Hadji seemed to warm to his subject as he continued. "And then comes the best part. You see, my friends—oh, Dr. Langly, you already know this, don't you?—once all seven of the immortals are with us again, they shall summon forth the god Anubis from the limbo of the ancient gods, and he shall come to us and grant us our reward. We shall drink these souls"—he waved his hand once again around the room—"and we shall become immune to disease, invulnerable, immortal ourselves, living out the lives of the tekenues and then drinking other souls, through the centuries." He smiled boyishly. "Isn't it exciting?"
"Hadji," Roderick said, "wait, listen, please. I'm a rich man. I can give you—"
"Forget it, Roderick," Sam said. "I already tried that."
"Quite," Hadji said. He cocked his ear toward the door. "Oh, dear, I think the ceremony is about to begin. We'd better take our places." Hadji walked to the door and shouted an order to the guards who stood outside, each armed as was the guard against the rear wall of the chamber. The two guards from without and the guard within began to pull the captives to their feet and drag them, many of them kicking and screaming, out of the room and up the steps toward the chanting voices. "I hope you will enjoy the temple," he said to Harriet. "It had fallen into a deplorable state of disrepair over the years, but I was delighted to find that my friends had made an effort to clean it up a bit during my absence. We even have a few new inscriptions, like this one"—he pointed to the hieroglyphs above the archway—"and we've given some of the older carvings a fresh coat of paint." As the guards pulled three of the Westerners to their feet, leaving Sawhill on the ground for the time being, Hadji continued, "Of course, once we have reestablished ourselves as in the old days, we shall arrange to have the whole area reconstructed as it once was. It should be quite a tourist attraction. We only need it one night each month, after all. Our current government will support anything which will bring in more Western currency, of course."
Hadji continued chattering away in his mocking, conversational manner as Sam, Roderick, and Harriet were dragged up the stairs and out into the courtyard of the holy place. The ancient mastaba had undergone some repair since last Ahmed Hadji had stood in its midst, but the roofless walls still opened to the starry, moonless sky. A new high place had been constructed of gray marble, and it stood at one end of the long, rectangular court. Upon it rested a new altar of white stone, with sacred texts carved vertically upon the front, and behind the altar a huge statue of Anubis overlooked the entire area. The statue, while obviously new, was nonetheless identical in form and design to the ancient statues of the god, from the jackal head to the human body, from the delicately carved robe which seemed to drape the muscular chest and arms to the ankh clasped in the human hands. Large oil lamps burned high on either side of the altar, casting flickering light upon it and upon the statue of Anubis, which seemed almost alive amid the shifting shadows.
Before the altar knelt Sekhemib in a position of supplication and praise. He rested on one knee, the other drawn upward to his chest as he bent forward at the waist, head bowed and arms stretching out before him, palms forward, fingers pointing up. He was dressed still in a robe of pure white linen, a purple sash tied at the waist; but now he was also draped in golden jewelry. The shiny yellow medallion which was the medium for the power of the god to enter the physical world hung from his neck along with other golden chains. Golden bracelets encircled his wrists. A headband of gold encircled his forehead, and a small cobra, also of fine gold, reared up and out of the headband. His sandals had golden thongs.
Six bodies lay on the ground before the raised platform upon which Sekhemib knelt before the altar, their heads resting a few inches from the gray marble, their feet extending outward toward the court. Four of them were mummies, and the other two were corpses in a state of putrefaction. The two rancid bodies were those of Meret and Yuya; the four mummies those of Wenet, Senmut, Herihor, and Khumara. All six were waiting motionless and insensate for other people's souls.
Haleel Haftoori rested upon his old, arthritic knees a few feet from the six bodies, and behind him forty other people, all in the same position of genuflection, fanned out in a triangular pattern which was made complete when Ahmed Hadji took his place in the ranks. Forty-two worshippers, one for each of the forty-two gods of the Hall of the Two Truths, where Isis, Osiris, and Thoth sat in judgment on the souls of the dead; forty-two worshippers and the seven immortals. So it was again as it had been in ancient times.
