Speak Softly
Better Late Than Dead

1935: Ardeth Bay is resurrected from the dead. He awakens to a world vastly different, to familiar faces changing and to the knowledge that he is Egypt's final hope for freedom.

He also finds out just how far love and despair can take him.

~~~~~~~

The days had passed quickly, yet not quick enough to see him closer to Evelyn. Before Ardeth lay a long stretch of road and behind much the same, the path ahead lit only by the glow of headlights. The chill was already seeping into his extremities, bleeding through the window to his left and covering him like a blanket. In the black he did not see the eyes that strained to view him from the rearview mirror. But he felt them. "How long until we reach the castle?" he asked in a gruff, no-nonsense tone, living the role of Priest of Osiris.

The driver was a younger man of not more than twenty who had sized Ardeth up from head to toe at the pick-up station he had been conveyed to. Ardeth had made no pretense of offense, but merely acted as if he cared not. But he had watched the driver carefully. In front he exhaled and answered, "You see that faint glow up ahead? Barely there? That's it. Can't be more than ten minutes now."

Ardeth crossed his arms, cuddling himself in the cold, and tried to relax his tense muscles. Nashean had told him to continue with the guise Priest of Osiris and had even given him an officially sealed document permitting his passage to the castle. It seemed so easy, so terribly easy. But the real fun would come when it was time to break in. Nashean had also told him from the limo on the choices would fall to him, for there were no contacts hidden in Imhotep's London home.

He shifted in his seat and wondered what Evelyn was doing. She lived still, he could sense through Imhotep's random thoughts. Necromancer's threat had not been carried out. This was his focus and what drove him. Imhotep would be defeated in time, but Evelyn would be saved now. The things his former friend said seemed to never mean exactly what the obvious spoke, but there also seemed to be an element of truth and Ardeth would take no chances to find out what exactly the threat over Evelyn meant.

He was kind to her, soft and patient. In some ways this frightened Ardeth more than if he were the same monster as before. The dreams still troubled him when he slept so that he scarcely wanted to rest at all. Imhotep's pain troubled him, everything about his life. Each dream he felt the human man inside the priest die a little more under the influence of the Hom-Dai. All this for the love of a woman. Not greed, not power. Love.

The Med-Jai ran the back of his finger down the pane of glass, thinking of Evelyn, her softness and her kindness. A well of feeling came over him with thoughts of her, feelings he had never considered would be for her if ever they graced him. What if Imhotep had been a human king, born to Egypt and given the throne without conquering it? What if he had chosen Evelyn as Seti had chosen Ancksunamun? Would he kill to save her from that kind of life?

What if the curse on Imhotep could be undone?

The light around them slowly increased until it could be clearly seen where it came from. The castle ahead grew in size as they closed in and Ardeth inhaled, preparing himself for whatever would come. Would these people know Med-Jai tattoos for what they were? He drew his hood up around him.

They came to a large gate to the inner courtyard and beyond he could see the castle standing, beckoning him with thoughts of blood, battle and his lover-friend. When the car stopped at a guardhouse Ardeth sat straight and gripped the dagger in his robe. The driver rolled his window down. "We received no notification that anyone was coming," a stern-faced, British-accented guard with gray hair stated flatly.

"I tried to call, but the operator said it wouldn't go through," the driver replied quick enough. This alarmed Ardeth. No call had been attempted that he had been aware of, nor had any of the crew at the pick-up station said anything of the sort. This man was lying, but for what purpose? Almost as if he knew… "Here. This priest has clearance from Lord Nashean." Ardeth's papers were handed through.

After a look-through the guard glanced into the back, but said nothing. It was cold and stark; a lifeless job that probably bred little motivation when it came to so clean an entry. Ardeth had proof signed by Nashean and that was good enough. So the gate opened and they were allowed into the courtyard.

On either side snow covered what could have been grass and the road was slick. In the center they came upon a shut down fountain with snow spilling over the edges and beyond was the castle. He could see jackals shifting in the shadows, shaking off drifting flakes of snow and clawing at each other as they stood watch over Imhotep's home. This was where Ardeth expected to be dropped off, but his driver turned right, away from the main entrance. Ardeth tensed and shifted hot fingers over the blade. "Where are you taking me?" he asked with a deliberate edge.

"To the back." No explanation of why.

Ardeth took the dagger from his robe. "Are all official visitors taken to the back, rather than the front?" He gripped the seat in front of him as the car slid a little, but the driver maintained control.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to alarm. No, most officials are sent to the front." Again there was no explanation.

