by Mary Deal
Helen and Jibade Ini-Herit arrived with a small group of Egyptian friends. As an American housewife traveling in a Muslim ruled country, Helen accepted the cultural norms and wore Egyptian women's clothing covering all of her body and a colorful wimple concealing her hair. Their group brought an abundant supply of local foodstuffs, even their own cooking utensils.
Aaron had met her parents only a few times. On those occasions, Chione watched him and Jibade bond. Their friendship helped Aaron understand the reason she took so readily to this foster father. The look in Jibade's eyes told of deeper understanding. That was why her parents never interfered in her relationship with Aaron when it existed, nor when it ended.
The sandstorm scared off the paparazzi with their expensive photographic equipment. The blowing sand prevented anyone from spending free time outside. Chione and Aaron spoke in low tones at the far end of the dining tables.
“Something's brought them to Egypt a year early,” Aaron said. “Jibade tunes in to you, Chione. Could he have sensed our difficulties?”
Did Jibade, in fact, have something to offer to help her break through any mental blockages to finding the Burial Chamber? Certainly, he was deeply spiritual, spending time with the local men during prayer breaks. His penetrating eyes said he well understood the paranormal. “I feel drawn to him for support,” Chione said. “This time, Aaron, feelings of dependency have nothing to do with it.”
“I'm glad to hear you say that,” he said, smiling warmly. “We're all growing.”
After lunch, Dr. Withers kept the team together briefly. On the tabletop, he scattered newspapers gathered and sent by colleagues in California. Magnificent photos and articles in the San Francisco Sentinel, Stockton Journal, and the London papers reported what their journalists experienced firsthand. Other major world papers speculated as to Chione's psychic abilities, of which they proved to know nothing. The articles were, perhaps unintentionally, maligning. In other papers, photos and some news written by those without authorized representation at the tomb site were good but lacked depth and conciseness.
Various tabloids and rag mags published exploiting pictures questionably portraying members of the team. Chione perused a few and became angered. “Just look at this!” She held up a cover showing a photo of herself subtitled, “Daughter of the Nile.” Another touted “Reincarnation in Egypt.”
Aaron snatched the papers from her hands. “I suggest we ignore these. They're still laughing at us.”
Dr. Withers waved a hand as if he could not be bothered. “Listen up. I've done a background check on the Yago clan. They're not widely known; however, they have a commendable reputation as artifacts procurers.”
After hearing preliminary details of a very shaky prospective deal with the Yago family, Clifford said, “Gypsies!” Then he took off for Cairo.
While awaiting the arrival of the Directors, and with time on their hands, everyone took the opportunity to get out of the wind. Visiting archaeologists and dignitaries ventured to view other tombs and sites. Marlowe packed up her headache pills and accompanied Radcliffe Stroud, Hadden Bourne, Leigh Stockard and Gram Berkley on a photo shoot nearby. Amenhotep III's royal residence, the Palace of Malkatta with its man-made lake, Birket Habu, the intended subjects. Thomas Banning returned briefly to England. Ginny McLain and her staff of technicians would find plenty to occupy their days.
Bebe and Kenneth left before the others woke in order to catch one of the local taxis. If not early, all were commissioned. Driven by locals, Kendra and Royce rode off in a jeep not speaking to one another. Their lack of conversation was common of late. It seemed Kendra was taken over by her suspicions in trying to keep track of her husband, who seemed to have an agenda all his own.
Too many people needed vehicles. Hopefully, no more would be brought into the area. The glut of foot and vehicle traffic had become unbearable.
Chione and her parents took quick excursions through some of the other tombs in Valley of the Queens and Dier el-Bahri. Though closed to the public, Jibade bribed workers who allowed them access to Queen Tyi's tomb in Valley of the Kings. The next day Aaron accompanied them on a city tour across the Nile. The ever-present stench of urine in the old poverty sections of Luxor reminded them of the beggars' camp below the tomb site.
