Heart of the Gods (9 page)

Deaths brought attention and the last thing they needed was more attention. If it came out what it was the American searched for? With their love for mysteries and conspiracy theories and such…? They would have even more looking. It was bad enough as it was.

Chapter Eight

Patiently Ryan instructed Raissa in the fine art, the very fine art, of the actual ‘dig’, removing the material around a structure or artifact without damaging it in situ, recording it and the level at which it was found, along with any additional materials. He was a surprisingly patient teacher, for which she was grateful.

They were working in one of those rooms along the side walls, using brushes of all size. In some cases they even used dental picks. To Raissa it was all fascinating, this unveiling of these dead, and the care, even reverence, that they took.

If he’d been surprised she’d asked, he hadn’t said so. Between them, they’d worked out a deal, he would teach her this and she would teach him hieroglyphics.

“Do you mind?” she’d asked.

“Hell, no,” he’d said, with a shrug. “I taught lots of dumbass volunteers back in the States. Most of ‘em are dumber than a box of rocks. You’re smarter than most of them. Where do you want to work?”

“I don’t want to disturb your work…,” Raissa offered. “How about there?”

A few of the ‘rooms’ hadn’t excavated and Professor Farrar was still carefully excavating the skeleton he’d found in his section. Now that everyone knew what they might find the excavation was proceeding even more slowly and carefully and a number of other remains had now been found.

Finally, at long last, these lost souls would be returned to the land of Egypt they’d known.

So that empty ‘room’ wouldn’t likely be worked for some time.

“Sure,” Ryan had said. “Why not?”

Under Ryan’s careful supervision, Raissa carefully brushed away some of the dirt and soil along the exterior side wall of one of the rooms.

As Ryan explained it was painstaking work and sometimes the most reward you got for it was to simply expose more of the wall, although they were getting closer to the original floor and they knew what had been found elsewhere.

When he was certain she was all right by herself, he returned to his own work.

Raissa found she didn’t mind clearing the sand and dirt away with a small hand shovel, shaking and sifting it in case something small was hidden within it like a bead from a necklace. Each bit was a little fragment from that person’s life, to be buried with them. There was a certain satisfaction in that.

The sun beat down, browning her skin, warming her as she worked.

From where she worked she could see the others―Ryan back in his section and Ky down at the end in what had been the rooms of the commander of the watch.

Slowly but surely Ky cleared the skeletal remains, brushed away the sand. To his astonishment there were the remains of a sword next to the figure. Whoever it was had died backed into a corner, fighting here. Alone.

And been left, unburied and unmourned.

Ky felt an almost unbearable sense of sadness for the man.

Not entirely unmourned, now.

Looking at the remains of that lone soldier, Ky touched the skull in a benediction of sorts. If his soul was still trapped here, he wished it on to whatever afterlife the man had yearned for. Somehow, it made him feel better to have done it.

He looked up across the dig, stretching his back a little.

Like many things in ancient Egypt, the fort had been oriented east to west along the line of the sun and north to south.

Ryan was in his section, working diligently.

Earlier Ky had seen him working with Raissa, teaching her the basics of excavation, crouched down, their heads bent together, the long tail of her hair over her shoulder, her eyes on Ryan’s as he talked.

He scanned the site and found her in one of the empty ‘rooms’ along the south wall. Her legs curled to one side, she was propped on one arm, brushing carefully at the side of one wall, her head bent so her hair formed a wavy golden backdrop to her profile.

Ky had thought that time and familiarity would have diminished the attraction, instead it only intensified it. The more time he spent with her the more he enjoyed it. He found himself looking for opportunities to get close, to catch that sweet scent, to hear her laugh. There were times when he kept her far too close to sunset, when she’d to leave, as they debated one thing or another, Ryan and Komi joining in enthusiastically.

There were the times when he caught her glancing at him with a curious expression and her eyes darkened, her lips parted… If the boys hadn’t been there… if he wouldn’t have been taking advantage, if it wouldn’t have been so bad for morale on the team…

He sighed.

