Luxor Lost and Found

by Graham Warren

  “You really do not know when to quit, do you?”

  “I’m, I’m not quitter,” he stuttered as he bowed.

  “Oh, do forget all this bashful stuff. You called this meeting.”

  “Yes, um, sorry.”

  “Oh, do come on, do I look like someone who would have you put to death?”

  “At times, well … yes!”

  Ramses gave a laugh and handed Cairo a glass of red wine. “What do you want of me, my little friend?”

  “I am supposed to ask you about magic,” he said as he put the empty wine glass to one side. He had needed the courage!

  “Let me help you by giving you some advice. You are a very important part of a team. You have equal rights with the rest of the team. Ask your questions, not their questions. That way you will get the answers you need.”

  “But Alex said–”

  “Yes, I can guess what Alex said. You could meet with me here in safety, as nobody would expect you to demand a meeting with the mighty Ramses.”

  “Did I demand? I am so sorry.”

  “Cairo, I need this person,” even Ramses did not want to mention the warlock by name, “gone just as much as you, probably more so. I cannot do it, I cannot get rid of him, so on this occasion you have every right to demand.”

  “Well, Alex–”

  “What did I say, ask your questions, not his.”

  “Well, I need to know if you know where I find spells. The spell we need to …” Despite his new-found confidence, Cairo was having trouble finding the correct English words. His ancient language would not allow him to speak directly to Ramses, as his was soldier language, a very rough language. Ancients nearly always spoke English, because it was the one language they could all converse in.

  “Of course, everybody knows where to find spells that would rid us of him.”

  “Well, I don’t,” thought Cairo.

  “Spells are one thing, finding the ingredients, then finding someone proficient enough to put them together correctly, so that they work as expected, is quite another. In his day Gadeem could have done this and cast the spell without any worries. His knowledge was useless when we failed to find all the items needed, despite looking for hundreds of years.” Ramses took a sip of his wine as he thought, “Perhaps three new pairs of eyes along with their ancient memories might actually be able to locate the missing ingredients, though I find this somewhat implausible. They know nothing of ancient magic. Gadeem does, yet he could not find the …” Ramses’ thoughts then rolled over each other at great speed as he realised their error. They had had someone who could do ancient magic, looking for ingredients for ancient spells. Why? They needed explorers, adventurers to search out the missing ingredients, and they had three young adventurers to hand. They did not need to know anything about magic to locate ingredients. “We have been stupid all these years,” Ramses said out loud as he raised an arm to beckon someone forth. Thoth appeared out of the dark recesses of the chamber. Ramses took the papyrus from him and read it. “Good, Thoth, that reads well.” He paused, thought and asked, “Why do you write down everything I say?”

  “Because that is what I am here for.”

  “So, if I told you never to write down anything ever again would you stop writing?”

  “I do not know, my Pharaoh.”

  “Thoth, I have been hard on you, nasty to you for thousands of years, yet you remain loyal to me … why?”

  Cairo coughed a deliberate cough. “I think we off subject.” He stood awaiting a rebuke, it never came.

  “Yes, quite right, we are.” Ramses slowly poured more wine into his glass. “Thoth, can you get Cairo the papyruses on which the spells, you know, the spells that would rid us of you know who are written?”

  “I can, my Pharaoh, but they would have to come from the secure archive.”

  “Yes, yes, just get them, Thoth, just get them.”

  “Isn’t this a rather pointless exercise, my Pharaoh, as if we could have used these papyruses, surely we would have done so?”

  “Yes, we would have done so, but do stop calling me Shirley!”

  “But I never–” Thoth started to say.

  Cairo was rolling around on the floor in fits of laughter. He sat up and said “Airplane” to Thoth, “Airplane, it a movie and that a great joke from movie.”

  “See, Thoth, Cairo appreciates my humour,” said Ramses as he struggled to keep a straight face.

  “I will have to go personally. Also, I have not opened that particular archive in thousands of years, so it may take some while to locate them.”

  “Take as long as you want. We will be waiting for you.”

  Thoth really could not believe his ears. Everything with Ramses had always been ‘Now, Thoth’. He left wondering what had happened to Ramses, whether it actually was Ramses.

  With Thoth gone, Cairo walked out into the light. He looked back at the tomb he had just left, but from the writing in steles on the wall along with many carved figures of ancient gods, it was obviously more than just a tomb. Not being able to read, he was none the wiser. There was a long stone path to his right that went off into the distance, and another, to his left, which disappeared from view quite quickly. Cairo was surrounded by white rock hills. He had no idea where he was until Ramses stepped outside and enlightened him.

  “This is the sanctuary of Ptah and Meretseger. We are between the workers village, Deir El Medina, and the Valley of the Queens.” Ramses wiped his brow. “It is far too hot out here. Do come back inside so we can talk.” And they did talk. They chatted about movies and many other non-important things until Thoth returned.

  Cairo left the way he had arrived. He took with him two spells which were each written on many sheets of ancient papyrus. Such was their complexity. Each sheet was rolled, tied and placed vertically inside a large shoulder bag. Only Ropet was waiting for Cairo this time, he thrust a flaming torch into his hand. Again, nothing was said. Ropet walked off, Cairo followed with the bag dragging on the ground.

