Trafalgar and Boone and the Books of Breathing

by Geonn Cannon

  The car hit with such force, deafening her with the crunch of metal, that Beatrice assumed the ground must have shattered all around them as well. It began tumbling, throwing her against Virago and tangling their limbs until she finally fell through either the open driver’s door or the broken windscreen. She believed she blacked out when she hit the ground. There was an alarming stretch of darkness during the descent, and then she was rolling. Something was broken inside of her, there was no question about that, and she suspected something else had broken through the skin.

  When she finally came to a stop, she was facing the creaking remains of the car. It was upended, wheels still spinning, the air around it shimmering with fumes from spilled petrol. Virago was lying between Beatrice and the wreckage, her legs twisted in a nauseating jumble. Her neck was also twisted at an impossible angle, her eyes staring blindly into nothing. She couldn’t see Lasair, but she assumed the worst.

  Someone approached. She saw only their legs and the dark slacks that seemed to flap slightly with each step. The newcomer stood over Virago for a long moment, then continued on to stand over Beatrice. She tried to look up at him, but her neck didn’t work. Neither did her arms, her legs, or anything below her shoulders.

  “Still alive?” a soft voice asked. There was almost concern in the tone, like a nurse who had come to check on a patient.

  “Finish the job,” Beatrice said.

  The person crouched and put a hand on Beatrice’s face. They sighed heavily. “Ah, if it were only that easy, love.”

  Beatrice felt something burning in her head, then a sudden and excruciating pain which flooded her entire body before giving way to blessed and complete numbness.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The mastabas were located in Giza, a relatively quick southward jaunt along the Nile. They took two vehicles, splitting up once they reached what Dorothy hoped was referred to as “the ancient part of town.” Two pyramids loomed above the smaller mastabas, squat little stone structures with inwardly sloping walls that looked like the foundation of pyramids that were never finished. Each one stood about the height of a home, completely unassuming compared to the grandeur just a few hundred yards away.

  Denny drove them past the Sphinx, which Dorothy had to admit was a crushing disappointment. She’d never made it to Giza on any of her travels, and photographs always made the enigmatic sculpture look so impressive. In reality it was just another part of the landscape not far removed from the city center. People were going about their day without giving the wonders a second glance. She supposed living in the shadow of history tended to make one immune to it.

  “It’s fine,” Denny said with a knowing smile. “Everyone assumes it will be more, ah, monumental.”

  “They are quite impressive. Just...”

  “They don’t jump out as they should. I felt the same way when my father brought me here the first time.”

  They were forced to walk from some distance to the mastaba indicated in Denny’s investigations. The entrance was a slender gap between two monolithic stone walls, the bricks of which were carved with intricate carvings. Dorothy paused to examine the artwork and regretted that she didn’t have more time to fully explore the tomb. Even if it had been looted, there was plenty of amazing things left to discover. She traced her finger over the delicate cuts in the stone, moving closer so she could examine the ink that had been used in each groove.

  She looked at Denny with regret. “This is where you tell me that these will still be here when Amenemhat has been dealt with and we should focus on the task at hand.”

  “Most definitely,” Denny said. “If you require a guide for your return trip, I hope you will keep me in mind.”

  Dorothy nodded and patted the stone, a tacit promise that she’d return one day, and dropped her hand. She turned sideways to enter the courtyard of the tomb. She was holding a torch which Denny had provided and swept it from one side of the passage to the other. It bent and turned on itself so she couldn’t see the end from where she stood.

  Denny moved behind her. “Just around that first turn,” he said. “The main entrance will be to your right. Then the corridor turns to the left, again to the right, and that is where you should find the false door protecting the ka statue.”

  “How easy is it to get turned around in here?” she asked.

  “Nearly impossible,” he said. “It’s not a labyrinth. There aren’t branching corridors that lead off in every direction.”

  Dorothy said, “I’ve been in a labyrinth. I’m relieved to hear this won’t be a repeat of that experience.”