Then something or someone in the background moved. The movement caught his eye and a chill went through him as he saw who it was.

Zimmer, his too-dark eyes watching Raissa.

Looking around, Ky couldn’t find anything else that Zimmer might be looking at with such concentration.

There was something in the man’s look Ky didn’t like, a cold impersonal avarice, a covetousness that was disturbing in its intensity.

Focused on what she was doing, Raissa was ignorant of the attention.

As if aware of Ky’s eyes on him, Zimmer turned his head and looked at Ky, his expression oddly blank and empty. That was even more disturbing. Suddenly those eyes cleared and narrowed with dislike.

Ky gave him a level look back, a warning clear in his eyes. Stay away.

For a moment, their eyes met and held.

It was Zimmer, finally, who looked away.

One thing was certain, Ky intended to make certain that Raissa was never alone anywhere when Zimmer was around. Watching to be sure that Zimmer continued on his way, Ky settled down to the careful task of preserving the remains as they were.

The tap of Raissa’s little hand shovel rang slightly hollow when it struck one of the stones.

She went still and tapped it again. The piece of limestone should have been fitted so tightly that it wouldn’t move. It was characteristic of the building of the time, that each piece fit against each other solidly and perfectly.

This one wasn’t.

There was a hollow behind the stone.

For a moment she hesitated, then she took a breath and turned to look for Professor Farrar or Ryan.

Professor Farrar was too far away and concentrated, bent over the excavation of the skeleton, Ryan was closer, not so intent on what he was doing.

Picking up a stone, she flipped it in his direction, so it skittered across his field of view.

He looked up and saw the expression on her face, came over to see what it was she needed.

“What’s up?” he asked, softly.

Raissa tapped the loose stone and watched his eyes widen.

He touched her arm.

“Don’t get too excited,” he cautioned and eyed the people around them significantly.

Raissa nodded. She wouldn’t.

Many walls of the time and period would be built of courser limestone faced with finer stone, or, in the case of an exterior wall on a structure like this, might consist of an outer layer of limestone, filled between with tightly packed earth and stone, to give it depth and keep the interior cool. Even after millennia, where wind and sand hadn’t been permitted to weather them, the stones still fit together tightly. Except here.

It was…curious.

“I’ll go get the Professor,” Ryan said, quietly.

Just in case.

Raissa nodded.

Without apparent hurry or excitement, Ryan wandered over to where Professor Farrar was working, as if seeking the answer to a question.

Ky looked up and saw a little spark of something, a touch of excitement, in Ryan’s eyes as he approached.

“Hey, boss,” Ryan said, his voice low and urgent, his eyes intent. “You might want to come and see this. It’s probably nothing…”

With Ryan in tow, Ky went over to where Raissa waited, still on her knees.

She looked over her shoulder as he crouched beside her.

“What have you found?”

He was so close his shoulder touched hers.

Intensely aware of him, she took a breath and tapped the loose stone with the handle of her hand spade. She looked at him, met his dark eyes in question, biting her lip, knowing what this would mean to him.

For a moment, Ky’s breath caught. He looked at her, saw the look in her eyes. The question. He nodded. She’d earned the right to do this.

Carefully she fit her fingers around the stone, tugged on it as he watched.

It shifted.

A little thrill went through him.

Those blocks shouldn’t shift, unless someone had worked one loose and replaced it.

Ky’s heart seemed to pause and then start again.

Smiling, he said, “Don’t stop now.”

Raissa glanced at him quickly in surprise, meeting his eyes, the sun hitting them just right to bring out the gold in them.

In that moment, with the sun etching his features in sharp relief, he looked very much like the statue in his office.

Her breath caught.

Deliberately, she tugged again and pulled the stone free.

Wedged within the wall was a linen-wrapped package, the linen rotted and crumbling but the papyrus within intact. Several complete pages as she could see as she peered inside the small hole. It was amazing they’d survived so long.

