Scroll Of Saqqara Part 23

"But I do not understand," the mayor said. "I believed from your father's new scribe that the Prince had changed his mind and did not require the information anymore. So sad about the young man's father."

"Yes, it was," Hori agreed. "And the Prince has changed his mind again, n.o.ble One. Do not be distressed. I shall not trouble you for long."

He was not able to be alone for some time. He was shown his quarters-a small room with an open entrance to the garden-and here he stationed one guard. Then he was obliged to take refreshments with the mayor and his family. After the conventions of polite conversation he asked the mayor if he was acquainted with all the n.o.ble families in the surrounding area.

The mayor nodded. "The Osiris One Penbuy asked me the same question," he replied. "Koptos is a small town and our n.o.bility, though all minor, does not travel much nor many too far afield. Their lineages vary in length from four generations to ancestors in direct line lost in the depths of time past, but I know them all." He gave Hori an oblique look. "I have never heard of the three people whose history you seek, Highness. Nor is there an estate run by a steward whose master has moved to Memphis. I can only suggest that you consult the librarian in the Koptos House of Life."

"You are sure that all estates are occupied by their owners?"

"Yes. The desert encroaches very quickly here, Prince, and the inhabited places are close together along the riverbank. Only one estate is unoccupied, but it has been so for many hentis. The house is little more than crumbling outlines of walls in the sand, and apart from some pieces of a stone fountain, the garden is nothing but desert. I believe that the line died out and the property. reverted to Pharaoh. I suppose he has no personal interest in it at all and hesitates to award so poor a property to any deserving minister." He smiled, and Hori found himself warming to the man. "Koptos is hardly the paradise of the blessed!"

"All the same, a man might find peace of mind here," Hori said slowly. "I wish to examine this derelict estate. Where is it?"

"To the north, beyond the last irrigation ca.n.a.l," the mayor said. "But I humbly suggest to your Highness that you wait until the cool of the evening to inspect it."

Hori rose and the whole family rose also and bowed. "I shall do so," Hori said gravely. "Now I must rest."

He and Antef escaped, Hori to the couch and Antef to a mat on the floor of the little room. Antef soon fell asleep, but Hori lay listening to that intriguing silence. Its quality seemed familiar. He heard footsteps in the garden outside, and then voices, and he recognized the lilt of the daughter of the house.

"... He is very handsome and not at all arrogant," she was saying to some unknown friend. "Of course one may not touch him because he is Pharaoh's grandson, but I long to do so..."

Hori smiled, turned over and fell asleep.

Several hours later, with Ra already a semicircle of shimmering red on the horizon, he and Antef stood above what had once been a set of watersteps, looking away from the river towards the eastern desert. Between them and the flat, beige plain that ended in a purple sky were the remains of what had once been a n.o.bleman's home.

Of the house, built originally of mud bricks, nothing was left but a few vague outlines in the sand. The watersteps had been irregular chunks of yellowed stone, warped and then pushed upward into jagged teeth through which the two of them had picked their way carefully.

From the top of the stair they felt rather than saw the short, buried path leading to what would have been the entrance hall. Their feet, as they moved tentatively forward, found the firmness of the stone, and Antef knelt briefly to brush away the encroaching granules, finding smooth sandstone lying beneath. Hori had halted and Antef came up beside him "The entrance hall, a rear pa.s.sage and at least two bedchambers," Hori said, pointing. "The compound with the storage huts and the kitchens and servants' quarters has been entirely taken over by the desert. Now where is the fountain the mayor spoke of?"

They picked their way gingerly around the faint hills and tunnels that delineated what had once been st.u.r.dy walls, probably painted a dazzling white; now they made an intricate pattern of small shadows as the sun sank lower beyond the river.

Not far to the north they came across the thing they sought. The fountain lay in four grey pieces, the basin cracked and sifted with sand, the spout, once a pleasing likeness of the many-breasted Hapi, G.o.d of the Nile, broken and littered on the ground. Five or six stunted sycamores struggled to suck an existence out of the soil where the edge of the garden obviously used to be, and a few sorry palms raised rusty arms beyond them. Antef shuddered. "What a sad, desolate place!" he exclaimed. "This estate has not been scoured of its ghosts, Highness. I would not dare to try and rebuild on this spot!"

