“Hmm…Well, first things first, do you see your canopic jars anywhere?”
We spent several minutes searching, but came up with nothing but dust. It wasn’t until I was wandering back toward where we’d entered that I noticed the funerary cones lining the entrance to Amon’s tomb. Sure enough, one of the cones was missing near the top of the arch. I called Amon over. He hoisted me up on his shoulders to get a closer look.
Though it was dark in the hole where the cone would be, there was unmistakably something inside. Overcoming my squeamishness, I reached in and touched what turned out to be a statue. There were, in fact, two statues nestled into the gap where the funerary cone belonged, each about the length of a pen. I pulled out one and then the other, handing them down to Amon.
Grabbing my hands, he helped me slide off his shoulders and then picked up the two statues and examined them.
“What are they?” I asked as I stared at them. One of the statues looked like an ancient pharaoh with little carvings across the torso and its arms folded across its chest. It was a beautiful jade color. Very striking, the piece was probably worth a fortune.
The other was shorter, almost half as tall as the first, and was made of dark stone. It held a large parchment that was torn down the middle. Its shape was similar to that of a heart, and there was an expression of delight on its ugly face.
“They are called shabtis. At one time, human servants were entombed with their leaders, with the understanding that they would journey to the afterlife with their masters and continue to act as servants for the dead kings or pharaohs.”
“That’s barbaric!” At Amon’s confused expression, I clarified, “Cruel. Horrifying.”
“Yes. Eventually this practice changed to entomb servants only symbolically. These statues represent those who would serve the one buried.”
“So these guys are supposed to serve you?”
“In theory.”
“Did they? Have you met them in the afterlife?”
“No. But I wonder…”
“Wonder what?”
Amon lifted his gaze from the statues to me. “There is a spell.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of this. Your spells don’t work out so well for me.”
Beginning to grow excited, Amon continued, “But if I raise them, they can use their power to help us. Do you see? Anubis must have placed them here. They can seek out my canopic jars, and then I will no longer need to borrow your energy. Our connection can be dissolved without risking—”
Amon stopped abruptly and I narrowed my eyes. “Risking what?”
He waved a hand. “It is unimportant. The benefits outweigh the risks. I will awaken them,” he declared.
“Hold on there, Houdini. Don’t you think we should talk about this? I mean, do we really need supernatural aid? I think we’re doing pretty well on our own.”
Amon took my arm and squeezed. A frosty fear that stretched like spiny fingers wove into his conscious mind, a dread that I realized he’d kept hidden from me. I caught only a glimpse of it before it was gone. Though I didn’t know the cause, whatever was bothering him was terribly real. “You must trust me,” he said as his eyes desperately searched mine.
His grip on my arm actually hurt. “Okay,” I said softly. “We’ll do it the sun god way.”
Letting out a sigh, Amon released my arm and winced when he saw me rub it. Reaching out his hand, he cupped my cheek, then slid his fingers behind my neck, lowering his head to touch mine. “I am sorry I hurt you, Lily. It was not my intention.”
“It’s fine,” I replied.
After a moment, he stepped back, placed the two statues on the ground, and launched into the weaving of his spell.
Shabti servants, apportioned to me,
You who molder in corruption,
I summon you from the realm of the dead.
No obstacle shall deter you as you make your way to my side.
Come! Come to the one who calls you forth.
Make arable the fields that sustain me.
Bank the raging floods that threaten me.
Convey the weighty stones that shelter me.