‘That’s not quite true,’ Aten interrupted. ‘I journeyed by camel caravan to Nubia some years ago.’
‘Eh?’ Cy frowned at Aten.
‘That’s absolutely fascinating!’ exclaimed MrsChalmers. ‘You will be able to tell the class all about it later.’ She put her hand on Cy’s shoulder and steered him firmly towards the door. ‘We’ll catch up with you later, Cy.’
Camel caravans in Nubia! Omigollygosh! Cy looked back anxiously. What else would Aten say? If he started telling them that Cy had rescued him from a tomb in Ancient Egypt then they would probably lock him up. Or lock Cy up. Or lock both of them. And throw away the key.
‘Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic,’ Cy chanted in a low voice as he ran along to the assembly hall.
Miss Fullbright, the head teacher, had already begun the morning prayer. Cy slipped in at the back and found a seat about halfway down on the right hand side, at the end of a row next to the wall.
As Cy listened to the Head’s voice droning on in assembly he kept glancing towards the double doors at the back. After about five minutes Mrs Chalmers slipped in at the back. Aten wasn’t with her. What had happened to him? Cy craned his neck. No sign of Aten. She was definitely on her own. Where was he? Maybe Aten had just disappeared into the atmosphere. He was really only part of a dream anyway, wasn’t he? Cy looked around him. Maybe all of this was a dream. Was he, in fact, imagining this assembly? The Head was now reading out the weekly good conduct list and Vicky, sitting on Cy’s left, was swinging her legs restlessly. Was Vicky actually there? And how would he know if it was a dream anyway? You never really knew until you woke up. Cy reached up and touched his eyes. He was definitely awake.
Vicky caught his eye and grinned. ‘She does go on,’ she whispered, nodding at the stage.
Cy nodded back absent-mindedly. Perhaps if he concentrated really hard he could imagine himself back in the Pharaoh’s tomb. He looked at the Egyptian wall frieze on the right hand wall just beside him. The river Nile with the outline of a funeral barge, two priests in attendance. The great Sphinx at Giza, with the desert stretching endlessly away. The Pharaoh in his chariot, the plumed horses. The border along the bottom made up of Egyptian symbols, a scarab beetle, a sceptre, the boy with the ankh . . .
The ankh!
Cy’s mouth fell open. The ankh was no longer round the boy’s neck. Very slowly Cy lifted up his own hand. Still wrapped round his wrist was Aten’s ankh. Cy touched it carefully with his other hand. Mrs Chalmers had told him that it was a magical symbol for the Ancient Egyptians. Cy remembered Aten’s terror when he realized that it no longer hung round his neck. What had he called it? ‘My soul . . . my spirit’? What special powers could it have? Cy fingered it gently.
‘Don’t touch that!’ hissed a voice on his right.
Cy turned and looked at the Egyptian wall frieze. From underneath his head-dress one of the priests glared at him ferociously.
‘Dream Master!’ yelped Cy.
The dwarf put his fingers to his lips. ‘Shhh!’
‘What are you doing here?’ Cy whispered out of the side of his mouth.
‘Trying to fix your filthy foul-up!’ snarled the dwarf. ‘Meantime, do not touch that ankh. You will only make matters worse.’
‘How?’ asked Cy. His fingers brushed against the little amulet.
‘It has come through from the Dreamworld so it will have special power in this TimeSpace,’ said the dwarf. ‘But nothing like this has ever happened before so I don’t know what exactly.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘The matter requires some thought.’
‘You mean, you don’t know what to do?’ asked Cy.
‘I am developing a strategy,’ said the dwarf.
‘Omigosh,’ said Cy. ‘You really don’t know.’
‘There is nothing a Dream Master doesn’t know!’ the dwarf snapped back. ‘How dare—’
‘Cyrus Peters . . .’
‘What?’ Cyrus jumped as Vicky elbowed him sharply.
The head teacher had just said his name.
Cy sat up and stared at the stage with a fixed smile.
‘. . . friend from abroad,’ continued Miss Fullbright. ‘And while other arrangements are being made he will spend some time with us. Now I would like you all to welcome Aten.’
Everyone began to clap. Cy gripped the edge of his seat. This couldn’t be happening! Aten was on the stage, in front of the whole school!
