Shamanka (25 page)

“Indeed,” nods Hufat. “Only the symbols change, and the rituals and names of the gods. This limited thinking is hardly surprising given that we are all made of the same ingredients.” He draws a circle in the sand. “Each of us is a miniature universe. All that is within us is also without; we are electric and magnetic, just like pebbles and planets. We contain a zoo of bacteria and parasites – even more so in the case of your orang-utan. I
do
wish it would stop scratching.”

Sam leaps to Lola's defence. “She has sand in her fur.”

“I don't care! She is making me itchy. Any more silly questions? Only it's my bath time. It's hot and I'm starting to stick to my mat.”

“Just one more,” says Sam. “Has a man called John Tabuh ever been to visit you?”

At the mention of the Dark Prince, Yerba Hufat screws up his face and snarls. “Who is he to you?”

“My father.”

“Gah!” Hufat spits into the air, lowers his umbrella and makes a great play of buttoning up the little strap that keeps it closed. He lays it next to him and hunches like a crow. “Yes, I met John Tabuh. He pooh-poohed my umbrella trick. He said it was just an illusion.
That
I could live with, but then he did something far worse.”

Sam can't imagine what that could be.

“Don't say he pooh-poohed your ball and cups? If he did, I'm sure he didn't mean to. It's just that he's a magician, and the ball and cups are … well, they are rather basic. Lola taught me how to find the ball when I was three.”

By now, Mr Hufat's face has twisted into a very peculiar shape, as if he's chewing a hedgehog.

“It's nothing to do with cups and balls!” he shrieks. “John Tabuh had the
audacity
, the
gall
, the
temerity
, to doubt the word of Yerba Hufat, despite the reassurance of my very good friend, his father!”

Choking on his own spit, he explains that John Tabuh had asked him if it was possible to bring someone back to life and Yerba Hufat had replied that he could do even better than that; he could bring something to life that had never lived.

“Impossible!” laughs Sam.

This makes Hufat even angrier. He turns and he shouts, “You are just like your father! Are you calling me a liar?”

“No, I'd never say such a thing. It's just that it goes against all the laws of nature.”

“Oh!” says Yerba. “You know all the laws of nature, do you? You know them better than Yerba Hufat, who is your elder?”

“But you can't even master the cup and ball,” says Sam, under her breath.

“I,” says Yerba, thumping his chest so hard that he coughs, “
I
am the greatest magician on Earth! If you refuse to believe I can bring something to life that has never lived, I'll just have to prove it to you, won't I? Just as I proved it to that incorrigible sceptic, your father.”

“How exactly did you do that?” asks Sam.

“How exactly did you do that?” mimics Yerba with revolting sarcasm. “I'll tell you how I did that! You see these two stone crocodiles? I snapped my fingers and worked Big Magic. At my command, they sprang into life and grabbed hold of your father's leg with their very sharp teeth. They gave him the most appalling injuries from which he no doubt died. He limped off into the desert with his magic box, and somewhere out there his handsome (
pff
!) but sceptical bones lie, picked clean by the vultures – ha! Good riddance to him!”

Halfway through this vicious rant, Khensu begins to growl at one of his crocodiles – it is not as it first appeared. Now that the umbrella had been removed, it's no longer in the shade, and the heat of the midday sun is having the strangest effect on it. It's starting to drip. As the sun continues to beat down, Sam notices a strong smell – like burning candles.

This is no stone statue; it's a real crocodile. It's been coated in a thick layer of wax to immobilize it. As the wax melts from its scaly eyelids, the creature blinks. Khensu leaps in the air; Kitty runs off screaming; Lola swings into the palm tree, and as Sam leaps to her feet, the sinful Mr Hufat commands the crocodile to attack.

“Fetch, Ammit! Eat the sceptical child!”

The masked magician stands at an angle facing away from the audience. Suddenly the magician levitates a few inches above the ground. How?

THE SECRET

1. Stand on the tips of the toes of your foot farthest from the spectator. The angle at which you stand, acting and misdirection all contribute to the illusion.

2. Inform your audience ahead of time that you intend to levitate.

3. Pretend to put lots of care into where you're going to perform.

4. Stress that there are no wires or gimmicks and allow yourself to be examined.

5. Act as if the levitation is physically straining.

6. The audience is misdirected from your actual method because they're busy concentrating on the movement of your feet and the space between the feet and the ground.

7. When “landing” make a point of hitting the ground hard and bend your knees to fool them into thinking you've “levitated” higher than you have. Practise in front of a mirror.

W
hen you're being chased by a carnivore, the natural instinct is to run. But that's the
last
thing you must do: the beast is programmed to chase you and kill you. Crocodiles look sluggish, but don't be fooled; they can reach surprising speeds in short bursts.

Aware of this, Sam faces Ammit and assumes a statue pose worthy of Bart Hayfue. It takes a great deal of courage to do this when confronted by a croc with a head the size of a cello, but her bravery pays off.

