Part Three
Back at the oasis, the object of the Scorpion King's scrutiny was relaxing in the arms of his beloved. After they saw his father and the thirteen year old Ardeth, reminding the adult Ardeth of forgotten conversations, neither spoke for a long time. Ardeth had no desire to speak, and even if he did, he didn't know where to begin. For so long, he questioned his abilities as a chieftain, questioned if he was a good enough son.
Those doubts were strongest right after the. . .right after Imhotep rose the first time. Did he fail his father? Did he fail his people? Despite everything, he began to think that he did not. Three times, Imhotep rose and threatened all which Ardeth held dear. Twice they returned Imhotep to his grave. The third time. . .the third time changed everything. Imhotep was more or less human now. The ritual which Celia performed in Hamunaptra shattered the hom-dai, though it did not remove his immortality.
The stories which his mother told Celia revived memories long- forgotten. Not just of his father teaching him to ride, but of that final conversation. The conversation he saw only moments earlier. Celia shattered the hom-dai. Celia provided the impetus for his mother to remind him of his father. Just as everything returned to Lady Ardath, the concubine's modern day namesake was finding something similar happening with his fiancee. And he wondered if Rameses found it as frightening as he did.
But the questions remained. Did he fail his father? No answers came, and at last, Ardeth reluctantly pulled away. There was work to be done. He sighed, echoed by Celia, and smiled at her. They left the pool and put their boots on. Once they were properly attired, the couple mounted their horses. Neither spoke; rather, they simply rode together. They did not touch, as Ardeth was uncomfortable with public displays of affection. And once they left the oasis, they were far more likely to be seen.
Celia understood this, too. She smiled when he tried to explain it to her, tried to explain that it didn't mean that his actions while they were around his people didn't love her. Instead, she told him that she figured that out, and she was grateful that he was letting her deal with most of these problems on her own. As she liked to remind him, she was thirty years old, not a callow girl mooning over a warrior she couldn't have.
Sweet Celia. The women of his family were concerned about her, because she was too sweet, too understanding, and too accomodating. They understood why, but it still worried them. Ardeth remembered a conversation he had with his sister the previous day. Acacia stopped him, asking about wedding plans. They talked about the wedding for a few moments, before Acacia finally told him what troubled her.
Celia was being too nice. Ardeth greeted this remark with a frankly disbelieving stare. Acacia sighed, explaining that his intended was practically bending over backward. While the Med-jai appreciated her attempts, they were finding it very difficult to believe this was the same woman who defeated Khaldun. For that matter, they had yet to see the fiery woman who put Anatol in his place.
Ardeth should have expected *that* story to make the rounds. However, he said only that until someone pushed Celia too far, no one would see the real woman. Even so, he knew Acacia was right. Celia was trying too hard, being too nice and too understanding. But, he didn't know what to do. Ardeth was never in a relationship, and he didn't know if he should speak to his betrothed or let her find her own way.
He and Celia dismounted inside the corral, and Ardeth said softly, "The patrol is due back. I must meet with them." To his gratification, there was disappointment in her eyes, and he added, kissing her forehead, "I will find you when I can. This I swear." He was rewarded with a bright smile, then turned toward his tent. He didn't get far, as a shrill insult in Arabic caught his attention. Ardeth turned back and almost groaned.
It wasn't a maiden. Rather, it was the mother of the children who tormented Miranda, Sanure. She demanded that Acacia force her children to end their friendship with Miranda after the pair refused to play with her two younger children. Ardeth started over, but was stopped by Garai. The old man whispered, "La. Allow Celia to handle this, Ardeth. She knows not what that little viper calls her, but she does know the hatred."
Ardeth stared at the older warrior. His strongest desire was to intervene, but before he could, something happened. He didn't know what, or how the balance of power shifted in Celia's favor. He only knew that as he looked back, Sanure was on her knees in front of Celia, his fiancee's dagger at her throat. Her fingers were twisted in the other's hair, her eyes ablaze. Ardeth blinked, and Garai murmured, "I knew this would happen eventually. Much of Lady Ardath remains."
Ardeth could not argue. His own memories of being Rameses hummed just below the surface, whispering to him about the young concubine's temper. Especially when one was foolish enough to harm those she loved most in the world. Ardeth saw some of that temper as he fought for his life, before being called to face Khaldun. He wasn't unconscious the entire time, though he was sure Evy believed he was.
Ardeth returned his attention back to the present, and the looming danger. But no one approached his intended. Celia growled, her dagger still at Sanure's throat, "I have had just about enough of you, lady. I don't know what the hell you just said to me, but I can bet it wasn't polite or pretty. So I won't be polite or pretty either. You don't like me? Hey, that's fine. . .I don't like you. But I'm not leaving. I'm marrying Ardeth. I love him, he loves me, and I will fight every demon in the Underworld for him."
The Med-jai woman struggled, but the American held firm, her hazel eyes flashing with fury. Celia wound her fingers more tightly into Sanure's hair, hissing, "Hold still, or I'll slit your throat now." Adeth had no doubt that Celia would do so. He wasn't the only one. Sanure stilled, her eyes darting about. Ardeth wondered if he should intervene. Not yet. Tension was building for several weeks, especially after Miranda was involved. It was time this was settled, and he knew he had to let Celia do this.
And speaking of Miranda. . . Ardeth winced as his mother emerged from her tent, carrying Miranda on her hip. The little girl looked at her mother and asked *his* mother something. Garai murmured at his side, "Lady Altair is informing Miranda that the mean lady is she whose children made fun of Miranda. The mean lady also said very, very bad things about Miranda's mother, and that is why Celia holds the knife to her throat."
Ardeth looked at the older man in surprise, and Garai shrugged. He continued with a smile, "Back before you were born, I lost my hearing temporarily, and learned to read lips. I still use it." Ardeth nodded and started to turn his attention back to his intended. . .only to have a very unpleasant thought cross his mind. He looked back at Garai, whose smile broadened further and he added, obviously knowing what troubled Ardeth, "Relax, my chieftain. I would not use it against you or your queen."
Ardeth nodded, eyeing Garai warily, before looked back at Celia. Ardeth's mother was at her side, and made no attempt to stop his betrothed. Instead, she was translating what Celia said up to this point, making sure she didn't sugarcoat any of it. In fact, she was quite blunt. The matriarch gave Celia a little nod, then Celia continued in English, "That goes for everyone. I don't care if you don't like me. There's a number of you whom I don't like. But get used to me, because I'm here to stay."
"Well said, my queen," Garai murmured in ancient Egyptian, "draw your line in the sand, and let all take heed. No one can say that they were not warned about what would happen if they crossed you." Ardeth fought his desire to bite his lip, fearing that it would be noticed, and seen as a sign of weakness. He could afford no weakness. Nor could Celia. He willed himself to remain totally still, and keep his face a stoic mask.
His wife-to-be paused, allowing Ardeth's mother to translate what she said. Once she received a nod, Celia continued, "And quite frankly, you all disappoint me. I thought that Ardeth was loved and respected by his people. That's not what I hear among you. To say as you have, that I have cast a spell over him, is nothing short of disrespectful toward your chieftain. Do you honestly think that someone like me could cast a spell? Much less one which would enthrall someone as strong and fierce as Ardeth?"
"Well, that's an ouchie," Rick O'Connell murmured, slipping to Ardeth's other side. The chieftain nodded. He did not comment, however, and it wasn't really necessary. His old friend continued, "Then again, this has been building for weeks now. It was just a matter of time before she finally lost her patience." Again, Ardeth nodded, listening intently as his mother translated, word for word, what Celia said. From the corner of his eye, the chieftain saw Sanure's husband Rami steaming toward the women.
But before he could reach Celia, Garai released Ardeth and slipped away, blocking the warrior's path. All fell silent at Celia's next words. She all but growled, "And know this. Anyone else who harms my child will face the consequences, which will not include a collapsing tent or anything else Anck-su-namun can dream up. No, you will face me, the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. And whether you know it or not, she was the architect of most of their pranks."
To emphasize her words, Celia jerked Sanure's head. Point taken. Ardeth realized, however, that the crisis was not yet over. He was right. Next, Celia glared at Rami, adding contemptuously, "And as for you. Such a big man you are, encouraging your children to torment someone smaller and weaker than themselves. Such a great warrior, to try to intimidate a child yourself. You are nothing beside the man whom I will marry, for Ardeth Bey would never seek to harm a child as you have!"
"Definite ouchie there. Hate to be the one to tell you this, Ardeth old buddy, but I think Celia's getting close to the danger zone. She may have overstepped her boundaries just then," O'Connell murmured. Ardeth wasn't so sure of that. This day's work would not win her any friends. . .but he was too much of a warrior not to recognize what it did do. Celia just drew a line in the sand, and warned those assembled not to push her. And it was time he gave aid and comfort to the woman whom he chose as his wife.
With that in mind, he stepped away from O'Connell and Garai, and headed for Celia. There was a moment of fear in her eyes, that she went too far, but only a moment. The next moment, there was steely determination, and Ardeth knew that she would stand up to him as well. He whispered to her, "Release her, love, you have made your point." He looked at the dagger, still held against Sanure's throat, and added, "No pun intended."
Celia managed a weak smile and released Sanure. Ardeth looked up, making eye contact with all assembled. Some looked away in shame, others were nodding, while still others were blank-faced. It was this last category whom concerned the chieftain the most. He stared at them steadily, then said clearly, "Hear me well! Do not think that I have not heard your whisperings against the woman I love, because I have taken no action. I have heard. I have simply allowed Celia to handle this as she sees fit."
His mother passed Miranda to him, and Ardeth looked at the warrior now helping his wife to her feet. Rami could barely meet his eyes, though Ardeth wasn't certain if it was from shame or fury. The chieftain thought for a moment, making his next decision. Should he keep going? No. No, it wasn't necessary. He made his point. Instead, he drew Celia more tightly against his body and led her toward the tent they would share after they were married. Ardeth wasn't sure if he should be surprised or amused when O'Connell shifted to stand behind him, his eyes narrowed in a warning.
He chose to be grateful. Ardeth felt Celia trembling, and tightened his arms around her. They were not yet out of the danger zone. Though O'Connell would watch for attacks from behind, Ardeth did not trust Rami. He was young and impetuous. Never mind that he was the same age as Ardeth, that was hardly the point. The man was proud, and he would not be pleased that a foreigner bested his wife. Ardeth himself was proud, but he knew the line between pride and stupidity fairly well.
