Author's note: [chapter revised in 2019] Yep, fifth chapter already. Great Scott, how time flies :o) Now, the title of this one is from an Eddie Cochran song, and although the titular market is in New Orleans, it fits the chapter.
Now, this one not only does feature another little Evy/Rick scenes – I love writing scenes like these :o) – but also *drum roll* Ardeth! And tell you what? He's been awfully difficult to write. But don't worry, he'll be back – can't have a proper Mummy story, in Egypt, complete with stolen ancient artefact and cursed place without our favourite Medjai, now, can we?
Disclaimer: Stephen Sommers owns and developed The Mummy and The Mummy Returns; the characters, places, some situations are his creation. Some things I did make up, but every character here is fictitious, and doesn't have anything to do with any person, living, dead, or in-between. Who knows.
FAIRY TALES AND HOKUM
Chapter 5: Market Place
The next couple of days were surprisingly uneventful, by the O'Connell standards in any case. Rick quickly got over his initial fury, mollified by the absence of notable events – apart from the actual theft of the diamond, and the fact that his brother-in-law avoided going out on nights for two days. That surprised Rick to no end, although, come to think of it, Jonathan really didn't seem up to it. The man did look like he had been visited by the mother of all hangovers, although Rick knew that wasn't the case. For once.
But of course, the real reason why his anger died down so fast was Evelyn. The look on her face when she had gone to bed that night was something he had never seen before: sadness, and defeat. Evy never let herself be overcome by defeat, never. That had made him wonder silently as she slipped into their bed, not saying a word either. And it was the first thought that sneaked back into his mind when he woke up the morning after.
"Honey? You awake?"
She slept with her back to him after huddling against his chest during the night. Although this felt very comfortable, Rick always preferred it when she faced him, so he could watch her as she dreamed, and the funny faces she made then. It was also because of those little things, which he couldn't live without, that Rick never regretted marrying her.
There were some other things that he found he definitely could do without, though. Like her misguided, so very annoying sense of responsibility – if she could take the blame for every damn mummy rising in Egypt or elsewhere, she would do it. She would always try to set things right no matter what the potential for catastrophe.
But she also had a way of making him feel like a complete heel every time he didn't agree with her on something that was important to her. As long as it wasn't life-threatening, that was okay, but right now, he was feeling downright miserable because of the way his wife had looked before she went to bed. And despite the fact that he was still certain that the idea of staying longer in Egypt was the worst since opening the chest with the Bracelet of Anubis, he was well aware that there was nothing he wouldn't do to make Evy smile again.
His whisper was answered by a stir of the lovely round shoulders in front of him, and a muffled, sleepy voice, "Yes, dear… I'm awake."
He put a tender hand on her shoulder, and planted a few small kisses on the back of her neck. "Evelyn – look, I'm sorry about yesterday." Even after all these years, even to her, he still had some trouble apologising. And she knew it. He heard a slight change in her breathing. "I didn't mean what I said. I mean, I meant it then, but I didn't mean to mean it – I was just angry, and worried, is all."
Evy turned slightly, and he could partly see her face over her shoulder. Her eyes were shining in the half-light of the rising sun behind the shutters.
"I know you were worried. We've already gone through that before. But that doesn't excuse your words, Rick. And it certainly doesn't solve the problem."
"Which problem are we talking about, exactly?" So many problems had appeared with the disappearance of that diamond, he didn't know which one to pick.
"You told me very clearly that you wouldn't be part of anything, this time. That I can understand. But –"
"No, please – the real problem is that I don't want to get involved in this, but you do, quite obviously. And there's another problem: each time you get involved in something when you shouldn't, something happens and you're caught right in the middle of it. That is what I don't want to happen."
To his amazement, Evy let out a little laugh, which shook her shoulders slightly. She rolled on her back and looked at him from the corner of her eye.
"What's so funny?"
"You. Jonathan said pretty much the same thing yesterday, almost to the word – that he didn't want to get 'involved', but that I clearly did. And he was very upset about that last part – even angry, I'd say."
"That shows your brother's making sense. For once, I completely agree with him." And that barely an exaggeration considering the number of things they disagreed on. "By the way… I didn't have time to ask yesterday – is he okay?"
