Amon played with my fingers. “That is an interesting theory.”
“I believe it to be true. Hatshepsut was a beautiful woman. The Order of the Sphinx only accepted women of great beauty.”
Dr. Hassan looked at me with a strange seeking expression, as if I could somehow corroborate his theory. The best I could do was give him a slight shrug and hope that he couldn’t read the panic in my eyes.
He continued as if desperate to make us understand. “The mummy they discovered in the tomb of the wet nurse suffered from diabetes. She died of bone cancer, and had arthritis and bad teeth. That mummy is not Hatshepsut. I know it!” he cried fiercely.
Dr. Dagher stepped forward. “You must calm yourself, Osahar. It does no good to get worked up over this. This theory has put you on the outs with the archaeology community. If you want to have your full rights restored, you must at least attempt to accept that their conclusions might be accurate.”
Dr. Hassan took a deep breath and gave his mentee a fleeting smile. “Yes, thank you, Sebak.” He patted the young man’s hand and sighed. “What would I do without your support? Eh?”
Sebak smiled. “I shudder to think what you would do without me.” As the younger scientist retreated into the background, I noticed that there was no warmth in his smile.
“I am sorry to burden the two of you with my ideas,” Dr. Hassan murmured.
“Without ideas, many discoveries would remain hidden,” Amon volunteered. “I, for one, believe there may be some truth to your theory.”
Dr. Hassan’s melancholy expression suddenly lifted into a smile, and he nodded gratefully.
“Thank you. A woman such as Hatshepsut would have a tomb worthy of her. She would have been buried with her beloved lionesses, would have had a treasure room full of jewelry, furniture, linens, flowers, books. I will continue to look for her.” He shrugged. “It is my life’s mission. She calls to me across the centuries, and I will not abandon my search.” Quiet fell over the tent as Dr. Hassan excused himself.
I desperately wanted to talk to Amon now that we were alone, but my body betrayed me. I was able to move a bit and groan, but Amon pressed his hand to my shoulder and whispered, “I do not believe that this man means us harm.”
I wanted to shout that a man desperate for answers might do anything to get them. At the very least I wanted to talk to Amon about his jars of death and what the crushing of them meant, but Amon leaned toward me, bringing his lips to my forehead.
As with the cooling kiss he’d given me in the passageway, a kind of magic spread through my body when his lips came into contact with my skin. But instead of a chilling effect, my eyes and limbs grew heavy once more, and the worries plaguing my mind seemed less important. Before I was lost to Amon’s sleeping touch, he said quietly, “Rest now. All will be right in the morning.”
It felt like just a moment later when I woke to bright sunlight flashing across my eyelids. Slowly, I blinked my eyes open and noticed the tent opening flapping in the breeze, letting in a strip of sunlight that fell across my face, appearing and then disappearing.
I smelled the crisp air of desert morning mingled with the scent of frying meat, and my mouth watered. Hunger gnawed at my belly, and as I struggled to sit up, testing each joint and muscle as I did so, I wondered if my digestive tract was up to the challenge of a mystery-meat breakfast.
Amon, likely hearing my attempts to sit up, came in to help me. Leaning on his arm, I slowly made my way outside to the breakfast fire, where I accepted a heaping portion of what appeared to be Spam and eggs.
When the food was consumed and Amon seemed assured of my improved health, he began making excuses for us to leave. Dr. Hassan immediately asked his mentee, “Sebak, would you mind letting the group we are meeting at the temple know that we have been slightly delayed this morning?”