‘Mrs Chalmers has told me that Aten has had some interesting experiences.’ Miss Fullbright smiled kindly at Aten. Aten smiled back.
Cy’s own smile became a grimace.
‘In particular,’ Miss Fullbright went on, ‘I believe that you went on an expedition with a camel caravan across the desert?’
‘Indeed, yes,’ Aten nodded confidently. ‘My uncles own many, many camels. They trade perfumes and ebony wood, gold and incense.’
‘Perhaps you would like to tell us a little about it?’ suggested Miss Fullbright.
‘I would be honoured,’ said Aten.
In the audience, Cy whimpered.
‘Well then, young man,’ said the Head. She stood back to usher Aten to the front of the stage. ‘What’s your story?’
Aten gave a huge grin. He stepped forward. ‘Morning glory!’ he said in a loud voice, and, reaching out, he gave Miss Fullbright a resounding thump on the back.
Chapter 11
Cy had never known his head teacher to lose her composure. Not ever. Even on the day he had seen her separate two dogs fighting in the playground she had managed to look calm, efficient, and in charge. She didn’t now.
Partly it was because her half-moon reading glasses shot right off and landed on the head of one of the infants sitting in the front row. Otherwise, Cy thought, she might have recovered more quickly. But, by the time the small, quaking child had handed them back up to her, Aten had got to the bit about the camels breaking wind. Cy slid down in his seat as the hall erupted in laughter.
Aten looked puzzled. He had been trying to explain how sensible it was not to be at the end of the camel train when this happened. He called it ‘blowing air’ but, as he had also used sound effects, no-one was in any doubt what he meant. It was soon after that, and just when he had got started on how much his uncle had paid for the slaves he had brought from beyond the Red Land, that Miss Fullbright interrupted to thank Aten very firmly, and say, although all of this was absolutely fascinating, they didn’t have an awful lot of time left, and no doubt Mrs Chalmers had some things which she wanted to show Aten right now. She then signalled urgently for Mrs Chalmers to come and take Aten away. Cy could see his teacher’s shoulders shaking as she walked up the aisle. The Head didn’t look too pleased, but everybody else thought it was brilliant.
Later, when Cy got to his classroom after assembly, Mrs Chalmers had already given Aten some books to look at while she did the morning class work. Cy heard her explaining to Aten that it was not the normal British custom to slap a schoolteacher on the back and shout ‘Morning glory!’ at the top of your voice. Especially not the head teacher, and definitely not in morning assembly.
Nevertheless, Cy had to admit that Aten’s story had been extremely interesting. And, as Vicky pointed out, it had livened up a very boring assembly.
However, it had also done exactly what Cy hadn’t wanted to do. Made everyone notice Aten. Instead of keeping Aten quietly in class for a day until he could ask Grampa what to do, Aten was now the centre of attention. It didn’t help that he was also fascinated by his trouser pockets and kept insisting on pulling them to the outside of the legs.
During break-time everyone they met laughed and called out, ‘Morning glory.’ Even the infant kids whispered and pointed.
Unfortunately it also attracted the type of attention that Cy normally went out of his way to avoid. Just as break was finishing they ran into the Mean Machines in the corridor.
‘Well, hello, camel boy,’ Chloe said nastily.
‘Well. Hello. Yourself,’ Aten replied cautiously.
‘Considering all these famous uncles of yours traded in gold, you don’t seem to have very good clothes to wear,’ sneered Eddie. ‘They don’t even fit you properly.’ He pointed to Aten’s wrists sticking out the sleeves of the sweatshirt which Aten was wearing.
‘Lay off,’ said Cy, in what he hoped was a commanding tone of voice.
Eddie turned to Cy with wide eyes. ‘Oh . . . and who’s going to make me?’ he demanded.
‘You lot behaving yourselves?’ Mrs Chalmers had come up behind them on her way from the staff room.
‘We were just talking to Aten, Mrs Chalmers,’ said Chloe quickly.
‘That’s nice,’ said Mrs Chalmers. ‘The Head will be pleased that Aten is being taken good care of.’
‘Oh, we’ll look after him properly.’ Eddie gave his teacher his most innocent smile.
‘And the water buffaloes will dance with the crocodiles in the corn under a harvest moon,’ Aten murmured.
