Free Imhotep by Jerry Dubs Page A

“You, Djefi.” Then he patted
his chest and said.  “Me, Tarzan.”
    “Tarzan,”
Djefi repeated.
    “Naw,
I’m pulling your leg.” he laughed and shook his head.  He patted his chest
again.  “Brian.”
    “Brian,”
Djefi said in the same quiet, menacing voice Paneb had heard earlier.
    The
artist looked at the powerful, playful god and the short, terrifying priest and
wondered which would survive.
     
     
    T he first guard returned riding one camel
and leading two others.  He reined the camel to a stop and leaned forward
and talked to it.  The camel lowered itself to a kneeling position. 
The guard swung a leg over the camel’s small hump and slid down to the
sand.  Then he went to each of the other camels and ordered them to kneel.
    Brian
walked over to the camels, the first guard trailing after him.  He turned
back to the tomb and called, “Come on, Diane.  It’s camel time.”
    He
circled carefully away from the camel’s faces and approached one of them from
the side.  “You got any double humpers?  I was kind of expecting to
sit down between the humps, you know?”
    The
guard smiled at him.
    “No
saddles, huh?”
    Another
smile.
    Diane
joined him.
    “We
are supposed to ride these?  I hope they have liability insurance.”
    Brian
patted the dusty side of the camel.  “Look, the hump isn’t that big, I
mean, it’s not pointy or anything.  I’m sure they wouldn’t let us on these
if it wasn’t safe.  Adventure, babe, adventure.  Think of the stories
we’ll have when we get back home.”
    The
first guard came over and stood close to Brian, his back to Djefi.
    He
placed his open palm against his chest and quietly said, “Bakr.”
    Brian
repeated the guard’s name.  Then he took the guard’s right wrist and
pulled his arm toward him.  Reaching with his right hand, Brian clasped
the guard’s hand in a handshake, their palms pressed together, thumbs
interlocked and fingers pointed up.
    The
guard looked up at the large god, his eyes glowing with excitement. 
“Brian,” he said softly.
    “Yep,”
Brian said, squeezing the guard’s hand and then releasing him.  “Now,
let’s ride us some camels.”
    He
turned and lifted Diane by the waist, easily swinging her atop the kneeling
camel.  Then he walked to a second camel and mounted it.  “Yo, Bakr,
you coming?”
    The guard
looked to Djefi who nodded his head curtly.  Bakr mounted the third camel
and shouted “Hup.” The three camels rose ungainly.
    “Whoa!”
Brian laughed, almost pitching forward from the camel.
    Diane
held the reins tightly, her body tense.
    Bakr
turned his camel and climbed out of the wadi.  Brian’s and Diane’s camels
followed, swaying from side to side, heading away from Ineb-Hedj, across the
desert to the oasis of To-She.
     
     
    A s soon as the three were out of sight,
Djefi took Paneb and Ahmes aside.  He told Paneb not to tell anyone about
the gods.  “Sobek wishes to speak with them.  Sobek alone.”
    Although
he didn’t understand why Djefi was being secretive, Paneb nodded his
head. 
    Djefi
reached out and patted Ahmes’ head.  The movement seemed unnatural and,
although Paneb flinched, he felt a flicker of pride that Ahmes did not offend
the priest by moving away from him, possibly because the boy’s attention was
still rooted on the strangely dressed gods.
    “Understand,
Chief Artist, Sobek does not want you to speak of these netjrew,” the boyish
voice took on a hard edge.  “There should not be even rumors of
them.  No one is to know of them.  Understand?”
    Paneb
nodded again, unable to meet Djefi’s eyes.
    “You
do not want to anger Sobek.” Djefi’s voice grew even higher pitched. 
“Sometimes, in his rage, Sobek takes children.”
    Djefi’s
sweaty hand rested for a moment on Ahmes’ head.  His face was bland as he
watched Paneb to be sure the artist understood.  “Sometimes, he takes
children.”
    Paneb
could not speak.  He looked at Djefi.  The priest’s