The Ka

by Mary Deal

“I work at other site.”

  “Another site?”

  “The Norwegians over at Dier el-Medina,” he said. “They don't have such good luck.”

  “I hadn't heard they were wanting to make discoveries,” Aaron said. “They're refurbishing existing tombs.”

  Dakarai smiled sheepishly. Then he beamed, too quickly, and shrugged nervously. “The Yagos. They still like to help. You do business with them?”

  “We considered it,” Aaron said. “But we won't be needing extra funds now.”

  What business was it of Dakarai's? Snooping could give away his position, his involvement with the Yagos. In recent days, Chione had seen Dakarai with that group too many times. Casual conversation, onlookers might think. Dakarai always acted somewhat afraid of her though, cautious of giving away clues to activities inconsistent with his position.

  They followed long legged Clifford downhill, heading toward Dr. Withers. When Dakarai noticed where they were going, too quickly he said, “I must attend to my men.” Then he disappeared into the throng.

  The crowds had thickened in the days since the sandstorm passed and would, again, swell in droves once word of the new tomb and finding the Burial Chamber got out.

  The tent camp below had already erupted into a festering eyesore. Trucks now had to make regular trips to haul away garbage left over after the beggars and animals picked through it. Gradually the addition of more and more tents along the road edged closer to the site. Fortunately, some wise souls in the camp had the foresight to run the open sewers downwind from both their own camp and the dig site. Yet, quite romantic, music drifted up at night and took the bite out of solitude in the desolate region.

  Also out of the proliferage, the scourge of mangy cats and dogs increased. From where had they emerged? They devoured the scraps thrown their way. Yafeu and Irwin paid local boys each day to take the leftovers and other kitchen leavings farther from camp to keep the animals at a distance. Surely, some remnants were given to the many beggars. They would feast on the meat bones, potato peels, vegetable cuttings, fruit rinds and other leavings. No one knew how the families in the distant village of Thebes managed to survive. Other than a few rundown hotels, no other area in the nine square miles that encompassed Valley of the Kings and Valley of the Queens could offer enough full time employment for the locals.

  Uninvited reporters and media teams swarmed about. Other than the few makeshift hotels that were hastily put up across the greater necropolis and a handful of better ones in Karnak and Luxor, where did they stay? Each was intent on catching that one news item of the day that would sell a few thousand additional copies of their hometown newspapers.

  Jeeps and antiquated vehicles were strewn along the side of the narrow rutted road, the area looking much like a junkyard. Yet each rickety contraption was ready for use at a moment's notice. Even a faded white Mercedes limousine was parked nearby, it's body full of dents and wear and rusting in spots. Camels for hire were plodded about, their owners looking for paying riders. The animals were kept decoratively shaved and tattooed on their haunches and tails showing ownership. Tarik had said a camel would pee on its own legs to cool down. Every time the winds shifted, it brought with it the odors of urine, camel dung, and human excrement. Hopefully enough to keep the tourists at bay, Dr. Withers had said. As had been the case since the first day, many tourists who bussed in took advantage of the opportunity to experience a brief camel trek. Chione wondered if the stench might change their minds.

  Halfway down the hill, Clifford stopped. “Look at Carmelita,” he said as he stifled a laugh.

  Down along the road, Carmelita inspected the limo as if shopping to buy a car and getting the pick of the lot.

  Aaron could not keep from chuckling. “Look! Look at Parker.”

  There was Parker, hurrying down the road after his wife, motioning for her to return.

  “We got it,” Dr. Withers yelled as they approached. “We got our permit.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. It's you, Clifford. You and your involvement with people in high places. It's all worked in our favor.”

  “Actually, no,” Clifford said. “Remember, Randy thinks Chione's put a hex on us all.”

  “Randy believes in hexes?” Burton asked. “I'd heard digging in Egypt did funny things to the mind.”

  “By the way,” Clifford said. “Where is that little trouble maker?”

  “Transferred to the Madu,” Chione said. Now she resented the thought of team members demeaning Randy as they had in the past. They did not know about the changes that had come over the man; changes they were all experiencing, too personal to notice in themselves, perhaps since all had begun wearing gallibayas and other Egyptian clothing, and preferring Egyptian food and drink.

