Cursed Times - Only Yesterday! Sequel to Wattys 2015 winner!

Chapter 27 - Seisi: Tomb Raiders

In a way, it was outrageous. His friend, his high priest, wanted him to steal from the dead. On the other hand, Seisi felt excitement creeping up inside, the heat of the chase, the tickle of danger.

It made him feel guilty. But not for long.

Strictly speaking, they could not be called tomb raiders; what they were after was part of a collection stolen by others a long time ago. As far as he understood, the loot had been confiscated and stored away for protection. The sheer thought of rifling through the goods intended only for the deceased went against many of his ingrained beliefs. On the other hand, he had been engaged in so many illegal exploits recently and had yet to suffer consequences other than those which afflicted his health.

Seisi pushed aside his thoughts and focussed on his environment.

Together with Metjen and Trueth he was loitering next to a side entrance to the building the other two called a museum while Metjen was agonizing over the best way of gaining access. Nighttime traffic rushed around the circle of roads in the big square behind them; the square the descendants of his people had named 'Al Tahrir'. The many lights of the restless metropolis illuminated houses and open spaces alike. The museum itself was glowing with lights all over, like a temple during the festivities. Only their side of the building was plunged in damp shadows after Metjen had mind-spread the wings of Nut and the lamps had combusted with fiery sparks.

'Can you get a move on, sunshine?' Trueth said. 'I'm cold, and this place isn't exactly a bed of roses.'

Her observation was accurate. A faint scent of metal and cardamom lingered, mingling with the oily stink of chariot fumes, the acrid sharpness of the fog which was blurring all contours as well as the smelly gifts left behind by people caught short. Before the lights had gone out, Seisi had also noticed containers, sacks and heaps of rubble next to the door.

His memories of the previous evening invaded his thoughts again. 

'They are clearing out the cellars,' the professor had explained back at the mansion. 'It's now or never. Only some of the walking sticks of Pharaoh Tutankhamun are displayed with the rest. What you described, Metjen, doesn't resemble those exhibits in the slightest. The other material from Carter's excavation is still in the original crates, and they are in the basement. It's all in shambles down there, even without any interference from Iseret.'

After that point, his recollection of events got a bit hazy. Seisi remembered exploding wine bottles, Metjen starting an argument with his shadow, an upset professor and his majesty wielding a scimitar he seemed to have smuggled in one of the boxes.

The Lady Nefertiti had calmed things down, reassuring the king nobody was planning to rob any tombs, royal or otherwise. He would never be asked to participate in any holy exploits led by his wisdom, instead he would be visiting the final resting place of his sire in the company of the professor. She had called him the Lord Hanis, of course.

'I hope you find what you are looking for.' Metjen's father said when sniffing the cork of a fresh bottle of wine. 'If not, we'll have go to the UK to check out the Carter family heirlooms. It's quite likely good old Howard sneaked out a few bits and bobs for himself. Nobody would miss a walking stick.'

Seisi was jolted back into the present when Metjen rattled the keys he had been given by his father. The professor had lost all his privileges when he fell out with his overlord at the house of learning but seemed to have held on not only to his dignity but also his tools.

'Let's hope these work.'

'Can't you just shift your pretty patootie through that wall?' Trueth asked.