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The Sands of Time - Instalment Ten

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Ancient Egypt - c5000BC

She was still alive, but Rassul did nothing.

He watched as they dragged the girl's sagging body towards the tomb. He followed, taking his designated place as the last of the relics were carried after her. The ring of Bastet, born on a velvet cushion; the snake statue of Netjerankh; the scarab bracelet; the figure of Anubis, god of the rituals of death. Rassul followed, holding the hourglass before him like the talisman it was. And at his back he could hear the Devourer of the Dead snapping in frustration as she was cheated of her victim. The girl was still alive as they removed the dress. She could stand alone now, unmoving apart from her eyes. She was still alive as Anubis directed the priests to smear her naked body with bitumen.

She was still alive as they started to smother the bandages round her. And Rassul did nothing.

As the wrappings reached her face she screamed again, head back and mouth wide, as if to remind them she still had her tongue. A single word, screamed in terror, anger and accusation. A single word hurled at Rassul as he stood before her. And did nothing. The next twist of cloth cut off her voice, bit deep into her mouth and gagged her.

She was still alive as the bandages covered her forehead, leaving a thin slot through which Rassul could see her eyes widen. She was watching him, locked on to him. And he could see her pupils dilate, could almost feel her terror.

The opening of the mouth. Her scream had been like a pouring in of energy. His muscles tightened and his whole body tensed. She screamed a single word.

'Father!'

Chapter Fifteen

They were all standing round the casket now. The Doctor, Tegan and Rassul had been joined by Atkins. As they watched the bandaged figure's movements become gradually more pronounced and emphatic, Vanessa stepped up on to the dais. The mummies grouped behind her, and as she raised her arms high above her head, they mirrored her movements. The chamber seemed to fill with discordant music, perhaps from the organ in the drawing room above, as the wide sleeves of Vanessa's night-gown slipped down to her shoulders, exposing her bronzed arms.

The figure in the casket was struggling to sit up now, the arms still bound to her sides, but working to loosen the wrappings.

'Now it happens,' Rassul said, his voice barely audible above the rising noise of the organ. 'Now she becomes whole. Now the goddess Nephthys lives again.'

'And what good does that do you?' Tegan shouted across the coffin.

'My daughter will live again too. When the mind of Nephthys is complete, so too is the remains of my daughter's. Some part of her, however small, will be restored.' The sweat glistened on his forehead as he raised his arms above the coffin. 'That is worth everything. Nephthys is the instrument of my daughter's rebirth.'

The Doctor shook his head emphatically. 'You think you're using Nephthys,' he shouted. 'But in fact she's using you. She's been using you ever since Horus chose your daughter.' 'No Doctor, you are wrong.'

'Am I? That blind faith that drives you to try to save some vestige of your daughter is how Osiran mental control works, don't you see that?'

'What do you mean?' Atkins asked.

'It's not just thecomplete take-over of the mind that the Osirans use. It's the passion for discovering all you can about a mummy in your basement, it's the devotion of a high priest, the impulsive selection of a good round number like a hundred years. It's the love of a daughter.'

Rassul was shaking his head now. 'No, Doctor, you still don't understand.'

As he spoke, two of the mummies stepped on to the dais. They took up positions either side of the casket, forcing Atkins to move aside. They reached into the coffin and took the writhing, bandaged figure, raising it to its feet with a gentleness that belied their massive strength.

'When Nyssa's eyes open from the long sleep, and she sees the goddess, Vanessa and Nyssa will be joined and Nephthys will be whole again.' The triumph was evident in Rassul's voice.

Vanessa reached out, working her slender fingers between the bandages round the head. 'Let the universe tremble,' she said, her voice blending into the rhythmic swell of music. 'Let the darkness start here.' Then she tore the bandages from the face of the figure standing in the sarcophagus.

Tegan screamed, and the organ music stopped. Tegan stepped back, hands to her mouth, and almost fell down the step. Vanessa froze, her eyes meeting the gaze returned from beneath the torn remains of the bandages. Atkins looked puzzled, and Rassul stood open-mouthed in horror and amazement. The Doctor nodded slowly, his face set in grim satisfaction.

The figure standing in the coffin, held either side by an Osiran mummy, her head now almost free of bandages, was recognizably Nyssa. The grey hair hung in ringlets about her neck, the round face was creased and wrinkled round the bright intelligent eyes. The pale lips were pursed slightly as if in defiance.

When Tegan had seen the Doctor unwrap Nyssa's head in 1896, it had been to reveal the young woman she remembered from the previous day. Now she looked nearer ninety than twenty.

'What is this?' Rassul screamed. His voice echoed round the chamber. 'What has happened?'

