He was in his father's study. Head spinning, stomach turning and eyes unable to focus. He had taken a brief respite from the party downstairs, taking the key from underneath the statue of Isis that stood on the bookcase at the top of the stairs, and turned it in the key to his father's office. James always locked his study when he was away; not that he didn't trust his son, of course, but rather because he knew that this sort of thing was bound to happen, and he shuddered at the thought of drunken teens spilling cheap beer over any of his books or papers. It didn't matter anyway, because Carter knew where the key was. It's hiding place hadn't been moved in the entire seventeen years he'd been alive, but he understood the message his father wanted to send. The study wasn't to be included in whatever party the rest of the house was subject to. So when Carter twisted the key in the lock, he knew he would find a few minutes alone. He flicked on the lamp with the bottle green glass shade - exactly the type you would expect to find in an old library. Sitting in the brown leather chair at his father's desk, he breathed deeply. He glanced at the books on the shelves, half wondering whether he should pull one down, and if he did, whether the words would be gibberish on the page. This stuff had never made any sense to him. It was then that the door opened. Carter shot up, swaying only a little, holding onto the edges of the desk for support.
"I was looking for the bathroom." Evie said in explanation from the doorway. Her eyes scanned the walls and the bookshelves. Carter watched as she went from drunken confusion at not being met with the bathroom she expected, to curiosity at standing before what was clearly a small private library, to a hundred muttered apologies as she realised that this was the room that had always been locked when Carter had thrown parties in the past, and that as a result, he must clearly not want anyone in here. Carter moved towards her slowly. She was Emery's friend, not his, and he barely knew the girl. They hadn't shared much more than a single conversation in the two years he'd known her, but he noticed the gold chain at her neck and was intrigued. Close enough to touch it, he lifted the tiny charm that hung suspended.
"An ankh." He said, eyes widening. Evie's own eyes widened in response.
"You know what this is?" She asked, gently pulling the chain from his fingers and taking the charm between her own. She held it between her thumb and index finger in a practised gesture that told Carter she was prone to tugging on the chain often.
Carter gestured to the room behind him with a sweep of his arm.
"My father thinks himself an egyptologist. He teaches at the university sometimes, and the local museum sometimes ask him to write out information cards and help with exhibits." He said by way of explanation. Evie's eyes sparked in understanding.
"That's why you're called Carter. Are you a budding egyptologist then, like your father?" She asked. Carter's eyes glazed over, and he blinked slowly. The dizziness that had sent him up here in the first place was returning, and at this point he figured the only thing to combat it would be more beer. He laughed at her question, but Evie noted the coldness that crept into his tone, the guardedness that accompanied the laugh, and the barrier that went up behind his eyes.
"No." He said shortly. "I am an endless disappointment to my father in that regard." He answered, pushing her gently backwards and through the doorway, before pulling the heavy wooden door shut with a soft bang, and turning the key. "The bathroom's at the other end of the hallway." He said, retreating back downstairs, where above the din could be heard the sounds of cans opening, bottles clinking, and the dull, heavy thump of the stereo.
Carter sat back on the wicker chair in front of the sliding double doors in his cabin. Emery was in the shower, and as Carter glanced around the room, he silently swore that next time they travelled together, they would be getting single rooms. His clothes littered every available surface. An open suitcase lay next to his bed, void of all clothes. The chest of drawers had been commandeered as a storage place for Emery's numerous rings and necklaces, and the myriad bottles of hairspray and hair gel that he claimed he couldn't travel without.
Emerging from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, Emery absently dabbed aftershave onto his neck. Sensing his roommate's eyes on his back, he laughed.
"I'm trying to catch me a barman." He said in answer to the question Carter hadn't asked. Carter bit back a laugh, and turned back to his book.
"You read almost as much trash as Evie." Emery remarked, studying the cover of the book Carter cracked open. "Dante's Inferno, Christ you're a ball of sunshine." He said with a roll of his eyes that he had perfected when he was nineteen. Carter didn't reply, but looked blankly at his friend until Emery raised his hands in surrender and began the laborious task of rooting through the pile of clothes on his bed for the shirt he wanted.
Carter, who had showered and been ready for an hour already, rose to his feet. The sun was setting, and so far the boat hadn't pulled in at land today. They were due a tour of Karnak temple after dark, and so the day had instead been spent on the loungers on the sun deck, taking advantage of the open bar and the deliciously strong cocktails they had on offer. "I'm going for a walk." He announced. "I'll meet you at dinner."
He found Emma standing at the rail outside her cabin. He stopped next to her, resting his arms on the metal bars.
"Don't you look dapper." She remarked, eyeing up the crisp white shirt he had decided to wear for dinner. They were the youngest group on the cruise, and he was sick of the disapproving looks whenever they walked into the dining room and were met with a sea of well-dressed pensioners who still clung to the idea that dinner on a cruise was a formal affair. He grinned and tugged at his collar.
"I scrub up well when the occasion calls for it." He remarked. Emma smiled, turning absently towards the door of her cabin.
"Evie was drying her hair. It sent the temperature in there skyrocketing. I told her to come get me when she's done so I can go for a shower without feeling like I've stepped into a furnace."
"Em, I'm done." Evie said, as if on cue, sticking her head out of the door. "Oh, hey Carter. I see you're already ready." She examined him from his head to his toes, then shrugged. "You'll do, I suppose." She said with a rueful smile.
