Ankhu sighed when he saw them.

  ‘Am I never to rest?’

  Piay bowed. ‘We will not keep you long, wise one, but we were told you may be able to help us with a matter of the greatest urgency.’

  ‘As long as you were not sent by that fat slug Zahur.’

  Hannu chuckled. ‘Harsh words for the man who keeps you fed. Can’t see him liking that!’

  ‘I have reached the age where no man sees me as a threat. Besides, I am too valuable to Zahur to be dismissed. I could empty my bladder on his feet and he would still laugh and clap his hands.’

  Ankhu strode over to the large cushion and flexed his fingers. Hannu grunted and moved to a smaller cushion so that the master of the chamber could sit where he pleased.

  Once he was settled, the scribe looked Piay up and down.

  ‘You are Taita’s man, is that true?’

  ‘Yes, my name is Piay. This is Hannu. You know Taita?’

  ‘I know of him. A wise man. A knowledgeable man. And a long-lived one, I am told, for the stories of Taita have been circulating for a very long time.’

  ‘So I am told. But he does not look . . .’ Piay let his words die with a smile.

  ‘Like me? The years have etched their story on my flesh, that is true. I wonder what Taita’s secret is. Perhaps losing your balls to a knife traps a man’s potency within him so that he can escape the ravages of time. But that is a higher price than I would wish to pay.’

  Ankhu dipped his fingers into a bowl of dates and sucked on one for a while before chewing slowly.

  ‘If Taita thinks you are worthy, then who am I to argue?’ the scribe said eventually. ‘These hours of quiet are normally reserved for my own investigations, but I will hear your plea.’

  Piay felt relieved. Having seen how formidable Ankhu was, and how straight-talking, he felt more confident that he could get the guidance he needed.

  ‘What I am about to show you is of great importance,’ Piay said, moving to sit cross-legged in front of the scribe. ‘To me, to Taita, to all of Egypt. Don’t ask me why it carries such weight for I cannot . . . will not say. I hope you will trust me on this matter.’

  Ankhu nodded. His eyes twinkled in the candlelight. He was intrigued now.

  ‘And I know I cannot force you to do anything against your will,’ Piay continued, ‘but I must ask you not to discuss this matter with anyone else. Not with Zahur, nor with the other scribes. It must remain a secret between us. This is not something I say lightly. To speak of this thing that I am about to reveal could cost my life, your life . . . It could cost the very soul of Egypt.’

  A playful smile flickered on the scribe’s lips. ‘The soul of Egypt.’

  ‘Do I have your word on this?’

  Ankhu sucked on the last sweetness of the date, weighing his response, and then said, ‘You have my word. And my word is not given lightly. It is an unbreakable bond.’

  Piay loosened his shoulders. ‘Very well.’

  He dipped into his pouch and pulled out the Disc of Ra. Balancing it on the palm of his hand, he offered it to the scribe. In the torchlight, the circle blazed like the sun itself.

  Ankhu’s eyes widened. ‘Where did you find this?’

  ‘I cannot say. But it has been hidden from the eyes of man for an age.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I see. May I?’ Ankhu reached out a hand, waiting for permission.

  Piay nodded. The scribe took the disc as if he was afraid it would crumble to dust as soon as he touched it. He held it steady on his own palm, the reflected light of the artefact dancing in his dark eyes. Then he raised it, turning it so that same light could play across all the surfaces in the room, revealing details that would be hidden from a cursory glance.

  ‘A magnificent work,’ he breathed. ‘I have never seen the like, and that alone tells me much about its origins. It is Egyptian, of course – the medu netjer, the gods’ words, here and here and here.’ Leaning back, he pronounced, ‘Only one man could have created this. A man who is now a god, because the great powers breathed their spirit into him so he could construct wonders like this.’

  Piay nodded again. ‘Imhotep,’ he murmured.

  ‘Imhotep.’ Ankhu returned his attention to the disc. ‘You have not brought this to me to assess its value so you may sell it and make yourself wealthy?’

  ‘No. We brought it to you to guide us in unlocking its secrets.’

