haunt the former domain of his rival. Even the steward Kasa claimed to have seen foul monsters abroad in this place at night.
As they emerged into the valley, the wind picked up, scouring the desert floor, flinging grit in their faces. Meren paused to bring a length of his headcloth over his face. Then everyone went still as a strange sound traveled to them with the breeze. It was like the distant, hollow call of trumpets heralding the approach of ghostly armies. And behind the trumpeting came high, thin wails, crashing upon them with infernal discord.
Several bodyguards drew closer to the king, facing outward and gripping their spears. Karoya set himself at the king's back, and Tutankhamun cast a wild, questioning look at Meren.
Meren smiled at him. 'I've been here many times as a child and youth, majesty. Never have I met a demon or a netherworld monster.'
'Never?'
'Never, but the villagers are afraid of this place. They say those who stumble upon the haunted temple return cursed with madness, or never return. Remember, that's why I chose it.'
'Oh,' the king said faintly. 'Yes, how clever.'
'Majesty, my cousins and I even spent an entire night in the temple. Djet dared us, and we dared him. We stayed the whole time and saw not one fiend.'
'Of course. I'm not afraid, you know.'
'Of course, majesty.'
Meren led the way, approaching the temple's only entrance, a gap in the walls that must have been a door at one time. As they neared the structure, men rose from behind the mounds the surrounded it and saluted him.
'Reia, all is well?'
'Yes, lord, we-pharaoh!'
Figures appeared from behind various hiding places and dropped to the ground.
'Rise, Reia,' Tutankhamun said, 'and tell the men to keep silent. We're going inside.'
Meren followed the king as he stepped through the gap in the temple walls. Before them lay a vast empty space, dark except for one lamp held by the waiting Kysen. Nento was beside him. When the king appeared, the men inside dropped to the ground. The lamp faltered as Kysen set it down, making shadows dance on the walls.
The king nodded at Meren, who gave permission for the charioteers to withdraw. Kysen and Nento stood, their eyes downcast. Oblong crates filled much of the interior.
'His majesty wishes to see for himself the results of the restoration.'
His thighs brushing together, oiled hair covered in a film of dust, Nento bustled over to Meren and the king and bowed. 'This humble cup-bearer greets the Lord Meren. I am Nentowaref, Scribe of the Royal Treasury, Overseer of the Seal, Overseer of the Magazines of the Temple of Amunhotep III. No effort has been spared by the priests, O divine one, but-'
'We know who you are, Nento,' Meren said. 'This is not the time for ceremony. It is the time for silence and hidden actions. Please show the golden one what he wishes to see.'
Nento clamped his mouth shut and nodded. Bowing and shuffling, he conducted them to a tarp-covered mass set in the middle of the temple. Kysen lit the way with his lamp. Nento drew off the covering and the fine linen shroud that lay beneath.
There was a splash of reflected light as it hit a golden body. Meren heard the king suck in his breath. Nento began to chant spells from The Book of the Dead in a trembling whisper.
Like the body that lay within, the coffin had been cleaned and restored, and Meren thanked the gods that he'd ordered most of the work done before it was taken from Horizon of Aten. The old, solidified unguent, torn shrouds, and dead floral wreaths had been removed. Yet the coffin remained a strange sight.
Akhenaten had designed it, departing from the traditional form of the body of the god Osiris. Instead he'd used his own image, lying with his arms crossed over his hollow chest and holding the scepters of Upper and Lower Egypt. His figure, never the classic one of traditional art, emphasized wide hips, plump thighs, and spindly legs. Instead of being wrapped in the protecting wings of the goddesses of Upper and Lower Egypt, the heretic had wrapped himself in the symbolic rays of the Aten. The rays ended in stylized hands holding the ankh, the symbol of the breath of life. 'Meren, I want to see him.'
Help was summoned so that the coffin could be opened. Pins of solid gold were removed, but it still took nine men to lift the lid. Meren dismissed the charioteers again, and he and the king went to stand by his brother's head. The body had been covered by another shroud, but one so sheer that the gold mask covering Akhenaten's face could be seen. True to his own doctrine, the king had ordered the mask in a style that exaggerated his already gaunt face, fleshy lips, and narrow, slanting eyes.
'See, majesty. The embalmer priests have made him whole again.'
Meren asked forgiveness of the gods for this lie. The inlaid gold bands that surrounded the body were replicas, the originals having been stolen by the desecrators. Most of the outer protective amulets were also new. The gold covering on the hands concealed wads of linen bandages molded in the correct shape. The thieves had torn the arms off in their quest for the heavy gold bracelets and rings that covered them.
The king uttered a long sigh. 'Indeed, they have made him whole. I was afraid there would only be pieces of him left.'
'No, majesty. We discovered the atrocity before they could complete their evil work.' Another lie, but if it would lift the burden of guilt from the king's spirit, a lie well told.
'And the queen?'
'If thy majesty commands, we will open her coffin as well, but there was no damage to her. I suppose they hadn't the time.'
Tutankhamun gazed at the heavy-lidded, inlaid eyes of the king's mask. 'I was so young when he died, and I'd almost forgotten what he looked like.' The king lowered his voice. 'Do you know how many times I've wished he and Smenkhare hadn't died? The priests of Amun and Osiris say the gods sent the plague to him because he tried to wipe them out. Perhaps they're right. But I wish they'd spared Nefertiti.'
'She didn't suffer long, majesty.'
'They wouldn't let me near her, you know. And because I wasn't there, I had to imagine what happened to her. Tell me what happened to her, Meren.'
Tutankhamun's mother had been Tiye, the powerful Great Royal Wife of Amunhotep the Magnificent. Tiye bore her youngest son late and died when Tutankhamun was still a naked babe. Nefertiti had taken charge of him, and he remembered her more than his real mother. Meren had always feared pharaoh would ask such questions one day. The time had come to give part of the truth.
He glanced across the coffin to where Nento was still chanting spells. Then he began to whisper to the king. 'I know little, majesty, except what my cousin's wife has told me. Anhai was in attendance on the queen when she fell ill. Ay has never spoken of it. I think his daughter's death still pains him.'
'Did she suffer much?'
'Please, majesty. I know you're troubled by this terrible crime, and-'
'I want to know, and I can't ask Ay.'
Sighing, Meren drew nearer the king and lowered his voice. 'As with others, the plague allowed demons to enter the queen's body. She saw visions of them and yet couldn't see her surroundings. She was fevered, and the voice of her heart grew so loud it could be heard by those standing a few paces away.' He hesitated at the pain in the king's eyes, but the boy had asked for the truth. 'Her ka tried to fight the demons, and the struggle made her body convulse. She fought hard, but lost and lapsed into the deep sleep.' The queen had died a few days after she came down with the sickness.
When Meren finished, the king said nothing. Meren stared at the mass of solid gold that housed the body of Nefertiti. Her features had been lovingly replicated by the artisans of the royal workshops-the hollow, fragile jaw, the long neck and full lower lip. She had been the embodiment of Hathor, goddess of love and beauty, and her ka had housed a spirit as sage and clever as Toth, god of learning and wisdom. A tragic end, and one upon which Meren never cared to dwell.
'Leave me for a moment,' the king said.
Meren beckoned to Kysen and Nento, and they went to stand by the temple entrance. The king stood in the pool of gold cast by the lamp and the coffins, closed his eyes, and began to chant silently. It was Meren's