Rami was another story. If not for fourteen year old Yanit, his niece, Ardeth would have written off the entire family. She was the most stable adult in the family, Ardeth knew, though she was almost young enough to be their daughter. She came to live with the couple after the death of her father, Rami's brother. A glance toward the young girl told Ardeth that Yanit looked utterly ashamed. She returned his gaze, mouthing, 'forgive me.' He would talk to her later. This was not her fault.
And judging from her expression, he would have a hard time convincing her of that. He could see it, in the way she watched her aunt and uncle. She wasn't the only one watching. Even as O'Connell watched from behind, movement out of the corner of his eye told Ardeth that Garai and Hanif were watching the sides. Garai was physically blocking Rami's path, just in case he took it into his head to cause more trouble. Just to be on the safe side, Ardeth would keep an eye on him over the next few weeks as well. It was a terrible thing, discovering that you no longer trusted your own people.
He knew such things would happen, when he fell in love with Celia. Rather, he realized as much when he acknowledged that he was in love with her. It was one reason he struggled with asking her to marry him. There was as time, not so long ago, when Ardeth would have chosen to release Celia. He still wasn't sure if the route he chose was more selfish or not. But Evy's words to him, about allowing Celia to choose for herself, reverberated through his soul. She made her choice.
He looked down at her, wondering if she now regretted that choice. Celia sensed his eyes on her, and looked up at him. She gave him a tiny smile, and what he saw in her expression was not of resentment or regret, but relief. Ardeth remembered what she said earlier, about fearing she would fail in him in some way. Celia was afraid she failed him by pushing back this time, and Ardeth realized the opposite was true. He failed her.
He swore to himself that this would be the last time he failed her. Ardeth held Celia's eyes with his own, trying desperately to communicate to this woman just how much he loved her. There would be times when he could not be there for her. . .times when duty would call him away. But Celia demonstrated to the Med-jai that she would fight for what she considered hers, and now Ardeth could demonstrate something else. That he would stand with his wife.
After a moment, Celia's smile widened, and it extended to her eyes. She mouthed, 'I love you.' It was Ardeth's turn to smile, for she *had* understood what was in his heart after all. It would not be easy, marrying this woman. But it would be worth it. That much, Ardeth knew. It would be worth it. . .this woman, and the children they would have together, made it worth it. In his mind's eye, Ardeth saw the children they would have together. Children with curly dark hair and hazel eyes. Or maybe brown eyes. Either was fine. As long as they had Celia's smile.
Yes, all the trouble in the world was worth this woman. Yes, his status as the Med-jai chieftain would complicate things. But this woman would not be easily frightened away. Ardeth only wished that everything in his life would be settled that well. The Elders were already making noise about the children he had with Celia, reminding him that she wasn't as young as Anatol's female contemporaries, and it was best for them to get started right away. Annoying old men!
Although, he had to admit. . .he was looking forward to creating those babies!
. . .
She went too far. And yet, as Celia returned her dagger to its sheath, she couldn't regret her actions. She was nice the last few weeks, and now, her patience was gone. Celia was a reasonable woman, but enough was enough. No. No, she didn't regret her actions. However, she was startled when Ardeth put his arm around her shoulders, and looking into her fiancé's eyes, she realized she didn't go too far, after all. It wasn't just meant to urge her away from the confrontation, but also a protective embrace.
Behind her, Altair started speaking in Arabic, and Miranda asked softly, "Ardeth? Mommy? What's Gramma Altair saying?" Celia looked up at her fiancé, to see a mischievous smile lighting his handsome face. Ohhh, this promised to be good! Miranda continued, "And Mommy, where did you learn to do that? Gramma Altair said that you've been deceiving her, that you fight better than you said you do!"
"Your mother does not like to speak of her fighting skills, Miranda, that is not her way. And your grandmother has informed everyone that she regards your mother as her daughter. That is very important, little one, because now, everyone knows that Mother will protect your mother, as she protects Auntie Acacia and Auntie Aleta," Ardeth replied. There was a soft protest from Sanure, then Altair's voice rang out again.
Ardeth winced, ever so slightly, and added, "Your grandmother just informed Sanure that she should be grateful your mother is such a patient woman. If Sanure did that to your grandmother or aunts, none of them would have demonstrated such restraint." Celia looked at Ardeth in surprise, and he added with a shrug, "She speaks the truth, my love. My mother and sisters have all expressed concern at your patience."
"I thought. . ." Celia began, then shook her head. No, it didn't matter. Well, it did, but it could wait until Miranda was in bed. She asked instead, "Your mother really said that?" Ardeth nodded, his eyes lighting up with laughter. He looked *very* proud of his mother. Celia was starting to understand why Altair was viewed with some caution. Though much more mellow, she could still be volatile at times. The American woman was grateful Altair wasn't angry with her. She wanted to keep it that way.
"She did. Celia, my mother's caution with you is not personal. It is simply a mother being protective of her young. Therefore, she will not accept those slurs which you mentioned earlier. To say such things is to insult her son, and she finds that unacceptable. She is still becoming comfortable with you, love. Just give her more time," Ardeth answered. That seemed to be the cure-all. More time.
She knew she would not be accepted right away. Some of the warriors seemed to accept her well enough, but it was hard to say. The Med-jai were a very stoic people. Until a few minutes earlier, when that woman attacked her, she never thought the Med-jai would actually physically attack her. No, it wasn't all Med-jai, but just the attack of one shocked her. She supposed that was why her own reaction frightened her as well.
Celia closed her eyes, remembering the moment when that woman. . .what was her name? Sanure? Yes, Sanure was her name. She flew at Celia, her fist raised to strike. The young American woman had no idea what the woman said to her, or about her, but she knew she was in imminent danger, and reacted accordingly. As the woman's fist descended, Celia's own hand shot up, her fingers encircling the other's wrist.
In a fluid motion, often practiced by Ardath and Anck, Celia stopped the other woman's forward motion, using her own momentum to spin her around. This forced her attacker to her knees, and Celia pressed her advantage by pulling her arm behind her back, while removing her dagger from its sheath. Celia couldn't remember at which point she released Sanure's arm, to pull her hair back, but she did that.
One hand gripped her hair, keeping her in place, while the other held the knife pressed to her throat. Celia shuddered. It was the first time, since recovering her memories of being Lady Ardath, that she used those skills against anyone other than Khaldun. And it scared her. Not just possessing those skills, but. . .she would have killed that woman. There were times when it felt like she was spinning out of control, when she wasn't sure whom she was any longer.
A sudden warmth alerted her that they were no longer alone in Ardeth's tent. She looked up to find Anck staring at her with love, pride, sorrow, and anger. That was something else which required some adjustment. . .Anck watching over her. She did so with a fervor which sometimes frightened the young American. Celia feared that someone would get hurt. Thus far, the ghost only scared some people, but Celia could sense her growing frustration. It was just a matter of time.
"Auntie Anck!" Miranda cried out happily, shattering Celia's concentration. The little girl gave a little bounce, drawing a wince from Ardeth, and continued, "Auntie Anck, did you see Mommy stand up to that mean lady!" Anck's expression changed to delight, as it always did Miranda, and Celia smiled in spite of herself. Miranda gave another bounce, adding, "Were you looking out for us, Auntie Anck?"
"Did I not tell you so, little Miranda? I will always look out for you and your mama. There will be times, sweet niece, when Ardeth cannot take care of you. And when those times come, I will be there," Anck replied. She paused, then added wryly, "But in the meantime, little one, you must stop bouncing like that. It causes Ardeth discomfort when you do that. His ribs are still healing, because he will not take it easy."
Ardeth mumbled something she couldn't make out. It was in Arabic, because Celia could not understand him. Her memories of ancient Egyptian remained, and Anck looked at her questioningly. Celia shrugged, replying in that language, "I have no idea, my friend. I understand English, French, and ancient Egyptian, not Arabic. His sisters try to teach me, but I am a little slow." Anck glared at her and Celia just laughed.
It made her feel better, she discovered, and made Ardeth smile as well. She told him, "Anck's only trying to protect you, love. Miranda, Auntie Anck is right. . .you must not bounce like that. It will hurt Ardeth." Miranda's expression was somewhere between a pout and a worried frown. She loved bouncing, but she didn't want to hurt Ardeth. Celia heard Anck laugh softly at her side, also seeing Miranda's quandary.
Celia heard, of course, about the deeds committed by her protector. She knew about the murder of Seti, about Evy's brief time in the Afterlife. She knew about Ahm Shere. But it was hard for her to reconcile all of this with the woman who loved and watched over her. Whatever Anck did. . .it was in the past. And Celia was totally convinced that no matter what happened, the ghost would be there for her and her family.
She had only to look at Anck's attitude toward Ardeth. Once, Anck candidly admitted that she hated Ardeth. Not because of what he did, but because of what he was. He was Med-jai, and Anck spent three thousand years hating the Med-jai, even before she learned about the casting of the hom-dai. She hated them because they protected Seti, because in their own way, they were her jailers.
And yet. . .Anck grew to love Ardeth. Celia could hear it in her voice when she gently chastised Miranda for bouncing in his arms. She could see it when Anck smiled at him, though she did wonder whom Anck saw. Was it Ardeth Bey, the current chieftain of the Med-jai people? Or was it Ardeth Bey, the beloved nephew of Anck's heart? If that first Ardeth did, indeed, resemble his father so closely, it was a fair question.
There were no doubts when Anck looked at Miranda. Even if Celia had her doubts about Anck's love for Ardeth, or for herself, even if she wondered if Anck saw the present day incarnations. . .there was no such question where Miranda was concerned. Miranda was herself; to the best of Celia's knowledge, her little girl was no one's reincarnation. There was a chance, of course, that when Anck looked at Miranda, she saw what little Miriam might have been.
But Miriam never had the chance to live. Anck never had the chance to know, or love, her niece. Celia smiled to herself. There was a curious justice, when she thought about it. In the past, Anck was denied the chance to love her niece and nephew, for varying reasons. And as a ghost, she had that chance. Anck once explained to her that she was no longer condemned to the Underworld. . .but she was not ready to be reborn.
Celia looked back at her daughter and Anck. She thought sometimes that it was a pity, that Anck never had children of her own. Until Ardath came into her life, until she witnessed her best friend's transition to a mother, Anck never had much interest in children. But people changed. Celia was proof of that, as was Anck. But then, Anck was also proof that people could change, even after they died.
Celia saw that Miranda finally settled on a worried frown, and wrapped her arms around Ardeth's neck. She kissed his cheek, and Celia felt her smile broaden. At the same time, her heart lightened, and she felt as if she could deal with anything which came down the path for them. There was still the matter of the Med-jai who resented her. . .but for now, she had Ardeth and she had Miranda. Altair made it clear that she stood with her. And she had Anck, her celestial protector. What more could she ask?
