Free The Spitting Cobra by Gill Harvey

I did.’ Heria looked hurt. ‘She just says the same thing every time.’
    ‘I remember. She said it was a gift from her brother,’ Isis recalled.
    ‘Yes. And now Meretseger has punished Seti,’ said Heria, her big eyes looking sad and thoughtful. ‘So I don’t know what to think. I hate to think that either of them would do anything wrong.’
    ‘But what’s Seti got to do with Tiya?’ asked Isis.
    Now Heria’s eyes filled with astonishment. ‘You don’t know?’ she exclaimed. ‘It was Seti who gave Tiya the bracelet. He’s her brother, of course!’
    .
    The rich smell of onions was everywhere. It was the first thing that struck Hopi as he entered Rahotep’s house. Then he saw them, too – strings of onions hanging from doorways, and a whole sack by the side of the storeroom.
    A servant showed him to the back of the house. ‘You must stay very quiet and watch. Do not interrupt,’ he instructed Hopi.
    Hopi peered into the back room, which was lined with pots and jars and yet more onions; herbs were piled in one corner. A strange scene was beginning to unfold. Seti lay on the floor, his face wrapped in linen bandages; by his side lay a beaker of liquid and a large bowl. Rahotep stood over him, his arms outspread, chanting an incantation with his eyes shut.
    ‘Flow out, poison! Come forth,’ he intoned. ‘Horus will cast you out. He will spit you out and punish you. Flow out, poison! Flow out!’
    He bent down and touched Seti’s bandaged eyes, then stood and chanted again. ‘Come forth! Cast yourself upon the ground. This is not your place. Flow out, poison! Flow out!’
    Suddenly, Seti sat up, his stomach heaving. Quick as a striking snake, Rahotep reached for the bowl and placed it in front of his patient. When he had finished vomiting, Seti lay back down with a groan.
    Rahotep turned, and saw Hopi in the doorway. ‘Welcome,’ he said. He bent down to pick up the bowl and the beaker. ‘Come, we will go to the courtyard now. The potion has done its work. Seti can rest.’
    He led the way outside, handing the bowl to a servant. The beaker, however, he handed to Hopi. ‘Taste it,’ he said.
    Hopi sniffed it first. Strong, acrid smells repelled him, and he jerked back.
    ‘Go on,’ Rahotep encouraged him. ‘I want you to tell me what is in it.’
    Gingerly, Hopi took a sip. ‘Onions,’ he said. ‘Many of them. Beer, and salt. And something I don’t recognise.’ He handed the beaker back. The liquid was foul.
    Rahotep smiled. ‘The taste you cannot place is the sam -plant,’ he said. ‘But otherwise, well done. This potion makes the victim vomit, as you have seen.’
    Hopi was intrigued, but also puzzled. Why was Rahotep telling him all this?
    ‘Thank you for showing me, sir,’ he said. ‘But the party of Baki has been cancelled, and we have no reason to stay. I just wanted to see Seti before I go.’ He hesitated. ‘Will he ever get his sight back, do you think?’
    ‘That rests in the hands of the gods. Or the goddesses, I should say,’ said Rahotep. He put a hand on Hopi’s shoulder. ‘I have done all I can. But you did more.’
    Hopi blushed. He looked away, and spotted a statue of a woman in the corner of the courtyard, with the figure of a scorpion carved on her head. ‘Is that a statue of Serqet, sir?’ he asked.
    ‘It is.’
    Hopi felt drawn to the little statue, and stepped forward to look at it more closely. Its eyes seemed to meet his gaze, and he felt a warm tingle run up and down his spine.
    ‘Do you still have your amulet?’ enquired Rahotep.
    ‘Yes, of course.’ Hopi patted his linen bag, where the faience scorpion lay resting in its depths.
    The priest of Serqet smiled. ‘You did not receive it by chance,’ he said.
    Hopi felt his heart beat a little faster. ‘Then how?’
    ‘You have been chosen by the goddess to be one of her servants,’ answered the priest. ‘Of this I am more than sure.’
    Hopi’s mouth dropped open. A servant of the goddess Serqet?