take a wife. The choice had been made previously and the ceremony was for the announcement and raising of the apprentice. But of this appointment Ineni gave no sign as he prepared to read from the papyrus before him. An assistant brought a torch set in an alabaster floor stand, placing it next to him; the High Priest bowed his thanks. In the front row, Khaemwaset fidgeted anxiously with the import of Amon-hotep's prophecy while his friend sat quietly next to him, a smug grin splitting his otherwise impassive features, feeling a tremendous sense of self-satisfaction at knowing something he was not supposed to know.

"My fellow students in the Mysteries," Ineni intoned, "Divine Pharaoh. We have met many times, you and I, in this underground chamber, built a century ago by the praiseworthy artisans of Nebpehti-Re Ahmose (Ahmose I) specifically for the work of the Brotherhood. Located as it is, precisely halfway between our northern and southern borders, the center of this hall is at a confluence of mystic energies, enabling us to achieve in this place our most perfect meditations, our most successful astral flights, our most noteworthy contacts with the Divine Source. Thus, this hallowed chamber is kept secret from the irreverent and the pompous - those who would use the knowledge gained for selfish or immoral purposes - lest harm come to them through misapplication of the forces herein." Ineni paused momentarily to let his last sentence linger in the minds of his students. Adherence to the secrecy of the Brotherhood was a prime Ineni had stressed throughout his tenure as High Priest and he never missed a chance to accentuate it. "We also use this chamber for our most sacred gatherings, and to do honor to our Divine Source; to that end, we are here today to appoint my apprentice, who will one day become my successor." Ineni stopped and looked out over the throng, seemingly searching for someone. Directly before him, Khaemwaset noticeably gulped as Amon-hotep discreetly nudged him in the ribs. The High Priest's gaze came to rest between the two boys and he raised his hand as if in salute. In response to this gesture, Pharaoh Dhutmose rose from his chair and descended the dais, and stood before them. He stared deep into Khaemwaset's eyes with an intense, penetrating gaze, then smiled. The teenager sat, stupefied, not daring to move. /Is Pharaoh imparting some special knowledge to me?/ he wondered. /Or is he scouring my soul for some imperfection to reject me?/ He attempted to emulate the king's strong, steady gaze but could not. Pharaoh smiled again and reached out...

...to his friend. "Amon-hotep, son of Hapu, you honor us with your presence. The Kheri-Hebs are greatly pleased with you and hope you will have the courtesy to accept our invitation to become the next High Priest of the Inner Temple."

Thunderstruck, Amon-hotep struggled for his reply. "My Lord Pharaoh, how is it that you have chosen me? What have I done to merit such an honor?"

"Your father disappointed me many years ago but you have had the courage to defy him. You think rightly, Amon-hotep, and clearly. You must face the proper trials and examinations, of course, but it is our opinion that you will succeed. The position which belonged to your family by right of birth, and which I took from your father, I now restore to you. Adherence to tradition is important, Amon-hotep. Remember this, always." Pharaoh raised his arm and shouted, "Amon-hotep, son of Hapu, I wish you life, prosperity, and health! Students of the Brotherhood, behold your next High Priest!"

As one, the members of the Brotherhood rose, shouting their assent, but all Amon-hotep could think of was his experiments with the river and the messages he had received. Had they been his imagination, or was some trickster in the astral realm playing with him for some reason by maneuvering him into a position he did not covet? What had gone wrong?

And though the students and officials of the Brotherhood passed before him offering their congratulations, disarrayed in the non-reality of his sudden shock the only thing Amon-hotep could see clearly was his friend, Khaemwaset, standing apart from the rest, his face a curious mixture of wonder and confusion.



They had returned to the docks of Thebes - Amon-hotep staring at the river and Khaemwaset standing nearby, nervously wondering what would come from this day's experiment. During the harried week following Amon-hotep's investiture, the boys had hardly seen one another. The ancillary High Priest had passed his initial examinations flawlessly - albeit discreetly coached by several Kheri-Hebs - and Pharaoh had presented him to the god Amon in his great temple at Karnak, and then had taken him downriver to present him in the Brotherhood temple at Heliopolis. In doing so, Dhutmose had made abundantly clear just which faction of the secret fraternity was supreme, and the effect of the meetings and ceremonies, with their all-too-obviously-strained courtesies, was not lost on young Amon-hotep. He had returned to Thebes a quieter and more introspective young man, acutely aware not only of his new responsibilities but of just how political his position was, and of how others might attempt to manipulate it to their own ends.

