“Heinrich says they used to hold the organs of Egyptian royalty, but that can’t be right,” said one girl, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She paused hopefully. “… Can it?”
Enrique walked slowly to the canopic jar, touching it lightly. “Heinrich is correct. Our tale begins about five thousand years ago…”
Children, Enrique soon discovered, were ravenous.
Once he had told them about the religious significance of canopic jars, they wished to know about gruesome underworlds and what monsters lived there. Then they wished to know about the gods and goddesses of different lands, whose names they had never heard. Every reveal was met with applause and wonder. There was never a point at which they seemed bored by his lecture. And with every new piece of history or new story, Enrique imagined he could actually see their imaginations flex in new directions.
Eventually, the children’s curiosity even turned to him.
“What happened to your ear?” asked one of the children.
Enrique touched the light linen bandage over his wound. It no longer ached, and yet the absence of his ear was something that still caught him by surprise.
“I heard he fought a bear who was guarding the treasures and that’s how he lost it…”
“That’s a lie!” said another. “Bears don’t guard treasures.Dragonsdo.”
Enrique laughed. The children had dozens of questions, and he could scarcely get through them all one by one.
“Tell us another story!” said one.
“Are there mummies here? Have you seen one?”
“CanIsee a mummy?”
Enrique had only just quieted them by beginning the tale of the Egyptian god Osiris—an abridged version of course, for it was not entirely suitable to children—when a tall, dark-skinned woman wearing a ruff of fur walked into the halls.
“I found them!”
A horde of adults followed after her, shouting out the names of their charges.
Oh dear, thought Enrique. If these parents were furious at him and asked for his name, Enrique resolved to introduce himself as Séverin Montagnet-Alarie.
One by one, the parents fetched their children.
“No, I want to stay!” said one girl. “We were learning about mummies!”
One boy refused to move and sat on the floor.
“Will you tell us more tomorrow?” asked another boy before his parent hauled him off.
The solemn, blond-haired child hung back, trying to hide behind one of the storage boxes. His mother, a tall woman with a shock of black hair, laughed and coaxed him out.
“The children seem to be quite taken with you,” she said. “I hope they were not too much of a bother.”
“They… they were not a bother at all,” said Enrique.
On the contrary, it was the most fun he’d had in quite some time. The children’s intense curiosity was like a furnace that his whole being might warm itself against, and their eagerness made him wish to return to his research and regard it with fresh eyes.
“What is your name?” asked the woman.
“Sév—I mean, Enrique,” he said. “Enrique Mercado-Lopez.”
“Well, I am indebted to you for your generous instruction. I have the feeling you’ve made quite the impression on him, and I won’t hear the end of it for days,” said the woman, smiling widely. “Heinrich? Tell the nice professor ‘thank you.’”
“Oh, I’m not a professor—” said Enrique, but no one seemed to hear him.
“Thank you, Professor Mercado-Lopez,” said the boy.
