The Roads of Rostau were still guarded by the golden spider, but no high priests walked the tunnels. No one seemed to even know the Roads existed anymore, other than the Watcher, who had never ventured down there and almost considered them as much a myth as the Airlia themselves. Donnchadh and Gwalcmai knew they could get to the Hallof Records and use the scepter to gain access to the Ark with the Grail inside, but getting out was going to be a different story. Given the reaction to the Swarm craft, she had little doubt that opening the Hall of Records would cause some sort of alert. The Pharaoh’s soldiers and priests blanketed the entire plateau, primarily to keep the large slave population under control. Short of flying the Fynbar in, Donnchadh doubted they could get away with the Ark and Grail.
So they decided to use the same tactics they had used against the Airlia: division and dissension. They learned that the ruling Pharaoh, Ramses II, had two sons, the elder of which, Moses, had been exiled from the kingdom for attempting to lead a coup against his father. He had been sent to an outlying province, Midian, where he had been appointed governor. There was a younger son, given his father’s name, Ramses III, who obviously was in line to succeed.
Donnchadh and Gwalcmai traveled to Midian, which lay to the east of Egypt, on the desolate peninsula known as Sinai. They found the governor’s palace to be more of a large home, built of mud bricks, huddled on the inside wall of the capital city’s ten-foot-high walls. Midian wasn’t much of a city, consisting of barely a thousand people, and the province had little in the way of resources, other than some mines. A fitting punishment for a wayward son, but one that caused Moses’ resentment of his father to fester, as they learned while they spent several days in the city, listening and watching.
Donnchadh and her partner were able to gain an audience with Moses with relative ease, using a few gold pieces to bribe the captain of his guards. They found the governor sitting on a dilapidated throne on the roof of his house, staring out over the wall into the desert. Two bored guards barely checked the two of them, only taking the most obvious precaution of removing Gwalcmai’s sword before allowing themaccess to Moses. Donnchadh still had the scepter and her dagger tucked in the belt under her robe.
“This is far from Giza,” Donnchadh said in lieu of greeting the governor.
Moses turned his head toward them. “I was told your names but they mean nothing to me.” He did not bother to stand and greet them. He was a young man, with thick dark hair and an angular face. There was the slight trace of a horizontal scar on his forehead.
“Our names are not important,” Donnchadh said.
“Does the woman speak for both of you?” Moses asked.
Gwalcmai nodded. “She does.”
“Strange,” Moses commented. “What do you want?” he demanded, staring at Donnchadh.
“We want to help you.”
“You bribed the captain of my guards with gold to gain this audience,” Moses said. “How much more gold do you have?”
“How much gold does the Pharaoh have in his treasuries?” Donnchadh asked in turn.
“That gold is in Giza, and as you noted, Giza is far from here. And in more than just distance. If I cross the Red Sea, my father will kill me.”
“Not if he needs you,” Donnchadh said.
Moses took a long drink from a cracked ceramic mug before he spoke again. “And why will he need me?”
“To help with the problem of the slaves.”
“And what problem is that?”
“We’ll get to that,” Donnchadh said.
Moses drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne for several moments while his other hand tipped the mug and he stared sadly into the empty interior. “And why do you want me to return to Egypt?” he finally asked.
“To finish what you started,” Donnchadh said. “To lead a revolt.”
“The army is loyal to my father. And the priests also. I have no—”
“Not through the army or the priests,” Donnchadh interrupted. “You will use the slaves. The Judeans.”
Moses frowned. “You just said my father will welcome me back to deal with the problem of the slaves. I am aware of no problem. And then you say I will use the slaves to revolt against my father.”
“You will do both.”
Moses mulled this for several seconds, then a sly smile crossed his face. “Very interesting. And ingenious.” He lifted his free hand and traced the scar on his forehead. “You know, my father gave this to me when I was but a child. He beat me many times. I was born from one of his mistresses and should not have been allowed to live, but she hid me, then went to the high priest. Because my father had no other heir at the time, he was forced to acknowledge me. But once his third wife gave him a legitimate son, he no longer needed me.”
“We know,” Donnchadh said. “We have walked Giza, the city of Cairo, and the slave camps for many days. We know how your father rules; and we know that things are worse than your father is told by his advisers. The river runs low and there has been drought for the past two years. There is barely enough grain to feed the Egyptians, never mind the slaves. The Judeans are primed to revolt. They just need hope and a leader.”
“Why do you want this to happen?” Moses asked. “Are you Judean? You do not appear to be from this part of the world.”
“No,” Donnchadh said. She took a deep breath. “We are enemies of the Gods of Egypt. Because they are not realGods. They enslave all men just as much as your people enslave the Judeans and others.”
“If you said that in front of my father, you would be immediately put to death in a most horrible way,” Moses said. “He believes himself to be descended from the Gods and the priests tell him it is so.”
Donnchadh shook her head. “He is not and it is not so.”
“Can you prove this? Can you prove the Gods do not care for us? And that they are not real Gods?”
Donnchadh had considered this during the journey to Midian. “Yes.”
Moses slammed the goblet down. “How?”
“They cannot care for you because they are dead.”
“That cannot be,” Moses said. “Gods cannot die.”
“The Gods worshipped in Egypt are dead,” Donnchadh said. “I can show you their bodies. They are dead. Isis. Osiris. Horus. And others that are still worshipped.”
Moses considered this. “So the Gods are real but dead?”
“Were real and not Gods,” Donnchadh corrected. “And they have been long dead.”
Moses got to his feet. “Where are these bodies?”
“Along the Roads of Rostau, underneath the Giza Plateau.”
“And you can take me there?”
“Yes.”
Moses headed toward the stairs, staggering slightly, but catching himself. “We leave in the morning. I must rest first.”
You cannot tell people what you are seeing,” Donnchadh said to Moses while Gwalcmai stood guard just inside the door to the chamber, sword in hand.
The three of them were clad in the gray cloaks taken from the Watcher’s hut and stood next to a black tube, the top ofwhich was open. Inside lay the body of one of the Airlia, slain by Vampyr many years previously. There was no mistaking the fact that the body was not human, and that it was indeed dead. The pale skin had mummified, shrinking tightly around the bones underneath. The hair had continued to grow after death, surrounding the head like a red pillow. Six clawlike fingers were at the end of each hand. Along the side of the body was a golden staff with a sphinx head on one end.
“The Gods are indeed dead,” Moses murmured. “I had heard rumors before you appeared, but no one dared say anything publicly.”
“Because the Pharaoh’s power base is religion,” Donnchadh said. “It is something they”—she nodded at the bodies—“have always used. And they passed on that knowledge to the Shadows who ruled after them, and the Shadows passed it to the Pharaohs who rule now.”