The Memory Painter: A Novel (35 page)

Bast touched his arm in a maternal gesture. “So you see, Thoth, the Brotherhood of Horus are Guardians, in secret. Only one son or daughter can inherit the seat. Your father chose you.”

Now Thoth understood why Hermese had taught him so much. She had known he had been chosen. The weight of that ancient vow pressed upon him and Thoth envisioned his father’s hand reaching through the Duat to help him accept it.

He sensed Ma’at studying him. She frowned and said, “Hermese should have been here by now.”

Thoth’s heart quickened. “Hermese is part of the fellowship?”

Ma’at nodded. “The Guardian is leader of the Brotherhood.”

It took Thoth a moment to comprehend what she hadn’t said. “Hermese is the Guardian?” He could see looks being exchanged around the table.

Thutmose answered, “Hermese has been Guardian since her father died four months ago. We were waiting for the child’s conception to announce the transition.”

Thoth sat speechless. Her father’s death coincided with when they had abandoned the potion and she could not even tell him. So she had carried their secret after she had conceived so that they could have a few more stolen scraps of time together. He was ashamed of the anger he had felt when he last saw her.

But she was coming. The underground tunnels connected the city to the pyramid complex and the temple. The knowledge that they would be able to meet each other in secret gave him life again, and now her parting words made sense: Horus was God of the Horizon and she would meet him here … with the Brotherhood.

Thoth wanted to laugh for joy, but then he saw Thutmose’s worried face and his previous sense of alarm came rushing back. The time for speaking in private had passed.

“I am honored by your trust and inclusion, and I must speak freely now. I was on my way to seek my father’s council when I learned of his death … my brother is going to make a move against the House of Atum. He has a spy inside the temple. Somehow he knew about the child.”

Thutmose swore and jumped to his feet. “I should have never left her alone. When is he planning to strike?” He put on his cloak.

“Tomorrow, upon Sirius’s return. I hope I am wrong.”

Ma’at shook her head. The seer’s eyes grew more unfocused as her mind turned inward. She drew a sharp breath, her face filled with horror. Whatever she saw there was unspeakable. She only could whisper, “He already has her.”

FORTY-TWO

Bryan listened to Linz moan in her sleep and felt her forehead again. She was burning up.

On the flight over, she had complained of not feeling well, and by the time they had landed, she was barely conscious. Bryan had managed to get her through customs and into a taxi. Luckily it was just a short drive to the hotel in Heliopolis. He had left her sleeping in the cab while he checked in and then carried her to the room and laid her on the bed. She had not woken up since—and that was twenty-four hours ago.

The fact that he could not rouse her, even to drink water, alarmed him. She had also been speaking in her sleep in a language Bryan had never heard before. If she didn’t wake up soon, he’d have to take her to a hospital.
She’ll wake up
, he assured himself. She had to.

Thinking that he should have aspirin, food, bottled water, and whatever else Linz might need on hand when she woke, Bryan got dressed and wrote her a quick note, just in case, and left it on the pillow. He hung the “do not disturb” sign on the door and headed to the elevators.

“Is your friend any better?”

Bryan turned around and saw the young housekeeper who was assigned to their floor. She had helped him usher Linz into the room yesterday. He had felt an immediate affinity for her, but could not place her from anywhere in his past. It was like meeting an old friend again and forgetting their name.

She gave him an inquisitive smile, waiting for his response. She was a lovely Egyptian girl with wide almond-shaped eyes and a classical face. There was a natural light about her, as if she was always eager to laugh.

Bryan swallowed his frustration and answered, “She’s still sleeping.”

“Well, let me know if I can get you anything. My name is Layla.” She continued down the hallway. Bryan watched her walk away.

He got on the elevator and headed to the lobby. The Intercontinental at City Stars was more opulent than what Bryan would have chosen. Linz had booked their room in Boston while they waited for their flight. The enormous development center included two other hotels and the largest mall in Europe and the Middle East. With over six hundred stores, two theme parks, and a twenty-one-screen cinema, the shopping mecca was a manifestation of the twenty-first century’s voracious appetite for consumerism. Bryan had never experienced anything like it.

