three
.
Christen looks to her left and right and the woman is nowhere to be seen. It is as if she has completely vanished. She recognizes Vero’s throaty laugh and she scurries back to her tent and enters it swiftly. She doesn’t want anyone questioning her being outside. She stands with her back against door, her heart beating rapidly, briefly wondering if she is going crazy. She dismisses it as soon as she thinks it. She’s not crazy, she’s just tired and it’s been a long day. She just has an overactive imagination, that is all. Maybe something is pulling memories from all those stories she wrote as a youth about Egypt, those fanciful tales mixing with her yearning to find her soulmate. In this setting of the Valley of the Kings, it’s making her see things she wishes she could have. But then she remembers how the woman’s fingers felt on against her when she was on the ground. It felt solid. Real.
She shakes her head with confusion, she decides she needs to do something to take her mind off it.
She unpacks her clothes and feels soothed by the action. After her clothes are organized, she showers quickly and changes into sleepwear and grabs her bottle of Tullamore Dew. She pours herself just a tad over two fingers to drink and walks to the desk where her journal lies with one of her favorite pens. She seats herself on the surprisingly comfortable wood chair, takes a sip of her drink and then picks up the pen.
She looks up and stares at the window screen, hoping to possibly see the woman out there yet unable to see anything with the darkness outdoors and her mind turns back to the mystery woman. Flipping open her journal to the current page, she begins to write.
XXXX
May 17th
The strange woman is still on her mind when she wakes the next morning. She prepares for her day, needing extra focus as she gathers the items she’ll need for her review of the reliefs in the tomb. Then she joins the others for breakfast, relaxing enough with the energetic students to enjoy their rousing recap of their evening after the meeting last night. She tells them she has a nice wine to celebrate any major finds to share with them and they express their gratefulness and eagerness to discover something of importance. They talk about the tomb and random ideas they have about finding a way into the mysterious chamber if it exists.
They ask Christen questions about past expeditions and how she treated and handled artifacts in poor condition. Christen begins a casual lecture on handling antiquities and some of the more challenging items she’s worked on to restore to their original condition. They have a leisurely breakfast, lingering over coffee before someone from the museum arrives with the large monitors for the students to use in their review of the relief panels. Jurgen has returned and he’s at a separate table in his own little world as he concentrates editing the photos he took early this morning. He had hitched a ride to the tomb with Asim and the other engineers who were going to get lights and ventilation system in the tomb.
With Ari in Luxor applying for the permits, Christen thinks it’s fine to have an easy morning. She likes the students, enjoying their fresh passion for the field of archeology. They’re all smart, engaging and interesting. She does her best to remain equal in her conversations with them all, especially Vero. She recognizes how the Spaniard looks at her. She doesn’t want to lead her on.
When a van beeps its horn outside, they file out and help the driver unload the monitors and accessories. To their surprise, there’s a couple of high-resolution scanners and printers in there as well. Christen lifts a box and sets it down, smiling at Ari’s generosity. Shani, an Egyptian post grad student specializing in cultural anthropology and who Christen feels is a natural leader just from their conversations, does take the lead, genially suggesting arranging the tables and how to set up their workspace. The others gladly follow her lead, Vero producing a pocket knife to open the boxes. Mark and Brigid, an English exchange student, begin to move the tables together while Hasani and Shani unbox the towers.
Christen brings a tower over and feeds the power cord to Vero, who is under the table. It takes only a few minutes for them to get the area set up with ease. Jurgen is still editing, lost in his own world, earbuds in and Christen isn’t positive if he’s aware they’re moving about the space his concentration is so focused.
He snaps out of it to exclaim he’s ready, standing up and oogling the new monitors. The group sits down and sign in to their computers, linking to their student account and the expedition file. Jurgen shows them how the access the photos and they discuss how to begin. Shani and Hasani offer to transcribe the panels and run the algorithms and Vero, Mark and Brigid easily agree.
As Jurgen is pulling his camera out, he looks up at Christen. “Are you heading out now?” he asks.
“About thirty minutes,” she replies, “I need to get my gear together.”