He looked to Vanessa for an answer, but she remained frozen in position, staring at Nyssa.

'I think we're a little late,' the Doctor said. His voice was quiet, but everyone turned to him. Even Vanessa swung her head slightly. 'I'm afraid your calculations were slightly off. As you can see, Nyssa has actually been awake for quite some time. Or at least, in a sort of waking sleep. Just enough to continue the ageing process while she dozed.'

'No,' breathed Vanessa, her voice an exhalation of disbelief.

'You know it's true,' the Doctor told her. 'You just scanned her mind, looking for the reasoning, calculating, intelligent part of your own self.'

'It is not there.' Vanessa's voice was low, despondent.

'So, even at the instinctive level on which you're operating you can tell that the rest of the mind of Nephthys no longer exists. It was freed when Nyssa awoke, and you weren't here. Now it's lost forever.'

'How long ago did she wake?' Atkins asked.

'She woke up in 1926.'

'Seventy years,' Atkins murmured.

The Doctor nodded. 'I like good round numbers,' he said.

'Doctor.' Tegan's voice was accusing, shaking with emotion. Her face was set and she was glaring at him.

'I'm sorry, Tegan. If there had been any other way.'

'How could you?' She was in tears now. 'How could you do this to Nyssa, after - after everything?'

The Doctor smiled sadly. 'Rassul knows. He asked if I could sacrifice a friend to save the universe, if I could make that choice.'

Tegan turned away. 'He didn't believe you could,' she said through her sobs. 'And neither did I.'

Rassul too was shaking with anger. 'Doctor, I shall kill you for this.'

The Doctor returned his stare. 'I don't care,' he said levelly. 'The universe is safe now. All you have is a woman who hardly knows who she is and can't make a decision beyond the next instinctive moment. She can respond to circumstances, make impassioned speeches from the heart of the evil goddess she once was, but longer term than that she can never make up her mind.' He grinned suddenly. 'I hope you'll excuse the choice of phrase.'

'She will be whole,' Rassul insisted. 'We shall find a way.'

Vanessa stood watching them, listening to the exchange but taking no part. Her face was impassive.

'Not without going back to 1926, you won't.' The Doctor frowned, as if surprised at his own words, and bit his lip. He turned away, went to comfort Tegan.

Rassul's brow creased in concentration. '1926, of course. Nephthys must be there when your friend wakes. Must have been waiting for her first moments of this waking sleep. Then, her mind will meld and be one.'

He looked across at Vanessa, and she in turn reacted, nodding to the nearest mummy. The mummy let go of Nyssa, who sagged, still held by a second mummy. She had been paying careful attention to what was happening, but said nothing.

The mummy lurched towards the Doctor, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him round. Then it pushed him towards Rassul.

'You will take us, Doctor,' Rassul said. 'You will take us back to 1926.' He pointed the gun at the Doctor's head to emphasize the demand.

But the Doctor shook his head. 'Oh no. No I won't. And threatening my friends here will make no difference, either,' he said as Rassul moved the gun to point at Tegan. 'By now you must realize that I value even their lives below the imperative of keeping Nephthys subdued. The past is over and done with, dead and buried in a box. And you can't change it.'

Rassul considered for a moment, then suddenly he smiled and lowered the gun. 'But we can,' he said. 'Thank you for the suggestion, Doctor. We shall use the sarcophagus. It can open a vortex tunnel to 1926 as easily as it transported Nyssa to ancient Egypt.'

The Doctor's jaw dropped, and for a second he was speechless. 'No!' he cried, his arm flung out in appeal to Rassul, an almost theatrical gesture.

But Vanessa was already turning to the mummies. 'Go,' she said, and her voice was like the cracking of hell.

The mummy still holding Nyssa's arm released it, and she fell back into the casket. Atkins and Tegan went to help her out, as two of the mummies turned and lumbered towards the staircase. The third stood beside Vanessa, a silent bodyguard. Rassul moved to join his goddess.

'Where are they going?' Tegan asked the Doctor.

'To fetch the sarcophagus, I imagine. If they bring it here, then Vanessa or Nephthys or whoever she now is can use it to travel back to 1926 and be in this room when Nyssa's consciousness returns.'

'And Nephthys will live again, complete,' Vanessa said, her eyes now alive with menace.

'Where is the sarcophagus?' Atkins asked.

Nyssa sat down on the edge of the dais, and the Doctor rested his hand on her shoulder. It was a strange gesture, comforting yet distant. 'I imagine it's still in the British Museum. It's a bit of a walk, but who's going to argue with those two at four o'clock in the morning?'

