It is Ma-nan.
It seems to me all the blood drains out of my face, and I clench my fists to prevent my hands shaking. He looks at me, up and down, for what seems an eternity. My throat is constricted and, try as I will, I can bring out no words.
“Greeting, Nameless One,” he says mockingly, noting my discomfiture. For a moment I almost fall under the old spell. I have not called on Khurahtaten for help for a long time, but I call now. I know I have not the strength even yet to stand against the man who caged me all those years.
A voice speaks softly behind my back, though there is no one there. “You have names reaching back to the Beginning. Have courage.”
“I am named Djehuti-kheper-Ra,” I say, and this time my voice leaves my throat and fills the dark chamber powerfully. “You have no mo
