Where Heliopolis was a city by reputation, Memphis was one by right. It was ten times the size of any place Josef had ever seen, Kadesh, Megiddo and Heliopolis combined would make a mere suburb of this vast urban sprawl. For the greater part of an hour they’d been passing through outlying villages and hamlets, as the Tears of Isis split into a hundred winding distributaries that passed both through and around the northern capital. Josef’s head arched upwards. The giant crenulated walls climbed to impossible heights, and behind them towered something even higher. A truly gargantuan temple that made the one in Heliopolis look less than a young boy’s castle of sand. It ripped the heavens like a spear, soaring to what must have been three hundred feet above the city below. “The great temple of Ptah, home of the Memphite Triad,” Solon said in tones that suggested he wasn’t sure if his companion had known. As they drew closer, Josef saw what he was looking for; Amenhotep’s host.