. . .
So. The little tigress finally made her appearance. Altair was quite pleased with her daughter-in-law. Over the last few weeks, she watched as Celia's patience frayed. In her opinion, Ardeth shouldn't have talked Celia out of putting Sanure in her place. She knew why he did it. He was trying to protect his wife and child, and his people at the same time.
Even so, she wished her son hadn't stopped his intended. More than that, she wished she knew what to do to help the shy yet fierce young woman. When she and Suleiman were married, there weren't the pressures that Ardeth faced. The Egypt of the late 1800's was a tense place, as the world shifted and changed around them. The Med-jai were finding their job more difficult, with the technological advances.
On top of that, as Suleiman and Altair prepared to wed, there were security issues for the Med-jai throughout Egypt, not just at Hamunaptra. In 1881, Auguste Mariette, the head of the Antiquities Service, died. His replacement was Sir Gaston Maspero, and the Med-jai had to connect with the newcomer, coming to a new arrangement. As ever, there were cultural difficulties. But this wasn't the worst problem. . .Maspero might have had difficulties with the Med-jai, as he came from a totally different culture, but he recognized these strange men were his allies against treasure seekers.
Most of the problems the Med-jai had was with the director's need for more men. He had few employees, and could only pay them so much. The Antiquities Service was a government agency, and the budget only allocated so much. It was in the best interests of the Med-jai, of course, to help Maspero where they could. And they did. However, the first priority of the Med-jai was keeping Imhotep and other evils under the sands of Egypt. Which was NOT something Maspero understood.
So there were many things to concern the Med-jai, when Suleiman and Altair were married. Altair almost wished for something similar, so her son and his fiancee could complete their courtship without further difficulties. However, that was not to be. The Med-jai needed a rest, after two risings by Imhotep, and Ahm Shere. Her son needed a rest, and his week-long vacation in Cairo six months earlier didn't count. However, there was nothing she could do about that, and instead, Altair chose to help Celia in any way she could. Today marked another milestone, the day her daughter-in-law finally stood up to those who attacked her and her child.
Altair was proud of Celia. Not just pleased with her, but she was proud of her, too. Especially when Sanure physically attacked her, and Celia dealt with her accordingly. She knew part of it was the remaining memories of Lady Ardath, but there was also the very real fury felt by a young mother whose child was targeted because she was different. And for that reason alone. Not because she treated those children badly, but because she was different.
Altair accumulated a great deal of wisdom through the years, and she knew that while her daughter-in-law won no friends today, she did win some respect. She demonstrated that she was willing to stand up for herself and for her child. More than that, she called people on their allegations that she bewitched Ardeth. For that alone, Altair was fiercely proud of her. They were in such a hurry to blame Celia for the changes in Ardeth, or what they thought were changes in their chieftain, that they had no trouble turning him into a weak, incompetent fool.
However, those who knew Ardeth, who watched him grow up, knew the truth. Celia did not change him. She would make no attempt to change him, either. She had no desire to change him. In fact, Altair's instinct was that she would only intervene where O'Connell was concerned. Once before, she stood up to him. Outside Hamunaptra, when Khaldun took over his body. Anatol told her about it.
She would not intervene in matters dealing with Hamunaptra. Celia was no child who thought that the world revolved around her. For that, Altair was grateful. Her son chose a woman close to his own age. Her concerns about Celia had nothing to do with her age, her fertility, her intelligence or her love for Ardeth. Rather, they had to do with Altair's desire to protect her children. Once, she was not vigilant with the hearts of her children, and her daughter paid the price.
That would not happen a second time. She knew that Suleiman accepted Celia without question. But it would take time for Altair to do the same. She gave the girl a chance, and was rewarded with Celia's almost painful eagerness to please. It truly would have been painful, if Celia was ten years younger. And yet, Altair couldn't fault the girl for trying so hard. She knew what she was up against, and she wanted people to know that she was worthy of their chieftain.
But of course, she made the greatest strides in proving this when she stopped trying and simply reacted. What was Sanure thinking? Foolish girl! If Celia didn't do something to stop her, then Altair would have. Fortunately, that wasn't necessary. Fortune, though, had nothing to do with it, and Altair knew that. Well, one hurdle was overcome. She just wished that her daughters witnessed the confrontation, as it would have gone far to alleviate Acacia's worries about her brother's bride. This was a step in the right direction. There would be more hurdles. There would always be more hurdles.
And there was time for Celia to pass those hurdles. She had a lifetime to prove herself worthy of her husband. A good thing it was. It would take time, too, before Celia could accept that there was more to being a good wife than simply not undermining Ardeth. She worked *very* hard at that, though Altair knew Celia was struggling to keep her objections to anything she saw between herself and her husband-to-be. In addition, the newcomer was careful with the warriors, struggling to keep a balance between indifference and fawning. It was a wonder, given the work she put in, just trying to keep balanced, that Celia wasn't exhausted. Altair stopped, thought, then smiled.
Yes. That would work as an explanation for what just happened, only a few minutes earlier. Today was the first time in weeks that the Med-jai saw the real Celia Ferguson. The woman who defeated Khaldun twice, though admittedly one such time was with the aid of Lady Ardath, finally made her presence known. Altair realized, too, during the last few weeks that Celia's shyness was ingrained in her. From what she learned from Evy O'Connell, Altair's daughter-in-law was always shy in the beginning.
But when she was tired, her defenses went down. It made sense. Celia grew exhausted by her attempts to prove herself to the Med-jai. Anyone would, after all. And when she was tired, she no longer had the energy to be something she wasn't. There were times, too, when more energy went into treating people with courtesy, than showing them the same sort of contempt which they were currently displaying. Altair saw this reality many time over the years. She. . .
"Where is she? Where's my sister?"
The strident words surprised Altair, and she looked around. To her surprise, young Jason Ferguson was steaming toward her, his face a mask of fear. The boy stopped just short of colliding with her, and even after he stopped, Altair thought for a moment he might still topple over. But he maintained his footing, and repeated, "I just heard that something happened, a confrontation. Where's Celia, is she okay?"
He looked so genuinely concerned, so truly frightened for his sister, that Altair had a hard time connecting this frightened young man with the man who callously left his sister and small niece behind when they first arrived in Egypt. She wondered how much of it was because of what that monster Khaldun did to him, and how much of it was. . . other things. Altair hadn't lived as long as she had without learning that there was rarely just one reason for an event.
However, she said nothing of this to the frightened young man. Right now, she really didn't think he was interested in hearing her thoughts about anything but his sister. Jason was struggling to catch his breath, his hazel eyes wide with fear. After a moment, Altair said quietly, "Your sister is well, young Ferguson. A Med-jai woman did, indeed, attack her. . .or rather, attempt to attack her. . .but your sister disarmed her and warned her, and others, what would happen the next time she or Miranda were attacked."
Jason Ferguson blinked, then asked warily, "She's really okay? The woman didn't hurt her at all?" Altair just smiled at him gently, inclining her head in acknowledgment, and he relaxed. Such protectiveness of his sister! Altair never expected this! Jason's smile grew wider as he sighed, "Oh, thank God. I knew things were becoming ugly, but I never expected someone to actually try to hurt her. I haven't been a real good brother, but I do love my sister, you know."
This was said almost defensively, and Altair bit back a smile. She replied serenely, "There are times, young Jason, when you do things which will lead to harm for your sister. Most of the time, you do not intend to cause harm, but such things happen any way. This is the way of things. My oldest son was such a person. He did not always think, but he loved his younger brothers and sisters no less for his foolishness." She paused, then asked with an impish smile, "Would you like to hear about what happened, between your sister and that woman?"
"Does it involve my sister having an Ardath moment, and teaching that woman to never underestimate her again, or mess with Miranda?" the boy asked hopefully, and Altair nodded. Her smile grew all the more impish when Jason replied, his hazel eyes sparkling, "Then tell me all about it! I watched her kick Khaldun's ass. . .'scuse my language, ma'am. . .and I can still hardly believe that it was my sister who did it!"
Altair bit back her laughter. She actually understood how the young man felt. Except in her case, it wasn't her sister who surprised her. Rather, it was her youngest daughter. Quiet, easygoing, gentle Aleta who stoutly defended her future sister-in-law to anyone who dared insult Celia in her presence. It startled a number of people, some of whom never saw Aleta angry about anything. This, in part, contributed to certain jealous maidens whispering that Celia was actually a sorceress who cast a spell upon Ardeth. She must be a sorceress. Aleta was angry about something, and that was not at all like her. If only they knew Altair's youngest daughter as well as she did. But that could wait for another day. Right now. . .there were stories to be told.
"Then I will make you this deal, Jason Ferguson. I will tell you of your sister's confrontation with Sanure a few moments ago, and then you will tell me about the confrontation with Khaldun inside Hamunaptra. Do we have a deal?" Altair asked, holding out her hand to the boy. Jason's eyes lit up and he nodded, pumping her hand vigorously. Altair linked her arm within his, then began to tell the boy about the confrontation between his sister and the Med-jai woman, only moments earlier.
. . .
Well now, this was most assuredly an unexpected turn of events! Then again, ever since returning to the Med-jai camp with Celia three weeks earlier, there was one unexpected event after another. Everything Anck-su- namun ever believed about the Med-jai was thrown into a disarray during the last few weeks, and she had a sneaking suspicion that her ancient enemies were not yet finished surprising her.
First, there was Anatol Bey's cautious acceptance of her appearance in Hamanaptra, and her siding with them. It angered her, at first, his wariness. But she quickly remembered that the boy had no reason to trust her. Then, there was Anatol's discovery that she removed the illusion of Jason Ferguson, so her sister could fight Khaldun.
During Anck's lifetime, the Med-jai learned spells and incantations to carry out their task of protecting the pharaoh and his family. Those spells and incantations were passed down through the generations. It seemed likely that as the descendents of the first Med-jai chieftain, the Bey family would have that knowledge as well. But never did it even occur to Anck that the descendents of Rameses and Ardath would have magickal abilities themselves.
And yet, Anatol sensed Anck shattering the illusion. Further, while she watched the Med-jai of today, she discovered something else. As the chieftain of the twelve Med-jai tribes, Ardeth Bey was a combination of king, general, and visionary. Ardath would have called her namesake and descendent a prophet, but Anck wasn't certain if that was the proper term. While not a seer, he was very wise, though very young, and was as much scholar as he was a warrior. In some ways, Ardeth was the most difficult to define, out of all the Med-jai.