‘Water buffaloes with crocodiles, Aten?’ said Mrs Chalmers as she walked with them back to the classroom. ‘That’s not very likely, is it?’
Aten gave Cy’s teacher a long look. ‘Exactly,’ he said.
‘Ah,’ said Mrs Chalmers thoughtfully, and her eyes followed Eddie and Chloe as they went back to their seats.
At lunch-time Cy led Aten away from the crowded playground. Avoiding the path that led to the river, which was strictly out of bounds, they walked towards the sports fields.
‘After school I’m going to ask Grampa what to do,’ said Cy, sitting down on the grass and opening his lunch-bag.
‘Yes,’ Aten nodded. ‘The very old are very wise.’
Cy thought for a minute. Although Cy knew that Grampa had fought in the last war it had never struck him before about Grampa being old. ‘I’ll ask him if he’ll let you stay with him while I figure out how to get you back into my dream,’ he told Aten.
‘I day-dream a lot,’ said Aten. ‘Malik, the chief scribe shouts at me all the time to pay attention. I find it hard to concentrate when I am being taught.’
‘Me too,’ said Cy. He offered Aten a peanut-butter sandwich.
Aten took it and, peeling back the top slice, he inspected the filling carefully. ‘What is this, exactly?’ he enquired.
‘Peanut butter,’ said Cy. He bit into his own. ‘Go on,’ he urged, ‘you’ll like it.’
‘One is reminded of following the camel caravan,’ said Aten. He nibbled the edge of his bread very delicately.
They were almost at the boundary fence where the playing-fields of the secondary school ran alongside the primary school.
‘Oh, look,’ said Aten. ‘Your sister Lauren, with some of her friends. How pleasant.’
Cy looked to where Aten pointed, ‘“Pleasant” and “Lauren” don’t belong in the same sentence,’ said Cy. He picked up his rucksack and got to his feet. ‘Let’s go. Fast.’
‘Hey, small person,’ called Lauren. ‘Stop right there. I want to talk to you.’
‘No,’ said Cy over his shoulder. ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’
‘You’d better wait,’ his sister yelled louder. ‘There’s rumours going about that Aten broke up your morning assembly.’
‘So what?’
‘They’re also saying that he’s one of Mum’s foreign exchange pupils. Did you tell them that, little brother?’
‘It’s none of your business,’ said Cy.
‘Oh, yes, it is,’ said Lauren. ‘We’ve found out about him, anyway.’
‘Yeah.’ Baz nodded. ‘We know.’
‘Absolutely,’ agreed Cartwheel.
‘What?’ Cy asked nervously. ‘You know what, exactly?’
‘That Mum didn’t recognize him this morning,’ said Lauren. ‘So that means that Aten shouldn’t be here, not officially, anyway. You’ve been telling lies.’ Cy’s heart gave a terrific lurch and he gazed at his sister. ‘You’d better come clean, Cyberman, and tell us. Who is Aten, and where does he come from?’
Chapter 12
‘It’s a secret,’ said Cy.
Lauren grabbed Cy by the neck. ‘Brothers and sisters shouldn’t have secrets from each other.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said Cy, struggling to free himself. ‘You never tell me anything. So, since when did that rule apply?’
‘Since I decided it just this minute,’ said Lauren, giving Cy another shake.
‘To save disagreement,’ said Aten, ‘perhaps I should tell your sister and her friends exactly who I am and where I came from.’
‘No!’ cried Cy. He twisted free from Lauren’s grip. ‘No way,’ he said. ‘This lot would tell everybody, and it would cause so much trouble.’
‘I think perhaps, at this moment, not to tell them will cause more trouble,’ said Aten. ‘Let me explain . . .’ He stretched out one hand, palm facing outwards. ‘I offer truth as a gift, yours for the taking.’
‘Oh, no,’ said Cy. He sat down on the grass with his head in his hands.
‘Your brother rescued me from some rather nasty people who would have done me harm,’ said Aten.
‘Nasty people?’ repeated Lauren. ‘What kind of people? What kind of harm? Who are you?’
‘I am an Egyptian. We are quite famous. Perhaps you have heard of us?’
The girls stared at Aten for a second or two.