“Wanna go together?” he asks, “I want to do some shots here first,” he explains, sweeping a hand towards the workstation, “but then I want to go watch the guys,”
She nods, “Yeah, take your time,” she encourages, “I’ll come back here and then we can go, yeah?”
“Awesome!” he grins.
Forty-five minutes later they arrive at KV20. They both see the four engineers down the slope about the three hundred meters from the road, near where the sand abruptly shifts upward into rocky terrain. Christen leaves her backpack by the entrance to the tomb and joins Jurgen to walk down and check in with them. Jurgen films while Christen listens to Asim and Ziyad discuss their work and their progress so far. The entire team is aware that this expedition is being filmed to benefit both schools and a future documentary and all have signed off permission to be filmed. When they finish, Christen is off to the tomb while Jurgen prepares his drone to film some overhead shots and then planning to come down to interview her later in the tomb.
Christen appreciates the lights in the corridor that assist her keeping her footing steady as she traverses deeper into the tomb. She hears the quiet whirring of a fan at the entrance of the tomb, it’s connected to a long hose drawing in air to circulate it throughout the small room. It helps to keep the temperature down and she’s grateful for that. It’s already warm and she has about two hours to work before leaving to return to camp for lunch.
She gets to it. She opens her backpack, removing her water and notebook and placing her trusty pen in the chest pocket of her Columbia shirt. She redirects the lights so they’re reflecting on the back wall to make it easy for her interpret the ancient hieroglyphs. There are seven panels within the tomb, the only ones remaining. It is said that when Howard Carter was here in 1903, he didn’t remove these panels because he couldn’t find a safe way to get them out of the tomb. They were much too large and he was perplexed with how they had gotten in here. Christen is pleased that they remain, having a strong feeling that them being here is significant.
The first thing she does is grab her tape measure and takes measurements of the height and width of one of the panels. She writes down the measurements in her notebook. She walks to the doorway and unsheathes her tape measure to the length of a panel, frowning when she attempts to move the small aluminum shaft through the doorway, attempting multiple times by changing the angle of the ruler. She realizes there is no possible way the entire panel could fit through the door. The corridor is much too narrow and any angle she attempts will not allow it.
Next, she examines the entrance, thinking maybe Carter burst into the tomb and didn’t expose the full entryway. Maybe there was a wider one that would allow the pieces to slide through. She inspects the left side, seeing the usual markings notifying one of the presence of royalty. She frowns when her flashlight shines on the right side, seeing the same markings and looks up to see the same uncracked, smooth limestone. The entrance is original. She can only make one conclusion from this information.
The panels must be in two pieces.
She writes her findings in her notebook, the scratch of her pen competing against the whirr of the fan. The relative quiet is calming and Christen enjoys it. She grabs her penlight, intent on finding the seams on the panels and detours to her backpack to remove her thin cotton gloves. She doesn’t want to contaminate the panels with the oils from her hands. She can’t find anything, not even a hairline crack from the occasional shifting of the earth, not a crack or a chip in the surface to indicate a seam. All she feels is the smoothness of the stone when she runs her hand up and down the surface with her gloved hand. She sits with her back against the sturdy platform holding the footrest across from the relief panels, removing her gloves and writing her findings down. She draws her knees up and sits with a forearm resting on her knee while she absently clicks the pen as she thinks. An idea enters her head and she quickly scribbles it down, making a note to speak with Jurgen when he comes down after he finishes up working outside.
She reaches for her water, uncapping it and taking a few sips before screwing the lid shit and placing it next to her. ”What secrets do you hold?” she asks aloud in Coptic as she stares at the wall. The now familiar slightly sweet scent enters her nostrils, making her take a deep and calming breath. She feels someone else is with her, she can feel the presence of someone. She hasn’t heard any rocks shifting from someone walking down the corridor, so she concludes it must be the woman.
”Who’s there?” she calls out, turning to see the entrance empty. She frowns with disappointment, wishing the mystery woman would make an appearance. She sighs and looks back at the wall.
