The Eye of Ra

by Dakota Chase

  Tut knelt before the statue and touched his head to the ground. I realized it was the first time I’d seen Tut lower his head to anyone. It was a gesture of how highly he regarded his ancestor, Khufu, I supposed.

  He sat back on his haunches and began to speak. His language was formal, and old-fashioned, not the more familiar everyday speech of the Egyptians. “Behold, the Osiris Ani, the scribe of the holy offerings of all the gods, saith: Homage to thee, O thou who hast come as Khepera, Khepera the creator of the gods, thou art seated on thy throne, thou risest up in the sky, illumining thy mother, Nut, thou art seated on thy throne as the king of the gods.”1

  Tut went on for quite some time. I heard many names mentioned that I halfway recognized—Osiris, Isis, Anubis, and Khufu, among them. “Oh, glorious ones, I humbly beseech aid. Today, there is a great heartache in Egypt. Nefertiti, Lady of the Two Lands, has disappeared. A cobra may be slithering amongst the People, unseen, seeking to poison the throne of Egypt. I beg thee grant me the wisdom to know this viper and the strength to crush it beneath my heel, and thy help to find thy favored daughter, and deliver her safely home.”

  I exchanged a look with Grant. It would seem neither of us thought Tut was likely to find Nefertiti alive, but we couldn’t bring ourselves to tell him.

  Ay was our number one suspect in both Nefertiti’s disappearance and in Tut’s future murder. Somehow, we had to convince Tut not to trust Ay.

  Oh, yeah… and get the amulet. We needed to get it away from Tut, and soon. It was our only ticket home. I know Merlin said time didn’t work the same in the present as it did in the past, but I really didn’t want to take any chances. It would royally suck to go home and find out I was an old man.

  Tut got up and walked back to where we stood. “Come,” he said. “We will go back and prepare to travel home to my palace in Memphis. The gods will give me my answer in their own time.”

  We nodded and followed him outside the temple to where the horses and servants waited. I wasn’t looking forward to getting on the chariot behind Meek again, and was trying to convince Grant to switch horses with me, when suddenly Tut froze and pointed toward the south. “Someone comes!” he cried.

  Sand swirled on the distant horizon, the sort kicked up by horse’s hooves. I squinted, but couldn’t make out any figures through the dense cloud. “Who is it?”

  “I do not know. Perhaps the Hittites,” Tut said. He ran toward his servants, taking his bow and arrows from them. “Arm yourselves with whatever weapons you can find.”

  Arm myself? As in, grab a weapon and get ready to fight? I was a thief, not a warrior! I turned toward Grant in a panic, but he looked as startled as me. We stared at each other, then at the barren sand around us. “What are we supposed to do? Throw sand in their eyes?” I murmured.

  There was a wild look in Grant’s eyes as he scurried around, picking up pebbles and rocks from the ground near the base of the temple.

  “Grant! By the time you get close enough to chuck one of those rocks, they’ll have shot you with so many arrows you’ll look like a porcupine,” I said, knocking the rocks out of his hands. “We have to get out of here!”

  “We can’t just leave Tut!” Grant cried. “They’ll kill him!”

  He had a point. Of course, I didn’t want to point out to him that they’d kill us too, whoever “they” were. “Tut!” I shouted, running up to him. He was standing on the back of his chariot, a carved and polished bow in his hands already fitted with a deadly looking arrow. “We have to get out of here, or hide! There’s only one of you and who knows how many of them!”

  He scowled at me. “You would have me hide like a frightened child? The gods will protect me!”

  I could hear them coming now, a muted thunder of hooves striking the sand. Fear squeezed my chest like a giant fist. This wasn’t some goofy reenactment or play—this was for real. Somebody was going to get hurt or dead, and considering there was only myself, Tut, Grant, and a handful of servants, and Tut was the only one armed unless you counted the eating knives the servants held, then that somebody was likely to be Grant or me or both. “Tut, be reasonable! You can’t fight them all!”

  Tut turned back to face the coming horde, his face as stony as the pyramid behind him. Damn him! He was going to get himself killed right in front of me!

