Metjen left Trueth cowering near the entrance while Ranofer examined the shrine more closely.  After gushing over the furniture, Rani-Ra had joined him at the inscriptions. She poked him in the ribs, causing a fresh new bruise which hurt.

'There's a strange depression here where it uses the kheper hieroglyph with the scarab. Does that mean anything?'

'There's only one way to find out.' Metjen tapped a finger into the chink in the wall. Nothing assaulted his digit, but he had felt ridges within which he now probed pensively.

'Ring, please.'

Rani-Ra rummaged in his backpack and produced their heirloom, which Metjen pressed into the hole. With a click, a tablet-sized panel swung open among the text. They all jostled for viewing space. 

Even Trueth had dragged herself up to stare at the less than healthy specimen of a scroll waiting inside with its upper part unrolled and facing them, hieroglyphs showing. The rest of the scroll was still curled tightly, most of it so badly burned it appeared charred.  Carefully testing it for integrity, Metjen mind-lifted the scroll towards eye level to read the visible part of the text.

'From Amasis to those who bear the ring. My faithful servants promise me that they will conceal this notice as ordered.  If you have come because of the instruction, you could be one of my descendants.  If you also have the other half of the wig, this is most likely. Greetings, and may the demons swallow your ka if you are not ...'

Metjen did not dare to push it open any further, it was that fragile. 'We have to keep this safe and bring it back to father.'

'I know you'll hate me for this, but how can you be sure that there wasn't somebody in your ancestry back whenever all this happened who forced her real descendants to hand this stuff over?'

This time Ranofer mumbled a quick prayer, touched his protective amulet and cuffed Trueth over the head. Metjen hissed at him to stop it. To even assume that one of their ancestors could have committed such a crime was ridiculous.

A quick final glance revealed nothing further, so he conducted a cleansing ritual, aided by Rani-Ra, while Ranofer disappeared outside. Trueth slumped down her wall again. Metjen called upon Osiris to continue his protection of the dead woman's slumber, followed by a plea to the Lady Maat to forgive their intrusion. 

'I feel like a man condemned,' he said. 'When I die, and they weigh my heart on the scales against the feather of Maat, they will find it too heavy, and I'm lost.'

'You're tired. And if it's that bad, you should have sent me instead. Nobody will weigh my heart, and I could have checked around for you safely,' Trueth said.

Metjen snorted. 'Thank you, this is meant kindly, but you might be surprised, I can tell you. But unless you provoke me any further, your demise will still take a while.' 

Ranofer crackled back in again with a large bag full of provisions. Metjen started to arrange them close to the remains of similar gifts left behind by the last mourners. He piled bread, fruit, a bowl he filled with water, there were even roses which had started to go limp after being transported around so much and—

'What's this?'

Ranofer had a sheepish expression on his face. 'Eh, muesli bars? I like them and I thought she might want to have a taste too?'

Metjen shook his head as he placed muesli bars, chocolate biscuits and even chewing gum on the floor before picking the latter back up again – enough was enough

After bowing and saying a last prayer where he asked the deceased for her consent to their intrusion, Metjen completely wiped out his remaining powers for a rudimentary mind-sweep of the tomb, and they all left.

On their drive back to their hotel nobody spoke a word. Above them, the light of suns that might have died eons ago glittered from a night sky which reflected the cold of the desert.

***

Trueth did not feel like having conversation so early in the morning, however her intrepid companions gave that idiotic expression 'bright-eyed and bushy tailed' a new meaning.

'You know what pisses me off?' Rani-Ra said as she was contemplating whether to have fruit salad for breakfast or the sesame rings with yogurt. In the end she went for both and had to swallow hard to be able to continue talking. 'Whatever we might have discovered in Amasis' tomb – it just doesn't get us anywhere. Metjen, spare me your raised finger – I fully appreciate we are no better off than all these ancestors of ours, but we had to go to extremes for whatever it is we might have got there.'

Rani-Ra made a sweeping gesture that nearly knocked over the coffee-pot and resolutely bit into a sesame ring. Trueth regarded her with admiration. Rani-Ra was her kind of girl and the boys were not that bad either – assuming Metjen would deign to address his issues with attitude.

'Well, it appears you might indeed have found your ancestress out there in the desert, and that alone is pretty amazing," Trueth said. "She has left you a letter, which the professor will, hopefully, be able to salvage. You also have the other bit of your wig back. 

'And this holy object Metjen refuses to talk about is whispering that we need to save something, maybe it is referring to those pylons of hope the good Lord Imhotep is writing about. All we have to do is work out what they are and if we are maybe missing yet another part of this conundrum.' Speaking made her thirsty, so Trueth took a swig of the pomegranate juice.

Metjen waved for the waiter before turning to her. ''If you did as you were told and stayed with the servants for a little while, you would find out a little bit more about holy objects. Plus, you might actually learn not only who you are but also how to behave with demureness— and that wouldn't be a bad idea at all.'

