The Passion of Cleopatra (Ramses the Damned 2)

"Go," she finally said. "See if his body can be found."

They nodded and departed.

Bektaten turned back to the castle. She bowed her head and walked slowly towards it.

Ramses had no choice but to follow.

He drew the gate closed behind him, as if this gesture would somehow wall off the implications of what had just taken place.

The winds were not as strong inside the courtyard. But the plants and blossoms in Bektaten's garden still danced and shifted and made a whispering music as they rustled together. Some of the stalks were taller than her by half, and while many of the flowers seemed ordinary at first glance, upon closer inspection he saw a certain characteristic in each that marked it as miraculous: strangely shaped leaves and petals that reminded him of human hands, blossoms of such an intense hue and size it was almost impossible to look away from them.

As she paused in the aisle between the two rows of plantings, of secrets, of miracles, Ramses expected her to collapse, or at least to fall to her knees. Perhaps in grief, or perhaps from relief. But she stood steady and strong, fingering one of the blossoms closest to her.

There was a creaking metal sound from above. He looked up. It was Julie, drawing the window to Sibyl's room shut.

"And so there is something that can make us what we were," Ramses finally said.

"Is there?" she asked. "Could you ever again be the man you were before you became pharaoh? Before you became immortal? Or have you been so marked by your experiences since then, the return of your mortality would simply usher in a new existence, however limited in years?"

"Have you ever wished to know this yourself? After so much life, you must have some desire to meet the gods, should they exist. Some desire to see what realm lies beyond this one."

She considered his words for a while. She began walking again with Ramses beside her, but her focus seemed to be on each plant she passed.

"Many times I have walked the length of the land they now call Africa. I visited other kingdoms lost to history, smaller, humbler, than my own. But no less glorious in their own way. I counseled the rulers of kingdoms still largely unknown to this century, kingdoms whose great monuments have yet to be discovered. But many of my travels were solitary. And thousands of years ago, I walked endlessly, it seemed, towards a great cloud of black smoke on the horizon. Eventually I came to a roaring inferno that swept across a landscape free of humans, with nothing to stop its advance. So large was this fire, it could have consumed Thebes or Meroe. Alone, I marched towards it. Knowing with each step that I would give myself to it. That I would test the limits of my immortality, alone, with the flames.

"I tied myself to a tree. I could easily free myself if I wanted. But the time it would take to undo the rope would give me time to reconsider my decision. I tied myself to a tree so that I could watch the flames advance. So I could behold their fury and their mystery as no other human could. So that I could watch the trees fall before it and turn to ash. So that I could watch the helplessness of the soil and the life it had given birth to against a power of such force.

"And the animals that ran from this fire. The lions and the giraffes and the other great beasts, some of them paused and gazed at me as if I were a creature beyond their understanding. As if my absence of fear made me a god. And then the flames arrived. They consumed me. And I did what I could to give myself to them entirely. I released screams heard by no one. Sounds that did not seem human to my own ears. It was as if I was singing to the flames themselves." She was close to him now. She gave him her full attention. "And they sang back," she whispered.

"You heard the words of gods? Is this what you mean to say?"

"I tasted death, Ramses. There is no way to measure the time it took for the flames to pass over me. Hours, days. I cannot be sure. These measurements did not exist then. Only the passage of the sun was reliable for this. And these flames, they blotted out the sun and the night darkness entirely. The fire, it moved like a lumbering and contented beast, and I gave myself to it until it had passed."

"But what did you see, Bektaten? What did you see aside from the flames and the ruin they brought? What was this singing you heard?"

"There is no heaven. There is no hell. There is no above or below. If there is a realm beyond this one, it is no more beautiful, no more significant, no more full of truth, than ours here on earth."

"How can you say this? What did you see in the flames that would suggest this?"

"I saw a spirit world so intricate and vast, so thoroughly laced through our existence here on earth, that the rivers of departing souls have no choice but to turn back to it. They were not lost, these spirits. They did not wander. They did not wail. They did not cry out for guidance or the resolution of some petty mystery that had plagued them in mortal life. They returned. They returned with hunger. They returned with joy. They sought no greater realm. And what could that mean but there is no greater realm than this, Ramses. And so why would I wish to ever leave?"

"You don't believe it was just a vision produced by madness?" he asked.

"It was not a vision. It was sustained. For the time it took the flames to pass me, I lived between this world and a world that is here but not clearly seen."

"And you emerged from this place believing there are no fields of Aaru. No kingdom of heaven."

"No," she whispered, "I emerged from this place believing that if such a place exists, it offers no wonder greater than those here on earth. For the essence of what I saw was this: our soul, once set free, seeks only to return." He looked away from her. "You hate this thought? It angers you. You have loved and nourished visions of a world beyond this one."

"I have, in all my many years, loved and nourished many visions which I have been forced to set free. Your experience suggests a far greater challenge."

"What is the greater challenge, Ramses?"

"It suggests that all immortals must have an experience such as yours with the great fire, or we are doomed to become Saqnos. Consumed by a singular, blinding pursuit. Lost to a loneliness we create."

"Don't be so certain of this," she said, taking his hand gently and leading him back to the castle. "Don't be so certain of anything. There are many experiences within the Shaktanis that I wish to share with you. You may read and absorb them at your leisure. But do absorb them, Ramses. Don't leap to rash conclusions. Don't diminish them into a hasty code of morals and laws for beings such as us. Let them embrace you so they may guide you."

"You will teach me your ancient tongue so that I may read them?"