Song of Isis Read online

  "It's okay. I just want to talk to you."

  The girl said nothing.

  Alex wondered briefly if they--whoever they were--had instructed the girl not to speak. But, why would they have left her here in the first place if they were afraid she'd blab their little secrets?

  Alex crept another cautious step forward. The girl tensed but otherwise didn't move. It was then Alex noticed the girl's breasts were bare. Well, not bare exactly. She wore a homely brown sheath made of some rough, crudely woven material, but it ended just below the small swell of her cleavage. Another piece of this same fabric, so threadbare it was almost non-existent, hung around her neck. This, she clutched to her body like a security blanket, knuckles white as bone. Whether she feared Alex or the people who'd abandoned them here, Alex was sure of one thing--the girl wasn't acting.

  Alex opened her hands, holding them up for the young woman's inspection. No hidden weapons.

  "My name is Alex," she said in English. The dark brows drew together. No wonder they weren't afraid she'd talk; she didn't speak a word of English! "Parle vous Francais?"

  The girl cocked her head to one side, baffled.

  "I didn't think so."

  Alex tried a few words of Arabic, Latin, and Greek only to get the same reaction. "Great. Just great!"

  She paced the room.

  "Alex," she repeated with a touch to her chest. The girl just continued to watch her with that wide, uncomprehending stare. "Name," Alex leaned forward, whispering in faulty ancient Egyptian. The girl's eyes brightened, masking her fear. Her dark brows shot up and a smile lit her features.

  "Seta," she said, laying a hand on her own chest.

  Alex grinned. "Alex--" she pointed from herself to her companion--"Seta."

  Seta beamed, nodding enthusiastically. "Seta," she repeated the gesture, "Alec."

  "Yes! Yes!"

  WHO WAS this stubborn creature who had invaded his world? She stung like a viper and yet the warmth of her skin, the delicate features of her face, and the sun-ripened fullness of her lips beckoned to him. The scent of her filled him with desire. Pharaoh did not need another slave in his harem. Tarik could simply take her for himself. Who would know?

  No doubt, his house mistress was directly behind him silently enjoying his dilemma. He usually left the handling of servants to her, but this woman was different, so very different. "Nafari?"

  She set down a basket filled with breads and figs. "My lord," she replied in a tone of voice that told him she was not amused by his find. "What is this you have brought to me? She will not do my bidding. The sun will surely shrivel her tender skin."

  Tarik placed his hand on Nafari's shoulder. "No, woman. This one is a gift. For Pharaoh. You must prepare her for his court and instruct her in our language, our ways, our gods."

  "Master, you ask too much."

  He turned and circled the woman. "Nafari, ready her for pharaoh's court. I do not have patience for this task. You have a fortnight."

  Tarik turned and strode down the hallway. He called back. "The new one with the lamp, what is her name?"

  Nafari slanted a glance at him. "You mean the young Nubian, Lord? Her name is Seta, Master. She is from the lower regions."

  "Nubian." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Good, she seems timid enough. Leave her with the fair-skinned one. This Seta may prove salve for our fair scorpion's sting," Tarik said with a smile and turned on his heel.

  THE GIRL HAD understood what she'd said. Ancient Egyptian. A language no one had ever heard spoken. Alex searched her memory. "The words had no vowels," she murmured, "All I have to do is add the lost vowels to make it phonetic."

  Alex's head whirled. Confusing and nonsensical thoughts flashed through her mind. It was all so absurd, unreal, impossible. A shiver tickled the base of her neck and she wrapped her arms around her knees. This couldn't be happening. How had she traveled through time to this place? Alex held her throbbing head in her hands. "Where? What? How?"

  Seta rose from her corner, limped to the bed-like structure and pulled off the cover. Hesitantly, shyly, and with bowed head she offered it to Alex.

  "Thanks. Just what I need in the middle of God-knows-where. You wouldn't happen to have the keys to the family car, would you?"

  "C-a-a-r," Seta repeated quizzically, raising an eyebrow and hobbling even closer.

  "Wait, you're hurt!"