  ‘And secrets there are aplenty, I can see that with only the briefest examination. The disc is dedicated to Ra. You see the sun, the flames upon the edges? Imhotep was a high priest of Ra, in Heliopolis, the City of the Sun.’

  ‘The parts of the disc move,’ Piay prompted.

  ‘I can see that . . . So this is not for decoration, not a work of art. Its beauty does not exist to dazzle the eyes, though it serves that purpose, as all great things do. The skill involved in the fabrication, the value of the gold used, make it something that would be constructed for kings. Or for the gods.’

  ‘What is it, then?’ Piay asked.

  Ankhu tugged at the flames that rotated the discs with short, delicate strokes.

  ‘It is designed to convey knowledge.’

  ‘To a pharaoh?’ Hannu muttered, turning up his nose. ‘Knowledge is for those who advise them.’

  ‘This is true, very true,’ Ankhu said, ‘and therein lies our mystery. Knowledge for the wise, but built from materials that only a king could access.’

  ‘Unless . . .’ Piay bit his tongue. What right did a man like him have to offer up his thoughts to a man of great learning like Ankhu.

  And yet the scribe did not seem offended. He smiled and gently prompted, ‘Go on, let me hear your opinion. You have lived with this object for longer than I and have had time to dwell on its meaning.’

  Piay sucked in a deep breath. ‘Papyri crumble and fade, but gold will survive the years, we all know that. If this knowledge was meant to reach across the ages, then what better a form than etched in gold?’

  ‘Then why not carved in stone?’ Ankhu pushed back. ‘The monuments have lasted an age. Nothing can destroy them – not storm, flood or the baking heat of the sun.’

  Piay had considered this. As an architect, Imhotep had understood the value of stone to stand the test of time. He had begun his quest with a carving and had etched his near-invisible messages in the surface of stones, to be revealed by the Eye of Horus, knowing they would last down the years.

  ‘The great monuments have been all but forgotten, because men do not care enough to preserve them. But gold? That will never be ignored. It will always be desired and men will always keep it safe, and hunt for it, and fight over it. I can’t say what a man as great as Imhotep thought or knew, but it seems to me that if he wanted his knowledge to last forever, he would make sure it was encased in gold.’

  The scribe smiled and wagged a finger at Piay. ‘You are wiser than you appear.’

  Hannu snorted.

  ‘So . . . let us see exactly what is so vital that Imhotep thought it worth preserving for so long.’

  Ankhu leaned forward so his nose was barely a finger’s width from the disc, and then he moved his attention slowly across every single part of the surface, examining every detail, searching for anything that might be half-hidden. He mumbled over the symbols that were etched there, talking to himself.

  ‘. . . above . . .’

  ‘. . . below . . .’

  ‘. . . Osiris . . .’

  The scribe rotated the discs back and forth, lifted the flaps, studying the different words and images that appeared in the windows. Nothing was left unexamined.

  ‘I think it is true to say that without knowing Imhotep it would be impossible to decipher this puzzle,’ Ankhu mused, looking up from under his bushy brows. ‘The Great Architect walked a path between the world of men and the world of gods. He was an astronomer-priest. He looked from our world to the heavens above. And he saw the connection between the two.’

  Ankhu bowed his head again, and once again lost himself to his task. The night deepened. The songs from the city ebbed away and then there was only the breathing of the wind as it rolled in from the desert.

  Piay would not be distracted. He fixed his attention on the old man in front of him and it did not waver. He felt his shoulders tighten as his apprehension grew. What if Ankhu found nothing that could help? If a man so wise was confounded, what hope was there for him and Hannu? They would have reached the end of the road that Imhotep had shown them. He would have failed Taita.

  And Myssa? Would I have failed her, too?

  Piay cursed himself for the question. The only way to survive her loss was to drive all thought of her from his head. One day, he might let her back into his mind. But not now.

  Then, after what seemed like an age, Ankhu looked up again, blinking, seemingly surprised that he had guests.

  ‘What have you found?’ Piay asked.

  Ankhu’s jaw sagged and amazement sparkled in his eyes.