  “That’s one of the stories Leola told us. Did you actually see the minotaur?”

  “See, yes,” Dorothy said, “Although smelling him is the feat I’m proudest of surviving. Wet fur and aged leather.”

  Denny said, “Yuck.”

  Dorothy chuckled. “Oh, he was a sweetheart in the end. Spared our lives, killed the man trying to kill us. What more can you ask from a beast, hmm?”

  “You have a point.” Denny ignited a torch and placed it in the corner where it would illuminate their way. Dorothy could now see that the courtyard was a single passageway with only one entrance. There was no chance they would get lost because there was only one way to go. Denny cleared his throat. “I want to thank you. For letting me prattle on. I’ve been told that my biggest problem is that I never know when to stop talking, and I continue on long after the listener has become bored or forgotten whatever topic it was that started me off.”

  “Bored?” Dorothy said. “Nonsense. One never knows what information will become vital one day, or where that information will come from. It’s education, and the key to a full life is to never stop learning. You’ve taught me much in the short time we’ve known one another, Denny. For that, I’m grateful.”

  Denny ducked his head and smiled bashfully. “Thank you. That means the world coming from you. A-and now that we’re here in this most private of spaces, thank you for keeping my secret.”

  Dorothy was examining the ceiling with her torch. “Secret? Oh. Yes. Think nothing of it.”

  “You don’t think it’s deviant?”

  “I sleep with women, my good man. I shall never be called a hypocrite.”

  They moved deeper into the tomb and Denny laid a second lantern. “The false door is at the end of this corridor. It’s the main offering chamber where tributes could be left for the deceased. Family and loved ones would bring in food and treasures and leave it here. The ka statue was protected by the wall, but there are holes the spirit could use to come and go.”

  Dorothy said, “I’ve discovered it’s far more complicated than that.” She aimed her torch at the dead end ahead of her. “The wall appears intact, so this can’t be Amenemhat’s tomb. Look for signs that it might be Henuttaui’s.”

  Denny took off his pack and sat it on the ground. He removed a squat box made of black metal and began fiddling with dials on the back. Dorothy moved closer and looked at the small screen set into the side of the object.

  “What on earth is that?”

  “You know sonar, yes?” Dorothy nodded. “This operates on the same principle. Sound waves travel forward, then they bounce back, and I use the data to construct an image of what’s on the other side of the wall.”

  Dorothy crouched next to the machine. “I want one.”

  Denny chuckled. “Getting the technology into a portable package was a pain. But once I’ve figured out how to make more, you’ll be first on the list.” He flipped a switch and the box began to hum. Dorothy expected a visual representation of the sound, but all she got was the shaking loose of dust and stone particles from the walls and ceiling. She thought she could also feel a tremor in the ground that passed before she could confirm it was due to the machine. The screen lit up and Dorothy peered down at a blur of shapes in a generally square area.

  “I assume you can make sense out of this.”

  “To a degree. I can’t tell you anything about the fine d
etails, but there is a ka statue in the wall. And the shaft to the burial chamber is just through there. I have rappelling gear if you wish to descend and check it out.”

  Dorothy said, “We’ll save that for after we find hard evidence.” She moved closer to the wall and examined one of the frescos. Whatever it had depicted was lost, scraped away by chisels and time. “I wonder who this person was, if not Henuttaui. What did they do to justify erasure?”

  “Humanity can always find reasons to erase those they disagree with.”

  “Hm,” Dorothy said. “Too right.”

  She had turned in time to see Denny avert his gaze, indicating he’d been staring at her. He knew he’d been caught, so he said, “May we speak frankly?”

  “Always.”

  “The, the ka statue. The incantation, the spells. It really... i-it swapped your bodies? It happened instantly?”