When they reached the end of the castle they turned down a side road flanked by trees and shadow. This place was not illuminated quite as carefully as the front and as far as he could tell, there were no jackals or human guards. Ardeth moved to the edge of his seat with his blade firm in his grip. "Then why are you taking me to the back?" There was no reply to his question.

Ardeth shoved his hands up front and pressed the dagger to his driver's throat. The vehicle slowed to a stop. "I was told to drop you off at the rear," the driver said quickly, clearly startled and annoyed. "You are one of Lady Hess's men, aren't you?"

"And if I am?" the Med-Jai retorted.

The driver exhaled lengthily. "Look, it's none of my business what the Lady does after hours. I was told to watch for a priest in the next few days and bring him here 'on business' and by the looks of you so-called priests, I think I know what sort of business she's in for. You aren't the first take-out ordered in, you know. A man would have to be bloody stupid not to understand what she imported you for and well, you look the part right enough. In any case, I'm not gonna tell the king, if that's what you're worried about. Like I said, it's none of my business so put your knife away. You're supposed to go in through the back door in case Pharaoh's up and about."

So someone was expected. This was a chance to get into the palace without the dangers involved in breaking in and entering. "And the guards in the back, they will let me in?"

"Don't rightly know," the driver replied, straightening his collar when Ardeth pulled the dagger away. "I thought you'd be told what to say. I'm sure if I understand what you're here for, those guards might. All of the Lady's men are delivered out back." The car started moving again and Ardeth leaned back, keeping his eyes peeled and his weapon ready. "Boy, you sure are a dangerous one, aren't you? Lady Hess'll adore that, I'm sure. She looks wild enough in those frigid blues."

To that Ardeth said nothing and stayed silent during the short trip out back. During his lifetime he had worn a few disguises. He had played a beggar in Alexandria once while seeking out a desert raider that had killed the Med-Jai Commander of the Fourth Tribe, had donned the role of merchant a few times to barter for supplies in Cairo and even baited some black-market slavers by pretending to be in the market to sell some of his fellow tribesmen. Sajul and Arya had helped him, as well as a few of the other Med-Jai young men and women, freeing close to a dozen assorted children, two of which had been kidnapped from his own tribe while wandering too far away from adult supervision.

In all his experience with fakery Ardeth had never pretended to be a pleasure consort. Obviously he knew their primary function, but his memory called up the vision of a woman who had approached him in Alexandria. She had been explicit in her attentions, offering even to lower the price because he was, at the time, a beggar with very little money and as she put it, 'worth a discount'. Her eyes had explored him lengthily and her body remained close to his, hands on his shoulders and obvious intent written in her eyes. Ardeth had never seen a male prostitute and had no idea if they acted the same.

He thought also of his cousin Kaiden and knew a man need not be one to behave that way. The car stopped and he saw the guards back here were human. The driver gazed at him through the rearview mirror with amusement written in his eyes. "Let me know how she likes that knife of yours," he snickered and Ardeth narrowed his brows. "Right, right. Sorry."

The Med-Jai exhaled, opened the door and tried to embrace his new role. He had, of course, no idea how long he was going to have to pretend in order to maintain secrecy. Until they left him alone he would have no opportunity to seek Evelyn without exposing himself for what he truly was. The longer he remained disguised, the longer it would be until guards swarmed after him.

The guards at the back entrance eyed him warily as he ascended the stairs and one went so far as to open his mouth until his partner said, "He's one of those dandies the Lady orders. Let him through." They didn't seem entirely impressed with him, but opened the door without further comment.

Ardeth tilted his chin up, painted a condescending little smile on his mouth and passed through, breathing, "Thank you, gentlemen. I do so enjoy my work, exhausting as it may be. It could be worse. I could be standing out in the cold." He grinned when the door slammed shut behind him.

Not bothering with the snow on him, Ardeth looked around at his surroundings. It was softly decorated in here with tones of beige, maroon and gold. Such a warm contrast to Imhotep's Egyptian palace. It was welcoming. Two guards on either side of the door stood and watched him, but offered no inclination to escort him to Lady Hess. He would have to find her himself.

But, of course, he had no intention of doing that. Daring to stretch out a seeking sweep through their bond Ardeth discovered that Imhotep was asleep and dreaming. Of what he could not tell. It was sad, but much of his return had been this way. Would Evelyn be curled up beside him? The thought made his blood run cold.

