Tomb of the Mechanical Pharaoh

Chapter 16

Hawk sat by the airship window, watching the golden ribbon that was the Nile pass beneath them. Despite the fact it had been two months since Inundation, the flooding had not yet subsided. The river would drop back to its normal level soon enough. I've been here long enough to know the rhythms of the river, he told himself. Hawk wondered if he would ever see his homeland again. He looked at himself, wearing a blue cavalryman jacket, and the shirt and pants of westernized Egyptian. Would the Sioux even recognize me? Do I recognize myself? Neither Egyptian nor Lakota.

"You seem lost in thought." Hawk looked up and saw Mr. Crocodile standing over him.

"My place in the world, I find myself wondering about it," Hawk said.

"We all do from time to time," Mr. Crocodile said. "You are aware of Murat or Me, what Westerners often call Maat?"

"Yes," Hawk said. "It has similarities with my people's concept of Skan, or motion of the universe."

"Most people have a concept of the way of the universe." Mr. Crocodile laughed. "That the English do not is most telling." The smile faded. "We do not always understand it, but that does not stop it. 'Maat is good and its worth is lasting. It has not been disturbed since the day of its creator. It lies as a path in front even of him who knows nothing.'"

"Ptahhotep," Hawk said.

Mr. Crocodile nodded. "He was one of our greatest philosophers."

They flew on in silence as Hawk looked out the window. The city of Crocodilopolis sprawling out below them and a few villages beyond. "And here we are," Mr. Crocodile said. "I must go to the temple of Sabik and then will see you later."

"After a while, Crocodile," Hawk said. Mr. Crocodile made no response.

***

Hawk disembarked with Tori, Rebecca, and the Professor into the nearly abandoned airport. "Where is everyone?" Rebecca asked.

"The heat," Tori said. "No one is out this time of day if they can help it."

"We shall make our way to the dig site, although it's too hot to do much digging now anyway," the Professor said. "Assuming we can find our ride."

It was not long before they came around a corner to see a young man lounging in one of the chairs. Hawk noted he was dressed in the style of the western desert peoples, with a pair of pistols hanging from his belt. At the sight of them, he jumped to his feet. "Professor Wallis!"

"It seems our ride is here. Azul, Afaddis!"

"Azul, felawen," Afaddis said with a slight bow of his head.

The professor clapped the young man on the shoulder. "Lead the way, Afaddis, my good man."

"An Amshawish Berber," Tori mumbled to herself. Hawk noticed that her voice seemed a bit on edge. They followed the young man out into the midday heat. A short distance away was a waiting steamcar. It was a curious looking thing, barely resembling the vehicles that crowded the city streets. This one sat on huge bulbous tires while the body, if it could so be called seemed to be made of wicker, although Hawk noted the boiler in the back. They crowded in and Afaddis stoked the boiler before speeding off into the desert, sand flying in their wake.

Hawk had been in Egypt for many years now, but he had never seen land quite like this. The sand and hills reminded him of the Mako Sika, the Badlands of his childhood. But then no more than thirty feet away from where he sat, lay a massive lake with palm trees and acacias all around. It was like another world.

They rounded a corner and there was the Professor's makeshift camp. Little more than a collection of tents on the shore of the lake. In the center of it sat a large pavilion where the results of the excavation were stored. The steamcar came to a stop and several of the workmen gave them only a passing look, until a man emerged from the pavilion. He looked about Hawk's age, and his clothes indicated he was Amshawish as well. He cut an impressive figure in colorful Berber style with a pair of pearl-handled pistols stuck through his belt. At his side, on a leash was an Egyptian lynx, or caracal, with a silver collar.