The sun sank into the western sands. Depending on which village one were to ask, this could be attributed to a great riverboat ferrying it across the sky, a giant eagle who held it in his talons, a dung beetle pushing it along for reasons best left unconsidered, or the simple trajectory of its motion, as the camels taught in their great sandstone academies. According to the humped mathematicians, each day saw a new sun crafted by unicorns far to the east and launched in an arc, inevitably plummeting into the far western oceans where it was extinguished.
The sphinx Catshepsut cared little about the true nature of the sun beyond its possible use in a riddle. Her thoughts did tarry briefly on the subject of camels. They always made for entertaining targets; their logical minds struggled with metaphor and wordplay, making each one a delightful display of shattering pride as they succumbed to her brilliance. But she could have her way with them another day. What mattered now was ensuring that her true prize wasn’t lost after that interloper with the blindfold nearly ruined everything.
Yes, their agreement was that Catshepsut would leave the kingdom forevermore. But this was her temple, her lair drawn up from the sands by powers the ponies could not even begin to comprehend. She would gladly relinquish it to them once she was finished, but until that time, she remained in her kingdom, and the compact was unbroken.
Down into the main chamber she plummeted, the souls of less clever ponies glowing like embers to provide what little light she needed. Oh, would that she could have kept Hisan’s, but his spirit, his name, his life… Much as it raised her hackles, the sphinx had to admit that brave little Somnambula had successfully bargained for all of them. Twice over, no less.
Yet Catshepsut could not help but grin as she grabbed a sarcophagus off of a recessed ledge built above the chamber’s ground-level entrance, sunken and hidden such that no pony could hope to see it at ground level. There was still one part of the prince that the little heroine had not named in her dealings. One part she no doubt thought she did not need to. Hisan had been right in front of her, after all.
Catshepsut savored the irony. Hope empowered that little pony, yes, but it blinded her as surely as any length of fabric.
She lifted the lid. The sarcophagus itself was plain; even she had had little time to carve it, much less embellish it. That could come later. What mattered now was the form within, wrapped in linen and preserved with natron. Even through the bandages, one could make out the noble snout, the powerful limbs, the broad wings pressed tight against the body.
Let Somnambula run away with her prize, her prince formed from sand and dander to hold a soul Catshepsut did not need. Let Hisan spend his days wondering why he could never sire an heir with his bride-to-be (That much was obvious; pony hearts were laughably simple puzzles by the standards of a sphinx.) All that mattered was that she had an example of the fate that awaited those who opposed her. For that, the true body was all she needed.
A cartouche of glowpaz upon the sternum was all it took to make the mummy shudder and stir, the mineral’s unique properties endowing it with a mockery of life. The sphinx didn’t have to say anything, her very will enough to guide the desecrated figure onto her back, just as the fitfully glowing spirits gathered around like a herd of lost stars.
Catshepsut grinned. This was a fittingly brilliant solution to the problem. The heroine won, the prince was freed, and she could find another land to terrorize. Everyone won, and she won the most, exactly as it should be.
She spread her wings and left the temple for the last time, her captives in tow. The agreement finally began to weigh on her mind now that she had sincerely abandoned her claim to the place, but that was of little concern. Not when she was already flying south, past the desert and into lands she’d only heard about through story and rumor.
It was time to see just how clever those “zebras” really were.
Math Camels! Discworld ref?
...
Well, well, that is interesting. Exact words and cultural context! niiice!
11205077
Given the name of Luna's retainer elsewhere in FoME-Space, most likely.
(For the record, it was Guarding Dark)
I'm not sure I get it, but I'm notoriously dense on certain subjects. Still haunting in all the right ways :)
You need to capitalize the 't' in 'they'.
Is this a reference to a certain bit of the Osiris myth? I'd have to think Somnambula would notice that missing fairly quickly.
It occurs to me that the Sphinx may have been in serious trouble if the whole mess with the Pony of Shadows hadn't happened. Somnambula as part of the Pillars knew the world's greatest healer, the world's greatest scholar, and two of its greatest archmages. Odds are she would have asked one of them to look into Hisan's condition at some point. I suspect it is no more possible to hide from Somnambula than it is her successor Pinkie Pie.
11205077 11205098
Darn it, I knew I forgot to credit someone.
11205872
Oh, Catshepsut remembered that detail. But it's shooting blanks.
11206410
Yeah, she didn't plan that far ahead. If you can actually outscheme a sphinx, they never see it coming. Really, she owes Stygian a great deal of thanks.