'It's me, Grandma,' said the king.
The shadow stood motionless.
'What, young Pootle?' it said, suspiciously.
The king avoided Dil's face.
'That's right, Grandma. We've come to let you out.'
'Who're these men?' said the shadow petulantly. 'I've got nothing, young man,' she said to Gern. 'I don't keep any money in the pyramid and you can put that weapon away, it doesn't frighten me.'
'They're servants, Grandma,' said the king.
'Have they got any identification?' muttered the old lady.
'I'm identifying them, Grandma. We've come to let you out.'
'I was hammering hours,' said the late queen, emerging into the sunlight. She looked exactly like the king, except that the mummy wrappings were greyer and dusty. 'I had to go and have a lie down, come the finish. No-one cares about you when you're dead. Where're we going?'
'To let the others out,' said the king.
'Damn good idea.' The old queen lurched into step behind him.
'So this is the netherworld, is it?' she said. 'Not much of an improvement.' She elbowed Gern sharply. 'You dead too, young man?'
'No, ma'am,' said Gern, in the shaky brave tones of someone on a tightrope over the chasms of madness.
'It's not worth it. Be told.'
'Yes, ma'am.'
The king shuffled across the ancient pavings to the next pyramid.
'I know this one,' said the queen. 'It was here in my day. King Ashk-ur-men-tep. Third Empire. What's the hammer for, young man?'
'Please, ma'am, I have to hammer on the door, ma'am,' said Gern.
'You don't have to knock. He's always in.'
'My assistant means to smash the seals, ma'am,' said Dil, anxious to please.
'Who're you?' the queen demanded.
'My name is Dil, O queen. Master embalmer.'
'Oh, you are, are you? I've got some stitching wants seeing to.'
'It will be an honour and a privilege, O queen,' said Dil.
'Yes. It will,' she said, and turned creakily to Gern. 'Hammer away, young man!' she said.
Spurred by this, Gern brought the hammer round in a long, fast arc. It passed in front of Dil's nose making a noise like a partridge and smashed the seal into pieces.
What emerged, when the dust had settled, was not dressed in the height of fashion. The bandages were brown and mouldering and, Dil noticed with professional concern, already beginning to go at the elbows. When it spoke, it was like the opening of ancient caskets.
'I woket up,' it said. 'And theyre was noe light. Is thys the netherworld?'
'It would appear not,' said the queen.