Place of Truth

Product Description Nefer the Silent and Paneb the Ardent can relax and carry out the work they were born to do, create masterpieces for the eternal glorification of the Pharaohs. But Mehy is obsessed with the Stone of Light and his craving for power has not abated, nor his vindictiveness against the Place of Truth. About the Author Born in Paris in 1947, Christian Jacq first visited Egypt when he was seventeen, went on to study Egyptology and archaeology at the Sorbonne, and is now one of the world's leading Egyptologists. He is the author of the internationally bestselling Ramses series, The Place of Truth series and the stand-alone novel, THE BLACK PHARAOH. Christian Jacq lives in Switzerland. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter 1 The Place of Truth was in a state of near panic. Since the murder of Nefer the Silent, Master of the craftsmen's Brotherhood, all the inhabitants of the secret village -- men, women, children, even animals -- had come to dread the sunset. As soon as the sun sank behind the mountains to begin its nocturnal voyage to the heart of the underworld, all the villagers went to ground in their little white houses. Soon, a malevolent spirit would leave Nefer's tomb in search of prey. One young girl had only just managed to escape from it, but no one dared trouble Ubekhet, the Wise Woman, who had withdrawn into mourning and despair since the death of her husband. She and Nefer had been initiated into the Brotherhood together; and they had become mother and father to the little community, which was centered around thirty craftsmen who had "heard the call," and their families. "This can't go on any longer!" exploded Paneb the Ardent, a dark-eyed giant of a man. "We're skulking like rats and all the pleasure's gone out of life." His wife, Uabet the Pure, was frozen to the spot by his anger. "Perhaps the ghost will eventually go away," she suggested timidly. She turned to check on their children. All was well. Their two-year-old daughter, Iuwen, was peacefully asleep in bed, and Aapehti, their rebellious fifteen-year-old son, was drawing caricatures on a fragment of limestone in an attempt to forget his fear. "No one but the Wise Woman can pacify her dead husband's soul," said Paneb, "and she no longer has the strength. They'll end up blaming me again -- just you see if they don't!" Paneb, leader of the starboard crew on the Brotherhood's symbolic ship, was the adopted son of Nefer the Silent and Ubekhet, and he adored them both. Yet a man who was beneath contempt, a traitor and a murderer hiding in the very bosom of the community, had tried to have Paneb accused of his spiritual father's murder. Although acquitted by the Wise Woman herself, the big man still felt suspicious glances following him around. "I must resolve this matter myself," he decided. Uabet, who was as frail as her husband was strong, threw herself into his arms. "Don't take such a risk," she begged. "Nefer's ghost is especially dangerous." "Why should I be afraid of it? A father doesn't strike down his own son." "This is more than a ghost hungry for vengeance. It can enter people's bodies and stop their blood circulating. No one, not even you, can defeat it." At forty-one, Paneb had never been stronger and he had never yet met a foe who could match him. "I refuse to behave like a prisoner in my own village. We must be able to move about freely, at night as well as in the daytime." "You have two children, Paneb, and a fine house worthy of a crew leader. Don't start a battle that is lost before it's begun." Paneb took his wife by the hand and led her into the second room of their home, which was spotlessly clean, for Uabet was always on the lookout for the smallest speck of dust. "Look at this stele, which I carved myself and set into the wall. It shows Nefer's radiant spirit, his immortal soul, which sails in the sun's ship and bestows its gifts upon us. The Master brought this