the'cleaner oxygen-rich air and lost their toxicity. By this time Royan

had fully recovered from the physical effects of the gassing, but her

confidence was shaken, and she allowed Nicholas to lead the way up the

steps that rose from the far side of the chamber.

"It's the perfect gas trap," Nicholas pointed out to her as they climbed

cautiously. "No doubt at all that Taita knew exactly what he was doing

-when he built this section of the tunnel."

"Surely he must have expected any interloper of his period to have

either succumbed to his hellish devices, lost his way in the maze, or

given up and turned back by now," she reasoned.

"Are you trying to convince me that this was Taita's last line of

defence, and that he has no more tricks in store for us? Is that it?"

Nicholas asked as he took another step upwards.

"No. Actually I was trying to convince myself, and not having much

success. I just don't trust him one little bit any more. I have come to

expect the worst from him. I expect the roof to collapse on me at any

moment, or the floor to open and drop us into a fiery furnace or

something worse." They had descended forty steps down into the se they

were now climbing was a chamber, and the stairca mirror image of that.

It rose at the same angle and the tread of each step was the same depth

and width. As their heads rose above the fortieth step, Nicholas played

the beam of the lamp down the spacious, level arcade that ened before

them, and they were dazzled by a riot of OP

colour and pattern, bright and lovely as a field' of desert blooms after

rain. The paintings covered the walls and ceiling of the arcade,

stunning in their profusion, wondrous in their execution.

"Taita!l Royan cried in a voice that quivered and broke. "These are his

paintings. There is no other artist like him, I could never mistake it.

I would know his work anywhere."

stood on the top step and gazed around in They wonder. When compared to

these, the murals in the long gallery seemed pale and stilted, the

tawdry sham that they the work of a great master, a timeless really

were. This was genius, whose art could enchant and enrapture now just as

readily as it had four thousand years ago. involuntarily, They moved

forward slowly, almost down the arcade. It was lined on each side with

small ntal bazaar. The entrance chambers, like the stalls in an orie

ched up to the to each was guarded by tall columns that rea roof. Each

column was a carved statue of one member of the pantheon of gods.

Between them they held the high vaulted ceiling suspended.

As they drew level with the first two stalls, Nicholas stopped and

squeezed her arm.

"The treasure chambers of Pharaoh he whispered.

The stalls were packed from floor to ceiling with wonderful and

beautiful things.

"The furniture store." Royan's voice was as reverential as his as she

recognized the shapes of chairs and stools and beds and divans. She went

to the nearest chamber and touched a royal throne. The arms were twining

serpents of bronze and lapis lazuli. The legs were those of lions with

claws of gold. The seat and back were chased with scenes of the hunt,

and wings of gold surmounted the high back.

Stacked behind the throne was a great Profusion of other furniture. They

recognized a screened divan, its sides enclosed in an exquisite lacework

of ebony and ivory. But there were dozens of other items besides, most

of them broken down into their separate Parts so that it was not

possible to guess what they were. They gleamed with precious metals and

coloured stones in such confusion and variety that it was too much to

take in in a single glance.

Both the alcoves on either side of the arcade were stuffed with these

marvelous collections. Royan shook her head in wonder, and Nicholas led

her on. The walls that separated the alcoves were decorated with panels

illustrate in  the Book of the Dead, and the journey of Pharaoh through

the pylons, the dangers and the trials, the demons and the monsters that

awaited him along the way.

"These are the paintings that were missing from the mock tomb in the

long gallery," Royan told him. "But just look upon the face of the king,

You can see he was a real person. Those are perfect royal portraits."

The mural beside them depicted the great god Osiris leading Pharaoh by

the hand, protecting him from the  crowded close on either hand, waiting

thei monsters that showed the face of the king as he chance to devour

him. I with a kind and gentle, if must truly have been, a man rather

weak, face.

"Look at the figures," Nicholas agreed. "They are not forward with the

right stiff wooden dolls always stepping foot. These are real men and

women. They are anatomic  and had cally correct. The artist understood

perspectiv studied the human body."

They came to the next pair of alcoves, and paused to peer into them.

"Weapons," said Nicholas. just look at that chariot The panels of the

chariot were covered with a skin of old leaf, so that it dazzled the

eye. The harness and traces the horses that would draw it into seemed

only to await and the quivers strapped to the side panels behind battle,

elins. The each tall wheel bulged with arrows and jav was emblazoned on

the side panels.

cartouche of Mamose significant vehicle were war bows Piled beside this

of electrum and bronze whose stocks were bound with wir ays of daggers

with ivory handles and gold. There were arr and swords with blades of

glistening bronze. There were racks of spears and pikes. There were

shields of bronze, the targets decorated with scenes of war and the name

of the se. There were helmets and breastplates made divine Mamo from the

skin of the crocodile, and the uniforms and regalia of the famous

regiments of Egypt dressed the life-sized the wooden statues of the king

that stood in rows against walls of the alcoves.

 a They walked on down the isle, between more paint, death of the icting

the life and the ings and murals dep ters and danking. They saw him

playing with his daugh nt son. They saw him fishing and hunting and

dling his infa isn'omarches, hawking, in council with his ministers and

dallying with his wives and concubines, and feasting with the priests of

the temple.

What a chronicle of life in ancient times," Royan breathed with awe.

"There has never been a discovery remotely like this before." Each of

the persons in the panels had obviously been drawn from life. They were

real breathing living men and women, every face and every expression

different, captured with the keen eye, the humour and he great humanity

of the artist.

"That must be Taita himself." Royan pointed out the self-portrait of the

eunuch in one of the central panels. "I wonder if he took poetic

licence, or was he truly so noble and beautiful?"

They paused to admire the face of Taita, their adversary, and looked

into his searching, intelligent eyes. Such was the skill of the artist

that he watched them as keenly as they studied him. A small, enigmatic

smile played on Taita's lips. The painting had been varnished, so that

it was perfectly preserved, as if it had been painted the day before.

Taita's lips seemed moist and his eyes gleamed softly with life.

"His complexion is fair and his eyes are blue!" Royan exclaimed.