She learned other things. Through Celia, she learned that the twelve tribes existed from the beginning. . .a fact which confused both Celia and Anck, both of whom thought each tribe was added on as the centuries passed. However, during a conversation with Celia about the first few years of the Med-jai exile, Ardeth explained that Rameses ordered the separation of the twelve ringleaders who invoked the hom-dai. Each was to take their family to a position near Hamunaptra, where they would stand guard.
Rameses had two reasons for doing this. Though he was spinning out of control, he knew, or sensed, that Khaldun infected the Med-jai with his own madness. Having those twelve together was a very bad idea. The Med- jai would expand outward, starting at the Hamunaptra camp. His other reason was a memorial to Ardath and the Hebrew slaves who raised her, the twelve tribes of Abraham. This, Anck knew from Ardeth, who recovered that memory of Rameses.
So, yes, Anck learned much about the Med-jai. There were some she learned to respect. . .a few she was coming to like. Now, if she could just do something about those pesky maidens and matrons. . . But she knew there was only so much she was allowed to do, unless Celia or Miranda was directly threatened. *I forgot,* she thought with a grimace, *how difficult it is to love someone, and be totally helpless where they were concerned.* It wasn't a feeling she liked. She never liked it when she was alive, and she certainly didn't like it now.
Take Sanure, for example. Of course, Celia handled her very well. Anck was proud of her friend, for the way she handled that bitch. But Anck still wish she could have done something to help Celia. It didn't matter what. Anything. And strangely enough, she didn't hold it against Ardeth, that he did nothing to help Celia. She understood his reasoning. There would be times when Ardeth wasn't around, and it was absolutely necessary that Celia could stand up for herself and her daughter when Ardeth wasn't in the encampment.
Anck understood that. She didn't like it, but she understood it and she accepted it. Just as she accepted, albeit unwillingly, that she couldn't do anything more after she dumped the tent on that little brat. She made her point, now she had to back off, or Celia would end up suffering for it. That sounded familiar to Anck, who remembered such things occurring back when Ardeth was Rameses, and Celia was Ardath.
She remembered now that even as their men considered her best friend a heroine, there were some Med-jai wives who resented her for her popularity. They never took direct action against her, of course. They dared not, for such a thing was tantamount to treason. Lady Ardath was the beloved concubine of the prince. To attack her was unthinkable. But those jealous women found other ways to make Anck's best friend pay. Some things never changed. Fortunately, the wife of Anck's Med-jai protector, Paziyah, was never one of those women.
Paziyah was jealous of Ardath, Anck remembered, though in a different way. It was something which Anck's forever friend never understood. After all, Shakir Bey adored his wife. She was beautiful. . .everyone at court said so. Even some of the princes remarked how it was a pity that a commoner was born with such beauty. When that remark was repeated by one of the more catty ladies of the court, Ardath found it necessary to hold Anck back.
This action reminded the carrier of these tales that both the concubines were of common birth. And while no one was particularly concerned about the quiet Ardath, they did worry about the far more volatile Anck-su-namun. Several concubines learned the hard way not to anger the native Egyptian. . .and a few learned that angering Lady Ardath was a very, very *bad* idea. A very few, but some, nonetheless.
Although, to be totally truthful, Anck was the one who was of common birth. From what little Ardath remembered of her early life, it seemed likely that her birth parents was well-born within their own societies. But the memory of a four year old girl is often faulty, and Ardath never fully trusted what she remembered. It never mattered to her, of course. She was raised as a servant, just as Anck was, just as many concubines were. But where Anck yearned to be free, Ardath yearned only to be loved.
And it was in love that she found her freedom. Anck found it strange, for love cast irons over her. She found it impossible to love Seti, especially after he had her coated with that paint. And her love of Imhotep led her to her ruin. To his ruin, as well. He still seemed incapable of forgiving her for her. . .or Meela's. . .betrayal, and Anck could not blame him. For even as both Mathayus and Ma'at assured her that it was Meela who left Imhotep, Anck still doubted herself. It was a new emotion, and one which she didn't like. Anck didn't remember feeling self- doubt in any of her lives. For the first time, too, it occurred to her that could be a cause for her ruin in each life. Her pride, her determination to raise Imhotep, and her lack of self-doubt.
*You learn quickly, my daughter. I am most pleased with your progress,* Ma'at said softly. Anck dipped her head, shyly proud of the words spoken by the goddess of justice. For the first time in her life. . .or afterlife, really. . .someone valued her for something other than her beauty or what she could do for them. Someone other than Ardath (or her reincarnation) and Imhotep. She found that she liked this greatly.
Ma'at continued after a moment, *Yes, child. . .it is pleasing to be valued for something other than your beauty. In your afterlife, you are finally finding value in yourself. This will help you in your next life. In the meantime, there is more work to be done. I know you struggle with your desire to protect Celia from any and all who would do her harm. And that pleases me as well, for that means you are learning self-control. That is very important, Anck-su-namun. That self-control may one day mean the difference between life and death for the Bey family.*
Anck's head snapped up and she looked in the direction of her goddess. What did that mean? Her self-control might one day mean the difference between life and death for Ardeth's family? More to the point, which family members did the goddess mean? Did she mean Celia and Miranda, or his brothers and sisters? Or something else entirely which had yet to reveal herself? Anck always had something of a temper. . .but she only lost control where Ardath and Imhotep were concerned. This warning frightened her, badly.
Ma'at continued, *We will continue to work on Seti. You hurt him deeply, dear child. If you had but reached out to him, you might have come to love him. He was lonely, Anck-su-namun. Terribly lonely. Just as lonely as you were. Just as lonely as Imhotep. And, there is one other thing you must know. Seti found it difficult sometimes to demonstrate his affection and regard. But he did love your Ardath, just as he loved Nefertiri and Rameses.*
*He bears the name of the god Seth,* Anck murmured numbly. Seth, in Anck's time, was the personification of evil. He murdered his brother Osiris and attempted to take the rightful throne of his nephew Horus. Her father reviled Seth, because the story of Seth and Osiris struck too close to home for him. Some of that was embedded in Anck's soul. . .driving her to consider Seti evil before he even touched her. But Seti screamed for Imhotep when he realized that Ardath was miscarrying. Anck saw the tears in his eyes as he cradled her friend in his arms, saw his tears once more when she died in the arms of Rameses after being poisoned.
Numbly, she realized anew that she never gave Seti a chance. She was too filled with hatred and resentment. Ma'at said softly, *As I said, you learn quickly. But you must not be too harsh on yourself, my dear. You were but a child when you arrived at the palace, only ten years old, and you already knew too much. You were fifteen when you caught the eye of Pharoah. It has always impressed me that your love for Ardath was stronger than any resentment for her good fortune.*
Anck almost argued the point, until she remember she was speaking with a goddess. Yes, she was jealous of Ardath when Rameses fell in love with her. Anck wanted that love so desperately. She was desired, but not loved, or so she thought. But now, everything she ever believed was being turned upside down. Anck no longer knew what to believe, and the only things which were stable were her deep love for Celia, and her growing protectiveness for Ardeth.
. . .
Jason Ferguson could hardly believe what Altair Bey told him. Then again, remembering the confrontation in Hamunaptra, maybe he shouldn't doubt her. Jason knew that the confrontation was fueled in part by the three-thousand-year-old rage which Lady Ardath bore toward Khaldun, but he also knew that Celia was in there as well. She was just as fierce as the concubine, telling Khaldun that he was paying for what he did to Ardeth Bey, to Jason, and to Celia herself.
His disbelief gave way to anger, as he wondered where Ardeth Bey was. His eyes must have given him away, for Altair said quietly, "My son knew that interfering when he did would have been disastrous. You will hear this many times during the next few days, as people discuss this. But it is true. There will be times when your sister will be challenged, and my son will not be here to protect her." Altair paused, glared at him, and added, "And you have no reason to judge my son." Ow. That hurt. It was also true, as Jason knew all too well. He hated when that happened.
As the days passed, it seemed more likely that Jason was destined to be surrounded by women who were stronger and smarter than he was. Even his four year old niece fell into that category. Which reminded him. While he saw his sister take on Khaldun, Jason also saw his niece implore Imhotep to save Ardeth's life. That hadn't surprised the young American, because he knew just how much Ardeth meant to the little girl. What surprised him, in part because he shared Khaldun's memories, was how uncomfortable Imhotep was at the sight of Miranda's tears.
Like her mother, Miranda never used her tears as a weapon. Like Celia. . .and unlike their mother Madeleine, who often used her tears to get what she wanted from her husband. When you came right down to it, that made those tears the most powerful tool possessed by his sister and his niece. Because they did not cry to manipulate, when they did cry. . . Well, it had the effect of making the person who hurt them feel that much worse. At least it did, if the person in question had a conscience. Which automatically removed Khaldun from the running.
But what fascinated Jason was the timing. This was *before* Celia broke the hom-dai with her blood and Ardeth's. Before the curse of the Creature was nullified, and before Imhotep's humanity began to return. At least, that was what Jason thought at the time. But what if that weren't the case? What if Imhotep's return to humanity came even before he returned to this world?
Seeing that she lost Jason's attention, Altair shooed him away. She had work to do. Jason chewed his lower lip thoughtfully as he headed away from her tent. He wasn't ready to talk to Celia yet, though he was uncomfortably aware that he was running out of time. His sister would marry in just two days, and he would leave soon after.
But he was not ready to answer the questions which he knew Celia had, and nor was he ready to hear the answers to the questions which he himself sought. At least, not from his sister, but there was one other. Imhotep himself. Jason headed to the tent used by Imhotep during the last few weeks. It was uncomfortably close to Ardeth's, to where his sister disappeared only moments earlier, according to Altair.
Jason could understand the reasoning. The Med-jai had no reason to trust Imhotep, given his recent attempt to take over the world and wipe out humanity. And, Ardeth was protecting their 'guest,' by putting his tent so close to the chieftain's own. If Imhotep was attacked, Ardeth would be the first to hear. While Imhotep remained with the Med-jai, the chieftain would allow no harm to come to the former mummy.
Especially since Ardeth was the reincarnation of Imhotep's best friend. Jason saw Ardeth watching Imhotep with a combination of suspicion and confusion. Imhotep seemed just as confused, and Jason couldn't blame him. The two behaved with a wary civility. Ardeth knew Imhotep bought him valuable time in Hamunaptra, and he was too honorable to ignore that, no matter how many years he feared and hated the high priest.