~~~~~~~

She was touching him tenderly, touching him through her love of his enemy. They never saw him for who he truly was and in this way Imhotep walked the path of Ardeth Bay.

He opened his heavy lids and groaned at the pain he was in. The pain that Ardeth had endured without the escape of death. Oh, how Imhotep wanted death now, even as his enemy had wanted it. He wanted this dream to die and take with it all the rest that would follow. Only once had he been in an anguish that likened to this and even then he had been able to at least move. He could well remember his return from the house of Mentuemhat.

Thoughts of that found bitter residence within the High Priest of the Dead. Near the Oasis of Kharijah was the settlement of the noble Mentuemhat, who had a thing Seti wanted. So Imhotep had gone to get that item, that he could win his king's approval and more. This noble had dared the anger of Osiris by setting his guards upon the High Priest and while he had escaped that night with his life and his bounty, Imhotep had not been left without injury. He had traveled the desert alone for the longest time, caught between life and death, so he knew well the want of escape that coursed through Ardeth at every flinch.

"He tied you into his life force, meaning you won't die until he allows it," she was saying softly, bitterly as she spoke of things he had done and would do. Imhotep opened his eyes to look at her and saw the fear written in her eyes. He found himself angry because he knew had someone else done this to her, he would have punished them. He was not without care for her, after all. But it was he himself that had caused this pain on her face and yet he would let it continue without punishing the guilty. Living through Ardeth Bay was showing him things he did not want to see about himself. "I…I wish things could be different for you."

Despite the pain he moved his fingers, wishing he could touch her. Wishing he could find comfort from this understanding, but she denied him. The words came from his lips unbidden as they always did. They were Bay's, but somehow his even still, somewhere within that terrible heart of his. "I wish things could be different for you." Nefertiri looked away from him and he wondered then why her eyes spoke of guilt. She was blameless. He moved his fingers again, but this time to impart comfort for what he could and for who he was.

Her sigh was soft and sweet to him, but the name on her lips was not his. "Oh, Ardeth."

"Do not worry, Evelyn." His voice trembled with his great pain, spilling forth the name he did not care to call her with. It reminded him that she was not entirely the same person who had cursed him. Imhotep let out a long, tired exhale and wondered to whom it belonged.

Tears again brimmed her dark eyes as she looked on his suffering with that same flash of self-reproach from before. But what she spoke stripped at his compassion and brought him to wait for words of betrayal. "How can I not worry? He could very well let you live and…and do terrible things. He's…" Her hand found his brow again. "I'm sorry. I'm not making you feel better."

Bay sighed and savored her touch as he spoke truthfully. "I am not a child, Evelyn. You don't have to make me feel better. Perhaps he will have mercy this time." Bay didn't believe that for one moment, but even as he assured her he was not a child, he tried to comfort the woman before him with a suggestion he saw as an impossibility.

Nefertiri shook her head and the venom within her tone was as tangible as a slap. "All he cares about is himself!" Her fingers wiped at the water dripping down her cheeks and she managed to pull herself together as her lover gave her time. Straightening her hair, Nefertiri leaned back in her seat and nodded half-heartedly. "I'm sorry. You're right. Maybe he will."

Her blatant hatred, which she concealed from him, gave him anger. He called to mind all the mercies he had given her in his apparent 'selfishness', all those nights he would have enjoyed a warm body yet stayed from her for her sake, the things he allowed her to say and do, the punishments she so easily evaded and he felt angry that she would hate him so, no matter how hard he tried. And even more so that he would curse his life for the wrongs he committed that were unforgiven. He was Pharaoh, after all. What should he loathe about his life? He had been stripped of much, his parents, his lover, his eternity. The king in him called him back to that, for the bitterness he felt could not be drowned out.

Bay closed his eyes, too tired to offer any more words of wisdom to his friend. And Nefertiri kept touching him, soothing the king's pain and his anger without his wanting it, until finally sleep found her. Bay looked when she stopped touching and saw her eyes closed, her face set and her breath coming regular. He worried for her and for himself, but found peace in watching her sleep. The blessing greeted and soaked up her life like a white cloth over dark wine.

