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“An Eighth Nome official,” he declared proudly, “and his wife.”
Constance narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “That was quite the lucky guess, then,” she noted, remembering his comments about the ancient couple from the night before.
“It wasn’t a guess,” Neil retorted crossly.
“Then how did you know this was an Eighth Nome official before you could read any of the words?” She waved a hand at the hieroglyphs.
Neil crossed his arms. “I just… used a bit of intuition.”
A new and unexpected suspicion popped to life in the back of Constance’s mind. She contemplated it as she studied him.
“What?” Neil frowned at her. “Why are you staring at me?”
“No reason,” Constance replied, filing the bizarre and intriguing thought away for later.
Neil frowned at her skeptically before his gaze was drawn back to the inscription on the wall—and then he was pushing past Constance to kneel down in front of it.
“Thinis!?” he exclaimed.
“Sorry?” Constance returned, confused.
Neil jabbed an urgent finger at the hieroglyphs. “Nihkayankh, steward of the nomarch of Ta-Wer,who sealed the royal tombs of Thinis!Do you have any idea how important this is?”
He sprang to his feet, pacing across the entrance to the tomb as he continued. “Thinis is the ancient lost capital of Egypt’s First Dynasty. Maspero theorized that it was located somewhere in the vicinity of Girga, though Brugsch and Mariette have argued for Kom el-Sultan or el-Tineh. But we know it was very likely somewhere in the Eighth Nome, and really when you consider…”
Constance stared at him.
“I’m… I’m rambling. Aren’t I?” he offered awkwardly.
“Yes.” Constance softened. “Though to be fair, I would normally be quite happy to discuss mythical cities, especially if it means there might be clues to undiscovered ancient ruins full of forgotten treasure knocking about. But at the moment, we already have a legendary tomb to find and a bevy of villains whom we must assume are already several hours ahead of us. We cannot rely on the booby traps holding them off forever.”
“Booby traps?” Neil echoed. “What booby traps?”
“The ones in Neferneferuaten’s tomb, of course.”
“But tombs don’t have booby traps,” Neil protested.
“Of course they do,” Constance corrected him.
They paused at the mouth of their rock-cut chamber. Neil contemplated the climb with an expression of tired resignation, then cast Constance an awkward look. “I never thanked you for last night.”
“Which part of it?” Constance asked.
“The part where you broke me out of that study. Herded me through a boat full of criminals.” He nodded at the stone cavern behind them. “Found us a place to hide.”
“You would have done the same thing,” Constance said dismissively.
“Would I?” Neil returned with obvious skepticism.
“Well—maybe notquitethe same thing,” Constance allowed. “But you did save both our hides when you threw us off the boat. That was a good bit of quick thinking.”
“But I left them the tablet,” Neil pointed out glumly.
Constance gave his arm a reassuring pat. “You can’t expect to get it all right on the first try.”
Neil’s expression drew into lines of resigned dismay. “How many more tries do you expect we’re going to have?”
Constance flashed him a sympathetic smile and refrained from answering. Why give him the bad news now? He’d only worry over it the rest of the way up the Nile.