Emma pushed off the barrier, waving a quick goodbye to Carter and leaving him standing at the railing. Evie remained in the doorway and he was reminded of that night all those years ago, when they were both seventeen, drunk, and barely knew one another. He had always kept his distance, even with his closest of friends, and yet he felt the strong urge to pour his soul out to her. It must be this place, he thought, the very embodiment of my father's disappointments.
"You're going to get a permanent wrinkle between your brows if you think any harder." She said lightly, joining him at the railing. The sun was going down before them, turning the water pink. He met her gaze wordlessly before looking back at the river.
"It's okay, you know. You don't have to... explain anything to anyone." She said softly. "I was as surprised as anyone when you said you wanted to come along on this trip, but you don't owe us anything, not really. Not that we don't want to know why you're all of a sudden so pensive and philosophical. But we won't ask, if that's any consolation."
"It really... isn't. But thanks." He replied.
"I can gather it's something to do with your father." Evie said, as though she were remarking that the sky is blue or that sand is yellow. He turned his gaze to her again, but her eyes were fixed on the horizon. "I can tell. You act like you hate all this stuff, but that's not true. It can't be. You wouldn't be here otherwise." She paused for the briefest of moments and then continued. "I always thought our friendship was based on the mindless consumption of alcohol and pushing each other to sing the most ridiculous song on karaoke. We don't ask questions, we don't pry. But my curiosity is getting the better of me." She said breezily. "It's the historian in me."
No longer liking the direction the conversation was taking, Carter decided now would be a good time to go back to his cabin.
"The historian, not the psychologist. Stay out of it, Evie." He said coldly, stalking back to his room. She was reminded of that same night at the party, when his defence mechanisms had shot up at the mention of him following in his father's footsteps.
She watched him leave and then shook her head.
"Talk about Daddy issues."653Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1DKWAGVABC
After dinner, Carter had gone back to his cabin and picked up the small, worn, leather bound notebook his father had given him. At the airport, his father had presented it to him, wrapped in a cloth bag.
I had it when I was out there. There are a few blank pages at the back. Maybe you can finish what I started.653Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUwg0mME3Xk
His words echoed as Carter flipped through. There were notes in his father's sprawling hand, quick sketches, detailed drawings. And at the back, a polaroid of a golden ring. One polaroid of it half buried by sand, another after it had been fully excavated and cleaned. His father, in a bright red pen, had drawn several question marks at the bottom. Anomaly: This shouldn't be here, he had written. Too early to be found inside Tut's tomb.
Carter wasn't sure if his father had found the ring, or if he was simply commenting on someone else's findings. What he was sure of, though, was that his father had a vested interest in this ring, and he clearly didn't think that was all there was to be found. In capital letters, on the last page he'd written on, James had written in dark ink: What else lies beneath?
He watched her weaving through columns at Karnak. They had disembarked the boat and, like at Abu Simbel, Evie had been content to get lost on her own. Carter made an attempt to follow her, but Emma's extended arm stopped him.
"Let her have this to herself. You know she's dreamed of this since she could walk and talk." She said, keeping her pace slow and deliberately making no effort to catch up to her best friend. "No doubt in ten minutes she'll be back, boring us all senseless with tales about that specific column there, or this very particular carving here." She said with a grin. "Relish the silence while we have it."
But the notebook was burning in Carter's back pocket, as well as the desire to apologise for being so off earlier. So he ignored Emma's arm and followed Evie into the temple complex. He found her standing, gazing up at a carving of Rameses II. His legs were astride, arms raised, holding a spear. Carter knew the image; a picture of it hung by the front door at home. She heard his approach, but didn't acknowledge it.653Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZbosQlr3XE
"I wanted to apologise. For before." He began. Her head inclined a fraction towards him, but she didn't turn. "Look, maybe, on some level you were right about my father." He continued, walking closer until he stood next to her. "I want to show you something."
That got her interest. She turned, eyes burning with curiosity. He pulled the book out of his pocket and extended it towards her. Her eyes flickered down at it, and after what felt like an age she plucked it from his fingers and began turning the pages.653Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC3WqEKgSAP
"Look at the last page."
She did as he said, flicking to the back of the notebook. She saw the pictures. Saw the notes. She understood, too, what Carter didn't.
"Do you know what this is?" She asked, fingers drifting over the picture of the ring. Her eyes never left the page. Carter shook his head.
"The ring has Nefertiti's cartouche. Your father wrote here that it was found in Tut's tomb." She said, her voice almost a whisper.
"But I thought Tut's tomb re-used plenty of what was already made for Nefertiti. I thought they just scratched her name off and put his on instead."
Evie shook her head. "But this name hasn't been scratched out. No one's even attempted to put Tut's name on this. No, this is hers. Only hers. I would have imagined it would stay with her."
What she was saying began to dawn on him.
"You mean... this ring wouldn't stray very far from her mummified remains?" He asked, marvelling at the fire that had lit in her eyes. A tentative smile passed across her features.
"No. No, I wouldn't expect the two to be very far apart at all."
"And if this was found in Tut's tomb, then..."
"Then it could be true. She could be buried in a hidden antechamber inside Tut's chamber in the Valley of the Kings." She finished his sentence, her excitement building. She grabbed his hands and stared deep into his eyes, willing him to understand. It was infectious, and he too began to smile.
"Do you have any idea what this means?" She said, breathless. He nodded slowly.653Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMSXf9BoUG6
"I think so. It means that my father could have been onto something well before anybody else was. It means that this ring could prove that Nefertiti is buried behind that wall." She nodded, her eyes dancing. Throwing her arms around his shoulders, she whispered two words into his ear: thank you.653Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEc7FbgUPot
