“Apache,” Jenny replied. “Hardened sole but softer sides, fastens by wrapping the lace around a button, easier than lacing and unlacing.”
Stephen was obviously feeling his way to another pun, when Eddie interrupted.
“I’ll take the first watch, since I’m most adjusted to this climate. I’d considered taking one of the village dogs along to help, but I couldn’t figure out how to make it keep quiet while we were getting away.” He grinned, “Not to mention, Jenny’s kitty-cat might have had a problem with it.”
Jenny, stretched out on her bedroll now, boots placed where she could reach them, the tops folded over to keep out scorpions and other night creatures, stuck her tongue out at him.
“Wake me next if you want, Eddie,” she said around a yawn. “I got plenty of practice sleeping in little bites when I was training with Papa.”
Bryce nodded. “Fine. You next, then you wake your uncle, and Stephen will take last. We’ll get moving again soon after dark, so Stephen, it’ll be your job to wake the lazy bones.”
“Right,” Stephen said. “Do you know how to find the Hawk Rock without light?”
“I took compass readings,” Eddie reassured him, “but in general, we should be able to keep on course by the stars.”
Stephen chuckled, the over-tired laugh of one who is starting to find anything humorous. “We’re the three kings, following the stars. Eddie, you’ll have to be one of the camels or we’ll have too many and Jenny’ll shoot us if we say she’s just a queen.”
“Go to sleep, Stephen,” Eddie advised kindly.
Jenny fell asleep quickly, but dreamed of jackal-headed sphinxes that wrote her notes in her father’s elegant French hand, of women dressed in trousers and stars, and of camels that spat tea. She was distinctly relieved when Eddie woke her.
“Nothing moving,” he said. “Except your kitten. I think she’s hungry again.”
Jenny nodded, tried to rise, discovered her muscles were protesting the long night of camel-riding, and raised herself more carefully. Eddie offered no support or coddling, but went immediately to his own bedroll. She thought she should be more flattered.
To keep herself from stiffening further, Jenny paced under the shaded edges of the pavilion. The sand outside was blindingly hot, so she was glad for her smoked glasses. Periodically, she checked back along the way they had come, but the desert remained empty; even the tracks of their passage were blurring as the sand shifted beneath a gentle wind.
Deeper into the desert, the Hawk Rock bulked large in the bright light, an island surrounded by endless seas of golden sand. She wondered if they would reach it tonight, but could acquire no sense of distance in the trackless waste. She remembered, though, that there had been plants growing on the rock when Uncle Neville had been there before. They were still far enough that the only hints of green might simply have been the natural discoloration of the rock.
Eventually, she woke Uncle Neville, and dropped back onto her bedroll. She was aware of Mozelle curling up beside her, then of Stephen gently shaking her shoulder.
“It’s dusk,” he said. “Eddie’s getting the camels ready.”
Rising on legs she thought didn’t feel quite as stiff as they had earlier, Jenny discovered that Stephen had taken the initiative to make a small fire and a pot of tea. They all so evidently needed the stimulant that Eddie said nothing about the unauthorized use of water, but Jenny could tell from how he looked between the pot and the nearest water bag that he was estimating just how much had been lost to evaporation.
Breakfast was smoked fish and flat bread for all but Mozelle, who had—more by accident than skill—caught an unwary jerboa. Jenny took pity on the kitten’s tiny teeth and slit the mouse-like rodent open with her Bowie knife. Growling with almost comic ferocity, the kitten dined on her kill.
They mounted the camels as the westering sun was reddening the sands, and the stars were spilling out against the darkening blue-black. The sunset contained none of the spectacular colors Jenny had seen elsewhere. There was simply not enough moisture in the air.
With the setting sun behind it, the Hawk Rock bulked blacker and more solid than the darkness, which nonetheless eventually swallowed it into itself.
After another full night of travel, they still had not reached the Hawk Rock, but when the sun rose their destination was close enough that they could better appreciate its stark majesty.
“I’ll look ahead for a campsite,” Eddie said.
