Part 6 (1/2)

The jar rolled itself to a halt against Ma.s.sud's face. The glazed eyes of Anubis stared into those of the graverobber, and the wind died away. The jar rocked slightly in a growing, viscous pool of blood. And darkness returned.

Ra.s.sul woke suddenly. His head felt like it was splitting. And through the crack in his mind he could feel something forcing its way in. Was it guilt?

Anger? He did not need to ask himself what he should feel guilt or anger about. And that acceptance of the truth was itself unusual.

He rose stiffly from his wooden bed and went to the window. He was alone of course. He had not shared his bed since his only wife had died in childbirth. So long ago now, so alone for so long. Outside the pyramids stood stark against the night sky. A jackal called out somewhere in the distance, a long lonely wail.

As he turned to go back to bed, he saw a figure standing in the shadows by the door. He could not see who it was, but the servants all knew better than the disturb him without good cause. But before Ra.s.sul could say anything, the figure spoke. Its voice was cracked like an old flute playing in the wind.

'The tomb was broken into tonight.'

'Robbed?' Ra.s.sul did not need to ask which tomb. Only one mattered - the tomb he lived to protect.

'No,' the figure said. 'The robbers did not complete their task.'

'The G.o.ds be thanked.'

'But they have started something. Something that must be finished.'

'What do you mean?' Ra.s.sul was worried now. For a second he saw the hourgla.s.s, sand dripping from the upper bowl as it sifted through the seconds of eternity. Why had none of the priests alerted him to the events if the robbers had been disturbed? 'Who are you and how do you know this?'

he demanded.

The figure rattled a laugh. 'A jar was cracked. The priests are discovering it even now, binding it with hessian and praying for guidance. They will come to you soon for advice. You are the one chosen to watch over the tomb, the one granted the lonely years of vigil. They fear for their lives, and for the life of Egypt.'

'Cracked,' Ra.s.sul could taste the same fear, he knew how the priests would be feeling.

'But not broken?'

'No,' the voice sounded almost sad. 'But the crack is enough. The process begins. Your own feelings are proof enough of the power of the G.o.ddess.'

'My feelings?' Ra.s.sul stepped back a pace. The guilt and anger had made him shout, had confessed the truth of what the man said.

'Your feelings,' the voice repeated. 'And my presence.'

A sudden thought occurred to Ra.s.sul. 'Wait, how did they get past the test of the Shabti?'

The figure's laugh was a dry, rasping death rattle. 'We were told the answer before we entered the tomb.'

'You? Who by? Only one person knows the secret of the riddle.'

'Exactly. One who serves the G.o.ddess, and yet knows it not. One who will be her servant in the empty years ahead now that the chain of events is started, now that the inevitable is set on its course.'

The crack in Ra.s.sul's head seemed to split wide open. He could see clearly for the first time, knew his destiny. And he remembered meeting the man in the marketplace, recalled slipping him the papyrus on which he had scrawled the answer. Sadan Ra.s.sul, the only living man to know the secret of the riddle, but until now he had not known his own purpose.

The figure's croaking voice broke into his realization. 'You know what you must do. You have always known. And now is the time.'

'A replacement vessel,' Ra.s.sul murmured. But he knew that they must find another form of container, the canopic jar could not be repaired or imitated.

They would have to pray that the G.o.ds again provided the means to their ends.

'Yes,' the figure in the shadows hissed. 'You see, already the spirit of the G.o.ddess is within you. You will be a good servant to her in the long lonely ages ahead.' The figure reached out its hand towards Ra.s.sul. It was holding something, gesturing for him to take it.

'Me?' Ra.s.sul was aghast. 'But why me? Why not you?' Yet even as he questioned how he would come to serve the one he was sworn to keep in thrall, he knew that the shadowy figure spoke the truth. And he took the hourgla.s.s the figure was holding out to him, the sands spiralling down into the lower bowl. He had known already what he had to do, had known since the tomb was sealed and he had started the hourgla.s.s sands on their courses. It was the only way he would ever - The figure broke into his thoughts again: 'I am not fit for the years that lie ahead, for the waiting and the planning.' The final words were almost a gasp as the figure collapsed: 'I am dead already.' It fell forwards into the room, making no attempt to save itself or break the fall. The body landed with a dull thud at Ra.s.sul's feet.

Outside he could hear the commotion as the messenger from the priests hammered on the door and demanded to be let in. He could hear the servants moving around downstairs, and the bolts being drawn.

And at his feet, sudden in a shaft of moonlight, he could see the dark ma.s.s of congealed blood. It caked the back of the head of what had once been a man. The skull was smashed inwards, split open like a rotten egg.

Chapter Three.

The enamel of Tegan's teeth was hard against her knuckles. She and Kenilworth stood at the end of the sarcophagus. In front of them, Nyssa's bandaged body lay silent and still.

The Doctor had finished unwrapped her head, and was leaning into the casket. His right hand was against Nyssa's cheek, her hair spread dry and dusty over his fingers. With his other hand he was pinching the bridge of his nose, head back and eyes tight shut in concentration.

Suddenly the Doctor moved. He took a deep, rasping breath, opened his eyes, and stretched. Then he yawned, blinked, and smiled broadly at Tegan.

'That should do it,' he said with evident satisfaction.

'She's going to be okay?'

The Doctor nodded. 'Yes. A bit tired when she eventually wakes, but otherwise fine.' He laughed and made his way along the casket, clapping Tegan on the shoulder as soon as he was within reach. 'Ironic really, four thousand years asleep and she'll be tired.' He walked over to the fire and held out his hands to warm them.

Kenilworth and Tegan laughed with him.

'Well, that's that then, eh Doctor? Glad it's finally over, I must say.'

'I'll stay with her till she wakes,' Tegan said quietly.

The Doctor turned back from the fire. 'Ah,' he said. 'Actually, there are a couple of things I should mention. I'm afraid it's not over. Not yet. And I don't think you'll want to wait here for Nyssa to wake up.'

'Doctor, I want to be with her when she comes round. She should see a friendly face.'

The Doctor drew a deep breath. 'I doubt it would actually be very friendly, Tegan.'

'What do you mean?'