Shadow Fall (6 page)

“Most of the DMZ’s regular patrons don’t have the two hundred and fifty dollars a ticket in loose change to come to an event like this,” Kira pointed out. “Or the altruism.”

“You’d be surprised, Kira Solomon, what people would give when there’s a benefit to be had.”

Kira was about to question him further when Khefar touched her arm. “Looks like we’re about to get to the main event,” he said, and then pointed.

Hammond tapped on a microphone near the main bar. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for opening your hearts—and your wallets—to our exhibition.” The audience tittered with polite laughter. “Your generous donations will go directly to your city’s local museums and cultural outreach programs, so thank you.”

The crowd applauded. “Now, I know most of you came to be seen and to drink the free booze. But if you would care for a little culture with your liquor, I would like to invite you to stick around.”

Hammond’s voice dropped to a dramatic whisper as he raised his glass high. “So eat, drink, and be merry. For tonight, we journey through the Egyptian underworld!”

N
aturally the first exhibit hall houses the gift shop,” Hammond told the throng gathered around him as he led them through the first room. “No journey through the underworld would be complete without a souvenir to remember it by.”

“Of course not,” Khefar mumbled. “Gods forbid we forgo a trinket made in China to mark our trip through ancient Egypt.”

Kira coughed to smother her laughter. Hammond gamely ignored them, making his way through to the second hall. “The second exhibit hall contains original pieces and reproductions of famous artifacts from this mysterious and magical culture. Some of the artifacts have been loaned from various museums and collections around the world, thanks in large part to the hard work and connections of Kira Solomon.”

Kira acknowledged the polite applause with a dip of her head, and then gestured for Hammond to continue. She’d worked her butt off to acquire a cross section of examples of the funerary texts of ancient Egypt, drawing on all of her professional contacts and even calling in a favor here and there. The effort had paid off, and she’d managed to obtain enough for a good representation of the history of funerary texts. Everything from engraved chunks of tomb walls, known as the Pyramid Texts, dating back to the Old Kingdom; to wooden fragments from the Middle Kingdom, Coffin Texts; to photos and remnants of papyri from the New Kingdom and the Saite period, all carefully mounted and secured beneath glass displays. They’d also brought in examples of mummification equipment, burial artifacts such as shabti, shawabti, and ushabti funerary figurines, and canopic jars of exquisite beauty and detail.

Hammond guided his group farther into the cavernous hall. “Aside from these ancient literary relics, you’ll also see a replica of the most famous version of the Book of the Dead. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Papyrus of Ani as it would have looked shortly after it was created.”

He gestured, and lights slowly grew in brightness along a set of wall panels covered in maroon cloth. The attendees gasped in appreciation as a true-to-size reproduction of Ani’s funerary papyrus came into view—all seventy-eight feet of it.

Intrigued, Kira stepped closer to examine the reproductions of Ani and his wife making offerings to the sun god, the Weighing of the Heart ceremony, and ending with the vignette with the goddesses Tawaret and Hathor in their animal forms, watching over Ani’s tomb in the western cliffs. She’d seen pictures in books and online, even seen sections of the original papyrus in the British Museum, but never had a chance to see it like this.

The Book of Going Forth by Day as it was meant to be viewed was breathtaking. The replica stretched the length of the wall and looked to be made of actual papyrus, like many of the gilded souvenir papers sold in gift shops around the world. This one, however, hummed with power. It felt benign, though, crafted by an artist gifted to the point of unconsciously imbuing his work with magic.

“As some of you may be aware, we’ve reproduced every exact detail of the original, which is currently housed at the British Museum,” Hammond explained. “Small insets below the book describe some of the texts and illustrations and offer translations of the hieroglyphs. For those who don’t know, the Book of the Dead is a collection of spells, organized into ‘chapters,’ that enable the dead to make their way past traps, riddles, and deadly encounters. The book contains passwords and spells that are supposed to be spoken aloud before you are allowed to pass to the next stage, and other spells that help the deceased move about in the land of the living.”

