The image shimmered and distorted the land around it, at a point close to the horizon. It looked no different than the countless other mirages Kurl-Khi'itgah and Ba-Thel had seen. The difference now was that, by their rough estimates, they should be nearing Nabta Playa, the city which they'd bought a house in. Kurl felt herself tense up slightly, in almost giddy anticipation of their new home. The two figures, clothed in dull, tan, and sandy robes, atop their grey mules, inched through the desert.
Kurl spoke.
"Bat," ('Bat' was her name for him, and it originally annoyed him. Bat is a goddess of the cosmos, and he found it strange to be compared to a goddess. But Kurl liked it, and wasn't going to stop using it.) "we're close enough that that could be the lake, aren't we?"
"Well, if you see it, then that means I'm not hallucinating, and —"
"Hah! Hallucinating. What are we, two travellers lost in the desert, dying of thirst?" She smiled and scoffed at him.
He rolled his eyes and became infected by her smile, smiling as well. "Yes, it could very well be the lake."
Presently, Kurl reached down into a pack slung over her mule, and drank water from a flask there. Then she nearly gagged on the water as a pungeunt smell drifted past their miniature caravan. Off to the right, as Bat pointed out, was what appeared to be the corpse of a lamb, burning. Not another person in sight to offer an explanation.
*****
They decided to move because the cost of living was far lower in Nabta Playa. It had a seasonal lake, which made water plentiful during the summer, when it rained. Also, most cloth and clothing had to be imported from Nubt, their previous city (which was certainly not a place to raise a child), and as tailors, they could make a slightly better living in their new city.
Bat was removing some of the smaller bits of plain, wooden furniture from their cart - two stools, two bedrolls, among other things - as Kurl was talking to Rahnd-Imahn, the merchant who rented them the mules, and travelled the first half of the trip with them. She and the merchant stood in the shade created by their new home's mudbrick face.
After paying the deposit on the mules, she idly said, "Gods help me through this."
Rahnd looked up from counting the coins. "New house? Yesss, not always easy to adjust to. Offerings to a god, yes. Offerings. Which god?" He thought for a second. "Bes, if I were you." He spoke in his usual, slightly drawling voice.
She thanked Imahn one more time before he left, said a good-bye, to which he did not respond. He merely threw one hand over his shoulder in what must have been a wave. Or something of that nature. He walked off, his odd red and purple garment swaying about him. She shrugged, thought about what he said. It wasn't for the new house she was asking for divine help. Complications in childbirth ran in her family. Complications that made her cling to Bat at three in the morning. Her aunt had died in childbirth, and her older sister.
The next morning, Bat was rearranging the furniture, muttering to himself, "No... To the left." He rotated the simple table ninety degrees, and put it where a window's light fell, scraping up the beige floor as he did so. Kurl came downstairs, a proud smile on her face.
"I just finished setting up the loom," she told Bath, awaiting an impressed look. Theirs was a complicated mechanism, that usually took both of them an hour or so to assemble.
Surpressing how impressed he actually was, he responded, "Oh, good. That's one less thing to do."
"Right. I'll just go to the local market, and find out what I can about local flax sellers." She knew he would be trying to one-up her while she was gone.
Upon paths of gritty sand Kurl walked to the market district of the city. The market was far less bustling than in Nubt, but despite fewer vibrantly dyed fabrics, and fewer aromas coming from the spice stalls, it had a homlier feel to it. The ones working the stalls were friendlier, and the faces were less monotonous, each one seeming to have some story to tell. In fact, one recognised face appeared presently, from the livestock street. His face was alight with a triumphant look, and curisoity drove her to go find out what the look was about.
"Triumph? Excitement? This isn't like Rahnd, why's he not being so monotnous?" she wondered, whilst trying to read his face.
After catching up with him, she asked, "Hey, where'd you get the mask from?" with a wry smile.
"Ohh, Kurl. I just got back — from the — from a merchant, who's just told me, yes, that the soil here. The soil here is not good for planting certain crops. It's hard to grow feed here..."
Partway through Rahnd's plodding explanation, a thought entered Kurl's mind, stage left. Sometimes she got thoughts that seemed to originate from an existence not perceivable by human senses. At least, that's how they seemed to her. And the thought was:
"What if we were to sacrifice him?"
She nodded as Rahnd seemed to be finishing up his speech. It wasn't that she hadn't been paying attention, it was just that with the thoughts turning themselves over in her head, she couldn't care less about him raising the money to move his family to Nabta Playa.