But their privacy would be intruded upon, as it had been before in the Field of the Med-Jai. Bay swallowed in anticipation as the tent flap opened, closed his eyes to feign sleep and waited to see what he could learn from his enemy. Time passed as Imhotep waited, wondering if when he heard the other's voice, if it would belong to his enemy or to himself. He could feel those eyes on him, hear the whisper of his breath and could well imagine the turmoil within.

His answer came with an intake of breath. "I wish to speak with you." Bay's voice awakening his queen—his voice with Imhotep's uncertain softness. Would those dark eyes tell him that Ardeth Bay had wandered into this self-same dream? Would Bay know who he was, or would he be as unaware as everyone else?

They left him and replaced their presense with two men carrying posts for him to be tied to. Outside the tent he could hear the voice of his wife asking in worried tones, "What are you going to do to him?" Eager, she was, to assume the worst. For reasons unknown to him, it hurt.

The dream offered no more insight than that, no vision of Ardeth Bay clothed in his raiment. It ended and Imhotep awakened swiftly, sitting up in his bed to be greeted by soft candles and sweat. The king looked down at his attire and frowned, realizing he had collapsed on the bed and fallen asleep without disrobing. Unnerved by the dream and seeking for a distraction from the impending thoughts of life, love and other mysteries, Imhotep got up from the silky bed and amidst pulling his heavy robe off, made his way nearer to where his queen was. He was both angry with her and pitying, and cursed the dream and its foolish lessons. This would not rule him.

He lounged back against a comfortable chair in their lavish, large bedroom and watched his wife as she gazed at herself in an ornate mirror set upon a vanity of nothing less than gold—his gift to her. Her satin dress clung to her in personal ways, allowing him a soft insight into the shape of her body that was endearing in a way that her nudity was not. He had never been allowed Ancksunamun as a wife. Imhotep thought it strange that the first woman he would wed would be Nefertiri. Even when she was his coveted student and his thoughts occasionally entertained what it would be like to teach the young princess more than religion he had not thought of marriage to her. It had never even once occurred to him that had he taken her, he might have impregnated her. A dark smile found his lips. What would Seti have done about such a thing? Rameses would have become his enemy, he knew, for his want of his sister had been great.

But now she was his to have at will and perhaps even the fact that she was another woman entirely made him feel drawn into this opportunity. Her submission to want had been pleasurable, more so than he had thought it would be and in ways he had not counted on. He found that he did, in fact, care for her state of being. And he wanted her to care for his.

The High Priest of Osiris was no fool. She did not love him, but even still she did allow him in. And he no longer wanted to mistreat her, finding that when he did behave properly towards his queen, it made him think of the priest he had been a long time ago. Not without fault, certainly, but a step closer to what only had begun to touch him this century. Dare he call it hopeful? Imhotep closed his eyes and tried to push it away. He did not deserve hope.

The king narrowed his brow and tightened his fists with that small realization. Curse Ardeth Bay and all that is his! he thought in near-despair, but his eyes fell upon Nefertiri's shapely form once more and brought calm. Yet it did not keep back the foreboding Imhotep felt welling within him. Ardeth Bay had concealed his thoughts from being sifted through for days to a degree Imhotep could not penetrate. He was trying something, but what that was he did not know. It made him feel helpless.

I should not have set him free or trusted he would heed wisdom. I should have… The priest closed his eyes again, pushing sudden images of the Hom-Dai towards that dark place in his mind he rarely let his consciousness visit. The curse, it was almost as enveloping as loving Ancksunamun had been. Visiting the early horror of having it performed on him was like walking through his worst nightmare and now that Ardeth's knowing filled him he could no longer hide from the pain in emptiness. No, he should not perform the Hom-Dai on another being. He was at least human enough to realize that.

"What's wrong?" called his wife softly, jarring him away from the blackness and the king inhaled, letting his unconsciously clenched hands relax. Two pools of darkness fixed on him through the mirror's gift of perfect reflection. Wary concern shadowed her pretty face as she spoke. "That look on your face, what does it mean?"

Imhotep crossed his arms and wandered what little of her front he could see in the mirror with foolish desire surfacing in him. "Nothing, Nefertiri. Do not trouble yourself to wonder."

