Ahkmenrah snuck a glance at the disheveled girl beside him who, despite the fact that she was a whole head shorter, seemed to have no difficulty matching his pace. Her mouth was set in a permanent "O" of awe as she gazed about the rooms they passed through, her eyes bright with wonder as she took in each and every detail. He watched as she craned her neck to stare into the light fixture above them, then, blinking, stumbled as she rubbed the imaginary stars from her eyes.
"It is amazing, is it not? How man has managed to harness the power of the sun in such small containers?" He asked, unable to suppress the smile creeping across his face as she nodded absentmindedly, once again trying to peer into the upcoming light as they walked by. She blinked again, but was less surprised by the sudden darkness clouding her vision as she looked away.
"How?"
"Electricity. It's attributed to a man named Benjamin Franklin, who tied a key to the string of a kite as an experiment and..." He trailed off, noticing Agate's blank stare. He remembered then that she had no knowledge of kites or science, unlike him, and so he searched his mind for a simple way to explain the phenomena. "Well, the energy is turned into light. It's... it's like a small fire, only nothing actually burns. Er, well..."
His face flushed in an extremely un-pharaohish manner as he stumbled for an explanation; thankfully, though, Agate's attention was directed elsewhere, back to the ceiling lights rather than to his red face. Ahkmenrah's moment of embarassment was short lived, as they soon reached the entrance to his Egyptology exhibit, and all thoughts of electricity and lights were replaced with barely concealed glee at being able to share his heritage with someone new.
Though it had been almost a year since Larry had freed him from his sarcophagus, Ahkmenrah had not had as many opportunities as he would have liked to share his history with those around him. While he spent most of his time with Larry and Teddy, they were frequently preoccupied with shepherding the other exhibits and therefore too busy to pay attention to him. Sacajawea and Dexter would listen, but it was mostly out of politeness rather than actual interest, which took most of the fun out of it. Nicky and Octavius enjoyed stories about battles and gods, but over the course of the last few months, Ahk felt as though he had run out of wars and legends to recount to them. He wanted someone to listen to him recount tales of how wise his father had been, how perceptive his mother, and how grand their life; tales of his own world, what he himself had loved, and what he himself had lost, not stories of glorified rulers who had lived centuries before him.
He shook his head, scolding himself. Such selfish thoughts were unbefitting a pharaoh such as him. His mother would be ashamed.
Looking up, he held out his arm to alert Agate that he had stopped. "We're here."
He turned to see Agate's reaction to the ornate doorway leading into the dimly lit hallway. While she had managed to keep her jaw from once again falling slack, her eyes still widened as she took in the large stones, etched with numerous hieroglyphics and images depicting gods and events. Taking a tentative step forward, she reached out her hand to touch the carvings, then pulled away suddenly, glancing at him sheepishly as though she expected a reprimand.
"Hieroglyphics," he explained, reaching out to trace the circular shape of a sun. "Egyptian writing. Much more interesting than simple English letters, in my opinion. It's a pity no one uses them anymore."
His voice faded out as he spoke, leaving him to wonder if he even voiced that last sentence, or merely mouthed it. He shook his head to clear it, then smiled his most winning smile at Agate, hoping she would overlook his temporary nostalgia. Her mind was elsewhere, trying to wrap itself around the countless images inscribed on the pillars leading into the shadows, through which were barely visible walls and more pillars covered with similar inscriptions. She reached out once more to touch the stone, tracing her fingers along the images as she studied them.
"Do the pictures tell a story?" She asked, absentmindedly stroking the grooves carved into the stone. "No one knows how to write where I come from, but we've heard of people who do. They write stories."
"These hieroglyphics tell many stories." He pointed to a group of stones right inside the doorway, where just enough light passed through to illuminate a large army being led by a pharaoh. "Do you see those pictures over there? The ones with the soldiers marching off to battle?"
"Yes. Is the pharaoh supposed to be you?"
