Daniel and the others waited two days in the Valley of Stones. By the end of this time, the Yarasadi were getting impatient and wanted to return home. Gadreel said she felt they should still wait, but Daniel could tell she was no longer as sure about this as she had been.
‘Oh, for Anu’s sake, let’s go back to Qimir’s camp,’ Salamiel said. ‘It’s obvious Shem isn’t coming back here. What good is it doing hanging around? Our supplies are running low. Remember we have to feed ourselves on the journey back.’
‘We can’t just leave him!’ Daniel said. He’d already made some short forays into the surrounding mountains, but had been unable to pick up any sign of Shem, physical or psychic. He’d also meditated for hours, trying to contact Ishtahar, hoping she could give him information, but she either wouldn’t or couldn’t co-operate. Daniel had never felt so alone. He couldn’t dispel the feeling that Shem was now far away, but still felt it would be a betrayal if they returned to Qimir without definite proof that Shem had gone elsewhere. There was still a chance he might be meditating somewhere up in the mountains.
Gadreel ran her fingers through her hair. ‘One more night,’ she said. ‘That’s all. This afternoon, we’ll have another thorough search and if nothing’s found, or Shem hasn’t turned up by tomorrow morning, we’ll leave.’
Daniel uttered a suppressed cry of outrage and turned away from her.
‘Salamiel is right,’ Gadreel said softly. ‘We can’t wait here for ever, Daniel.’
‘Then what do we do?’ he snapped. ‘Without Shem we have no purpose, no idea what to do. We are the limbs; he is the brain. Do we return to Qimir and forget all about the key and the Chambers, and the other avatars who must be waiting for us somewhere?’
Gadreel sighed. ‘I understand your anxieties, but I still think we should go back, not least because of what Salamiel has pointed out about our supplies. At Qimir’s settlement we could apply ourselves to working psychically to trace Shem. We could work intensively on what to do next.’
‘We have no key,’ Daniel said. ‘No master and no key. No knowledge.’
‘We have no choice!’ Gadreel said sharply. ‘We can’t stay here until we starve. And don’t think of waiting here alone. I’ll tie you up and drag you away kicking and screaming before I’ll allow that!’
That night, Daniel lay in his blanket, listening to the comforting sounds of horses around him, and the snores and breathing of his companions. This is my last chance, he thought. Ishtahar, come to me. Advise me as you always have.
His mind was totally blank. There was no buzz of psychic contact, just deadness, and the soft cacophony of mundane thoughts. ‘Damn it!’ Daniel said softly and sat up abruptly. Why was his ability so unreliable? He remembered how, when he’d first worked with Shem, he’d had psychic information tumbling out of his mind whenever it was needed. Now, it was such hard work, for so little reward. Maybe he was too old, too closed off. But he was Grigori now, no longer human. Perhaps that meant whatever blocks he was experiencing were self-created.
Daniel felt an urge to walk around and got to his feet. Creeping away from his companions, he ventured beyond the circle that Gadreel had drawn with the sword, and which they still kept intact, punctuated by the bowls of flowers and water.
‘Come to me,’ Daniel murmured. ‘I’m waiting. Come.’
He sat down on the cold stones. The circle, with its smouldering fire, seemed miles away. Wind fretted his hair, reached into his clothes with icy claws. He shivered. ‘Ishtahar! Come to me!’
There was no sign of the blue glow which presaged Ishtahar’s presence, either in reality or in his mind. Daniel concentrated harder, bellowed her name with his inner voice, willed her to manifest.
After a few moments, he opened his eyes. He felt dizzy, sick with the effort. Nothing, still nothing. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, uttered a groan of defeat. ‘Where are you, you bitch?’ He knew that in insulting his goddess, he was castigating himself, and yet the suspicion lurked within him that now he was Grigori, Ishtahar would no longer have dealings with him. He had become the person with whom she’d once had to compete for Shemyaza’s affections.
A rattle of stones alerted him and he dropped his hands from his eyes. For a moment, all he could see was sparkling stars of light, then his vision cleared. A serpent was undulating over the stones towards him. It was as thin as a whip and even in the meagre light of the distant fire, its scales glinted and glistered with a gold-shot blue radiance, as if it were made of lapis lazuli. Its eyes were sapphires, each reflecting a single, purple spark.
Daniel stared at the creature, hardly daring to believe it might have come in answer to his summons. ‘Ishtahar?’ His voice was a whisper.
The serpent reared up and hung before him, its blue-black tongue flickering in and out of its lipless mouth. ‘Ah, Daniel, you chide me so sorely,’ it said.
Daniel’s shoulders slumped in relief. ‘You came. Thank God!’
‘Thank who?’ lisped the serpent. ‘You should thank me, and me only.’
Daniel detected a new tone to Ishtahar’s remarks, a sharpness that had not been there before. ‘Then I thank you, Ishtahar. My sore words are inspired by desperate need.’
The serpent undulated before him; a private dance. ‘Ssso, you are Grigori now, my Daniel. You have regained what the years have taken from you, while I still languish in my grief.’
‘We both deserve respite,’ Daniel said carefully. ‘Yours will come.’
The serpent dipped and swayed before him. ‘Yet even in your elevated condition, you still need me — as I have ever been needed by men!’
‘You sound bitter,’ Daniel said. ‘You never were before.’
The serpent emitted a sound like a sigh. ‘It is my curse to be a goddess to others,’ it said, ‘yet who will be a god for me? Must I wait for an eternity to live again?’