He gestured them forward, stopping before massive golden velvet curtains hanging from the rafters. “There were nearly two hundred spells that could be used in a Book of the Dead, but not every spell went into every book. However, by the time of the Third Intermediate Period some standardization began to occur, including selling ready-made books that simply needed the deceased’s name added.”

Hammond seemed to realize that he’d entered lecturing mode. He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “You’ll have to forgive me—teachers never stop teaching!”

He grabbed the curtain panels. “Besides, I wanted to prepare you for this, our pièce de resistance: the Journey Through the Underworld.”

He jerked the curtains open. A sand-colored carpet led to a carved façade that was more theatrical than historically accurate. Four twenty-foot-tall obelisks drenched with hieroglyphs, designed to simulate a limestone façade, flanked a wide entrance with a winged sun disk over the lintel.

“Did you use any particular tomb as a blueprint?” Kira asked.

“We took inspiration from several tombs and papyri so visitors could have a well-rounded idea of what a journey through the underworld is like,” Hammond replied, “with a bit of embellishment for dramatic effect.”

“Meaning not based in reality all that much,” Khefar muttered.

Kira coughed. “Remember, we’re supposed to be nice,” she whispered. “It’s not for us, it’s for the audience.”

That audience seemed appropriately awed as they shuffled between the pillars into the first room. “The oldest of the funerary texts is called the Amduat, literally That Which Is in the Underworld. It recounts the twelve-hour journey that the pharaoh makes through the underworld in his solar boat. A later incarnation is known as the Book of Gates, and the twelve hours have thus become gates guarded by violent serpents. Of course, we won’t make you fine people take half a day to traverse the tomb, though we surely hope we have enough crowds to make it seem as if you’ve waited twelve hours.”

Hammond laughed, though few joined in. Atlanta wasn’t a town known for its patience with lines. “Given that, you can consider what we have here, inscribed on the walls and ceilings around us, to be the highlight reel.”

He guided them along the decorated corridor. “As you progress through, you can hear and see a translation of the text and images, and can simply pass through or have the full immersive experience of going through the gates correctly and battling Apep, the Serpent of Chaos. The pathway is completely wired with audio and video to further enhance the feeling of making a journey far beneath the earth.

“We have a representation of a sarcophagus in the burial chamber just to the west of the corridor, as well as depictions of the burials of some of the more well-known kings of Egypt. At the end of a most perilous journey—which you can experience in full when the exhibit opens tomorrow—we come to a final test, at least for the purposes of this exhibit: The Hall of Two Truths.”

The corridor opened onto a high-ceilinged chamber. This time, when the gathering gasped, Kira gasped with them.

Directly in front of them, a life-sized statue of Osiris sat on a gilded throne, wrapped feet to neck as a mummy. A soft spotlight shone down on the
atef
crown, the gleaming green skin, and the gilded symbols of kingship held crossed in front of him: the crook and the flail. Standing beside the throne, one hand on her husband’s shoulder, stood Isis, a gilded throne-crown atop her sleek braided hair. Behind them and to the right stood two ornately carved doors, a discreet exit sign lit above them.

A large pair of golden scales stood in front of Osiris. The jackal-headed god Anubis knelt beside it, one hand placing a large scarab, representing the heart, into the left pan. A white ostrich feather balanced in the right pan, the feather of Truth. The heart scarab had to balance perfectly with Ma’at’s feather, which seemed an impossibility.

Thoth, with his impressive ibis beak, stood to the right of the scales, ready to transcribe the outcome of the weighing. If the heart was out of balance with Ma’at’s truth, the person’s soul was doomed to be fed to Ammit the Devourer, removing that person from existence. Gleaming red eyes shone in the darkness behind Thoth, Ammit waiting her chance to feed.

Kira locked her knees, fighting to stay upright and outwardly calm. The scene was too real, too lifelike. She’d been in this place before when the Fallen had killed her in Demoz’s club. When she’d died, she’d gone to the Hall of Justice, stood before Isis and Ma’at, the Divine Tribunal and the forty-two assessor gods, and waited to have her heart weighed.

It was exactly like this.

Fingers wrapped around hers, squeezed hard. She blinked, feeling as if she’d broken through the surface of thickened water, and then glanced at Khefar. He held his jaw clenched so tight she could see the muscles working beneath his skin.
So it’s not just me.