It was the quietest time of the night in a city which is never completely silent. Aldwych was deserted, and Drury Lane had already shed its last theatre-goers. The two mummies kept to the darkest shadows as they lumbered across London. The instinctive force of Nephthys which guided them knew intuitively that avoiding confrontation would make for the quickest journey.

Even so, several meetings were unavoidable. A drunk stirred in the gutter as one of the massive figures stepped over him. He stared in fuzzy horror at the shape moving above him, then dragged himself to his feet and fled noisily in the opposite direction.

As they neared the end of Drury Lane, a police patrol car drew alongside. 'Good party?' the driver called at them, but the robots ignored him. The patrol shadowed for a while before receiving a call about a hit and run in Bloomsbury. It wailed off into the night and the mummies continued their ponderous progress towards the north entrance to the British Museum.

Henry Edwards was making his routine tour of the ground floor when he heard the crash. It sounded as if the north door was being smashed open. The penetrating scream of the burglar alarm echoed round the museum. Henry reached for his radio as he ran down the corridor.

What was left of the door was hanging from a bent hinge, swinging slowly in the night breeze. Henry stared at it, fumbling the buttons on the radio. He had it almost to his mouth when a huge shape resolved out of the shadows and stepped towards him.

His first thought was that one of the exhibits from the Egyptian Rooms on the floor above had somehow come to life. But then he realized that it must just be a student prank. He was still thinking of a witty put-down when the huge bandaged hand lifted him by the neck and flung him down the corridor. His head hit the wall with a thud, leaving a sticky trail behind it as his body slid slowly to the floor.

The mummy continued on its way, hardly slowed by the encounter. It followed its fellow to the north staircase, and up to Room 66 which was just at the top of the first flight.

The Osiran sarcophagus stood in the corner of the room. It glowed with an eerie internal light as the service robots approached. They lifted it easily between them, and started on their return journey. They were just leaving by the north door as the first police cars screeched to a strobing blue halt outside the main entrance on the opposite side of the building.

The Doctor, Tegan and Atkins were sitting on the floor. The Doctor was cross-legged, staring at the ground.

Tegan was sitting with her back against the wall and her knees drawn up under her chin. She looked round at the others, avoiding catching Nyssa's attention, and thought back to the last time she had sat in a similar position on the same piece of floor. It had been a hundred years ago and thousands of miles away. But the real shift was in her perspective. Then she had been desperate for Nyssa's long sleep to end. But now that Nyssa had finally awoken, Tegan was depressed and confused.

Nyssa sat close to Tegan, her frail old body seemed shrunken and bereft of energy. She stared at the Doctor, as if for reassurance. Occasionally the Doctor looked up and smiled faintly at her, and Nyssa visibly relaxed a little. But Tegan was unable to decode the communication between them, if there was any. Soon after the mummies had left, Tegan had tried to talk to Nyssa, but she had been unresponsive, answering in monosyllables or nods of the head. 'Are you OK?' Nod. 'How do you feel?' Shrug. 'Do you want to talk about it?' 'No.'

Rassul was pacing nervously up and down beside the raised dais. Vanessa stood motionless, her eyes flicking back and forth as if she were seeing events played out somewhere else. Beside her, the Osiran mummy stood massive and silent. Its upper body swayed slightly as it kept watch over both the group sitting on the floor and Rassul.

Despite their bulk, the mummies moved almost silently. It surprised Tegan when the Doctor suddenly leaped to his feet and dusted himself down. A moment later, the two mummies entered the chamber, carrying the sarcophagus between them. They positioned it on the dais at the head of the casket in which Nyssa had slept, bowed slightly to Vanessa, and stepped back. The third mummy joined them, and together they raised their arms. From the house above the organ roared into strident life and a cacophony of powerful noise swelled through the basement.

The Doctor helped Nyssa to her feet and led her by the elbow towards the dais. Tegan followed, and heard the Doctor whisper to Nyssa.

'Just here, where you are have a clear view of the sarcophagus.' He glanced round as Nyssa stood where he had indicated.

'Typical, Doctor,' Tegan called across at him. 'All hell is about to break loose, and all you're worried about is getting a front row seat.'

The Doctor caught Tegan's eye, then looked quickly away again as Atkins joined them. Rassul was already beside the sarcophagus as its inner glow seemed to swell with the organ music. 'That's right,' he said to the Doctor and his friends. 'Watch the final apocalyptic becoming of the goddess.' He raised his arms high in the air, mirroring the mummies. 'Nephthys shall live once more.'

'She's using you, Rassul,' the Doctor said. 'Can't you see that yet?'

But Rassul ignored him as Vanessa went up the steps towards the glowing casket. As she approached, the carved front of the sarcophagus seemed to melt away in a blaze of light. Then the light turned in on itself and was sucked back into the casket. The sarcophagus' shape blackened so that it looked like a child's outline of a human being, a hieroglyph. Light seemed to pour in from outside, spinning and spiralling inwards and tumbling towards the vanishing point.