He had chosen to spend his first free day since his elevation with Khaemwaset, his relations with his father having deteriorated further than ever. He had wanted also to attempt another experiment, concerned that he had erred somehow, a feeling which had gnawed at him ever since Pharaoh had confirmed him in his office, seeming years before. Khaemwaset had once again warned him of the danger to his eyes but Amon-hotep would not be dissuaded. The sun was just beginning to set on the western cliffs across the Nile - looking for all the world like it was descending directly into the Valley of the Kings - turning the great river to luminous shades of vibrant crimson and fiery gold when Amon-hotep settled himself on the wet sand and began to concentrate.

"I do not understand, Khaemwaset," he said at length. "The vision is the same and I feel most strongly that my interpretation of it is the correct one."

"Perhaps I am to succeed you as Chief Kheri-Heb," his friend offered hopefully but unconvincingly. "You never did mention a timetable."

"That is true but I don't think so. Hmm..." Amon-hotep's voice trailed off as he gazed absently at the tiny skiffs, slim, graceful feluccas, and wide, cargo-carrying barges which slid lazily by them, their brightly-colored sails billowing in the stiff breeze. When he spoke again, it was more with the semi-detached air of a teacher than with the conversational tone extant between friends. "We have been taught that whenever we meditate or pray, and ask the Divine Source for a boon, we are to listen for an answer and to trust the very first thought which enters our minds. This so we hear the Divine clearly and distinctly, before the prattle of our conscious minds becomes dominant again. When I first received a message through this medium, I had a strong feeling about it; this feeling was repeated here today. We have been taught to trust our feelings, too, Khaemwaset, and this feeling I do trust."

"And what is this feeling, Amon-hotep?"

The son of Hapu cupped his chin in his hands and gazed somewhat mournfully at the far, jagged cliffs. /Is the spirit of the descending sun laughing at me?/ he wondered. "We shall live many years, my friend, both of us," he said aloud, "and we shall see and experience many strange things. You shall succeed me as High Priest of the Inner Temple, but not on my death. Similarly, I am destined to grow into the most respected seer and sage in our country's long history, to be compared only to Imhotep the Wise. Despite the events of our youth, these messages are telling us how men will remember us long after we have departed. This I believe, Khaemwaset, yet how these things will come about, I do not know." He stood and flung a rock into the river but the small wet stone slipped from his fingers and fell short of its intended mark. It struck a boulder half-hidden in the mud, splitting into two pieces, both parts continuing out into the waves, to sink at last out of sight in the gathering darkness.

But one of the pieces outlasted the other, and its final skip was through the crest of a wave. Droplets of water leaped high to catch the final rays of a dying sun. Amon-hotep's quick, agile mind perceived a message in the refracted light but his tired eyes could not tell him what it was.





Year 923



The aged Ineni lay dying. Amon-hotep sat nearby trying to comfort the old man, the weight of his office pressing down on him more heavily with each passing moment. Ineni would not last the night and both knew it. A cool breeze wafted into the temple's sanctum, rustling the linen curtains and causing the candles to flicker. Students in the next room had lit their braziers to burn the evening incense, praying for a peaceful transition to the afterlife for their beloved interim High Priest. But before he died, Ineni was determined to impart to his youthful protegé the secrets he had learned while in his office - discoveries his intense scholarship had taught, and which he had shared with none.

"Men think Ineni a blundering fool," he wheezed, his once mighty voice reduced to the barest of whispers, "a man easily swayed and manipulated. But I was never taken in. No, not I! Not Ineni! I let them think it, so I could be free to pursue my researches! And what wonders I discovered, wonders such as only I could find!" He turned his head slightly to face his successor and Amon-hotep winced as he thought he heard a bone snap. "And you shall be the recipient of all my wisdom, my son. You, the disciple I never engendered, in the position neither of us wanted!" He cackled softly at the irony.

Amon-hotep leaned forward. "What wonders are these, great Ineni? Tell me, so that I may better serve the Brotherhood, and all of Kemet."

Ineni coughed and spat blood. Taking a linen cloth, Amon-hotep dipped it in a bowl of water and bathed the older man's forehead and face, gently wiping the blood and saliva away from his mouth. "Thank you, my son. I hope you will be as kind to other blind folk as you have been to me." The boy froze and dropped the cloth into the bowl with a splash. "Ah, do I startle you, son of Hapu? Yes, I am blind but I can see better than most men. Ha! That is only one of my many secrets! You are the only one who knows - not even the high and mighty Pharaoh Dhutmose knows!"