  “Rashad will be here tomorrow with our new permit,” Dr. Withers said. Still, he sounded resigned, frustrated. “The engineers will begin boring holes in that other—”

  “Sterling,” Clifford said. “I think these kids have something they want to say.”

  Dr. Withers waited and pulled his head wrap farther down over his eyes.

  Chione motioned for Aaron to begin.

  “It's your find,” Aaron said.

  “If one of you doesn't say something,” Clifford said, hugging himself, “I'm going to burst.”

  “Sir,” she said. “I think we've found access to the Burial Chamber.”

  Dr. Withers's expression did not change, nor did his stare. Then he looked from her to Aaron. He looked at Clifford, glanced at Burton. He remained still and looked past them out over the valley.

  “Sterling?”

  He glanced at the ground, out over the valley again, then to all of them. Finally he leaned forward and said, “Did I hear you right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dr. Withers looked at all of them again, almost as if having an inner debate as to the legitimacy of the news. Then he walked unhurried, yet without sauntering, in the direction of the portcullis shaft.

  38

  The cook tent served as the place the team could be away from prying eyes. They could laugh and joke, and touch and hug one another without offending anyone. They were protected from people taking pictures. After team members observed the floor for themselves, and after the evening meal, Dr. Withers said, “Aaron's already sent word to borrow hydraulics from the Norwegians again.” He stood, raised his glass and waited for everyone to come to attention and raise theirs. “We've a lot to be thankful for. Once again, I want to cut to the core. Here's to Chione.”

  “Here, here,” Clifford said, lifting his mug.

  They toasted, sipped.

  “It was Aaron's grid,” Chione said, raising her voice over the cheers.

  “Here, here,” someone said as they toasted Aaron.

  “Here's to Clifford,” Kendra said, thankfulness ringing in every word.

  “Don't forget my husband,” Bebe said, toasting him. He leaned over and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Lately, all the stress of Bebe's life seemed to have left her face.

  Kendra watched Bebe and Kenneth with a look of longing. Royce was not present.

  The pressure was off. Round and round they went with joyous thunder. The Directors and their wives got involved. No one denied the biggest day of discovery was at hand.

  Over breakfast the next morning, probably the final leisurely meal they would have for a while, Dr. Withers took a last bite then laid his fork across the plate. Yafeu's arm came from behind and took the plate and utensils away. Bebe slid her plate to her husband who ate the last bit of food quickly, as if he thought it might be suddenly taken away.

  Egyptian voices rang out nearby. Masud, Quaashie and Naeem and other locals greeted Paki Rashad, who entered the cook tent with his photographer. In a few minutes, they were served meals. After Rashad had eaten, he and Dr. Withers became involved in a social conversation. Chione wondered why Dr. Withers hesitated leading them down to the mastabas.

  Finally, Dr. Withers led Rashad out of the cook te
nt seemingly on the pretense of explaining something and they headed toward the tech shack. It was strange how Dr. Withers could allow himself to get sidetracked from seeing the new tomb. Rashad had arrived and everyone was ready. Then she knew. Dr. Withers was secretly delaying in the hope Randy would return to camp soon. Dr. Withers was truly a fair man.

  Later, when they could wait no longer, as they trod the winding well-worn path to the mastabas, Randy appeared on a camel coming up the road toward them. The lanky animal plodded along as Randy sat perfectly relaxed, undulating in sync with its gait, in no particular hurry and completely in charge.

  “Randy?” Bebe asked. “On a camel?”

  “Hey, everyone,” he said, yelling and waving. They waited until he caught up.

  A smiling young Egyptian walked along side and took the reins. “You learn well, O Professor,” he said, looking up at Randy and then bowed slightly. “Tss, tss!” he said to the camel as he tugged on the reins. The camel dropped to its knees to allow Randy to dismount. The young man led the animal away. Marlowe had moved aside, having previously learned the hard way what it meant when a tall camel bent down and wrapped its slobbering lips and tongue around her hair bun.