”It is I,” the low voice she’s becoming familiar with replies.
She turns and sees her leaning against the entryway. She notes her outfit is different, she’s wearing another tunic, yet this one has long sleeves. It’s beautifully made, maybe silk she thinks, with fine, colorful beadwork around the collar area and at the ends of the sleeves and a colorful belt accentuating a thin waist that draws the eyes to the colorful hem of the tunic where it ends just above the knee. It’s an interesting outfit, again it’s more defined as a classical men’s tunic as opposed to a women’s gown. Christen glances up and notices the woman is wearing the same necklace with the beads and ankh pendant.
”Hello,” Christen greets her, her voice friendly, ”will you come in?” she invites. Strangely enough, she isn’t afraid, it’s quite the opposite, she feels drawn to the woman. There is something inexplicable that makes her feel comfortable when she knows, rationally, she should be at least concerned that she’s facing what she thinks is an apparent ghost.
The woman stares at her with a neutral expression, as if considering her invitation. Christen takes the time to really look at her. First off, she’s solid, like a real person, she notes when she sees the shadow cast on the floor and back of the entrance wall. Not some apparition or a mist of an image, which is curious. Then, there are her features. She’s very tan, similar Christen’s own skin tone. Her hair is down today, the brown hair is long and lays over one shoulder. She notices a thick, one inch long transverse scar on the exposed left side of her thin neck. Her arms are loosely crossed with one hand casually resting on her other forearm, showing off long, thin fingers and simple gold bracelet around her narrow wrist. She has a relaxed, alluring look about her, as if she’s very comfortable in her own skin, her surroundings and being here right now. Her eyes are brown and her expression makes Christen want to look deeper into those eyes. There’s a deep intelligence behind those eyes as they bore into her, yet the feel of her gaze isn’t critical. It’s contemplative, yet also curious and complimented with long lashes. She has a narrow nose, similar to most Egyptians and her lips are chapped and slightly plump. She has a jawline that is sharp, suited to her thin frame. Her lower legs are muscular and so are the leg muscles she can see just above her knees before the tunic cuts off her view. Her ankles are solid with thin toes and short nails.
When she moves, it startles her, making Christen flinch in her place on the floor. The woman chuckles and gracefully eases down to sit across from her, kneeling down with her rear resting on her calves, letting her hands fall easily into her lap, looking at her inquisitively.
”What is your name?” Christen questions her in Coptic as she looks at her. Those eyes are amazing she thinks now that she has a close up view. In the powerful lighting in the tomb, Christen can see how warm her brown eyes are with flecks of lighter yellows and gold.
”I am known as Sitre In, daughter of Jefri, nurse to Hatshepsut,” she replies softly, her voice low and gentle.
”My name is Christen Press,” She extends her hand to shake, ”It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Sitre In looks at Christen’s hand curiously and then slowly lifts her hand to lightly grasp hers. Immediately Christen feels a charge shoot through her body, not enough to make her flinch, yet enough to send a warmth through her all the way to her toes and she smiles at the feeling.
”This is a typical introductory custom,” she explains, giving her a soft smile. She gives Sitre In’s hand a gentle squeeze and then releases it and draws her hand back. Sitre In returns her smile and nods, retracting her hand and glancing down at it as if she too felt what Christen did. She lets it settle back in her lap. Christen notes how cool Sitre In’s hand felt, it felt real. Solid. As if she was a living being.
”May I kindly inquire as to what it is you are doing here?” Sitre In politely asks, slightly tilting her head as she looks at Christen with interest. Her question isn’t asked with anger, just pure curiosity.
”My team and I here are to learn more about her highness, Hatshepsut,” she explains, ”we are examining her belongings and trying to find the remaining ones that have been lost or hidden.”
Sitre In’s brows furrows and she’s slightly frowning. ”Why are you disturbing the holy mausoleum of the King?”
Christen contemplates her answer carefully. ”We study the dead to learn about how they lived. Your society is fascinating and so advanced.”
Sitre In purses her lips as she considers this. ”Did you not consider our needs for these items to successfully navigate the afterlife?” she questions honestly, without contempt or anger.
