“An elderly man in the dress of a scribe sat on the one stool, his back against the wall, his tired face very sober. Hentre, who had faithfully followed his nomarch's fortunes to the end, who had remained in a foreign land to serve his lady and her son afterwards, was realizing in that moment the slowness of age just when he wished to give his best. "The message roll was sealed into a jar—" "And placed within the tomb chamber itself?" Rahotep demanded impatiently. If that had been done, there wa...s no hope at all for his sketchiest of plans. But Hentre and the Lord Nereb shook their heads in a duet of negation. "I arrived too late," the royal messenger said. "The Lord Ptahhotep's inner tomb chamber had already been sealed." "So the jar was set in the mortuary chapel before the eye window of the Watcher." Hentre took up the report once more. "In the mortuary chapel—" Rahotep moved on his pile of mats, his eyes closed as he tried to pull from the depths of memory a vision of a place he had only visited once and then so worn with grief that he had had little attention for his surroundings.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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