“Can’t we just go on?” Stephen asked—rather bravely, Jenny thought, for she had seen him limping earlier.
“Be better to rest,” Eddie said.
“But it’s so close,” Stephen protested. “We could arrive in a few hours, and be ready to start exploring come evening.”
“I doubt you’d see much with sun-blinded eyes,” Eddie said dryly. “This time of year, light rather than heat is what makes the desert dangerous—light, and dryness that sucks the moisture from you without your knowing. It’ll get hot enough, though, when the sand starts throwing the heat back at you. Take my advice and sleep out the worst of the day. We’ll be there soon enough, and gone again, too. You forget, this isn’t the end of the journey.”
Stephen sighed. “It’s so close.”
“May seem so,” Eddie said, “but I suspect it’s farther than you believe.”
As they settled in for the day’s rest, Jenny thought about what an interesting traveling companion Eddie was proving to be. On the journey up the Nile he had proved a good tour guide and superlative dragoman, making arrangements that anticipated every contingency. However, she had never realized what a devoted follower of Islam he was until they had struck out into the desert.
Five times a day at the appointed hours he stopped whatever he was doing and unrolled a small prayer rug that had been woven for him by Miriam. Positioning himself so he was facing Mecca, he recited the appropriate prayers in flawless, sing-song Arabic, completely unlike his usual country English accents.
Jenny, who had woken to take her turn on guard, watched with interest.
“You’re serious about that, aren’t you?” she asked. That night’s journey hadn’t been as stressful as the previous night’s determined escape, and her normal curiosity was resurfacing—and anything that would stop her from thinking about the Hawk Rock and what might wait for them there or beyond was very welcome.
Eddie finished rolling his prayer rug away and smiled.
“Yes, I am. I converted so I would be permitted to marry Miriam, but somewhere along the way the Prophet’s teachings started making more and more sense.”
“Aren’t there some pretty odd restrictions you have to follow,” Jenny asked, “like converting all unbelievers or something?”
Eddie smiled. “I’m not saying that all of it makes sense, any more than some of Jesus’s more extreme pronouncements made sense. How many of you would ‘turn the other cheek’ if challenged?”
Jenny, who had been carefully cleaning sand from her rifle, grinned ruefully.
“I think many Christians try to follow the spirit if not letter of Jesus’s teachings,” she protested.
Eddie chuckled. “That must be why so many Christian nations maintain flourishing militaries, and why there is not a city in Europe without some form of law enforcement.”
“Those are hardly fair examples,” Jenny protested. “Nations have the right—the duty, even—to protect their citizens from those who would break the social contract.”
“I didn’t say they didn’t, Miss Paine,” Eddie replied. “I was just pointing out that Christianity has its share of extreme pronouncements that the majority of Christians are willing to overlook.”
“Touché,” Jenny agreed, grinning as she realized the martial import of her own choice of words. “For example, I’m not willing to sell all I have and give the money to the poor just to be a good Christian. I rather like traveling in style with Uncle Neville.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Eddie said, movin
g toward his bedroll. “I don’t think the churches are willing to try that one either, whether they are Christian or Islamic.”
Stephen’s voice broke in, almost shyly, and he sat up rumpled on his bedroll, “What about the provision that lets you have more than one wife? Would you take a second wife if you could afford her?”
Eddie shook his head. “I don’t think I would, even if I could find another father as willing as Miriam’s was to accept an Englishman as a suitor for his daughter. I won’t say the idea hasn’t crossed my mind when I’ve seen a pretty girl, but…”
“I don’t think it’s a very fair system for the women,” Jenny interjected, amazed to hear herself sounding angry.
“Some women claim to like it,” Eddie said evenly, “or so Miriam says. She says that they say there is always someone to share the work and care for the children. I really couldn’t say, not from experience. I think I’m too British to be comfortable with more than one wife—though now that I think of it, I’ve known many a British military man who has managed the equivalent. They’ve had a wife at home, and a woman with whom they live abroad.”
