Page 39 of Tomb of the Sun King

“Cypress wood,” Mr. Al-Ahmed observed. “Naturally resistant to pests and humidity.”

“It’s empty,” Constance noted, poking her head over Ellie’s shoulder to peer down at the artifact.

It was still a lovely find—just a wooden shell to the looters who had ravaged the tomb over a millennium before, but to a scholar, the jewelry box offered a poignant glimpse into the everyday life of the woman who lay on the floor behind them. Ellie could picture Mutnedjmet carefully sliding it open to pick out a set of earrings to wear for the day.

“That’s it,” Neil declared behind them. “I’m going back up to do the best I can to save this dig.”

He grasped the rope that still hung down from the shaft opening in the ceiling.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Constance whirled after him.

Mr. Al-Ahmed turned the box gently in his hands as though unable to resist the urge to appreciate its details. Ellie hovered near him.

Adam stood at her back. “Am I gonna need to hogtie your brother?”

“I think Constance has the situation under control,” Ellie replied distractedly.

“Stay away from the rope, Stuffy,” Constance warned menacingly from behind them. “Or I may be forced to resort to violence.”

“Violence?” Neil spluttered. “What on earth does that mean?”

“Is it just me, or is there something off about the depth?” Ellie leaned closer to Mr. Al-Ahmed as she studied the box.

“It seems more shallow than it ought to be,” he confirmed thoughtfully.

He tilted the angle of the artifact for a better look—and Ellie heard a soft but distinct rattle.

Both she and Mr. Al-Ahmed went still, their eyes locking with a matched look of significance.

Neil’s voice called out stridently behind her. “I will not be threatened inside my own—”

“Quiet,” Adam ordered, his voice low and serious as he looked up at the tomb shaft. “We’ve got company.”

Ellie’s gaze snapped to the dark opening in the ceiling… and the clamor of distance voices echoed down to her from above.

??

Ten

Beside Ellie, Mr. Al-Ahmedstill frowned thoughtfully at the wooden box, seemingly oblivious to the chaos blooming behind him. With a muttered prayer, he set his thumb to the gold disk inlaid into the narrow front face—and pressed.

The gold sank into the cypress with a distinct click.

“We should prepare for battle!” Constance declared in a stout whisper.

“Battle?” Neil’s eyes widened with panic, even as he continued to keep his voice low. “There’s no battling in archaeology!”

A thin, dark gap opened along one of the edges of the interior floor of the box.

“Pick,” Mr. Al-Ahmed ordered automatically, holding out his hand. Ellie startled, then spotted his opened box of tools nearby. She plucked out a slender metal instrument with a hooked end.

Mr. Al-Ahmed accepted it, carefully sliding it beneath the base of the box.

“I’ve got an idea.” Adam grasped the rope to the shaft and started to climb.

Ellie hurried over to the opening in the ceiling, looking up at the bottom of Adam’s battered work boots. “Please tell me that your idea isn’t to try to fend them off single-handedly!”

“I’m not that crazy,” Adam muttered down to her. “But you might want to step back.”

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