The kindly doctor smiled knowingly. “I’m sorry, but you are mistaken, dear lady. There is no such tomb.”
“I must beg to differ, Doctor. The tomb exists, but has not yet been discovered. However, I can assure you that it will be.” Mina leaned forward and imparted her secret. “And you are the man who will discover it.”
He gazed at her benignly from behind his glasses, his professional manner firmly in place. Clearly, he was accustomed to dealing with people in all manner of debilitating mental and physical states. “May I presume to ask how you can possibly know this?”
“Because,” replied Wilhelmina, offering her most sincere and confident smile, “I am from your future.”
CHAPTER 5
In Which a Guest Is Honoured
Kit strolled into the village: a small farming hamlet consisting of low mud-brick houses strung along the banks of the slow, silent Nile and surrounded by darkly fertile fields of beans and squash, onions, leeks, melons, sesame, and the like—all of it guarded by a noisy greeting party of mongrel dogs. The houses, he noted, were mostly unadorned mud brick, though some featured the occasional wall daubed blue or green. The buildings were uniformly doorless, windowless, and most had small beehive-shaped ovens in their bare backyards. The more prosperous-looking dwellings had small cloth-covered, palm-lined pavilions on the roof—to make use, no doubt, of any errant cooling breeze—but the roofs of the more humble dwellings were topped with heaps of sun-blasted rubbish; any discarded, used-up household items ended their useful lives roofside, along with the accumulated garbage and detritus of daily life.
He glimpsed the first dog as he passed the third house on the edge of the hamlet; the animal was quickly joined by two more, which were in turn trailed by a pack of curious children. They all stared at him, dogs and kids, with wide dark eyes. Kit smiled and waved, which sent the youngsters racing off to find their elders, setting off a general commotion of greeting for a stranger who had wandered out of the desert.
Kit was mightily relieved to discover that his first attempts at communication were met with success. Whatever time he had landed in, Westerners were apparently a common enough sight among the locals that it did not provoke instant alarm; at least, his appearance did not send them reaching for weapons or running for cover. Instead, as the small crowd of villagers gathered around, a dark-skinned older fellow with stubbly grey hair stepped forward and handed Kit a clay cup full of water, which Kit accepted with a smile and nod. Kit tipped the cup to his lips and guzzled it down. The man watched him, then said, “Deutsch? Français?”
“English,” replied Kit, wiping his mouth. “Parlez vous English?”
“Non,” said the man. He laid hold of a nearby boy and spoke a quick command that sent the lad racing away. Turning back to Kit, he said, “Français?”
“No,” replied Kit, passing back the empty cup.
The man sighed with weary resignation, and then everyone stood looking at each other and at Kit until a slender young man in a white kaftan appeared.
“Hello, sir,” he said, pushing his way through the throng. “I am Khefri.”
“You speak English.”
The young man nodded gravely. “What is your name, sir?”
“Call me Kit,” he said. “Kit Livingstone.”
“How can we help you, Kit Livingstone?”
“I am travelling hereabouts,” replied Kit. “I am on my way to Luxor. Do you know of anyplace where—”
“You are on foot?”
“Yes.”
“You have been in the desert?”
“Yes, that’s right. I—”
“You have been in the desert on foot?”
“Yes, you see, I am looking for someone.”
“You are looking for someone,” repeated Khefri, his large dark eyes narrowing in disbelief, “in the desert on foot?”
“As it happens, yes,” said Kit, feeling that this line of questioning could go on for quite some time. “But now I am on my way to Luxor—”
“You have money?” wondered Khefri.
“A little,” replied Kit. Wilhelmina had given him a handful of coins. “Not much.”
“This is my father,” said the youth, indicating the older man, who was now smiling and nodding in welcome. “He is head man of this village. You will stay with us tonight, and I will take you to Luxor in the morning.”
“Great,” said Kit. “Terrific. I mean, thank you very much.”
“It is pleasure. The cost will be six dinar.” Khefri exchanged a few words with his father, then said, “You are invited to come now and share a meal with us. My father would speak to you of your England.”