  Seta shrank back. Alex motioned for the girl to come closer. "I'm a doctor. Damn! What's the word for physician?" Alex wracked her memory for the words. "Sin...no, Sinw." The girl's eyes brightened. "Yes, that's it. Sinw, Sinw." She gestured at her chest and at Seta's ankle.

  The girl threw up her hands and pointed toward the door--"Sinw--Sinw--Tarik aaiu Sinw."

  "Well, well, well. This changes things." Alex folded her arms across her chest. The meaning was clear to her. "Tarik great physician." Her captor was a physician, a doctor, a healer. No way. Yet, Seta kept repeating her chant and bowing her head pointing toward the door.

  He was no modern day physician holed up in a backwoods, third-world country without some rudimentary knowledge of English, French, or even Arabic--she'd tried them all. Could she somehow be in an Egyptian cult? A cult where everyone acted like ancient Egyptians? No. This was insane. Fear caught in her throat. Had she somehow been transported to this place? The thought was too horrible, too unbelievable, too absurd. She was really out of place.

  "No! It couldn't be."

  Her words startled Seta who, over the past hour or so, had conquered her fear and moved closer. She shrank back, wide-eyed and trembling. What did the girl have to be afraid of? It was Alex who should be shrinking and trembling. In fact, she was. Her insides felt as if they'd been put through a blender and beads of cold sweat dotted her forehead. They were captives in a pagan land and both might be executed, or worse. But, she was a physician. At least she could take her mind off her predicament by taking a look at Seta's foot.

  Alex tried a shaky smile and softly repeated, "Seta...Sinw ...Sinw," in hopes of calming the girl. Alex crouched down and cupped Seta's ankle in her hand. From the swelling and cantor of the foot, she'd broken it some time ago and it had healed wrong. Anger flashed through her.

  If this Tarik was such a great physician, why hadn't he cast it appropriately? Maybe the break had occurred before Seta had joined his little harem. Alex smiled at Seta and took a cloth and tore it into long, even strips. "This will help a little, but it has to be rebroken. Until I find some anesthetic, this will have to do."

  She worked diligently, grateful to get her mind on something else, until Seta's entire leg was bandaged tightly. She whimpered a bit at first, but took Alex's ministrations in stride and smiled upon inspection of her brightly colored leg. "Alec aaiu sinw."

  Lost in troubling thoughts of her own, Alex paid no attention. How had all this happened? She traced her steps back to the tomb's secret chamber. What had she been doing when the earthquake happened? What? Nothing more than gazing around the room. Singing. Reading.

  "That's it!"

  She'd been reading--No, singing the strange words on the scroll. "The papyrus! I've got to get back to the tomb."

  Finally, she had something to go on. If the man really was a physician, and if she could convince him they had something in common, he might take her there, himself. A sinking sensation filled her with dread. And just what, did she think, were the chances of that?

  Time took on a surreal quality of sameness and shadows moved in slow motion with the sun. Alex prowled the edges of the room. She had to get out of this mess. A hot breeze stirred her hair. She glanced up at the shaft of bright sunlight streaming down from the rectangular openings cut high and out of reach on the wall.

  There had to be a way out of this place. She was a scientist for God's sake. She'd approach this the same way she did everything.

  First, gather the facts. She crossed her arms. Okay, she was somewhere in the middle of the Sahara desert, a captive of some arrogant, high-born physicia
n. And, even worse, she was lost in some sort of time warp two thousand years, give or take a few hundred, before the birth of Christ. Her heart labored against her chest. If that was true, it didn't matter if she escaped. There was no place to escape to. This wasn't her world. For all intents and purposes, she was an alien marooned on a strange planet with no hope of phoning home. A fine sheen of perspiration broke out on her upper lip and the surrounding air closed in on her. She shook her head to clear it. She had to stop this. What good did it do to panic--it wouldn't change anything.

  Alex took several cleansing breaths and stretched her arms over her head. The best thing she could do was to continue her analysis. What was next? Oh, yes. Form a hypothesis. Now, that was the hard part. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair and retraced her steps around the room. If she could only understand what had really happened, maybe....

  Seta squatted in the center of Alex's perimeter and munched on a small, round loaf of bread she took from the basket the woman had brought in. Her wide-eyed gaze followed Alex's every move.