'What's happening?' Atkins asked the Doctor .

'She's established a time tunnel back to 1926,' he replied quietly. 'Her power is greatest here, so it's the best place to start the tunnel.'

'So she can do it,' Tegan said. 'She can travel back to Nyssa's waking moment and become complete. She can become Nephthys reborn.'

'To destroy the world,' Atkins murmured.

Vanessa turned to them, as if she had heard Atkins' words. She was standing directly in front of the time tunnel so that the power and energy seemed to flow past and around her into its depths. Her eyes were holes of tumbling light and her voice had taken on an echoing melodic resonance. 'So, Horus, your naive stratagems have failed as I always knew they would. Now I reclaim my birthright of evil. Now I begin the reign of dust and darkness. Now all life shall wither and perish under the reign of Nephthys.'

She raised her arm, the bracelet and the ring glowing with the same intensity as the time tunnel. Out of the corner of her eye, Tegan was aware that the cobra and the jackal were also strobing and glowing like alabaster lit from within.

'Abase yourselves,' she ordered. 'You are as nothing before the power of Nephthys.'

Tegan felt her knees give way, and collapsed painfully to the stone floor. Beside her Atkins was also kneeling. The Doctor remained upright for a second longer, then he too collapsed to the ground. Nyssa seemed unaffected, standing between them and Vanessa now, watching as Vanessa stepped backwards into the tunnel. As she sank back into the darkness, her hair and white dress blew around her as if, like Eurydice, she were falling through the heavy air back into Hades itself.

There was a faint noise in the darkened basement, like the sound of a massive church organ playing in the distance. Slowly it grew in volume, and as it did the chamber was lit with a throbbing blue light. And in the centre of the light, at the head of the open coffin on the dais, a figure faded into existence.

Nephthys reached into the sarcophagus, lifting and cradling the bandaged head of Nyssa. The head that contained the reasoning, calculating side of herself. Slowly, carefully, reverently, she looked though the bandages, and stared into the closed mind of the sleeping woman. And reached gently into her thoughts.

For a moment she was still. Then she threw back her head and screamed. The mind of Nephthys was there, buried inside the woman Nyssa. She could detect it, could sense its presence. But it was still too submerged in the sleeping woman to be of use.

She could also tell that Nyssa would not wake for another seventy years.

In the house above, old Lord Kenilworth stirred in his sleep, and reached out for the warmth of his wife.

While in the basement Nephthys, acting on the instinct and impulse which was all her mind could draw on, faded back into the vortex of the time tunnel.

'Any second now, I should think,' the Doctor said.

Tegan stared at him. He was actually smiling. But before she could say anything, the sarcophagus glowed back into life in front of them.

'Prepare to meet your doom,' Rassul said in triumph as he bowed low before the blazing gateway.

A tiny dot appeared in the distance, growing slowly as it seemed to fly towards them. Nephthys was returning.

The figure that still resembled Vanessa hovered right at the edge of the time tunnel, staring out at the group kneeling in front of her. And then at Nyssa. With a sudden scream of inhuman agony, Nephthys tumbled away from view.

To reappear in the empty basement of 1926 at the moment she had arrived before. Nyssa lay before her in the casket. Her face was still covered with the bandages, but Nephthys knew immediately that she still slept. With no deductive or reasoning powers to help her, she again acted on impulse. Nephthys could tell from the depth of Nyssa's coma when she would wake, and stepped back into the time tunnel to return to 1996.

And found Nyssa awake, all vestiges of the mind of Nephthys gone from her brain. Even before she reached the end of the tunnel, she knew the age of the woman. She could tell when she must have woken, and returned to 1926.

'What's happening?' Tegan watched as Nephthys faded back into the tunnel for the third time. The mummies stood impassive and still, but Rassul was on his feet now, shaking his head and murmuring beneath his breath.

The Doctor got slowly to his feet. 'That's better,' he said. 'She's weakening already. I knew there had to be a local focus, now it's working for us.' He frowned and scratched his ear. 'I wonder where it is.' He reached out and patted Nyssa on the shoulder. 'You're doing an excellent job there.' Then he turned to Tegan. 'When someone travels down an Osiran time tunnel, the effects of time aren't cancelled out. You travel a distance, doesn't matter whether it's forward or back, but you age that amount. Now Osirans can take that time on to themselves. So when Nyssa was sent back to ancient Egypt, Nephthys got older to the tune of several thousand years. Not a clever thing for Nyssa to do, but Osirans are extremely long-lived.'

