One of the things Seti greatly admired about his wife was that she rarely pandered to him, portraying him neither better, nor worse, than he actually was. He could always rely on her to reflect back to him an image of himself clearer than the one that floated on the still surface of the water in his morning washing bowl.

"No," she said, after a few minutes. "I can't think of any reason why they would've chosen you, especially not for something like that."

"That makes two of us."

"Are you sure they did?" she said, a finger tapping her lips in thought. "Choose you?" 

All the way back home, first across the water on the crowded ferry and then through the streets to his quarter of the city, Seti hadn't been able to shake the feeling that his presence at the Temple of the Sky had been a colossal case of mistaken identity.

Seti, son of Amunhotep in Nubian Affairs or Seti, son of Zocher in Borderland Affairs would have been a much more likely recipient of the invitation than himself, Seti, son of Ramu, in Information Coordination. 

"It's possible a scribe somewhere wasn't careful and there was a mix up. Although, they did seem to be expecting me at the temple."

"They were expecting someone with an invitation scarab, you mean? Or you specifically?"

Seti sighed. That had been his thought exactly. 

He turned on his side and looked at Seshat lying next to him on the mattress of the low, woven-reed bed.

Her short brown hair was shiny with sweat and her tanned skin glowed in the reflected light that streamed through the high-placed slit windows of their bedroom. The day was already hot and their lovemaking had made it seem even hotter. Seti dropped a hand onto his bare hip after running it over his own sweaty face. He felt sticky, but far calmer than he had been. 

A clerical error. That was a good explanation. In fact, it was the only explanation that made complete sense. 

A grin turned up the corners of Seshat's mouth as she nudged him playfully. "But is this how a morning at one of the temples affects you? I should send you there more often, if that's the case."

"Could be. I don't know," he said, smiling back at her affectionately and then leaning over for a kiss.

He still hesitated to tell her about the rest of what had happened in the dark temple chamber. In the light of a bright, early afternoon, here in his own home, it seemed . . . a little silly. And yet, if he'd been a betting man, he'd have bet everything he owned that he'd actually seen exactly what he'd seen. He hadn't been dreaming and he was fairly certain no herbs or minerals had been burning in the braziers to make him see imaginary pictures. No, he'd seen what he'd seen. The question was, what had he seen? 

"There's more," he said, but then didn't continue.   

Seshat laughed a low, hearty laugh and propped herself up on her left arm to look at her husband. In the fourteen years of their marriage she'd got to know his quirks and moods so well she could almost predict what he would do and say when. That had come in handy many times.

"What is it you don't want to tell me?" She arched an eyebrow conspiratorially. "Do you have the sneaking suspicion that someone is up to no good again? That things on the surface are twisted mirror reflections of an intricate spider-web underneath? Is the Lord of Chaos plotting something and only you see the signs?"

"You already think I'm making it up and I haven't said anything yet."

"I never think you're making it up!" Seshat exclaimed. "I only think you see connections where there aren't any and come to incorrect, sometimes amusingly incorrect, conclusions because of it, that's all. Not everything is a product of secretive planning. Sometimes people just do things and coincidences happen." 

"I'm not always wrong," Seti replied, weakly. 

"No," Seshat agreed, her eyes twinkling with merriment. "Not always. Now, tell me what I'm not going to believe." She nudged him again playfully.

"The meeting was in the shrine of the Star of Bekumen--"

Seshat's brow immediately furrowed. "Actually in the shrine? Don't you have to be a priest or of high rank to be allowed in?"

"Exactly. And I'm neither. Point one. Point two. They said we were being shown a demonstration of the power of the Star. But if that was even true, I'm not exactly sure."  He told her about how the floating copper ball had moved around the chamber, apparently at the will of the High Priestess. 

Seshat sighed and moved to lie on her back again. "Could've easily been a trick." She reached up and wiped sweat from her forehead.  

"I know. But why use tricks on us? We're not ignorant farmers who only believe what we can taste with our mouths and touch with our hands. We're educated and informed. I can't say I know everything, far from it. But when I log a dispatch from the twelfth Nome province about a statue of Amun moving to indicate a 'yes' or a 'no' in answer to a question posed to it by a priest, I know that was done with levers and cogs. Amun had nothing to do with it. Which makes me wonder . . ."

He didn't go on.

"Wonder what?"

"What the whole show was really for. I mean. . .'what twisted mirror reflection of sinister planning,' as you put it, was I being shown." 

Seshat giggled. "Go on, husband. I'm listening."  

In a corner of the room, a solar-powered spiral revolved steadily, its vertebrae of small paddles clicked gently as it moved air through the room in an attempt to cool it before evening fell. Seti listened to the sound for a few moments before continuing.   