  I stepped up behind him on the chariot, ready to throw my arms around him and cart his stubborn ass back inside the temple, when the first of the chariots emerged from the dust cloud. Tut lowered his bow, and I squinted over his shoulder.

  It was Ay.

  My relief was very short-lived. Why had Ay brought what looked like an entire company of archers in chariots if only to fetch Tut back to the palace? What if the anthropologists back home were wrong? What if Tut was murdered when he was seventeen, not nineteen? Two years didn’t seem like much of a margin of error when you considered that Tut’s mummy was over three thousand years old. What if today was the day he died?

  I hopped off the back of the chariot and stood next to Grant. “What are we going to do?”

  Grant shrugged. He looked as worried as I was.

  “We have to do something!”

  “We don’t know what Ay wants, Aston. We have to wait and see,” Grant whispered. “If we try anything—and it would be idiotic anyway since, in case you didn’t notice, Ay has a really big sword, and those other men have bows and arrows, while all we have are stupid rocks—he’ll kill us as sure as we’re standing here.”

  By now Ay had pulled his chariot to a halt about twenty feet in front of Tut. He stepped down and walked to Tut’s chariot. The rest of his men stopped farther back, in a long, straight line. That he was furious was plain enough to see—his brows were knit together in a fierce scowl, and his face was beet red, although I suppose he was mindful of both the servants and his men, since he kept his tone respectful. “My lord, what are you doing out here without an armed guard?”

  “Your place is not to question me,” Tut answered, returning Ay’s frown with one of his own. I was proud of Tut for standing up to Ay and not letting Ay cow him. “Why are you not guarding Memphis? Have you brought me good news? Has Nefertiti been found? Have the Hittites retreated from the borders of Egypt?”

  Ay looked torn, as if he wanted to scream at Tut, and he took a moment before answering. “No, my lord, Nefertiti is still missing, and the Hittites remain camped just outside our border.”

  “And yet you saw fit to bring an entire company of my best archers up the Nile and across the desert? For what purpose, Ay?” Tut didn’t bother to lower his voice, and I could see the archers in the chariot line turn to one another, whispering, no doubt about the king reaming the vizier a new one.

  “Forgive me, my lord. I was worried for your safety.”

  I could see it was costing Ay to ask Tut for anything, particularly forgiveness. It looked as if Ay clenched his teeth any harder, they would shatter.

  “It is no matter. I am done here now. We will return to Giza, and on the morrow, to Memphis. Take my archers and go back to the city. We will follow shortly,” Tut ordered.

  “We will travel with you, to protect you,” Ay said.

  “Do you have sand in your ears, Ay? I said to go back to Memphis immediately, and we will follow at my leisure,” Tut said again. His eyes snapped fire as he stared Ay down.

  Ay stammered a bit, obviously trying to come up with something that would force Tut to let the archers accompany him. I wondered why he wanted to travel with us so badly.

  “The Hittites, my lord. Should you be attacked—”

  Tut raised a hand, cutting Ay off. “Did you not just inform me that the Hittites remained camped outside of Egypt’s borders?”

  Grant nudged me with an elbow. “This is sacred land,” he whispered.

  I glanced at the pyramids and nodded. “Yeah, so?”

  “Maybe Ay doesn’t want to murder the pharaoh where he believes the gods are watching.”

  Grant must have been thinking alo
ng the same lines as me. His theory explained why Ay wanted to travel with Tut. If Ay wanted to murder Tut, he wouldn’t want to do it on sacred ground. Plus, if he did it here, he’d have to kill Tut, us, and Tut’s servants, and probably the warriors he’d brought with him, to be sure there were no witnesses. It would just be easier and safer to do it if he were traveling with us, when the servants were walking far behind Tut and couldn’t see him, and the archers were preoccupied with watching for danger. He could even blame the murder on Grant and me! No one in Egypt would take our word over Ay’s.

  But who exactly were these “Hittites” Tut mentioned? Enemies of Egypt, no doubt. It seemed to me that ancient civilizations were always fighting with one another.