This time, Evelyn turned to him, and he could see her entire face. It was a welcome sight, especially given the fact that she was still smiling slightly.
"He will be. But he had me thoroughly afraid for a little while." Her smile vanished, and she gazed into the space in front of her. When she looked back at him, her eyes were serious. "Believe me, darling, I'm not doing it for… for thrills or some misplaced notion of fun. The Bracelet, the Sceptre – every object linked to Ahm Shere caused pain to the world, and to us in particular, and I have a feeling that this diamond might not be an exception to the rule. I want to see it safe, because I want to see you safe. You, Alex, Jonathan – you're my only family, and I can't bear to think about any of you getting hurt."
Rick listened silently. Voiced that way, her motives made complete sense. His fury of yesterday had been fuelled by the fear he had of losing Evy or Alex again, and the need he felt to protect his family. Evy had had exactly the same reaction, only taking different decisions, in her own true way. And while such decisions were annoying as hell, they were also understandable.
"That's very thoughtful of you, sweetheart, I appreciate that," he sighed with a smile to signal his surrender. "But I'd like to point out to you that you were the one who died last time. So allow me to feel a little unsure about all this."
Her eyes grew sadder, and she snuggled against him. He held her back, taking the opportunity to caress the soft skin of her arms, immensely glad that the fight was over.
"So… does that mean you will still be with me?"
"Frankly, Evy –" Rick slightly shook his head, incredulous. "I can't believe you are asking me that. Of course I will – I always will. That's what this ring stands for, doesn't it? I love you, and I'll always be with you… Even if that means putting up with your – what'd Jonathan say the other day? Those Englishmen, they do have a knack for understatements… 'idiosyncrasies.' Yeah, that's it."
He grinned at her, and she gave a broad smile. Their faces were so close that their foreheads were almost touching. From there he could look properly at her features and her bright eyes, count the few freckles on her nose, and see the small lines that had begun to creep at the corners of her eyes. Rick found himself liking those lines. Each one meant something they had gone through together, a moment they had lived together, a laugh or a worry they had shared. And he didn't mind lines on his own face, as long as they mirrored his wife's. He wanted to live with her, and that also meant growing old with her.
And it really couldn't hurt if she was still kissing like that in twenty years, he thought as their lips touched.
Mmh… Definitely not.
"You still have no idea what you'll give Mum for her birthday, have you?"
Alex stopped in his tracks and squinted up at his uncle with a frown. Even at this hour in the morning, the sunlight made his eyes ache slightly whenever he looked up from his shoes.
Uncle Jon squinted back, his eyes reduced to a pair of blue slits. "I'll have you know that I've been thoroughly looking for a gift for quite some time. Really. I just seem to be unable to find the perfect present, that's all."
Alex waited, feeling that something was still to come.
"Having said that, I remain open to suggestions."
"I knew it." Alex rolled his eyes. "You don't have a clue."
"I do!" retorted Jonathan indignantly.
"You don't."
"I do, too!"
"You don't!"
"I do!"
"You don't!"
"I do!"
"You don't!"
"I don't!"
"You do!" Alex closed his mouth with a snap just after uttering the last syllable, realising that he'd been had. He glared at his uncle, who was chuckling discreetly.
"That wasn't playing fair, Uncle Jon."
"You're right, partner," Jonathan said with a laugh. "Next time I'll be more of a sport."
Alex nodded his approval seriously, and straightened the solar topee on his head, wishing that it was not so big. The thing kept sliding off, and it was really annoying. It was nine in the morning, and uncle and nephew had sneaked out to the bazaar, leaving a note to Mum and Dad on the kitchen table. His parents had not come out of their room yet. Uncle Jon had said something about the two of them still having some making up to do leftover from their fight the day before yesterday, and as Alex realised that it would involve a lot of kissing, hugging and other dubious stuff, he'd been more than happy to go outside and help his uncle find a fitting present for Mum.
They had just arrived at the bazaar: a large esplanade a little outside the centre of the city with ground of hard-packed earth, where quite a number of tents had been pitched, some more crookedly than others. Behind many, always nearby, the owners' mules or camels were peacefully chewing on what they could; those who could afford a shaded spot for their beasts, let alone some extra fresh food, were lucky and rare.
