by Jonas, Gary
She closed the book and looked at the front cover. There wasn’t a dust jacket. The cloth had been stamped with the Eye of Horus. She carried the book over to a table, sat down, and began reading.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JONATHAN SHADE
Kelly, Winslow, and I walked along the east bank of the Nile. The river flowed north, and we walked with it. I kept an eye out for crocodiles but didn’t see any. A few boats drifted past. The sun beat down on us, so I took off my shirt and tucked it into the waist of my jeans next to my Glock. I’d left my shoulder holster in the room.
Kelly spoke first. “Ankhesenamun wants to send a letter to a Hittite king named Suppiluliumas to have him send a prince for her to marry.”
“Why would she do that?” Winslow asked. “The Hittites are enemies of the Egyptians.”
“She doesn’t want to marry a servant, and there isn’t a male heir,” Kelly said.
Winslow shook his head. “She should just marry someone from the royal court.”
“She has a lot of choices,” I said. “Aye is old enough to be her grandfather. Horemheb is an asshole. I haven’t met anyone else here who could be a king.”
“She should marry Horemheb,” Winslow said. “He’ll be out fighting battles, and she can do what she pleases.”
“It’s not that simple,” Kelly said. “I think that Aye or Horemheb, or maybe even both of them, are responsible for Tut’s death. Think about it. Tut took the throne at the age of eight, so odds are Aye basically ran the country. Now that Tut is old enough to rule, Aye regrets losing the power, so he wants to kill Tut before there’s a male heir.”
“That would be motive,” I said. “He and Horemheb seem close, so I suspect them both.”
“I don’t think they’ll kill her at this point. They need to marry her to be legitimate kings, but just to be safe, we need to keep an eye on things. If she sends a letter and the Hittite king sends a prince, we’ll want to see about protecting him too.”
“If Supper Guy--”
“Suppiluliumas,” Kelly said.
“Yeah, Supper Guy. If you think I’m going to try to pronounce that, you’re crazy as a shithouse rat.”
“You didn’t even try.”
“I know my limitations. So if Supper Guy sends a prince, don’t you think he’ll have bodyguards and an entourage?”
“Of course.”
“So they can look after him.”
Kelly shook her head. “I don’t trust Aye and Horemheb.”
“One or the other or both might be innocent of wrongdoing,” Winslow said. “Some people make snap judgments without having all the facts, after all.”
“Hey, I didn’t kill you,” I said.
“For which I thank you,” he said. “But don’t you think the vizier and the general deserve the benefit of the doubt?”
“Well, I’m doubting their benefit,” I said. “Does that count?”
***
The next week was uneventful. Ankhesenamun sent a messenger to the Hittite king, Supper Guy. I mean, really, what kind of name is Suppiluliumas? It’s like his parents had extra letters they wanted to just toss in there because they bought them at a bargain sale. I started calling him Sup. Kelly didn’t even smile when I mentioned that if I ever met the guy, my first words would be, “’Sup, Sup?”
She just rolled her eyes, so I kept saying it all day long.
I didn’t see Aye much that week. He was busy setting up a small tomb for Tut in the Valley of the Kings on the west bank of the Nile. Normally kings built their tombs to be massive affairs, but as Tut died so young, they had to make do with what they could. Aye supervised the painting of the tomb walls. I remembered seeing images of the walls when I was a kid, and I recognized a lot of the furniture the servants set aside for transport to the tomb. Tut was to use all of it in the afterlife. I didn’t want to tell them that a guy named Howard Carter would find the tomb in 1922 and that the gold masks, chairs, cool compound bows, chariot, and everything else would find its way into a museum, or that I’d see it when I was little kid.
Steve Martin’s “King Tut” was stuck in my head, but I didn’t sing it to anyone this time.
Ankhesenamun was in mourning, and while I didn’t see much of her, Kelly did. I asked if she wrote it down in the notebook she had in her pack, but she shook her head.