The guards, whose cooperation with the cult was caused by reasons known only to themselves, who had been seduced by promises of money, of women, of wealth, finished dragging the tekenues up from the vault and deposited them roughly upon the sandy stone at the rear of the courtyard opposite the altar and the statue of Anubis. Thomas Sawhill was the last one brought up and his eyes opened weakly as the guards dropped him with a jolt onto the ground. Harriet sat beside him, weeping softly. Sam sat beside her, and Roderick beside him. None of them spoke, but each uttered a few muffled, choking sobs, thus joining in the soft, terrified desperation of the assembly of tekenues.
The rhythmic chanting stopped for a long moment. Then Sekhemib rose to his feet and turned to face the assembly. He spoke as always in the long dead tongue of the ancient land. Of the tekenues, only Harriet Langly could understand him, but she paid only scant attention to his words.
"Long have you watched and waited, beloved of the gods," he said to the still kneeling priests. "Tonight is the reward for your faithfulness. Tonight shall you partake of the blessing of Anubis, and from this day forth shall the eternal darkness of death be held from you."
A few frenzied cries of "Anet hrauthen neteru" broke from the assembly, and Sekhemib raised his hand to silence them. "Let us praise the gods, let us sacrifice to them and spill the sweet life-wine upon the altar of Anubis, let us each take the sacrificial blood upon our foreheads, and fill the air with words of praise to the Prince of Eternity." Sekhemib looked directly at Hadji, who stood up quickly when the ancient priest said, "Ahmed Hadji, priest of Thoth, rise and approach." Hadji tried in vain to repress the blushing smile which spread across his face. So I am to be especially honored, he thought, for my services to the lord Sekhemib! He will command me to initiate the sacrifice and pour the blood upon the altar, and I shall be the first to take the ritual blood upon my forehead!
Hadji bowed deeply to Sekhemib. "My master honors me beyond words!"
Sekhemib nodded at Hadji and then said to the assembly, "Ahmed Hadji, the priest of Thoth, traveled far through much danger to bring me and my companions home to Egypt. For this he merits our thanks and our praise." A muffled chorus of goodwill toward Hadji arose from the assembled priests.
Sekhemib's eyes went suddenly cold and he stared hard at Hadji. "But I instructed him to burn the bodies of the tekenues of my beloved Meret and my brother Yuya, and he disobeyed me. They were subjected yet again to the pain of death because of his disobedience. For this, he merits death."
Hadji's face still held the remnants of a smile as the meaning of the words sank into his brain, as the two guards who stood on either side of the altar approached him and grabbed him firmly by the arms, as a third guard drew a ritual dagger from its sheath. Hadji looked at Sekhemib with disbelief. "My lord—my lord, this is—" The two guards pulled him to the altar and bent him over it so that his chin rested just beyond the blood gutter which had been carved into the altar top. They twisted his arms to the breaking point and held him motionless. "No, wait, my lord," he sputtered, "this is a mistake—I did burn the tekenues, I swear, I swear—my lord, please—I did as I was commanded, I swear, I swear . . ."
Sekhemib ignored him. Turning to Haftoori, he commanded, "Haleel, servant of Anubis, call forth the new priest of Thoth and stand him before me."
Haftoori said a few words in Arabic, and from the shadowy recesses of the corner of the mastaba courtyard, little Faz walked happily forward. He was clean and groomed and dressed like the others in a robe of pure white linen. He s
tood in front of Sekhemib and beamed up at him. Sekhemib smiled at the little boy. "Thou hast been of service to me and to the gods, my child," he said kindly, "and we shall reward thee with a gift which thou art yet too young to appreciate. But we shall teach thee and train thee and nurture thee, and thou shalt be a joy to us and a joy to the gods until the end of the world." He nodded at the third guard, who held the drawn dagger, and he reached over and removed the chain with the golden medallion from Ahmed Hadji's neck. He handed it to Sekhemib who lifted it high and cried out, "I now proclaim that Faisal, the son of Ali, is the new priest of the god Thoth. Let us honor him and honor his master."
"Anet hrauthen Tekhuti!" the priests cried in unison. Praise to you, O Thoth. Sekhemib placed the golden chain around the child's neck.
"My lord—" Hadji wept with trembling voice, "my lord . . ."