Hammond stepped forward, clapping a hand on the Anubis statue’s shoulder. Kira winced. “As you can see, we spared no expense in creating a faithful rendition of the Weighing of the Heart Ceremony from Ani the scribe’s Book of the Dead. What do you think?”

Kira managed to find her voice. “I think visitors are going to be awed.”

Hammond beamed. “We certainly hope so. To complete the public’s experience, visitors will have the opportunity to actively participate in the judging ritual.”

Excited murmurs from the audience. The hairs on Kira’s neck stood on end. “How will they do that?”

“It’s all mechanical,” Hammond explained. “Tomorrow we’re installing a machine that will dispense scarabs for a dollar each. The scarab will fall into the Anubis statue’s hand, and Anubis will drop the scarab into the measuring plate. It will then be weighed against Ma’at’s feather before their very eyes.”

Hammond held up a low-grade amethyst carved into a scarab shape. He offered it to Kira. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“No.” Her gloved hand reached up to touch the tattoo at her throat, the feather of Ma’at etched there. She felt no warming rush, either of warning or reassurance. Perhaps there wasn’t any magic in the tableau before her, but in Kira’s mind it certainly felt like there should have been.

Hammond smiled. “There’s no need to worry, Ms. Solomon. I’m sure your soul isn’t in jeopardy.”

A ripple of amusement swept through the crowd. Kira refused to be pressured. There was no way she’d commit sacrilege in order to amuse Hammond and this monkey-suited crowd. “Why don’t you show us how it’s done, Doctor?”

Very carefully, he placed the heart-stone in the center of the measuring pan opposite the feather. The gilded pans began to rise and lower, slowly swinging as it measured the weights. It seemed that everyone held their collective breath, but the scales finally stopped in perfect balance.

The sudden tension eased. “What happens if the heart doesn’t balance with the feather?” someone asked.

The director paused dramatically. “On those rare occasions, the Ammit creature will slide forward, jaws gnashing and stage-effect ‘steam’ issuing from its mouth, and snatch the soul away.”

Hammond chuckled. “Of course, that won’t really happen. However, we do advise that the young ones bypass this part of the exhibit as it may be too intense for some.” He gestured toward the open doors at the end of the panoramic display. “Shall we?”

They followed him out through the doors, spilling back into the open area near the gift shop entrance. “The gift shop will sell trinkets as souvenirs of the experience, including hard-carved gemstone scarabs. We hope that you’ll come back and journey through the interactive exhibit as it is meant to be experienced, and therefore gain a better understanding of the beliefs of the ancient Egyptians. Thank you all for your generous time—and donations.”

He turned to Kira. “My apologies, Kira. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot back there.”

Kira waved him off. “No worries, Mr. Hammond,” she said. “I suppose I was as surprised as everyone else by the breadth and depth of the display you have there.”

He beamed. “It is genius, isn’t it?”

Kira couldn’t bring herself to agree and settled for “It’s certainly impressive. Who designed it?”

“The production company brought in some set designers who’ve worked on big-budget Hollywood films,” Hammond explained. “We gave them the most exciting portions of the Book of Gates, the Amduat, and the Book of the Dead, and they created sections in each of the tomb rooms.”

With a total disregard for a logical or accurate progression through the pathway. Then again, the collection of prayers and spells was supposed to protect the dead, not make sense to the living. “I’m sure you’ll thrill lots of visitors, Mr. Hammond.”

“I certainly hope so.” He pulled out a handkerchief, dabbed at his forehead. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m being called over for an interview. Every bit of publicity helps. Please, enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Khefar sidled up next to her. “You know how I’ll enjoy the rest of my evening?”

“Getting the hell out of here?”

“It’s as if you read my mind.”

W
hat was that?” Khefar asked as soon as they reached the car.

“I have no idea,” Kira said, pulling off her stilettos and tossing them in the backseat. She wriggled her toes back to life with a sigh. “I worked on acquiring and the display of the artifacts, and I wasn’t here when they installed the papyrus of Ani. I didn’t have the time or inclination to visit the third hall to see what they were developing. Now I wish I had.”