Bright, midday sunlight flooded the entrance of the temple. A breeze of warm desert air brought with it the scents of fresh, sweet water, sand and heat. Nefertari and Horus weren't anywhere in Simon's blurred field of vision when he opened his eyes, but he was sure that something must have woken him.
He felt as though he had spent the night in a damp, dank basement, which he now reckoned wasn't that far from the truth. The inside of the temple was tropical and balmy, the air heavy with humidity. For moments, Simon could not determine what had woken him, but then a set of voices echoed into the room from the outside.
“ … is not a spy for Set?” said Horus' voice. He sound irritable, and a mental image of the teenage boy's scowl immediately materialized in Simon's head.
“Does he look like it to you?” came the impatient response. Nefertari.
“No, he looks weak,” responded Horus dryly, “but that could misleading.”
Were they talking about him? As thought he had asked to be kidnapped by a crazy princess and her pet boy...
Simon propped himself up on his forearms to listen, noticing as he did so that his wrists had been untied. There were angry red burns where the rope had cut into his skin, and he balled his hands into fists, his temper rising. At that moment, he realized that he was lying no longer lying on the stone ground either, but a mattress of woven reeds. Confused by this act of kindness from his kidnappers, he nearly missed Nefertari's response.
“... you don't have to like it,” she said.
“What if it's a trap?” said Horus mutinously. “What if he's been sent here to – to lure us out? What if we've made ourselves vulnerable by letting him stay? He could be communicating with my uncle right now, telling him where we are.” Simon thought he could hear the way his scowl had just deepened.
“It's a risk we have to take. I have to take. You don't have to come with me,” said Nefertari, with a hint of impatience.
“I will not let you do this alone,” Horus flared up at once. “The suggestion alone is –“ Horus took a sharp breath, as though to steady himself and cool his hot head, then stopped abruptly with a noise that sounded as if he had bitten his tongue to stop the angry retort. “Of course I will. Where you go, I go, there can't be another way,” he said instead.
Nefertari was silent for a long moment in which Simon felt his eyelids growing heavier again. Dimly, he wondered how he was supposed to take the boy's last statement … Somewhere in the background, he could hear their stream blubbering gently. The others had moved further from the entrance, still talking, and he focused again, trying to hear what they were saying...
“ … don't like this any more than you do, but the jackal is our best bet,” said Nefertari's voice. And then everything was quiet again, except for the jabbering stream.
When Simon awoke the second time, it was already late in the day. He blinked blearily into the dim light of the temple, searching for his spectacles, found them lying on the stone floor next to him, and put them on his sweaty nose. A cluster of shadows was moving gradually at the entrance, afternoon sunlight illuminated the pool in the center of their shelter, making the translucent waves glimmer as though their surface were suffused with diamond powder.
Simon was still lying on the reef mattress he had seen earlier, found, with great astonishment, that his shoulder had been tended to and dressed in clean bandages, and his captors were nowhere to be seen. After what he had overheard during midday, he was certain that a new plan had been formed without his consent. He contemplated this thought for a while, remembering only snippets of the conversation...
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There had been something about him, Simon, being someone's spy, and he thought he could distinctly recall Horus saying something about a trap … That's right, Horus had been worried Simon would report their whereabouts to someone... This was likely the same someone the two fugitives were hiding from... And Nefertari had mentioned a jackal … Simon felt his forehead crease. That did not make any sense at all, especially when he couldn't remember the context in which the girl had mentioned the animal.
Simon's head started buzzing again. He was not sure any more whether he wanted to know what the others had in mind for him after all. What really mattered now was getting away from them. The faster this getaway could be brought to fruition, the better.
Without a watch, he had had no idea what time it was, but decided now was as good as any other to get up and try his luck. Everything was quiet around the temple. It seemed as though he was alone …
He had nearly made it to the entrance when he became aware of two bare, bronze feet with golden cuffs around the ankles dangling from the doorway. Horus. It would have been too good to be true if they'd just left him unattended. After all, he was a prisoner.
Simon sighed inaudibly and moved back toward the basin in the middle of the room. He would have to figure out a plan... Prove to his captors that he was no threat, that there was nothing to be gained from holding him captive... Gain their trust somehow, wait for an opportunity to present itself, and then make his escape before they even noticed what he was doing.
Simon inspected the temple's inside more closely now, and spotted his bag lying open next to Nefertari's sleeping niche. He went over to the shredded remains and searched them thoroughly, but it was empty except for the change of clothes. Nefertari could keep the rest of his belongings, the July issue of Archaeology Today, his water bottle, and sunglasses, for all he cared. Though whatever she intended to do with the magazine and the shades was beyond him.
There was nothing else to be found in the girl's sleeping area, except another reed mattress and some variously shaped bowls, at the sight of which he, Simon, realized how hungry he was. Were his captors trying to starve him?
Only then he remembered that he had brought one more item with him and felt around his neck for the hourglass pendant, which was his talisman. Apparently, the others hadn't thought to search him, which seemed like a rather grave error, considering that they had only just discussed how he was somewhat dangerous. On the other hand, he couldn't pretend he wasn't delighted by their obvious lack of common sense. It felt oddly comforting to know that this treasure at least was still his.
Simon rolled the pendant slowly in his fingers until it lay still on his palm and he could see the half-A pattern on its top. He was certain that whatever had happened to him was somehow connected to the accessory and that symbol, whose meaning remained resolutely out of his reach. Thinking back, he was also convinced that the half-A had glowed inside that metal archway. And hadn't his interaction with the bow activated it somehow?
Simon closed his eyes. In his mind's eye, he was pressing the hourglass into the cavity on its right side again, just under that weird control panel. He could see clearly how the accessory had lit up and the metal frame begun to crackle, and the blue mist inside it revolve … There had definitely been something futuristic about the device … It must have been some sort of – a sort of time portal. A means of travelling to another millennium … He had seen them often enough in those science fiction shows on television Morgan was so partial to...
But there was no way to test his speculations this far away from the archway. His eyelids fluttered open again and he gazed at the hourglass intently, hoping for any kind of confirmation, anything to verify his theory …
“OUCH!”
Simon's left hand had seared painfully. He dropped the hourglass, which bounced back onto his chest listlessly. Then he peeled back the sleeve of his shirt and examined the skin underneath. The sunburn on his arm was glaring at him in a bright, vicious red; in fact, it wasn't so much a sunburn as a violent rash – just what he needed now, on top of all the kidnapping, running, and hiding...
There was nothing he could do about it now … Surely it was too much to presume he would find medicine here in this rotting old temple … Couldn't expect a bunch of layabouts to carry first aid kits or anything either … And he was filthy, too, and there was no telling how long his privacy would last...
He quickly retrieved a clean shirt from his bag, then went over to the stone steps that led down into the shallow, excesswater-filled pool in the middle of the room. He waded in as deep as his shorts would allow, removed his old shirt and washed himself quickly, the cool water on his tortured skin soothing and highly relaxing. Once he had cleaned up as much as was possible with his limited means, he put on the new shirt, washed the old one, then laid it to dry on the warm ray of sunlight that still lit the entrance.