As he pushed through the crowd, the life he had come to find had never seemed more unobtainable. Maybe it was a mistake to bring Linz halfway around the world. Running away hadn’t solved anything. Bryan had used his credit card to pay for the flights and their hotel room, making it possible for Conrad to find them. Hell, he controlled a billion-dollar pharmaceutical empire. He could find anyone.

Bryan’s concerns about Conrad evaporated as he stood in front of the massive mall directory. He counted six levels at City Stars and vowed he would only go up to three—he wanted to get what he came for and get out. Working haphazardly and with hardly a clue as to what Linz liked or needed, he bought her toiletries and food.

On his way out, he found a hobby store and purchased a drawing pad, charcoal pencils, and oil pastels. He knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere until Linz recovered. Maybe drawing would trigger something. He was starting to feel desperate.

*   *   *

When Bryan got back to their room Linz was still in deep sleep. She didn’t wake from the noise he made as he rifled through plastic bags or react when he called her name.

He felt her forehead, and was relieved to find that at least her fever had broken—a good sign. He would let her sleep until morning and then decide what to do.

In the meantime, he piled the supplies on the table and got out a bottle of vodka he had bought. He poured himself a double shot.

The room had come with a terrace and Bryan stepped out onto it, feeling a night breeze brush across his face. He closed his eyes and, for a brief moment, heard the whisper of the ancient land he had come to find.

A comfortable-looking lounge chair beckoned to him. He leaned back and looked up at the sky; he had hoped for stars but saw only clouds and pollution. As he sipped his vodka, his mind turned to Pushkin. He felt an urge to write a poem but suppressed it. He wanted to recover new memories, not old ones.

Finishing his drink, he poured another, unable to quell his frustration. Why couldn’t he remember? He knew there were countless lives in his head, and yet the one he wanted to retrieve eluded him like a phantom. Again, his thoughts returned to the poem. It wouldn’t go away.

He went inside, found pen and paper in the hotel desk drawer, and returned to the lounge chair and began to write. He stared at the finished poem before tossing it aside, and in one deft move jumped up onto the balcony’s ledge.

Calling upon Bodhidharma’s grace, he walked the narrow strip with confidence, feeling his mind balancing on the same ledge. Bryan opened his arms wide and let the wind whip his body. He stood like that for several minutes and felt a calm wash over him.

Suddenly Bodhidharma’s voice rang loudly inside his head, commanding him to paint. Bryan jolted and opened his eyes—why was he standing on a half-foot ledge fifteen stories off the ground? He pitched forward and caught himself just in time, jumping backward onto the cement.

“Jesus,” he said, feeling breathless yet exhilarated. He went into the room to grab the drawing pad and oil pastels.

Returning to his chair, he stared at the blank paper, not knowing where to start—he had never tried to paint a memory before he had remembered a life. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine his Egyptian goddess. But ever since he had arrived in Cairo, she felt like a distant dream.

He was alone. And, somehow, he feared that, when it came, this memory would be the worst.

FORTY-THREE

EGYPT
10,000 BC

The plan was well under way when they heard the explosion. It made the earth shake with such magnitude that Thoth felt as if the ground would open up and swallow the city whole.

At first he thought Ammon had caused the tremor—the alchemist had left the tunnels to create a diversion outside the temple. But the blast was followed by a deafening vibrational hum. The sound could have come only from one source—the Great Pyramid. Something had gone terribly wrong.

The vibrations shook the air itself. Thoth and Thutmose held on to the walls. They had been waiting for Ammon’s signal in the tunnel at the temple’s hidden door. The plan had been to create a distraction so that Seth’s men would head to the gates. Thoth and Thutmose just needed enough time to slip inside, locate Hermese, and get her below. Meanwhile, Bast had returned to Heliopolis to rally the council, while Ptah addressed the citizens at the Sun temple.

Rocks fell from the underground tunnel’s ceiling and the staircase began to collapse. Thutmose launched his body forward and grabbed Thoth to keep him from falling. His voice was barely audible over the deafening hum. “We must go now!”

