physical form is dead to take residence in a living body whose soul had been-compromised. However, such intimate physical possession is rare. I’ve studied the literature, and there are only half a dozen cases, all poorly documented. However, there is something they all agree on. The spirit of that dead person cannot take possession of the body of someone of the opposite sex.”
“So it isn’t King Narmer,” Rush said, with evident relief.
“Not if what I’m postulating is really the case here.”
Rush nodded slowly. “You mentioned two reasons.”
“I’ve mentioned the other before. Recall that the primary purpose of burying a pharaoh in his tomb is to facilitate his journey to the next world. With no actual mummy, the ka — the spiritual essence-would have no place to go and would remain restless, basically haunting the tomb forever. But with a physical body-such as Narmer has in the tomb-his ka could make the journey through the underworld with his ba, which is the part of the soul more mobile and able to travel. Everything we’ve seen in the tomb has served to prepare Narmer, to make the journey successful.”
“And since we found Narmer’s mummy intact, that means his ka would no longer be here,” Rush said.
“So it would seem.”
“But if it isn’t King Narmer”-Rush hesitated-“then who have we been communicating with?”
Logan didn’t answer.
44
At two in the morning, the Station slept restlessly under a bloated yellow moon. A few technicians were at work in Operations, preparing for the morning’s mission to break the final seals and pass the third gate; guards were stationed at the Maw, at the base of the Umbilicus, and at the communications center. Otherwise, all was quiet.
A lone figure strode down the deserted corridors of Red. Dressed in a white lab coat, it looked much like the many others who inhabited the science labs during the day. Only its movements were different. It was wary, almost stealthy; it hesitated at each intersection, satisfying itself it was entirely alone before proceeding.
The figure drew up to the main door of the archaeology lab. It was locked, but the figure had long before procured a skeleton key and opened the door with silent fingers. It glanced down the hallway again, paused a moment to listen, then slipped inside and closed the door quietly behind.
Without turning on the lights, it slipped through the rooms full of lab tables, artifact lockers, and preservation and curatorial equipment, until it reached the storage facility at the rear of the laboratory. The figure opened the heavy door and stepped into the chill interior. Only now did it switch on a small flashlight. The beam licked over the surfaces of the small room, coming to rest at last on a wall containing a half-dozen large drawers, like the corpse lockers of a morgue.
More quickly now, the figure came forward, slid the fingers of one hand down the drawers, then seized the handle of one and-as quietly as possible-drew it out. The smell of the room, dust and mold and chemicals and the faint rot of the swamp outside-became freighted with another smell: the smell of death.
Inside the locker lay the mummy of King Narmer.
The figure drew the locker out to its full length. It shone the flashlight beam over the pharaoh’s corpse. It was remarkably well preserved for its five-thousand-year entombment. Remarkable, too, how the mummy had been wrapped, or-indeed-that it had been wrapped at all: such a mummy would not be seen again until perhaps the New Kingdom, a millennium and a half later. Amazing, how much had been forgotten-and relearned, much later-more than a thousand years after Narmer’s death. Was this in part because of the pains the pharaoh had taken to delude all by creating a false tomb; by having his corpse buried at such a distance from his own lands?
At the moment, however, the figure was not interested in theoretical questions. It was interested in the mummy’s bandages-and what they contained.
The mummy’s body cloth had been removed and the linen wrappings were now exposed, glistening faintly with ancient unguent. The figure reached into the pockets of the lab coat and removed several evidence bags and a heavy scalpel. Working quickly, it cut away the bands that fixed the papyrus scroll-with its spells for a safe passage through the underworld-from the mummy’s hands and placed the papyrus aside. It then cut the black scarab lying on the mummy’s chest-placed over the heart and inscribed with its own magical spells-away from its golden necklace and placed both necklace and scarab into one of the evidence bags. Next, the figure began removing the individual strips of linen wrapped around the mummy’s fingers. As it did so, artifacts began coming to light: golden rings, gems, and beads, all winking dully in the gleam of the flashlight.
The figure laughed delightedly under its breath at these finds and quickly slipped them into the evidence bag.
Now it moved toward the mummy’s head and-working even more quickly-freed the outermost bandage from its resin bonds and began unwrapping it. More items appeared: a falcon collar fashioned out of gold, another of faience. These, like everything else secreted within the mummy’s bandages, were meant as magical protections to help speed the king from this world to the next. Tearing them roughly away from the bandages, the figure placed them in the evidence bag. After all these years, they were still thickly smeared with unguent-a different type of unguent, it seemed, than that which protected the mummy’s outer wraps. No doubt some primitive preservative, lacking the refined preparation of later dynasties.
The figure continued unwrapping the head bandages. More objects appeared: a resin scarab, a beautiful diadem inlaid with gems. Both went into the bag.
The first evidence bag was full now, and the figure sealed it and placed it back into the pocket of the lab coat. Time was critical, and the intruder dared not dally much longer. Already it had harvested a dozen items from within the mummy’s wrappings-a dozen more and it would leave.
It moved back down to the mummy’s chest. A painting of Osiris had still been faintly visible on the body cloth-given such a wildly anachronistic find, was it possible the pharaoh’s crook and flail might also lie buried beneath the layers of linen? If so, it would be a princely discovery indeed.
The intruder picked up the scalpel-fingers now sticky with unguent, its movements feeling a little heavy and slow-and, no longer showing the least reverence for the long-departed king, sliced deeply into the wrappings that covered the chest. The smell of death grew stronger. Immediately, twinklings of gold peeped out through the cut layers of bandages. The figure identified a dagger, a golden chain, several protective amulets of the most ornate design. And-what was that, barely visible beneath the lowest layers of bandages? Was it possible, remotely possible, it was a large, golden ba — bird, its wings studded with countless gemstones…?
Working feverishly now, the figure dug into the bandages, feeling around, plucking out the amulets one after another and depositing them in the second bag. These, too, were thickly smeared with a primitive unguent, the color of earth-disgusting, but there would be plenty of time to clean up later.
The figure wiped its hands together, wiped the stickiness off onto its lab coat. Then, picking up the scalpel again, it bent over the mummy, preparing to slice away the final bandages.
But wait… something was wrong. What was this strange sensation of prickly heat that seemed to rise from within? What was this horrible smell-of sulfur, or something worse, that grew and grew until it filled the entire room?
The figure stepped back in alarm. But even as it did so, the feeling of heat turned to one of flame, of roiling smoke. The figure opened its mouth to gasp-but the gasp turned into an escalating shriek, rising in pitch and volume, as the pain quickly spread, wrapping the tomb robber in a vise of intolerable pain.
45
This time, when Jeremy Logan descended to the air lock platform at the bottom of the Umbilicus, it was so crowded there was almost no room for him to stand. He counted ten others, including Tina Romero, Ethan Rush, Stone, Valentino-in person, for a change-two of March’s archaeologists, two roustabouts, and two security guards.