Stephen coughed. “Do you think that is an appropriate topic to mention in a lady’s hearing?”
“You raised the matter,” Eddie said.
Jenny laughed. “Stephen, I don’t know whether to kiss you for thinking me a lady or to kick you for thinking me a moron who’s never seen the world.” She paused. “I don’t think I’ll do either. It’s too hot to risk making you blush.”
Stephen said hurriedly, “Eddie, don’t you miss a good pork chop or a glass of fine wine?”
“I did at first,” the other admitted, “but not anymore. Still, I’m not saying that if we were out here starving and the only thing between me and death was a haunch of wild pig, I’d starve rather than disobey a dietary provision. Now hush up, you two, I’m not as young as you and I need my sleep.”
Stephen snorted something that was probably disbelief that Eddie ever got tired, and lay down again. After a while, Jenny heard their breathing quiet and regularize. She was half-drowsing herself when the sound of Mozelle alternately hissing and growling brought her alert again.
The kitten was backing away from something in the sand, spitting and waving one paw. Her tail was bristled and her back arched in a fashion that should have been ridiculous in one so small, but Jenny felt anything but amused. Rising, she saw that the kitten’s foe was a large scorpion.
Scooping Mozelle up in one hand, and ignoring the kitten’s wriggling protests, Jenny brought the butt of her rifle down repeatedly on the arachnid’s shell, watching the tail curve up and over its back as it stabbed ineffectually at the polished wood. Only when it stopped moving completely did she stop and set Mozelle down.
The kitten sniffed once, then contemptuously scratched sand over its foe.
When she woke Stephen for his watch—Uncle Neville had asked for the last watch so he could start packing the camels—she showed him the dead scorpion.
“Ever seen one before?”
“Not that large,” Stephen said, poking the corpse in fascination. “They’re poisonous, aren’t they?”
“Very. Some can kill you; others just make you wish you’d died. They’re one of the myriad creeping and crawling reasons Eddie keeps reminding us to shake out our boots and bedding.”
Stephen continued inspecting the dead scorpion, flipping it over with a twig to get a better look at its pincers and curving tail.
“It looks rather like a crab of some sort,” he observed, “or maybe a spider. I bet the ancient Egyptians didn’t like them any more than we do, yet in their cosmology they made them into wardens of the dead, and associated them with beloved goddesses like Isis and Selket. For all that, the ancient Egyptians are dust while the scorpion flourishes. There’s a moral in that somewhere.”
“Shake out your bedding and check your boots,” Jenny suggested, following words with actions. “See you in a few hours.”
———
Neville had been aware of the various conversations that had interrupted the day’s rest, but had refused to take part in any of them. When he woke, it would be time to head for the Hawk Rock. Stubbornly, like a child waiting for Christmas morning, he pretended to sleep.
Sometimes he fooled even himself, but when Stephen woke him, he felt as if he’d already been awake for hours.
“Rest a while,” Neville advised the younger man. “I’m going to need your mind sharp and clear when we reach the Hawk Rock.”
“Why are we even going there?” Stephen asked. “Didn’t you and Alphonse Liebermann already find what we’ll need?”
“There may be something more,” Neville replied. “As you may recall, Alphonse and I left somewhat abruptly. Even if there isn’t, we can refill our water.”
Stephen licked his lips as he settled back.
“Right. I’d like to be wet behind the ears in more ways than one.”
As evening began to bring some relief from the glaring sunlight, Eddie awoke. After tending to his personal needs, he came to help Neville re-pack the camels. By the time the sun was low but the light not yet gone, they were ready.
There was no need to awaken Stephen and Jenny, nor to ask why they were awake before it was necessary. There was very little conversation as they readied themselves to depart, only orders from Eddie on matters of routine, and a few commands to the camels.
To Neville, it seemed the light took longer than usual to fade that night, for his gaze remained so fixed on the looming presence of the Hawk Rock that he felt he could see it even after reason told him it must have faded into the darkness.
