Ardeth bellowed his warcry and attacked his opponent, who only just managed to deflect his sword. Whirling around, the dark-robed attacker tried a standard thrust-parry move, which failed instantly. Ardeth began to move faster, flicking his sword in and out of the air in hopes of inspiring his opponent. "Can't you be more original?" he shouted over the din of their swords. Panting, the warrior did not reply, only just managing to block all of Ardeth's thrusts. Finally he stumbled backwards, wearied, and fell, bringing his sword up in a feeble attempt to block the Med-jai chief's killing move. Ardeth's sword stopped inches from the warrior's enrobed throat, and he crouched down to join him, not moving the sword. "You're dead," he told him matter-of-factly. Whisk! The sword was back in his belt and Ardeth was offering a hand to the warrior, who, after putting away his own sword, took it and stumbled to his feet, dusting sand away from his robes.

"Remember that next time you fight. What you have learned will not suffice," he told the panting young man, raising his voice so that the spectators could hear. "You must be able to improvise! You must be ready to handle any situation that is presented to you! The bandits will not be so forgiving as I have been," he turned to face his warriors, who were listening intently, "and they will not care about the 'right way' to do things. There is no honor among the outcast." The Med-jai nodded and shouted the warcry together, signaling their understanding. Ardeth and the young warrior bowed to each other and made their way back to the main camp. Ardeth always enjoyed training sessions. It got his men thinking, got them trying new things. There was always someone who surprised him with a tactic he had not thought of. Ardeth was a firm believer in preparedness, having been taught by experience that the most unbelievable things could happen practically without warning.

At first he thought it was his imagination, so he ignored it. Then he heard it again: "Ardeth!" A faint voice was calling his name. He spun around, squinting in the desert sun. "Ardeth!" The voice was slightly clearer now, and he thought he recognized it. "Stay here," he told his men in Arabic, and jogged towards the voice. After a few yards, he could see the tiny outlines of three camels, making their way towards them. Eyes narrowed, he had a sudden idea about who it was on those camels. "O'Connell?" He shouted. The answer came back: "Ardeth!" That was definitely Evy's voice. He shook his head. What were they doing so close to the City of the Dead? If they thought he would allow them inside, then they would have to turn right around. It was dangerous for them to be even this near. They had no idea of the kind of consequences that happened when they made their way through ancient places.

"Isn't this lucky, Rick?" Evy exclaimed. "We've stumbled upon Ardeth already! We're not even that close to the City…" Rick squinted ahead at the miniscule black figure. "He doesn't look especially happy to see us. I think he's shaking his head." Evy waved aside his comments. "Nonsense. He's probably delighted to see us again. Ardeth!" She called again, nearly deafening Rick. "Ow! Honey, take it easy, I'm sure he sees us by now. You don't have to keep yelling." Evy looked at him sheepishly. "I'm sorry, darling." Alex said nothing, absorbed in his own thoughts. He thought he had seen a fight, just a minute ago. Ardeth had been battling. If I could learn to fight like that, he thought, then I could take out Imhotep and all his dead friends.

Ardeth sighed internally. Already he could see a dozen reasons why the O'Connells shouldn't be here, and another dozen why he should just turn and go before they'd even said good morning. He had to ignore his instincts for now and just grit his teeth and say hello, yes I'm fine, goodbye, have a nice flight back to London. He knew it was too much to hope, however, that the O'Connells (led by Evy, he was guessing) weren't up to something that involved Hamunaptra, himself, or the Book of the Dead. He turned around. "It's all right," he called to his men in their language, "It's the O'Connells." They let out a collective breath and began to mutter among themselves. Ardeth found it a bit amusing that every single Med-jai in Egypt knew the O'Connells by name and face. That little family was a legend among his people. Watching the camels, he saw them speed up and gallop to meet him.

"Yah!" Evy hit her camel and it sprang forward, sprinting towards the mass of dark-robed Arabians. She heard her boys doing the same behind her. Within seconds she could see Ardeth much clearer, and in just a few more she was in front of the Med-jai leader, getting off her camel. The tattooed Arabian bowed fluidly and said, "Greetings, Evy. It gives me great pleasure to see you again." Evy smiled warmly at her old friend and hugged him. Rick shook the man's hand, and Alex asked hesitantly, "Where'd you learn to fight like that?" Momentarily startled, Ardeth realized what he meant. "My people have always been warriors, Alex." Alex looked up at him unblinkingly. "I want to learn," he said. Ardeth thought about that. "Perhaps," he said guardedly. He looked at Evy. "Will you stay with us tonight?" He wasn't about to mention Hamunaptra, and Evy wasn't either. He wanted the O'Connells where he could see them, under the close watch of his men. They would not slip past him tonight. Evy nodded almost immediately. "I would be delighted, Ardeth," she said happily. Alex grinned too. Only Rick was a bit uncomfortable. The Med-jai made him nervous, seeing as how he was apparently one of them. It didn't make any sense, but that didn't make him feel any better.