  Alex had mingled in with the workers as they removed ancient golden artefacts from Alexander the Great’s gold chamber. So much had already been removed, yet the chamber appeared to be no less empty. “This is going to be years of work,” he thought. He knew where he had to be later, but right now he wanted to see Henuttawy, though he had no way of contacting her. He needed to know why she had come back. The facts, because he knew that she wanted the warlock removed from the afterlife just as much as they all did. He was also patently aware that Ramses could not be seen to be weak, to be revealed a liar over her affair with the warlock, not at such a crucial time as this. This was a really dangerous time for her to be back, so she had not just turned up on a whim.

  Whilst deep in thought, he felt a hand quickly dip into his pocket. Immediately his own hand shot into the same pocket, only to discover a folded piece of paper. He looked around, but with so many workers going back and forth he had no idea who could have placed it there. This frustrated him, but upon opening the note he soon forgot his frustrations. He was on cloud nine as he read:

  Lunch, now, four-legged transport knows where to go.

  Hop on just beyond security, H.

  Before he had time to put the note back in his pocket, he was already on his way out of the chamber.

  Chapter 11

  -

  Lead Astray

  Quentin called to Alex as he ran out of the tomb.

  “I’m in a hurry, Dad, can it wait?”

  “I wanted to give you this. It has just arrived for you.” Quentin held out his hand.

  Alex felt his heart sink. It was another note. The words “Henuttawy is cancelling our meeting” immediately sprang into his mind. “If I do not open it, if I do not read it, I can see her as planned.” His thoughts were not totally logical because how would Henuttawy know if Quentin had given him the note or not? He was letting his heart rule his head, which left him wide open to danger.

  Kate had arrived at the Ramesseum Café i
n record time. She was now a few minutes early for her meeting, but also overly hot. The small bottle of water, which had been placed in front of her as she sat down, failed to quench her thirst, so another was ordered, then another one after that.

  Feeling more than a little uncomfortable at the thought of meeting a man in the ladies’ toilet, she was thankful the restaurant was far from busy. A couple, European, early sixties Kate guessed, were having lunch with their Egyptian guide. A large table full of tourists was now an empty table, as they struggled to fit back into their minibus. A romantically involved couple sat at the most secluded table. She was on holiday and old enough to be his mother, possibly his grandmother. He was young, Egyptian, and so obviously in love with her money. “Quentin would love this,” she thought, as this was one of his pet hates. There were a few more customers, though not many. She could not see that there was likely to be a great rush for the toilets, not in this heat. It was time.

  Alex raced past the army, who were not stopping anyone from leaving the dig. Trying to enter was a completely different matter. Security was now so tight that it was almost a strip search, even if you had a pass. Thinking about it, he reckoned that the army should be checking those going in, as well as those going out. Gold could be going out; ancient artefacts could be going out. This broke his one hundred percent concentration on Henuttawy and his over eagerness to see her again. He was now torn between going back to tell his father about the possible loss of artefacts, or getting onto the donkey which he could see waiting for him just a short way off.

  Standing in the blistering heat of the valley he wondered why he felt so confused. He had plenty of time to let his dad know, so security could be upgraded, and still be with Henuttawy in time for lunch. History was history, it could not be repeated, so once an artefact had been taken, it was gone for good. He was trying to think clearly, though something would not let him. He thought back to the time when both he and Cairo had been saved by Kate. They had felt suicidal at the top of a shaft because magic was in play. He now realised that Henuttawy could not be trusted, he must go back. He tried to go back, but every step he took, took him closer to the donkey.

  Alex was in total panic. Yet again he had been a fool, he had failed to think things through. He wished Kate was here with him. She would have dragged him away, she would have saved him. He had to do something to stop himself being drawn to the donkey. Closer and closer he became. He tried to stop moving, but he was being pulled in as if someone had tied a rope around him. He struggled against it, he put all his energy into trying to walk away, though nothing changed the inevitable. An idea suddenly came to him. He shouted to security, to the army. Due to the language barrier, he failed to make them understand, though now four soldiers were watching him, a crazy foreigner standing out in the sun, leaning back whilst attempting a very poor Michael Jackson moonwalk. Now having their attention, he intentionally fell to the ground, as if the heat had been too much for him. It actually was becoming too much for him, but his ploy worked. The soldiers were with him in seconds. Two helped him up, though Alex really did not need their help, as all they did was reignite his pain.

  He needed them to shoot the donkey. He motioned with his hands before making the sound of gunfire whilst now clasping his hands together, index fingers pointing towards the animal. “I’m not crazy, shoot the donkey. Shoot him, kill him,” shouted Alex in desperation.

  One of the soldiers realised he was now much closer to the donkey than he had been, yet neither he nor the animal had moved. He attempted to take a step back, though he could not. In panic he grabbed at a metal truncheon clipped to his trouser leg. He threw it with all his might. The donkey stood there, motionless as the truncheon passed straight through him. The soldiers now not only had their guns out, they were firing frantically. Every bullet passed straight through the unconcerned animal.

