My morning was at least not unremarkable as Moza has found two friends to join him. They are wary of me still, although Moza was at first as well. One is a ragged mix of colours. Almost as large as Moza, he looks at me with a baleful eye as his other one appears to have been lost long ago.
The other is a tiny cat, almost more like a kitten. I believe it is a female and it is quite a stunning reddy orange colour. Its fur is very tight and she sits just like one of those Egyptian statues of cats. The staff at breakfast assured me it must be an Abyssinian breed- apparently quite rare.
I travelled with the rest of my companions to visit an Omar Shakti, just north of Cairo, narrowly avoiding the heat of the day. Nazir had put us onto Shakti as the potential original owner of the Black pharaoh artifacts that he had acquired. The others don't quite seem to remember it that way, but I am certain that is what the poor man said. Indeed, I recall thinking that there was a link between Mr Shakti and the Brotherhood who were potentially responsible for Nazir's burning. I was therefore quite cautious on our trip to see him.
Shakti owns a cotton plantation and I could not help but notice how sullen his workers were, much like the workers at the Clive Expedition in Memphis. I can't help but wonder what type of man could create such reticence in his workers. Indeed, remembering the cold calculation of Mr Winfield at Memphis, I begin to wonder if there isn't a connection. But I am getting ahead of myself
Omar Shakti was an educated man, approaching 50, who wore one of those ridiculous hats they call a fez. His nation's reverence and love of cats was much in evidence as he spent much of his time holding or gently stroking a feline. It was surprisingly unnerving, although I could not quite put my finger on why that might be. He was polite, though, and seemed happy to accomodate us over supper.
We spoke at length about the Carlyle Expedition who were hosted by Mr Shakti several times. It definitely felt like he knew more than he said, but with Louis explaining everything to him, what did he need to say? Sadly, I feel he may have given the enemy significantly more information than we recieved in return. I am also concerned he nearly gave away the game with his excursions in London. I would have said he was drunk, but he did not appear so. It is frustrating that he could be so easily led.
Shakti does appear to have been lying in some cases. Violet is sure he knows more about ancient Egypt than he let on. His claims to merely be an amiable Egyptian friend of the Penhew Foundation feel suspicious, and not just because I am becoming convinced that there is something rotten to the very core of the Foundation itself. He claims to have known Aubrey Penhew prior to the fated Carlyle Expedition, which only ratchets up my suspicions.
I have no proof of any of this, but the coincidences are mounting. The workers in Memphis and at Shakti's, the supplicants at Gavigan's- these are not the happenings of good and honest men and the work they produce. I know enough of man to know that when the spirit is broken so fully, it is usually due to a reason other than nature.
At the core of these incidences are a group of men who I cannot but think of as dark and mysterious. On the one hand, I desire greatly to follow logic and reason, but the mounting evidence of their belief in the tales of yore that we have come across borders on the religious, which is often at peculiar odds with the logical. I can, of course, understand the power of faith and how it may move a man. What I begin to wonder is what happens if that faith is misplaced, or directed in such a way as to go against the nature of man?
These philosophical thoughts plague me. I have decided simply to accept that anyone with any connection to the Penhew Foundation should be regarded as suspicious and treated with the utmost caution. Even if you do not believe in cults and monsters, as I, it is impossible to dismiss the truly terrible manner in which their hired men live. I may not have seen physical harm upon their bodies, but their spirits are broken as surely as if they were slaves. I cannot imagine a man who had a spark of goodness who would allow their hired help to dwell like that.
I hope to have better, less ponderous musings for you tomorrow. We shall go south to investigate a few other leads and no doubt view more pyramids. Really, when I thought of pyramids before I thought they were rare and special. Having seen so many, now, their charm has begun to pale.
Rose
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