  Dorothy knew what he was hoping for. “Yes. But Denny, please don’t think it’s a... a solution to your gender issue. To begin with, you would need someone to swap bodies with. Even if you found someone similar to you - a woman born into a man’s body - I don’t believe that this exchange was intended to be permanent. From the moment I awoke in Desmond’s body, I’ve been able to access his memories, his mannerisms... I truly believe that if we don’t correct things in an expedience manner, soon I will be unrecognizable as Dorothy Boone.”

  Denny said, “That’s fascinating. Terrifying, but fascinating. A slow fade back to the status quo. Do you believe the same thing is occurring on the ship with Amenemhat?”

  “I do. As my consciousness fades in this body, I have to hope it grows stronger in my own.”

  “But then would it be the same version of you who existed before the exchange?” Denny asked. “Or would it merely be a shadow?”

  “I prefer not to find out.” She walked to Denny and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. If I thought there was a chance--”

  Denny shook his head. “No, I understand. It wasn’t a flawless idea. I would not want to abandon who I am just for the sake of having the proper packaging. I want to be me, not someone else. That’s the whole point of Denny Razek as oppose to Dendera Razek.”

  Dorothy said, “Good for you.” She squeezed his shoulder before sliding her hand down to his upper arm. Denny looked down at her arm and, when he looked up again, Dorothy leaned in and pressed her lips to his. He made a muffled sound of surprise but, while he did tense, he didn’t pull away. Dorothy slipped her free hand, the one holding her torch, around his waist and pulled him close. Denny stepped into her embrace and began returning the kiss, his hands meeting in the small of Dorothy’s back. She felt her body responding and knew Denny could feel it as well.

  “What’s this?” Denny asked when the kiss ended, neither of them moving to part.

  “Remember I said that I’d been assuming some of Desmond’s skills, memories, and mannerisms? I believe that if Desmond had truly been here, he would have wanted to do that. And I’m just impulsive enough to follow through on the urge. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

  Denny shook his head. “No, on the contrary. It was very welcome. I’m not sure if I’m actually kissing him or if I’m... I’m kissing Dorothy Boone.”

  She moved her hands to the lapels of his jacket. “Yes, that is quite the conundrum. But if this were an ordinary excavation, if you were here with Desmond Tindall. Alone and unobserved in an ancient tomb--”

  “This is actually the courtyard, the above-ground public offering space. The tomb itself is well below us, past the bedrock, in--”

  “Denny,” Dorothy said softly.

  He looked her in the eye.

  “What would you be doing if I was Desmond?”

  Denny hesitated, then moved his hands around her waist. He lifted the tail of her jacket and rested his hand on the buckle of her belt.

  “I’ve always... I-I mean, it’s been a bit of a fantasy of mine f-for a long time...”

  Dorothy nodded. She could feel it in her bones that this was something Desmond would agree to, could almost hear his voice in her head as she looked into Denny’s eyes. She backed up until her shoulders touched the wall.

  “I would like very much to help you bring that fantasy to life, Denny.”

  He swallowed and whispered, “Wow. Okay...” He passed his tongue over his bottom lip and looked down. His hands shook as he unfastened Dorothy’s trousers just enough to reach inside. Dorothy grunted and closed her eyes when his fingers found her. There was a momentary struggle with the clothes but then Dorothy felt the warm desert air on her bare skin. The palm of Denny’s hand felt smooth and cool against her. She felt gooseflesh rising on her arms. She flattened one hand against the wall behind her and, with the other, urged Denny onto his knees. He knelt on his jacket as a mat.

  Dorothy focused on a random corner of the tomb. “Des, I do hope somehow you’re able to retain this memory fo-ohh...” She closed her eyes, put her hand in Denny’s hair, and stopped trying to think for a little while. It felt magnificent, familiar but not. Denny seemed very talented at what he was doing, or maybe Dorothy was benefiting from a lack of experience. Whatever the truth, she could barely focus her thoughts on anything other than what was happening below her waist.