Christen nods, ”It has been nearly four thousand years since your society was thriving,” she answers carefully, seeing Sitre In blink at the date with slight surprise,
”We assumed that the process of transitioning from death to living in the Field of Reeds would be completed and there would be no need for these items.” Christen explains, hoping she’s convincing. She feels uncomfortable being confronted about it.
The ancient Egyptian culture had a set of complex beliefs concerning death and the afterlife which evolved and was refined over the years. In Hatshepsut’s time, the Egyptians envisioned the afterlife as a continuation of one’s earthly life. To them, death was not a final state, it was a transitional stage in the cycle of life leading to the world of living in the world of the dead. There were strict protocols for burials and funerary rituals to ensure the dead could continue their existence in the world beyond.
They believed that preserving the body through mummification, the corpse was transformed into a new body that was destined to rise again. The preservation of the body was essential because it was believed that the soul and individual personality of the deceased continued to live in the body after death. The body was needed for the soul to exist.
Organs were removed to preserve the body, the parts individually placed in canopic jars and remained within the tomb. Only the heart remained within the mummified body for it was connected to the soul. Food, weapons, money, prayer books and personal belongings were all placed with the dead, as they would need these things to navigate the afterlife. At times, favorite pets were mummified to accompany the dead and in special cases, servants were sacrificed to aide the dead as well. Most of the time, the servants were not exactly willingly sacrificed as evidence has shown. They were murdered. There were some instances of beloved servants willingly choosing to aide their master on their path to the Field of Reeds.
The route to the afterlife was complex and dangerous. The deceased had to pass a series of difficult tests in the Underworld, aided by instructions from the Book of the Dead, protective amulets and talismans they were buried with. Final judgement took place before Osiris, the god of the dead. In the final judgement, the deceased’s heart was weighed against the feather of truth. If the scale balanced, Osiris permitted the deceased to enter the Field of Reeds, a paradise and world of plenty. If the heart was heavy with sin, the crocodile headed monster Ammit, the Eater of the Dead, would devour the deceased and their afterlife ended with torment and shame.
Christen is worried that Sitre In feels upset by the team and her being there, pilfering their belongings. Interrupting their spiritual journey. ”We do not mean any disrespect!” she says hurriedly, ”We do not mean to commit sacrilege.”
Sitre In nods slowly, taking a moment to look around the tomb. She licks her chapped lips and then turns to looks at her. ”I was called here from the Field of Reeds,” she states mildly, as if she’s unsure why she’s here.
Christen is dumbstruck, she doesn’t know what to think. Sitre In suddenly tilts her head and then stands up. ”We can continue this another time.” she states hurriedly and exits the tomb, leaving Christen alone and sitting there in shock from her revelation. A moment later she hears the unmistakable sound of the shale shifting under the weight of footsteps. She hurriedly stands up and moves towards the entrance.
“Christen?” a voice calls, “It’s Jurgen,” he announces.
She abruptly pokes her head out of the tomb and sees him approaching, “Oh, hi,” she says breathlessly.
He looks at her, “Are you alright?”
“Oh, yes, yes,” she dismisses his concern as he follows her into the tomb. “I was just taking a little break,” she explains, “and lost track of time.”
He smiles, “It’s easy to do here,” he says easily, looking around. “Find anything interesting?”
She nearly rolls her eyes with his unknowing loaded questions, but recovers quickly and shares with him her work on the panels and conclusion they must be in two pieces. “I could not see anything myself but I was thinking,” she continues, “perhaps you could shoot each panel with the thermal gun? Maybe see if there’s any slight draft or temperature difference?”
He nods and sets his large camera bag on the floor.
“Also, isn’t there something about shooting a photo in the negative that might show details unseen to the naked eye?” she asks him.