  A hypothesis? All right. If the tomb had something to do with her descent into the past, then returning to the point of origin would be necessary.

  If she could get back to the tomb, maybe she could somehow figure out what had happened and reverse the process. But how, without analyzing every action up to the point of the earthquake? What if there hadn't even been an earthquake? Just a massive warp?

  That was all well and good. It still didn't tell her how to reverse the process. She would have to find a way to test the hypothesis. And there was only one way to do that. Escape as soon as possible. But how? Alex glanced at Seta. If only she'd help.

  "Seta." The girl's dark eyes widened and she stopped chewing. Alex stumbled on the words, speaking in halting sentences and making wide gestures. "I need help to leave room."

  Seta dropped the bread and shook her head. "Forbidden."

  Alex leaned down and gripped Seta's shoulders. "Show me. I go alone."

  Seta continued shaking her head. "Forbidden. Sinw punish."

  "What punish?"

  Seta wrapped her arms around her knees, and rocked back and forth shaking her head. "Lock away."

  What did she mean by that? Banishment? Imprisonment? She hadn't read much about the punishment of slaves. From what she remembered, the Egyptians were a particularly benevolent people. Although, from her experience with the arrogant Dr. Tarik, that was probably a myth, also. But to be locked away?

  "How, Seta? Say to me."

  "Place to stay for long time." Her voice shook with obvious fear.

  "Prison?"

  Seta nodded and ran her hand along her bandaged leg. "You great physician. Healer." She flashed a nervous smile and tapped her chest. "I help."

  "Yes!" Alex plopped down on the bed. "Yes. Now I can proceed to the third phase." Testing the hypothesis.

  The bed was surprisingly comfortable and she stretched out her legs and cupped her hands behind her head. Across the foot was a small pile of neatly folded garments. She glanced down at her own stained and dirtied shorts. She'd be much safer if she blended in with the surroundings. She sat up and reached for the pile. Swinging her legs over the bed, she stood and held the garment against her. The simple shift would cover her from head to toe. Now this was style. She might not be making a fashion statement, but at least all her important parts, the ones she wanted hidden, would be modestly covered. Alex pulled off her blouse and shorts, deciding to keep her bra and panties. She slipped the linen sheath over her head. It was a bit on the baggy side, but comfortable and surprisingly cool. Seta picked up her discarded clothing and put them up to her cheek. "Soft."

  "Yes, but I can't escape wearing a neon sign."

  Seta slanted her a quizzical gaze. Positive there wasn't an Egyptian equivalent for neon Alex smiled, said nothing, and stuffed her clothes beneath the linen bedcovers.

  "Well, I guess there's nothing left to do but wait for darkness."

  Seta started to say something, shook her head, and took another bite of bread.

  "We'll wait for night."

  Seta nodded and offered a piece of bread to Alex. Realizing how hungry she really was, she tore off a large piece of the crusty confection and popped it into her mouth, amazed at how even a small amount of food calmed her nerves. Egyptian bread had always been one of her favorites and today they still made it the same way as in ancient Egypt. Today? There was no today, anymore. There was only now. And now was somewhere in eleventh dynasty Egypt.

  But it didn't matter, she had to get back to the tomb. That's where her nightmare had started. No. She'd wake up eventually, and when she did, it'd damn well better be in the twentieth century!

  ALEX STARTLED awake. Moonlight filtered in through the windows and bathed the room in a soft, hazy glow. She must have fallen asleep. How long until dawn? She should've kept better track of the time. But she'd left her watch back at her father's camp. Visiting the tomb had been a whim, a silly moment when she let curiosity overtake rational thought, a brief wrinkle in time for which she'd pay the rest of her life.

  Something warm and breathing huddled at her feet. Her heart staccatoed against her chest and she held her breath. Reaching out, she touched Seta's coarse curls. Relief flooded through her. "Seta? Seta? We must go now."

  She stood, but her knees refused to cooperate. Trying to maintain her balance, Alex reached out for anything that might stop her fall, but slammed against the door. She grabbed the handle and the door flew open. Tumbling into a dark hallway, she landed on her backside.

  "Open?" She glanced up at Seta. "God, I'm such an idiot! You mean to tell me the door was open this whole time?" Seta nodded, her wide eyes telegraphing fear.