'I think I understand what you're saying, Doctor,' Atkins said as he rose to his feet. 'A sort of conservation of energy or something. But how does that help us?'

The Doctor turned to watched Nephthys arrive on the threshold of the tunnel again, then fade back into the distance. 'Well, she's got nobody to pass the process on to, so she has to accommodate the time differential herself,' he said. 'Which means she's ageing by a hundred and forty years on each round trip. So this could take some time.' He turned back to the tunnel.

They could begin to see a difference in Nephthys now. Her face was sagging, bags under the eyes and a slackness of the jaw. On each successive appearance the difference grew more pronounced. Her body was thinning and becoming frail, her hair fading to grey, and her face concaving to show the line of the cheek bones jutting through. Her skin was cracked and lined by the time her hair started to thin. Her scalp was scarred and wrinkled with age, and the shape of her jaw changed as her teeth began to rot. The flesh was pulled back from the bloodshot eyes so that the bone of the sockets was clearly visible beneath the stretched skin.

Then with a drawn out wail of pain and exasperation, Nephthys collapsed. A single out-flung arm trailed over the edge of the time tunnel and into the real world. It was barely more than a strip of faded bone. As they watched it crumbled and powdered to dust, leaving a faint shadow of itself in its place. The bracelet and ring it had been wearing survived a fraction of a second longer, then they too exploded in a puff of ashes.

Across the room, the rearing cobra collapsed back into its coils as it crumbled away, and the statue of Anubis sank lower on its haunches before its back broke under its own weight. The snarling head sat for a moment on the broken paws, then the jaw fractured and the stone deteriorated into a pile of sand.

Rassul stared across the room at the powdered relics. Then his gun clattered to the floor as he fumbled desperately in his jacket pocket. He pulled out an hourglass, held it up to the light as if in supplication.

It exploded in a crash of organ music, showering him with sand and glass, and Rassul collapsed to his knees. He knelt in front of the Doctor and his friends, reaching out towards them. Tegan thought he was begging for help, but as she watched, he curled his fingers like claws, turned them, and ripped into his own face. The flesh and tissue disintegrated as he tore at it, pulling his head to pieces. He gouged a trail down his cheek, and dust fell from the rotting bone beneath. He was still tearing at the dry stump of his shattered neck when he toppled forward. His body rolled off the dais and crashed to pieces on the floor below.

The Osiran mummies smashed and crumbled to the floor beside him, their arms still raised in supplication to their goddess Nephthys.

London - 1880

The needle stretched up above the buildings behind it, a sharp point into the sky. George Vulliamy's gaze was fixed on its growing silhouette as he approached along the Embankment. As he got closer, he could see the imperfections of the stone edges against the clouds. Closer still, and he could begin to discern the carved hieroglyphs which covered the obelisk.

But Vulliamy's mind was elsewhere. It was a miracle, he thought, that Cleopatra's Needle was there at all. It had been lost on the turbulent voyage from Alexandria - along with the lives of six sailors. Then incredibly, one might almost say miraculously, it had been rocovered, the wooden casket reappearing in the expanses of the ocean, and towed to London in January 1878. Where nobody had decided what to do with it.

And it was almost by chance that, after eight months of deliberation, it should be erected on the Embankment. Vulliamy could see again in his mind the great stone pillar being rotated on a wooden construction more like a child's overgrown treehouse than scaffolding. He had watched, fascinated, as it was lowered into place on the plinth. To Vulliamy it was close to a miracle that he had been asked to be a part of it all. He had supervised the steps down to the river, and planned the geometric perfections of the plinths either side of the needle. He had drawn up his plans and had the full size plaster models positioned on the plinths to judge the effect. And everyone had proclaimed his Sphinxes to be the final aesthetic touch which completed the perfect Egyptian tableau.

Almost there now. If only his wife had not been taken ill, if only he had not waited for the doctor to arrive, he would have been present for the final act. But as it was, he had almost certainly missed it. The bronze Sphinxes he had designed would by now have replaced their plaster twins torn down the previous day. Perfection was now complete.

But something was not quite right. He peered forward squinting into the distance. The sun glimpsed out from behind a cloud and Vulliamy could see the rays of light reflecting off the bronze hide of one of his creations. Bronze, not painted plaster, so the Sphinxes had already been hoisted into position. He knew every contour of the beasts, every curve of their metal flesh and every engraving of the hieroglyphics on their chests. He had specified every sinew of the arms and every coil of the snake on each Sphinx's head dress.

So he knew that it was impossible for the sunlight to be reflected in quite that way, at quite that angle, from the Sphinx nearest to him. The light, however, continued to shine in his eyes as he approached, so he was almost there when he saw what had happened.