  I thought briefly about the wars going on in my own time and figured that nothing had really changed much in three thousand years.

  I held my breath, silently praying for Tut to stay strong and to send Ay on his way. We’d have to keep a careful eye out on the way back, just in case Ay planned to ambush Tut, although I didn’t think Ay would be that stupid. His archers would wonder why he wasn’t accompanying them back to Memphis, and if he kept them with him, it would be difficult for him to wait in ambush to kill Tut while his men were watching.

  “My lord, surely you can understand my reluctance to—”

  “You try my patience, Ay! Do you seek to embarrass Pharaoh in front of his troops and servants? Or has the time come for you to step down as vizier?” Tut hissed.

  I watched as Ay’s face, furiously red just a moment before, paled. “Of course not, my lord. I am ever a faithful and obedient servant. I have served Egypt and you well these many years since your father’s death.”

  “Then go. This conversation has reached its end.” Tut lifted his chin, staring straight over Ay’s head.

  Ay turned away, but not before I saw furious anger and hatred in his eyes. If I hadn’t been sure before that Ay was the one who’d murdered Tut, I was now.

  We watched in silence as Ay ordered the archers to turn and led them away. It wasn’t until the sand kicked up by the horses’ hooves on the horizon settled that we began to ready ourselves to leave.

  Tut’s face was still granite-hard, his body tense. I could tell he was angry, but whether it was because he now suspected Ay of plotting against him, or because his authority had been challenged in front of us, his servants, and the archers, I didn’t know. Somehow, I got the feeling that Tut believed the gods had just given him the answer he sought, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.

  All I did know was that things were heating up in Egypt, and I wanted to snatch the amulet and get home before Grant and I ended up roasting in the fire.

  * * *

  1 The Papyrus of Ani (Egyptian Book of the Dead). “A Hymn of Praise to Ra When He Riseth in the Eastern Part of Heaven.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “THIS IS ridiculous,” I said. I’d been pacing back and forth in my small room for what felt like hours, and probably was. If I kept it up, I was going to wear grooves in the rock floor. I’d been on edge ever since we’d gotten back to Memphis from Giza the night before. The look on Ay’s face when he’d left us at the pyramids haunted me. I had the feeling things were going to go bad, very quickly.

  It was morning, but I hadn’t slept much. Neither had Grant, and he’d come knocking on my door before dawn.

  He sat cross-legged on my bed, watching me. He didn’t say anything, but I suspected he was as frustrated and worried as me. We had to get out of Egypt, and we were running out of time.

  “How can it be so freaking hard to steal one stupid, little piece of jewelry?” I fumed. “It didn’t take me this long to figure out how to hot-wire a car!” I stopped pacing and looked at him. “And you! You broke into an office building. Why is it you can’t sneak into Tut’s bedroom? It’s not like he has the place wired for alarms.”

  Grant snorted. “No, he just has a pair of really big guards with really pointy swords standing outside his door. Plus, let’s not forget that we were such great thieves that we got caught, remember? We don’t want to make the same mistakes here. We won’t go to juvenile detention if we get caught—we’ll go to the cemetery.”

  I sat down next to him, rubbing my neck as if I could already feel the guard’s sword at my throat. “Yeah, don’t remind me. So, what do you think we should do?”

  “Go swimming.”

  I blinked and stared at him. “What? You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope. Think about it. We know Tut takes his amulet off when he takes a bath… remember the first night we were here? We saw his servant help him take it off.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Well, it stands to reason that he doesn’t like to get it wet, or it’s too clunky to wear in the water. If we went swimming, he’d probably take it off there too. We just have to get him to go with us without his servants. While he’s with one of us in the water, the other can snatch the amulet.” Grant smiled smugly, as if he were convinced he’d thought of the answer to our problem.

  “There’s just one thing wrong with your plan, O great genius,” I said.

  “What? There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s perfect!”

  “Oh, yeah? Have you seen any built-in swimming pools or water parks while we’ve been here? When Egyptians go swimming, they go into the river, remember?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “And that’s a problem because…?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “The Nile? Snakes, crocodiles, hippos? Any of this ringing a bell?”