“Oh, yes,” he nods enthusiastically, “I can do that,” he grins, “it’ll be wild,”
She grins at his excitement, “Awesome,” she says. She’s feeling conflicted and slightly panicked about it now, the chance of finding a new tomb or corridor. She wonders when she’ll see Sitre In again. She wonders if the woman is upset with the group being here. She shouldn’t be. This isn’t her tomb, she was buried at KV60. Is it because of Hatshepsut? Is she going to try and stop their efforts? Even though she feels safe around her, can she trust it? Is Sitre In here to defend her Queen or King so to speak? Why was she pulled out of her version of Heaven to come here?
Jurgen is talking to himself as he sorts through his gear, finding the proper camera and lens for the photos he will shoot. “I thought I’d shoot this how you want and then we can go back and get lunch,” he looks over his shoulder at her.
“Yeah, sounds good,” she says half-heartedly, “I’m going to pack up,” she mumbles, bending to pick up her notebook. She thinks about how Hatshepsut chose to be King and ruler while she raised Thutmose III until he was of age to take the throne. Are they truly disturbing the ancients in their afterlife? Are those rumors and tales of curses true?
She’s in her head during lunch, only half listening to the table talk as she thinks about her short exchange with Sitre In. She’s doubting her sanity at this point, it sounds ridiculous to think it even happened, now that she’s sitting here, out of the tomb and in the daylight, enjoying a wonderfully prepared lamb dish. But how Sitre In stated she was called to the tomb from being in the Field of Reeds, which would equate to being in Heaven for Christians, it makes her think. Are they disturbing the dead?
“How about it, Christen?” Shani asks her eagerly.
“Oh, sorry,” she shakes her head, “I wasn’t listening, just thinking.” She straightens up, “How about what?”
Vero elbows her gently from her left side, “We’ve booked rooms at the Hilton Luxor for this weekend,” she explains, “plenty of room for you if you’d like to join us?”
“They have a pool bar,” Jurgen grins, “and a dance floor,” he shimmies in his chair.
“I’m getting a massage,” Brigid adds, rubbing the back of her neck, “and maybe a pedicure,”
Christen frowns and gives them a shrug, “I think I’m obligated to stay here,” she explains apologetically, “but I was thinking,” she says, “while you’re there, check out the other hotels,” she gives them a smile, “or let me know if the Hilton is the best. We’ll plan another break for all of us.” She gives them another smile, “I know Ari would love to hang out, he tells the best stories.”
They seem satisfied with her counter proposal with only Vero looks slightly disappointed. Christen knows she’s got to be on her toes around that one.
Her body is refreshed by the short nap she’d taken. Somehow, she was able to relax enough to sleep for an hour and a half, although her mind begins to stir with thoughts as soon as she wakes. She wishes Ari was here for her to speak with. Surely, he’s had to face the question of religion versus preserving artifacts. She shakes it off and prepares for her afternoon session down in the tomb. She still wonders if Sitre In’s purpose is to dissuade them from their work.
While still in bed, she grabs her phone, intent on finding some answers to a few of her burning questions. She’s curious about the jolt she felt when her and Sitre In shook hands. She’s never experienced that before and wonders if it’s possible that Sitre In is her soulmate. She opens her bookmark she’s kept on her phone about soulmates, also wondering what happens if your soulmate hasn’t yet spoken your soul mark yet. She wonders what you actually feel your soulmate when you meet them. The answers are somewhat comforting. Yes, you can feel your soulmate and begin to have that deep unexplainable connection when you’re in their presence. You certainly can fall in love with them as well. There are a few situations when your soulmate might not speak your mark. One of them being their own emotional baggage, another of timing and finally your soulmate being oblivious.
Christen is slowly beginning to believe that she has found her soulmate in the strange woman. She doesn’t know why and she certainly feels it’s unusual to say the least. But she can’t deny these feelings she has when she’s in the woman’s presence. First, the handshake. There is no denying something happened between them when they shook hands. Christen has never felt a rush go through her body like that before and she’s met plenty of people in her line of work. This was something special. Something significant. Each time they’ve spoken, though short and always interrupted, Christen can feel herself growing attached to her. Yearning to be with her. But why wouldn’t the woman speak her words back to her, she wonders. Christen discounts the last one, she feels Sitre In isn’t oblivious, the woman was a nurse in her life, she would have a level head. Her past emotional baggage and timing seems to be the case. Oh, and that one little detail of maybe being a ghost. That is probably a huge factor as well. She Googles “when your soulmate is a ghost” and the returns are mostly links to fanfiction stories and a few parapsychology articles leaning towards having a mental illness. That’s no help.
