looking for, and traced it lightly with a fingertip. “The Man Who Is Map.”
“Arthur Flinders-Petrie,” said Kit.
“He was here,” said Khefri. “High Priest Anen knew him.”
“Yes, he did.” Kit stepped to the last panel. “And now,” he said, with a gallery owner’s flair, “the pièce de résistance.” He directed their attention to the figure of the shaven-headed priest, a little older and heavier, standing with what looked like a scrap of leather in his hand. “That,” declared Kit, “is the Skin Map as it once existed. And see, Anen is pointing with his other hand to that big star behind him. What is that?”
“Hmmm.” Thomas held his lamp closer. “It appears to be the constellation Canus Major. I take it to be Sirius—a star especially revered by the ancients, no doubt due to its prominence and seasonal qualities.”
“That is more or less what Cosimo and Sir Henry thought,” confirmed Kit. “And the object Anen is holding,” he continued, “that is the Flinders-Petrie map—you can tell from all the little blue symbols on it. And, based on Cosimo’s assessment, it appears to be all in one piece.”
“Extraordinary,” breathed Thomas. “It is very much as you described.” He turned a grinning face to Kit. “As it has not been discovered in any of the boxes or chests yet examined, it must be in one of the few left.”
Kit cast a glance around the room at the several dozen or so remaining containers. “We live in hope.”
The work resumed. Kit returned to removing and, with Thomas, opening the last boxes and chests, his hopes soaring and crashing with each one until Khalid appeared at the table beneath the canopy to say, “This is the last.” He placed a small black lacquered box on the table. Inlaid with ivory and lapis in a geometric design, it did seem the kind of box to hold a treasure.
“Open it,” instructed Thomas. With a trembling hand, Kit lifted the lid upon an elaborate beaded necklace of lapis, carnelian, and amber . . . a priceless object in anyone’s estimation. There were also a matching ring and brooch.
But no map.
“Well, that’s it,” muttered Kit. “All this for nothing.”
“Not for nothing!” tutted Thomas. “We have excavated a very important tomb and have made considerable archaeological finds. The hieroglyphics alone will prove invaluable to our understanding. This is a major discovery. It will advance the science of archaeology by leaps and bounds. You should be proud.”
“Sure,” allowed Kit, “but you know what I mean. We came here to find the map.” He gestured forlornly in the direction of the storage chamber cut in the sandstone of the wadi wall behind them. “We’ve got a whole truckload of treasures—everything except the one we came to get.”
“And yet,” suggested Thomas, his steel-rimmed glasses glinting in the sun, “there is one container we have not searched.”
“I looked in every blessed box and jar myself,” blurted Kit, disappointment making him raw. “It wasn’t there.”
“Oh, ye of little wit,” admonished the doctor. “Use that brain of yours, sir. Think!”
“I am thinking,” Kit muttered. “I am thinking we’ve been on a wild goose chase.”
“My impetuous friend,” chided Thomas, shaking his head, “we have not looked in the sarcophagus.”
“The sarcophagus . . .” Hope, instantly renewed, flared in Kit’s despairing soul. He started back to the tomb on the run. “All hands on deck! We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“Khalid, bring the heavy-lifting equipment,” called the doctor. He paused and shouted towards the temple. “Khefri, fetch the cook and bring a team of mules—we may need them.”
Carved from a single block of red granite, the hulking mass of stone sat in the centre of the chamber, as yet untouched. Kit swept away the dust with a handful of rags to expose the smooth, stylised visage of a man, features impassive, staring with blank eyes into the darkness of eternity. Below the face, the rest of the stone lid was engraved with row upon row of hieroglyphs.
“This won’t be easy,” observed Kit. “The thing must weigh twenty tons. How are we going to lift it?”
“Give me a lever and a place to stand, and I shall move the earth!” Thomas told him. “Archimedes.” He squatted down beside the massive granite case and ran his fingers along the seam joining the lid to the bottom. “We will also use wedges and ropes.”
Setting the lamps in a perimeter around the great stone case, the labourers set to with levers and wooden wedges; working in tandem—two levers