Jason knocked on the former mummy's tent, and Imhotep opened the flap. Well, of course he did. . .who else would have done so? It wasn't as if Imhotep had many visitors. He looked at Jason, who stammered, "I came to ask you some questions, if you have time." Imhotep gave him a once- over, making Jason very nervous, then jerked his chin into the tent. Jason didn't spend any time questioning the man. . .Imhotep was no longer the Creature, but he was still bigger, stronger, and far more powerful than Jason.
"What do you wish to know?" Imhotep demanded. Jason noted that his English improved once more, and wondered if the previous owner of Imhotep's current body knew English as well. Imhotep gestured impatiently, repeating, "What do you want, boy? I have not all day!" Impatient and imperious. Jason, who always became rude when he was nervous for reasons he didn't fully understand, returned fire.
"Oh, do you have an important engagement elsewhere, Imhotep? Please. You know that I'm one of the few people who will even talk to you. And no wonder. How many people have you killed in your little rampages? Or have you lost count? Was Seti even the first person you killed, were there others? You wonder why the Med-jai loathe you, but all you have to do is think back three thousand years, when you killed a man because he had the woman you wanted!" he jeered.
He found himself. . .floating. In midair. Just with a wave of Imhotep's hand. Jason was close to soiling himself, and Imhotep hissed, "You know NOTHING of my life, boy! Seti realized that another man touched my Anck-su-namun, and for that, he could have killed her. I was protecting the woman I loved, you little worm! As if you have any room to talk? How many did you kill, while under the sway of Khaldun, boy?"
It hurt, as it was meant to, and Imhotep continued brutally, "I had as much choice in the lives I took during my first rising, as you did as Khaldun's vessel. None. The Med-jai of thirty centuries ago cut out my tongue, boy! I had no way to communicate! I was just awakened after three thousand years of a living death! Can you imagine that, boy? My tongue was cut out, I was buried alive with flesh-eating scarabs."
Imhotep's voice dropped as he went on, "Do you see the faces of the Med-jai you killed while under Khaldun's thumb? I see the face of every person I killed, each time I awakened. Some of whom were barely more than boys. When I was in the underworld, after Anck-su-namun betrayed me, my penance was to experience the agony which I caused. To Ardeth Bey, to his family, to the O'Connell family. . .everyone I ever hurt."
Imhotep released him, and Jason fell to the ground with a thud. He sat up, groaning, and replied, "That was what I wanted to talk to you about." Although that wasn't quite how he intended to ask. Imhotep just looked at him, and Jason continued, "While I was under Khaldun's control, I noticed your reaction when Miranda begged. You refused, but you looked very uncomfortable. Which means you have a conscience. And that happened while you were in the Underworld."
"That is so," Imhotep sighed. He slipped to his knees beside the young American and continued, "It became more pronounced, after the little queen told me to heal the Med-jai. She took any excuse I might have when she threatened me with something worse than the hom-dai." So it was a matter of pride? That was what it sounded like to Jason, and Imhotep continued, "I learned more, while I was healing Ardeth Bey."
He stopped, looking sad. Jason didn't push him, and after a moment, Imhotep continued, "I always respected him. Even as I hated him for standing in my way, I respected him as a worthy adversary. He was honest and loyal. I wondered what I would need to do, to win the loyalty of such a man, when my own underlings were so pathetic. Hafez, who left his men, those who served him, to save his own skin. . .and Lock-nah."
There was a very real contempt in the former mummy's voice, but Jason didn't ask about that. He heard about Lock-nah and Hafez from various sources. Instead, the young American asked, "Why do you call my sister that?" Imhotep looked back at him, and Jason explained, "You call my sister, 'the little queen.' Why is that?" This time, Imhotep allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. A real smile, small as it was.
"For two reasons. First, even in Hamunaptra, I could see Ardeth Bey's love for her, and her love for him. I learned during my risings that the Med-jai now had a chieftain, thus making the wife of Ardeth Bey a queen to the Med-jai. Secondly, she is the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, who would have been queen but for a simple twist of fate. Do you not think your sister deserves to be called so?" he asked.
Jason sputtered and Imhotep laughed outright. There was nothing even remotely menacing about the sound, and when the former mummy calmed himself, he continued, "You spoke the truth a moment ago. You are among the few who will speak to me. I apologize for overreacting as I did." It took Jason's stunned mind a moment to understand what Imhotep was saying, and then the man continued, "Stay a while. I must practice my English, if I wish to remain in this world." Jason hesitated, then nodded. It wasn't like anyone was exactly in line to talk to him, either.
Back at the oasis, the object of the Scorpion King's scrutiny was relaxing in the arms of his beloved. After they saw his father and the thirteen year old Ardeth, reminding the adult Ardeth of forgotten conversations, neither spoke for a long time. Ardeth had no desire to speak, and even if he did, he didn't know where to begin. For so long, he questioned his abilities as a chieftain, questioned if he was a good enough son.
Those doubts were strongest right after the. . .right after Imhotep rose the first time. Did he fail his father? Did he fail his people? Despite everything, he began to think that he did not. Three times, Imhotep rose and threatened all which Ardeth held dear. Twice they returned Imhotep to his grave. The third time. . .the third time changed everything. Imhotep was more or less human now. The ritual which Celia performed in Hamunaptra shattered the hom-dai, though it did not remove his immortality.
The stories which his mother told Celia revived memories long- forgotten. Not just of his father teaching him to ride, but of that final conversation. The conversation he saw only moments earlier. Celia shattered the hom-dai. Celia provided the impetus for his mother to remind him of his father. Just as everything returned to Lady Ardath, the concubine's modern day namesake was finding something similar happening with his fiancee. And he wondered if Rameses found it as frightening as he did.
But the questions remained. Did he fail his father? No answers came, and at last, Ardeth reluctantly pulled away. There was work to be done. He sighed, echoed by Celia, and smiled at her. They left the pool and put their boots on. Once they were properly attired, the couple mounted their horses. Neither spoke; rather, they simply rode together. They did not touch, as Ardeth was uncomfortable with public displays of affection. And once they left the oasis, they were far more likely to be seen.
Celia understood this, too. She smiled when he tried to explain it to her, tried to explain that it didn't mean that his actions while they were around his people didn't love her. Instead, she told him that she figured that out, and she was grateful that he was letting her deal with most of these problems on her own. As she liked to remind him, she was thirty years old, not a callow girl mooning over a warrior she couldn't have.
Sweet Celia. The women of his family were concerned about her, because she was too sweet, too understanding, and too accomodating. They understood why, but it still worried them. Ardeth remembered a conversation he had with his sister the previous day. Acacia stopped him, asking about wedding plans. They talked about the wedding for a few moments, before Acacia finally told him what troubled her.
Celia was being too nice. Ardeth greeted this remark with a frankly disbelieving stare. Acacia sighed, explaining that his intended was practically bending over backward. While the Med-jai appreciated her attempts, they were finding it very difficult to believe this was the same woman who defeated Khaldun. For that matter, they had yet to see the fiery woman who put Anatol in his place.
Ardeth should have expected *that* story to make the rounds. However, he said only that until someone pushed Celia too far, no one would see the real woman. Even so, he knew Acacia was right. Celia was trying too hard, being too nice and too understanding. But, he didn't know what to do. Ardeth was never in a relationship, and he didn't know if he should speak to his betrothed or let her find her own way.
He and Celia dismounted inside the corral, and Ardeth said softly, "The patrol is due back. I must meet with them." To his gratification, there was disappointment in her eyes, and he added, kissing her forehead, "I will find you when I can. This I swear." He was rewarded with a bright smile, then turned toward his tent. He didn't get far, as a shrill insult in Arabic caught his attention. Ardeth turned back and almost groaned.
It wasn't a maiden. Rather, it was the mother of the children who tormented Miranda, Sanure. She demanded that Acacia force her children to end their friendship with Miranda after the pair refused to play with her two younger children. Ardeth started over, but was stopped by Garai. The old man whispered, "La. Allow Celia to handle this, Ardeth. She knows not what that little viper calls her, but she does know the hatred."
Ardeth stared at the older warrior. His strongest desire was to intervene, but before he could, something happened. He didn't know what, or how the balance of power shifted in Celia's favor. He only knew that as he looked back, Sanure was on her knees in front of Celia, his fiancee's dagger at her throat. Her fingers were twisted in the other's hair, her eyes ablaze. Ardeth blinked, and Garai murmured, "I knew this would happen eventually. Much of Lady Ardath remains."
Ardeth could not argue. His own memories of being Rameses hummed just below the surface, whispering to him about the young concubine's temper. Especially when one was foolish enough to harm those she loved most in the world. Ardeth saw some of that temper as he fought for his life, before being called to face Khaldun. He wasn't unconscious the entire time, though he was sure Evy believed he was.
Ardeth returned his attention back to the present, and the looming danger. But no one approached his intended. Celia growled, her dagger still at Sanure's throat, "I have had just about enough of you, lady. I don't know what the hell you just said to me, but I can bet it wasn't polite or pretty. So I won't be polite or pretty either. You don't like me? Hey, that's fine. . .I don't like you. But I'm not leaving. I'm marrying Ardeth. I love him, he loves me, and I will fight every demon in the Underworld for him."
The Med-jai woman struggled, but the American held firm, her hazel eyes flashing with fury. Celia wound her fingers more tightly into Sanure's hair, hissing, "Hold still, or I'll slit your throat now." Adeth had no doubt that Celia would do so. He wasn't the only one. Sanure stilled, her eyes darting about. Ardeth wondered if he should intervene. Not yet. Tension was building for several weeks, especially after Miranda was involved. It was time this was settled, and he knew he had to let Celia do this.
And speaking of Miranda. . . Ardeth winced as his mother emerged from her tent, carrying Miranda on her hip. The little girl looked at her mother and asked *his* mother something. Garai murmured at his side, "Lady Altair is informing Miranda that the mean lady is she whose children made fun of Miranda. The mean lady also said very, very bad things about Miranda's mother, and that is why Celia holds the knife to her throat."
Ardeth looked at the older man in surprise, and Garai shrugged. He continued with a smile, "Back before you were born, I lost my hearing temporarily, and learned to read lips. I still use it." Ardeth nodded and started to turn his attention back to his intended. . .only to have a very unpleasant thought cross his mind. He looked back at Garai, whose smile broadened further and he added, obviously knowing what troubled Ardeth, "Relax, my chieftain. I would not use it against you or your queen."