“That’s all between her and me. When I die, I know you’ll read those notebooks, or someone else will, and I won’t betray her confidence.”
So the days were pretty much the standard: get up early, wish I could jump to the twenties to see Rayna, then talk to Kelly or Winslow, who seemed to genuinely care about how Ankhesenamun felt.
“I’ve lost loved ones,” he said. “My heart goes out to her.”
I also caught him doing small kindnesses for people when he didn’t know I was looking. As he and I grew up in the States, even though we were in different centuries, we couldn’t wrap our minds around the way the poor expected to stay poor. It was their place, so while a little boy accepted a piece of bread one morning, the same boy refused to accept a piece of gold.
Winslow didn’t speak the language, so he kept offering the gold and the little boy kept pushing it away. Winslow looked confused.
I came up behind him. “The boy says gold is for the wealthy.”
Winslow turned to me. “Oh, you startled me. Can you tell him I want him to have it?”
“He won’t take it. You have to remember, they don’t have money here. Everything is done on a barter system. Gold doesn’t have any value to him as it’s something only the wealthy have.”
“If they’re wealthy, they have money,” Winslow said.
I shook my head. “They have property, they have privilege, they don’t have to work the shit jobs, they have better food. Except for that sand-filled bread.”
“So the poor don’t aspire to change their station in life at all?”
“Near as I can tell, they believe in order. The rich are supposed to be rich, and the poor are supposed to be poor. It’s always been that way, and they don’t want to upset the balance. To change that would offend the gods.”
Winslow shook his head.
“We grew up in different times,” I said. “And different lands. How are things going with the tablets?”
He shrugged. “So far the magic eludes me. The tablets are written in Atlantean, and they’re very difficult to translate.”
We chatted about other things as we wandered around.
Egypt was amazing. There were so many beautiful things to see. The craftsmanship amazed me. We saw giant obelisks, massive buildings, and the stylized Egyptian art. Some days Ankhesenamun walked with us. We saw temples that took my breath away. The colors continued to astonish me. They were so rich and vibrant. So often pictures made Egypt seem like a monochrome place, but the ancient world was full of color.
The days rolled by until an emissary finally arrived from the Hittites.
***
Ankhesenamun agreed to meet the emissary, but she wanted Kelly and me to be present. Aye was on the west bank, working with the crew on Tut’s tomb. Horemheb attended the meeting, though, and this was the first he learned about the letter.
Ankhesenamun’s letter went something like this:
My husband has died. I have no sons. They say you have many sons. Send me one of your sons. I will marry him and make him king of Egypt. Never will I marry a servant of mine.
I am afraid.
Horemheb led the emissary into the meeting hall. This surprised me as there were hundreds of functionaries who could have done this.
I estimated around fifty people in the hall between the bodyguards, standard bearers, court officials, and various royal personages. Kelly and I stood with the bodyguards.
Horemheb led the emissary to the edge of the dais where Ankhesenamun sat. “I present Khattusa-zita, emissary from Suppiluliumas,” he said.
Khattusa-zita was a short man who bowed deeply and had a deep intelligence shin
ing in his eyes. I suppose working as an ambassador, he had to find ways to keep from getting killed, and being smart and respectful probably added many years to his life.
Horemheb stepped back to watch and listen with the rest of us.
“You may speak,” Ankhesenamun said.
“Please forgive me,” Khattusa-zita said.
“You have done nothing for which we need to forgive you. I trust you have a message from King Suppiluliumas?”
“Yes. He wants me to verify the story in your letter.”
Ankhesenamun nodded. I knew from something Kelly had said that she expected this. She and Sup were enemies, so such a strange request was unlikely to be taken at face value.
“Every word is true,” Ankhesenamun said. “You may tell Suppiluliumas that I do not have a son. As he has many, if he will send one, I shall marry the prince, who will become the king of Egypt. There is no hidden agenda. I simply do not wish to marry a commoner. I shall send an envoy back with you to verify that this is true. Time is short. My husband will be buried in less than fifty-six days. The prince must reach me here in Thebes before then.”
