Doctor Who_ Set Piece - Kate Orman [30]
Even in her century the history books tended to be long, boring descrip-tions of battles and wars, lists of dates that didn’t tell you much about the people who had lived and breathed in those times. To the average peasant, it probably didn’t make a sou of difference who the Emperor was.
Denon had been intrigued by the bizarre, ragged woman who had turned up on his doorstep. He wasn’t impressed by her knowledge of Egypt – he was astonished by it. French education was full of the details of Ancient Greece and Rome, but Egypt was still a mystery, its language untranslated and its monuments standing unnoticed in the sun.
Napoleon had set up the Egyptian Institute in a palace in Cairo, wanting everything in the newly conquered land measured, catalogued sketched. Denon 57
was just one of the team, gathering the details and illustrations that would eventually become Voyage de la Basse et la Haute Egypte. When he was done here he would go on to help Napoleon pinch European art treasures to stock the Louvre. He was taking everything in his stride, which wasn’t too surprising for a chap who’d been sent on secret missions for the Emperor and had cheated Madame Guillotine.
Benny felt herself drifting off into sleep. Her salary was good, her belly was full and she had managed to become part of the very invention of archaeology.
She could not have asked for a softer landing.
The Vortex had flung the three of them in entirely random directions. They could have exited anywhere, in empty space, in the far future or the distant past. The Doctor had been beyond help, she told herself for the thousandth time; it didn’t matter where he landed. But Ace – Benny had a pretty good idea of where Ace had ended up.
She dipped into her mind again, dredging up the jarring memory. An Academy classroom, a lecturer’s soft drone, a hologram of the Amarna cliffs.
Vivant popped his head under the canvas. She could read him like a book; the nobly restrained interest. ‘We should arrive later this afternoon,’ he said.
‘And then we can begin the business of locating this Egyptian mystery of yours.’
Benny nodded. ‘There’s such a huge area to search. But I’m guessing that some of the locals will know exactly what we’re after.’
‘A three thousand year old sentence written in English?’ laughed Vivant. ‘I would imagine someone would have noticed by now!’
Benny frowned again. The Amarna Graffito was a famous archaeological puzzle, still much-discussed in her century. The thing was, there was something strange about that classroom memory. As though she had dreamed it.
Or as though it hadn’t been there before.
Kadiatu got through four courses and a bottle of red wine while the Doctor slowly ate a bowl of vichyssoise. Her gens de maison hovered anxiously.
The maids were country girls, healthy and muscled, who stamped across the waxed floors in and out of the dining room. As much as they resented being in the service of a Noire, they were grateful for a mild employer – even one who decided to have dîner in the middle of the night. But the Doctor’s abrupt resurrection had unnerved them.
Kadiatu had dressed for dinner, which took half an hour, even with her chambermaid’s assistance. One of the servants brought the Doctor a jumble of clothes – frock coats, hats, laced boots and fashionable French shirts. He had long since lost his taste for frills. He ended up in a slightly oversized shirt and trousers, a long black coat and a white scarf, reminding the servant girls of practical relatives on Bourbonnaise farms.
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‘You could’ve just erased it all,’ she said, watching him spread butter on a white bread roll. ‘You erased everything in the Stone Mountain archives, which was where I got my information in the first place. You had the chance to destroy my work as well.’
‘I was curious.’
‘Curious,’ snorted Kadiatu. ‘I destroyed it myself on my way out. The human race wasn’t ready for time