Ardeth nodded, eyeing Garai warily, before looked back at Celia. Ardeth's mother was at her side, and made no attempt to stop his betrothed. Instead, she was translating what Celia said up to this point, making sure she didn't sugarcoat any of it. In fact, she was quite blunt. The matriarch gave Celia a little nod, then Celia continued in English, "That goes for everyone. I don't care if you don't like me. There's a number of you whom I don't like. But get used to me, because I'm here to stay."
"Well said, my queen," Garai murmured in ancient Egyptian, "draw your line in the sand, and let all take heed. No one can say that they were not warned about what would happen if they crossed you." Ardeth fought his desire to bite his lip, fearing that it would be noticed, and seen as a sign of weakness. He could afford no weakness. Nor could Celia. He willed himself to remain totally still, and keep his face a stoic mask.
His wife-to-be paused, allowing Ardeth's mother to translate what she said. Once she received a nod, Celia continued, "And quite frankly, you all disappoint me. I thought that Ardeth was loved and respected by his people. That's not what I hear among you. To say as you have, that I have cast a spell over him, is nothing short of disrespectful toward your chieftain. Do you honestly think that someone like me could cast a spell? Much less one which would enthrall someone as strong and fierce as Ardeth?"
"Well, that's an ouchie," Rick O'Connell murmured, slipping to Ardeth's other side. The chieftain nodded. He did not comment, however, and it wasn't really necessary. His old friend continued, "Then again, this has been building for weeks now. It was just a matter of time before she finally lost her patience." Again, Ardeth nodded, listening intently as his mother translated, word for word, what Celia said. From the corner of his eye, the chieftain saw Sanure's husband Rami steaming toward the women.
But before he could reach Celia, Garai released Ardeth and slipped away, blocking the warrior's path. All fell silent at Celia's next words. She all but growled, "And know this. Anyone else who harms my child will face the consequences, which will not include a collapsing tent or anything else Anck-su-namun can dream up. No, you will face me, the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. And whether you know it or not, she was the architect of most of their pranks."
To emphasize her words, Celia jerked Sanure's head. Point taken. Ardeth realized, however, that the crisis was not yet over. He was right. Next, Celia glared at Rami, adding contemptuously, "And as for you. Such a big man you are, encouraging your children to torment someone smaller and weaker than themselves. Such a great warrior, to try to intimidate a child yourself. You are nothing beside the man whom I will marry, for Ardeth Bey would never seek to harm a child as you have!"
"Definite ouchie there. Hate to be the one to tell you this, Ardeth old buddy, but I think Celia's getting close to the danger zone. She may have overstepped her boundaries just then," O'Connell murmured. Ardeth wasn't so sure of that. This day's work would not win her any friends. . .but he was too much of a warrior not to recognize what it did do. Celia just drew a line in the sand, and warned those assembled not to push her. And it was time he gave aid and comfort to the woman whom he chose as his wife.
With that in mind, he stepped away from O'Connell and Garai, and headed for Celia. There was a moment of fear in her eyes, that she went too far, but only a moment. The next moment, there was steely determination, and Ardeth knew that she would stand up to him as well. He whispered to her, "Release her, love, you have made your point." He looked at the dagger, still held against Sanure's throat, and added, "No pun intended."
Celia managed a weak smile and released Sanure. Ardeth looked up, making eye contact with all assembled. Some looked away in shame, others were nodding, while still others were blank-faced. It was this last category whom concerned the chieftain the most. He stared at them steadily, then said clearly, "Hear me well! Do not think that I have not heard your whisperings against the woman I love, because I have taken no action. I have heard. I have simply allowed Celia to handle this as she sees fit."
His mother passed Miranda to him, and Ardeth looked at the warrior now helping his wife to her feet. Rami could barely meet his eyes, though Ardeth wasn't certain if it was from shame or fury. The chieftain thought for a moment, making his next decision. Should he keep going? No. No, it wasn't necessary. He made his point. Instead, he drew Celia more tightly against his body and led her toward the tent they would share after they were married. Ardeth wasn't sure if he should be surprised or amused when O'Connell shifted to stand behind him, his eyes narrowed in a warning.
He chose to be grateful. Ardeth felt Celia trembling, and tightened his arms around her. They were not yet out of the danger zone. Though O'Connell would watch for attacks from behind, Ardeth did not trust Rami. He was young and impetuous. Never mind that he was the same age as Ardeth, that was hardly the point. The man was proud, and he would not be pleased that a foreigner bested his wife. Ardeth himself was proud, but he knew the line between pride and stupidity fairly well.
Rami was another story. If not for fourteen year old Yanit, his niece, Ardeth would have written off the entire family. She was the most stable adult in the family, Ardeth knew, though she was almost young enough to be their daughter. She came to live with the couple after the death of her father, Rami's brother. A glance toward the young girl told Ardeth that Yanit looked utterly ashamed. She returned his gaze, mouthing, 'forgive me.' He would talk to her later. This was not her fault.
And judging from her expression, he would have a hard time convincing her of that. He could see it, in the way she watched her aunt and uncle. She wasn't the only one watching. Even as O'Connell watched from behind, movement out of the corner of his eye told Ardeth that Garai and Hanif were watching the sides. Garai was physically blocking Rami's path, just in case he took it into his head to cause more trouble. Just to be on the safe side, Ardeth would keep an eye on him over the next few weeks as well. It was a terrible thing, discovering that you no longer trusted your own people.
He knew such things would happen, when he fell in love with Celia. Rather, he realized as much when he acknowledged that he was in love with her. It was one reason he struggled with asking her to marry him. There was as time, not so long ago, when Ardeth would have chosen to release Celia. He still wasn't sure if the route he chose was more selfish or not. But Evy's words to him, about allowing Celia to choose for herself, reverberated through his soul. She made her choice.
He looked down at her, wondering if she now regretted that choice. Celia sensed his eyes on her, and looked up at him. She gave him a tiny smile, and what he saw in her expression was not of resentment or regret, but relief. Ardeth remembered what she said earlier, about fearing she would fail in him in some way. Celia was afraid she failed him by pushing back this time, and Ardeth realized the opposite was true. He failed her.
He swore to himself that this would be the last time he failed her. Ardeth held Celia's eyes with his own, trying desperately to communicate to this woman just how much he loved her. There would be times when he could not be there for her. . .times when duty would call him away. But Celia demonstrated to the Med-jai that she would fight for what she considered hers, and now Ardeth could demonstrate something else. That he would stand with his wife.
After a moment, Celia's smile widened, and it extended to her eyes. She mouthed, 'I love you.' It was Ardeth's turn to smile, for she *had* understood what was in his heart after all. It would not be easy, marrying this woman. But it would be worth it. That much, Ardeth knew. It would be worth it. . .this woman, and the children they would have together, made it worth it. In his mind's eye, Ardeth saw the children they would have together. Children with curly dark hair and hazel eyes. Or maybe brown eyes. Either was fine. As long as they had Celia's smile.
Yes, all the trouble in the world was worth this woman. Yes, his status as the Med-jai chieftain would complicate things. But this woman would not be easily frightened away. Ardeth only wished that everything in his life would be settled that well. The Elders were already making noise about the children he had with Celia, reminding him that she wasn't as young as Anatol's female contemporaries, and it was best for them to get started right away. Annoying old men!
Although, he had to admit. . .he was looking forward to creating those babies!
. . .
She went too far. And yet, as Celia returned her dagger to its sheath, she couldn't regret her actions. She was nice the last few weeks, and now, her patience was gone. Celia was a reasonable woman, but enough was enough. No. No, she didn't regret her actions. However, she was startled when Ardeth put his arm around her shoulders, and looking into her fiancé's eyes, she realized she didn't go too far, after all. It wasn't just meant to urge her away from the confrontation, but also a protective embrace.
Behind her, Altair started speaking in Arabic, and Miranda asked softly, "Ardeth? Mommy? What's Gramma Altair saying?" Celia looked up at her fiancé, to see a mischievous smile lighting his handsome face. Ohhh, this promised to be good! Miranda continued, "And Mommy, where did you learn to do that? Gramma Altair said that you've been deceiving her, that you fight better than you said you do!"
"Your mother does not like to speak of her fighting skills, Miranda, that is not her way. And your grandmother has informed everyone that she regards your mother as her daughter. That is very important, little one, because now, everyone knows that Mother will protect your mother, as she protects Auntie Acacia and Auntie Aleta," Ardeth replied. There was a soft protest from Sanure, then Altair's voice rang out again.
Ardeth winced, ever so slightly, and added, "Your grandmother just informed Sanure that she should be grateful your mother is such a patient woman. If Sanure did that to your grandmother or aunts, none of them would have demonstrated such restraint." Celia looked at Ardeth in surprise, and he added with a shrug, "She speaks the truth, my love. My mother and sisters have all expressed concern at your patience."
"I thought. . ." Celia began, then shook her head. No, it didn't matter. Well, it did, but it could wait until Miranda was in bed. She asked instead, "Your mother really said that?" Ardeth nodded, his eyes lighting up with laughter. He looked *very* proud of his mother. Celia was starting to understand why Altair was viewed with some caution. Though much more mellow, she could still be volatile at times. The American woman was grateful Altair wasn't angry with her. She wanted to keep it that way.
"She did. Celia, my mother's caution with you is not personal. It is simply a mother being protective of her young. Therefore, she will not accept those slurs which you mentioned earlier. To say such things is to insult her son, and she finds that unacceptable. She is still becoming comfortable with you, love. Just give her more time," Ardeth answered. That seemed to be the cure-all. More time.
She knew she would not be accepted right away. Some of the warriors seemed to accept her well enough, but it was hard to say. The Med-jai were a very stoic people. Until a few minutes earlier, when that woman attacked her, she never thought the Med-jai would actually physically attack her. No, it wasn't all Med-jai, but just the attack of one shocked her. She supposed that was why her own reaction frightened her as well.
Celia closed her eyes, remembering the moment when that woman. . .what was her name? Sanure? Yes, Sanure was her name. She flew at Celia, her fist raised to strike. The young American woman had no idea what the woman said to her, or about her, but she knew she was in imminent danger, and reacted accordingly. As the woman's fist descended, Celia's own hand shot up, her fingers encircling the other's wrist.
In a fluid motion, often practiced by Ardath and Anck, Celia stopped the other woman's forward motion, using her own momentum to spin her around. This forced her attacker to her knees, and Celia pressed her advantage by pulling her arm behind her back, while removing her dagger from its sheath. Celia couldn't remember at which point she released Sanure's arm, to pull her hair back, but she did that.