  "Remember rule number one, Seta, always try the door," Alex whispered loudly. Bewildering thoughts buzzed through her mind. "Well, this Tarik sure is stupid to believe no one would ever dare to escape."

  Seta remained silent. Alex could tell she hadn't understood a word she'd said. But the sound of her own voice comforted her.

  "Well, I dare." She glanced up at the servant who stood gaping down at her. She hadn't really understood much of what Tarik had said, either. She patted Seta's arm.

  Sure, and she was still in the twentieth century and he had a couple of sand dunes near Cairo he was willing to sell cheap. Alex grabbed Seta's hand, pulled herself up, and brushed herself off.

  "Come on. Show me."

  The servant scurried forward. Taking great care to be quiet, they hurried down a long, dark corridor that opened into a wide courtyard. For a moment, Alex forgot her predicament and surveyed her surroundings. The view took her breath away.

  "Shhh." She put her fingers to her lips and stopped. Immense, marble columns alternating with tall palm trees ringed the entire area that glistened beneath the stars. A ripe, full moon gave life to the white, marble statues, their images shimmering across the surface of a long reflecting pool. Alex stared, overwhelmed by this spectacle. This garden was a tribute to Isis, the mother of the god Horus, the wife of Osirus, the goddess of Kemet.

  Alex dipped her fingers in the pool. "Wow! This place is glorious." Was it some sort of palace? "Hah! Doctors here seem to live as well as they do in the twentieth century. It's nice to know some things always stay the same."

  "Huh?" Seta eyed her quizzically.

  A cool breeze rippled across the water giving life to the reflections. There was an oddness to the air and Alex shivered. Her senses told her this was all real, but how could it be?

  With any luck, she'd probably been run over by a camel and was in a coma somewhere in a Cairo hospital.

  Dazed and distracted, Alex stood still until Seta motioned to her. "There Sinw. Opening to go." Seta pulled Alex along behind her and hurried across the courtyard. "Servants sleep. We must go now."

  Had she said servants? Not guards, or sentries, or police? If Tarik had no security, maybe luck would be with her and she could make it back to the tomb. If Seta knew the way.
r />   "Seta," she whispered. "Show me Mentuhotep's resting place." The girl crouched down, and covered her ears as if Alex had shouted profanity at her. "No, I must not. It is forbidden."

  Alex pulled Seta down beside her. "Then show me the way. I'll go by myself."

  Seta grabbed Alex's hand. "No. Tarik will be angered. You will be punished."

  "I don't care." Alex strode through the portal, stopping beneath a large palm. This whole situation was so ludicrous. She straightened her shoulders. Well, she wasn't about to wait around for some white knight to ride to her rescue. "Look, I'm leaving. With or without you. Now you can come with me and have your freedom, or you can hang around here and feed figs to the enemy for the rest of your life. The choice is yours."

  Hesitantly, Seta followed to where Alex stood. "I cannot let you go alone. I will take."

  Relief flooded Alex with a renewed sense of purpose. If she could just get back to the tomb, she'd figure out a way to get home. Somehow.

  "Thank you, Seta. I won't forget your kindness."

  "We go down street. Follow brightest star. It points to Mentuhotep. He is Living God." Seta pointed straight ahead.

  She seemed to know the way, and grabbing Alex's hand, pulled her along. They hurried down the dusty road toward the edge of Abydos, not stopping until they reached a great pile of discarded fragments of stone and pottery beneath a large fig tree.

  "Wait here, Alec. We must have water for journey. Stay by ostraca. I will get water from well."

  "Hurry, all right? I want to get away from here as fast as possible."

  Seta nodded and pulled out a pottery jug from the cloth bag slung over her back. "You wait. I hurry."

  Alex pulled a ripe fig from the tree and slumped down behind the fragments to enjoy her feast. Munching on the sweet fruit, she picked up one of the shards. Her father had told her how the Egyptians had used ostraca to teach the nobles, priests, and scribes. Crude hieroglyphics covered the hardened piece of clay. Simple. Elementary. Rudimentary. No doubt, from one of the many scribes in training. "This really is ostraca!"