Trueth peered into the dusty dark tunnel looming ahead of her. She had not enjoyed this place the first time round and things had not improved in the meantime.
'Are you ready?' Metjen asked.
Even a boring lecture was preferable to whatever might await her at the temple. So she nodded, and they followed the professor through the half light of the underground passage into a courtyard awash with the first sunshine of the day.
Metjen's father stopped to point out the craftsmanship of the lintels and other peculiarities of ancient architectural feats his son seemed to take for granted as he kept checking his watch. Trueth noticed he was sweating despite the early morning cool.
For once, the professor attempted to keep the interest of his audience, a challenge given it still was unclear what the purpose of the building had been.
'It wasn't part of a funerary temple, the layout and the general orientation is wrong, it wasn't a tomb—noble or otherwise. And it's unlike the symbolic palaces around Djoser's pyramid. It's just there.' The professor's friendly face drooped with genuine bafflement. He polished his glasses, then beckoned for them to follow him towards the passage the archaeologists had found first.
He shone his flashlight inside. 'This runs on straight into the distance, until it meets up with the wall of another structure from the New Kingdom. Its builders even nicked stones from this place. Nobody has left us any inscriptions, we don't have little greetings from the stonemasons. That is rather unusual. At least, this corridor was only filled with ordinary rubble, not that crazy stuff we found crammed into the other one. I will show you something else.'
He took a golf ball out of his pocket and threw it into the gloom. It came rolling back.
'What do you make of this?'
'It slopes towards the courtyard,' Metjen said with a groan. 'Sorry, I don't feel so hot. Can we hurry up a bit.'
The professor stiffened slightly, but turned around and directed them to the opposite end of the stone square where heat had already started to pool.
Pointing back, the professor said, 'Access must have been through that western tunnel behind us. I have no clue what the purpose of this courtyard was, but you can see the remains of pillars here—and there.' He indicated two undignified heaps of rubble. 'And we found broken slabs that make me believe this once had a ceiling. Until it blew up in a major explosion.'
'Father—that's impossible!' Metjen said.
'Well, the Servants started off in the Old Kingdom, didn't they? And they were a lot more powerful back then. So how about somebody was in a shitty mood and hit the roof...literally?'
The professor grinned at his son who pursed his lips then smiled briefly.
The lecture continued. 'Okay, on this side we have the eastern corridor. It was a real nightmare to excavate. I had to get special drills. I even paid for them, but back at the institute they still think me mad.' Concern flitted across the face of Metjen's father and Trueth felt like hugging him, but she was not sure whether he would appreciate such a display of unwarranted emotion. Instead, she watched Metjen as he entered the tunnel
The professor brightened again. 'We managed, and I tell you it was well worth the effort.' With that, he turned around—an oriental maestro, ready to introduce the tabla fortissimo.
Together they went down a few steps into the corridor and Trueth would have continued along the straight passage lined with crooked stones had the professor not stopped her. He joined Metjen, who was fingering a set of raised hieroglyphs next to the doorway.
'Imhotep?' Trueth asked.
Apparently she had scored as the professor beamed at her. He then threw the golf ball once more. again. It rolled along the corridor until it got stuck in a crack. 'This continues downhill, towards the part I want you to see.' They followed black loops of electric cables slung into the passage. There, they fed neon lamps spaced out in intervals too large to throw more than a feeble light into the overall gloom.
A tarpaulin had been draped over the end of the corridor. Metjen gritted his teeth, mumbled something, and the ambience lit up. The professor rubbed his hands.
'Metjen – this you haven't seen yet, so do us the honours.'
With a flourish, the professor threw aside the cover and revealed a wall, its smooth texture unlike any other she had seen in the necropolis—or anywhere else. The best description she could think of was glittery concrete. Metjen shuddered, caught himself and bent towards the short text that had been precision-chiselled into the wall.
'Are you all right?' Trueth asked.
Metjen's T-shirt was drenched in sweat and stuck to his back, and his eyes were bloodshot. He was shivering. They had been celebrating her return yesterday, and it had been a long night. But she felt only tired, not feverish.
'No, but I want to see this. I might be running a temperature, maybe I've caught a bug in Britain.' Metjen made an effort at smiling, yet he did not convince her. Once more, he turned towards the wall to read the engraving. Trueth speculated whether the letters would get inverted should he try to mind-read when facing the other way.
Metjen shook his head. 'This is strange. Though I do recognise a few words. And I'm not talking about Imhotep.'
'My thoughts exactly,' the professor said.
'Eh,' Trueth said. 'Would the esteemed experts care to share their discoveries? My hieroglyphic is not so brilliant. In fact, it doesn't exist.'
The corner of Metjen's mouth twitched upwards. 'We'll change that.'
'I'll translate this for you,' the professor said and took a deep breath.
'To protect the sleepers, To bring across what is lost. In the name of Imhotep who rests with them. Amasis and Ipuemre, Asenath and Ken-Amun, Nobles of the House of Seke. Or Saka. Or whatever. At least I was right. It was a name, the name of a noble house. '
Metjen took two steps back. 'Is that our Amasis?'