Still ignoring him, Sekhemib said to Faz, "Go now and stand with the old one, and do what he does." Faz understood not one word of what was spoken to him, but Haftoori translated for the child, who nodded and, still grinning impishly, hopped over to the old man. He knew that for some reason his uncle Ahmed was about to die, but it did not bother him. Life was cheap in the slums of Cairo, where little Faz had spent all of his brief life while his wealthy uncle lived in luxury and opulence. The prospect of seeing his uncle murdered did not disturb little Faz. He had seen many people murdered. And he had never really liked his uncle.
Sekhemib turned back to the altar and took the dagger from the guard, who bowed and stepped back off the gray marble platform. The ancient priest slowly placed the tip of the dagger upon the throbbing skin just above Hadji's carotid artery. Hadji cried out, "My lord, I rescued you from oblivion! I saved you from the darkness of death! My lord, I have served you well! Do I not deserve better than this? Do I not deserve thanks?"
Sekhemib's lips curled in a cold, inhuman smile. "I thank thee," he said, and then drove the blade home.
Pain and shock stretched Hadji's eyes wide as his blood burst from the wound, a sanguine fountain spurting out and drenching the altar, splashing loudly upon the stone. He tried to cry out, but only a rasping gurgle escaped from his lips amid the flow of blood. His body shook and jerked spasmodically as the light of awareness slowly faded from his eyes and then went out entirely. The guards held him over the altar until the blood ceased to spurt, and then dragged his body away, tossing it unceremoniously into the same corner in which Faz had been standing.
Sekhemib looked out over the assembly, whose faces registered shock, sorrow, and fear. "Be it known to all," he cried, "that the gods bless the obedient and destroy the disobedient." He took the dagger and dipped the blade into the red pool in the blood gutter. Holding the bloody knife aloft, he cried, "Anet hrauthen neteru!"
A brief, almost imperceptible moment of hesitation, and then the priests responded, "Anet hrauthen neteru!" Homage to you, O gods. Haled Haftoori took little Faz by the hand and walked forward with him to the foot of the altar. He knelt and the boy imitated him. Sekhemib wiped the flat side of the dagger across the old man's forehead and said, "Anet hrak Set." He alone was privileged to address the gods in the familiar form.
"Anet hrauten Set," the priests chanted in reply. Homage to you, Set.
Sekhemib wiped the dagger on the child's forehead. "Anet hrak Tekhuti."
"Anet hrauthen Tekhuti," came the response. Homage to you, Thoth. Sekhemib went through the list of the names of the gods in the ancient pantheon, and each priest of each god in turn came forward and received the sacrificial blood upon the forehead.
When at last each priest and priestess was back in position, the ancient high priest of Anubis turned to the altar and cried out, "Au arina neterhetepu, perchkheru en khu!" I have made offerings to the gods, I have sacrificed to the spirits!
"Anet hrauthen neteru," came the response of the priests.
"'Anpu kheq tetta, nekhemkua am aterit!" Anubis, Prince of Eternity, deliver me from calamity.
"Anet hrauthen neteru!"
"'Anpu neb nest, nekhemkua ma 'aputat utetiu themesu!" Anubis, Lord of Thrones, deliver me from the messengers of evil.
"Anet hrauthen neteru!"
"'Anpu ned Ut, 'Anpu chent neter het, 'Anpu neb nifu, nekhemkua ma ab." Anubis, Lord of the City of Embalming, Anubis, Dweller in the Tomb of the Gods, Anubis, Lord of the Winds, deliver me from death.
"'Anpu, nekhemkua ma ab! Anet hrauthen neteru!"
Sekhemib turned to the assembly and nodded to the guards. They took hold of the arms of Thomas Sawhill and dragged him forward, placing him beside the mummy of Senmut, high priest of the god Ra. The mummy wore its medallion upon a golden chain, and the guards slipped the chain over the mummy's head and placed it around Sawhill's neck. Then they retired to the area where the sobbing, terrified tekenues lay bound and weeping.