Alex always liked bazaars, Cairo's bazaar in particular, with its bright colours, strong smells, loud noises, and never-ending movements. The robes of men in coloured djellabas and women with stern eyes brushed past him as he let his eyes wander endlessly, reminding him of his dislike of still walking at armpit-level. But that familiar feeling didn't alter the pleasure of being there. There was so much to see at once, and hear, and feel.
"Want some sound advice, Alex?" said Uncle Jon, his long hand clutching his nephew's. "Keep an eye out for hustlers. There are so many unscrupulous characters in this world, you may not know them before they swindle you, you mark my words."
The boy refrained from observing slyly that there had been some times when his uncle had not shown many qualms over a few shady deeds of his own – after all, Jonathan had been the one who had taught Alex how to open a door without a key, something Mum never needed to know – and tightened his hand around the few English coins he had in the pocket of his shorts. It wasn't much, but it was his, and Mum wouldn't like it if he lost his money.
"Here – what d'you think of those?" Jonathan was pointing to a display of golden trinkets of faux Ancient Egyptian style. Alex shook his head.
"That's a knockoff, Uncle Jon. She won't like it."
"I know this one's fake, I mean this sort of style could do the trick," grumbled Jonathan, obviously offended that his own nephew didn't believe him capable of telling a false treasure from a genuine one. Alex was perfectly aware of his uncle's knowledge when it came to gold. But it was fun to tease him. He fell for it every time, just like Mum when Dad teased her.
"Why don't you buy her a dress or something? She did like the last one you gave her."
Jonathan shrugged. "Your dad's already offering her a new set of 'adventurer's' clothes, the kind she likes to wear here, with trousers and stuff."
Alex smirked.
"Don't you like it when she wears trousers then?"
A non-committal noise accompanied a second shrug.
"It's not that I don't like it. I happen to find it rather distasteful, but as long as she's comfortable… Evy's always been pigheaded when it came to her appearance. Have you seen pictures of her before she met your dad?"
Oh, yes he had. It was hard to think that his mum had once looked like that, a young girl with old-fashioned clothes, little round glasses, a tight bun, and such a bossy air about her. She still used glasses to read, but much thinner than they had been, and she let her hair down most of the time. And the skirts she wore now were nothing like the long, stiff-looking ones she used to wear.
"Yeah. She looked like Mrs Blimp – sorry, Mrs Blinppiditch, my old teacher."
"I suppose that's saying a lot." It was Jonathan's turn to smirk. "What I mean is that your mum doesn't care a jot about clothes and whatnot, and it's always been like that. She wouldn't hear a single word about it. When you were on your way – not born yet – Rick and I talked her into wearing light dresses, and I think your dad enjoyed that a lot. But as soon as she was back in Egypt with her hammers and chisels, she found out that trousers were more practical than dresses and skirts. Which is, I'm sure, not untrue."
Alex, who only wore long trousers on Sundays and important occasions, did not fully agree with him. Shorts were indeed quite handy here in Egypt, more so than longer ones; if he wanted to climb up a wall or a tree, his mum would surely be more inclined to punish him if any harm came to the precious trousers. He preferred by far her fussing over a pair of scraped knees than ruined trouser legs.
Then again, the thought of his mum in short trousers made him cringe inwardly. What would the lads say, at school? They always said that his mum was quite pretty – as much for a girl as for a mum – but some already sniggered when she came to get him at the gates, after school, and fussed over him like he was still a little kid. This sort of thing could ruin a lad's reputation if he was not careful. Of course he was glad whenever he saw her, especially after what happened at Ahm Shere, but… sometimes he wished she could just leave him alone.
Problem was, this kind of thinking often bothered him. You couldn't go thinking that way about your mum, could you?
"What's so nice about dresses, then?"
"Don't ask me. I haven't been in a dress since that panto in sixth form and you won't get me to remember that disaster as long as I live."
Alex chuckled. "I'll ask Ardeth Bay, then. He's the only guy I know who wears something close enough."
"Now look here, you –" Uncle Jon looked as if he wanted to scold him, but couldn't quite do it because of the smile he was trying to hide. He did that very often. "Don't go joking about Medjai clothes, especially around him. They can be a little touchy about some stuff. And besides, if someone deserves respect, it's him. The number of times that bloke saved our necks…"
"I didn't mean to be disrespectful, honest!" said Alex, who had had a great admiration for the Medjai chieftain ever since he first saw him, years and years ago on his first trip to Egypt. Even if the man's sense of humour seemed to appear just as often as Uncle Jon's conscience did. "And don't worry, I'm not daft enough to joke about that in front of him."
