Yakhmos was unable to read the story of the journey to the end. He had just come to a description of the wonderful submarine gardens seen by the travellers in the Blue Waters when the lamp went out and the plunderer had the greatest difficulty in getting out of the underground chamber, taking with him only the unusual stone.
In the light of day the crystal from the distant land seemed even more beautiful; Yakhmos would not part with the stone but it did not bring him good luck.
Pandion had a great journey to his native land ahead of him and Yakhmos hoped that the stone with which Baurjed had returned from an unheard of distance would help the Hellene, too.
“Didn’t you know anything about that journey before?” asked Pandion.
“No, it has remained hidden from the sons of Quemt,” answered Yakhmos. “Punt has long been known to us, the ships of Quemt have made many journeys there at various times, but the lands farther south still remain, for us, the mysterious Land of the Spirits.”
“Can it be possible that there have been no other attempts to reach those countries? Could not somebody else have read those inscriptions, as you did, and have told others about them?”
Yakhmos thought for a while, he did not know how to answer the foreigner.
“The princes of the south, the governors of the southern provinces of Tha-Quem, have often penetrated into the interior of the southern countries, but they only wrote about their spoils, about the ivory, gold and fish they brought to Pharaoh, so the road remains unknown. And then, nobody has tried to sail farther south than Punt. It is too dangerous — there are no such brave people today as there were in ancient times.”
“But why hasn’t anybody read those inscriptions?” insisted Pandion.
“I don’t know, I can’t answer that question,” admitted the Egyptian.
Yakhmos, of course, could not know that the priests, whom the people believed to be great scholars, the holders of ancient secrets, had long since ceased to be any such thing. Learning had degenerated into religious ceremony and magic formulas, the papyri that contained the wisdom of past ages were rotting away in the tombs. The temples were deserted and in ruins, nobody was interested in the history of the country as told by countless inscriptions on hard stone. Yakhmos could not know that such is the inevitable fate of all science that alienates itself from the invigorating strength of the people and becomes the property of a narrow circle of the initiated…
Dawn was drawing nigh. With a feeling of despondency Pandion bade farewell to the unfortunate Egyptian to whom no hope of salvation was left.
The young Hellene wanted to take the dagger and leave the stone to Yakhmos.
“Can’t you understand that I need nothing any more?” said the Egyptian. “Why do you want to throw away such a beautiful stone in this foul hole of a shehne?”
Pandion took the dagger between his teeth, grasped the stone in his hand and, crawling in the shadows, reached his own cell in safety.
Until daylight broke he lay sleepless. His cheeks burned and shudders ran over his whole body. He lay thinking of the great change that was to enter his life, of the imminent end of the monotonous stream of weary days of sorrow and despair.
The hole that formed the entrance to his cell turned grey and the pitiful objects that constituted his entire possessions gradually emerged from the darkness. Pandion held the dagger in the morning light. The broad blade of black bronze (Black bronze — a specially hard alloy of copper and one of the’ rare metals. The metallurgists of antiquity were able to obtain alloys of exceptional hardness by adding zinc, cadmium and other metals to the bronze.) with a high rib down the middle was sharpened to a fine edge. The massive hilt was carved in the form of a lioness, the savage goddess Sekhrnet. Using the dagger, Pandion dug a hole under the wall and was hiding the Egyptian’s gift in it, when suddenly he remembered the stone. Fumbling in the straw he found it and took it to the light to examine it more thoroughly.
The flat fragment of crystal with rounded edges was about the size of a spearhead. It was hard, extremely clear and transparent and its colour seemed to be a greyish blue in the darkness that precedes the dawn.
As Pandion laid the stone on the palm of his hand the rays of the rising sun suddenly struck it. The stone was transformed — it lay on Pandion’s hand in all its brilliance, its blue-green colour” was unexpectedly joyous, bright and deep, with a warm tinge of transparent, golden wine. The mirror-like surface of the stone had apparently been polished by the hand of man.
The colouring of the stone reminded Pandion of something that was very familiar to him, its reflection brought warmth to the youth’s heavy heart. Thalassa! The sea. It was exactly that colour, far from the shore, at the time when the sun hung high in the blue heavens. Natura’e, the divine stone, is what the unfortunate Yakhmos had called it!
The miraculous sparkle of the crystal on the morning of a joyless day was a good omen to Pandion.
Yakhmos’ farewell gifts were magnificent — a dagger and a stone of unknown properties. Pandion believed that the stone portended his return to the sea, to the sea that would not betray him, that would bring him back to liberty and his native land. The young Hellene peered intently into the stone out of whose transparent depths rolled the waves of his native shores…
The menacing roll of the big drum thundered over the cells — this was the signal arousing the slaves for their day’s work.
Pandion made a momentary decision — he would not part with that unusual stone, he would not leave that symbol of the free sea in the dusty earth of the shehne. Let the stone remain with him always.
After a few futile attempts he eventually found a way to hide the stone in his loin-cloth and, although he lost no time in burying the dagger, was almost late for the morning meal.
On the journey and during their work in the gardens Pandion watched Cavius carefully and noticed that the latter was constantly exchanging short phrases first with one and then with another of the shehne leaders known to Pandion. These immediately went away from the Etruscan and talked to their followers.
Pandion chose a safe moment and drew near Cavius. The Etruscan did not raise his head from the stone he was dressing but spoke softly and quickly, without even taking breath.
“Tonight, before the moon rises, in the end gallery of the northern wall…”
Pandion returned to his work. On the way back to the shehne he passed Cavius’ message on to Kidogo.
Pandion spent the evening in anticipation — for a long time he had not been in such high spirits and so well prepared to fight.