One hand gripped her hair, keeping her in place, while the other held the knife pressed to her throat. Celia shuddered. It was the first time, since recovering her memories of being Lady Ardath, that she used those skills against anyone other than Khaldun. And it scared her. Not just possessing those skills, but. . .she would have killed that woman. There were times when it felt like she was spinning out of control, when she wasn't sure whom she was any longer.
A sudden warmth alerted her that they were no longer alone in Ardeth's tent. She looked up to find Anck staring at her with love, pride, sorrow, and anger. That was something else which required some adjustment. . .Anck watching over her. She did so with a fervor which sometimes frightened the young American. Celia feared that someone would get hurt. Thus far, the ghost only scared some people, but Celia could sense her growing frustration. It was just a matter of time.
"Auntie Anck!" Miranda cried out happily, shattering Celia's concentration. The little girl gave a little bounce, drawing a wince from Ardeth, and continued, "Auntie Anck, did you see Mommy stand up to that mean lady!" Anck's expression changed to delight, as it always did Miranda, and Celia smiled in spite of herself. Miranda gave another bounce, adding, "Were you looking out for us, Auntie Anck?"
"Did I not tell you so, little Miranda? I will always look out for you and your mama. There will be times, sweet niece, when Ardeth cannot take care of you. And when those times come, I will be there," Anck replied. She paused, then added wryly, "But in the meantime, little one, you must stop bouncing like that. It causes Ardeth discomfort when you do that. His ribs are still healing, because he will not take it easy."
Ardeth mumbled something she couldn't make out. It was in Arabic, because Celia could not understand him. Her memories of ancient Egyptian remained, and Anck looked at her questioningly. Celia shrugged, replying in that language, "I have no idea, my friend. I understand English, French, and ancient Egyptian, not Arabic. His sisters try to teach me, but I am a little slow." Anck glared at her and Celia just laughed.
It made her feel better, she discovered, and made Ardeth smile as well. She told him, "Anck's only trying to protect you, love. Miranda, Auntie Anck is right. . .you must not bounce like that. It will hurt Ardeth." Miranda's expression was somewhere between a pout and a worried frown. She loved bouncing, but she didn't want to hurt Ardeth. Celia heard Anck laugh softly at her side, also seeing Miranda's quandary.
Celia heard, of course, about the deeds committed by her protector. She knew about the murder of Seti, about Evy's brief time in the Afterlife. She knew about Ahm Shere. But it was hard for her to reconcile all of this with the woman who loved and watched over her. Whatever Anck did. . .it was in the past. And Celia was totally convinced that no matter what happened, the ghost would be there for her and her family.
She had only to look at Anck's attitude toward Ardeth. Once, Anck candidly admitted that she hated Ardeth. Not because of what he did, but because of what he was. He was Med-jai, and Anck spent three thousand years hating the Med-jai, even before she learned about the casting of the hom-dai. She hated them because they protected Seti, because in their own way, they were her jailers.
And yet. . .Anck grew to love Ardeth. Celia could hear it in her voice when she gently chastised Miranda for bouncing in his arms. She could see it when Anck smiled at him, though she did wonder whom Anck saw. Was it Ardeth Bey, the current chieftain of the Med-jai people? Or was it Ardeth Bey, the beloved nephew of Anck's heart? If that first Ardeth did, indeed, resemble his father so closely, it was a fair question.
There were no doubts when Anck looked at Miranda. Even if Celia had her doubts about Anck's love for Ardeth, or for herself, even if she wondered if Anck saw the present day incarnations. . .there was no such question where Miranda was concerned. Miranda was herself; to the best of Celia's knowledge, her little girl was no one's reincarnation. There was a chance, of course, that when Anck looked at Miranda, she saw what little Miriam might have been.
But Miriam never had the chance to live. Anck never had the chance to know, or love, her niece. Celia smiled to herself. There was a curious justice, when she thought about it. In the past, Anck was denied the chance to love her niece and nephew, for varying reasons. And as a ghost, she had that chance. Anck once explained to her that she was no longer condemned to the Underworld. . .but she was not ready to be reborn.
Celia looked back at her daughter and Anck. She thought sometimes that it was a pity, that Anck never had children of her own. Until Ardath came into her life, until she witnessed her best friend's transition to a mother, Anck never had much interest in children. But people changed. Celia was proof of that, as was Anck. But then, Anck was also proof that people could change, even after they died.
Celia saw that Miranda finally settled on a worried frown, and wrapped her arms around Ardeth's neck. She kissed his cheek, and Celia felt her smile broaden. At the same time, her heart lightened, and she felt as if she could deal with anything which came down the path for them. There was still the matter of the Med-jai who resented her. . .but for now, she had Ardeth and she had Miranda. Altair made it clear that she stood with her. And she had Anck, her celestial protector. What more could she ask?
. . .
So. The little tigress finally made her appearance. Altair was quite pleased with her daughter-in-law. Over the last few weeks, she watched as Celia's patience frayed. In her opinion, Ardeth shouldn't have talked Celia out of putting Sanure in her place. She knew why he did it. He was trying to protect his wife and child, and his people at the same time.
Even so, she wished her son hadn't stopped his intended. More than that, she wished she knew what to do to help the shy yet fierce young woman. When she and Suleiman were married, there weren't the pressures that Ardeth faced. The Egypt of the late 1800's was a tense place, as the world shifted and changed around them. The Med-jai were finding their job more difficult, with the technological advances.
On top of that, as Suleiman and Altair prepared to wed, there were security issues for the Med-jai throughout Egypt, not just at Hamunaptra. In 1881, Auguste Mariette, the head of the Antiquities Service, died. His replacement was Sir Gaston Maspero, and the Med-jai had to connect with the newcomer, coming to a new arrangement. As ever, there were cultural difficulties. But this wasn't the worst problem. . .Maspero might have had difficulties with the Med-jai, as he came from a totally different culture, but he recognized these strange men were his allies against treasure seekers.
Most of the problems the Med-jai had was with the director's need for more men. He had few employees, and could only pay them so much. The Antiquities Service was a government agency, and the budget only allocated so much. It was in the best interests of the Med-jai, of course, to help Maspero where they could. And they did. However, the first priority of the Med-jai was keeping Imhotep and other evils under the sands of Egypt. Which was NOT something Maspero understood.
So there were many things to concern the Med-jai, when Suleiman and Altair were married. Altair almost wished for something similar, so her son and his fiancee could complete their courtship without further difficulties. However, that was not to be. The Med-jai needed a rest, after two risings by Imhotep, and Ahm Shere. Her son needed a rest, and his week-long vacation in Cairo six months earlier didn't count. However, there was nothing she could do about that, and instead, Altair chose to help Celia in any way she could. Today marked another milestone, the day her daughter-in-law finally stood up to those who attacked her and her child.
Altair was proud of Celia. Not just pleased with her, but she was proud of her, too. Especially when Sanure physically attacked her, and Celia dealt with her accordingly. She knew part of it was the remaining memories of Lady Ardath, but there was also the very real fury felt by a young mother whose child was targeted because she was different. And for that reason alone. Not because she treated those children badly, but because she was different.
Altair accumulated a great deal of wisdom through the years, and she knew that while her daughter-in-law won no friends today, she did win some respect. She demonstrated that she was willing to stand up for herself and for her child. More than that, she called people on their allegations that she bewitched Ardeth. For that alone, Altair was fiercely proud of her. They were in such a hurry to blame Celia for the changes in Ardeth, or what they thought were changes in their chieftain, that they had no trouble turning him into a weak, incompetent fool.
However, those who knew Ardeth, who watched him grow up, knew the truth. Celia did not change him. She would make no attempt to change him, either. She had no desire to change him. In fact, Altair's instinct was that she would only intervene where O'Connell was concerned. Once before, she stood up to him. Outside Hamunaptra, when Khaldun took over his body. Anatol told her about it.
She would not intervene in matters dealing with Hamunaptra. Celia was no child who thought that the world revolved around her. For that, Altair was grateful. Her son chose a woman close to his own age. Her concerns about Celia had nothing to do with her age, her fertility, her intelligence or her love for Ardeth. Rather, they had to do with Altair's desire to protect her children. Once, she was not vigilant with the hearts of her children, and her daughter paid the price.
That would not happen a second time. She knew that Suleiman accepted Celia without question. But it would take time for Altair to do the same. She gave the girl a chance, and was rewarded with Celia's almost painful eagerness to please. It truly would have been painful, if Celia was ten years younger. And yet, Altair couldn't fault the girl for trying so hard. She knew what she was up against, and she wanted people to know that she was worthy of their chieftain.
But of course, she made the greatest strides in proving this when she stopped trying and simply reacted. What was Sanure thinking? Foolish girl! If Celia didn't do something to stop her, then Altair would have. Fortunately, that wasn't necessary. Fortune, though, had nothing to do with it, and Altair knew that. Well, one hurdle was overcome. She just wished that her daughters witnessed the confrontation, as it would have gone far to alleviate Acacia's worries about her brother's bride. This was a step in the right direction. There would be more hurdles. There would always be more hurdles.
And there was time for Celia to pass those hurdles. She had a lifetime to prove herself worthy of her husband. A good thing it was. It would take time, too, before Celia could accept that there was more to being a good wife than simply not undermining Ardeth. She worked *very* hard at that, though Altair knew Celia was struggling to keep her objections to anything she saw between herself and her husband-to-be. In addition, the newcomer was careful with the warriors, struggling to keep a balance between indifference and fawning. It was a wonder, given the work she put in, just trying to keep balanced, that Celia wasn't exhausted. Altair stopped, thought, then smiled.
Yes. That would work as an explanation for what just happened, only a few minutes earlier. Today was the first time in weeks that the Med-jai saw the real Celia Ferguson. The woman who defeated Khaldun twice, though admittedly one such time was with the aid of Lady Ardath, finally made her presence known. Altair realized, too, during the last few weeks that Celia's shyness was ingrained in her. From what she learned from Evy O'Connell, Altair's daughter-in-law was always shy in the beginning.
But when she was tired, her defenses went down. It made sense. Celia grew exhausted by her attempts to prove herself to the Med-jai. Anyone would, after all. And when she was tired, she no longer had the energy to be something she wasn't. There were times, too, when more energy went into treating people with courtesy, than showing them the same sort of contempt which they were currently displaying. Altair saw this reality many time over the years. She. . .
"Where is she? Where's my sister?"
The strident words surprised Altair, and she looked around. To her surprise, young Jason Ferguson was steaming toward her, his face a mask of fear. The boy stopped just short of colliding with her, and even after he stopped, Altair thought for a moment he might still topple over. But he maintained his footing, and repeated, "I just heard that something happened, a confrontation. Where's Celia, is she okay?"