Hori hushed him with a wave of his hand and stood concentrating, all his senses alert. It seemed to him that he had been here before, although he knew such a thing was impossible. The layout of the ancient rooms, now simply lumps in the earth, the placement of the garden with its sycamores that once must have been spreading green glories, the palm forest beyond ...

But no, he thought, allowing the melancholy of the hour to enter him. It is not a matter of the physical, this sense of familiarity. It is in the atmosphere of the ruins, challenging and yet quiet, dreamless and yet demanding something ... something ...

Then he knew. Tbubui's house in Memphis, compact, slightly derelict, isolated, had this same quality of plumbless silence and watchful invitation. O Thoth have mercy, he thought. Is this it? Is this, was this, her home? Hapi's disfigured face smiled up at him blankly, idiotically, from the churned sand at his feet. The gnarled sycamores were casting twisted shadows that snaked towards him as Ra quivered, pulsed, and slipped below the western horizon in his journey to the underworld. "Antef!" he called, a quiver of hysteria in his voice. "I have seen enough. Let us go."

They made their way carefully back to the broken water-steps and Hori took the oars of the mayor's skiff himself, pulling frenetically away from the sad and broken site almost before Antef had been seated.

"This cannot be right, Highness," Antef said. "We must explore further."

"That will be your job," Hori replied. "I want you to visit every n.o.ble family in Koptos and discuss their histories. I will be in the library." But he knew in his heart that it was was right, that this lonely place had belonged to Tbubui and no other. right, that this lonely place had belonged to Tbubui and no other.

He and Antef spent a pleasant few hours at dinner with the mayor. The man was proud of his position and took a delight in recounting the town's history, from the days when the great Queen Hatshepsut had rediscovered the ancient trade routes with Punt that had revitalized the town to the present, when the caravan routes were well established and decidedly mundane.

"What family has the monopoly on the taxes gathered from the caravans?" Hori asked. "Or do they belong to the town as a whole?"

The mayor smiled, pleased to find an interested listener. "In the days of the great Queen, when the route was first re-opened," he explained, "the concession was given to one Nenefer-ka-Ptah for some service now lost to antiquity. The mighty Queen, an admirer of enterprise, made him a prince. Under his hand the caravans prospered and she was well pleased with him. It is said that he acquired great wealth and became a famous wizard and magician, as well as an astute businessman, but that is not for me to judge. His line did not last. The monopoly on the trade with Punt reverted to the Horus Throne and so it is to this day!" He sipped his wine with relish. His daughter and his wife watched him, smiling, obviously used to his hobby. "Pharaoh, your grandfather, always allows the town a generous reduction in its taxes to the crown," he went on, "and of course we live in hope that the monopoly will not eventually go to one individual family. Koptos is peaceful and prosperous as it is."

"Why did Nenefer-ka-Ptah's line not last?" Hori asked. "Did the Prince's offspring fall out of favour with the Divine One?"

"Oh no," the mayor a.s.sured him. "The line died out literally. Nenefer-ka-Ptah and his wife drowned, I believe, and so did their only son Merhu." He shrugged. "Such is the will of the G.o.ds."

Her husband drowned, Hori thought, then mentally shook himself. "Such misfortune could be regarded as a punishment from the G.o.ds," he commented. "Their will for a family that had transgressed the laws of Ma'at."

The mayor shrugged. "Who knows?" he said. "It was many hentis ago and has little to do with the reason you are here in Koptos, Highness. I wish I could help you more."

"Your hospitality is enough," Hori rea.s.sured him. "Tomorrow I will begin my investigations in the House of Life. I will not impose on you for long, n.o.ble One."

Amid mutual protestations of respect Hori presently withdrew. He and Antef spent a little time talking together in their quarters as the night deepened, but Hori could not keep his mind on what was being said, and before long their conversations died away. Antef stretched out on his mat and was soon breathing softly and evenly in sleep.