He was running, running like a schoolboy. He raced along the pavement, shouting to the workmen packing away their tools and nodding to each other at the end of a job well done.

Well done. He swore.

The nearest of the workmen turned to him as he pounded up. Surprise gave way to recognition. 'Mr Vulliamy, sir. A damed good job, I must say.'

'Must you?' he spat between gut-wrenching rasps.

'Indeed. Very elegant. Works of art and no mistake.'

'No mistake?' Vulliamy grabbed the man's lapels, shaking him so hard that he dropped the canvass bag he was holding. A hammer and several chisels clattered across the paving slabs. 'No mistake? Look at them. Look!'

Vulliamy spun the man round. The other workmen mirrored their fellow as they swung round to look at the Sphinxes guarding the obelisk. 'Look what you've done.' He knew from the finality of his own words that it was too late to change it. He let go the man's jacket, and sat down heavily on the ground shaking his head in disbelief. After so much, after so many minor miracles, after it had seemed that his design was somehow meant, to find this crass error.

The workmen continued to stare at the Sphinxes, apparently unable to see the problem. The beasts themselves continued to stare inwards at Cleopatra's Needle, oblivious to the consternation and confusion around them.

Vulliamy breathed deeply, his chest still aching from running. He pulled himself back to his feet, forcing his force to stay measured and relatively calm. 'How could you make such a mistake? Quite apart from the aesthetics, didn't you remember that the Sphinxes you tore down only yesterday were facing outwards?'

The man Vulliamy had grabbed shook his head, his mouth working soundlessly.

'How could you do it?' Vulliamy's voice cracked, close to tears as he turned away.

'I don't know, sir. I really don't. An impulse, perhaps. Somehow it just seemed right at the time.'

Chapter Sixteen

The Doctor picked his way through the carnage. The mummies lay across each other, crumpled and limp, their power suddenly gone. Discoloured areas of dust marked the positions where Rassul, the relics, and Nephthys' arm had disintegrated.

The time tunnel was strobing a reassuring green, the light diminishing as they watched. The Doctor reached round the back of the sarcophagus for a moment, then straightened up, dusted the palms of his hands against each other, and beamed across at Tegan and the others.

'There, that should do it. Don't want the thermal balance to equalize just yet, do we. There'll be quite a fire in this enclosed space, and I'd rather it was a few hours from now. The house should be safe, but it will destroy the incriminating evidence down here.' He looked at the fallen mummies and the stained stonework. 'The sands of time wash us all clean,' he said quietly. Then he brightened. 'Still, all's well that ends well, eh?' And with that he strode back across the room and slapped Tegan on the shoulder.

She pulled away. 'Is that it?' she asked. Her voice was vibrant with suppressed emotion.

The Doctor seemed not to notice. 'Yes, I think so. A pretty good result considering. All over -'

'Doctor!' Tegan screamed at him, her whole body tense with anger.

'- bar the shouting.' The Doctor frowned, his eyebrows knitting together as he leaned towards her. 'Yes?' he asked irritably.

Tegan turned away, arms folded.

'What is it?' The Doctor asked the group collectively. 'What's wrong with her now?'

'I think she might be worried about Nyssa,' Atkins suggested quietly.

'Nyssa? Oh yes, I nearly forgot.' The Doctor fumbled in his pocket and drew out the TARDIS key. 'Well, let's go and wake her up then.'

The old woman who had woken in the sarcophagus followed the Doctor to the TARDIS. It was only after he had unlocked the door and ushered her in ahead of him that he seemed to realize that nobody else was following. They were standing open-mouthed, watching him from the other side of the dais.

'Well, are you coming or not?' he demanded.

Tegan and Atkins looked at each other in silence.

'May I be permitted to ask what's going on?' Atkins had followed Tegan into Nyssa's room only to be confronted with yet another puzzle.

The old woman he had been told was Nyssa was sitting in a chair beside the bed. She patted the hand of the young woman who lay on the bed. A young woman who might have been her grand daughter, except that even across the years between them the resemblance between the two was uncanny.

A small piece of machinery that looked like it was cobbled together out of wires, small boxes and ceiling wax sat humming quietly to itself on the floor beside the bed. The Doctor was just disconnecting it from the young woman on the bed as they entered. As he switched off the machine, the hum died away. And the young woman yawned and stretched.

'That's the delta wave augmentor, isn't it Doctor?' Tegan asked.

He nodded, without taking his attention from the sleeping woman. 'Yes. Though I had to rig up another delta source to replace the sonic screwdriver, of course.'

Atkins coughed politely. 'Doctor, I take it that this young woman is your friend Nyssa. But perhaps you could introduce us all?'

