Prologue

 

One Year Ago

Al-Fayum Oasis, Egypt

Pinpoints of light studded the inky sky, taunting Dr Elizabeth Pimms with their stubborn persistence. The distant pyramids were dark triangles of nothingness, made conspicuous by an absence of stars. Sitting cross-legged atop a sand dune, breakfast laid out before her, Elizabeth willed the day to begin.

The cacophonic call to prayer that had woken her for the past two weeks echoed throughout the valley. At first, she thought she would never get used to the bewildering, invasive sound. Now, she couldn’t imagine starting the day without it.

Roused every morning by that eerie wailing she had quickly developed a routine: kiss Luke’s rumpled hair, crawl from their tent, then begin her predawn rituals of impatience. She was washed, dressed and fed before anyone else even stirred. How could they bear to waste a single moment of their time here?

As she picked through boiled eggs, soft cheese and fresh fruit, a hint of apricot appeared on the horizon. Then, a blush of pink. Finally, a faint blue announced the approach of the rising sun. Why did dawn have to take so long?

There was just enough light to make out the glyphs on her cherished cartouche necklace. As she had a thousand times before, she traced the silver pictographs with her finger: Amun, the Sun God; Tut, an image; Ankh, the Waters of Life. She imagined how Howard Carter must have felt the very first time he spied the wonders of Tut-Ankh-Amun’s tomb through a tiny crack in the wall – fantastic!

Just like her hero, Khaenweset the Restorer, fourth son of Ramesses the Second and Egypt’s first celebrated archaeologist, Elizabeth was bent on a life of uncovering lost treasures. It was her all-consuming passion. After twenty years of yearning, planning, and dedicated study, she was finally here, following in Khaenweset’s footsteps. Now a skilled archaeologist and knowledgeable Egyptologist, Elizabeth was ready to make her mark.

Dawn inched closer. Elizabeth had learnt the hard way that she must wait for the sun to be fully over the horizon before attempting the descent into the excavation’s trenches; she wouldn’t risk another twisted ankle.

Shafts of gold played on the edges of the pyramids as the sand around her grew warm. More than three thousand years ago, Khaenweset had excavated these very same pyramids…

Finally! The bottom edge of the sun was visible. She could start her day’s work.

Elizabeth grinned, retrieved her provisions, and slid heel-first down the sand dunes to her tent at the edge of the camp. She moved as quietly as possible, gathering her hat and toolkit, receiving a protesting groan from Luke. The rest of the team also cursed her early morning starts. Honestly, how could they stand to sleep in? There were ancient puzzles to solve, long-forgotten stories to tell and groundbreaking research to publish. Come on, people!

As she hurried to the trenches, Elizabeth savoured her recent triumphs. She recited them every day, like a personal mantra of joy: earning her doctorate, joining this dig, winning Luke’s heart. Rapture. She missed her family, of course, but Dad was able to look after Matty without her now. By filling her days with gridlines and trowels, then sorting finds in the evening with Luke, she was bound to discover something momentous – she just knew it.

Kneeling next to her section in the sand, meticulously unpacking her brushes, Elizabeth recalled the first time she’d seen Luke. Just eight short years ago, in Archaeology 101, her very first class at university. There he’d been sitting in the front row, dazzling. Part of her mind had daydreamed of kissing him as she’d devoured the lecture on archaeological hoaxes, Egyptology and the Neanderthals.

She couldn’t have predicted that, only three weeks ago, she’d be standing in Khaenweset’s actual tomb, clutching Luke’s hand. Pure bliss.

Okay, enough daydreaming, woman, time to concentrate on work.

—

At mid-morning a skinny arm stuck a glass of apple tea under Elizabeth’s hat, breaking her concentration. Elizabeth peered into the pedlar’s face. It was Ḫālid. Although she never accepted drinks at the markets, she trusted the regular site visitors not to drug her.

‘Shukran.’ Thank you.

Sipping the piping-hot sweetness, Elizabeth picked over the scarab carvings she had uncovered that morning. She looked forward to cleaning and sketching them tonight. She thanked Ḫālid again, and handed back the glass with a little baksheesh.

Elizabeth returned to her square to brush away the next layer. She revelled in her fellow diggers’ chatter, the blazing sun on her back, and her deeply fulfilling labours. Life as an archaeologist was everything she had imagined it would be.

—

That afternoon, beneath a brilliant blue sky, Elizabeth watched Luke’s head bob towards her over the dunes.

As he drew nearer she could see that something was wrong. He was ashen, expressionless. She felt a chill.

‘Lizzie, I’m so sorry,’ he sputtered. ‘It’s…your…it’s your dad.’

Time slowed.

‘What? What do you…What?’

Silently, Elizabeth begged him not to answer.

‘He’s…A message came. It could be wrong,’ Luke pleaded. ‘I’m so sorry, Lizzie, but, it said he’s dead.’

In the space of a single breath Elizabeth’s father, and her new life, were gone.

The world went cold. Grey.

She had to go back.