Hori reached to the small leather pouch he had taken to wearing tied to his belt, and opening it, he withdrew the earring he had found in the tomb tunnel. She loved it, he thought sadly. She put it on and laughed and it swung against her tall neck. What is she doing now? Is she crouched in the darkness with cruel pins in her hands, intent on the incantation of my destruction? What did she steal that was mine? Tbubui, Tbubui, I would have nurtured you and kept you safe no matter who you are. He did not want to cry but the tears slid soundlessly down his cheeks. He felt very young, and very helpless.

Early the next day Antef set off with a scroll of introduction bearing Hori's seal to politely interrogate Koptos's ruling families, and Hori made his way to the House of Life, attached to the temple of Amun. The library proved to be a pleasant four rooms, one opening into another, with the far walls pillared so that any breeze might funnel right through. Each room was honeycombed with tiny cubicles crammed with scrolls of every size and description, and before he began his work Hori was escorted through the building by the priest-librarian.

"I was on duty here when your father's scribe died on the steps, Highness," he remarked to Hori as they sat in an alcove. "He had been a regular visitor for four days prior to being struck down. Indeed, that very morning he had told me that he was about to dictate his findings to his a.s.sistant."

"How did he seem?" Hori asked, and the librarian frowned.

"He seemed afraid. A curious word to choose, but that was the impression he gave me. He was obviously ill, but as well as his physical discomfort there appeared to be some grave matter on his mind. He was a good scholar."

"Yes, he was," Hori agreed, a wave of fear washing over him too, as though in sympathy with the dead Penbuy. "I would like you to bring me all the scrolls he examined, but first, tell me about the man who was given the caravan monopoly during the reign of Queen Hatshepsut."

The librarian's face lightened. "Ah, Highness! How good to speak to someone who even knows the name of that Osiris One! We have her very seal here, in this library, affixed to a doc.u.ment giving the monopoly personally to the man you mentioned. Osiris Penbuy wanted to see it also."

"Did he indeed?" Hori said thoughtfully. "And what of that man's lineage? Where do his descendants live?"

The librarian shook his head. "There were no descendants. The inhabitants of Koptos believed that the man was cursed. I do not know what for. Remember, Highness, that we are talking of events that took place many hentis ago. But he, his wife and his son drowned, the Prince and his wife in the river at Memphis, and the son a few days later, here at Koptos. It is in the records. The son, Merhu, was buried here."

"And the parents?" Hori could feel his muscles tensing. I do not want to hear this, he thought in dread. The mayor knew a little, but this man knows it all. Amun, I do not want to know it all!

"They inhabit a tomb on the Saqqara plain at Memphis," the librarian said cheerfully. "The remains of their estate are just north of Koptos and in total ruin. No one in this town will go there. They say the site is haunted."

Hori's chest felt as though a band had been tightened around it. "I saw it yesterday," he managed. "Their names?"

"The Prince Nenefer-ka-Ptah, the Princess Ahura and his Highness Merhu." The librarian, seeing Hori's face, quickly poured him water. Hori forced it to his lips and drank. "Highness, what is wrong?" the man inquired.

"I have been in their tomb," Hori whispered. "The Princess Ahura. That is the only surviving identification in the place. My father excavated there."

"The mighty Khaemwaset has done much restoring of ancient monuments," the librarian commented. "But how interesting! The selfsame tomb! And by accident?"

By accident? Hori thought with a shudder. Who knows? O G.o.ds, who knows?

"Yes," he answered. "But before you ask, my friend, we did not find anything to enhance your knowledge of the period. Where is the son buried?"

"In the Koptos necropolis," the librarian replied promptly. "The tomb was rifled hentis ago and nothing of value remains in it, but his Highness is still there. At least, he was the last time I conducted an inspection of n.o.ble tombs for the Mighty Bull. The lid had been wrenched from the coffin and was standing against a wall, but the young man's corpse had been correctly beautified and was lying within."

"Young man?" Hori had needed several tries to get the words out.