She considers calling someone, maybe Dr. Nandi or one of her sisters. Maybe one of her friends. Perhaps it would be good to talk to someone about this. Maybe not mention the part of Sitre In being a ghost, they might think she’s absolutely nuts, went insane in the heat of the desert. She decides to think about it later, she’s got to get moving now. She’s still uncertain if Sitre In is her soulmate or if she’s just feeling the affects of being around the supernatural. She’s going to have to devote some time to seriously consider what is going on. She’s a woman of science and she’s not equipped with the emotions she’s feeling with this enigma of a woman.
The thought of it being an environmental issue crosses her mind, perhaps she’s more sensitive to the CO2 levels in the corridor and tomb than others. Then she remembers the oxygen indicators that Asim and Manu have in the corridor and tombs and how no alerts have been issued. Maybe she’s just unconsciously harboring these feelings of guilt or confusion about taking religious items and it’s manifesting itself in Sitre In appearing to her. Maybe it’s all in her head. Perhaps she really should talk to Ari and get his opinion about this. Maybe he has heard of this happening to others.
Not getting any closer to a believable answer and not willing to explore her possible mental issues further, Christen leaves her bed to prepare for the afternoon session.
Jurgen excitedly finds her near the mess hall, grabbing her elbow excitedly. “I’ve found something!” he exclaims, “On the photos!”
That causes a stir as he leads her into the hall where the group is huddled around a monitor. They step back for Christen to sit down in the chair to view it. On the large screen is an image in negative of a panel, enlarged to clearly show a thin seam in the limestone.
“They are in two pieces,” Christen whispers in wonder. She looks up and around to everyone gathered and grins, “this is good,” she nods happily.
“What’s next Christen?” Shani wants to know.
“Well,” Christen pushes back from the table and stands, “I’d like prints of these,” she states, “and we’ll get measurements for the exact locations of each seam that’s shown.” She holds out a finger, then sticks out another one, “then Asim and the guys will evaluate how they are attached.” A third finger, “We compare the sonar to which panel has a possible opening, if any.” A fourth finger, “And hopefully we get the panel off and find plaster behind it.”
Finding a plaster wall was an excellent sign of an entrance being covered. Behind the plaster, which usually was tinted to match the rock color to hide it, would usually be bricks used to seal the vault or tomb or new corridor. They wouldn’t know what they had until they got it opened.
“Should we cancel this weekend?” Hasani asks prudently, “It wouldn’t be a problem.”
Christen looks to Asim who shrugs, “I wouldn’t foresee us being at the point to make any attempts at gaining access until next week,” he informs them.
“It would take us time to remove any panel properly,” Dakarai adds, “and we’d have to move the existing relics and stands in the tomb for safety.”
“We can’t do anything until Ari is back with the permits,” Shani states.
“It’s settled,” Christen nods, “the weekend plans stay in place,” she announces, “and we’ll still need your work on the panels, your input might locate the one which should be removed.”
The students nod, promising their best effort.
She pulls her cellphone out of her pocket and smiles, “I’m going to text Ari the news,” she wiggles her eyebrows. “Jurgen, would you email him the images?” He nods and moves to the computer.
Ziyad laughs heartfully, “Listen close,” he directs, “we’ll probably hear him yelling from Cairo!”
They all laugh, knowing that Cairo is over six hundred kilometers from their location.
After she sends the message, she turns to Asim, “What do you want to do?”
“Come with you and take measurements, locate the seams,” he states, “Dakarai and Manu will continue outside and Ziyad and I will assist you.”
She nods, “Let’s meet at the car in thirty, okay?” They nod.
“I’m coming with to film this!” Jurgen adds.