Amon-hotep was overcome with a great rush of respect and admiration. How much more there was to this man than anyone suspected! "How did you become blind, Master?"

A melancholy sigh escaped Ineni's lips. "Ah, too many nights studying the ancient papyri with too little light! But the sacrifice was worth it. I learned to train the eyes of my astral self to see not only the physical world, and to relay such images to my physical brain, but also to see into men's hearts and know what they are thinking. This power I bequeath to you, my son." So saying, the High Priest touched the boy's eyes with the tips of his fingers. Instantly, Amon-hotep felt twin needles of intense fire stab into his eyes and he cried out, instinctively reaching for his face. Ineni caught both his hands with ease. "You will not begin to see with you astral eyes immediately," the High Priest cautioned, "but as your physical eyes fail - for I know of your 'exercises' - your astral self will begin to compensate. Worry not, Amon-hotep. This will happen automatically, now that I have prepared the way."

"Exactly what have you done?" an excited Amon-hotep demanded, his eyes tingling. Though intense, the fire-needles had only startled him.

"There are two energy centers in your eyes, where the optic nerves originate. These centers bridge the material and non-material worlds and usually are closed but I have directed energy to them, enabling them to begin opening. Not only will you be able to see as well as any man, perhaps better, but you astral eyes will also show you the multi-colored energy cocoon that surrounds every person. You will be able to detect changes in the colors that can tell you if a person is healthy or ill, and where the infirmity lies, or whether or not he is telling the truth. However, it is not a skill to be used foolishly or indiscriminately for it takes great concentration to perform properly. And one must never use it for selfish gain; with this skill, all is revealed and nothing remains hidden - sometimes within yourself."

Ineni continued his recitation far into the night, during which he passed on many things to his successor, ranging from explanations of advanced techniques for meditation and astral travel to dream recall and interpretation to methods and styles of oration to exercise and mental conditioning for extended life. Amon-hotep was shocked to learn that the man dying before him, who looked no more than forty, was actually well over one hundred years old.

As dawn began to break over the eastern horizon, Ineni slumped onto the cushions of his favorite couch and, with a long, shuddering sigh, breathed his last. Amon-hotep sat a long time, gazing in amazement at the stack of papyri he had written from Ineni's last words, wondering if he would ever make use of even half of all the High Priest had told him. He covered his mentor's body with a linen sheet, then rose and went to tell his fellow student's of Ineni's passing.



After Ineni's death, his body was ritually embalmed and entombed near Ahmose's secret chapel, as had been his wish, and when the customary seventy days of mourning had passed, Amon-hotep, now a bright, strong lad of twenty, was duly installed as High Priest and Chief Kheri-Heb of the Brotherhood. He immediately made it clear to both Pharaoh and his fellow Kheri-Hebs that though he fully intended to marry and father a son, his first duty was to the business of the Brotherhood - preserving the hidden knowledge from the profane and continuing the research into the true nature of man and the cosmos. On the subject of reconciliation with Heliopolis, however, he remained deliberately vague. He had no real policy in this regard as yet and he did not want a solution forced upon him. With carefully chosen words, he announced that the matter would be given all due consideration and that when he reached a conclusion he would act on it. Pharaoh Dhutmose and his young co-regent, AkhepruRe Amonhotpe (Amonhotep II), interpreted this to mean that their conservative policies would continue, and so were pleased. The new High Priest, they felt, possessed the potential to persuade the Heliopolis Brotherhood to abandon their folly, and given time and the proper guidance, he would do so. Conversely, Hapu, Khaemwaset, and the Kheri-Hebs from Heliopolis who had attended the installation ceremonies at the "request" of the king, noted that Amon-hotep did not at all condemn their beliefs. Perhaps, they felt, he could be persuaded to acknowledge their teaching of initiation as the correct one, and so they too were pleased. Amon-hotep himself retired to his private chambers immediately after the ceremonies for rest and meditation, wondering how he could play both factions off against one another until he could develop his own policies and implement them without interference. He was naturally inclined towards the Theban conservatives, though he bore them no great love for having thrust him into his precarious position, yet he was beginning to feel some measure of sympathy for the Heliopolitans through the influence of Khaemwaset and from his last encounter with Ineni. The old man had imparted to him more than he had known.

Or had he?

As he relaxed fully into his meditation, Amon-hotep smiled wryly. Yes, Ineni, the orator, had indeed spoken with more than mere words.



