The Dark Lord

support. Dust trickled down around her in thin, corkscrew streams. The shock in the earth did not repeat and the Daughters—now sliding one of the coffin lids aside with great care—did not appear to have noticed.

That wasn't an earthquake! It was behind me. Shirin turned, hurried along the ledge, looking for a door, an alcove, anything at all. A dozen steps down, she came to the recessed opening and found, to her surprise, a pinhole of glowing light within deeper shadow. Looking over her shoulder, Shirin saw the Egyptian woman Penelope barking orders for her followers to break into the second coffin. From the puzzled, angry look on the woman's face, Shirin guessed there'd been no 'device' in the sarcophagus.

Muffled noise came to her ears and she turned back to the point of light, suddenly worried. Inside the recess, there was a curved wall and a stone ledge. Kneeling down, Shirin put her eye to the tiny opening and found herself looking—through delicately painted gauze—into another funeral chamber. This space too was filled with painted round columns, wall mosaics and two stone coffins.

Sparking orange torchlight flared, momentarily blinding her. Shirin drew back. This close to the wall, she could hear sharp voices calling in the room beyond the spy hole. Roman voices. Feeling a chill on her neck, she swallowed and looked again.

Fellaheen in tan-and-white robes swarmed into the chamber, followed by an enormous Numidian and a familiar-looking Latin soldier. The Romans were busy poking and prodding in every crevice and container in the other tomb. Shirin froze. A shape moved across the pinhole, cutting off the light. From only a foot away, she heard a familiar voice.

—|—

'This wall is solid,' Thyatis called out, rapping her knuckles across the surface of a drum column protruding from the wall of the tomb chamber. Clouds of painted, sparkling dust fell away from each blow. The air in the room grew hazy as the fellaheen, Mithridates and Vladimir made a rough sweep of the chamber. The dais holding the two coffins was raised on a series of steps, with pillars crowding close on either side. Nicholas stood beside the doorway, examining the triangular shape of the door barrier. As the Latin had posited, the slab was keyed to holes in the floor.

There was nothing in the chamber matching their description of the 'device.'

'How large is this thing?' Vladimir's accent seemed almost humorous in the thick air. He was crouched atop one of the coffins, long fingers tracing the chiseled outline of a king buried in stone. 'Could it be inside one of these jenazah?'

Nicholas turned towards his friend, scratching the line of his jaw as he thought. 'Well, the one in Rome is as tall as a man, but the bronze disks might be folded up, or packed together...'

Thyatis paused in her examination of the wall, nose twitching. Her sense of smell might not be a match for the Walach, but there was something in the air. A sweet, warm scent like drying roses. She stiffened, memory tugging at the hem of her cloak. Wait! I remember...

'Here!' one of the fellaheen shouted, distracting her. 'Master, I've found a hidden door!'

Thyatis leapt down from the ledge, reaching the man's side in an instant. The Egyptian pointed fearfully. Like the column Thyatis had checked, the roundel seemed to be part and parcel of the stone, but some ancient tremor in the earth had split cunning plaster and paint away, revealing a cavity.

'Stand back,' Thyatis barked, as the fellaheen crowded up. Mithridates and Vladimir pushed through the men, each man holding an iron-headed sledge. The Roman woman drew her blade, letting the mirror-bright metal rasp from the sheath. Nicholas took up a position on her left, his blade bare, and—for an instant, in the dim light of the torches—the length of metal seemed to gleam with an inner fire.

Thyatis nodded to Mithridates. 'Clear the opening.'

The African set his shoulders, muscles bulging under his tunic and the sledge whipped into the plaster lathes, shattering the ancient wood. More dust billowed forth, but Mithridates narrowed his eyes and the opening was entirely clear in three more blows.

Thyatis fanned the air with her straw hat. The light of the torches revealed a short passage and a startlingly normal-looking door. Surprised, she felt a breath of cold air brush her face.

'I'll go first,' Nicholas said, eagerly shouldering Thyatis aside.

