"This isn't a good idea," says one, with deep disapproval in his voice.
"You have not supplied a better," snaps another, packing the skull in a heavy wood box, nesting it carefully among the sawdust and straw. "Besides, there is no caretaker better than a coward. He will see to it that the punishment is not undone."
The one snorts, but does not speak, and pastes the label on when the other demands. He is subordinate, after all, and his not to question why.
But it will not end well.
------
Jonathan is accustomed to getting mysterious boxes from the Council, but a skull is a new one.
He stares at the skull in its nest of packaging, then picks it up, and tosses it up and down experimentally. An old skull, though the hieroglyphics look new. He tries a spot of translating, gives up. Hieroglyphics are Evy's specialty. He'll ask her for a translation later. For now, he'll puzzle out why the Council would send him a skull. He doesn't think they'd give him a paperweight.
He holds the skull out at arm's length, dramatically, and declaims, "Alas, poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio…"
The skull opens its mouth and roars, a strange and terrifying sound he's heard only once before in his waking hours, underground in Hamunaptra, and then innumerable times in his dreams. The face from those nightmares materializes, twisted with rage and pain, roars again.
Should anyone ask, the scream Jonathan utters at that moment is an attempt to frighten the thing away, and not a remarkably good imitation of a schoolgirl confronted with a snake.
He drops the skull (which, improbably, bounces). Imhotep settles, glares at him, and rolls his eyes. "Not you! Ai, gods!" he exclaims, and stalks into the corner to sulk.
Jonathan faints.