"I believe the English phrase for this sort of situation is, 'Speak of the devil'…" said a quiet voice with an Eastern lilt somewhere near Jonathan. Alex's uncle gave a start and turned wide eyes at the dark-clad shadow who had seemed to appear out of thin air just beside him. Ardeth Bay was standing there, wearing a dark brown cloak over his black and silver Medjai robes. His bright eyes were smiling as he lowered his hood.
"I say," stammered Jonathan, one hand clutching his heart, "it's jolly good to see you, Ardeth, old boy, but I'm getting a mite old for this sort of scare. How's the family?"
"A pleasure to see you too, my friend." Ardeth laughed quietly, shaking Uncle Jon's hand as colour crept back up to the latter's face. "They're very well, thank you for asking. Ineni still worries that Maira is too serious for her age, and Sabni now insists on following his sister everywhere, even when he shouldn't."
"Don't I know the feeling," said Jonathan fervently. Ardeth smiled at that, then gave a nod to Alex. The boy could have sworn that the dark eyes were twinkling.
"Good morning, Alex O'Connell. Don't worry about offending me with jokes, I know you have good intentions. And a little humour at times cannot hurt."
Okay. Point taken. It wasn't the first time Alex thought the strange man could read minds.
"Hi, Ardeth," he said with a grin, looking up and trying not to squint too much. Bloody light. "You're here for the diamond, aren't you?"
Ardeth raised his black eyebrows. "I see that the habit of getting straight to the point has passed on to the next generation in the O'Connell family." Alex felt his cheeks grow warmer in spite of himself. If there was a person in the world who could, with a single glance, put him in his place, make sure he stayed there for a couple of seconds, and manage to not make him feel rotten in the meanwhile, it was this man. He sure was imposing enough for it.
"Yes, I am indeed heading for the museum. Dr Hakim sent for me, and I set off as soon as I received the message."
"That was pretty fast," commented Jonathan with a low whistle as they walked a little away from the crowd of the bazaar. Ardeth nodded.
"In times of need, I have Neith to help me."
Something dawned on Alex's uncle's face. "Oh – like Horus?"
"C'mon, Uncle Jon, Neith's nothing to do with Horus in Egyptian Mythology!" Alex protested, unwilling to believe that Jonathan had forgotten that part. He had spent whole nights talking about Egyptian legends with his uncle when he couldn't sleep.
"You are mistaken, young O'Connell," said Ardeth. "Your uncle was speaking of a falcon friend of mine who once was of great help to me, sending word to the Twelve Tribes before the Rising of the Army of Anubis two years ago. I was quite grieved when he was killed over the Oasis of Ahm Shere."
"Oh – sorry." Alex felt uncomfortable. Not just because of his mistake, but also because of something that had seemed, for a split second, to cloud over the bright eyes. Even if all had been set up ages before it happened, as his mum had told him, it still seemed that a lot of people had got hurt as a direct consequence of his putting on the Bracelet. 'No harm ever came from putting on a bracelet', his mum would say, according to Dad. Well, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
"No harm done, Alexander," said Ardeth, and Alex was somewhat relieved to see that his eyes were still smiling. Even though he still didn't like it at all when people called him by his full name, even if it was Ardeth, who always called Mum 'Evelyn', not 'Evy' like Dad and his uncle Jon. "Neith is indeed a falcon; she's fast, and quite clever, which is why Fahad sends her for long distance messages. And he's explained everything that happened the day before yesterday."