‘Of course we’ve heard of the Egyptians,’ said Cartwheel, ‘but that doesn’t explai—’
She was interrupted by a sudden shriek from Baz. ‘The Egyptians!’ Baz dug her nails into Lauren’s arm. ‘I know who he is! He’s one of the Jyp-Tyons. I think it’s a new Boy Band from Egypt. Their music’s more funky rock with a bit of sixties retro. The lead singer’s got his head shaved with a pony-tail growing out of the side. Cool!’
‘Cool,’ agreed Aten. He nodded his head and shrugged his shoulders.
Lauren turned to her brother. ‘Why didn’t you say?’ she demanded.
‘Because . . . because . . . they don’t want any publicity. They’d get mobbed by weenies.’
‘Why is he with you in school?’
‘He asked me to take him. He wanted to see what our schools were like. Primary schools,’ Cy added quickly. ‘Not secondary schools.’
‘Where did you meet him?’
‘At the youth club. In the community centre.’ Cy’s brain was exhausted trying to keep ahead in this game where he had to invent something new with each sentence. ‘Enough,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m not answering any more questions.’
At once the girls surrounded Aten.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Baz.
Aten lifted his hand and showed them his sandwich. ‘I am eating a strange substance which, much to my surprise, is not camel droppings.’
‘Why are you here? Where are you staying?’ demanded Cartwheel.
Aten glanced at Cy. ‘I think I will stay with grandfather,’ he said slowly. ‘And I am here because . . . because I am not somewhere else.’
The girls giggled.
‘The things you say. They’re really funny,’ said Cartwheel.
Aten looked puzzled. ‘I speak only the truth.’
‘You mustn’t blab about this,’ Cy pleaded. ‘It wouldn’t be good for Aten if everybody knew about him. And anyway, he’s going away soon.’
Lauren looked at Cy with narrowed eyes. ‘You can’t fool us,’ she said. ‘His band are obviously here for a gig. We want free tickets.’
Cy thought quickly. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘You’ll get the first tickets available, I promise. But only on the condition that you say nothing to anyone, and you back me up with Mrs Chalmers so that he can stay in school for a couple of days.’
‘You’re on,’ said Lauren.
‘You must tell no-one,’ said Cy.
‘You know you can trust us,’ said Lauren.
‘Absolutely,’ said Cartwheel.
‘For ever,’ said Baz.
‘Our lips are se
aled,’ said Lauren.
‘Omigosh,’ moaned Cy, as the girls went off towards their playing-fields. Nightmare city or what? He turned to Aten. ‘It will be all over the school in an hour,’ he said. ‘Why did you let them believe that junk about a group called the Jyp-Tyons?’
‘At no time did I lie,’ said Aten.
‘You did so!’ said Cy. ‘When they babbled on about you being part of a boy band, you agreed with them.’
‘I did not. The only thing I said was the word “cool”, which, according to you, can mean anything. In this case I intended it to mean, “not at all, what you say is completely wrong.”’ Despite himself, Cy laughed out loud. Aten raised his eyebrows. ‘As I said, truth is a gift offered. Although,’ Aten paused, ‘it is sometimes not offered alone. One has to choose carefully. There can be dung amongst dates. Your sister and her friends selected the truth they wished to hear.’
As Aten and Cy walked back towards the playground, Aten turned to Cy. ‘What is this Boy Band?’ he asked. ‘And what is a gig, exactly?’
Chapter 13
‘We’re going to the assembly hall for a rehearsal for our Egyptian play this afternoon,’ said Mrs Chalmers after lunch-break. ‘I’ve put most of the scenery in the cupboard along there now. Aten, you might be able to give us some helpful advice with the costumes and props.’
‘Just be careful what you say,’ said Cy to Aten as the class went along the corridor. ‘It’s better that nobody finds out where you came from. Don’t tell any more wild stories about caravans and sandstorms.’
‘I will guard my tongue,’ said Aten.
In the hall Cy looked again at the wall frieze. The boy scribe looked more calm now, as he sat in the sand with his reed pen and brushes.
Aten pointed to the broken pottery pieces and stones which lay in the sand beside him. ‘These are called ostraca,’ he said. ‘It is what we practise on, until the chief scribe decides that we are ready to write upon papyrus.’
‘A bit like us using scrap paper,’ said Mrs Chalmers. ‘But you should have said “practised” not “practise” in that sentence, Aten, because you are talking about something that happened in the past.’
The Dream Master Page 5