"No, it is my father, Merenkahre the Great. He conquered many people, expanding our kingdom and earning our people great wealth. It was my wish to grow to be just as great a pharaoh as him." He stared at his father's profile, remembering his family and his life in Egypt. Time had dimmed his memories, blurring and confusing the people and places he knew so well, but he could still recall his parents' faces, their voices, their smiles... No, he shouldn't lose himself to nostalgia again. He was a prince. He must be strong.
Still, he missed them dearly.
He turned to Agate, expecting her to still be studying the hieroglyphics. Instead, she was turned toward him, her mouth turned down in a slight frown, her eyes sad as they searched his. He knew that look well. It was one his mother wore when he was sick. It was a look of pity.
Standing up straighter, he smiled again, though it was pained and wobbly and he knew it would hide nothing. "Come," he said, eager to change the subject, "there's still the rest of the tomb for you to see."
Agate watched him out of the corner of her eye. His voice had faded out once more, though in his eyes she read the words he was unable to share. He missed his father, his home, his people, just as she did. Only, he had been missing his world for far longer than the few hours she had been missing hers. She wondered just how long.
"Come," his voice wobbled as he plastered a feeble smile to his face. "There's still the rest of the tomb for you to see."
He turned, the train of his robe flowing about his feet as he passed through the doorway into the dark hallway. Agate hesitated, but squared her shoulders and followed. They passed giant stone pillars, as well as two large statues with human bodies and heads that looked like wolves. Agate shivered, remembering the howls that had chased her to her death. She remembered how the moon had been hidden by the trees, how black the night, and the shadowy hallway suddenly felt a lot longer. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw one of the statues watching her as she passed. Fighting the urge to turn and look, she quickened her pace to catch up to Ahkmenrah, whose eyes were focused ahead, though not on anything visible to her. He was remembering something, or trying not to, as his mouth had turned itself down into a slight frown. He felt her studying him and looked over, quickly changing his expression to an amiable smile that set the worst of her nerves at ease.
"Here we are." He gestured for her to pass by him through the doors, and she found herself in a room much smaller than the others they had passed through to get here. The light in this chamber was just barely enough to illuminate the heavily decorated walls, but it was more than what had been in the hallway, for which she was grateful. Hieroglyphics and other such carvings spread out around the room, continuing on and on until they disappeared into the shadowy corners. Glass boxes lined the sides of the room, holding intricate objects of every shape and size. Some were glittering with gold and jewels; others were dull, worn by the many years that had passed since their prime. Agate studied them, trying to guess how long that had been, but was distracted by the small markings covering the glass box itself.
"Are these... writings?" She asked, reaching out to touch one such image: a curving letter than reminded her of a snake.
"Yes, that is English, the language most commonly spoken here in America."
"English..." she mused, "They're not as nice to look at as the hie... hier..."
She blushed, hoping Ahkmenrah would overlook her difficulty with the word. He did.
"Yes, our hieroglyphics are much more dignified and pleasing to look at. When I was a child, I would stare at them for hours, enthralled by the stories they told. Sometimes I still do." He smiled. "There is more than just writing to be seen here, though. These displays are full of artifacts recovered from my tomb when the archaeologists excavated it. Ah, archaeologists are scientists- people- who travel around to different places to unearth and study things from the past. Things like me. Like you."
Agate spun to face him. "What do you mean?"
"They dug though sand and stone to find my tomb. They similarly dug into the ground to find you. Then they studied you to find out when and how you had lived, and what the world had been like when you were alive. It is a very intricate process, one that I much admire, as it-"
"They... found me? In the bogs? They found my body in the bogs?" Agate's voice rose to a pitch reserved for panic as she imagined them pulling her limp form from the murky water, slime streaming off of her clothes and hair. Would she have still had her hair, or would it and her skin have fallen away by then? Did they have to pull each of her bones out of the mud, or...