His queen turned in her chair and regarded him with those soulful eyes of hers, eyes filled with uncertainty. Fear he caused her, even now he had proven himself to be trusted with her rights. By all the gods, why is this so difficult for me!? Why do I let her affect me so? he asked himself amidst her incessant quest for knowledge. "Have I done something wrong?" That, he thought, was terribly observant of her to realize.

"Will you not hold your tongue?" he snapped a little too harshly, then exhaled at his own lack of control. She looked down then. Demeaned—that is how he would term that expression. "I am sorry, Nefertiri. The day has been long and I do not feel well. Please do not question me so." Ardeth Bay was not his only concern and Celestine's news washed over him again, adding to his increased agitation. Trouble was brewing, trouble in Canada. He was losing his control overseas and it more than frustrated him. He could not be everywhere at once, nor did he have any desire to travel west.

She stood up, much to his displeasure, and crossed the floor on soft feet to take a chair beside him. His queen had a talent for disobedience at the exact moment he would have pleaded the gods for her to listen. "You've been looking at me like that since our wedding night. Am I doing something wrong? I do want this to work, Imhotep, but it won't if you hide your anger with me until you lose control. If you want to call me wife these sudden outbursts and slaps just cannot continue. I'll always be your slave and nothing more if you can't talk to me." He opened his mouth, but she continued with a suspicious edge to her tone. "Or is that it? You've tried to treat me as a wife, but find you would rather it be the other way?"

Imhotep knit his brow and sat up with a stern expression, brought to the edge of anger again. But he was not sure with whom he was angrier. Her or himself. "Why must you always assume the worst of me?" Nefertiri looked away from his frustration and he admitted to himself that he already understood. He was wronging her again. Because I have always given you the worst of me. Gods, was I always this troubled inside?

The king sat back in his chair again and stretched his fingers before his face. Not the hands of a man anymore. He would never have treated Ancksunamun this way. Or would he if she pushed him? The curse made him wonder suddenly, but he let it go. It was something he would never have to know of himself. "You did nothing wrong, Nefertiri. In truth I have not felt so still inside in more than three millennia. And do you know what gave me the most peace, my queen?"

"Getting me to obey for once?" the queen replied in a wry manner that suggested both jest and simple truth. How uncertain she was, how used to being no more than a plaything for him. Did he want to change that?

He shook his head and decided to let her be something else for a time. To see what this newfound understanding would win him. "No. The memories we shared after. When I held you and we spoke of ancient times. It was so peaceful and so…" But Imhotep balked at where his emotions were leading him. He was sharing too much, allowing her in and he couldn't do that, couldn't let her see what was inside. "These things are pointless to speak of."

Not one to leave things be as they should, she questioned him further, as was typical of her. It always had been, even in the past, that she would push, push, push until she got her way. Nefertiri dared to take his hand by impulse and he closed his eyes, pulling it back. Her sigh hit his ears softly. "It didn't seem so pointless when we were talking. Can you see me as no more than your property?"

The king gave her a hard stare at that, but the tide within slowed before he could snap at her for her pestering. Imhotep looked away from her testily and back into the mirror to escape the priest that called him to come back to his senses. And even still he would not leave it be, would not let her believe what she would, good or ill. "I was thinking of when I received the Hom-Dai," he offered flatly and listened with intense interest to the inhale she drew. He imagined that body in motion, taking the breath he no longer required.

He revealed that to her and still it was not enough to satiate her need to pry. She spoke again and his fingers curled around the edge of the chair arms. "What was it like?" It was a question asked in the lowest of tones, a whisper barely there because she knew to ask him could be dangerous. Could have been dangerous, but was no longer, perhaps.

Imhotep shook his head with firm intent. That was much too far into his heart to allow anyone. "No. It is not for you to know. Even were I able to put words to such a horror I would not tell you." This line of conversation was taking her closer to places he wanted no one to know, including himself. Uncomfortably, he stood up from his chair and began for the bed again without another word, praying she would come, or leave, or that sleep would take him without dreams of Ardeth Bay.