They’re on the fourth of seven panels when Christen catches the familiar scent. She turns to look at the entrance while Asim and Ziyad are searching for the seam to see her leaning against the entrance, a passive look on her face as she watches the men work. Her eyes find Christen’s and she holds her gaze. Christen offers her a timid smile that grows when Sitre In responds with one. She lets out a sigh of relief that she doesn’t look angry and directs herself back to the men who call to her to confirm the seam they have discovered. They begin to use painter’s tape to mark the location while Christen marks it on the photo, scribbling down the exact numbers of centimeters of it’s location.
She’s involved with the next three panels, only able to glance back a few times to see she’s still in the entrance, looking on with curiosity. Christen is very aware of Jurgen and his camera and makes sure to not be obvious. She finds herself with more questions as to how Asim, Ziyad and Jurgen seem to have no clue of her presence. She smiles as she works, knowing Sitre In there. She feels comfortable and not at all claustrophobic in the small tomb.
“We should get the air indicator and the tools,” Ziyad nudges Asim and he nods in agreement with Jurgen. Asim turns to Christen, “We’ll be back in a few,” he states, “smoke break and get the tools,”
“Sounds good,” she nods. She holds her breath as the three men exit the tomb, her jaw dropping open as they walk past an amused Sitre In as if she wasn’t there. Sitre In turns to look at Christen and gives her a soft smile. She enters the room and walks over to the panels and examines them.
Christen takes this time to examine Sitre In again, noticing her broad shoulders and how her tunic trails down to her thin waist and narrow hips. Christen realizes she’s attracted to her, there’s something about her that makes her want to know her. Be with her. She can’t explain it and she knows it’s crazy to feel this about what she can only believe is a ghost. Be these feelings are there and they are growing.
Christen waits until the echoes of the men in the corridor begin to fade before she speaks. “Sitre In,” she begins and watches her turn to face her and holding up a hand, palm forward.
”Sitre In is my appointed name, my title.” she says quietly, ”Please, call me by my given name. I am Tobin.”
Tobin, Christen considers, liking the sound of the unusual name and wondering what it means.
Tobin explains before she can ask. ”It means ‘She Who Is Calm’ I’m told,” she gives her a shy smile which Christen finds adorable.
”I like it,” Christen smiles, ”it suits you.”
Tobin smiles wider at her and then lets her head fall bashfully.
”I want to explain something to you,” Christen states quietly, not wanting her voice to carry up the corridor, ”Why we are here, doing this. It’s not to rob the tomb of it’s treasures, it’s to study what your life was like during your time.”
She goes on to give an abbreviated explanation the significance of studying past cultures, consisting of studying the foods they ate and how they dressed, how they constructed their tombs and honored their dead. The religions they believed in and it played a role in their death culture. She went on to quickly share with how important it was that they left so much history of their leaders for them to learn how they ruled and what their civilization was like.
Tobin listens carefully, looking at her thoughtfully as Christen speaks earnestly in hushed tones. The sound of echoes emanates down the corridor as Christen finishes.
”Can we continue this later? Perhaps tonight?” Tobin asks, regarding her seriously.
Christen nods, ”Of course, we’re going to try to figure out which panel to remove and how to remove it.”
Tobin glances over at the panels as the noise in the corridor gets louder. ”Do you know which one you’ll choose?” Christen shakes her head.
”What number is regarded highly in my culture? Do you know?” Her eyes showing a glint of playfulness.
”Seven.” Christen replies with certainty.
Tobin glances over at the seventh panel in the far corner and then turns back to her, a knowing look on her face. ”With good reason,”
”Is there something behind it?” Christen whispers excitedly.
Tobin shrugs and looks amused, ”I was here when they dug this,” she arches an eyebrow and gives her a mysterious smile, ”I would look there.” She lifts a hand and leaves the tomb.
Jurgen enters excitedly chattering about filming them look at the panels and how he thinks it will be such great footage. He begins to arrange the lights how he wants them, leaving Christen standing there as she tries to collect her thoughts.
Had Tobin just told her another chamber was behind the seventh panel?
XXXX