  Clearly, Randy's metamorphosis was ongoing. He was thinner and wore fitted clothes. “I'm getting the hang of it,” he said, smiling and shaking hands offered more eagerly. If Clifford stared any harder, he would have trouble pushing his eyeballs back into their sockets.

  Randy looked at the entourage. “What's going on here, Chione? Some spell commanding everyone to Exodus?” he asked, making light and winking. The others saw the wink and now looked upon a changed man.

  “We haven't had a chance to tell you this part,” Dr. Withers said. He shook Randy's hand. “Kenneth, along with the Bolis, discovered another tomb.”

  Randy's mouth dropped open.

  “Under the necropolis,” Clifford said.

  “Did you see any of this, Chione?” Randy asked.

  Randy's question seemed like one the others might ask. In the past Randy might have made derogatory insinuations. Now his acceptance seemed the norm and surprised everyone.

  “I'm not sure,” she said.

  “What do you mean `not sure'?” Dr. Withers asked.

  She had to smile, knowing she was about to shock them again. “Back when we opened the Pillared Hall,” she said, motioning up the hill toward Tauret's tomb. “I expected a larger room and four larger pillars.”

  “What?” Kendra asked.

  “I remember,” Aaron said quickly. “Someone asked if that was the chamber you saw in your dreams.”

  “That was me,” Clifford said. “And you, Chione, said, `No, but it'll do.' I never thought to ask want you meant.”

  “So, in this new tomb,” Kendra said, “Chione tells us we'll see a large empty room and four larger pillars?”

  “Four massive pillars,” Kenneth said. “I never got the chance to tell what I observed.”

  “That's okay, Kenneth,” Clifford said, grinning. “Chione beat you to it months ago.”

  The Bolis reported that the remaining packed boxes had been left the way they were found. The first inspection group consisted of Dr. Withers, Paki Rashad, Burton, Parker, the photographers and some of the Bolis. When they returned, Dr. Withers seemed overwhelmed. He kept shaking his head. Finally he sat down on the ground and leaned back against a mastaba. Marlowe went to his side, produced a paper fan from her pocket and lovingly cooled her husband.

  “…a lot to be thankful for,” he said finally.

  “It's that good?” Clifford asked.

  He motioned for them to go and see for themselves. Remaining members of the team scampered, accompanied by more of the Bolis who were just as eager.

  Chione led the way just behind an officer. They crouched to enter the mastaba, then passed through the opened sidewall and dropped onto a ledge.

  They found themselves above a deep chamber. Chunks of the solid rock ceiling and wall, which had encased the chamber, had fallen inside to the floor and shattered. Footprints showed further crushing and scattering of the pieces. Chione flashed her light. Someone had braced up the mastaba. The one beside it helped prevent both from falling into the tomb. A lot of sand had also been cleared. The area was well supported with beams and covered by sand and rubble above ground. It was a great hiding place. The gaping hole into which she peered was big enough to glimpse the grandeur as the Bolis inside flashed lights about.

  They eased down the shaky ladder. At the bottom, Kendra squeezed Chione's hand. “I don't think I'd be afraid to see the things you see.”

  “Have you heard?” Bebe asked. “Marlowe's had some strange dreams.”

  “I heard,” Chione said, hoping to drop the subject.

  Bebe lowered her voice. “Marlowe dreamed you had a baby.”

  A scene burst into her mind.

  A beautiful woman sleeping with movement of life inside her swollen belly.

  Chione nearly dropped her light.

  “Marlowe didn't want Chione to know,” Kendra said, nearly hissing at Bebe.

  “Why not?” Chione asked feeling numbed.

  “Bebe, how could you?”

  “It's all right, Kendra,” Chione said. “Now that it's out, why didn't Marlowe want me to know?”

  “Because you put so much stock in your dreams, she didn't want to give you false hope.”

  Chione smiled sadly. “Marlowe's having wish fulfilling dreams,” she said, managing a weak smile. “While I'm busy dreaming other things.”

  Bebe took her hand and clasped it in both of hers. “Guess I'd better learn to curb my tongue. I'm so sorry.”