Trueth licked her lips. 'Don't forget, Your Weirdness, your mother was right, I do see things. You wouldn't have got anywhere without me yesterday and if you don't like the things I say and the way I say them you might as well see how far you get when I'm gone.'

'You're not going anywhere,' Metjen said.

'Oh, it's like that, is it?' Trueth asked.

They fumed at each other over the marmalade. 

'Lady and gentleman,' Rani-Ra made a soothing movement with the palms of her hands. 'This doesn't help. I suggest we take this scroll to father as soon as possible. I'm sure he'll drool at getting his scientific paws on both the document and the other part of the wig, so we might get away with venting but no nuclear explosion.'

'We inform mother first,' Ranofer said. 'She'll have an idea how to break the news. First of all we need to spot Ali Baba and his boat. I tried a couple of times to call him, but I only got voicemail.'

'Akil', Metjen said with that didactic overtone in his voice that made Trueth's neck hairs rise the same moment as Metjen was rising himself. 'Let's go over into town. We can park the Jeep at the mooring and take one of the feluccas across.'

'Don't you have bridges in Egypt? They're an amazing architectural feature. I thought I saw a few when we were in Cairo. In fact, I'm pretty sure I did.' Trueth batted her lashes at Metjen. 

'We do, but since they built this particular bridge, which surely fattened the purses of certain people, the purses of the felucca captains are sorely depleted. So I make a point of using their services whenever I'm here.'

Trueth shrugged—and a thought rose from the depths of her mind with a smelly plop. 'Eh, where did you say these crocodiles were?' She did not get an answer and was forced to scramble as the others were already piling into the Jeep.

Trueth watched the captains and their potential cargo having what sounded like a serious argument concerning world politics complete with loud shouting and the waving of many arms. The bridge would have been far less complicated with the additional bonus of transportation secured on the other side she thought.

She noticed the diplomatic tussle come to an end, wondered whether she should demonstrate her independence but decided against that option as it would have involved a rather lengthy hike all on her own. Instead, she followed the others as they clambered aboard the felucca.

This was a long name for what was effectively a tiny craft sporting a single sail on an immense mast which matched the boat in length. Complicated rope arrangements forced the sail to curve towards the stern, giving it a triangular appearance. The captain—in a nightshirt, of course, with lots of cloth wrapped around his head—and his similarly clad helper untangled miles of rope. Next, they pulled in two old car tires that had protected an outside so scratched she did not understand why they even bothered and they were off.

'The wind is good,' Ranofer shouted over the banging and creaking above their heads. Trueth could not agree. The boat was leaning dangerously to one side, skirting a waterline she regarded with trepidation.

Crocodiles again?

Metjen showed his excellent teeth in a way that would have made any reptile proud.

I can only hope the minions of Sobek know who to bite in the bum should they be around. Tell me while we're at it—do you do this mind-talking with Ranofer and Rani-Ra as well? And can you tell me how I can start this off myself? I don't like it when you push your thoughts into my head like that. I should at least be able to retaliate.

She crossed her arms but hastily grabbed hold of the railing again, only to let go as something bumped against the side and sloshed away promptly.

Only a dead dog, don't worry. Yes, we all do it, but in order to be able to project yourself, you'll need training. This brings me to the usual subject, the one you don't wish to discuss.

The crocodile in Metjen's smile snarled briefly and sank under just as they were reaching the safe harbour of the other side.

Biohazard material, which upon closer inspection turned out to be pound notes, was exchanged together with smiles, some of which were more toothless than others and much back-slapping. Trueth was not sure whether the hand-shaking was any better, and she tried to clean hers with a sani-wipe when nobody was observing her. 

Unfortunately people had been alerted to their presence, and she was being assaulted by a cacophony of male voices offering her felucca—no thank you, she had just come in on one, horse carriage—no thank you, not that either as she did not like the look of that horse, nor the vehicle it was pulling and least of all the driver, camels— no they did not seem to have those on offer so she asked for one, her voice at the most hopeful.

That would sort them out.

Agitated reactions from her three companions and the disturbing sight of twenty carriage drivers and an even larger amount of felucca captains digging for their mobile phones in the depths of their galabiyas made her realise that this had not been such a clever comment after all.

Will you shut up! 

'Sorry, I thought they would go away if I asked for things they didn't have.' Trueth apologised as they had finally extricated themselves from the muddle.

More biohazard had been shared, from Trueth's own purse, she felt that contrite. At least nobody seemed to harbour any bad feelings, instead they had all shaken her hands and only now did she dare to get out the sani-wipes again.

'You should know better than to embarrass people, even if they are a bit overwhelming. Business hasn't been good for far too long, and they all need to eat. Especially the horses,' Rani-Ra said.

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Image copyright KV6: of Photo taken by Hajor, Dec.2001 from WikiCommons

This chapter is dedicated to @Minusfractions who writes SciFi and has a truly unique voice I would recognise anywhere. Even without the saloon....