The Doctor stepped back from the bed, apparently satisfied with Nyssa's progress. 'Of course,' he said. He turned to the old woman. 'Do forgive me, but things have been a little hectic for formal introductions.'

'Not at all, Doctor. I quite understand.' She let go of Nyssa's hand and stood up.

'Tegan, of course, I know already. But your other friend?'

'Mister Atkins.'

Atkins inclined his head slightly. 'Delighted, er -'

Tegan was frowning. 'Do I know you?'

'Of course, my dear. And you haven't changed a bit.' The woman smiled, and the way her face suddenly brightened made her look younger. 'Though I must confess, I have.'

Tegan shook her head slowly. Then her mouth dropped open. 'Ann?'

The woman nodded. 'I'm Lady Cranleigh now. Have been for a very long time. The Doctor came to the wedding, you know?' She smiled at him, and he beamed back.

'When?' Tegan asked.

'In nineteen twenty-six,' Lady Cranleigh said.

'About three hours ago,' said the Doctor.

Atkins coughed politely.

'Ah, yes. An explanation.' The Doctor shuffled his feet uncomfortably. 'Well, this is Lady Cranleigh, nee Ann Talbot, an old friend.' He paused, apparently embarrassed by his choice of words. 'Forgive me,' he said to Lady Cranleigh.

'Of course. But you're right.'

The Doctor continued. 'Ann was the image of Nyssa when we first met. Even I couldn't tell them apart. So I asked Lady Cranleigh if she would do me a small favour and stand in for Nyssa.'

'So she was in fact merely feigning sleep?' Atkins asked.

Lady Cranleigh laughed. 'I had to lie very still and wait for a password from the Doctor. All terribly exciting.'

'Yes, I do apologise for the melodramatics. And for not telling you all what was going on. Especially you, Tegan. But I had to make sure that Nephthys was convinced that this was Nyssa, and that she had been semi-awake, just enough to age, for seventy years. Rassul would never have believed I could do it if your reactions weren't genuine.'

Tegan said, 'So when Nephthys looked in Ann's head for the other half of her own mind -' 'It wasn't there, of course.'

'And she thought it had sort of evaporated in nineteen twenty-six and went back to look for it?' Atkins asked.

'Exactly.' The Doctor punctuated the word with a stab of his index finger.

'And when she found Nyssa was still asleep, she sort of bounced back?'

The Doctor nodded. 'She was able to tell when Nyssa would wake, so she came forward to that point. But because she could only act on instinct and impulse...' He left the thought unfinished for them.

'She kept going back and forth in time till she aged to death.' Tegan laughed.

'Simple.'

'Sometimes, Tegan,' the Doctor said, 'you take my breath away.'

'And what, Doctor, happens now?' asked Atkins.

The Doctor picked up a canopic jar from the floor under Nyssa's bed. 'Well, if you'll excuse me just a moment, I think Nyssa is about ready to wake up. And there's something in her mind I would like to remove.' The top was shaped into the head of a jackal, and he gave it a sharp twist to unscrew it. 'Osiran technology, complete with generator loop.'

'With what?'

'A sort of forcefield,' he explained. 'I picked it up at the British Museum on the way to collect Lady Cranleigh. Wouldn't have worked for Rassul and his friends, though. But now that I've built in a few modifications and refinements it should be up to the task.'

'Rassul? I thought he was the bad guy.'

'Oh, indeed.' The Doctor held the jar up and inspected it as if he had never seen it before. 'But initially he was the “guy”, as you say, that Horus left to guard the tomb. When Nephthys' energy leaked out, she used his suppressed guilt at sacrificing his daughter to turn him against Horus and into her servant. Quite handy from her point of view, since Horus was already expending the energy to keep him alive.'

The Doctor held the open jar close in front of Nyssa's face, a wire from the cat's cradle contraption he had been fiddling with earlier was connected to the base of the canopic jar. Suddenly, the Doctor snapped his fingers. The noise was like a pistol

For a moment they burned with a brightness and intelligence which almost radiated with intensity. Then they dulled slightly, and she blinked. The Doctor jammed the stopper on the jar, and twisted it shut. Then he pulled away the wire and gave a loud exhalation of relief.

'Doctor?' Nyssa lifted her head slightly from the pillows. She looked up at all the people crowding round her bed. 'What's happening?' Her eyes flickered, and she yawned. 'I've had the strangest dream,' she said.

The Doctor smiled. 'Don't worry about it, Nyssa. Everything's fine now.'

Nyssa seemed to have drifted back into sleep, and the Doctor waved everyone from the room. 'I know it seems odd,' he said as he led them back to the console room, 'but she'll be quite tired, I think. She might sleep for a little while.'

Tegan looked sharply at him.

'I mean, maybe an hour or two.'

