We're Doing What Now?

The second floor seemed calm but we took no chances. Moving quickly but cautiously, we walked around the Bison Hunt diorama, heading for the secondary doors to the Jewels exhibit, the ones by which we'd left in a hurry some time previous. How long has it been now? It's getting late.

As we walked, Mr. Thorndyke further explained his thoughts. “Set may be powerful but by no means is he all powerful. If we have the right artifacts available to us, we may be able to trap him.”

“Do you mean to form a pentagramic pyramid around him?” Ms. Chapman asked.

Mr. Thorndyke grew quite animated. “That is it precisely! If you know of it, then I'm sure you know more about it than I do, you being an expert in the field.”

Ms. Chapman smiled. “You are helping to jog my memory. This isn't the sort of information I normally need in a moment of crisis.”

“What's a pentagramic pyramid?” I asked. “I mean, I know what a pentagram is and what a pyramid is but not the combination of the two.”

“A pentagramic pyramid is an ancient symbol of mystical power,” Ms Chapman explained, “formed by the five points of the pentagram with a sixth point creating the pyramid point. Many of the sorcerers of Ancient Egypt believed it to be a conduit of power supplied by the gods themselves.”

“Was there some special process involved in activating this pyramid?” Harry asked. “It seems to me that they'd use it all the time if it was simple.”

We entered the exhibit, paused for a moment to adjust to the different gloom levels, and headed for the first display area. “It's all about math,” Ms. Chapman explained. “Angles and shapes. The pyramids are filled with similar patterns as part of their anti-grave robbing traps.”

“Considering how some of those were cleaned out, that doesn't seem to bode well for our plan,” I observed.

“There are other factors at play there,” Mr. Thorndyke explained as he began working to open a display case. “Over time the shapes in the pyramids lost some of their precision as the energy feeding them ceased to flow.”

I had to think about that for a moment. It seemed like a strangely specific level of detail. “Really?” As he opened a display case, Mr. Thorndyke took a moment to nod to me. I stood there, in the gloom, suddenly aware of a hazy green glow emerging over the interior walls of the exhibit. Was this knowledge any stranger than anything else I'd experienced tonight? Not really. For that matter, he may well be guessing, theorizing, extrapolating even.

I was tired. I was nervous. I was fearful. I had already decided to trust Mr. Thorndyke. This piece of knowledge was not much of a stretch but it did make me wonder.

Mr. Thorndyke waved me closer in order to to hand me a canopic jar, one with the faint shape of a falcon still visible in it. It was heavier than I expected and I quickly brought my other hand in to prevent myself from dropping it. “This is stone.”

“What did you expect something from Ancient Egypt to be made of? Plastic?” asked Ms. Chapman.

I just stared at the eroded, aged, carved figure in my hands. The age, the history, seeped from it. “This is real?” I dumbly mumbled. “I just didn't think... I mean, for some reason it never occurred to me that...” I brushed the top of the jar with the back of my hand. “Where have you been and what have you seen?”

Mr. Thorndyke quickly broke my moment. “Mostly the inside of a tomb. I'm sure it's not as exciting as you think.” He pried a picture from its mount on the wall, provoking an excitable reaction from Ms. Chapman. Mr. Thorndyke waved her off. “If we survive, it can be glued back on to the display. If not, well, we won't have to worry about it, will we?”