Daniel thought about this, and saw how he could, in some ways, be seen as instrumental in this continuing torment. ‘You are a goddess because you allow it. People petition you, and you hear, you respond. Surely only you have the power to end the curse?’
The serpent contemplated him silently for a moment. ‘Daniel, I am a forgotten goddess. My shrines are ruins, visited only by lizards and birds. Only you call to me now and hold me to the form I am.’
‘I do not wish to cause you suffering,’ Daniel said. ‘You came to me as an advisor. It was you, not I, who initiated our contact.’
The serpent lunged forward, but Daniel did not flinch. ‘It was love that drew me to you,’ the serpent lisped. ‘Love for a man, your master. You do not need me now, yet you bind me to the earth.’
‘I do need you,’ Daniel said softly. ‘And I will always be grateful for what you have done for me. But I don’t want to bind you.’
Purple sparks flared in the serpent’s eyes. ‘You are releasing me, Daniel, from our confederacy?’
‘If you want me to, yes. If my word alone will provide that release.’
The serpent swayed a little. ‘Then I accept that release with gratitude. You may ask me one last question.’
Daniel considered for a while, knowing that the way he worded this question was extremely important. Ultimately, he opted for simplicity. ‘How can I regain my inner sight?’
The serpent did not hesitate. ‘You have never lost it. Your dilemma is that you do not trust yourself, which is why you stare into darkness. You have been so close to the answer, walked the ground where it lay absorbed by the stones, yet did not recognise it. You can hear the things that even Shemyaza did not hear. The answer the key gave to him.’
‘I can’t hear it. I have tried — walked these mountain paths. They are silent.’
The serpent expelled a short hiss. ‘Oh, Daniel, Daniel. Look within. Must I hold your hand at every turn? You are more now than I was in life. You have reclaimed your angel blood. Listen to its music.’
Daniel closed his eyes and summoned a quiet within him. Have faith, he told himself. He listened to the beat of his own blood and it resolved into the sound of feet trudging a stony path. An image bloomed in his mind: Shem climbing and climbing. He could feel all that Shem felt as he walked towards the site of vanished Kharsag. He saw the devastation that Shem had seen and then, almost in slow motion, relived Shem’s communication with the crystal. When the time of Shem’s capture came, he was aware of the sound of the guns, but in his head, louder than any metallic threat were the words, ‘Go to the old kingdom. Carry me to the Chambers. In Khem.’ The words Shem did not hear.
Daniel opened his eyes with a gasp. ‘Egypt!’
‘Yesss!’ hissed the serpent. ‘Shem has gone to Babylon, but you, my Daniel, must lead your companions back to Egypt.’
‘Back to Egypt? We have not yet been there.’
‘It is the place of beginning, but not your beginning.’
‘But where in Egypt? What must we do there? Will Shem join us?’
‘Remember, Daniel, you are of the Lion,’ answered the serpent. ‘Seek the lion of the desert who guards Orion.’ It began to retreat, back into the darkness.
‘Wait!’ Daniel said. ‘You must answer me, Ishtahar. It is not enough just to tell me we have to go to Egypt. I need more! Stay! I command you!’
The serpent uttered a long, soft hiss. ‘You released me, Daniel. You are on your own now.’ Presently, it disappeared into the shadows. Daniel uttered an anguished cry and jumped to his feet.
‘Daniel!’ Gadreel’s voice.
He turned and saw her approaching him from the circle. It was nearly dawn. He could see that Gadreel’s eyes looked sleepy. ‘What are you doing out here?’ she asked, rubbing her face and yawning.
‘Trying to get answers,’ he said.
‘And did you succeed?’
He shrugged. ‘We have to go to Egypt.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Ishtahar came to me. That’s the only information I could get.’
‘But where in Egypt?’
‘She told me to seek the lion of the desert who guards Orion. I can only hope that was a reference to the sphinx.’
Gadreel reached out and squeezed Daniel’s shoulder. ‘Good, good. This is what we need.’
‘But it’s hardly enough.’
‘No, it’s more than enough. Much more than we had before tonight. We know now what to do. I’ll wake Salamiel and tell him. The others might as well go back to Qimir’s camp.’
‘It’s so far, Gadreel. We can’t ride there.’
‘It’s not that far to the nearest town, despite how desolate and lonely it feels up here. We’ll get transport. You and Salamiel still have money, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘No buts. That’s all we need. Our final destiny has been revealed to us. We have only to follow it.’
Far away, in Cornwall, Helen Winter woke up in her narrow bed. Blinking from sleep, it seemed to her as if a shower of blue sparks were falling down onto her, disappearing as they touched the quilt that covered her body. She could not move at all, but sensed that the sparks were pouring out of her scarab beetle Met-Met’s jar. At the same time, she was gripped by a strange sensation. It was similar, in some respects, to when she fell over and the air was knocked from her lungs, but this feeling was a reverse of being winded. Something was gusting into her with the same sudden impact. Helen was not afraid. She was used to seeing and feeling strange things.
Released from her paralysis, she gulped for breath and sat up in the bed. Should she call for her mother? Not yet. The sparks and the peculiar sensations had gone now. She hopped out of bed and went to the window, where the curtains hung open.
Outside, the garden had disappeared. The cottage was surrounded by the sea, and now rose up from its own small island. Helen saw a shining figure walking towards her across the dark waves. It was a golden-haired man, dressed in a white robe. He seemed to be walking fast, but he came no closer to the island. His arms were held out to her, yet he could not reach her. ‘Do not worry,’ Helen said to him, touching the glass of her window with small fingers. ‘Your love has brought me back. I am coming to you.’
She drew the curtains across the window and went back to bed.