By Wilbur Smith

For 4,000 years, the lavish crypt of the Pharaoh Mamose hasn't ever been found...until the 7th Scroll, a cryptic message written through he slave Taita, provides appealing Egyptologist Royan Al Simma a tantalizing clue to its location.

But this can be a treasure cache others may kill to own. just one step sooner than assassins, Royan runs for her existence and into the fingers of the single guy she will be able to belief, Sir Nicholas Quenton-Harper--a bold guy who will stake his fortune and his existence to affix her hunt for the king's tomb. jointly, they're going to embark on a wide ranging trip to the main unique locale in the world, the place the best secret of historic Egypt, a chilling chance and an explosive ardour are waiting.

Steeped in old secret, drama and motion, The 7th Scroll is a masterpiece from Wilbur Smith, a storyteller on the top of his powers.

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Sample text

Then gradually she brought her panic under control. She glanced back, but saw nobody following her. As she reached the edge of the lake she slowed her run to conserve her strength, and she became aware of the warm trickle of her own blood down her arm and then dripping from her finger-tips. and rested her back against the rough hole of one of the palms while she tore a strip of cloth from her ripped blouse and hurriedly bound up her arm. She was shaking so much from shock and exertion that even her uninjured hand was fumbling and clumsy.

She stopped in the centre of the terrace and stared in horror into the burning room. Was Duraid in there? She started forward, but the heat was like a solid wall and it stopped her dead. At that moment the roof collapsed, sending a roaring column of sparks and flames high into the night sky. She backed away from it, shielding her face with a raised arm. Duraid tried to call to her, but no sound issued from his smoke-scorched throat. Royan turned away and started down the steps. He realized that she must be going to call for help.

Ramesses II, the greatest of them all, had reigned sixty-seven years and had spent those decades accumulating his funerary treasure from all the vast territories that he had conquered. Royan went next to pay her respects to the old king. After thirty centuries Ramesses II slept on with a rapt and serene expression on his gaunt features. His skin had a light, marble-like sheen to it. The sparse strands of his hair were blond and dyed with henna. His hands, dyed with the same stuff, were long and thin and elegant.

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The Seventh Scroll (A Novel of Ancient Egypt) by Wilbur Smith

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