The Sage

By Robin Ballard

In Book Two, Ahmose continues the archivist’s legacy. He makes a promise, which he intends to keep –– but good intensions are one thing and fulfilling the archivist’s task is another. It is more difficult than he could have imagined and key bits of information have gone with the archivist to the grave –– or have they?
In the meantime Egypt prepares for war. Strife with the Sand-Dwellers to the east threatens stability and even Ahmose and Kai’s friendship is put to the test. In the midst of conflict, the archivist’s murderer returns and he is looking for revenge. He would like nothing more than to silence Ahmose forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robin Ballard
• Release date: Jun 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476192093

Robin Ballard

Robin Ballard was born in Los Angeles, California. A graduate of The Cooper Union School of Art, she currently lives in Switzerland. She has written and illustrated many books for children including "Zeig mir ein Tier", her first picture book in German. After an inspiring trip to Egypt, she wrote "The Archivist", a young-adult novel set in ancient times. "The Sage" followed as did "The Singer", the final book in her Lost Spells of Egypt series.

Book preview

The Lost Spells of Egypt

Book Two

The Sage

by Robin Ballard

Copyright 2012 Robin Ballard

Smashwords, Second Edition, 2014

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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For Jasper

Special thanks to Maryvonne Chartier-Raymond of the Basler Forum for Egyptology.

Table of Contents

Prologue : A Ba Listens

Chapter 1 : At the Tombs

Chapter 2 : Back to School

Chapter 3 : The Treatise

Chapter 4 : A Matter of Time

Chapter 5 : An Accounting

Chapter 6 : Mighty Pharaoh

Chapter 7 : A Canaanite

Chapter 8 : The Task

Chapter 9 : Khemenu

Chapter 10 : The Labyrinth

Chapter 11 : Healing Power

Chapter 12 : The Lady Tells a Story

Chapter 13 : The Ties That Bind

Chapter 14 : Two Seeing Eyes

Chapter 15 : Mistaken Identity

Chapter 16 : To the Nile’s End

Chapter 17 : Poison Water

Chapter 18 : The Heart Scarab

Chapter 19 : The Prince

Chapter 20 : Astarte

Chapter 21 : The Traitor

Chapter 22 : One of the Fallen

Chapter 23 : A Donkey Goes Missing

Chapter 24 : Breaking Camp

Chapter 25 : Ani Receives a Visitor

Chapter 26 : A Ba’s Chance Has Come

Chapter 27 : The Sun Rises

Chapter 28 : A Stowaway

Bibliography

The beginning is light

the end is Unified Darkness

The course of Ra in the West,

the secret plans which this god brings forth in it,

the excellent guide, the secret writing of the Netherworld,

which is not known by any person save a few.

This image is done like this in the secrecy of the Netherworld,

unseen and unperceived.

Whoever knows this mysterious image will be a well-provided Akh-spirit.

Always will he leave and enter again the Netherworld,

and speak to the living.

A true remedy proven a million times.

— The Treatise of the Hidden Room

Prologue: A Ba Listens

At first, I did not recognize the voice. It spoke to me from a portal on the other side; from the land of the living and its countless delights. It was a man’s voice and, given his eloquence and the way the words flowed from him without falter, he was most certainly learned. The praise he heaped upon me was accurate. I was philosophical, scrupulous, and enlightened. I was, he said, in every way the epitome of the name I carry: Iqerib, which means intelligent heart. This was a man who knew me well.

Yes, I had been admired once. My capacity for retaining knowledge had been envied. I consulted on all matters concerning the mysteries. I spent many a night debating with men of high office on the interpretation of the classics. How I had to bite my tongue in order to keep my head! Some were utterly uneducated rogues. They lacked an appreciation of the written word. Even the youngest of my students at the temple school showed more skill than them, especially at reinventing the Egyptian language, which they did most creatively.