Sinking into the forever softness Imhotep fixed his wife with a gentle gaze and swept the link to his enemy over again, again unable to learn anything but that Bay was relaxed, cool and anticipating something. Are you at the border, Ardeth Bay? Have you killed Lord Nashean for his secrets of where we are? That cold place inside Imhotep wished it so. Of course he wanted his enemy to heed wisdom and stay away—now more than ever for the sake of mercy. But a split second choice back in Egypt had given Bay the robe he used to enter the Temple of Osiris, the very robe he may use to enter the palace and other places. And that choice had come from the secret hope inside that the Med-Jai would not give up, would not be able to allow Nefertiri to stay in the control of her king and would not survive as a result. No doubt Bay had thought him a fool to give him such a gift, but it was not without intent.

He had wanted Bay to return at first, to disobey and die. Before the poison had hit him hard, before the light had touched his soul. He had given his enemy the very means to disobey him and now that he was, Imhotep cursed his decision and wanted for a peaceful solution. If he killed Bay it would hurt Nefertiri and drive her from him. It was too late, however, and Bay would not see to reason as his cold self had so hoped. Something was going to happen.

But that was neither here nor now. Ardeth Bay would do well to leave Egypt, let alone penetrate this very castle and kidnap his queen. So he turned his attention back on her, watching as she straightened her dress gently. "Are you going back to sleep, Imhotep?" she asked him and he nodded. Her brow narrowed, but she said nothing in reply to his weariness. Only acceptance of what she could not understand touched her and he wondered idly what she would say were he to open himself further and tell her of his dreams. But fate decided against it. "I'm going for a swim in the bathhouse, then. Try to relax."

Imhotep nodded and propped himself up on his elbows, motioning her over with the wiggle of his fingers. His beautiful queen looked reluctant, but willing as she obeyed, sat down beside him and accepted the kiss he offered. The lingering thought of that would surely relax him and entice him in her absence filled his mind, so he traveled to her jasmine scented hair, inhaled the fragrance and whispered a request that he hoped she would carry out. "When you are done, will you return here to sleep?" She pulled away and he gave her unrepentant smile. Her answer furthered the troubles on his mind.

"I can do that." Nefertiri drew her chin up and pushed his shoulders down until the pillow taunted his eyes nearly to closing with a temporary promise of relief from bothered thoughts. "Think about what I said. About talking to me instead of…"

The moment would be ruined by such talk of terrible things as lack of control, so Imhotep stopped her with fingers to her lips, tempted to ask her to remain now instead of returning later. "There is no need to think, Nefertiri. I will try harder for you."

~~~~~~~

Her candles burned low, leaving the High Priestess of Osiris bathed in the splendor of the dim lighting in her office. Celestine gazed at the flames upon the mantle, doubled with the backdrop of a mirror behind. So beautiful, so fair and bright. He looked particularly handsome in that lighting. The priestess pursed her lips and seethed inside at the marriage, at the king's new and strange behavior and those cursed little looks he gave his play toy.

She stared at two telegrams on her large, dark desk with a pensive expression. The first was a note from her uncle, asking if she had gained any leeway in seducing their king. When the general learned of her loss to Nefertiri he was going to be very upset. It was truly ironic, the mission, the man and the fate that had woven him into her life. Almost as if he were as chosen as he believed.

That sweet quirk of fate had birthed her in Alexandria, the exact right place and time for her to live. For her family and her birthplace would offer her two people, two rare gems that would forever change her life. Meela Pasha was the daughter of a rich Egyptian merchant and would attend the same class as little Miss Celestine, becoming a close childhood friend who would travel with her to Germany to visit her uncle Rudolf Hess, born of the same country. And this man worked closely with the second person to capture her heart—none other than Adolph Hitler, who would become one of her homeland's most brilliant politicians. Hitler had stunned her with his charisma and blue eyes, but what had drawn her into his bed was his incredible vision. At first during the visit it had not been apparent that Meela would help him, but after a series of dreams the door seemed to open.

Imhotep, the powerful, who would do anything for Ancksunamun—this ancient princess Meela was certain related to her somehow. At times she thought she was this princess, even, and her stories were so powerful and vivid that Celestine's newly acquired lover became intrigued by the stories related to him during their secret trysts. And with a little investigation he discovered there was more to these tales than simple imagination. This priest had made an appearance in the early '20's, almost forgotten but not quite. If it were true, if this being did exist and could be brought to consciousness, it could change history forever. Control within control and an all-powerful machine to purification and order Hitler had seen at his fingertips. It fueled his belief that he was chosen for greatness, for how could he not if fate so tossed him this chance? So he gave in to Meela's whims, murdered a desert warrior she felt threatened by and when he became Chancellor in 1933, he funded a little dig in Egypt that would win him the opportunity of a lifetime.

But a link in the chain had not only been broken, but replaced with someone that would not fall correctly into their plans. Celestine could not manipulate Nefertiri and through her manipulate the king. Her lover's plans of taking control of Imhotep were fading away, dying with the people the king conquered. The terror was slowing, the chaos had spun enough opportunity for the Egyptian to seize the world but now he meant to rule it himself, or if he were aided, it would be by that toy. Adolph was going to be livid with this new development. Celestine smiled bitterly and glared up at the candles again.

But there was a chance at redemption at least. The second telegram had come only a few days ago with the promise that perhaps Celestine's chance had come after all. A letter from Lord Nashean addressed to her and written in such a way that only she would know what message it told. A dark smile spread across her red lips. Ardeth Bay was even now on his way here to rescue his lover from the terrible king. It was almost too good to be true. Yet too true to reward her patience with disappointment. A knock echoed through her office and the priestess sat up, calling, "Enter." One lone guard came in with a smile to mirror her own ill wishes. "Rafe," she greeted, allowing the word to roll off her tongue sensually. "What may I do for you?"

The guard leered down at the leg she exposed through the flimsy opening of her robe, but maintained grace enough to give her a report without missing a beat. "We got ourselves a visitor. Ardeth Bay has just entered the castle as you requested. Shall we arrest him?"

Celestine considered this. If she moved too quickly the surprise would be spoiled. If she waited too long Ardeth Bay could very well succeed in rescuing Princess Nefertiri. "I want you to find and follow him," she said after a moment of intense thought. "Wait until he finds the queen and goes to her. I want to test her, you see. Wait until she does something to betray our king, then arrest them both."

"And if she doesn't betray the king?"

Celestine frowned on that thought, but conceded it was possible. "Only when you have determined she will not may you arrest Ardeth Bay. And Rafe?"

"Yes, my Lady?"

"Be brutal with them." Rafe grinned in reply.

