The Lost Scroll of the Physician by Alisha Sevigny

Author:Alisha Sevigny
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2020-01-24T16:00:00+00:00

The next morning, I check on Ky, who seems to be much improved. Ahmes had given me some juniper and marjoram oils, which I administer with a gentle scalp massage to reduce any lingering pain and in the hopes of encouraging some fluid to drain. As I walk into temple the smell of the juniper on my fingers merges with the burning incense.

Walking past the giant obelisks, I think upon my brother’s condition, which only started this past year. He contracted a dreadful illness, suffering from fever, a stiff neck, and terrible head pain. With Father’s constant care he survived the sickness, but it left fluid inside his skull, causing swelling, which has been steadily worsening. I know Father feared it might eventually kill Ky; that’s why he was so consumed with the scroll.

If the document was indeed written by Imhotep, the greatest physician of all time, it might hold crucial information that will ensure a successful outcome. As Ahmes pointed out, it could describe an innovative procedure or special technique that has been lost or forgotten over the years, one that can save Ky’s life. I cannot wait for the festival. I must get into Nebifu’s chambers at once.

I hurry past several priests into the inner chamber where some of the junior scribes have surrounded a gesticulating Paser. There is a dressing on his temple, covering his wound from the night before. They are inquiring how he came by his injury.

I go to my spot and reach for my instruments.

They are not there.

Panic flutters in my chest. I lift my mat, thinking back to the night before. I am sure I placed them there, just before going with Paser and Reb to see the …

Reb.

Straightening, I look for him but he is nowhere to be found. I march over to Paser and the group.

“Where is Reb?”

“He is not here today?” Paser looks around.

“It appears not.” My hands are on my hips. “And neither are my writing tools.”

A loud clap has the group dissipating and everyone taking their seats, me reluctantly.

“Today we will be learning more about the complex process of mummification,” Sebau says brusquely. “Have your writing instruments ready, as you will be taking detailed notes of this process. Everyone follow me.”

Everyone grabs their things and starts down the hallway toward the room with the bodies I saw last night. Giving a last desperate look around for my tools, I follow the group, empty-handed.

“One must show utmost respect for the dead at all times,” Sebau says over his shoulder as we trail down the hall. “You are the only group of students permitted to observe this sanctified process.”

This is one of the changes my father implemented. For much of the past, medical scribes had naught to do with those who did the embalming. But Father felt much could be learned by examining a body. With him gone, who knows how long they will keep up this practice? Sebau stops in front of the entrance to the room and gives us a stare as hard and cold as the walls of a tomb.

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