Year 918



The years began to roll by swiftly for Amon-hotep. Five years after he had been installed as sole High Priest, Pharaoh Men-kheper-Re Dhutmose, (Thutmose III) died and was embalmed, then laid to rest in his tomb. Under the reign of his son, Akhepru-Re Amonhotpe (Amonhotep II), the Theban Brotherhood and the royal house became much closer together. Many students became actively involved with the government, and the new king encouraged all members of the royal family to participate in the secret mystery school.

As he grew older, Amon-hotep's eyesight deteriorated and failed completely but his psychic faculties more than compensated, as Ineni had promised, and he was soon granted a position at court as an apprentice scribe. He advanced quickly in the office, eventually being honored as "Chief Scribe of the Royal House" and when he exhibited a special talent for handling small children, he was soon attached to the royal nursery. In this capacity, he was to become chief tutor to the crown prince, Menkhepru-Re Dhutmose (Thutmose IV), and later the prince's son, Nebma'Re Amonhotpe (Amonhotep III).

The High Priest also accompanied Pharaoh Akhepru-Re Amonhotpe abroad in his capacity as Chief Scribe on the king's campaigns and state visits. Most were highly successful ventures, but one military expedition, against King Asa of Judah, was a disaster in which the vaunted Egyptian troops were decimated, routed, and forced to flee for their lives; the defeat earned for Pharaoh the derogatory nickname of "Zerah the Ethiopian" among the Asiatics. Fortunately, Asa had had to contend with both his squabbling brother Israelites and a mounting threat from Assyria, and so could not follow up his advantage against Kemet. Realizing this, Amon-hotep wrote of the campaign as a victory for Pharaoh, thus enhancing and solidifying his position within the royal court.

Under Amon-hotep's leadership, the Brotherhood prospered and grew steadily, numbering its students in the hundreds before he saw the thirtieth anniversary of his birth. He made a point of personally greeting each new member as he crossed from the preparatory stage into the First Hall of study, making them feel as comfortable as possible in their new-found world, and showing them by his example just what each might accomplish. He became greatly loved for telling all that whatever he had accomplished was as nothing compared to the potential that lay within them. Their confidence and enthusiasm inspired, his students plunged into their studies with unflagging energy. Amon-hotep also gained a reputation for wry humor - whenever anyone would ask him how he had become blind, he would laugh softly and reply that he had studied the ancient papyri for too long with insufficient light.



Unbeknownst to the Theban Brotherhood, Amon-hotep secretly attempted to repair the split with Heliopolis and chose his old friend Khaemwaset to act as his emissary. He knew that Khaemwaset was loyal to the Heliopolitan line of thought, but he hoped their friendship would keep his friend from jeopardizing the appointment. As it happened, Khaemwaset, embarrassed at defending one position while believing another, soon quit his assignment whereupon he was invited to accept the post of High Priest at Heliopolis. This development Amon-hotep accepted with characteristic aplomb, and he even attended Khaemwaset's investiture, reminding his friend of the prophecies he had received many years before while meditating on the river. They had laughed long and loud over the memory, feeling the prophecies finally fulfilled, and while toasting each other with many cups of strong Memphite beer, vowed never to let their respective positions come between their friendship. No further attempt at reconciliation was made after that, however, as Amon-hotep's presence at Khaemwaset's installation was tacit approval of the Heliopolis branch, and as time went on, the duties of both became more and more pressing and they saw less and less of each other.

Soon after, Hapu, fearing a conservative backlash in Thebes, retired to Heliopolis and was quickly accepted into the innermost circle of high-ranking Kheri-Hebs. Amon-hotep was at once ecstatic and deeply saddened to see him go. Many had been the times he had taken a different path simply to avoid seeing his father, so embittered had he become, yet though he never gave up the belief that his father had been wrong, he secretly wished that things had been different.



In his scribal connection with the royal nursery, Amon-hotep made the acquaintance of Yuya, Overseer of the King's Horses. The Overseer's wife, a delicate, fragile creature named Thuya, had borne him three children - a daughter named Tiy, and two sons: Ay and Aanen. A fitful dream, which he could not recall clearly but which he knew concerned their futures, caused the seer to take an extraordinary interest in Yuya's children. This he could do without attracting undue attention as Yuya's family lived close to the palace and the three youngsters were frequent visitors to the royal nursery. Amon-hotep watched them grow with a special fondness, and Tiy, Ay, and even little Aanen came to laughingly call him "father" as they saw him more than they saw their real father. The seer spent many happy hours with them during their youth but many years were to pass before he would recall his ominous dream...