  Hearing a car horn, Alex looked to his left to see a multi-coloured Volvo speeding up the valley, leaving a voluminous cloud of white dust in its wake. Rose hit the brakes, the wheels locked as the car screeched to a halt. The donkey was only centimetres from the car on the driver’s side, whilst Alex and the soldiers were about the same distance away on the opposite side. “Run whilst you can,” she shouted in English and then in Arabic as she slid across the front seat. The soldiers did not need to be told twice. They were off and running. “Run, Alex, as the car will only block the magic for a few seconds.”

  Alex had no intention of running without Rose. He helped her get out of the passenger door, then they both ran just as fast as they could, collapsing to the ground upon reaching the shade and the safety of the dig site.

  Quentin and the workers, having heard the gunfire, had come out to see what was going on. Everybody watched a donkey eat a Volvo. It was a surreal sight, an unbelievable sight. The Volvo was being crushed, imploding on itself, and the donkey was devouring it.

  “I really loved that old car,” said Rose.

  The donkey turned towards them and gave a grin, the type of which Alex had only ever seen in a cartoon characterisation. It then disappeared, just before there was an explosion, showering minute multi-coloured Volvo parts all over the valley.

  “Sorry about your car,” said Alex. He lay back and propped himself up on his shoulders.

  “Better to have Volvo parts all over the valley than Alex parts, wouldn’t you say?”

  He could not disagree.

  Kate entered the ladies’ toilet at the Ramesseum Café with hesitation. Not only because she was meeting a man in these toilets, but because the whole of the Ramesseum Café was at ancient ground level. It was, after all, only a short distance from the Ramesseum, the mortuary temple of Ramses II. “Well,” she thought to herself, “we have to do the unexpected, and this is something nobody could expect us to do.” She chuckled, partly out of the situation she found herself in, though mostly out of nervousness. She was on time, well actually she was now a few minutes late, but she had to have the water. It was more than hot outside. Even here, in the shade of the toilet, she wiped the perspiration from her brow.

  The main door opened; Kate froze to the spot. The romantically involved grandmother entered the shabby though reasonably clean toilet, going straight into a cubical. “Idiot,” said Kate under her breath, meaning herself rather than the old lady. “Ancients do not use doors, not modern doors at least!” She thought she had better do something, so she washed her hands. She exchanged pleasantries with the old lady who spent an age reapplying her makeup. “Polyfilla would be of more use. Now get out of here and get back to your boyfriend.” Kate was in no mood to think pleasant thoughts. “Come on, you old bat, move yourself.”

  Kate had an idea. She held her stomach, said “Chronic diarrhoea,” then shot into a cubical. She made every kind of disgusting toilet noise she could think of. Whether it was due to Kate’s overacting or not, the toilet door slammed as the old lady left. Leaving the cubical, she turned towards the sinks, only to see that the old lady had left her makeup bag behind and hear footsteps approaching the toilet. She dove into the cubical beside her, the second of the two cubicles, and locked the door. The old lady collected her makeup bag and went, as Kate stared at the writing on the door in front of her.

  The pen is mightier than the sword,

  the feather is mightier than the knife,

  it is not the brain, but how we use it, which is important!

  Kate immediately knew she was not going to have any meeting in the ladies’ toilets, though without a second’s hesitation, she also knew exactly where she had to go.

  Alex was sitting with Rose and his father at the newly supplied table outside of the tomb of Ay. He hoped this one did not fly up into the air as the old one had done, the last time he sat here. Everything appeared to be calm, he desperately wanted it to stay that way. Rose had spent quite some time convincing the overly superstitious workers that what they had seen was not what they thought they had seen, in order to stop them from leaving the dig, never to return.
Even the soldiers had wanted to leave, though they were far easier to convince. Once Rose had explained that they had a choice, either work here or at the isolated, God forsaken and as hot as hell Al Hassana in the Sinai, they went straight back to work. It took her a little longer to convince the workers, but, speaking in Arabic, she did, and everything was now as it was.

  Alex was annoyed with himself for so easily trusting Henuttawy. He was beating himself up inside over his stupidity, just as much as he was beaten up outside.

  “You both look as though you have been through hell,” said Rose, just before she took a sip of vanilla tea.

  “Sort of,” replied Quentin.

  “Definitely,” said Alex.

  A soldier approached the table, dropped a note on it, then walked away without saying a word.

  “It’s for you, Alex.”

  “Sorry, Dad, I don’t want any more notes today.” Saying that made Alex realise he had not read the one his father had given him earlier. He took it out of his pocket and read it whilst Rose and Quentin looked on.

  Please meet me for lunch.

  Food will be ready soon.

  This time you will enjoy it rather than return it. H x

  Oh, and mind your head.

  “You look confused, Alex,” said Rose, and he was, totally confused. “Perhaps if you read the note which has just arrived, it may help.”

  Quentin held it out; Alex took it hesitantly, then read it.

  I hope you are not too busy to come.

  I cannot believe you do not know where I am.

  I do not even want to think you do not trust me.

  I shall wait a little longer. H x

  “Sorry, I must go. Do you know the quickest way out of here?”