The God Catcher

An impoverished orphan tries to win a place as a painter in Tutankhamen's unbuilt tomb.  When his father dies, young Ramses' life begins to fall apart. Life on their farm had been so wonderful, as steady and bright as the Egyptian sun. Now, however, he's an orphan in his own home.
People whisper that Ramses caused his father's death. They say his skill at drawing is something no farm boy should have. They say his drawings angered the gods, who struck down his parents as punishment. It's a thought too horrible to face. Could it be true?
In the dark days that loom ahead, Ramses begins a desperate search for answers about his identity.  This well researched story, set in the golden era of Tutankhamen or 'King Tut', combines fact, fiction, and the magic superstition that formed an important part of life in ancient Egypt. Anyone interested in archaeology and art history will be fascinated with this inside look into the lives of tomb builders: the people who painted, sculpted and carved the ancient burial sites of Pharaohs. The village that captures our hero's hope, originally called The Place of Truth and now known as Deir El Medina, still exists. Its archaeological remains can be visited today.Lexile: 490-570      Praise for Scott Peters' books:   "Peters is such a natural and gifted storyteller"  ~ Steve Donoghue, Historical Novel Society  Keep reading for an excerpt   The boy jerked back in shock.   What had he done?  Drawings surrounded him on all sides. They covered the Nile's soft, sloping riverbank, all grooved into the sand with his sharpened stick. A chariot fight. A pair of wrestlers. A panther chasing a fleeing gazelle.   But that's not what he was staring at.  Was it an illusion? Was it the wind?  He focused on his drawing of Osiris.   No. There it was again! Osiris's eyes--eyes made of sand--were moving. They shifted to the acacia stick in the boy's hand. The god's gaze locked onto it. The eerie sand-eyes studied the simple tool that had drawn his huge form on the riverbank. After a moment, the sand-eyes shifted back to Ramses' terrified face.   Ramses sucked in a shallow breath. The air felt suffocating as a tomb.   What had he been thinking--drawing the God of the Underworld?   Why, when he'd never drawn a single god in his life, had he done so now?  Because he hadn't been thinking. That's why. He'd been drawing mindlessly, his worries elsewhere. He'd been thinking about his father and the strange priest, back at the farmhouse.   Standing in the dense heat, Ramses tried to tear his gaze from the god's painful radiance. The hot earth had grown almost blinding. It hurt to look at Osiris.   Ramses' throat went dry as the desert.  A strange, crackling tension spread around them, filling the clearing. On the ground, the God of the Underworld seemed to shift, first left and then right. Just a tiny amount, but enough to make the lines in the sand shudder. Ramses couldn't move.   Osiris's image expanded a fraction. Then the shifting started again. Back and forth. Back and forth. Faster. Stronger.  Something whispered over Ramses. His skin turned cold. It was an ibis bird. The movement broke the spell. Ramses fell back a few feet, breathing hard. Meanwhile, the white winged creature came to rest on the Nile's dark surface. Opening its curved beak, it pecked at the floating reeds.  On the ground, Osiris went still.  I was seeing things, Ramses told himself. It was an illusion! Just the heat. A mirage.  He wanted to believe it--that he'd dreamed it all. But this wasn't the first time something like it had happened.