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By Root 1058 0

out of the sidecar to unload some equipment, and I recall him complaining of the demands one of his many women was making on him. At the time, if I can keep them clear, he was balancing a French singer in Cairo and a Russian countess in Alexandria, and more of the local copper-skinned beauties than can be counted, and one of these alluring women of brushed gold had been demanding that Marlowe read the Koran and convert to Mohammedanism and become her husband, a notion that made him laugh so hard he bit his tongue and then cursed and held a handkerchief to his bleeding mouth. I was, I believe, likely telling him of my plans to refurbish Trilipush Hall after the War.

Soon we were at work, investigating Deir el Bahari, directly (if my map reading was correct) on the opposite side of the thick wall of cliffs from the fabled Valley of the Kings, just a few hills and dales further into the desert from Hat-shep-sut’s temple, and quite completely isolated from view from both of those sites. We were scarcely digging, merely scanning the ground and cliff face for glimmers of man-made interference. Were we looking for Atum-hadu? Well, yes, we were in that area (after previous, fruitless efforts wandering in and out of easily breached caves and holes) in the hopes of finding something to corroborate Harriman and Vassal, but we also would have denied we were looking for Atum-hadu; we were still not convinced he ever was. We only agreed that, if he had been, it was reasonable that his tomb would be hidden and near his capital (?) at Thebes (?). As the Valley of the Kings, the state-run necropolis, was inaugurated much later with Thothmes I, and as Harriman and Vassal had made their discoveries not far from each other, quite near where we stood, Deir el Bahari seemed the most promising place.

After some hours of slow walking in careful patterns, I spotted what seemed at first to be a smooth patch of sand to the far left of the path, as if all the finest grains had huddled together amidst their coarser brethren. This patch quickly revealed itself to be a smooth stone, and as Marlowe and I brushed at it, its size grew, as if it were the top of an emerging head and the very earth our loving, labouring wife. We brushed until we had a perfect stone circle, approximately two feet in diameter. The heat was extreme, and Marlowe took a turn in the shade, sipping at the water, shielding his eyes to keep a keener lookout, for it is human nature that at a moment such as this, one grows quiet and suspicious. I began gently probing the area around the stone with the deliberation that is our art’s watchword, dull of course to anyone who does not understand the potentially catastrophic costs of hurry. It is precisely this hypnotising rhythm that makes a discovery such a release of emotion, comparable to only one or two other experiences in a man’s life.

Some time later, after several changes, it was again my turn to dig, and I brought to the surface a cylindrical jar, the blank top of which I had noticed some hours earlier. I placed the jar on the earth between us, and we simply stared at it before Marlowe dared to lift the lid. Which is when we heard horses’ hooves and, a moment later, a shot ringing out. Marlowe dropped the lid, smashing it beyond repair, and reached for his Webley. I reached inside the jar and withdrew a bulky papyrus, cursing that no measure of protection could yet be taken for it, and I placed it as gently as I could (more gunfire now) under my shirt, between my belly and my belt. “Get that out of here, my dear friend. It matters more than our skins,” Marlowe said with elegant calm, and before I could stop him, he was moving up the path, away from the motorcycle, firing haphazardly, making himself occasionally visible, drawing, in short, the four horsemen (bandits, German agents, we did not know) towards the west while my exit to the east was freed. “Go! I’ll find my way out of this, old fellow. You can count on it.” I ran towards the motorcycle. I carried Atum-hadu Admonitions Fragment C snugly at my waist.

I circled the ’cycle