“What happened to me? I never been so damn tired and sore in my life.”
“You got bit by a mosquito.”
Ray looked at me without understanding, as if I had told him a joke he didn’t quite catch. “What do you mean by that?”
“You got sick. You are sick. The mosquito gave you a virus, a bad one.”
“I been bit before, Z.”
“I know.”
Sailor was standing behind me and he stepped closer, so Ray could see him. “We shall get you through this, Ray. Sleep, rest, and try to eat when you are able. Zianno, Dejik, and I shall get you well.”
Ray stared back at Sailor, then turned his head and tried to focus on Dejik, who leaned forward and offered him a small amount of broth in a bowl. He turned back to me. “This don’t make sense, Z.”
“I know, Ray. I can’t explain it. Let’s just get you well, then we’ll figure out why.”
Ray was rapidly losing consciousness again. As his eyes were closing he asked, “What about the Fleur-du- Mal?” He fell asleep before Sailor or I said a word in reply.
After Dejik made sure Ray was comfortable, I asked Sailor to follow me outside. Ray’s question could not be ignored. In the open air, under the stars, I looked over at Sailor. I was suddenly angry at the fact Ray had only contracted the virus because we were on a wild goose chase after an object that may or may not exist, for the reason that it might help us trap a madman and assassin called the Fleur-du-Mal. It made no sense. It all seemed futile and pointless. “Why does the Fleur-du-Mal want the Octopus and the Sixth Stone, if there is one? Especially when he has never wanted any of the other five. Why, Sailor, why is it important?”
“Because we are aging, Zianno. Not individually, but together as a whole, the Meq are aging. I am certain of this, as is the Fleur-du-Mal. Zeru-Meq has told me so. He believes the Sixth Stone will have different… characteristics, shall we say, than the ones you and I carry. He believes it may have a power over the others and will enable him to do whatever he pleases, including telekinesis. He could be right. We must find it first.”
“We? Or do you mean
“Zianno, please. You are upset and confused about what has happened to Ray. Calm down and you will realize there was no way to have foreseen this. Ray’s life and health are sacred to me. We must stay here as long as it takes for him to recover. We shall worry about the Fleur-du-Mal and the Octopus once Ray regains his strength, and only then, not one day sooner.” Sailor twirled the blue sapphire on his finger. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I said, “and once again, Sailor, I apologize. I was wrong.”
“Unnecessary,” he answered, “and remember, Zianno, Ray is under two hundred years old. Perhaps that shall help speed his recovery.”
I looked at Sailor and smiled. Only Umla-Meq and a very few other beings on the planet would consider “under two hundred years” as being young.
Dejik took meticulous care of Ray, keeping him clean, cool, and fed the best she could. She massaged his limbs daily, sang songs, and recited incantations during rough periods when he slipped back into unconsciousness. In return, Sailor and I made frequent trips to larger villages and trading centers, bringing back simple medicines such as sulphate of zinc, quinine, and carbolic acid to aid in the care of her own people. In six months, Ray was able to stand, but he was too weak to travel. A few minutes of walking would bring on total exhaustion and pain. Ray told me once, “I feel like there’s nothin’ but sand and grit in my joints, Z, and it’s all rubbin’ together every time I move.”
Two more months passed with little improvement. I knew he was starting to feel better, however, when he asked Dejik for second and third helpings of a simple dish consisting mainly of broad beans cooked in oil.
“What do you call this?” Ray asked, licking his spoon and rubbing his belly.
“Fool,” Dejik answered.
Ray stared back at her. “Well, you don’t have to call me names, do you?”
“No, no, no. That ‘fool,’ that ‘fool,’” she said, pointing at his bowl of beans.
“Perfect,” Ray said, “I mistook myself for a bowl of beans.”
Dejik never once questioned us about who we were or what we were doing in the Sudan. Sailor had a simple explanation. “She is a shaman, Zianno. Our existence is not out of place in her world. Her reality accepts us the same way she accepts the magic in plants, spells, and dreams. To Dejik, no natural wonder is strange. This ability, this state of being, also allows her to be an excellent healer and medicine woman.”
I had to agree. In two more months Ray was strong as ever and it was not because of Sailor or me. He began running for exercise and pleasure, and he told me he could now feel the weather changing in his bones as well as his mind.
“Is that good?” I asked.
“You bet, Z. Now I got a reserve system, if you know what I mean.”
After thanking her in every way we could and promising to return, we said good-bye to Dejik on a beautiful October morning, leaving with a cousin of hers who accompanied us on the long journey to Khartoum. From there we traveled a short distance to Omdurman, then by donkey, boat, and train to Aswan. In another week, we were finally approaching the outskirts of Luxor. It was a Friday. The date was November 17, 1922.
Once we were on the streets of Luxor, there was only one story being circulated. Twelve days earlier, Howard Carter had discovered a missing tomb in the Valley of the Kings, possibly with its seals still in tact. Carter was going to open the tomb as soon as he returned from Cairo with his benefactor, Lord Carnarvon. He was due back within a week.
I was speechless at the news. Ray laughed and said, “Damn!” Sailor said, “Damn, indeed.”
I am batting. I have just swung and hit the ball deep into right center. I watch it fly as I run to first base. The ball seems propelled by magic and all eyes in the grandstands are following the ball. At the apex of its flight, the ball defies gravity and stops in midair. Everyone is frozen in place. The ball begins changing color and becomes a black dot growing larger, widening, then I recognize it as the moon sliding into place in front of the sun. It is a total solar eclipse, the Bitxileiho, the Strange Window. I hear steps behind me. I turn and the umpire is walking toward me, ignoring the eclipse. He takes off his mask. I know him. He has green eyes, he is familiar, but… something is different…something is wrong.
“You’re out, Z!”
I opened my eyes. Ray was standing over me, blocking the sun.
“What?”
“You went out like a light. You’re dreaming. Wake up, we’re almost there.”
I looked around. We were on water, crammed in a small boat with two dozen others, mostly men, but also several boys about our size. Everyone, including us, wore loosely wrapped turbans, simple linen robes, and sandals. Then I remembered.
We were crossing the Nile on our way to meet with Rais Hussein and his brother Gad in the Valley of the Kings. It was eight days after we arrived in Luxor. The news of Howard Carter’s discovery had spread everywhere in the country. The Valley of the Kings was already crowded and access to the site had become limited. It would not be long before the pompous and the powerful appeared and took over completely. It had taken us six days to track down Rais Hussein. At first, Sailor tried to reach Giles Xuereb on Malta, but was unsuccessful. Then we found out through a contact in Cairo that Giles had gone missing. He had disappeared without a trace, leaving all his belongings in the house and a half-eaten meal on the table. The same thought came to each of us. More than enough time had elapsed in order for the Fleur-du-Mal to realize Giles had deceived him. Revenge would be swift and harsh. We feared for Giles, but we did not speak of it and kept searching for Rais. Eventually, we located him in Gurna, not far from Howard Carter’s residence. Immediately, Sailor made Rais an offer he could not refuse. If Rais would get us on the dig site and near to the tomb, Sailor offered to pay Rais and his brother two hundred pounds sterling. Rais and Gad Hussein were two of Howard Carter’s most trusted workmen. They had access and they could get us close. Rais agreed to the deal. We were to meet him at a specified location in two days. Now, on a mild and balmy Sunday morning, we were almost there.
A nervous, skinny man wearing a fez waited for us as we disembarked. After only giving his name, he led us to another man waiting with donkeys. We followed him on a long trek along narrow trails through rubble and rock until we found Rais and Gad resting in the shadow of a boulder at a crossroads in the trails. They both seemed