"Yes. Merhu was only eighteen years old when he drowned," the librarian said, adding anxiously. "Highness, are you sure you are quite well?"

Hori barely heard the question. "I would like to visit this tomb," he said. "It is imperative that I see the body."

The librarian looked at him curiously. "Your exalted position frees you from seeking the required permission, Highness," he said. "The tomb is sealed and the entrance filled with rubble, but a day's digging would free it."

"Did Penbuy ask to have the tomb opened?"

"Yes he did," the librarian said reluctantly. "On the morning he died. Highness, do not be offended if I ask, what is it that you seek?"

I seek the truth, and I am finding something more horrible than I could possibly have imagined, Hori thought. Aloud he said, "I am not offended, but I cannot tell you. Think carefully. There was no issue? No descendants?"

"None," the librarian said firmly.

"Very well." Hori rose, then settled himself behind the table. "Bring me the scrolls, and while I am reading, send to whatever workmen's village exists in Koptos. I want that tomb exposed by tonight. Will you accompany me, and re-seal it when I am done? You see ..." He paused, suddenly aware of the earring nestling in its pouch against his thigh. "A certain lady claims to be the descendant of this Nenefer, and thus of n.o.ble blood."

The librarian was already shaking his head vigorously. "Impossible, Highness. Completely impossible. She is a charlatan. The ancient records exist here unbroken. Nenefer-ka-Ptah's line died out with his son Merhu."

Hori dismissed him and waited. Presently the librarian returned with an armful of scrolls, which he laid before the Prince. "My records show that Penbuy consulted all these," he said. "They cover the period ten years before and fifty after the lives of the people you are researching. Would your Highness like refreshment?" Hori nodded absently and began to unroll the first scroll. When the librarian returned with a slave bearing water, wine and pastries, he did not hear, although some time later he ate and drank unconsciously.

He read quickly but carefully, and as he did so his apprehension grew. The Prince Nenefer-ka-Ptah's grandfather had come to Koptos during the reign of Osiris Thothmes the First, Queen Hatshepsut's father, as an Inspector of Monuments. His father had continued in the position and then Nenefer-ka-Ptah himself, upon his father's untimely death, had been confirmed in it. The dates and brief, factual entries reeled slowly under Hori's baffled gaze. Nenefer-ka-Ptah had been somehow involved in the great Queen's audacious expedition to Punt, a land whose whereabouts had been lost until that time, and his service had been rewarded with an hereditary t.i.tle and the caravan monopoly when regular trade began with Punt for myrrh and other exotic necessities. Five years later all three of them had died. The dates of their deaths were meticulously recorded. Also the date their holdings reverted to the Horus Throne. The symbol for "ending" had been placed after the entry recording the drownings, signifying that the line had died out with them.

More rapidly now, Hori scanned the other scrolls. No off-spring, no heirs, not even any claims on their property by close relatives. They had appeared out of nowhere and vanished back into oblivion. Penbuy had also consulted several scrolls to do with local folklore, and with a sigh Hori sipped more wine and pulled them towards him. The afternoon was advancing and the heat had intensified, but with it had come a hot breeze that ruffled his hair and stirred his kilt and he was not too uncomfortable. He began to read.

He had not gone far into the second scroll when he found the reason why the people of Koptos believed the ancient Prince to have been under a curse and his property haunted. "It was rumoured," he read, "that this Prince had in his possession the magic Scroll of Thoth. How he came by it is not told, but he was already a cunning wizard when he found it, and through its power he became invincible. But Thoth, angered by his arrogance, decreed that he should be cursed and should die by drowning, and his ka should not rest."

"I see you have progressed into the area of myth and folklore," a voice spoke at his elbow, and Hori jumped, but it was only the librarian. "Such stories always spring up around tragic and mysterious family events, and there has never been much else to do here on hot summer nights but recount legends. At least among the commoners." Hori stared up at him, disoriented. It cannot be, his mind was saying over and over again. It cannot be, cannot be, cannot be ... But in his imagination he saw his father raise the knife and callously cut away a scroll from a dead man's hand ... saw the drops of Khaemwaset's blood fall on the desiccated hand and one sully the scroll itself as he hurriedly plied the needle, panic making his fingers shake. It must not be, Hori thought, for if it is, we have entered a realm of nightmare where we are worse than impotent, where death cannot be contained but stalks among us masquerading as life, and we are tainted and corrupted beyond the power of any G.o.d to save us.