Sekhemib stepped down and walked to the foot of the mummy, turning then to face both the altar and the motionless form. "Anet hrak, Senmut!" he cried. "Aua Sekhemib abu 'Anpuf rexkuak, rexkua renk!" Homage to you, Senmut! I, Sekhemib, the priest of Anubis, I know your name. "Tekenu enti khenak! Iuk enn tern sekhauk, iuk em arauk!" The tekenu is with thee! Come to us without memories of evil, come to us in thy form. "Auk er khekh en khekh, aha khekh!" Thou shalt live for millions of years, a life of millions of years!
"Anet hrak Senmut!" the priests cried in unison. "Anet hrauthen neteru!"
A sudden wave of incredible pain swept over Thomas Sawhill, rousing him to sudden, horrid consciousness. His eyes stared wildly around and a scream of agony burst from his throat. He continued to scream as his flesh withered, as his heart and lungs began to grow hard and rigid, as the shrinking skin crackled and blistered all over his crumbling form, as blood and mucus began to gush forth from his pores, his mouth, his ears, his nose, his eyes. He screamed and screamed and then froze in mute pain as his chest collapsed inward, as the skin of his face drew tight against the bones of his skull, as the internal disintegration proceeded apace and the leathery form which had been a living man but a few moments before twitched and then lay still.
Harriet Langly watched with a strange detachment. She wept and felt sorrow, but she was not overwhelmed by the hysteria of grief which she felt she should have experienced. Something had died in her, some element of the spark of human feeling had been snuffed out by the endless succession of horrors. She looked sadly but with resignation as the crumbling corpse of the man she loved was picked up and carried to the rear of the temple and dropped like a bag of rubbish onto the sand just outside the door.
The mummy of Senmut, the high priest of Ra, rose slowly and stiffly to its feet. Two attendant priests quickly stripped away the linen shroud which had rotted onto his pink, fresh flesh, and then reverently washed him. When after a few minutes they had removed the dust of the long millennia, they slipped a white robe over his head. Senmut turned and smiled at Sekhemib, who smiled back at him. Then Senmut raised his hands and cried out, "Anpu, anet hrauthen, suten neteru, xepera xer khat, kheq tetta!"
Those are the words they carved above the doorway, Harriet thought distractedly. Anubis, praise to you, King of the Gods, who came into being in ancient times, Prince of Eternity Then she thought, Oh, Tommy, my dear love, Tommy, Tommy. She wept afresh, quietly, as if she had not the strength to mourn.
Something was buzzing about in her mind, but it did not assume a comprehensible form. Something she had heard. Something.
Two guards grabbed Roderick and dragged him forward.
The young man was weeping, begging, pleading with them, but they silenced him with a blow to the mouth. They tossed him down beside the rotting body of Yuya and placed the golden medallion about his neck. He tried to rise, but they kicked him in the chest, knocking the wind from his lungs, and he lay there stunned.
"Anet hrak, Yuya!" Sekhemib began again. "Aua Sekhemib abu 'Anpuf rexkuak, rexkua renk!"
Sam and Harriet watched silently as the words of the ritual were spoken over the body of Yuya. They closed their eyes and tried no
t to listen to the frenzied screams of the young Earl as he felt his body disintegrate, as wave after wave of pain swept over him, as his life was sucked from him by the putrid corpse of the ancient high priest of Set. His screams grew fainter and fainter, weaker and weaker, and then ceased.
"Sam?" she muttered.
"Yeah, kiddo?"
"Thanks. Thanks for trying."
Sam sniffed back a tear. "We had to try, all of us." He paused and then added, "Tom really loved you, you know"
She smiled sadly. "I know. I loved him too, more than anything or anyone in the world."
They watched in numb attention as Yuya rose again from the dead and was ritually washed by the attendant priests. Two guards took Harriet by the arms and pulled her to her feet. "Goodbye, Sam," she wept.
"Goodbye, boss," he whispered as they took her forward and placed her beside the body of Meret. She did not resist, she made no effort to rise or run. She lay, resigned and softly weeping, as the golden chain was placed around her neck.
Yuya was facing the altar, and she turned her head and watched him as he cried, "'Anpu, anet hrauthen, suten neteru, xepera xer khat, kheg tetta!" Anubis, praise to you, King of the Gods, who came into being in ancient times, Prince of Eternity.
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