  Bebe's disclosure of Marlowe's special dreams was no surprise. Marlowe had already related some of her dream scenes and they were of paranormal quality. Marlowe was getting her wish. She wanted to be more like her, if it opened up slowly, so she could adjust. Like Aaron, what she needed to do was wish with all her heart for what she wanted.

  Four massive pillars at least eight feet in diameter supported the center of the expansive chamber. Again, painted reliefs as only the Egyptians could create, covered walls depicting grandeur. Beyond the pillars, over in the corner, Randy stood studying some glyphs with his mouth agape.

  Chione was in awe making her way around the immense dimly lit chamber. Magnificent history spoke from the etchings. Her heart quickened. She wanted to read and learn who had been laid to rest in the burial chamber of this opulent tomb, yet the unfinished tasks at the first tomb took priority. Tauret's tomb would not allow her to focus her attention elsewhere until the mission of that discovery could be satisfied.

  Aaron backed into her. “Oh! Sorry, sorry. We need more light in here. Let's peek down the passageway.”

  They passed where Randy stood. She glanced over and immediately recognized what had captured his interest. A couple of cartouches! Two she had already seen. Her heart beat wildly. She stepped into the passageway with Aaron. He flashed his light and began to walk down the passageway.

  “Oh, please, let's not,” Chione said. “Let's leave this tomb exactly as it is until we finish with the other one. Please?”

  They re-entered the main chamber and prepared to exit. While Aaron held the ladder, Clifford went up first so he might help the others when they reached the top.

  Randy was suddenly at her side. “You saw them, Chione,” he said. “Do you concur that the cartouches belong to the people I think they belong to?”

  “Meskhenet and Umi,” she said, whispering. “You agree?”

  “I'm fairly certain, but you've studied their cartouches more than anyone else.”

  “This is Tauret's parents tomb,” she said. “ They were buried in this valley because they were courtiers. No wonder Tauret was buried nearby.”

  “So when will you tell the others?”

  Chione thought a moment and then smiled warmly as Randy waited. “I'm not going to tell them.”

  “Until the team's ready to begin work in here?”
>
  “No, Randy, it's your find. You make the announcement. Maybe tonight over dinner?”

  “Me?” he asked. “Me?”

  “Why not, Randy? You found them first.”

  “I guess I did. Yeah, I'll break the news.” He was evidently pleased he could contribute that much. “I can do that. Thanks, Chione.”

  She waited till everyone was preoccupied at the ladder then scurried into the passageway. She climbed another ladder and exited out through the second opened mastaba. Outside in daylight and unnoticed by the others, she crept back into the first mastaba, coming up behind Clifford who stood on the ledge looking down into the tomb, waiting to help the others ascend and climb out. Chione leaned close behind him and whimpered with a most unearthly sound. Clifford bolted and let out a ghastly cry, turned and saw her and almost fell backwards through the hole! The hollow chamber filled with laughter.

  Burton and Parker stayed inside waiting for their wives. Dr. Withers went back in with Marlowe, Helen, and Jibade. Chione walked away. She did not care to hear the muffled echo of Carmelita hesitating on the ladder, creating attention to her pseudo-importance.

  39

  The hydraulic jacks and capstans arrived mid-morning with the Norwegians to operate the equipment. By noon, the inventory tent was neatly arranged with shipping and other supplies at the ready. News of Meskhenet and Umi's cartouches in the second tomb enhanced the vigor of the team.

  “That about does it for the inventory records,” Kendra said to her and Bebe. “Thanks for the help, you two.” Her mood was flat. She was withdrawn, remained pensive, always seeming preoccupied.

  “Let's see what's up down under,” Bebe said.

  Inside the passageway, sweaty laborers grouped close to the circulation fans. She, Bebe, and Kendra greeted Quaashie and Naeem, indeed, two valuable aides and greatly trusted. Dozens of workers milled around studying the beautiful walls. Suddenly Chione saw…

  …a woman wearing a long white cloak.

  Smelled…

  …the sweet perfume from the melting beeswax cone atop her head.