Curse of the Pharaoh: A Brock Stone Adventure

“May I?” Wainwright took the ushabti and gave it a thorough examination. “It appears to be authentic and quite rare. Interesting.” He frowned, tugged absently at his chin whiskers. “This reminds me of another legend associated with the Night Queen. According to the story, the Night Queen built her temple atop the ruins of Sobekopolis — the city of Sobek, the crocodile god. It sits on the underground lake that birthed Sobek. It is from those waters that she drew her power.”

“Forgive me,” Constance said, “but why would the city of a crocodile god be out in the desert?”

“Long ago, the Sahara was underwater,” Wainwright said.

“This ushabti is a crocodile,” Stone said. “Could it have come from Sobekopolis?”

“Possibly. I have seen one other in my lifetime, and it was found in the Western Desert.”

“Can you narrow it down for us?” Trinity asked.

“The man who found it was quite mad. All I could get out of him was three or four days west of Luxor, in the Cavern of the Three-Headed Serpent.” He handed the ushabti back to Stone.

“Thank you,” Stone said. “One more question if you don’t mind.”

“Ask away. Egyptology is my favorite subject. I can talk about it all day.”

“It is my understanding that during the process of mummification, certain organs are placed in four canopic jars.”

“Correct.”

“Have you ever heard of the heart being placed in a fifth jar?”

Wainwright sat up straight. He appeared alarmed.

“The Egyptians believed the heart, rather than the brain, was the source of human was the source of wisdom, knowledge, emotion. and memory. A person’s very essence was contained within, so it was always left with the body so that the deceased could live in the afterlife.”

“Why would the heart be removed?” Trinity asked.

“To prevent the deceased from moving on to the afterlife.”

“I don’t understand,” Alex said. “Why not let them face judgment? An evil person will be punished, good will be rewarded.”

Wainwright gazed thoughtfully at the shoreline sweeping past them.

“I can only think of one reason the heart would be preserved — so that the person can someday be brought back to life.”

20 The Guide

They arrived in Luxor the following morning and checked into the famed Winter Palace Hotel. Stone and Alex then went out in search of a guide while the ladies remained behind to enjoy the amenities.

After asking around about a guide and meeting with no success, Stone eventually paid a young man named Dakari a pound to show him to a place where he could find a guide. The farther they walked, the shabbier their surroundings grew. Finally, they stopped in front of a small building. A hand-painted sign, bleached out by the sun, read “Ammit Pub.” Beneath the name was the image of a bizarre creature with the head of a crocodile, the front legs and chest of a lion, and the hindquarters of a hippo.

“You will find a guide in there,” Dakari said.

“How about camels and supplies for a journey?” Alex asked.

“Your guide can help you.”

As they turned to leave, Stone saw a flicker of movement at the corner of his eye. His monastery training kicked in. He whipped around and seized Dakari by the wrist before the young man could snatch the cash in his pocket. Dakari was too surprised to be frightened.

“You are fast,” the young man said.

“Glad you noticed,” Stone said dryly. “I’m also vindictive.” He took back one of the pound notes he had given to Dakari. “Get out of here before I take the other back, too.” He watched the young man go, then turned and led the way into the bar.

Nervous-looking men cast side-eyed glances at the pair of newcomers as they entered. Someone muttered something about lost tourists under his breath and the others at his table laughed. Stone and Alex moved to the bar, where Alex ordered two Stellas — the beer that had dominated Egypt for more than a decade. The bartender smirked, his shoulders quaked in silent mirth. Finally, he gave a shake of his head and went to get their drinks.

“What’s his problem?” Alex said.

“Places like this mostly serve hard liquor, or turpentine masquerading as liquor,” Stone said. “Beer tends to be favored by genteel folk.”

“Genteel is a name I’ve never been called.”

“Compared to everyone else in here, you’re a Rockefeller.”

“If only I had the bank account to match.”

The bartender brought their beers and held up four fingers. Stone handed him the bills and the man turned and walked away.

“Friendly chap.” Alex scanned the room. “No one seems to like us very much.”

“Let’s hope they like money.”

Stone seized the bull by the horns, approached the nearest table, and asked if anyone could recommend a guide. None of the men looked up. All shook their heads. He asked the men at the next table. An emaciated man with crooked teeth looked up at him.

“I don’t speak English,” he said.

“Neither do I,” said the man seated across the table from him. Both men laughed.

“This is not going well,” Stone said.