“Nomarch?” I don’t know the word.
She hesitates, then nods off to the edge of the street, out of the crush. We take a seat on a low wall. “You see that symbol on the gate?”
I nod. Had noticed it almost as soon as it came in sight. Three filigreed lines branching downward from a central point, glittering against the black.
Even here, even now knowing it appropriated the image, it is impossible to escape the Hierarchy’s shadow.
“It’s a representation of Ka’s rule. Ka is at the top, and he controls the Nomarchs, who are special groups of iunctii he has acting together as single, controlling minds for each of his cities. Subordinate to him but completely separate from one another. Then, imagine a Nomarch is at the top, but governing its Overseers in the same way.”
I consider the symbol. Caeror, Ahmose, and Netiqret have all mentioned other cities like this one, though none of them seemed to know the exact number Ka rules. Interconnected by Channels, supposedly, like the one through which Caeror brought me to Qabr. Netiqret even intimated that there is some limited trade between them, apparently giving the priests and Ka-shabti access to meat and other livestock produce. “And all this means I don’t have to worry about my face being seen, because …”
“Think of the Overseers less as people, and more as limbs to the Nomarch’s mind. Appendages, rather than agents themselves.” Netiqret holds out a hand in front of her, palm out. Flexes her long fingers. “Our hands can convey to us the texture of a thing, but if we know what itshouldfeel like, we usually don’t bother checking. To do otherwise would just be wasting time. Focusing on extra, mostly irrelevant information. Yes?”
I consider the analogy. “So you’re saying the Overseers aren’t the ones who know everyone in Duat—it’s these central iunctii, this ‘Nomarch,’ who do,” I say slowly. “They’re the mind. The ones in charge. And the Overseers will only convey information to it if the Nomarch first tells them there’s a reason to?”
“Exactly.” Netiqret’s nod is approving. “If an alarm were already raised, the Nomarch might instruct the Overseers to check everyone in the area. Dedicate more of its focus to verifying identities. But otherwise, it only screens people where it has to. It is always purposeful, never wasteful.” She stands, offering me a hand. “So are you coming?”
I don’t reply as I contemplate the black-clad figures in the distance. I knew they were less than human, at least partly. Was aware of their utter predictability. This still paints them in a new, somehow more horrifying light.
More importantly right now, though, I’m fairly sure Netiqret hasn’t told me this simply to be helpful.
The ululating screech of the paid mourners finally dies as we pass through the obsidian gates unchallenged and into a massive courtyard, twice the size of the Quadrum back at the Academy. Unlike much of the rest of the city’s east, every surface in here is polished-smooth obsidian reflecting golden light. Spare and beautiful in equal measure. A dozen different exits lead deeper into the complex, each with a different symbol on its door. Each one closed, and manned by Overseers.
At the far end of the courtyard, above the heads of a gathered crowd pungent with the smell of beer and unwashed sweat, I can see the shaven-headed priest and the rest of the procession standing in front of the bridge. Another massive obsidian double gate, also closed, shining scarab symbols filigreed into each side. The priest is intoning the rites behind the bier. The iunctii who carried it stand mute and straight behind him.
“You want me to get to Duat’s Nomarch.” The crowd around us is not so tightly packed or attentive that we cannot speak privately. When Netiqret arches an eyebrow at me, I shrug. “You know what I can do. You must know where it is. And you must have a way in,” I continue, extrapolating quietly.
The tall, grey-haired woman just smiles, keeps her eyes ahead. Body language natural. She’s been at this a long time, I suspect. “How many Overseers do you count?”
I look around casually. “Twenty?”
“Twenty-three that I can see. And those are just the ones in the open.” She sounds unconcerned. Like she’s discussing the weather. “This is the most protected structure in all of Duat. Tricky, if you want to get further in.”
“I never said I did.”
“You do if you want to reach the Nomarch.” She looks at me, now. Unflappable and certain. “I don’t know what you want, Siamun, but it doesn’t matter. With what you can do? Get in there, and the city is yours for the taking.”
I watch the proceedings at the bridge. Men unshaven. Women with black streaks running down their cheeks, their clothes torn. Some of the grief is real, I’m sure. “And of course, you’ll be needing something for yourself.” If there really is a group of iunctii acting as a guiding mind for the Overseers—and the Gleaners as well, I imagine—then it makes sense that they’re in the most secure area of Duat.
I’m fairly sure Ka is in there, too. But this might give me the chance to be certain. And to actually bepreparedfor whatever I am to face in that massive pyramid of his.
“We will get to that,” Netiqret concedes smoothly. “But first, I need to understand how you control the iunctii.”
“No.”
In the distance, the priest finishes his final threefold invocation and the massive obsidian gates swing slowly open. This is the closest I’ve been to the bridge. Thin, polished black stone underfoot. Fifty-foot statues towering on either side, looming over any who walk it. As is usual, it is completely empty. The dead alone are allowed to travel its length—the only time they are supposed to remove their face coverings in public. It is a parade of white in the early morning and late evening as iunctii travel from west to east and then back again. Silent and still at almost all other times of the day.
I look at those around us and am struck, not for the first time, at how breathlessly they watch the proceedings. How uncomfortably fervent the light is behind their eyes. A different, far more intense kind of belief compared to the staid rituals and recitations that I’m used to from Caten’s adherents. One, if I am being honest, that makes me uneasy to be so thickly surrounded by.
The ululating begins again and the iunctii raise the bier. Commence solemnly carrying the corpse into the green-tinted gauntlet of sullen statues. I squint at the white stone archway they’re moving beneath; I hadn’t spotted it before but there’s something inscribed on it. Vetusian, I realise with a start, not written in the glyphs I’ve become accustomed to here.
Death is the door to life.
I frown, distracted. An old Vetusian quote. The first writing of any kind I’ve seen here that is familiar. An echo of home.
Gods, I wish Caeror was here to talk to.
Netiqret hasn’t reacted to my refusal, watching as well. As the gates slowly shut again, concealing the dead man’s journey to the west, she sighs. Beckons, and we join the gradually increasing flow of people exiting the courtyard.