—|—

A loud crash echoed through the hidden tomb and Shirin scrambled out of the watch post. The Daughters had frozen in shock at the sound. They were staring in horror toward a second opening to the Khazar woman's left. Another crash followed, then a third. Shirin raised an eyebrow. Well, she thought, I guess the Romans did live to find us!

'Out!' Penelope hissed, harsh voice cutting through the silence and surprise. 'Everyone out through the tunnel. Now!' The older woman drew back, her shortsword aimed at the sound.

The women around the second sarcophagus abandoned their tools and ran for the passage, cloaks flying out behind them. Shirin darted across the chamber to the opened coffins. Penelope was in the tunnel mouth, her face a furious glare, beckoning for the Khazar woman to hurry. Behind Shirin, she heard the clatter of men forcing a door open. Faint streaks of light painted the wall above the sarcophagi, thrown by Roman torches. In the poor light, Shirin paused, gazing curiously down upon the centuries-dead figures in the two coffins.

At her left hand, a woman of medium height was fully wrapped in traditional bandages, her hands crossed on her chest, holding a crook and an ankh. A golden mask covered her face and a jeweled, golden sun-disk holding a layered eight-rayed star lay on her breast. The Khazar woman frowned, seeing the star, old memories intruding. How odd... she thought. Why does she bear a crest from old Persepolis? The death masque showed a personage of no great beauty, but even across the centuries Shirin felt a palpable chill to look upon the likeness of Kleopatra, Lord of the Two Lands, Queen and Empress. Small ceramic jars lined the stone bier, wrapped in gold and silver vestments, accompanied by goods of all kinds.

Another crash reverberated through the dusty air. Shirin wrenched her hand away from the star jewel. No time for souvenirs! she thought guiltily. The second coffin held a man—tall, proud, with broad shoulders—though his silver masque revealed a petulant lip and his strength of personality paled in comparison to the Queen. For him, the Khazar woman felt only pity before dismissing him from her mind.

Orange light flared bright against the wall and Shirin faded into deeper shadow. Penelope was already gone, the sound of running feet fading in the tunnel. Halfway up the steps, Shirin paused, looking back into the tomb, wondering if a familiar figure would appear, silhouetted in the light. Instead, a man appeared in the broken door, leading with a long straight sword. The metal flared bright in the darkness and Shirin drew back again.

At her breast, the ruby became suddenly warm and she clasped a hand over the jewel, hiding an unexpected pale red glow. Entirely surprised, Shirin ducked down behind a fallen column, wondering what could possibly have excited such a response in the jewel. Where did Thyatis get this thing?

The Roman soldier crept forward, torch sputtering in one hand. 'There are two coffins here,' he shouted, 'and they've been disturbed!'

—|—

The scrape of a sandal on stone registered in the periphery of Thyatis' attention and she spun left, blade rising into guard, even as a hurled spear flashed past. One of the fellaheen staggered, the iron head driven between his shoulder blades with a slapping sound. The man barely had time to cry out in pain before blood flooded his mouth and he was on his hands and knees, shuddering with death tremors.

'Ware!' Thyatis shouted, the tip of her sword flickering in the air. Another spear point lunged out of shadow and was deftly knocked aside. 'To me, Romans! To me!' She bounded forward, snatching a dagger from its sheath on her belt with her free hand.

Men rushed around the toppled slab, curly beards gleaming in the light of fallen torches. One of them, towering a head above the others, leapt into Thyatis' path. For a single, frozen second she thought dead Chrosoes had returned to life—so closely did the bareheaded man swinging a spiked mace at her face resemble the King of Kings. She leaned aside, the mace blurring past, and lunged. The tip of her sword sparked from the man's breastplate, then skittered to one side. He jumped back, slapping her thrust aside with his own blade. They circled, the world narrowing down to the scrape and rustle of feet on stone, mirror-bright metal cutting the air, harsh breathing filling their ears.

Beyond the Persian's shoulder, Thyatis caught a glimpse of Mithridates swinging his pry bar over his head