"The workmen are already at the site," the librarian was saying. "I have a.s.signed two temple guards to oversee them and have promised them a generous amount of food and beer for their labours. I trust your Highness will see to it."

Hori came to his feet. The action seemed to take a long time. "Of course," he said, amazed that he sounded so normal. "I have read all I need. I want to take these scrolls back to Memphis with me."

But the librarian bowed and refused. "I am deeply sorry, Highness. Such a thing is completely forbidden. Have your scribe come and copy them during your stay."

That will not do, Hori thought. I do not want to show my father something written in Antef's hand. I will not be believed. I still find it difficult to believe myself. But one look at the librarian's pleasant but adamant face convinced him that the man would not be bribed or persuaded. He is correct, Hori told himself. My father would never allow such a thing either. "In that case, my scribe will appear tomorrow to attempt the task," he said. "I thank you for your a.s.sistance here, and for re-sealing the tomb when I am done. I will meet you here at sunset and you will take me to the place."

He spent a few moments more talking to the man, but later could not remember what had been said. Then he left, walking out into the blinding afternoon. How long did it take you to arrive at the conclusion that is now threatening my own reason? he silently asked Penbuy as he got on the litter waiting for him. You had almost finished the task, and I reap the benefits of your meticulous digging. What did you think, little scribe? Were you as unbelieving, yet as terrified as I am?

He tried to smile, and at that moment the first pain hit him without warning, ripping through his abdomen so that he doubled over on the cushions, gasping, sweat springing from his forehead. No! he whispered, knees pressed to his chin, fists crammed against his stomach. Thoth, have mercy, I cannot take this agony, help me, help me! Then the spasm abated and he went limp, lying behind the curtains with eyes closed, panting. Tbubui, he cried out silently. Have pity on me. If you must slay me then wait. Do it with a knife, a poisoned cup, have me strangled in my bed, but do not subject me to this filthy, evil thing.

Another wave of pain came and he could not help tensing against it until his muscles themselves became a source of anguish, quivering and locked. She does not need to kill me, he thought, teeth jammed together, lips drawn back in a rictus of uncontrollable pain. It does not matter what I bring back from here. She will deny everything, make up a lie, and Father will believe her. No. She wants wants to kill me. She wants me to die. to kill me. She wants me to die.

The pain slowly lessened but it did not go away. The pin stays in the figure, he thought hysterically. Stab it in with a sure hand, then grind it into the wax and leave it there to weaken and debilitate the victim. Carefully he straightened, wincing with every movement, and cupped his hands over his throbbing abdomen. It will get no better, he told himself grimly. It will keep throbbing but it will not go away. He felt for his amulet, the one he sometimes wore as a counterweight for his pectoral and sometimes affixed to a bracelet, but his groping fingers found the earring instead and he did not have the strength to let it go.

He went directly to his room in the mayor's house, and collapsing onto the couch he managed to drift into an uneasy sleep. He woke some time later to find Antef bending over him, a worried look on his face. Reaching out, Hori grasped his friend's hand. "Bring the mayor's physician, Antef," he begged. Antef, after one horrified word Hori could not catch, ran out the door. While he waited, Hori sank and rose in and out of a drowse, his consciousness geared to the ebb and flow of the pain. He struggled to sit up when the physician approached the couch with the mayor and Antef behind him "I am Prince Hori, son of the physician Prince Khaemwaset," he whispered. "I do not need to be examined. I am suffering from a disease of the abdomen that cannot be treated, but I beseech you to brew me a strong infusion of poppy, enough for several weeks."

"Your Highness," the physician objected, "if I do this without examining you, and I put it into your hands, you may drink too much of it at once and die. I do not wish to take that responsibility."