***
“This is an outrage,” Horemheb said once the meeting was over. “The Hittites are our sworn enemies! We should crush them, not invite them to rule over us.”
“Clearly, I disagree,” Ankhesenamun said. “You always counseled my husband wisely, General. You won many battles, and I have the utmost respect for you and your abilities. But if you would take a moment to look around, you will see there is no royal male for me to marry here. I will not defile Egypt by marrying a servant. It will not happen.”
“Better a member of the royal court than a foreign enemy,” Horemheb said.
“And who would you suggest?”
“Your best choices would be either Aye or myself. The vizier ran Egypt after your father died. He restored the old gods. The people will accept him before they will accept a foreign dog. If you were to marry me, you’d have the strength of the army with you. Either of us is preferable.”
“It is not your choice, General. Your army could not protect my husband from a lone assassin.”
“The king died because of them,” Horemheb said, pointing at Kelly and me. “If that foreign visitor could have handled a chariot, our king would still be alive.”
Ankhesenamun shook her head. “I was there, General. I saw what happened. The spear cast from a window went through the spokes of my husband’s chariot. Yes, they crashed into Tutankhamun’s chariot, as did Ammon. But they did not hit my husband as he’d been thrown clear. If I thought any of them had anything to do with the attack, I would have them all executed.”
“I can still arrange that,” Horemheb said.
“It is not your place. They are friends to Egypt. They are friends to me in my time of mourning.”
“They were supposed to be just passing through.”
“I invited them to stay. You will abide by my wishes, General. I am the regent, and do not forget that royal blood flows through my veins.”
Horemheb fumed but rather than continue the argument, he spun and stormed out of the hall.
Ankhesenamun turned to us.
“Jonathan, Kelly, I would speak with you.”
We bowed and approached the dais.
“I have asked much of you already, but I would ask one more favor. Will you go with the emissary Khattusa-zita and see to it that if Suppiluliumas agrees to provide one of his sons, that the prince arrives here safely?”
There was no way we could refuse the queen of Egypt. While it was phrased as a request, we knew better. She felt she was safe until Tut was ensconced in his tomb. She had trusted bodyguards and royal servants to protect her. After Horemheb’s outburst, she feared for the safety of the prince.
It didn’t matter that the prince would have bodyguards, servants, and his own entourage. Ankhesenamun had seen us in action. She’d seen Kelly take down ten men in as many seconds, and she’d seen me call forth my thunder when I shot a royal magician.
Kelly and I bowed.
“We would be honored,” I said.
“Then it is settled. You will leave in the morning.”
BRAND EASTON
When Brand next opened his eyes, he was still in Priscilla’s compartment, but he was no longer fastened to the floor by vines. Instead, he found himself in her bed. Paralyzed.
He tried to speak but couldn’t.
He blinked and found that he could at least shift his eyes around, but he couldn’t turn his head. For the first time since being enrolled in the Sekutar program, Brand Easton felt true fear. It clutched his stomach and twisted.
His heart thundered.
He struggled to move but couldn’t even twitch his toes. His breath came in shallow gasps.
Priscilla came into view and smiled. “Oh, good. You’re awake.”
She gazed into his eyes.
“No witty remarks? Oh, that’s right. You can’t speak. You can’t move. I’ve allowed enough leeway for you to breathe, but that’s about it. You already know what I’m going to do to you, of course.”
Brand couldn’t reply so he simply stared at her.
“You can struggle all you want, but it will do you no good, so you may as well submit when Edward enters your body.”
Priscilla moved out of his view, but she kept speaking.
“The ritual will begin precisely at midnight,” she said. She moved back into view and held up Edward’s pocket watch. “And I shall time it with this.”
She laughed and looked to her left. “Oh, Edward, you amuse me so.”
