By Fred Saberhagen
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Sample text
And how about a camera? Scheffler had started thinking now. His brain seemed to be working a little better away from the apartment. He knew that Becky had a Polaroid, and he supposed she'd let him borrow it. The trouble, of course, was that she would be curious. Maybe he'd be able to come up with some kind of a story to satisfy her. Probably he wouldn't, though. He'd never been very good at lying. Gazing around the store and its wild assortment of junk and valuables, Scheffler briefly pondered the possibility of bringing a video camera along.
No, I have not been able to see anything of the sort. " Ptah-hotep was silent. It had occurred to him, just in the last few moments, that possibly this whole story about gold from the sky, strange metal from the gods, was nothing more than an attempt to frighten away potential tomb-robbers. What, after all, had he or Thothmes really seen of any such divine intervention? Only one peculiar cloud. The Pharaoh certainly partook of divinity, and his will was not to be thwarted lightly. But tomb-robbing was among certain people an ancient and honorable profession.
At last he stepped into the shadow of the pyramid, and stopped to wipe his forehead. Shade helped enormously against the heat. Now, just ahead of him, between him and the base itself, stretched the rows of mudbrick huts. Their gray walls were indistinguishable one from another, and their roofs were of reed bundles or dried palm leaves. These shacks, as he passed among them, looked just as unpopulated as the rest of the surrounding world. Then he was startled again, as a dog, a little gray-brown mutt without a collar, ran out from somewhere and barked at him.
