Page 107

Well—perhaps the one thing he wanted more was to know that his sister and his friends were safe.

He pictured the pale oval of Ellie’s face, stark with a look of betrayal. The flash of hurt and anger in Sayyid’s brown eyes. The sight of Adam Bates on his knees, bruised and bleeding with his hands bound behind his back.

His stomach twisted again.

“Muzzazu…” Dawson muttered, breaking into Neil’s thoughts. “Muzzazu, muzzazu… Why aren’t any of these words where they are supposed to be in the dictionary?”

The professor’s tones were laced with frustration.

“Probably because of conjugations?” Neil offered lamely.

“Conjugations!” Dawson sniffed disapprovingly, then fixed Neil with a glare. “You really ought to start making yourself more useful—in as much as one can expect from a boy barely out of Cambridge.”

“I have a doctorate!” Neil protested, momentarily feeling the loss of his mustache… though admittedly, the facial hair hadn’t done much to help him look his age.

Dawson didn’t seem to hear him. “Check some of these other books, at the very least.” He flapped a dismissive hand at the pile of tomes on the desk. “You haven’t any notion of the very delicate politics involved in all of this. Matters have been tense since our last expedition went slightlyawry—due to circumstances entirely outside of our control, of course,” he added quickly. “However unjustly, we are still in something of a state of probation, as you had best remember.”

“Remember?” Neil echoed disbelievingly. “I’m… I’m locked in here with you. I haven’t the foggiest notion what you’re on about!”

“A footman, maybe?” Dawson mused, ignoring him, and then brightened. “Ah—here it is! Muzzazu. A tax collector.”

“It’s not talking about a tax collector!” Neil shot back, his patience breaking. “You’ve transcribed the bloody word wrong. That’s the symbol for ‘er,’ not ‘az.’ It’smuzzerru.”

Dawson blinked at him in surprise as though just realizing that Neil was actually speaking. “Hmm,” he grunted shortly, and then turned the page of his dictionary. “Ah.Muzzerru. Means ‘enemies.’”

Neil stifled the urge to groan. Had he actually just used his half-rate knowledge of Akkadian tohelpthe intolerable rotter translate the tablet? He shouldn’t be correcting Dawson’s transcriptions! He was supposed to be deciding whether to snatch the artifact from under Dawson’s nose and throw it out the window into the Nile… sentencing himself to certain and painful death in the process.

The queasiness threatened to return. Neil did not think he would be very good at dying. He certainly wouldn’t go about it with noble aplomb. He was far more likely to faint or melt into a sobbing puddle.

He supposed he could at least wait to see whether the threat posed by the tablet was genuine. He likely had a bit of time in which to manage that. For all his books, Dawson was an idiot when it came to ancient Semitic languages. Neil might not have Ellie’s skill, but if he had a quiet hour with a notepad and a few of Dawson’s books, he stood a solid chance of deciphering the text.

He just had to manage it without Dawson catching on. Then he could decide if the artifact was a harmless if fascinating New Kingdom relic… or something worth dying for.

Unfortunately, Neil was incapable of working through the Akkadian without writing it all down—which even a dolt like Dawson couldn’t help but notice.

He glanced over at what Dawson had so far scribbled into his notebook.

And this is the will of Moseh, that his legacy, the gift of Neferneferuaten, be not misused, or fallen into the hands of enemies…

Those words—gift of Neferneferuaten—echoed uncomfortably through Neil’s mind.

The inscription in Mutnedjmet’s jewelry box—found with a ring engraved with the name of Moseh—had claimed Neferneferuaten was the last bearer of the Was-Scepter of Khemenu.

The Bible was not at all ambiguous about the fact that Moses had been raised as an Egyptian. If an Egyptian had wished to work some great magic on the world, Neil had little doubt that a was-scepter was precisely the ritual object he would use to do it.

All of which meant that Neil was finding it increasingly plausible that thegift of Neferneferuatenmight actually be the legendary staff of one of history’s most important prophets.

“Look here!” Dawson said excitedly, oblivious to Neil’s wretched state beside him. “Isn’t this the logogram for tomb?”

Neil kept his mouth closed, anticipating what must come next with a rising sense of dread.

“The tomb at… What is that word? Nab… Nab?û. Nab?û, nab?û…” Dawson mused, flipping through the pages of his books. “Ah! There it is—horizon. The tomb at the horizon… of… the… sun.”He turned to Neil with a superior smirk. “Don’t feel too bad about not figuring it out first. I have had several more years’ experience to bring to bear on the translation. I was tenured at St. Andrews, you know.”

Neil knew. Dawson had mentioned it four or five times since he had been locked into this room.

“Horizon of the sun…” Dawson mused thoughtfully. “It must mean somewhere in the west.”

Neil went still. Was it possible that Professor Formerly-Tenured-at-Saint-Andrews didn’t realize the connection betweenHorizon of the Sunand Akhenaten’s former capital city at Tell al-Amarna?