Thoth nodded, watching Thutmose open the door to the Constellation Chamber. The grand room lay in ruins; the beautiful lattice that framed the stars had crashed to the floor. Then, without warning, the vibrations stopped, leaving an eerie silence—a silence Thoth had never heard before.

The pyramids were quiet; the entire temple was dark. And as Thoth’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he understood what had happened. The pyramids had suffered a catastrophe. They stopped running because the Guardian had not been there to save them.

Thoth ran toward Hermese’s quarters with Thutmose right behind him. They encountered none of Seth’s men, only servants looking dazed and bloodied. When Thoth and Thutmose entered the Grand Gallery, they realized why: the entire House of Atum and their guards had been slain like dogs. Both men cried out at the carnage.

Thoth searched among the bodies, terrified that Hermese would be there.

Thutmose fell to his knees at the sight of his wife and son. Six of his finest men had fallen around them. They had tried to protect their commander’s family, even as they faced their deaths.

“Hermese! Hermese!” Thoth called her name as he searched. He turned back to Thutmose. “She’s not here. I’m going to her quarters.”

“I’ll look upstairs.” Thutmose forced himself to his feet.

Thoth saw the dead guards’ weapons piled against the wall and picked up a
khopesh
, a sickle-shaped sword best wielded with one hand. He found a mace and shield as well, tied them to his belt, and took off running. He prayed she was still alive.

*   *   *

When he saw the body, he was not sure. Hermese lay splayed out on the bed, her robes torn, her skin cut and bruised. Thoth knelt beside her and saw the faint rise and fall of her chest. Blood pooled between her legs, and he knew the child was dead.

Lifting her limp body, he cradled her in his arms. “Hermese, I’m here. Please wake up.” He rocked her as he cried.

Pulling himself together, he found a cloak and covered her, but not before he had seen the full extent of the torture she had endured. He knew this was Seth’s work, and he was filled with such hatred that any remaining love he had for his brother died.

Thoth carried Hermese back to the Grand Gallery but saw no sign of Thutmose. He could not risk waiting for him; the old guard would have to fend for himself. He could meet the rest of the Brotherhood underground.

Thoth made it to the Constellation Chamber and was almost at the hidden door when Seth and his men entered the front gate. Luckily, Thoth was at an angle where he could watch them without being seen. But in a few moments, Seth’s army would cross the main courtyard and they would be exposed.

Thoth could not risk opening the passage and revealing its location. Seth would do anything to know how to penetrate the tunnels. His only course was to delay them until the others could take Hermese to safety. He laid her on the ground next to the door and marched into the pouring rain, closing the distance between them.

“Traitor!” Thoth took out his sword. “I challenge you!”

Seth stopped and held out his hand, gesturing for his men to stand down. “Brother! You have come too late.”

Thoth could feel his body trembling with rage.

Seth called out, “She left me no choice. She refused to talk.”

Thoth could barely say the words. “You killed my son.”

“The decision weighed heavy in my heart.” Seth shook his head sadly. “But the boy could not live.”

“You are no longer my brother,” Thoth screamed, tears blinding his vision. “Kiya and Father are watching you from the Duat.”

“There is no Duat—no life after death. This is all we are,” Seth answered.

A curtain of rain fell between them. Thoth felt bile rise in his chest. “The pyramid is silent. What have you done?”

For a moment, Thoth saw Seth’s mask of confidence slip. Seth shouted, “It can be repaired. After we possess the hidden knowledge, we’ll be able to build more pyramids, heralding a new world. No more Guardians, no more secrets.”

“And who will be the leader of this new world? You?”

Seth spread his arms wide. “The people trust me because I am one of them. I don’t hide behind legends and lost magic. It’s time for a new beginning.”

“A new beginning in the dark!” Thoth turned to address Seth’s men. They needed to hear the truth. “Because that is where you will live—in a world with no light. There is more than one Guardian—a Brotherhood—and on Horus’ sacred oath, they will never let you have the hidden knowledge.”

Seth laughed. “More than one Guardian? Where are they?”

“Here.” Thoth pressed the khopesh to his chest. “Chosen by our father, who was chosen by his father, who was chosen by his—because his father’s father had been chosen by Horus himself. I am but one of many. You can kill me, but you cannot kill us all.”