After a few more days, the sandstorm let up. Quaashie and Naeem supervised laborers digging the camp from under drifts of sand. As yurts were re-erected, the Ini-Herit's group pitched their own tents near Chione's and blended in.
The improved climate meant the Directors would reschedule travel itineraries and arrive soon. Though Chione's dreams predicted work progressing at full tilt, Dr. Withers might have to stall to cover up activity being halted. His quiet look of desperation begged for a clue to continuance, which her dreams had not pinpointed. Nor had seismologists discovered new rock formations.
Jibade went off with the locals. Helen and Marlowe disappeared with Siti to the kitchen for cooking lessons of authentic foods. Chione felt more content and surmised that her parents' visit was the cause of the dramatic feelings of euphoria. Her health and mood swings alternated between cases of sensitive nerves, to elation, to a constant upset stomach, and then, even hunger.
She needed to compare notes with Aaron. “Hey there,” she said, having found him.
“So when does it begin again?” Aaron asked, his expression too serious. “We desperately need to get on with—”
“Certainly your dreams haven't stopped, have they?” she asked. “You've been in….” Suddenly, her face began to heat.
“You've had the same dreams, haven't you?”
Chione glanced away. “I don't know what dreams you've had.”
“Chione,” he said, waiting momentarily for her attention. “Tauret and Tut were close, maybe even—”
She gasped. “You did… how much… you're having the same—”
“I am, aren't I?”
“We must both be receiving a lot of their sensual information right now,” she said, trying to hide embarrassment. If he tapped into the physical aspects of dreams she experienced as Tauret, he would have seen himself as Pharaoh. Tauret and her King most certainly shared a bed of lust. The thought made her face heat again. She avoided looking into Aaron's eyes. Still, the experiences were, after all, psychic in nature and not the real thing. “This can't be forced, but we'd better get serious in the Pillared Hall again.”
“If we can't come up with something on the Burial Chamber—”
“We will,” she said. “Don't you trust that yet?”
Aaron's anxiety to succeed sometimes got in his way. Not waiting for sunset or the evening meal, they went early and sat in the Pillared Hall. Concentration was broken by the others clamoring up and down the ladder in the shaft removing belongings and cots.
As the noise quieted, they tried again. She did not notice a slip in consciousness.
Tauret, petite and elegantly clothed, stood in front of her, eyes heavily outlined with kohl, pupils black as onyx gleaming.
Tauret's image was even more vivid, her glow, otherworldly.
Hair cropped below the ear line, framed clear olive skin. So real, yet ghostly. Tauret motioned her to follow. She floated and took Tauret's hand and felt an electric energy!
Chione's heart beat wildly. Then….
…a gentle sinking feeling…
…like floating down…
…into a room as bright as yellow sunshine. Statues, jars, vases, elegant tables heaped with jewels, clothing in piles.
She was receiving Tauret's telepathic vision. Chione began peering into a coffin, but was frustrated by a blurred image with only one area coming into focus. Tauret disappeared from in front of her as another scene opened out.
Tauret laid quietly, arms crossed over her chest. Over her heart, an unusually large carved lapis lazuli scarab.
Then Chione heard….
“Once my body is discovered….”
Tauret's soft, heavily accented voice, expectant and ghos
tly, reverberated through the eons.
“Remove the amulet from beneath the scarab. No other eyes must see. Wear the amulet, a gift from Almighty Pharaoh.”
Chione thought that at any moment she would faint.
“Do not remove it from around your neck until you understand the meaning of the token. Speak of it to no one who is not Pharaoh.”
Again, Chione saw Tauret's face, so much like her own; in Tauret's eyes, a hint of desperation accompanied by a feeling of waiting and a need to hurry. I promise! Chione said in a mental message. Then suddenly, she snapped back inside her physical body.
“What is it?” Aaron asked. “Too much noise tonight?”
“How long have I been out?”
“Out? You haven't left. You only now closed you eyes.”