~~~~~~~

Disclaimer: No infringement intended. Nashean, Sajul/Necromancer, Arya, Layla, Sania, Reyhanen and Celestine (and a few dead/less significant originals) belong to me.

A/N: According to the TMR book, Meela's last name is Pasha…I can't believe I missed it last time I read it. Anyway, good thing to know, eh? :-D

To Reviewers:

Mommints – Yes, stories like Hereafter and yours are quite inspiring to me as well, and I'm glad you've gotten inspired! :-) Love to see more Heros! Thanks for the review, my friend! Write write write! ;-) :-D

Wildcardgal – Thanks for the compliments! I'm glad you're reading and enjoying what you see. :-) Always nice to get a head's up and I appreciate it. :-D

Zarah – Ardeth/Evy scene coming up it looks like, huh? ;-) Next chapter! :-D Thanks a bunch!

Deana – LOL! If you feel bad for Immy I must have done something reasonably okay, eh? ;-) Thanks! I'm glad you're liking this and following it. Means a lot!

Dead-Girls-Watch – Thanks! How is yours coming along??? :-)

Marcher – Thanks for compliments here and email…I appreciate the time you took to let me know your thoughts. :-) It's much appreciated that friends and strangers can give of their time to read and let me know how I'm doing on the main characters and originals like Sania. :-) Thankie much!

Marxbros – Actually you came in at 203. :-O :-D Thanks a bunch! I know, got a little violent with Anck, but I wanted to show that bad things can happen to them, things that they don't necessarily deserve and to make the readers feel bad for our dear Immy. ;-) :-) Plus to show that there are bigger fish than Imhotep. I'm happy to hear people enjoy my meshing…:-O Always try not to make the parts not too confusing. :-) And there will definitely be more for Jonny and Ricky before the end in 5 chapters. :-D Thanks muchly, my friend! Can't wait to see more Hereafter, but it's sad that it's almost done! *sniff*

Lula – Hehehe, glad you worked around the ff.net trouble you had and could read. :-) It means a bunch to have readers like you, ya know! As for Ardeth, yes, poor Ardeth…and he's heading for more trouble it looks like, huh? Oye! Like I told Dee, I can't not hurt him at some point. ;-) Muahahaha. Thanks!