And neither does the mayor, Hori thought, seeing the man's expression as he hovered beside Antef. "Then place it in the hands of my servant," he suggested, gathering all his strength to simply spit out the words. "I have work to do here, and if I am prostrate with pain I cannot do it. I will dictate a scroll absolving both you and the mayor from any responsibility regarding my condition if you wish."

Both men looked relieved, then ashamed. "Highness, if you had told me about this I would have appointed my physician to be with you day and night," the mayor expostulated. "I have been lax in my duty. I apologize."

"It is not your fault!" Hori cried out with the last of his energy. "Just do as I ask! Antef, see to it!" He closed his eyes and rolled over, away from them. He heard Antef usher them out, and then he must have lost consciousness, for his next awareness was of his friend raising his head and pressing a cup to his mouth. The poppy smelled rank. He sipped at it as cautiously as he could, and when it had gone he motioned for Antef's arm. "Help me to sit up," he said. Antef did so, then lowered himself onto the couch. Hori could feel him watching speculatively.

"What is it, Hori?" he asked soberly.

Hori had never heard Antef use his name before, and he felt a rush of love for Antef's reliability, his unquestioning loyalty. "She is trying to kill me," he said. "She will succeed, but not before I get home, Antef. I must get home!"

"You will," Antef promised grimly. "Tell me what to do."

"Go to the House of Life immediately, this evening. Leave me the poppy. I promise I will not drink it all." It was starting to dull the pain now, but it was dulling his thoughts also, and he fought its soporific effect. "The librarian will have left out some scrolls for you. Copy them as quickly as you can and do not return here until you have done so. I must get to the tomb tonight. Did you learn anything today?"

"No, only that no one to whom I spoke had ever heard of Tbubui, Sisenet, or Harmin."

"I expected nothing else." Hori pushed himself up and swung his legs to the floor. "Go and do what I have asked, Antef. Get a guard in here to help me. I had thought to be more careful in my research but I am running out of time. We must go home as soon as possible."

He sent a servant to decline the mayor's offer of a feast with entertainment, knowing that he was bewildering and probably disappointing the man and his family. Then, supported by the burly shoulder of one of his guards, he made his way out, through the long, hot shafts of red light cast by the setting sun, to the litter.

The short journey to the library was uneventful and the effects of the poppy were at their greatest, but every jolt of the swaying vehicle sent a stab of agony through his vitals. He managed a few words with the librarian and then lay dozing, allowing his bearers to follow the librarian's litter. Time seemed more fluid, less measurable. It seemed to him that he had been carried for many hours, that his dreams were melting into the reality of the heat and movement of an everlasting present, but the litter was eventually set down and Hori drew the curtains to see the soldier waiting to a.s.sist him.

The Koptos necropolis was like a miniature Saqqara, an arid, sandy plateau dotted with little pyramids, mounds, broken pillars and half-buried causeways leading to nowhere. The librarian, to his credit, did not exclaim over Hori's condition. He led the way to a pile of dark, damp earth and a mere three steps leading to a half-submerged rock door. The shadows of evening had already gathered around it as though begging to be let in, and in spite of his enforced self-absorption Hori shuddered.

He stood leaning against his soldier, a slave holding a flaming torch nearby, and watched while the librarian bent over the imprinted circle of mud and wax that held the knotted cord around the metal hooks. Then the man exclaimed and turned to Hori. "This is definitely the seal I imprinted myself when I last inspected the tomb," he said, "but it has been broken. Look."

Hori peered at it as it lay in the man's palm. Half of it had fallen away and the cord hung precariously from one of the hooks. With a slight tug on the librarian's part, the rope came away altogether and he dropped it at their feet. "Someone has forced an entry here," he said roughly. "The Overseer of Workmen told me that the sand was extremely light, not heavy and tamped down at all, and I thought nothing of it. But now ..." He put his shoulder against the door and it shifted, swinging inward with a mild groan.