It seemed as if, despite his frequent protestations, the TARDIS was becoming a taxi service. The Doctor had taken Lady Cranleigh back to Oxfordshire. Atkins had bid a sincere farewell, actually with tears in his eyes, before leaving them outside the back entrance to Kenilworth House a century earlier.

Nyssa was feeling rather weak and drained, so Tegan explained what had been going on. Nyssa seemed to be taking the news with characteristic composure.

The Doctor welcomed the few moments he had to himself. He looked back at the TARDIS, shimmering in the intense dry heat, then continued on his way. He half ran, half slid down the sand, remembering his similar descent with Atkins earlier.

The empty shell of the pyramid afforded some relief from the efforts of the sun, but the air was still close and hot. When he reached the area that had been the main burial chamber, he calculated the position of the point on the floor he was looking for. He couldn't be sure, of course, but the Osirans put a lot of store in geometric patterns and exact points in space. Horus must, he reflected as he started to dig into the sandy remains of the floor with his hands, have chosen this place for a reason.

When the hole was big enough, the Doctor carefully placed the canopic jar inside. Then he covered it over with the sand he had scooped out. He stood, bowed slightly, and made the Sign of the Eye.

As he left the main door of the pyramid, it swung slowly shut behind him. When the Doctor reached the TARDIS, he turned and looked back into the crater in the sand. He nodded in quiet satisfaction, and opened the TARDIS door.

The TARDIS shimmered in the heat of the day, and faded from existence. A moment later, a trickle of sand started running down the crater sides. Perhaps the Doctor had dislodged it, perhaps the TARDIS had shaken the ground slightly as it left, perhaps there was a sudden inexplicable breeze skitting across the desert. But whatever the cause, the trickle grew into a river of sand flowing down into the crater. Before long it was an avalanche, filling the bottom of the hollow. By the time Orion rose in the night sky, all signs of the black pyramid of Nephthys were buried deep beneath the shifting desert sands.

'Did you find him all right?'

It took Atkins a few moments to realize what Lord Kenilworth was asking him. It was a long while since he had departed to deliver an invitation to the Doctor outside the British Museum. He smiled. 'Indeed, Sir. And I must say I'm very glad I did.'

Kenilworth grunted. 'Didn't take you long, didn't think you'd be back till after I'd turned in.'

Atkins smiled and watched his employer start up the stairs. Then he continued on his way to the kitchens. He felt a nervous excitement above and beyond anything he had experienced during his time with the Doctor and Tegan, and his throat felt as dry as if he were still in the desert.

Miss Warne was standing by the stove. She was stirring a saucepan of soup.

Atkins watched her from the doorway for a while. Her mind was obviously not on the task in hand. She was staring off into space and humming quietly. Atkins shook his head, such a lack of proper decorum and deplorable laxity of attitude.

'Miss Warne,' he called across the room.

She flinched, and turned. She had stopped humming at once, and her stance was somehow more upright and proper. But in her eyes saw a flicker of emotion, a moment of suppressed happiness.

'I didn't realize before,' Atkins said as he crossed the room, 'just how long you must have been prepared to stand here and stir soup on the off chance that I should remember your kind offer and avail myself of it.'

'I don't mind waiting up.' If she was surprised at his comment, she hid it well. Her head was tilted slightly to one side so that the dark hair fell away slightly. Atkins could see the edge of her ear beneath. He did not remember ever having seen her ear before, and he was struck by how round and perfect it looked. Pale skin beneath dark hair.

'If I didn't know better,' Atkins said, leaning over her shoulder to inspect the soup, 'I might think that you enjoyed waiting for me.'

'If you didn't know better.'

Without changing position, Atkins looked up from the saucepan. His face was close to hers, and he could see that her pale skin was now slightly more pink than a few moments previously. He looked deep into her large, dark eyes.

Miss Warne turned away.

'Forgive me,' Atkins said, 'but may I address you as Susan for a moment?'

She looked back at him, puzzled. 'Mister Atkins, why?'

He smiled. 'It makes a proposal to have dinner together seem so much less formal, that's all.'

Kenilworth was not sure quite what the change in Atkins was. But certainly he had changed. He seemed more like he had been on the recent expedition than the sudden reversion to type after they had returned. But there was more to it than that.

Kenilworth waited for Atkins to show in his dinner guest, and reflected again on the events of the past few months, trying to put his finger on what was going on. His wife had mentioned that the housekeeper too seemed strangely distracted.

Atkins held the door open and stood to one side to let the guest enter. He was a tall, lean young man, with a hooked nose and dark hair that was already starting to recede. Kenilworth rose to greet the newest member of the Royal Society.

'Professor Marcus Scarman,' Atkins announced.