Ky touched her hand, spread his fingers to tell her to stop.

“Ryan?”

But Ryan was already wandering nonchalantly over to his kit to get the necessary tools and plastic bags to seal the find.

Ky took over.

Very carefully, he pried the package out of its hiding place, set it down on a piece of cotton cloth. He glanced up, looked around. No one seemed to have noticed their preoccupation, everyone else was engrossed in their own work.

Reverently, Ky turned a page.

“Ky,” Raissa whispered and then caught the slip. “Professor…?”

With one cotton clad finger she pointed out a drawing, a sketch of a tomb…within what appeared to be a cave, with six tall columns…

He was breathless. He’d seen it.

For a moment he couldn’t breathe, looking at it, but he hadn’t missed the slip either, the soft sound of his name on her lips. Until that moment she’d always been careful to use his title. It was a revealing mistake. His heart lightened for more than one reason.

Chapter Nine

In a village this size the souk, or bazaar, was not large but the noise and aromas more than made up for the lack, as some of the merchants blared music from boom boxes, the voices of the singers wailing to the accompaniment of the instruments. The aroma of spices, cooking lamb and beans filled the air. Skinned goats, birds and such hung from hooks at some stalls, others displayed bins of rice, beans and other foodstuffs. Lacking the grocery stores of America this was the local equivalent and the air was redolent with the scent of cooking. Cheeses and grains, coffee in bowls and barrels, were on display. Odd bits of clothing hung from other poles and supports. More clothing was piled on tables.

The souk wasn’t crowded, though, the stands and stalls virtually empty at this hour of the day except for a few of the locals in varying forms of hijab depending on their background, some women dressed in the full abaya with the niqab attached like the one Raissa wore. She did it as much to conceal her fair hair and skin as out of respect for the local customs. Some of the women left the face covering off, while others concealed themselves even more, adding dark gloves to cover as much of their bodies as possible.

Ky had hoped for a better turnout, that there might be more tourists so their small party wouldn’t stand out as much.

After a group had been kidnapped though, most of them Germans, the tourists mostly stayed away. The Americans, too, had faded away with time although there were still a few intrepid souls who passed through on their way to see the Cave of the Swimmers in a different section of the Gilf Kebir. Many of them, expecting the pretty pictures they’d seen in a movie and created by an artist went away disappointed. The true and original ones somehow didn’t seem as impressive in comparison.

They were here for necessary supplies but Ky was also curious to see if any antiquities or artifacts from the dig site had made their way to the bazaar as well.

Almost anywhere in the Middle East one could find supposed ‘antiquities’ on sale, particularly for the benefit of the tourists. Some were quite sophisticated replicas while others were completely fake, tailored to the market of those who had seen far too many movies. A half-trained eye could spot the differences easily.

With his darker skin, hair and his accent marking him as foreign but not American, to his amusement Ky found he wasn’t getting as many dark looks from the locals as the close-cropped, fairer and much more American-looking Ryan and John. That was the reason he rarely wore jeans here―the American uniform, it instantly labeled him.

Unfortunately, John wore little else.

Given the attention he garnered and the tensions in the town Ky was half tempted to send the others back to the hotel… Except John would take exception, loudly insisting he could handle himself and then he might have to escort them all back personally to keep John’s pride and belligerent defense of it to a minimum. That John was proud to be an American was fine but he tended to strut when he thought he was challenged.

In this culture, that could be dangerous.

On the other hand, there was Raissa, who was buried head to toe in the full abaya with the niqab drawn across her lower face, walking a few steps behind them and with her blue eyes lowered respectfully. She had to be sweltering beneath the dark layers of cloth.

They’d finally heard from Tareq about Raissa’s first find, the items she’d recovered from her previous employer, and so they’d left Komi behind to negotiate through the web of authority to arrange for funding and more equipment―desert-adapted jeeps, tents and whatnot―for an expedition into the deep desert.