Alex saw the dark eyes flicker to the light bandage that showed slightly under Jonathan's hat. Mum had insisted that he wore it till tonight, and he had reluctantly conceded.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes, head hard as a rock – blighter banged with all his might, though. Thanks for the concern," Jonathan said with a smile. Then he winced. "Blast it, now I think of it… As my ever so subtle brother-in-law once put it, 'You're here, bad guys are here'… There's all this ominous doom and gloom going on with that blasted diamond… All we need now is Evy getting kidnapped, God forbid –"
"And another raising of the Creature happens?" ended Ardeth, one black eyebrow raised. The thought of someone's sense of humour going on a holiday crossed Alex's mind, and he clung to this idea to avoid thinking about the cold, empty eyes of Imhotep. "Hamunaptra has remained quiet ever since Hafez's men stopped digging. We found the Book of the Living there, and we keep it under close watch, night and day. As for the Creature itself… Lucky would be the one who could manage to find its body under the sands of Ahm Shere. Besides, according to what Evelyn and O'Connell told me, it's very unlikely that he would even be willing to be raised a third time. His love abandoned him."
"You know, I still can't believe how hurt he looked back then," Uncle Jon said, looking thoughtful. "I actually felt sorry for the bloke, despite the whole Evil Mummy Enemy thing and everything he'd done. If he still had a heart at that point, I bet we all could've heard it shatter into little pieces."
"Despite all the ancient resentment of my people against the Creature, I probably would have felt pity for him as well, had I been there," Ardeth said, not departing from his quiet smile. "Feeling pity for an enemy can be thought of as a weakness by some, but it is one of our prerogatives as human beings."
For all the respect he had for the serious Medjai leader, Alex could not understand this knack of his for long, intricate sentences that sounded like riddles. And it was a little bit frustrating to never be sure whether these were riddles or not. The only sign was the grin Ardeth would give afterwards, brief but always striking with a flash of white teeth against skin the colour of light coffee.
The grin came, although slightly subdued. "Nothing has been decided yet, so you do not have to worry," said the Medjai, before looking intently at Jonathan and Alex in turn. "All I ask from you and your family is to keep yourselves out of this as much as possible. I don't doubt that you would only be trying to help, but I don't think that it would be a good idea, much as I value your aid and your friendship."
"Tell that to Mum," muttered Alex, scuffing at a little patch of earth. Ardeth's eyes flashed to him.
"Your mother is known as a person who'll do whatever she thinks is right," he said seriously, "and even if that has led her into trouble, it is still something to respect. Besides, not many people can say they were instrumental in saving the world twice." Then the hint of a smile flickered over his face. "Although I must say that, despite all her good intentions, Evelyn O'Connell is also known for her stubbornness and her tendency of getting where she shouldn't."
"Amen to that, my friend!" Uncle Jon said with a wide grin, his blue eyes twinkling. "You seldom spoke a truer truth."
The three of them shared a knowing smile. Then Ardeth looked around, before replacing the hood of his brown cloak over his head. His eyes, almost hidden in shadow, came to rest on Jonathan, and Alex in turn.
"Be sure to send my regards to Evelyn and O'Connell," he said. "I don't know whether I will be able to greet them myself."
"Oh, come on, old chap, you're always welcome to drop by anytime," protested Uncle Jon heartily.
"Yeah," added Alex. "It'd be smashing if you could come over some time. Really spiffing."
Ardeth raised an eyebrow. "I suppose that means you'd be happy to see me?"
Alex chose to take that seriously. "Of course, honestly –" The crooked grin told him that someone's sense of humour was back from holiday. Ardeth's quiet chuckle echoed his.
"I may be seeing you in the future, then. Till then, good day."
And he was gone. Only one second, and he had vanished into the crowd, his cloak blending perfectly.
"Do you know," Jonathan said, squinting in the sun before lowering his eyes to his nephew, "I think Ardeth might enjoy being the dark and mysterious figure a little too much for his own good."
"Probably," answered Alex, as he felt a grin pull at the corner of his mouth. "But he does a darn great job of it. So who cares?"
This earned him a small laugh from his uncle Jon, who grinned down. "Let it be remembered that you were the voice of reason on this one, son."
They were both laughing as they returned to the crowd of the bazaar. However, after a little while spent at looking at tents where they sold elaborate tea sets, hookahs, and loads of other jewellery, they had returned to arguing about Alex's mum's birthday.
"I'm just saying that you're being entirely too negative about all this – there, look, maybe a good book will do nicely!"
They had just come across a display of a few old-looking books, and Alex had to admit that Jonathan was right. His mum loved books, especially old ones, and among these old ones she was mad about everything that had anything to do with Egypt.