  ‘This disc is a construction of a mind beyond any I can imagine,’ he said. ‘Imhotep was truly a god.’

  ‘So what have you seen?’ Piay pressed, his frustration mounting.

  ‘This is a map of the stars,’ the scribe breathed, ‘and of the earth, too. Both of them intertwined, as I surmised.’

  Hannu jolted forward. ‘The stars? A riddle of the stars?’

  ‘In the days before days, when our civilisation was first forming along the valley of the Nile and the desert beyond, Egypt was shaped by the astronomer-priests,’ Ankhu said. ‘They looked to the stars, and to the gods, and saw how both cast their spell upon this land. Their wisdom flourished, a thousand blossoms – writing, architecture, numbers. What they discovered still guides us to this day. But the stars came first.’

  Piay leaned forward, intrigued. ‘The stars cast their spell upon the earth, all men know that. The rising of Sopdet signals the flooding of the Nile.1 This has been known from the earliest times.’

  The scribe nodded. ‘But there is so much more. The stars hold our destiny.’ Ankhu tapped the disc. ‘This is what Imhotep learned, and he has left instructions on how to use this wonderful object he has created. See these words here – “The earth is a mirror. What happens in the heavens is reflected on the land.”’

  Piay winced. His thoughts felt like dull mud against the bright mercury of the scribe’s thinking.

  ‘And here,’ Ankhu continued. ‘“The pathway to the gods lies at our feet.”’

  ‘It’s a map, aye,’ Hannu growled. ‘A map to find a great treasure. The signs that point the way are over our heads. But the answers lie in the ground.’

  Ankhu lowered the disc so they could all see. He lifted one window and behind it Piay glimpsed the mark for ‘river’.

  ‘As the discs turn, this window reveals landmarks upon the earth,’ the scribe said. ‘And around the outer part of the disc are the stars as they appear overhead.’

  He moved the disc one notch so that the window now showed a date palm. The stars etched on the outer ring had moved, too.

  Ankhu tapped his finger on a notch in the outer ring which seemed to indicate a star beneath it.

  ‘This is Sopdet.’

  Piay grinned. ‘When the window shows the Nile, the outer ring reveals the star with power over the river.’

  The scribe nodded. ‘Then we move this inner ring until Sopdet shows in this window. And in this window here, we now find . . .’

  He lifted the flap to reveal the symbol for ‘river’ once more.

  Hannu shook his head. ‘What help is that? It’s just the same.’

  ‘Let me look,’ Piay said.

  Ankhu handed over the disc. Piay began to revolve the plates one step at a time, noting the symbols that appeared in the first window. He paused at one.

  ‘What is that?’ he asked.

  The scribe examined it and shook his head.

  Piay glanced at Hannu. ‘This looks to me very much like a shaft in the ground. What do you say?’

  Hannu shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

  The notch in the outer ring now pointed to a trail of three stars.

  ‘And these are?’ Piay asked.

  ‘Sahu,’2 Ankhu replied. ‘The Hidden One.’

  Piay nodded. ‘The Hidden One,’ he repeated. ‘That speaks to me.’

  He shifted the inner disc until he found the three stars of Sahu.

  ‘Now,’ he said. ‘The moment of truth.’

  Piay lifted the third window.

  ‘What is that?’ he asked.

  Ankhu leaned in once more to examine the symbol.

  ‘That,’ he said with confidence, ‘is the Pyramid of Khufu, the greatest of all the monuments.’

  ‘M

  en aren’t supposed to set foot inside the tombs,’ Hannu said. ‘Once is enough . . . And now the Pyramid of Khufu? No living man should ever do that. There are curses, and spells. Khufu himself will likely rise up to drag us down into the underworld.’

  ‘Imhotep has set us this challenge,’ Piay replied. ‘So we either run away or we face our fears.’

  ‘I’d rather face the whole Hyksos army, single-handed.’

  Piay turned and gripped Hannu’s shoulders. ‘This is where we are tested. If we’re found wanting, then all is lost. It is time for us to risk everything. Even our souls.’

