![]() Sugoroku had experienced too much to have someone’s description of a place do the trick. The poetic words were meant to make him rattle. Once the sun sets, the shadows… they devour. “From here we entered the territory of the dead. Sugoroku did his best to take any cues from him. Mutou, now is the time.” Ahmet was the best of the three with the camels. The sun had beaten off his black coat for hours. ![]() Now he sat, astride his camel, partway down the Valley of the Kings. Sugoroku knew you could only trust someone in it for money as far as you could throw them. Sugoroku had to be careful when discussing anything with either.Īhmet and Mushara Sadek were not in this for their own heritage or their country. Mushara, the younger, was definitely better than his brother, but he still missed certain subtleties. The two guides, who claimed to be brothers, did not know Japanese. While Sugoroku had studied some Egyptian in the past, he didn’t speak it. They only shared a common second language. This was not his first visit to Egypt, not even his first visit to the Valley of the Kings, but it was his first time here with the knowledge he had now. His thrills tended to be much more mentally strenuous than physically, but as often he ended up having to contort himself in new ways too. He was under no assumptions about the sort of person he actually was: an adrenaline junky. It was 1960 and Sugoroku was once more where he wasn’t supposed to be.
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