They made for the table where the books lay, but Alex was growing more and more sceptical about it. There were few books he knew of which Mum didn't have already. Still, it might be worth a try.
His hopes slowly dwindled as the two browsed the titles on the tattered covers, recognising most of the books for having seen them somewhere, either in the mansion – as Alex liked to call it – or their smaller house in Cairo.
"Tough luck," sighed Uncle Jon as he put down yet another book, this one with the words Cult of Cats in the XIIth Dynasty embossed in gold on the cover. "Seems that my dear sister owns every damn book out there about Egypt…"
"Jon? 'That you?"
Jonathan turned, and Alex peered around his uncle to see Tom Ferguson standing near the table, a smile on his broad face.
"Hullo, Tommy," said Jonathan, looking equally pleased. "Looking for something in particular?"
"Nah, not really." Tommy shook his head, blond hair falling into his eyes. "I come to this tent every day to see if there's somethin' new out – I told you the other day I just have this thing for old books." He leant over the table to greet the owner of the tent, who seemed to know him; they exchanged a few words in Arabic, which Alex didn't catch all of, although he did understand that Tommy was asking for new acquisitions. He got a negative answer, and nodded his thanks, looking disappointed; then he turned back to Jonathan.
"Too bad… Been a couple of days since they got something new. What about you? What're you doing here?"
"Playing at knight of the Quest for the Ultimate Birthday Present," deadpanned Uncle Jon despondently, making his nephew chortle. "Evy's birthday's in three weeks, and I still haven't got anything to give her."
"Starting to get a little panicked there, are ya?" Tommy gave a laugh. "I know the feeling. You should see the rush I get into every year when it's Liz's birthday."
"Is Liz your sister then?" asked Alex. If it was, then he was definitely not keen on having a little sibling some day. He had enough trouble managing to scrape together for presents for three people on Christmases and birthdays.
Tommy smiled. "No, Elizabeth's me wife."
"Ah – sorry, my mistake." But that didn't make Alex change his mind about little siblings.
"Oh, before I forget!" exclaimed Tommy, switching subjects with an easiness that made Alex wonder. "Good thing I bumped into you now, 'cause Hamilton'd like to see you about what happened the day before yesterday – for the report, you know. I was going to send you a telegram, but since you're here… Tomorrow at four."
"Hamilton? Your boss?" Jonathan frowned. "Why's that? Isn't your report enough?"
Tommy shrugged. "That's the rule of the Department – gather information from as many sources as possible. You must've noticed that with the file I lent you."
There was a short silence, then Tommy gave a nod towards Jonathan's head, and asked rather uncomfortably, "Speaking of the other day… Does it still hurt?"
Jonathan rolled his eyes. "What are you people making such a fuss for, honestly? I got coshed on the head, so what? I'm quite all right, thank you." Then he stopped, and looked at Tommy, something softening on his face. "What about you?"
"Oh, I'm fine," said Tommy with a wave of his hand. "For once I got lucky – you got the short end of the stick." He was silent for a second, and Alex found that he could relate to the guy's hesitation. He always felt slightly uneasy himself when dealing with concern for someone that wasn't his mum. It was so much easier to be Mum's little boy than a big, tough guy, even if it was more embarrassing… Of course, being Dad's big guy had its advantages. Then again, Dad hadn't been a mum's little boy for very long. That was something Alex just couldn't imagine, a boy without a mum.
At least, he had never come to imagine it before the events at Ahm Shere two years ago. Afterwards, he'd wondered sometimes what his life would've been without his mum, and he had always kept this train of thought brief. As Ardeth had said at some point, while the memories of the past were a precious thing, it did a man no good to dwell upon them. Yes, it had to be something along those lines.
"Not to insist or anything, but – I'm serious, mate, you really got me scared back there. When I came round, I saw your sister bent over you, your head was bleedin'… Believe me, you looked dead."
For once, Alex was glad he was not eye-level with the adults. It would have been difficult not to look too conspicuous as he felt his cheeks lose their colour and his stomach do a somersault. While worry for Mum and Dad when they ventured into those creepy pyramids full of traps had become such a familiar feeling that he was almost used to it, he had never had an opportunity to think that someday, his uncle might not be there. Well, not quite: for a few seconds, down in the pyramid, he'd feared that his mum would be too late to stop that witch Anck-su-namun as her arm came down to stab Jonathan. It would've been awful if his uncle died just as his mum came back. As that old but funny Irish bloke had once said, losing one family member was a tragedy. Losing two was carelessness.