Year 887



A scant month after his thirtieth birthday, Pharaoh Menkhepru-Re Dhutmose (Thutmose IV) died and was embalmed. Though some said he had dallied too long in the royal harim, Amon-hotep knew better. The king had died in his sleep and the Chief Scribe made this fact forcefully known and the rumors soon dissipated. Thutmose was succeeded by his strong-willed fifteen-year-old son, Neb-ma'Re Amonhotpe (Amonhotep III). The new king's strong attachment to Yuya's nine-year-old daughter Tiy had not gone unnoticed, and neither had Tiy's returned affection, but the amusement at court soon turned to consternation when the young king formally announced his intention to make Tiy his Chief Wife.

Immediately, the seer spoke up. "The king, my lord, might do well to consider a royal princess," he said as gently as possible. "We would not presume to dictate to Pharaoh's heart, of course, but would respectfully remind him that Tiy is a commoner, and not of royal blood. This, we fear, bodes ill for the throne."

The young king considered but a moment. "Then what would you have me do, seer? Marry a foreign woman?"

At this, Mutemwiya stepped forward. "May I remind the Lord of Kemet that his own mother is a 'foreign woman'?"

"Of course, mother. I had not intended to slight you." The king turned and ascended the dais of the throne room where he slumped into the king's chair. "I realize you both are trying to counsel me on what is best for Kemet but my mind is made up. I will not marry a royal princess, from Mitanni or from anywhere else. Tiy will be Chief Wife! None other is possible! Afterward, I will have as many secondary wives as I please but if I do not have Tiy first, there will be no second! Do you understand?"

Mutemwiya paled at her son's words and started when the seer gently tugged at her elbow. "Great Lady, a word with you in private, if you please?"

"What? Oh, yes, of course."

Diplomatically, the seer maneuvered her away from the king. "He may be right, Mutemwiya."

"Seer! Do you realize what you are saying?"

"Not always," he admitted, "but perhaps this time... Lady, I do think, after all, that to allow this marriage might be the best course."

"They are children, Amon-hotep! What can they know of love?"

"That is not important, Lady. They-"

"Not important! How can-"

"Shh! Mutemwiya, please listen to me. They are young, yes, but there is considerable fondness on both their parts. Properly nurtured and guided, this can grow into real love. Besides, Tiy does comport herself much like royalty and her family is sufficiently close to the royal house that her commoner status may not matter. But most important, this is your son's first decision as Pharaoh - it is crucial that he respect and trust his counselors from the beginning. We will always be there to guide him, Mutemwiya. Let Tiy become Queen."

Mutemwiya then gave her sanction and with such powerful backing, the king's choice was soon accepted by the other members of the court, and Amon-hotep's scribes made the news speedily known throughout all Kemet. As a precaution, the seer ordered all the various stelae, scarabs and papyri issued as wedding announcements to play down Tiy's parentage but soon discovered that, as he had hoped, the people did not seem to mind at all. Very soon Tiy was able to proclaim her commoner status openly and even show herself as the king's equal without fear, completely secure in her position. A queen of Kemet had never possessed so much power since Hatshepsut almost a century before but no one seemed to notice.



But although Amon-hotep shared the people's joy, he was not able to completely dispel a nagging sense of discontent, as though the happiness and peace of the land were about to be brutally shattered. On the king's wedding night, he again had a disquieting dream which, try as he might, he could not recall. Somewhere, somehow, something had gone wrong, dreadfully wrong. The seeds of a future disaster had been planted, but where? How? Meditation brought no relief, and an extended astral flight served only to confirm his suspicions but brought no answers.

Still filled with misgivings, he arose in the middle of the night and sat, lost in thought. Then he understood. He hastily scribbled a note to his household servants, then silently made his way to the quay behind his private estate. There, tethered to the dock, was a small felucca. He got in and cast off, carefully steering the craft into deeper water, then began a long journey downstream.



When he was very young, even before he had entered the school of the Kheri-Hebs, his father had shown him a very special place, something he had referred to as his ‘sanctuary’. Amon-hotep could not understand then what his father had meant, but he knew it was a very special place, even more profound than the underground chapel of Ahmose.



The current was swift, and by dawn, he had come to Dendera and its ancient temple dedicated to Horus, dazzling in the early morning sun. He recalled the traditional instructions of the Neters to the Pharaohs when temple construction was to commence: “May you build a house, may you embellish a sanctuary, and may you consecrate my godly place”. The great Temple of Horus had indeed been carried out according to that divine directive. Amon-hotep smiled and bowed slightly as the felucca slid past, continuing its journey on the eternal river.