I, as teacher, tried to stamp out the scourge of misspelling and the unforgivable disregard for grammar. I wanted my students to understand the importance of modesty and the art of silence. At times, I felt my commitment flagging, but I persevered. I filled their hearts with the texts of the ancients and instilled in them the proper respect for those, such as myself, who held titles of distinction. The man who spoke to me now, whose voice reached into the netherworld to evoke me, was familiar with my titles. I was known as teacher, chief librarian of the House of Books, and resident sage. It is true that not everyone is capable of achieving such noble occupations as I have done. I worked under the protection of the mighty god Amun. I administered his archives and educated his young scribes. I helped maintain his vast holdings and insured the rites of his veneration. I loved Amun in every way. I never failed in my daily prayers or in the work I undertook in his service. But Thoth was my master.

I have always been first and foremost a scribe, and as such I am guided by the teachings of the god of wisdom. I am in awe of what the god has given man. To think that I held it — all of his wisdom — in my mortal hands! What treasure Osirankh and I found in the House of Books. In a cache of documents, we found a written record of Thoth’s accumulated knowledge. We found the Book of Thoth. The scrolls were terribly tempting and I was, at times, almost torn asunder with the desire to know — to know — everything.

Osirankh and I were sure that we had kept the book’s earthy existence secret, but alas, we failed. My former students turned on me. My nephew, Sobek, instigated my murder. I have spent years here on the other side in the land of the dead asking for forgiveness — for the chance to serve my master again. How I had been deceived! How despite my erudition, I yearn for revenge!

But not all my boys were offenders. It would be wrong for me to infer this. Most who left the temple school went on to distinguish themselves. I realized that this man whose voice now tickled my memory into recognition was a former student of mine. Yes, I remember Ani now. He was a thin, modest boy, with large round eyes. He was Osirankh’s roommate at the temple school. He was Osirankh’s long-lost friend.

I was flattered that Ani still remembered me after all these years. He brought bountiful offerings to strengthen my ka spirit. He spoke my name in praise. But wait! There is more to this than a convivial visit from a student to a long departed teacher. Something is amiss. Ani begins his tale, its origins not far from where I grew up in the shadow of the Peak of the West. I listen to Ani captivated and sense that my chance has come.

Chapter 1: At the Tombs

Several months earlier…

Teacher Ani was poking his staff along the dusty pebble-strewn path leading to the western hills, when he began to worry. Perhaps he had made a mistake. Perhaps he was in danger. He wiped the beads of sweat from his brow, his shaved head glistening in the afternoon sun. He glanced over to his escorts. The two men towered over him, their necks thicker than Ani’s thigh. Deep down Ani knew that it had been the offer of a fine payment, which had made him reckless. Ani was advancing in years. There would be a time when his work at the temple would be taken over by someone younger. He might be in need of a personal reserve to support himself before he left the land of the living.

Several days ago he had received a letter. It came from a man whose name Ani had not recognized. There were many benefactors of the temple of Amun. Some were even members of the High Council of Temple Construction of which Ani was a member, but Ani did not mix with them, nor did he take a particular interest in the wealthy. They wanted their names carved in stone for eternity. They were more concerned in promoting themselves than in the content of their inscription or its accuracy. Writing was Ani’s job and he took it seriously. He was not only known as a teacher at the temple school, but also as a sage.

He assumed that he had been summoned to the western hills to view some wealthy man’s tomb, to consult him on the most advantageous placement of his funerary objects, or to compose a text of the man’s great deeds. The physical size of his escorts had not been something that Ani had noticed when they came to pick him up at the temple harbor in the wooden skiff that afternoon. He had enjoyed crossing the Nile and having a moment to himself to breathe deeply. The men maneuvered the skiff into a channel cut into the western bank. Oddly, the guards at its entrance had not taken an interest in them. Traveling through the date palm groves and fruit orchards, Ani marveled at the beautiful play of light and color, the well-tended fields, and the adept placement of flowering plants. At the end of the canal, the men brought the skiff to a halt and from there they had traveled on foot. When they passed the road, which led to the tombs of the nobles, Ani asked about their final destination.

You will see when we arrive, they had replied.

His escorts’ answer had been much too vague for Ani’s liking. Their silence, which at first he had enjoyed now seemed menacing. But what could he do? He could not order these men to return him to the temple of Amun. He doubted that they would be so accommodating. He considered feigning a twisted ankle, but then decided against it. Given their size, his escorts would simply carry him rather unceremoniously between them.

The men led him past a village and onto a path. Workmen, accompanied by guards walked toward them. They were dirty and their faces expressed a mix of exhaustion and pleasure at finishing their shift. Ani stopped in his tracks with an inkling of understanding. When the path came to an end Ani was brought to the bottom of a cliff face where he spied an opening between the rocks. Ani’s escorts told him to go inside.

Follow the passage to the very end. We will wait for you here.

Ani climbed down into the earth. The sour smell of the workmen’s sweat hung in the air. He peered into what at first seemed to be nothingness, but after his eyes adjusted, he perceived that several lamps were lit along a corridor. In the dark, their tiny flames floated before his eyes. He moved between the roughly hewn walls, poking his staff before him and careful to avoid any shafts that might have been cut into the floor. He went down a steep staircase and a somewhat precarious ladder. Ani found himself in a sunken room. He crossed it, climbed out on the other side and, passing through a large chamber, he followed the light which shone from yet another staircase. This was exactly how Ani envisioned the netherworld. It was a place full of twists and turns and the unknown.

Emerging from the stairwell, he entered a large oval chamber lit by torches. The chamber’s smooth walls were covered in sketches. Ani moved in closer to study the drawings and read the writing. He recognized the scenes; they came from a sacred funerary text entitled The Treatise of the Hidden Room. Although it had been some time since Ani had read the text, its content came back to him. In the days of his youth, when he apprenticed in the temple of Ptah in Memphis, he had on several occasions had to make a copy of the text.

Behind him he heard the crunch of sand on stone. Ani swung around in surprise, almost dropping his staff.

Welcome to my tomb, said a voice.

A man stepped from the shadows. His head was shaved and his eyes were painted with black lines of kohl. He was handsome and wore no ornamentation. His clothes were simple, but of a fine weave. His physique was noticeably tan, his muscles were defined and, when his lips parted, Ani saw his teeth were sound. Ani had seen him at the temple more than once. Surrounded by his entourage, set apart from the masses, at times he had seemed aloof. But his bravery was known and he was not one to shirk the responsibilities of his office.

Ani dropped to his knees and prostrated himself on the ground. It was not an easy task at his age, but he knew his place. Thank you, Pharaoh. Thank you for this honor, he said, humbly.

You are surely wondering why you are here — why I have lured you here with a false request? He paused and a torch nearby crackled, sending sparks into the air. You may rise and look upon me. Pharaoh gestured to the walls of his tomb. Tell me, he asked. What do you think of the work?

The content is most appropriate and the simple design appealing. However, I have not studied the treatise for some years and I would need more time to go over it in detail. Ani hesitated. I am struck by something, though.

And that would be? asked Pharaoh.

I cannot judge the four directions as we are underground, but it is very important that the treatise begins on the west wall and ends on the east wall, meaning that the beginning and the end of the text should oppose each other. This does not seem to be the case here. It defies balance and order. I highly recommend that this mistake be remedied.

In a matter of moments you have found what the overseer failed to notice over a course of months. This will be my resting place for all eternity and it is not sound. Was this man in my employ simply a fool? Or was this oversight made on purpose, to benefit some other cause? I am not without enemies. If they cannot defeat me on the battlefield, they will try to defeat me in the afterlife.

Ani tried to formulate his words carefully. Being a sage meant that one should not jump to conclusions. Illustrious pharaoh, I can well understand your concern. One of my duties in Amun’s service is to oversee accuracy and composition in all that is carved or painted on the temple grounds. I am sad to say that errors are unavoidable — from the scribe whose eyes are failing to the craftsman who is unable to read the very words he carves. Perhaps it is merely a mistake.

Pharaoh stopped and turned to face Ani. I do not have time for mistakes.

Ani nodded gravely. No, my king. May I ask who the overseer here is?

His name is forbidden to be spoken. He is gone now, to the savage interior of the Kush, all representations in his likeness have been destroyed.

I see, murmured Ani.

The position is open and I want you to fill it, said Pharaoh.

Ani bowed low. He was truly touched by his king’s confidence but at the same time he was concerned about the consequences of failure. Ani was not one for the rugged life of the untamed south. For a moment he felt like the air in the tomb was thinning and he took a deep breath to speak. I am honored, Pharaoh,

"Good. I