  Soon, too soon in her opinion, there was an ending. She gasped and her voice caught in her throat, a rough guttural moan which she swallowed down as she roughly curled her fingers in Denny’s short hair. He kept his mouth on her until she was spent and she slumped against the wall, struggling to catch her breath and trembling from the strength of her orgasm. She looked down as Denny produced a handkerchief and proceeded to tidy up. The sure strokes of the cotton made her twitch again, and she put a hand over her mouth as she laughed.

  “Thank you for that, Lady Boone.”

  “I say this having never meant it more... but the pleasure was all mine. Is there a way I could possibly... ah...”

  Denny shook his head. “What just happened was physical. Anything you do would be mental. It would be you. And I’m not your type.”

  “No. I... I appreciate what you did for me.” She smoothed her hands over her clothes to make sure she was presentable. Her hands were still shaking slightly. “We should finish looking for evidence as to whose tomb this is. We still have the other tomb to investigate before we reunite with Trafalgar and Leola back in Cairo.”

  “Yes. Precisely. Business.” He smiled at her before he turned to examine the other wall. Dorothy straightened her hair and tugged at her belt. Denny said, “You’re wrong, by the way.”

  “About what?”

  “The pleasure being all yours. There was more than enough to go around.”

  Dorothy chuckled. “I’m thrilled to hear that, Mr. Razek.”

  #

  Trafalgar moved to the edge of the burial shaft and shone her torch down. She could see tool marks in the stone where centuries ago, slaves and workmen had cut through the bedrock. She didn’t relish the idea of descending, but the first tomb had been a bust and there was evidence that this was the one they were looking for. The first clue was that the false wall in the chamber was shattered and the ka statue was missing. Leola identified several carvings which gave honor and glory to Amun, which added to the chances they had found what should have been Amenemhat’s final resting place. Unfortunately there was no sign of the Books of Breathing in the above-ground structure, so one of them would have to climb down into the burial chamber.

  Leola came up behind her and peered down into the dark. “Shall we make a wager? Winner gets to go?”

  Trafalgar grinned. “It is good to know your grocer hasn’t tamed you.”

  Leola walked widdershins around the edge of the hole, thumbs hooked in the loops of her trousers. “He’s quite awful to me, if you must know.”

  “Khalid? How do you mean?”

  “Every morning he receives shipments of the finest fruits, brought in from the docks after traveling here from all over the world. I once conversationally men
tioned that I loved pears. So now, every morning, he sets aside the finest pears for me.”

  Trafalgar said, “A true beast.”

  “I have asked him to stop. But he has already stopped making me paper flowers when the shop is idle. I fear asking him for anything else.”

  “Well, a man can only be changed so far. Perhaps you will find a way to live with this enormous character flaw.”

  “I can only hope.”

  Trafalgar chuckled. “So you are happy?”

  “Deliriously so.” She looked up. “And you?”

  “I am content. Lady Boone has proven to be a fitting partner. Though occasionally frustrating.”

  Leola said, “The best partners always have a bit of frustration in them. That means they’ve challenged you. It’s a good thing.”

  Trafalgar said, “I shall endeavor to remember that the next time she is irritating me.”

  “Hm. Yes...” There was something odd about the tone of Leola’s voice, but she changed the subject before Trafalgar could inquire. “Let us decide who shall descend. Paper Scissors Stone?” She held her fist in the palm of her hand, but Trafalgar waved her off.

  “I have had my fill of being lowered into dark, ominous places, while you have been starved for adventure. I would be happy to let you go while I remain here.”

  Trafalgar had never seen anyone look so excited at the prospect of being lowered slowly into a dark tomb. They opened Leola’s pack and Trafalgar helped her get into the harness, double-checking each catch and strap before declaring the rig to be safe. She noticed Leola’s hands were shaking and looked up into her eyes.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Leola assured her. “I love my life. My new job. Khalid. I love it all. But I have really and truly missed this.”