CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Necropolis
THE NEXT MORNING we were up before the sun, wanting to arrive at the Valley of the Kings in the coolest part of the day. I vowed to put all my secret-mission intrigue behind me for now and concentrate on the unspeakable thrill of being on an official excavation team. I was quite sure I was the first eleven-year-old to be in such a position.
The Valley of the Kings doesn't look like much, truth be told. It is the most barren, dry, desolate collection of sandstone cliffs and ravines imaginable. However, the atmosphere of the place is nearly overwhelming. As we entered the necropolis, the air grew thick with the weight of old souls and lingering mut and akhu, remaining long after the bodies were gone. In spite of the near-blinding glare of the sun, the valley felt dark to me, as if the tunnels that peppered the desolate cliffs reached down to the Underworld itself and allowed the darkness there to seep back up through the earth's crust.
I shivered. Even the lone guard who patrolled the entrance to the valley seemed touched by the dark forces. He was rude and surly and almost wouldn't let us pass.
Mother kept a sharp lookout for the gentleman who owned the right to dig in the valley. It was highly unusual for us to be allowed back in, but since my parents had laid an earlier claim to the tomb of Thutmose III and had managed to convince the rights-holder that we were there for recording purposes only, the Antiquities Service had allowed the exception.
The tomb we were looking for was at the very end of the valley. A small crowd of men in black robes and white turbans waited for us at the base of the cliff. There were two Europeans with them. One was a thin whippet of a man, and the other put me more in mind of a bear. A bear who had just very unhappily awakened from his winter hibernation. Mother introduced him as Kazimerz Jadwiga of the Polish Institute. He had a thick brown mustache that drooped mournfully, and his eyes were kind but sad, as if he expected to have his heart broken at least twice before luncheon. I liked him immediately and vowed to think of some way to cheer him up.
The whippet fellow was Gunter Rumpf of the Berlin Archaeological Society, a pale, intense man who stood extremely erect. He had thin lips and flared nostrils. His hair, which he wore longer than was fashionable, was straight as straw and swept straight back. Instead of offering me his hand as Jadwiga had done, he peered at me over his small gold-rimmed spectacles, as if he did not quite believe what he was seeing. However, before I could decide whether or not to be offended, Mother called us all to work.
The access to Thutmose Ill's tomb was particularly tricky, as it sat high off the ground, perched atop a cliff between two pillarlike formations of rock. Just looking at the small entrance made my heart beat faster—and not simply due to excitement, although there was plenty of that. I felt some trepidation as well. The last time I had been there, I had come face-to-face with some of the most ruthless Serpents of Chaos in a deadly showdown. Even now, if I half closed my eyes, I could hear von Braggenschnott's cruel laughter echoing out from the tomb's shadowy depths.
Nonsense. I'd seen von Braggenschnott myself in Maspero's office back in Cairo.
Unless he'd managed to beat us here. I glanced nervously up at the tomb entrance.
We settled our donkeys at the base of the cliff and dismounted. The men got busy getting out the tools and equipment we'd need, and soon we were ready to enter Thutmose Ill's burial chamber. Fortunately, I would not be the one who would enter first. That honor was Mother's.
I watched her climb the crumbling set of steps that had been set into the rock, then cross the last distance on a rickety ladder. Next up was the Polish fellow, Jadwiga. He was such a broad, solid man that I was afraid the ladder would crumble under his weight. He was, too, if the doleful look on his face was any indication. However, the ladder proved to be much stronger than it looked and he made it to the top in one piece.
When it was my turn, I stepped carefully on the crumbling steps, not wanting to send a shower of scree onto the fellow below me. Although his turban was so thick and padded that I'm not sure he would have felt a thing.
I had planned ahead this time and brought a pair of Henry's trousers with me to wear under my skirts so I wouldn't have to worry about anyone seeing my knickers. It is surprising how much confidence one gains when all one's limbs are thoroughly covered.
The ladder was downright wobbly and I tried not to think of the hard rock below. There was a bad moment at the top when the ladder didn't quite reach the ledge outside the tomb opening. Much to my relief, Jadwiga was there, holding a hand out to me.
"Thank you," I said, when I was safely on the cliff ledge.
"Ja," he said in his glum voice. "Wouldn't want you to tumble to your death before we'd even set foot in the tomb."
We really had to do something about his dour outlook.
Mother's men unpacked the electric torches she'd brought and handed them around, and then Mother came over to me and gave me a bright smile. "Are you ready, dear?"
I smiled back, thrilled to be included as an equal on this dig. "Ready!" She took my hand in hers, then frowned.
"Tell me you didn't bring that wretched reticule with you."
"Er, yes," I said, whipping my hand with its heavy weight away and hiding it behind my back. "Still practicing," I said, then ducked around to her other side and grabbed her right hand with my left.
She sighed and shook her head, as if I was a great trial to her, and then together we approached the mouth of the tomb.
At the threshold, I felt the ancient magic swirling in the dark, just past the daylight, the pressure of it throbbing against my skin, like the beat of a drum. Or a heart.
"I love this part," Mum confessed in a whisper. "That moment when we step into the past and all the wonders that it holds."
Together, we went inside.
I shuddered violently as the flood of mut and heka washed over me. I took slow, deep breaths and hoped that Mother hadn't noticed.
"It is a bit chilly in here after the sunlight," Mother said. I looked at her sharply. Did that mean she had actually felt something similar to what I felt but merely dismissed it as a chill? However, she looked thoroughly unperturbed. Drat. For a moment there I had had a flicker of hope that she, too, had an ability to detect curses and black magic, albeit a latent one.
We proceeded down the corridor to the first stairway. The others followed. I felt as if I were wading through a stream of sinister, shadowy things with power that plucked at my flesh, wanting to find a way in. There was the heavy presence of old souls, pressing down on me, wanting to chase me from this place. My fingers crept up to my throat, where I wore three amulets of protection. As my hand closed around them, the sensation lightened somewhat. I sent a silent plea up to whatever Egyptian gods might be listening to please forgive us for trespassing on their sacred space.
I gripped the electric torch more tightly, grateful for its solid feel in my hand. If the gods or spirits were watching, I couldn't help but wonder what they might think of such a technological advance. Would they see it as magic, perhaps? My heart gave a tiny leap of excitement. Were electric torches magic? Was science simply magic explained? I grew a little dizzy with the thought.
A big, thick hand reached out and grabbed my arm, jerking me back. I looked around to find Jadwiga shaking his massive head at me. "Be careful, ja? You are too young to tumble to your death."
I glanced back to see that I had nearly plowed right into the ritual shaft, a gaping hole that spanned for yards, then plunged downward for who knew how far. Perhaps right down to the Underworld itself. "Thank you, Mr. Jadwiga," I said, vowing to keep my mind on matters at hand and not on philosophical questions.