Six

Some many years previous...

To meet the most interesting people, one had only to alter one's setting. This wasn't the primary reason Lady Amelia Parker decided to travel the Nile by river boat, but it was certainly a benefit.

Most of the passengers were British or European, though an American couple and a gentleman from India were also present. All were wealthy enough to travel, of course, but some definitely appeared to be rather better off. The number of trunks each traveler brought seemed to be an accurate indication of status. The fine Englishwoman traveling with her son might as well have brought an entire estate with her. The son, set to managing the luggage—or rather managing the valet who had been brought along to manage the luggage—seemed to be eternally grumbling about the situation, but continued to accede to the woman's wishes in everything. By contrast, a young, simply dressed French couple seemed to have but one case between them, and gave the impression that they had scrimped and saved to be able to make the journey. The experience was all, and not the accoutrements. Amelia understood.

As a young woman traveling alone, Amelia attracted attention among the passengers. She did not reveal her own rank as minor aristocracy, to avoid tedious conversations. Nevertheless, she became the subject of much curiosity. From the women, she received interest and varying degrees of shock. One girl of about twelve decided to follow her everywhere and ask questions until her mother demanded her daughter to keep away from that woman. From the men—deep protective impulses. Was there anything they could do for her? She need only ask. They would leap to her aid, instantly, with great enthusiasm. Oppressive chivalry.

She managed to have normal conversations with a dapper gentleman from Belgium who was willing to speak with her about archeology and hieroglyphics, and not suggest that she must be in desperate need of assistance. She made sure to sit at his table for supper.

She had her own agenda. She spoke to the dining room attendants, the housekeeping staff, and the crew of the Nile Dream. What was it like growing up in Egypt? What stories did their grandparents tell? What meaning did the ancient monuments have for them in their modern lives? They seemed confused at her interest at first, but were kind.

Amelia was not here for Egyptian linen and photographs with the pyramids, camel rides and quaint marketplaces. She was here for Egyptian magic. Ancient lore. The secrets of the pharaohs and their high priests. The river cruise was meant for tourists, but it was also the best way for her to reach the temple complex at Luxor. What would she find there? She wasn't entirely sure but she planned to enjoy the quest.

Meanwhile, she had to deal with days of travel and a series of dull suppers during which she gave the blandest answers possible to the most obvious questions, spoke of other travels only in passing, and was polite rather than interested.

Then one morning, a body was discovered in the forward parlor. The fine Englishwoman's put-upon son was found sitting in a chair with a shot from a small-caliber pistol through his chest. Most of the passengers went into a series of small panics. The doctor on staff determined that the shot could not have been self-inflicted because of various details—no powder burns, wrong angle. The captain confined all to their quarters, and Amelia tried not to be annoyed that her trip to Luxor might be delayed. After all, a man had died and the mother was inconsolable.

Amelia gave an accounting of her whereabouts but seemed to have no suspicions directed toward her. The Belgian gentleman was on hand for all the interrogations. He was calm but asked such pointed questions.

As far as the conventional investigation went, Amelia could do little to help. But she acquired the blood-spattered handkerchief that had been in the victim's pocket—his belongings had been put in a box on the doctor's desk and left unsupervised—and knew several good scrying spells. What information the mundane world could not disclose, perhaps the spirit realm would reveal. Closed in her cabin, she lit candles and made the appropriate circles and marks on the floor with chalk. Each symbol represented one of the people involved in the case. The Belgian gentleman, the wealthy Englishwoman, the valet, the American couple from Boston who had been next door, the French couple who had been on the deck below, and so on. She made sure the air was still and summoned whatever trace of spirit remained on the handkerchief to give a sign. Waited to discern some meaning in the patterns of smoke rising from the tin of burning incense.

The ancient Egyptians believed they held the secrets of the afterlife. That by certain processes they could send their elite to life everlasting in the next world. Amelia was drawn to these secrets, to the vast mystery of Shakespeare's Undiscovered Country. What if one could return? Or at least send a message. If the victim could tell who had killed him...

Nothing. The smoke did not lean purposefully toward any of the markings, thereby indicating a connection, some mortal thread of doom. She had asked a question of this solid piece of matter; it was not required to give her an answer.

While the handkerchief revealed no otherworldly information, it did have a monogram, initials embroidered in one corner. Not the victim's or his mother's. Rather, Amelia believed this handkerchief belonged to the woman from Boston.

This seemed important and she wondered why no one had had searched the victim's pockets before this. Carefully and secretly, she returned the handkerchief, hoping that no one saw her and would try to implicate her in the crime.

The handkerchief was discovered and several alibis fell apart as the truth came out. In fact, the victim and the woman from Boston had arranged their itineraries to put them both on this cruise, and they planned to depart together before its end, from one of the other ports. They had carefully pretended that they did not know each other for days now, all the while waiting for the chance to escape together, after a long and secret affair. The woman had ruthlessly hidden her grief at her lover's death for days. Now, both the woman and her husband fell weeping, for entirely different reasons.

The victim's mother discovered his intention to abandon her. The person among them who had drawn the least suspicion because she had seemed like the last person to commit a murder was the one who had pulled the trigger of the gun provided her by her valet, who was also her lover. The son had told his mother that he would fire the man and have her committed to an institution for madness. So she took action. Both of them, the most dignified, respectable passengers on the ship, were led away by the authorities at the next port.

There was a lesson here.

The remaining days on the cruise felt muted and somber. The boat might not have been literally haunted, but the shadow of what had happened lingered. The stewards could not quite get all the blood up off the spot of the carpet where the man had died. They all avoided walking there, if they could.

Amelia reached Luxor at last. From a street vendor, she purchased some amulets shaped like little shabtis, figurines made of blue glaze, which if not authentic were at least charming. She wandered the ruins as long as she could. She could have spent weeks there, copying inscriptions and studying the inscrutable faces of dead pharaohs. She only had two days and tried to make the most of them.

The Belgian gentleman found her standing still, looking up at a wall full of writing, rows of hieroglyphs and images of kings etched into the stone. If she had a hundred years she would not understand it all. Certainly, the meaning of individual images could be deciphered. But the thoughts that went into composing the entire piece? The purpose felt by those who made this, imperfectly interpreted all these millennia later? One could never reach back like that.

"Mademoiselle, you seem pensive," he observed. He somehow managed to keep his pale suit crisp and clean, even in the dust and heat. "I hope the unfortunate events on this journey have not made you disinclined to travel?"

"Oh no, not at all. I just..." She sighed, because she didn't know what to say. Wasn't sure she could even explain. She would sound maudlin. "I just wonder what they were thinking, is all. Why... people do what they do."

"It is a mystery greater than the secrets of the ancients," he agreed.

They stood together and studied the record of the ages.