  Hannu sucked in air, steadying himself. ‘All right . . . I don’t like it, but I will be there – as always.’

  Piay clapped him on the shoulder. No further words needed to be said.

  They walked on through the peaceful gardens, breathing in the cool scents of the night. The moon was reflected in the dark mirror of the pool. Everywhere was still.

  Piay paused and looked up at the stars.

  ‘Tonight has seen another door open for us. But the candle’s burning low and we can’t afford to hang about. Akkan must know by now that we’ve survived. He and Tallus will come looking for us.’

  ‘As long as those bastard Sons of Apis don’t realise we’re moving closer to their precious secret. Swords I can deal with, but poison and magic dust in the air?’ Hannu shook his head.

  ‘Yes, but we’re at the front of the race,’ Piay said. ‘And that’s where we have to stay.’

  T

  he gods came to men in dreams – everyone knew that.

  Piay felt the cool night wind caress his face as he looked along the majestic Nile. Across the expanse of water, the full moon hung over Thebes, its lambent rays turning the City of a Hundred Gates into a majestic citadel of white light.

  On the far bank, Taita walked. Piay realised that for some reason he was standing alone on the other side of the river from his master, in the necropolis, surrounded by the great monuments to the dead. He called and waved, his voice growing increasingly louder, but Taita seemed not to hear him and eventually his master vanished into the night.

  Piay was alone, and yet he sensed a presence all around him – invisible, intangible. It felt as if someone was about to tap him on the shoulder. He knew this sensation by now.

  A band of light unfurled from that vast moon and rolled down to the land, forming a shimmering white path across the black water of the river. Piay half-remembered the last time he’d had this vision, on the vast lake in the highlands where the Nile began.

  A figure strode along the white road over the river. As it drew closer Piay could see the mummy wrappings, the menat necklace and the crook and the flail. The Traveller was coming.

  Khonsu came to a halt in the centre of the river, the glow from the moonlit band enveloping him.

  Though the god’s mouth did not move, Piay heard a voice in his head, as soothing as the sound of the wind through the rushes. ‘I am three things – Embracer, Pathfinder, Defender. You are three things – Embracer, Pathfinder, Defender. Let love, wisdom and courage guide you.’

  Despite the calm words, Piay felt a shiver of unease. Why was Khonsu telling him these things now?

  As if in answer to his thought, the god pushed his flail forward. Piay turned, following the direction Khonsu was indicating.

  Beyond the monuments of the necropolis, a red glow was rising along the dark horizon, as if a great conflagration raged there. The wavering crimson haze seethed upwards until it blocked out the sky and then, in the heart of it, Piay could see two fierce eyes burning. The beast-head of Seth emerged from the cloud, looming over the necropolis. The figure was vast, dwarfing Khonsu, seemingly enveloping the entire land.

  This great war is coming to a conclusion, Piay thought. This can be the only meaning of this vision. A final battle above the land of the dead.

  Piay felt a horrible apprehension at the disparity in size and strength of the two combatants. Khonsu had chosen him, but he stood alone against the power of Seth and all his malevolent followers.

  How could he hope to win?

  P

  iay jolted awake. He was slick with sweat and his mouth was as dry as the desert sands. The instant his eyes snapped open, he cried out.

  A face hovered just above his own, instantly merging in his mind with the dream of Seth’s beast-head.

  He scrambled back across the bed until he realised a low chuckle was echoing all around him.

  Ankhu juddered with mirth.

  ‘A man so easily scared has something on his conscience.’

  ‘What are you doing in my chamber?’

  ‘I have consulted the gods since our last meeting,’ Ankhu said, ‘and they have spoken. It is my belief that what you are undertaking is of such importance that I should accompany you to the Pyramid of Khufu.’

  Piay pushed himself up, stretching his limbs. He felt that one half of him was still trapped in his vision.

  ‘Because you don’t believe that something of such importance should be entrusted to a pair of thick-headed adventurers?’

  Ankhu shrugged, ‘Your words, not mine.’

  ‘But you agree?’

  ‘Yes . . . but a man who knows his limitations is better off than one who does not.’