Pyramids

wantyng to look upon yt again,” said Ashk-ur-men-tep bluntly.
    “Even so,” said the king. “It does seem a bit…”
    “The dead are equal,” said Ashk-ur-men-tep. “You, younge manne. Calle hym forth.”
    “Who, me?” said Gern. “But he was the Fir—”
    “Yes, we’ve been through all that,” said Teppicymon. “Do it. Everyone’s getting impatient. So is he, I expect.”
    Gern rolled his eyes, and hefted the hammer. Just as it was about to hiss down on the seal Dil darted forward, causing Gern to dance wildly across the ground in a groin-straining effort to avoid interring the hammer in his master’s head.
    “It’s open!” said Dil. “Look! The seal just swings aside!”
    “Youe meane he iss oute ?”
    Teppicymon tottered forward and grabbed the door of the pyramid. It moved quite easily. Then he examined the stone beneath it. Derelict and half-covered though it was, someone had taken care to keep a pathway clear to the pyramid. And the stone was quite worn away, as by the passage of many feet.
    This was not, by the nature of things, the normal state of affairs for a pyramid. The whole point was that once you were in, you were in.
    The mummies examined the worn entrance and creaked at one another in surprise. One of the very ancient ones, who was barely holding himself together, made a noise like deathwatch beetle finally conquering a rotten tree.
    “What’d he say?” said Teppicymon.
    The mummy of Ashk-ur-men-tep translated. “He saide yt ys Spooky,” he croaked.
    The late king nodded. “I’m going in to have a look. You two live ones, you come with me.”
    Dil’s face fell.
    “Oh, come on, man,” snapped Teppicymon, forcing the door back. “Look, I’m not frightened. Show a bit of backbone. Everyone else is.”
    “But we’ll need some light,” protested Dil.
    The nearest mummies lurched back sharply as Gern timidly took a tinderbox out of his pocket.
    “We’ll need something to burn,” said Dil. The mummies shuffled further back, muttering.
    “There’s torches in here,” said Teppicymon, his voice slightly muffled. “And you can keep them away from me, lad.”
    It was a small pyramid, mazeless, without traps, just a stone passage leading upward. Tremulously, expecting at any moment to see unnamed terrors leap out at them, the embalmers followed the king into a small, square chamber that smelled of sand. The roof was black with soot.
    There was no sarcophagus within, no mummy case, no terror named or nameless. The center of the floor was occupied by a raised block, with a blanket and a pillow on it.
    Neither of them looked particularly old. It was almost disappointing.
    Gern craned to look around.
    “Quite nice, really,” he said. “Comfy.”
    “No,” said Dil.
    “Hey, master king, look here,” said Gern, trotting over to one of the walls. “Look. Someone’s been scratching things. Look, all little lines all over the wall.”
    “And this wall,” said the king, “and the floor. Someone’s been counting. Every ten have been crossed through, you see. Someone’s been counting things. Lots of things.” He stood back.
    “What things?” said Dil, looking behind him.
    “Very strange,” said the king. He leaned forward. “You can barely make out the inscriptions underneath.”
    “Can you read it, king?” said Gern, showing what Dil considered to be unnecessary enthusiasm.
    “No. It’s one of the really ancient dialects. Can’t make out a blessed hieroglyph,” said Teppicymon. “I shouldn’t think there’s a single person alive today who can read it.”
    “That’s a shame,” said Gern.
    “True enough,” said the king, and sighed. They stood in gloomy silence.
    “So perhaps we could ask one of the dead ones?” said Gern.
    “Er. Gern,” said Dil, backing away.
    The king slapped the apprentice on the back, pitching him forward.
    “Damn clever idea!” he said. “We’ll just go and get one of the real early ancestors. Oh.” He sagged. “That’s no good. No one will be able to understand them—”
    “Gern!” said Dil, his eyes growing wider.
    “No, it’s all right, king,” said Gern, enjoying the newfound freedom of thought, “because, the reason being, everyone understands someone , all we have to do is sort them out.”
    “Bright lad. Bright lad,” said the king.
    “ Gern !”
    They both looked at him in astonishment.
    “You all right, master?” said Gern. “You’ve gone all white.”
    “The t—” stuttered Dil, rigid