Jonathan looked slightly uncomfortable for a second, then his old grin was back on his face as he quipped, "Well, considering Evy's propensity to wake the dead, I wouldn't have stayed that way for long, would I? Besides, I can recall some occurrences when the two of us ended looking more dead than alive. Let me think, there was this incident with the girls' college…"
Puzzled but highly interested, Alex looked from Uncle Jon to Tommy, whose brown eyes, which had seemed a little dimmed during these last minutes, lit up suddenly. "Oh, yeah, I remember. I reckon I was the one to blame for this… But you chatted up the wrong girl in the Oxford Arms, and we ended up having to hide in that cellar for two days after that."
All right. This was getting more and more interesting, and Alex made a mental note to ask his uncle about it later. He also wondered briefly at Jonathan's disconcerting ability for changing subjects. All trace of uneasiness had disappeared, and the two men wore an identical grin on their faces.
"Well, it's good to see you're all right – and that this blow on your head didn't erase fond school memories," said Tommy with a lopsided smile that Uncle Jon returned. "I do hope that nobody's getting hurt next time we're in the same room, though."
Alex couldn't help but grin. That was something Mum used to say – with a slight variation – the first few times she left him in Jonathan's care for an entire evening. She seemed to think that, as soon as she left them together without her to watch over, disaster would swoop down on the house faster than you could say 'catastrophe'. 'And I hope that nobody will be hurt next time I enter the room!' How many times had he heard it?
"And it's equally good to see that your skull is as hard as it once was," retorted Jonathan in the same tone of voice. "So – tomorrow at four, then?"
"Yeah, at my office. And don't be late!" Tommy said in a mock stern tone, pointing a warning finger at him. "Hamilton can be moderately pleasant when he wants to, but he has a thing for punctuality, and you don't want to be near him when he's in a bad mood."
"I'll keep that in mind, don't worry."
"See ya, then!"
"Cheers!"
Tommy shook Uncle Jon's hand, gently clapped Alex's shoulder and left with a last grin. Unlike Ardeth, who had seemed to merge into the landscape in the twinkling of an eye, it was a little while before his broad frame disappeared from sight.
"Uncle Jon…" said Alex after a few seconds as a thought crossed his mind. "What did happen at that girls' college?"
Blue eyes looked down at him, twinkling. "I do think that if I ever told you, and your dad happened to hear about it, he'd kill me on the spot and put my head in a frame on the wall."
Alex was silent for a moment, long enough to get the mental picture right; then he grinned up at Jonathan. "And what about this – 'incident' in the Oxford Arms? You could tell me about that, couldn't you?"
Jonathan scratched the back of his neck before grinning sheepishly. "If I did, then your dad would have to dig me up so he could kill me again. Oh, and I'm sure your mum would give him a hand."
Whoa. It sounded definitely worth it. "That bad, eh?"
"Maybe when you're a little older. Just a little." It really had to be serious, because Alex knew that his uncle was aware of his dislike for such excuses. To his credit, he didn't use them very often.
"But you will tell me some day, right, Uncle Jon?" he asked earnestly. Jonathan grinned.
"Right-ho, partner. Promise I will. Now let's get a present for your mum, shall we?"
Happy to have his uncle's promise, Alex followed him into the coloured crowd of robes and suits, still clinging to his hand.
Not a piece of jewellery, not a dress, not a book… Maybe a camel would do the trick, after all.
How would you like a camel for your birthday, my friends? :D
Notes/Translations:
A solar topee is a pith helmet.
Pantomine – a play where every male character is played by a woman, and vice versa. I actually did one about Snow White when I studied English in uni. I played a stoner version of either Sleepy or Sneezy (don't remember which). It was hilarious and I had a great time.
We don't know much about Medjai naming traditions, do we? The only one we have is Ardeth, which comes from Hebrew and is traditionally a female name. I ended up giving the Medjai both Egyptian and Ancient Egyptian first names.
The "old but funny Irish bloke" was Oscar Wilde, in The Importance of Being Earnest: "To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness."