This chapter has been driving me crazy! I feel really guilty because everyone loved the story so much and I feel like I can't give them what they want in time, so I thought I'd post the unfinished chapter to see if anyone has any ideas. BTW, I really want to fix Merytre's dialogue about her brother, because she is not the type to ramble on, but I'm not sure how to fix it.
Note on the ba: The ba was basically a person's soul. The ka was their essence, their personality. And gods could also have bas and kas. I'm probably confusing everyone, but I'm in a hurry w/o time for a more detailed explanation. This might help: http://www.touregypt.net/featurestories/soul.htm

Edit: Please disregard above^. I was in a ranting mode, but strangely, last night, I was able to write some more. It's done, for now.


Chapter III
A Visit

In 1305 B.C:

“What a night!” Kiya flung herself on Merytre’s bed and stared up at the painted ceiling, which had white stars on a blue background.
It had been a night. Heqanakhte and Nofret were very polite, but quite clueless as to where she came from. She explained to them over a dinner of roasted duck and pomegranates.
“I come from across the ocean. It’s a long ways from here.”
“But from which country? I have not heard of one beyond the Great Green,” Heqanakhte inquired.
“America. I guess you don’t know about it?”
“Ameyrika? No, I have not, in all my travels.”
“Yeah, it’s great, we have a lot of stuff. Like malls and cars.”
“A mall? Cars?”
“A mall is like that bazaar out there, except it’s indoors. And a car is like a chariot without horses.” I hope he got that! Ugh…
“Interesting.”
That was only the beginning of all the explanations of her world. Kiya groaned when she remembered the iPod.
“What is that thing?” Little Nefertari asked.
“It’s an iPod. Wanna see how it works?”
“Yes!”
Kiya pressed the center button. And pressed it again. And again.
“Dang it, hang on.”
She tried resetting it. Still no response.
“I guess I’ll have to show you something else,” Kiya sighed and got out her laptop. She pressed the power button. No response.
“Looks like there’s no electricity. Anyways, the iPod can play music and this laptop can do a lot of, um, other stuff.”
“Show me more!”
“Ok, how about this?” She pulled out the picture of Bastet. “That’s my cat.” The whole family gathered to look at that one.
“Surely, no one painted that. How could you have obtained it?” Heqanakhte asked as he examined it.
“I used this.” She pulled out the cell phone. “Look at me.” She pressed a button, then showed them the results.
“Well, Kiya, nice magic,” Merytre laughed, “It looks just like us.”
After a desert of honeycakes, Kiya went upstairs. She scrambled off Merytre’s bed as soon as she heard the knock on the door.
“Kiya, here is where you’ll be sleeping.” Merytre pointed to a reed mat on the other side of her bed. Upon seeing Kiya’s worried look, she added, “It is actually comfortable. You’ll need sleep. We are going to visit my brother tomorrow.”
“Your brother? You have a brother?”
“Yes, I suppose Father forgot to tell you about Sennedjem? He’s three years older than I am. He’s lived with Grandfather Rekhmire and Grandmother Ineri since he was six.”
“But how come he lives with them and not you?”
“It is a long story. Father’s family has been scribes for as many generations as we can remember. Father, however, did not want to be a scribe, but a tomb policeman. That greatly disappointed Grandfather. When Sennedjem was very young, he wanted to become a scribe, which greatly disappointed Father. So, he sent Sennedjem to live and train as a scribe with Grandfather and he’s lived there ever since. We visit him at every chance we get.”
“Oh. Well, that’s kinda sad. He must be pretty lonely. Doesn’t he ever visit you?”
“Not as often as we visit him. Especially not now. He is actually finished with his training, but lately, Grandfather’s been ill and he’s taking care of him.”
“He’s sick? Aren’t you bringing something to help him?”
“Physician Khety has already attended to him, for now. We’re just bringing a little gift for Sennedjem.” Merytre smiled, then continued, “It is growing late; I think we should both go to sleep.”

In 2005 A.D:

Alexander looked to make sure that his parents were asleep, then turned on his flashlight and carefully examined the feather he had picked up earlier. His dad had told him to put it with the other artifacts from the burial chamber, but he had secretly sneaked it into the camp. That was an easy task, since his parents were busy reporting Kiya’s disappearance to the authorities. He carefully beamed the flashlight around to check for scorpions, then concentrated on the feather.
It was long, about half the length of a peacock’s tail feather. The color was a different shade of blue at every unique angle. When Alex shone the flashlight directly on it, the blue turned into almost blinding gold.This thing is awesome. I wonder if it could have come from...
He shone the flashlight beneath the camp bed and noiselessly pulled out his pocket-sized Egyptology handbook. Alex flipped it to a page on mythological creatures, then put his hand over his mouth to keep from gasping. “No way…”
The feather was indeed that of the Benu bird; theba of Re himself, and the guardian of time.

In 1305 B.C:

It was a good distance to Rekhmire’s house, but Merytre convinced Kiya to stop her grumbling and enjoy the city. “Look over there! It’s the temple complex of Amun!”
“Yeah, whatev- whoa! You’re right! It’s huge!” Kiya stopped in her tracks. “And it’s beautiful.” Kiya had seen the ruins of the temple when she was five, but never thought that she would see it in its former glory. Paintings covered the huge pylon gate, its whitewashed walls brilliantly reflecting the rays of the sun. Obelisks and two huge statues of Pharaoh graced the front. She could barely imagine the insides.
“Kiya, come now, it’s not too far,” Merytre interrupted her imaginings.
The house of the Chief Scribe Rekhmire was in a lovely-looking district, situated near similar-looking whitewashed houses. A servant answered the door, but was asked to step aside by a young, refined voice. The voice belonged to a young man who resembled Heqanakhte in physical features only. He wore a linen tunic and a wig cut slightly above shoulder-length. Overall, he was a pleasant-looking thing, but his expression was cold and aloof until he saw his sister.
“Meryt! I thought you were too busy to visit us!” He beckoned her into the house.
“Of course, I wasn’t, Sennedjem, you goose!” she replied teasingly as she sat herself on a floor cushion, ”How is Grandfather doing?”
His face became serious again. “I called Physician Khety over yesterday and he did not have a good report. But he seems well today.” He finally bothered to look at Kiya, then asked Merytre in a lower voice, “Who is that sky-eyed foreigner you’re with?”
“Sennedjem, she is a foreigner, but she’s very interesting to talk to. How I met her is a long story, so I’ll tell you later. Now, go introduce yourself. After all, I thought Grandfather taught you how to be courteous.”
Kiya was somewhat intimidated by his cold presence, but also felt a strangely positive feeling as she looked at him. It was the feeling of kindness, even though he hadn’t expressed any. “Um, hi, I’m Kiya.”
“Hello, I am Sennedjem, Merytre’s elder brother and Assistant Scribe of the First Granary of Waset.” He nodded politely, then turned back to Merytre. “Did you bring those herbs I asked about?”
“I did, and I brought something for you, too.” She pulled an expensive, little ivory scribe’s palette from her small linen bag and gave it to him. “I bartered off most of Mother’s old weaving to get it. This is her gift to you, to celebrate the end of your training and your new post.”
“It’s-it’s wonderful. Tell Mother my thanks.”
“Nefertari gave you something, too.” Merytre handed him a small pottery shard with a few childish ink scribbles covering one side. Sennedjem laughed at the sight of it, startling Kiya who had been watching this whole scene and feeling a little left out. He handled it as carefully as he had handled the precious palette. “How is Nef?” he asked. “And your harp-playing? I wrote you another song. I needed to write it; the taxes bore me.”
“Nef wanted to come see you, but Mother wanted her to stay home. She really misses you. Now, let me get Grandmother’s old harp so I can set the song to a tune. I think it was in the storerooms somewhere…” Merytre scurried off to find it, leaving Sennedjem facing Kiya, with both of them staring awkwardly at one another until Sennedjem broke the silence with a curious question: “Where are you from, Kiya? I have never seen a person with such blue eyes, save for Horus himself.”
“I’m from America. It’s far to the west. My mom always thought that Horus and my great-great-great-grandfather Horace L’oiseau were connected. But I don’t know and don’t really care.” She looked at him. “You know, your dad asked the exact same question, about where I came from.”
“Father was always an adventurous man. He would ask that of any foreigner,” Sennedjem sighed. “And yet, he rarely comes to visit us.”
Merytre returned with the harp. “I found it! Where’s the song?”
“Here.” Sennedjem handed her a scrap of papyrus.

In 1305 B.C:

Alexander continued to study the feather whenever he was alone. That particular day, he decided to test its strength while lounging in one corner of the research tent. It was strong for a feather; he could not break the shaft no matter how hard he pulled at it.
“Alex!” His dad was calling him. “Come down here!”
Alex gently stuffed the feather into his jean pocket, then ran down the tomb’s entrance shaft to the burial chamber below.
“Did you say this was where Kiya disappeared?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“How could she go missing in a tomb chamber, though? This is a very small tomb, after all. Are you sure her scream came from here?
“Yes, Dad, I’m absolutely sure.”
“What’s this?” Dr. Goneim took out a magnifying glass and studied a mark on the side of the dusty sarcophagus. It appeared to be a footprint. “It looks like the bottom of a sneaker; a sports sneaker. Like what Kiya would have worn.” Alexander pointed out.
“Why on earth would she kick the sarcophagus? Especially since I’ve told her many times not to damage the artifacts.” Ibrahim threw his hands up in desperation. “But I suppose that’s not important, at least for now. Did you find anything else in here, Alex, as in any evidence from Kiya?”
“Not really, Dad.” Liar, Alex told himself.
“Then I suppose we shall have to dig for it under this sand,” sighed Dr. Goneim.

Yay! Finally...