“You won't believe what I just saw.”
“Just now? In the blink of an eye? How much did you get?”
“Let me sit here, please. Let me absorb.”
They sat. The next time she opened her eyes she found him slumped. Then he quickly roused. When he saw that her eyes were open, he rubbed his own and stretched. “I have a feeling I wasn't with you.”
“Where were you?” She still tingled with the effects of her vision.
“Suspended somewhere.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Listening to a voice saying that all the children haven't yet reincarnated.”
“So it's true,” Chione said quietly. “The spell was meant for those children.” She could barely contain herself, like she was still inside her vision, or about to go back into it; all the while experiencing Aaron's as well.
Aaron beamed. “Tell me, did I add a piece of the puzzle or what?” He sounded happy to supply something she did not already know.
“We were right,” she said. “Those gifted children who piled up like the stack of mummies, if they are reincarnates of the little ones in the Second Chamber, the children are being reborn.”
“Do you believe the person in the Burial Chamber is going to reincarnate too?” he asked. “Aren't we already stretching things a bit?”
“Can't say. The particular feeling I'm left with is a dire urgency to find the sarcophagus.”
“Urgency?”
“Other than for obvious reasons, I'm not sure. Her intuition told her they must find that chamber soon. Perhaps this was the best time to tell him. She wanted to share her theory with someone and felt she would not be able to withhold much longer. Aaron was the only person in whom she could confide. “Do you remember?” she asked cautiously. “The golden statue in the Second Annex?”
“How can anyone forget?”
“Tauret was pregnant.”
He looked straight into her eyes, his expression one of expectation, then comprehension and surprise. “Could it be…?”
“That statue wasn't an Amarnian figure with rounded hips and full thighs.”
“She was designed to look pregnant?”
“That's what I believe.”
“So if all the children are reincarnating,” Aaron said. “What about Tauret's child?”
Now Chione wanted to tell him everything. Suddenly she felt herself being pulled into another trance. She had intended to tell Aaron about Tauret's message but found she could not speak. Tauret warned her never to reveal the message. She was being pulled into an altered state to keep from blurting it out! Tauret's face appeared again, the face of a woman who could influence a Pharaoh and seal their liaison with her spells. What power she had possessed. Even now, as Chione studied the image, the patient eyes spoke all. Here was a woman much sought after for wisdom. She was also a woman feared for her authority and not to be crossed. Chione felt Tauret's strength and feared her. Then she realized that the strength was not too foreign from how she perceived her own.
The image faded and Chione's thoughts drifted to Queen Tyi. Jibade felt a strong connection with her tomb. That was why he bribed a caretaker to allow them inside. Ever since she visited that Queen's tomb, Chione's emotions had been stirred and a great shift occurred in her psychic sensibility. She was thankful no one else accompanied them. Jibade bypassed studying the walls and opted to sit on the floor of the Queen's empty Burial Chamber. Chione felt a presence surround them. It was a familiar vibration, thought without visual images, and left her mother, Jibade, and her with feelings of deep peace. The glow lingered. That connection could be responsible for her now having dreams and visions with deeper, more distinctive qualities.
Aaron's gentle voice penetrated into her reverie. “What was it inside Tyi's tomb that affected you?”
She roused. Had he been reading her thoughts at that very moment? “I told you. It's in a state of repair. Not much to see.”
“I get it. It's not what you saw. It's what you perceived. What does all that mean?”
“Aaron, you need to deepen your own perception. You'd understand much more.”
“I'm trying, Chione, but tell me anyway.”
“It's this way,” she said. “When you're trying to tune into something, you need to immerse yourself in information about it. That's what I did in Queen Tyi's tomb, immersed myself in surroundings of the Ancients.”
“Why did you pick Tyi's tomb for a meditation?”
“Jibade chose it. Tyi's likeness was found in this tomb, after all.”
Again he hesitated, with an expression she had come to know that meant he had something on his mind.
