Page 116 of Conspirators' Kingdom

“Excuse me, but I think your hand slipped,” Mereruka growled.

Vasilisa shrugged.

“Pain helps people situate after travelling through the void.”

Mereruka raised a brow.

“And you slap Taisiya after she leaves the void?”

Vasilisa looked away, taking in the opulent room Inkaef lived in while he stayed in the palace, pointedly ignoring Mereruka as she bit back a smile.

“We should get inside that pocket realm,” she said.

Mereruka flicked her forehead in retaliation. He let his magic fan out, sensing his way along the walls and furniture for a trace of something that felt uniquely like Inkaef. Before long, he approached the invisible magical barrier that signalled the location of a pocket realm. Anchored to a golden statue of a cat, it was left out in the open. It made the pocket realm easily portable. Smart. But was its obvious location out of carelessness, or an invitation to misery? He supposed he would find out either way. There was nothing to be done but enter it. Inkaef hadn’t left his cartouche out in the open.

“Come along, and don’t wander off. Some fae are prone to leaving traps inside their pocket realms.”

Vasilisa nodded and followed him through the barrier. When they reached the other side, the realm within resembled a bright and airy house, decorated top to bottom with representations of a very fat cat. The scenery outdoors resembled that common to the delta, where Inkaef’s nome lay.

“It’s like wading through honey walking through that—good gods! Do you think he likes cats?” Vasilisa asked as she marvelled at the obscene quantity of feline depictions.

“No,” Mereruka deadpanned.

Vasilisa grinned.

“So, where do we look?”

“In an obvious place.” He lifted his chin at a nearby desk, decorated, unsurprisingly, with cat paraphernalia. The cartouche lay atop a mound of papyrus scrolls, carved into the gemstone of an oversized ring. Mereruka perused the litany of scrolls, but nothing caught his eyes save all the broken seals bearing the Vizier’s cartouche. Serfka had buried Inkaef in bureaucratic nonsense. Mereruka almost pitied him. He reached for the ring, waiting with bated breath for some kind of spell to attack him. It never came. Was Inkaef really so sloppy as to not trap his realm?

Item in hand, the hard part awaited them.

The piercing sound of shattering pottery stopped Mereruka cold. He looked over his shoulder. Vasilisa swept a number of shards under a dresser.

“I swear, it looks better now.” Vasilisa bit her lip.

“Gods below, woman, have you never robbed someone before?” Mereruka hissed.

“I’ve robbed plenty,” she replied, defensive. “The statue was precariously positioned.”

Mereruka rolled his eyes and prayed for patience. Inkaef was unlikely to notice a single broken statue, especially when he would be busy having a very bad day tomorrow. Still, it was evidence of an intrusion—one he couldn’t even conceal.

“Why don’t you just fix it with your magic?”

“It’s never wise to use magic in someone else’s realm. Even someone as unimaginative as Inkaef is smart enough to ward against such things. Let’s go.”

Vasilisa shrugged and followed Mereruka out of the pocket realm. He had only a single breath of freedom before Vasilisa pulled him into the void and through its disorienting darkness. The dim light of his rooms on the barge struck him as ungodly bright when he was free once more. Vasilisa raised her hand.

“Don’t,” Mereruka warned.

She sighed and walked away, returning shortly with a strand of hair. Inkaef’s, and a vital component for this charade.

“Tie it around my wrist. The spell will slowly leech the colour from it. When it’s turned pure white, our time is up. You remember what to do?” he asked as she tied the strand around his wrist.

Vasilisa hefted a large pot up on her shoulder and nodded.

“Fresh, sticky clay ready and waiting to cover over Khety’s cartouches.”

Mereruka nodded and pushed the complicated threads of the spell into the strand of hair. He kept the image of Inkaef in his mind’s eye as he assumed the glamour.

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