  He huffed, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I don’t hear any brilliant ideas coming from your direction. We’ll be careful, and we don’t have to be in the water for long. Just a few minutes would do it. Once we have the amulet, we’ll get sucked back to our time.”

  A new worry etched another wrinkle in my forehead. “We hope we’ll get sucked back to our time. What if Merlin is wrong, and his magic only works in one direction?” I asked.

  Grant’s eyes widened “Don’t even go there,” he cried. I guess he hadn’t thought of that possibility either. “It has to work! I can’t begin to think about being stuck here for the rest of my life!”

  “Yeah, me too. I couldn’t stand it! I’d have to throw myself to the crocodiles. All right. We’ll give your plan a try.”

  He seemed to relax and smiled at me. “Good. When should we talk to Tut?” Grant asked.

  “The sooner the better, I guess. After breakfast?”

  “Okay.” He took a deep breath, then stood up. “Let’s go do this thing.”

  WE SAT across from each other on Tut’s bed with Tut between us as we ate our usual breakfast of fruit, meat, and bread. I was waiting for Grant to bring up the subject of swimming—it’d been his idea, after all—but I guess he was waiting for me to do it. As a result, neither of us said anything. We just stared at each other, trying to give the other the message with our eyes.

  “You are too quiet this morning, my friends,” Tut finally said, looking first at Grant, then at me. “Did you argue?”

  “Huh?” I looked at Tut. “Argue? Nah, we’re fine.”

  Tut reached for another hunk of bread. “Ah. This is good. No argument was ever won by silence,” he said. “I sense something is wrong, though. You usually chatter like a pair of monkeys. What is it?”

  Grant and I looked at each other again. “Nothing’s wrong, it’s just that, well, we, uh… we were wondering if you’d want to go swimming with us later, Tut,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I added. “Just the three of us.”

  Tut cocked his head at us. “Why? If you wish to bathe, I will have the servants attend you.”

  Damn! “No, that’s not it. Um….” My mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse to get Tut alone at the river. “In our country, people often go swimming for fun. You know, just to hang out with their friends and forget their problems for a while.”

  Grant chimed in. I noticed that his grin was strained. I could practically see every to
oth in his mouth. He was trying too hard. “Yeah! It’s fun, and it’s good to get away for a few minutes. You’re under a lot of pressure, Tut.”

  “Yes, but I am pharaoh. It is to be expected,” Tut replied. “I cannot forget my duties. Nefertiti is still missing, the Hittites remain camped just outside our borders, and Ay….”

  “And Ay…?” I prompted. I suspected it was right there on the tip of Tut’s tongue. I wanted to hear him say it. Say it, I thought, trying to project my thoughts into Tut’s head. Say that you don’t trust Ay. Then at least I can go home without worrying that you’ll just let him walk up to you and kill you.

  Tut shook his head as if to clear it. “It is nothing. You are right. I would enjoy a brief respite. Come, finish eating, and we will walk down to the river,” he said.

  Damn it! What was it going to take to get Tut to admit that Ay was a threat to him? Maybe I should just tell Tut. Blurt it right out. Ay is going to kill you, Tut. After yesterday, I’m sure you believe it now. I just want to hear you actually say it.

  I opened my mouth to try again, to say something—anything—that might get Tut to see what was right there in front of him, when suddenly a soldier burst into the room. He was dressed in the standard Egyptian kilt, a white headdress, and wore a scabbard at his hip. He knelt at Tut’s feet.

  “Forgive me, my pharaoh. Ay has sent me. General Horemheb has sent word of a Hittite attack.”

  Tut dropped his glass, apparently unconcerned by the milk that spilled over the bed, and jumped to his feet. “An attack? Where?”

  “South of here, at a small village. They left their campfires burning to fool our scouts and crossed the river under cover of darkness. The vizier went with the general to inspect the village and has sent word that everyone there is dead. The Hittites have returned to their camp across the river, but Ay and Horemheb fear more attacks are to come.”

  “Where is Ay now?” Tut asked. His eyes shone with excitement. “Is my army ready to march?”