Twenty-five Years Later:
The City of Amarna
Reign of Horemheb: Year Thirteen
The cliffs loomed oppressive as the memory of fevered dreams, more ominous for what they hid than for their aspect. The afternoon sun that had transformed them into a landscape of beaten brass had stolen every breath of coolness from the wind that constantly whistled through the twisted, narrow valleys.. The day was drawing toward its close; flecks of white at the far eastern edge of the sky served as reminders of the presence of the stars.
He shivered again. He had forgotten the nighttime, the wind and the moonlight over the past twenty-five years as a conqueror forgets the wars that he has fought. But the strife was in his mind once more, the memory of the moonlight, the wind, and the darkness combining terribly with the reality of the whine and thud of arrows fletched by a long-forgotten hand, bearing messages written by one who had been in his grave, swathed in linen and sheeted in rock, for over twenty years. There had to be a trick. His hands shaking with fear and fury, he read the message and then crumpled the papyrus and flung it away from him. It broke and scattered into dry, light flakes that caught a swirl of wind and spun away down the cliff.
The rising tide of hot, bitter anger braced him; he growled a curse and strode to the edge of the cliff to glare down at the city, blinking away the shadows of his memories and forcing himself to see the city for the decayed heap of mud-brick and stone rubble that it really was. Wrecked, ruined, decayed - and nevertheless a rich mine for those who knew how to work it properly.
Sometimes the greatest profit is found in death, he thought, and it made him smile. His fingers smoothed the heavy curve of his armlet in a motion that was meaningless after years of repetition. He was a fool to let himself be frightened by the shadows of past deeds.
The sound of hurrying feet turned his thoughts from death, treachery and profit. His mouth tightened in an angry smile and he stared down along the path leading across the cliff face. The path wound back and forth up the face of the cliff from the quarry opening, switching back three times before reaching the top. As he had thought, the lad was coming toward him. He folded his arms and waited as the young man negotiated the final turn and then paused breathlessly on the slight ledge below him. "Well?" he said.
"It's done, Father," the young man said. "Everything has been put in place near the city, and it'll be ready to go at a moment's notice."
The older man nodded. "Good," he said. But then he frowned. "And the quarry?" he asked.
"Oh yes," said the younger man. "If the priesthood of Ptah is coming to Amarna to dig, then well and good: they'll find they've dug up more than they bargained for."
The words made a shiver trail upward along the man's spine, but he nodded. "I just hope you did it right," he said.
"We dug good and deep, never fear," the younger man said. He smiled and repeated it, "Good and deep." When the older man remained silent he said, "I went into the city this morning."
The older man's brows drew together.
"Yes," said the younger man. "Into its very heart, where the grand houses are. I discussed that with our friend in Memphis during my visit a month ago. He insisted I look and report to him. Well, I looked, and I saw. There's more gold there than you remember, Father! Wealth enough for all of us to live in ease forever. If you'll come with me this moment I can show you!"
"No!" said the older man.
"If you'd only hear me out. It's on the walls, it only needs to be pried loose."
"No!" he said again. A flash of lighter color against the cliff caught the older man's eye; a papyrus fragment pinned to the rock by the wind. The sight made the breath catch in the back of his throat as he thought once more of deep-buried, perilous things, long hidden in the darkness, brought back terribly to life by those who dug too deeply in the debris of the past.
But then he shook the thought from him and took the three steps that brought him out overlooking the city. Gold, his son had said. Gold for the taking, gold to make them all wealthier even than they were at that moment. It only needed to be taken from the walls. But by others, not by him. Never by him.