Ghosts of Karnak by George Mann Page B

more gold than she’d ever seen, or could have possibly imagined. It had been beaten into sheets and affixed to the walls of the tomb, then engraved with row upon intricate row of hieroglyphs. It seemed to absorb the light, taking on a warm, radiant glow. Amaury held the torch aloft, stepping further into the room. Even the ceiling had been paneled in the stuff.
    Ginny was breathless, unable to speak. She realized she had raised both hands to her mouth in shock. “It’s… oh,
thank you
, Jacques,” she managed to stammer. “It’s magnificent.”
    “I knew you’d love it.” He laughed. “Better than the pyramids, no?”
    “Oh yes,” agreed Ginny.
    “No one has walked in this tomb for over three thousand years,” he said, “aside from you, Landsworth, Fabrice and I.”
    “I don’t know what to say,” said Ginny. “What does it all mean?”
    “It’s the story of Sekhmet,” said Amaury. “She is the daughter of the sun, and a goddess of war and might.” He pointed to a large image of a lion-headed woman on the far wall. Her arms were outstretched, and she was basking in the rays of the sun. “That’s her, there.”
    “So the person who’s buried here is paying tribute to Sekhmet?”
    “The person buried here
is
Sekhmet,” said Amaury. He met Ginny’s gaze. “At least according to local legend. Her astral form still walks in the underworld, of course, but her avatar was buried here, to rest in the sands for eternity.”
    “And you believe that?” said Ginny.
    Amaury shrugged. “I believe it’s the find of a lifetime,” he said. He pointed with the torch to a small opening in the wall. “There’s more, through there.”
    Ginny stepped aside to allow him to pass.
    The adjoining chamber was not lined in gold, but was brimming with funeral goods: a glorious chariot, so well preserved that it looked as if it might still be ridden into war; neat rows of Canopic jars; effigies of Horus and Osiris; a bed, a chair; a box overflowing with jewelry and tributes. The walls here, too, were covered in hieroglyphs, painted this time, and beginning to flake away. She could see they charted the journey of a soul through the afterlife, as it passed through the physical world and onwards into the fields of the dead.
    A passageway stemmed from here, leading deeper underground, and Amaury seemed anxious to show her. Ginny had to duck her head beneath the lintel of the doorway, and hunch over as the passage narrowed and dipped.
    “It’s a bit of a squeeze,” said Amaury, from up ahead, “but it’s worth it.” She could hear his ragged breath in the confined space, and the stench of the burning pitch was almost overpowering. Nevertheless, she pressed on, anxious not to miss anything.
    The passage opened out a moment later into a third chamber, and once again, Amaury was proved right. Here, a statue of the lion-faced Sekhmet presided over what could only be described as a stone table—although the top of it was concaved, like a large dish, and adorned with a headrest. The statue had its hands spread above the table, as if bestowing some absent figure with its blessing.
    “This is as far as we’ve excavated so far,” said Amaury. “There are more rooms branching off from that passageway. We’ll open them up soon.”
    “It’s fascinating,” said Ginny. “Is this where they prepared the body?” She crossed to the table, running her hands over it. It had been chiseled from stone, but was exquisitely smooth and cool beneath her fingertips.
    “We’re not entirely sure,” said Amaury. “We believe it’s where the Egyptians thought Sekhmet would raise a new avatar. The layout of the tomb is unlike anything we’ve ever seen. It’s almost as if it’s been built to a specific plan, as if they thought the alignment might somehow bring her power.”
    “And the body,” said Ginny. “Where’s that? I didn’t see a coffin.”
    “We haven’t found one yet,” said Amaury. “It may be behind one of