*****
Later, as the sun was bathing the town in purples an oranges, Kurl was just leaving the house of a well-off farming family, which managed several fields of flax. She'd reached an agreement in which the family would sell Kurl and Bat their flax, at prices that made her jaw drop. In the good way. Now that she'd gotten that loose end tied up, she let her thoughts stray back towards the sacrifice. She'd made up her mind, and decided to head back to the busier part of town, to the temple. She needed to sacrifice something for the childbirth. But was it okay to sacrifice a human? No doubts remained in her mind that the goddess Meskhenet would appreciate it if she did, but would the preistesses allow it?
"Bat's probably starting to wonder what's taking me so long. I'll make this as short as I can. Won't have to answer any questions then." She feared what he might say about her idea of a sacrifice.
She ventured through the market again, this time in the direction of the government buildings, where the temple was located. It was bigger than any of the buildings surrounding it, and more decorated; a floral pattern was inlaid in its front pillars, made to look like emerald. Of course, it probably would have been cheaper to actually use emerald. Some of the market buildings were growing larger, as well. The temple would have competition soon.
By the time she was nearing the temple, employees of the oldest profession were beginning to show themselves. Kurl hurried. Worse than the employees were the clients.
"Still," she thought,
"this isn't half as bad as Nubt would get." She was nearly to the temple now.
Inside the temple, which was lit by oil lamps in a romantic manner, Kurl found one of the priestesses. She was clad in garments of linen finer than Kurl and Bat had ever made.
"Doing the gods' will pays, naturally."
"Em hotep nefer," said the priestess, in greeting.
"Em hotep," Kurl replied. "I've come here for advice. I'm pregnant."
"Meskhenet's blessing is upon you, then. I suppose you're wondering how to make it go smoothly?"
"Yes. What can I sacrifice to please Meskhenet?"
Without changing the blank expression on her face, the priestess responded, "A ewe is best for Meskhenet, but if you can only acquire a calf, then it will suffice."
"And... What if all we can acquire is a person? Don't get me wrong, it'd be a good, bright m—" But the priestess cut her off, her bored expression changed into shock.
"Meskhenet is a goddess of life, and creation! You're not going to sacrifice a human. That's a sure way to incur her wrath. Now leave. Waste no more of my time."
Seething, Kurl left.
"Why would Meskhenet prefer an animal life over a human life? It's nonsense!" On the way back, she had to deal with no creatures of the night. Just the look on her face kept them away. She got home to Bat pacing back and forth, who both wanted to kill and cuddle Kurl.
"Where have you been, Kurl? All night?"
Snapping back at him, she said, "I was at the temple. Meskhenet's. Seeing what we could sacrifice to make the birth" (she was just barely beginning to show her pregnancy) "go smoother."
"Okay. You didn't tell me you were going anywhere. I assume this was on one of your whims? Nevermind. What did you find out on your little mission?" He still looked cross.
She wondered if it would be safe to tell him what, or rather, who she'd been thinking of sacrificing. But... She'd have to. Soon.
"He could, and I think, would help me."
Kurl sighed. Bat looked at her expectantly.
"I... was thinking of a sacrifice. To help with the childbirth. I went to the temple of Meskhenet to ask a priestess what kind of animal would be acceptable. Orrr... If we could sacrifice Rahnd since he's a smart enough man despite the oddities and—" She spewed the last part out, and stopped talking before she could do more damage.
Bat scowled. Kurl waited for him to explode (which would be the first time he did so.)
After a bit, he spoke calmly. "I don't see why not."
In a daze, Kurl followed Bat outside. He was muttering to himself, "This'd be great... Raise to be a great kid... How do we get Rahnd where we need him?" He led them up to the astronomic calendar near their house. About twenty-nine massive, rectangular-chiseled rocks in a circle, aligned with various parts of the year. Solstices, equinoxes, and points in between would have the sun rise and set between specific stones. There were several stones in the centre that aligned with certain stars, but neither of the two knew exactly how those worked. They sat atop one of the shorter stones, watching the stars. Bat had one arm around her shoulders, the other resting where their baby was slowly beginning to show itself.
"The summer solstice is soon. Three days," Bat said.
"That night will be the best time to sacrifice Rahnd."
"And then we'll have a beautiful child."
They sat and watched the skies unfold themselves, cascading over the slate of night. After many uncounted minutes passed, Bat got up, promising a quick return. He walked calmly down the moon and starlit slope, covered in sparse grass, and down the road to their new home, where he found a sacrificial knife his father had given him. He returned with it.
"My father gave this to me, and I forgot about it until now. I wasn't as spiritual back then, and had just put it some place where I thought I'd forget about it."
"A sacrificial knife? It'll work great." She paused. "Also, what do you think we should name the child?"
A neighbour of theirs happened to look out at the newest addition to their street, stargazing atop one of the megaliths that made up the astral calendar. All he could think was,
"They'll make great parents."