"It is an honor to be studied by archaeologists." Ahkmenrah replied, misinterpreting her tone of voice, "It isn't the most flattering way to be remembered, I'll grant you that, but it teaches modern generations about past ways of life that have been forgotten. And the past should never be forgotten."
Agate gulped. She needed air.
"I don't feel well."
"Ah, um, you can rest here, if you wish." Ahkmenrah gestured to a short table sitting in the middle of the room. It was the same table that Agate had been avoiding, for she knew what was resting upon it. The shining gold and intricate carvings covering it did nothing to hide its true purpose: it was a coffin, she knew, and she would not go near it. When she had been alive, she had seen more coffins than anyone else, save her father, and she had despised them for taking her family from her. Even after her death, she still despised them. Maybe even more, knowing that she herself belonged in one.
"N-no." She shook her head, avoiding his eyes. "I just need to walk a bit. Out there."
"All right." He asked no questions as he led her back out of the room, through the dimly lit hallway and into the much busier one. Agate breathed a sigh of relief as she looked around, her eyes readjusting to the change in lighting. Glancing back into the dark hallway, she was sure she saw two pairs of yellow eyes watching them- without a doubt the strange statues she had noticed earlier- but was relieved when they showed no sign of following.
Ahkmenrah led her back the same way they had come. They came to the large room where they had been greeted by Dexter, though the little creature was now nowhere to be found, and veered off to the side of the room that was less populated. She saw Ahkmenrah gesture to someone, but didn't look to see who. She was more concerned with focusing on her spinning surroundings. Sitting, rather than walking, was what she should have chosen to do. Fortunately, Ahkmenrah noticed her predicament and helped her to a nearby bench.
"You didn't like my tomb?" He asked, much to Agate's chagrin. She shook her head, her face downcast. "That's all right. Most people don't care for it, either. They find it dark and dreary, and feel uncomfortable being so near my sarcophagus. Er, my coffin, as you would say."
"Doesn't it make you uncomfortable?" She asked.
"Sometimes. For years after arriving here, I was trapped in my sarcophagus. Night after night, I could barely move. I couldn't see anything. I hated it. Even now, every morning when I climb back in my sarcophagus, I remember that, and..." He shook the thought from his head. "But now it's different. Now I am free, and I have friends, and I know that as long as they are here, that will never happen again. Knowing that, I don't have to be afraid of the dark, or the sarcophagus. N-not that I was afraid of the dark, or anything. Just that I didn't care for it very much. Pharaohs aren't scared of the dark, you know. Or sarcophagi."
Agate studied his face as he rambled on. He didn't seem to be one to stumble over words; rather, all that he had said and done before had been proper and precise, if not a bit hesitant. It hadn't been hard to imagine him as a king then. Now, blushing in embarrassment as he messed up his words, he seemed to be anything but. She looked at him and, in place of a ruler, saw a boy. It startled her how young he really was; he couldn't have been much older than her.
He felt her watching him and turned away, distracting himself with smoothing the orange fabric of his robe. Then, conscious that his fiddling was just as distracting as his stumbling, he quickly stood and brushed himself off. A silent minute passed, then a strangely dressed man carrying a small, yellow cup appeared. He handed it to Ahkmenrah, who in turn handed it to Agate.
"I thought you might like some water." He explained, his face still turned away from hers.
"Thank you." She drank. Then, unsure of what to do next, offered, "I'm feeling better now."
"Good. I am glad."
They shared another moment of silence, during which Ahkmenrah took the empty cup form her hand and dropped it into a black box sitting close to the wall.
"Would you like to continue our walk?" He ventured, "We don't have to go back to my tomb, if you don't want to. There's plenty of other things to see."
"Yes, please." Agate agreed, thankful for something to do. The room spun as she stood, but quickly righted itself. Though her mind was still addled with all that had happened since she awoke, she was determined to learn as much about this new land as she could, if only to distract her from the unsavory memories that were still too recent to forget.