The professor raised an eyebrow. 'No idea, but it would be too much of a coincidence. I'm actually quite proud that we now have a proven link between Imhotep and the lost tomb of that lady. And your mother's ring.'
His eyes lit up. 'Isn't this completely and utterly fascinating? It sounds as if Imhotep and a few others are right behind that wall! Minus Amasis of course, given that she's buried somewhere else.'
The corridor was narrow, but the professor still paced in circles, gesticulating in a way that reminded Trueth strongly of his son. Who was leaning against the side of the corridor, his face glistening in the dimming light.
'What we need is ground radar to search for spaces behind that wall,' the Metjen's father said. 'It's possible the corridor continues. I did a projection—this passage is heading for a point straight underneath the centre of the pyramid.' The professor rubbed his hands together. 'Metjen could speed things up with some mind-searching, we could—'
Without a word, Metjen slumped onto the floor and shook his head weakly. The professor stopped lecturing and knelt next to his son. 'What's wrong?' He got no response. Trueth dropped to the floor, reached for Metjen's pulse, found it to be galloping at an alarming speed and tried to share power. Nothing happened. 'I can't help him. We have to move him. Now.'
They heaved Metjen's limp form onto his feet, draped his arms around their necks and dragged him back into the courtyard.
Outside...I need to get...further away from that wall. Something...something's draining me. Metjen's voice faded from her brain.
'Draining you?' Trueth asked.
No response.
Instead his heartbeat sped up further and his breath came with gasps. She tried to share power once more but got no response.
The professor was frantically pushing buttons on his mobile phone. 'I can't get a connection! And an ambulance will take too long.'
'Forget it.' Trueth pushed her hair out of her face. 'Let's get him into the Jeep. It's that wall. He mentioned something. It might work if we drive him further away. We can't stay here.'
The professor stuffed his phone into his shirt pocket. 'We'll have to carry him, you take his feet.' He grabbed his son under his arms and lifted him up, Trueth seized a Metjen's feet which were covered in a pair of grubby trainers. Together they heaved their heavy burden along the underground passageway, up the steps and dropped him into the back of the Jeep.
Still trying to catch her breath, Trueth pressed both her hands to Metjen's chest, drew upon her talents and shot another dose of power into the prone body. This time she got a response, and the frantic pulse slowed. The professor stroked his son's face. 'We need to get a doctor.'
Metjen's eyes fluttered. 'Can't help me. Need rest. Restore sun-flow,' he whispered.
He fell asleep.
The next day, Metjen dragged himself out of bed to hug her goodbye. He could only recall fragments of what had happened. Not even the text he had deciphered had left an impression.
'I can't leave you now,' Trueth said.
His eyes, still bloodshot, stared beyond her. 'Yes you can. I'll be all right. Once you moved me from that wall...it let go.'
'What did?'
'I don't know,' Metjen said. 'It was as if something was sucking first my sun-flow, then my life force. Much worse than sharing power at the temple. Scary.'
'I didn't notice anything.' Trueth bit into a sesame ring. She still worried about Metjen and was not really hungry. But Rani-Ra had warned her about the temple's catering problems.
Metjen sagged onto the sofa. 'It started when I entered the excavation and got worse the closer we got to that wall.'
'You were sweating.'
'That wasn't my biggest problem. It's weird I never noticed that before. Actually, I think it just wasn't there before. Something is off with that wall and I don't dare to go back there and check it out!'
He started at the sound of a motor, then smiled. 'Ah, mother has arrived. She'll take you to the temple, I'm sorry but I can't drive in this state.'
He rose from the sofa, hesitated for a moment, then crushed her in what might have been a bear hug, had he not lost much of his strength. 'Take care of yourself. But I'm sure you won't regret joining the temple.'
'Only for three months!' Trueth was annoyed. A bunch of cranky two-dimensional gods were luring her back to their shrine when she was finally settling in. But she had given her word, so she said her goodbyes to the professor and the twins and climbed aboard the bus.
Mother Al-Nour expertly manouevred through the traffic and eventually stopped right in the centre of the sun-caked desert where only a few dusty rocks hung around, pretending to offer shelter.
'I got you as close as possible dear, but we will need to hike a bit. They don't want to be found,' she said.
A parched march brought them into the neighbourhood of another jumble of cliffs which she remembered from last time. Trueth squinted as she could see movement ahead. A shape shimmied up from below the desert —she recognised the emaciated upper part of Nebmutef with his legs still hidden on the ladder.
'Oh dear,' Mrs Al-Nour said. 'I fear you'll be the last disciple he ever accepts. I need to leave you here, love, they'll care well enough for you.'
They embraced, and as long as she could, Trueth held on to the warm smell of cloves, flour and roses. Then she followed Nebmutef underground.
===
Dedicated to @Ammmmanda and her 'Twisted Kingdom'