Now that they were closer, Eddie struck a match occasionally, checking their course against his compass. After they had been underway some hours in full darkness, Neville was aware of a change in his camel’s bearing.
He commented on this to Eddie, who said laconically, “Scented water or grass, I’d guess. Doesn’t feel like nerves to me.”
It was still night when the bulk of the Hawk Rock began blocking out the stars. Eddie guided them around to the little canyon where the Liebermann expedition had camped a decade before. The opening was there, and Neville’s dread that a landslide or rockfall might have blocked or otherwise altered it vanished.
The canyon itself didn’t seem much changed, at least from what he could tell by lantern light. They didn’t bother erecting the pavilion, just unpacked the bare necessities and settled themselves to wait for dawn.
“Try to sleep,” Eddie advised, and though everyone answered that they would, Neville thought that only Eddie himself would get more than a catnap.
Dawn came at last, a gentle herald to what would be another day of unremitting brilliant light and reflected heat. They welcomed it as if the sun truly were the boat of Ra, bringing the god safely once more from his dangerous journey through the dark reaches of night.
“I suppose,” Eddie said, resignation in every line of his face, “that all of you can’t wait to hurry up and see if the obelisk is still there.”
Neville was too embarrassed to speak. Ever since the first hints of dawn had touched the canyon he’d been looking to see if the trail he and Alphonse had followed was still there. The fact that he knew it couldn’t be clearly seen from this canyon had not kept him from trying.
Stephen looked equally uncomfortable, but Jenny spoke easily.
“I’ll stay here and start setting up camp,” she said. “I can’t read hieroglyphs nearly as well as the rest of you, and we’ll be glad for shelter when the sun is higher.”
Eddie rewarded her good sense with a warm smile before turning to the others.
“I’ll stay with Jenny and set up camp,” he said. “You two can combine searching for the obelisk with seeing if that spring is still active. I seem to recall that water could be lowered from above, and it would be nice to have a wash.”
“And a shave,” Stephen agreed.
His blond beard wasn’t heavy, but several days of golden
stubble marred the line of his side-whiskers. Neville rubbed a hand along his own jaw, feeling the rasping roughness with something like surprise. He must be obsessed. He hadn’t even noticed the itchy new growth until this very moment.
Gathering several collapsible buckets, a hunting rifle, and some lengths of rope, Neville led his similarly burdened assistant toward where the base of the trail had been. Like the canyon, it remained little changed. Some rocks had shifted. There were shrubs where there had been none, and none where he recalled some, but otherwise it was as it had been: a steep, pebble-strewn trail, unfit for camels and hardly fit for goats.
Neville took the lead and soon became glad for the rope. Stephen proved as clumsy of foot as he was agile with his tongue. He was game, though, grasping the line Neville strung from the base of a sturdy shrub and using it to help himself over the worst sections of the trail.
“Good thing,” Stephen gasped when at last they reached a more level section, “that Eddie insisted on bringing extra pairs of heavy gloves. This pair is going to need some mending.”
Neville nodded, hardly hearing him.
The meadow or vale seemed rather more overgrown than he recalled, but was recognizably the same place. He cast around, and spotted the telltale lushness that marked the location of the spring.
It, at least, had changed. When he had last seen it, it had been little more than a drip, but now someone had opened the flow to a trickle. Flat rocks had been set to direct the channel into a tiny basin that held a double handful of water. Neville drank, and found it cool and sweet.
“This is different,” he said, explaining the changes to Stephen.
“Different,” the other agreed, bending to inspect the basin, “but I don’t think recent. The stone has had time to discolor where the water habitually pools, and along the edge where it runs over.”
Neville nodded. “Even so, it is evidence that someone has been here, has stayed here, sometime in these last ten years.”
Stephen didn’t seem much impressed. He hardly attended even to the water, his gaze darting around the overgrown vale. His eagerness to locate the obelisk was obvious, as was his awareness that, unlike Alphonse Liebermann that first time, he was not the patron of the expedition and couldn’t rush off without leave.
The Buried Pyramid Page 29