They sat cross-legged facing each other. “Chione, everyone knows you're getting more than you let on,” he said. “Once in a while you say something no one else could possibly know.” He smiled and took her hands. “Listen, when we first went through the passageway and read the walls, you told us you'd have to gather more information, but you never disclosed your findings.”
“So how do I tell them Tauret was pregnant?”
“It would help everyone to be prepared for what we stand to find in the coffin.”
“I'm not ready to disclose the pregnancy,” Chione said. “I had thought of it only as speculation.”
“It's not something we should keep from the others. They have a right to know. Plus, all the signs are there.”
“Mostly in our visions.”
“You can't find anything about it in the glyphs?” he asked. “You've got to say something.”
“I can't reveal everything, Aaron. Some of it's too sensual.”
“Not that part. Just tell what the glyphs say.”
“Which amounts to a lot of metaphysical implications.”
“You think anyone in this group's not up to hearing about the paranormal, after all we've learned from you?” He glanced at his watch. “C'mon. It's early. The others are still up.”
“You mean tell them now?” She leaned away from him, back into the darkness, needing time to think.
“Why not?” Then he smiled. “Can you hear the music drifting in?”
“It's those laborers Jibade met.”
“Let's join them.” He stood and offered a hand. “The music will put everyone in a more receptive mood.”
31
For the first time in nearly three weeks, the evening was mild. Clifford was in Cairo and Royce off elsewhere. The team, with Marlowe and Kenneth, remained in camp. The bloodthirsty paparazzi had not yet returned. For a while, no one needed to be concerned about the media's spying zoom lenses, which made camera-happy tourists seem docile.
The balmy late-year breezes caressed. No more unpredictable gritty wind came at them from all directions. The workers built a campfire, around which the team gathered. Some of the laborers were invited, delighted to play their instruments.
“Tonight you eat Koushari,” Yafeu said. “Make by Irwin, American cook. He have few news people to cook for.”
“Aha,” Dr. Withers said. “Now we get to see what kind of progress Irwin has made.” He accepted a bowl and passed it to Marlowe.
Irwin joined them carrying more bowls of the tasty mix of macaroni, rice, chickpeas and lentils. “I'm serving sauce on the
side for those of you who can't take the heat,” he said. He always carried a handful of chopsticks, hoping someone would give them a try.
“That's me,” Bebe said, laughing. “Never could eat spicy food.”
“We again have several types of aysh for the bread eaters,” Irwin said as he studied the group curiously. “Doesn't anyone eat meat anymore? That's my specialty.”
“No meat,” Yafeu said quickly and with an exaggerated accent. “Maybe it's camel.”
Siti and Yafeu served American decaf coffee and Egyptian teas. Many had adopted the drinking of hibiscus Karkade. Yansun, from aniseed, was also served since some had complained of becoming hoarse from the dry winds. Tantalizing scents of the beverages wafted in the air and pleased the senses. Around the campfire, a douceur, the gentle sweetness of the local people, fostered friendships.
The musicians knew how to set a mood. Chione sipped hot Karkade and watched purple shadows creep across desert sands. She felt mellow, deeply at peace. She had to tell the group of her findings, that she knew. This could be the best time but she felt no rush. Each of them seemed to want to savor the moment.
The musicians began to play a tune called Cairo; a local hit Chione had heard them play before. Alone at home in California, she sang that very song in accompaniment with Egyptian musicians on DVD. As the musicians strummed, in front of her very eyes, their instruments changed shape. Discreetly, she did a double take and saw the musicians dressed as Ancients. The scent of Queen Nefertiti perfume wafted by. Chione felt her consciousness shift, felt compelled to stand and began to croon the torchy ballad of a person home sick for their beloved Cairo. She poured her heart into the lyrics. Not until she finished the song did she realize how entranced she had been.
As the scene shifted back to the present, “You sing like an Egyptian,” one musician finally said. “With American accent!”
“I didn't know you could sing,” Bebe said. “In Egyptian?”