"I keep asking myself, why call four civil servants to a holy shrine, show them an --admittedly impressive -- demonstration that could very well be rigged, and they know that, to prove to them the Star really does have extra magical powers? And then, tell them of an adventurous mission Pharaoh himself has ordered that they could possibly be chosen to lead. And none of it appears to be based on more than an oracle prediction. And perhaps some vague news from Babylon. Which, again, doesn't have to be accurate."

"Or it could be," Seshat said, quietly. "They don't lie about everything."

"Or it could be," Seti agreed. 

"But you think they are lying."

"Well, no, they can't be lying about everything. But which parts are real and which aren't? That's the question." 

"The mission itself must be real. Otherwise, there really was no point to the show."

"A mission must be real. But not necessarily one to negotiate with foreigners for stars on some unknown island."

The memory of the cluster of black stars falling from the belly of the Sky goddess appeared in Seti's mind, as if to remind him how wrong he might be.  

For a long while, both Seti and Seshat lay quietly in their bed and listened to the sounds of their neighbourhood drifting in from outside: the shouts and calls of playing children as they ran past in the street below, a donkey braying somewhere in the distance, and the clatter of metal against metal. 

Their quarter of the city was always loud. The white-washed, mud-brick houses stood wall-on-wall with each other, only the rarest of them separated by an enclosed garden or a clump of palm trees, thick fronds splaying out like arms of praying priests.

There were other civil servants who lived with their families in nearby streets, but none of them were in Seti's department. Virtually none of his direct colleagues knew much about his private life. That was both an asset, and a potential problem.

Much like he was beginning to think this 'accidental invitation' had been. 

"Perhaps the demonstration was meant to show you something else," Seshat suggested. "Something that didn't have to do with the Star or the mission."

"Or show someone else. There was a . . . don't laugh."

"What?" 

"Don't laugh."

"I'll try not to. Tell me."

Seti hesitated. "There was someone watching us. From the dark part of the chamber. I know, I know! But whoever it was, it had to be someone important because they were trying very hard to keep our attention near the shrine. I'm beyond sure they didn't want any of us even looking in that direction."

"But you looked."

Seti nodded.

"Seti?"

"What?" he turned to look at his wife, who was grinning at him. 

"You're starting again," she said, her eyes widening in mock surprise. "The Lord of Chaos is near!"  

"I know what I saw! I heard footsteps and saw a door opening and shutting again where no one was supposed to be standing."

"Alright. My mistake," Seshat giggled.  

Seshat sat up, rocking the bed slightly, and reached for her red-and-yellow print dress that lay abandoned on the floor. She slipped it over her head and stood up, allowing the light fabric to fall until it reached her ankles.

"We both agree that you were most likely summoned by accident, yes?" she said. "So, whatever that was, or wasn't, is logically none of your business. And now, husband, I'm going to be a good wife and advise you -- as the great Ptahotep said in that book of his that good wives should -- to stop dwelling on it and put your mind back where it belongs. On your own affairs."

Plucking up both of their wigs from the bedside table where they'd been casually dropped when Seti had come home, she lay his on the bed next to him and settled hers on her own head. The thick, dyed goat hair braids ended just above her shoulders in pretty red and blue faience beads that tinkled softly when she moved. 

Seti sighed and folded his hands over his stomach. Seshat was right. It was most likely a clerical error and would be straightened out in a day or two. It had nothing to do with him, ultimately. He would most likely be ordered to keep quiet about it and told to go back to his writing mat. Which is exactly what he'd do.

But, no, something in him didn't want to let it go that easily. There were too many open questions.

Seti's job was to collect and coordinate information. He had more of an idea what was going on in the country than most, or so he liked to think. And unlike the dispatches about disgruntled peasants killing an overseer or small fires breaking out at a local festival that normally flooded his work space, this was information of national importance. 

If he just knew what parts of it to believe.  

Seti wished, not for the first time, that he had a higher rank than he did. But, his father was not a civil servant. He was a transport ship captain with no influence in the city nor at Court. Seti had had to make his own career without assistance, and although he'd done well, he was still only in the middle ranks with limited access to truly important information. 

Again, he saw the tranquil, living face of the Sky goddess turning and winking at him. Had that been a sign? Was he not to let this issue go? He wasn't actually believing, not really. Much of what the priests said went in one ear and out the other with him. But that vision. . .

"Yuya! Don't let the porridge boil over!" their neighbour from two doors down suddenly shouted into the street. A few moments later, a high-pitched shriek and a string of curses was heard that made Seti and Seshat laugh.

"Yuya is the most absentminded person I know," Seshat snickered, "she'd forget her own husband if he didn't come home every night." 

Looking at Seti, taking in his nakedness from head to foot and back again, a slow smile spread across her face. 

"But I wouldn't forget mine. Still, you might like to get up and get dressed. My sister-in-law will be here soon and the bread for tomorrow needs baking. Come downstairs when you're ready and make yourself useful."