Confused that its prey is no longer moving, the crocodile slams on its brakes and peers at her like an old man trying to read a menu without his glasses. Unfortunately, crocodiles are good at pretending to be statues too – it's much easier to balance on four legs.

Knowing she'll be the first to wobble, Sam saves herself using that old standby, ventriloquism. She throws her voice behind her, making it sound as if Yerba Hufat is bleating like a goat. Hearing his favourite dish in full voice, Ammit whips round, runs on his scaly toes towards his master and chases him into the water.

To this day I don't know if Mr Hufat was eaten alive or whether the crocodile took one bite and spat him out; he was rather oily. Whatever happened, his curdling screams could still be heard ten minutes after Sam and friends had escaped on their camels across the Black Desert.

The camels have slowed down to a sullen plod. The plan is to head for Lower Egypt, to Tel Basta, but as I said earlier, Sam's camel has eaten the map. There are no signposts, so it's more than fortunate that they stumble across a tribe of nomads without whom I doubt they would have survived.

Sam's spirits are low. She's afraid her father died in the desert from his crocodile bite and that her mother has died with him, from grief, lack of water and heat exhaustion.

Thankfully that is not the case according to the wife of the chief tribesman, who welcomes the weary travellers to her tent and offers them camel's cheese and figs.

After their meal, Kitty, Lola and Khensu fall asleep against a pile of tasselled cushions. While they sleep, the tribeswoman tells Sam about the time she found a man bleeding to death in the Black Desert. He was in the arms of his wife who was trying to staunch the flow of blood from his leg with her blonde hair.

A nomadic elder had strapped John Tabuh to the magic box and towed him behind his camel. His younger brother carried Christa, and the couple were taken to a tent where they were attended to by the nomadic women.

It was six months before John Tabuh regained full use of his leg, by which time he and Christa had become part of the tribal elder's family. The nomads persuaded them to stay for a further six months and, to repay them for their kindness, the Dark Prince entertained them with magic while Christa made clothes for the children.

“Thank you,” says Sam. “Thank you so much for saving them.”

The woman hands her a cup of mint tea. “My pleasure. Such charming people. My sisters were in tears when your father left. Compared to John Tabuh, their husbands suddenly looked like the backs of camels!”

Sam leans back against her cushion. “I don't suppose you know where my parents went by any chance?”

“Mexico.” The woman smiles. “I wonder if your mother had a little boy or a girl…”

Her mother had been
pregnant
? The news takes a while to sink in. To discover that your father isn't Bingo Hall and that your mother didn't die in childbirth takes some getting used to. Now Sam must get to grips with the fact that, somewhere, she might have a sister or brother.

At first she's excited, then she's jealous. She wants to be the
only
one, certain that if her parents had another child, they've forgotten her. If only she knew that no matter how many siblings came along, John and Christa could never love their first child any less.

If only we all knew that.

If you follow the east bank of the Nile as Sam, Kitty and Lola did, eventually you will come to Zagazig. Nearby is the ancient city of Bubastis, and there, hidden behind a grove, you will find the sacred enclosure that surrounds the ruined temple of Tel Basta.

Within it lies the shrine of Bastet, daughter of the sun god, Ra, protector of women, cats, children and all that is life-giving; she carries a rattle but I don't know if it's silver. And she has a sister, Sekhmet. According to Kitty, Sekhmet is the opposite of Bastet in every way. She is the wicked sister, the one who revels in darkness.

“Like Candy and Christa,” says Sam. “I'm beginning to think life is one big illusion done with mirrors, Kitty … Kitty?”

Kitty doesn't reply. She's kneeling at the shrine with Khensu at her side, offering up this prayer. It's in Ancient Egyptian, so I'll translate it for you.

“Beloved Bast, mistress of happiness and bounty, twin of the sun god, Horus, with your graceful stealth, anticipate the moves of all who perpetrate cruelties and stay their hands against the child of light. Watch over us in the lonely place where we must walk…”

This is as much as Sam hears. In the middle of the prayer, Khensu slips away. It's as if he's evaporated from his own shadow. Sam and Lola go after him in case he gets lost. This is nonsense, of course – cats always know exactly where they are.

They find Khensu in the Cat Cemetery, chattering to himself … or is he communicating with the spirits of hundreds of cats mummified and buried here? His ears swivel, he thumps his tail and he yowls. Perhaps the spirits are reminding him that he isn't just a barge cat, he's a demi-god. Deep down, he's known it all along and he draws himself up proudly like the sacred beast that he is. When Sam calls him, he sticks his nose in the air and ignores her.

“Come on, Khensu.”

The feline demi-god won't let Sam near him. Whenever she approaches him, he slides inside a tombstone, soaks into the soil or melts against the moon. Who knows where he's gone, but wherever it is, it's where he belongs. Sam knows he will never come back.