The depth of earth covering the steps would hardly come up to my knees, Hori thought distantly. Could a man, could a thing, thing, dig upward through it and then turn to push it all back again? My dear librarian, I fear that someone forced an exit, not an entry. He suppressed a desire to burst into wild laughter. The laws of Ma'at have been abrogated, he thought, and we now inhabit a world where anything may happen. Anything at all. He followed the librarian and the slave into the narrow darkness beyond. dig upward through it and then turn to push it all back again? My dear librarian, I fear that someone forced an exit, not an entry. He suppressed a desire to burst into wild laughter. The laws of Ma'at have been abrogated, he thought, and we now inhabit a world where anything may happen. Anything at all. He followed the librarian and the slave into the narrow darkness beyond.

The tomb was not large. It consisted of one room with a raised dais in the centre, on which the coffin rested. The torch flared and steadied, and, light-headed with pain and with the deadening effects of the poppy, Hori looked about him. Water, he thought immediately as the angry red light picked out the wealth of decorations on the walls. Water and more water. Amun, where are you? Thoth, where is your clemency? Oh my poor family, my father, little Sheritra, my good and honourable mother. What have we done to deserve this? The walls seemed to undulate with the slow rippling of a quiet Nile on a hot, sleepy afternoon. Water under the young man's feet, water under his couch, water in which the many baboons depicted were sporting, water in his cup, spilling into his white lap, pouring out of his mouth, dripping from his black hair.

The librarian had rushed to the dais and mounted it. He was peering into the coffin and Hori thought wearily, Do not bother. The body is not there. It It is in Memphis. It smiles and frowns, it simulates sleep and seeks the sun to heat its icy body. It holds Sheritra ... makes love to Sheritra ... is in Memphis. It smiles and frowns, it simulates sleep and seeks the sun to heat its icy body. It holds Sheritra ... makes love to Sheritra ...

"This is terrible!" the librarian was lamenting. "The corpse has gone! What fiend would steal a princely corpse? And why? There will be an investigation, I promise you, Highness!"

Hori staggered towards the dais. He did not want to, but he knew that he must see for himself. With an effort he negotiated the stone lip and leaned over the edge of the sarcophagus. It was indeed empty, and at that moment a lance of fire pierced his head. With a scream he fell back. The soldier caught him and he curled into the man's embrace. "I do not want to die!" he cried out. The sound of his terror echoed off the dim walls and returned to him a hundredfold.

The soldier did not hesitate. Hori felt himself carried outside and placed gently on the litter. The librarian had hurried over and was peering in at him. He clutched at his temples, moaning softly, but some control was returning and he looked up at the man through eyes blurred with tears of pain.

"My scribe will pay you for the workmen's labours," he slurred, "and I thank you for your tact and helpfulness. Farewell. Re-seal that accursed place, and do not open an investigation. It will be fruitless." The man bowed, obviously perplexed. Hori gasped an order to the bearers, then fell back and succ.u.mbed to his misery. I will get home, he vowed feverishly. Father will see what evidence I have. But I do not want to die! Not yet! My own tomb is not finished, and I have not yet been loved. Thoth, I have not yet been loved!

He did not remember returning to the mayor's house or being put to bed. He came to himself much later for a moment, and the room was dark. One night lamp burned by his couch but its small flame did not pierce the midnight darkness of the room. You did this, Father, he woke thinking. You spoke the spell all unwittingly, and unleashed these abominations on us. The Scroll of Thoth is real. It rests in Memphis, sewn to the hand of someone who does not matter at all, but it has done its work. He groped for the cup of poppy on the table by his head and drained it. Suddenly a strange face was looming above him, white and young. "Your Highness has a need?" it asked, and Hori recognized one of the mayor's slaves detailed to take care of him.

"No," he said, his eyes already drifting closed. "Wake me when Antef returns."

The rhythmic ebb and flow of his torment rocked him, tossing him this way and that, and he had no choice but to give himself up to it. Under it her face loomed, smiling knowingly, unkindly, so that the paroxysms of pain were also paroxysms of l.u.s.t, and Hori gave himself up to the madness.

Full daylight and a pressing heat greeted him when next he opened his eyes. Antef was there, a hand on his forehead. Hori blinked and focused. Antef looked exhausted. "Is it done?" Hori murmured.