Mid-day brought him to Abedju (Abydos), one of the oldest cities in Kemet - a place whose origins went back at least as far as the first Pharaoh, Narmer. Amon-hotep knew better, as did all Kheri-Hebs, for Abedju was as old as Zep-Tepi, the First Time, even before the gods had come to rule Kemet, for it was revered as the holy birthplace of the Great One, the Lord Asar (Osiris). Pharaoh Amenhotpe, he knew, was planning to rebuild some of the older temples here that had fallen into disrepair, and to increase the numbers of laborers responsible for general maintenance. The shrines built by former kings – Menkheper-Re Dhutmose (Thutmose III), Nebpehti-Re Ahmose (Ahmose I), and the great Nema-Re Senwosre (Senwosre III) - all needed greater upkeep, for when the physical temples fall into decay, so do the peoples’ observation of religious ceremonies - ceremonies ordained by the Neters (gods) themselves for the life and sustenance of Kemet. Amon-hotep could not agree more, and breathed a silent prayer for his king’s success. The felucca continued on.



With evening came the end of the blind seer’s journey, as he came at last to the small town of Zawty (Asyût), a place not generally known but which had become important due to its strategic location. Amon-hotep, however, had come for different reasons. For the region was sacred to a Neter he held in particular esteem: Anpu (Anubis), the lord of embalming and transformation, and the guide of the souls of the deceased through the Duat (afterlife). Amon-hotep secured his felucca at the shore, and settled in for the night.

After purifying himself by ritually bathing in the Nile the next morning - and paying closer attention to his prayers during the ritual ablutions than he had in years - he entered the shrine of Anpu in the greatest of reverence. Twin images of the Neter in his form as jackal-guardian greeted him as he passed, their eyes scouring his soul. Amon-hotep bent low, his forearms held straight before him with the palms up, until he was well beyond the carvings.

At length, he traversed a long, sloping corridor and came to the shrine proper. It was a simple room excavated out of the rock, with a niche in the far wall which held the statue of the god. Before the niche was a low stone altar for offerings. Amon-hotep felt at complete peace here, and set before the image of Anpu the gifts he had brought: beer, grapes, and a small loaf of bread, then bowed and recited a traditional prayer to the neter:



“O presider over the pavilion of the Neteru: hasten me to arise!

Allow me to live, Lord Anpu, in the region of silence!”



He then sat on the bare ground before the altar where he fasted, prayed and meditated for many days. But despite the serenity of the shrine, his apprehension lingered. After a week of futile probing, he performed a special exercise to rid his system of the problem and released it to the Divine Source. Having thus dispensed with it, he returned to his felucca and set off for Thebes, knowing that when the proper time came for him to know the answer, he would learn it.

In the capital, he found that he had been sorely missed and making an excuse about needing a rest, plunged into his work. He continued to rise in his service to the royal family, achieving in a remarkably short time the additional titles of Administrator of the King's Estates, Chief of the Royal Works, Herald of the God Amon, and Master of Ceremonies at the Feast of Amon. He even managed to get involved with the army, becoming Chief of Conscripts. His fame spread, and the people bore him great love and respect for his sagacity, hard work, and wry humor, which could appear at the oddest times. None loved him more, however, than Amonhotpe and Tiy, who made him their Favorite.





Year 883



As the years passed, Amon-hotep became more and more forgetful of the prophecies of the river and his fearful dreams with their dire portents. As he celebrated the sixtieth anniversary of his birth amidst an immense open-air feast at the royal palace, he reflected that he had achieved importance and respect granted few men, and at the height of Kemet's power and prosperity. The name of Thebes the Gleaming was held in awe and fear throughout the known world, and into her coffers flowed massive tribute from both Kemet's conquered territories and those lands wishing to be spared conquest. He remained on excellent terms with Khaemwaset and through that, and a tolerable co-existence with his father, a workable relationship existed between the Theban and Heliopolitan branches of the Brotherhood. He knew that the split could never be repaired - especially as the chief oracle of the country resided in Thebes the Gleaming - but due to his efforts, some measure of stability had been achieved. He had been blessed with success and good fortune and could not have been happier, or more secure.





Year 881



And in the sixth year of the reign of Nebma'Re Amon-hotpe (Amonhotep III) and the Great Royal Wife Tiy, the Chief Scribe proudly announced to the people the birth of the Crown Prince and future Captain of the Troops, Men-khepru-Re Dhutmose (Thutmose V). All Kemet went wild with joy.