“Interesting,” I murmured, now more focused on the man beside me than on the statue.
“Yes. When the eyebrows grew back, the time of mourning was considered over.”
“So seeing as how you are a bird now, are you a cat lover or a cat hater?” I asked, standing up at the same time as Amon.
“I am neither, I suppose.”
Boldly, I reached up to trace one of his eyebrows. “Have you ever loved something enough to shave your brows in mourning?”
Amon captured my wrist and, gently lowering my arm, replied softly, “To come to love something that much would seem a cruel twist of fate for one who spends much of his existence in the Land of the Dead.”
“I guess that would be true.” Uncomfortable, I stood and walked the length of the shelf as if examining the artifacts, when instead I was contemplating Amon’s very strange life. “Where do you go?” I asked quietly. “When you aren’t here on Earth, I mean?”
Amon sighed. “It is best not to speak of it, Lily.”
“But I need to understand. I need to know why you make all these sacrifices. I need to know if you’re—”
“If I am what?”
“If you’re happy there.”
Rubbing his hand through his hair and cupping the back of his neck, Amon answered, “I am not…unhappy.”
“That’s pretty vague.”
“The explanation is difficult.”
“Please try.”
After thinking for a moment, Amon began. “When my everlasting body becomes a…mummy, my ka, or soul, departs and must walk the path of the afterlife. My heart is not weighed on the scales of judgment like those who have gone before me because my stay in the afterlife is not permanent. Not yet. Though it is lonely, I drift through the centuries in relative comfort.”
“What do you mean, ‘relative’?”
“I am allowed to spend time with my brothers, but because we are bound to the service of Egypt, we are not given leave to retrieve our bodies and reunite with our loved ones. Instead, we pass the years acting as guardians to the gates of the afterlife.”
“So there isn’t an Egyptian version of heaven you go to?”
“I do not understand ‘heaven.’?”
“Like a paradise—a place where you can kick your feet up and relax and enjoy your death?”
“No. Not for my brothers and me. Perhaps, one day, when our work is completed, we might be able to rest from our labors.”
“You sure got the short end of the stick when they were handing out pseudo-Egyptian-god duties. Isn’t there any room for love in Egyptian heaven?”
“I love my brothers.”
“That isn’t the kind I’m talking about.”
Amon remained quiet for a moment, and I wondered if he was even going to answer me, when he picked up a small carving and twisted it between his hands. “Do you know the story of Geb and Nut?” he asked.
“No.”
“Geb was god of Earth and Nut was goddess of the sky. Rough and thick-muscled, Geb was immovable and steady, like Earth itself. Nut was lithe and beautiful. Stars and constellations adorned her skin, and her hair floated about her form.
“When they saw one another, they fell deeply in love, and Geb was determined that they be together. Nut whispered her vows and sent them to Geb on the tails of comets. In reply, Geb stretched out his arms as far as they would go and finally grasped her fingers. Using his powerful form, Geb called upon Earth’s gravity, and slowly, the two came together, though they knew their love was forbidden.”
“Why was it forbidden?”
“That part comes later. Though I know you have as many questions as the stars, try to content yourself to listen till the end.”
I smirked. “You know me so well.”
“Yes. I do.”
“I’ll try. But I make no promises.”