Page 96 of Famine
He doesn’t say that last part, but he wasdefinitelythinking it.
“So do you know her—Ma’at?” I ask.
Famine sighs, like I’ve missed the point completely.
“Fine, fine, forget I asked. Now, tell me her story.”
Famine’s fingers run through my hair, snagging a bit. I wonder just how frizzy my hair is going to be once he’s done.
“When the world was first spoken into creation, Ma’at was created with it. She was justice, harmony, peace and order given form—”
“So shewasa person,” I say.
“A goddess,” Famine corrects, sounding a little miffed. “And only in Egyptian religion. She was a winged woman who wore an ostrich feather in her hair, which represented the straight and true path.
“To live a life in alignment with Ma’at meant to follow the spirit and flow of the universe.”
Famine has a rich voice, one that pulls you in, and I listen, rapt, to the strange story he’s telling.
“On the day you died, ancient Egyptians believed that your heart would be weighed against the feather of Ma’at. If you had lived a good, righteous life, your heart would be found to be lighter than her feather, and you would go on to an afterlife of eternal peace.
“But if you committed great evil, your heart would reveal its wicked deeds on the scale, and it would weigh more than the feather. Rather than moving on to a blissful afterlife, your heart would be fed to Ammut, the devourer, a hideous beast, and your soul would be forced to wander the earth, restless and lost, forever.” The horseman falls silent, and I realize that’s the end of his tale.
Of course Famine would enjoy that sort of story.
“Does it really work like that?” I ask. “The afterlife?”
The Reaper pauses.
“No,” he finally says. “Not at all. Being human is all the pain and punishment a soul will ever endure. The rest … the rest is much better. But only you fool humans would somehow think otherwise.”
I let that soak in.
“That was a weird story. Why do you like it?”
Another pause, this one a bit longer. “I believe, if you think about it long enough, you’ll figure it out.”
Well, that sounds way too hard.Pass.
Chapter 25
The horseman must not move the entire night because when I wake up in the morning, I’m still asleep on his legs.
I blink, trying to focus my eyes.
“Fuckingfinally.” Famine’s voice drifts in, and blearily, I focus on him.
He stares down at me, looking very awake and very grumpy.
I sit up, shaking off the last of my sleep, then promptly groan, reaching a hand to my aching neck.
“Why didn’t you push me off of you?” I complain. I’m going to have a kink in my neckallday.
“Oh, trust me, I fantasized about it, flower.”
Now that I’m off of him, the horseman rises quickly, crossing the room like he’s trying to put as much distance between us as possible.
My eyes sweep over our surroundings, and it might not bemehe’s fleeing. In the sobering light of day, this place is far worse than it was at night. The walls are covered in rings of mold and the corners of them are home to what I hope are abandoned wasp nests. The ceiling caves in precariously, and the ground is covered in droppings.
