The Castors of Giza by Chris Hambleton

Author:Chris Hambleton
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Published: 2012-03-06T04:30:00+00:00

Chapter 13 - Origins

Meti strapped the last pack onto the donkey's saddle and glanced up at the rising sun. It was going to be warm today, but not unbearably so. He still marveled at how often the old man surprised him with his cleverness, from the various trinkets around his house to this simple belt of loops and buckles.

He heard a door close in the back and knew it was his master going out to the porch. Shalam had been stretching and working his muscles ever since they had observed the new tribes entering Lower Kemet. He was moving around with much less effort now, and he seemed much stronger than he had been before.

He wasn't entirely certain of the old man's age, but he estimated him to be at least eighty to ninety years old, judging from the very observable aches and pains in his joints and his heavy amount of silver-streaked hair.

Even now, Meti didn’t quite understand why they were setting off on this long journey south, but clearly his master had more insight as to what was happening than he did.

Two days ago, he had brought word that the Pharaoh's house had been stricken with a series of strange plagues, and Shalam had become very excited. People always tended to flee from such cursings, but not his master – as soon as he'd heard of the occurrences, he had wanted to go and see them for himself!

He'd been unsuccessful at locating the man that Shalam had requested he find, but he hadn't been that disappointed. The news of the plague had either overshadowed it or finding him was no longer as important.

Meti finished checking the packs and then went into the house to find Shalam standing on the back porch. He was either praying or watching the sea, which was mostly what he did since he had known him. He was dressed in a light linen shirt with a sturdy pair of leggings.

His master was in better spirits than he had seen him in a long time. Often he could be quite morose and secluded, though he had never really learned what had made him that way. There was a certain depth to his eyes and manner of speech that betrayed a long history, but Shalam rarely spoke of his past. Sometimes, he had the distinct impression that a certain air of mystery surrounded his master, though he didn't know why.

"Are you ready, Meti?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. Would you like me to check over the house before we go?"

"No, I'm sure I remembered to secure everything. Besides, I don't have much, at least not anymore. This simple house by the sea is one of my few treasures," Shalam grinned.

"Master, are you sure you're up for this journey? I wouldn't want to see any harm to come to you because of it."

"Thank you, Meti, but I'll be fine. I'm stronger than I look – although I'll admit that this might be my last adventure."

"Sir, may I ask why we're going, anyway?" Meti asked.

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