Brand couldn’t see Edward, and for that he was thankful.
“Oh, I’m being rude,” Priscilla said. “You can’t hear or see Edward without this.”
She placed the pocket watch on Brand’s chest. Edward flashed into view, standing beside Priscilla. He was smiling.
“I can’t wait to take physical form again at long last,” Edward said.
“If you’re wondering about your ghost friend,” Priscilla said, “she’s learned that my power is strong with spirits too. I can’t hold her forever, but if you could turn your head to look behind you, you’d see that she’s bound and gagged. My Book of Shadows is full of so many great spells.”
Brand had never felt so helpless.
“Oh, it’s nearly time,” Priscilla said. “Get ready, my love.”
“I’m ready,” Edward said as he climbed on top of Brand. As he was a ghost, Brand couldn’t feel him, but having Edward gaze directly into his eyes from mere inches away was unnerving. “How about you, Brand? Are you ready? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Priscilla laughed again. Edward gave her a smile. They looked at the watch. Edward waited until the second hand swept up to twelve.
Midnight.
Edward entered Brand’s body.
Priscilla chanted her spell.
Brand felt Edward’s presence.
He tried again to fight back.
“I think not,” Edward said but Brand’s lips moved to speak the words, and Brand’s vocal cords delivered the sounds.
Edward sat up.
“Did it work?” Priscilla asked.
Edward pulled her close and kissed her on the lips. “Yes, my love. Your magic is so strong, Brand had no fight in him at all. I am in total control.”
RAYNA NOBLE
Thaddeus Milton’s car pulled up in front of the Pinkerton’s National Detective Agency. Lincoln stood in the rain, holding an umbrella over himself and Rayna, and he kept her covered as he opened the car door.
“Ladies first,” he said.
Rayna slid into the car. Lincoln sat down and tucked the umbrella away on the floorboard before closing the door.
Thaddeus sat in the front seat with his driver, an elderly, nondescript man clad in a chauffer’s outfit complete with cap. Thaddeus wore his standard black suit with white gloves. He looked over the seat at his new passengers.
“You’ll need to don thes
e,” he said and passed two black linen hoods to Lincoln and Rayna.
“You’re kidding, right?” Rayna said looking at the hood.
“Secrecy is of paramount importance,” Thaddeus said. “Unless you’re a member of the Mystery School, you cannot be allowed to know its location.”
“Best to play along,” Lincoln said and pulled the hood over his head.
Rayna frowned. She’d spent an hour fixing her hair and didn’t want to ruin it with a stupid hood, but she knew Thaddeus wouldn’t let his driver put the car in motion until she donned the damn thing. She sighed and pulled it on, trying not to mess up her hair too much.
She couldn’t see a thing in the hood.
“Very good. All right, Lester, take us to the temple.”
Rayna felt the car lurch forward, and she could tell when they were turning or slowing or stopping. Based on the number of turns, she knew they were taking a roundabout way to the temple.
Twenty minutes later, the car swerved to the curb and stopped. Rayna knew they were at the temple because Lester shut off the engine.
“Please leave the hoods in place,” Thaddeus said. “Lester and I will lead you inside.”
Rayna shook her head. It wasn’t as if she’d recognize the neighborhood, though it was possible Lincoln might. Lester opened her door and helped her out of the car, keeping an umbrella over her.
“This way, ma’am,” he said in a low voice. She heard the patter of raindrops on the silk umbrella. He touched her elbow and guided her, warning her to step over a puddle of water and up for the curb then up again for the stairs leading to the entrance.
When they were finally inside, Thaddeus said, “You may remove your hoods now.”
Rayna carefully removed her hood and patted her hair, wishing she had access to a mirror. She heard classical music playing deeper in the building.
Lincoln’s jacket was wet as Thaddeus had not used the umbrella to keep them dry. She thanked Lester for keeping her free of the rain.
“My pleasure, ma’am.” He looked at Thaddeus. “I shall wait in the car.”