He looked so genuinely concerned, so truly frightened for his sister, that Altair had a hard time connecting this frightened young man with the man who callously left his sister and small niece behind when they first arrived in Egypt. She wondered how much of it was because of what that monster Khaldun did to him, and how much of it was. . . other things. Altair hadn't lived as long as she had without learning that there was rarely just one reason for an event.
However, she said nothing of this to the frightened young man. Right now, she really didn't think he was interested in hearing her thoughts about anything but his sister. Jason was struggling to catch his breath, his hazel eyes wide with fear. After a moment, Altair said quietly, "Your sister is well, young Ferguson. A Med-jai woman did, indeed, attack her. . .or rather, attempt to attack her. . .but your sister disarmed her and warned her, and others, what would happen the next time she or Miranda were attacked."
Jason Ferguson blinked, then asked warily, "She's really okay? The woman didn't hurt her at all?" Altair just smiled at him gently, inclining her head in acknowledgment, and he relaxed. Such protectiveness of his sister! Altair never expected this! Jason's smile grew wider as he sighed, "Oh, thank God. I knew things were becoming ugly, but I never expected someone to actually try to hurt her. I haven't been a real good brother, but I do love my sister, you know."
This was said almost defensively, and Altair bit back a smile. She replied serenely, "There are times, young Jason, when you do things which will lead to harm for your sister. Most of the time, you do not intend to cause harm, but such things happen any way. This is the way of things. My oldest son was such a person. He did not always think, but he loved his younger brothers and sisters no less for his foolishness." She paused, then asked with an impish smile, "Would you like to hear about what happened, between your sister and that woman?"
"Does it involve my sister having an Ardath moment, and teaching that woman to never underestimate her again, or mess with Miranda?" the boy asked hopefully, and Altair nodded. Her smile grew all the more impish when Jason replied, his hazel eyes sparkling, "Then tell me all about it! I watched her kick Khaldun's ass. . .'scuse my language, ma'am. . .and I can still hardly believe that it was my sister who did it!"
Altair bit back her laughter. She actually understood how the young man felt. Except in her case, it wasn't her sister who surprised her. Rather, it was her youngest daughter. Quiet, easygoing, gentle Aleta who stoutly defended her future sister-in-law to anyone who dared insult Celia in her presence. It startled a number of people, some of whom never saw Aleta angry about anything. This, in part, contributed to certain jealous maidens whispering that Celia was actually a sorceress who cast a spell upon Ardeth. She must be a sorceress. Aleta was angry about something, and that was not at all like her. If only they knew Altair's youngest daughter as well as she did. But that could wait for another day. Right now. . .there were stories to be told.
"Then I will make you this deal, Jason Ferguson. I will tell you of your sister's confrontation with Sanure a few moments ago, and then you will tell me about the confrontation with Khaldun inside Hamunaptra. Do we have a deal?" Altair asked, holding out her hand to the boy. Jason's eyes lit up and he nodded, pumping her hand vigorously. Altair linked her arm within his, then began to tell the boy about the confrontation between his sister and the Med-jai woman, only moments earlier.
. . .
Well now, this was most assuredly an unexpected turn of events! Then again, ever since returning to the Med-jai camp with Celia three weeks earlier, there was one unexpected event after another. Everything Anck-su- namun ever believed about the Med-jai was thrown into a disarray during the last few weeks, and she had a sneaking suspicion that her ancient enemies were not yet finished surprising her.
First, there was Anatol Bey's cautious acceptance of her appearance in Hamanaptra, and her siding with them. It angered her, at first, his wariness. But she quickly remembered that the boy had no reason to trust her. Then, there was Anatol's discovery that she removed the illusion of Jason Ferguson, so her sister could fight Khaldun.
During Anck's lifetime, the Med-jai learned spells and incantations to carry out their task of protecting the pharaoh and his family. Those spells and incantations were passed down through the generations. It seemed likely that as the descendents of the first Med-jai chieftain, the Bey family would have that knowledge as well. But never did it even occur to Anck that the descendents of Rameses and Ardath would have magickal abilities themselves.
And yet, Anatol sensed Anck shattering the illusion. Further, while she watched the Med-jai of today, she discovered something else. As the chieftain of the twelve Med-jai tribes, Ardeth Bey was a combination of king, general, and visionary. Ardath would have called her namesake and descendent a prophet, but Anck wasn't certain if that was the proper term. While not a seer, he was very wise, though very young, and was as much scholar as he was a warrior. In some ways, Ardeth was the most difficult to define, out of all the Med-jai.
She learned other things. Through Celia, she learned that the twelve tribes existed from the beginning. . .a fact which confused both Celia and Anck, both of whom thought each tribe was added on as the centuries passed. However, during a conversation with Celia about the first few years of the Med-jai exile, Ardeth explained that Rameses ordered the separation of the twelve ringleaders who invoked the hom-dai. Each was to take their family to a position near Hamunaptra, where they would stand guard.
Rameses had two reasons for doing this. Though he was spinning out of control, he knew, or sensed, that Khaldun infected the Med-jai with his own madness. Having those twelve together was a very bad idea. The Med- jai would expand outward, starting at the Hamunaptra camp. His other reason was a memorial to Ardath and the Hebrew slaves who raised her, the twelve tribes of Abraham. This, Anck knew from Ardeth, who recovered that memory of Rameses.
So, yes, Anck learned much about the Med-jai. There were some she learned to respect. . .a few she was coming to like. Now, if she could just do something about those pesky maidens and matrons. . . But she knew there was only so much she was allowed to do, unless Celia or Miranda was directly threatened. *I forgot,* she thought with a grimace, *how difficult it is to love someone, and be totally helpless where they were concerned.* It wasn't a feeling she liked. She never liked it when she was alive, and she certainly didn't like it now.
Take Sanure, for example. Of course, Celia handled her very well. Anck was proud of her friend, for the way she handled that bitch. But Anck still wish she could have done something to help Celia. It didn't matter what. Anything. And strangely enough, she didn't hold it against Ardeth, that he did nothing to help Celia. She understood his reasoning. There would be times when Ardeth wasn't around, and it was absolutely necessary that Celia could stand up for herself and her daughter when Ardeth wasn't in the encampment.
Anck understood that. She didn't like it, but she understood it and she accepted it. Just as she accepted, albeit unwillingly, that she couldn't do anything more after she dumped the tent on that little brat. She made her point, now she had to back off, or Celia would end up suffering for it. That sounded familiar to Anck, who remembered such things occurring back when Ardeth was Rameses, and Celia was Ardath.
She remembered now that even as their men considered her best friend a heroine, there were some Med-jai wives who resented her for her popularity. They never took direct action against her, of course. They dared not, for such a thing was tantamount to treason. Lady Ardath was the beloved concubine of the prince. To attack her was unthinkable. But those jealous women found other ways to make Anck's best friend pay. Some things never changed. Fortunately, the wife of Anck's Med-jai protector, Paziyah, was never one of those women.
Paziyah was jealous of Ardath, Anck remembered, though in a different way. It was something which Anck's forever friend never understood. After all, Shakir Bey adored his wife. She was beautiful. . .everyone at court said so. Even some of the princes remarked how it was a pity that a commoner was born with such beauty. When that remark was repeated by one of the more catty ladies of the court, Ardath found it necessary to hold Anck back.
This action reminded the carrier of these tales that both the concubines were of common birth. And while no one was particularly concerned about the quiet Ardath, they did worry about the far more volatile Anck-su-namun. Several concubines learned the hard way not to anger the native Egyptian. . .and a few learned that angering Lady Ardath was a very, very *bad* idea. A very few, but some, nonetheless.
Although, to be totally truthful, Anck was the one who was of common birth. From what little Ardath remembered of her early life, it seemed likely that her birth parents was well-born within their own societies. But the memory of a four year old girl is often faulty, and Ardath never fully trusted what she remembered. It never mattered to her, of course. She was raised as a servant, just as Anck was, just as many concubines were. But where Anck yearned to be free, Ardath yearned only to be loved.
And it was in love that she found her freedom. Anck found it strange, for love cast irons over her. She found it impossible to love Seti, especially after he had her coated with that paint. And her love of Imhotep led her to her ruin. To his ruin, as well. He still seemed incapable of forgiving her for her. . .or Meela's. . .betrayal, and Anck could not blame him. For even as both Mathayus and Ma'at assured her that it was Meela who left Imhotep, Anck still doubted herself. It was a new emotion, and one which she didn't like. Anck didn't remember feeling self- doubt in any of her lives. For the first time, too, it occurred to her that could be a cause for her ruin in each life. Her pride, her determination to raise Imhotep, and her lack of self-doubt.
*You learn quickly, my daughter. I am most pleased with your progress,* Ma'at said softly. Anck dipped her head, shyly proud of the words spoken by the goddess of justice. For the first time in her life. . .or afterlife, really. . .someone valued her for something other than her beauty or what she could do for them. Someone other than Ardath (or her reincarnation) and Imhotep. She found that she liked this greatly.
Ma'at continued after a moment, *Yes, child. . .it is pleasing to be valued for something other than your beauty. In your afterlife, you are finally finding value in yourself. This will help you in your next life. In the meantime, there is more work to be done. I know you struggle with your desire to protect Celia from any and all who would do her harm. And that pleases me as well, for that means you are learning self-control. That is very important, Anck-su-namun. That self-control may one day mean the difference between life and death for the Bey family.*
Anck's head snapped up and she looked in the direction of her goddess. What did that mean? Her self-control might one day mean the difference between life and death for Ardeth's family? More to the point, which family members did the goddess mean? Did she mean Celia and Miranda, or his brothers and sisters? Or something else entirely which had yet to reveal herself? Anck always had something of a temper. . .but she only lost control where Ardath and Imhotep were concerned. This warning frightened her, badly.
Ma'at continued, *We will continue to work on Seti. You hurt him deeply, dear child. If you had but reached out to him, you might have come to love him. He was lonely, Anck-su-namun. Terribly lonely. Just as lonely as you were. Just as lonely as Imhotep. And, there is one other thing you must know. Seti found it difficult sometimes to demonstrate his affection and regard. But he did love your Ardath, just as he loved Nefertiri and Rameses.*
*He bears the name of the god Seth,* Anck murmured numbly. Seth, in Anck's time, was the personification of evil. He murdered his brother Osiris and attempted to take the rightful throne of his nephew Horus. Her father reviled Seth, because the story of Seth and Osiris struck too close to home for him. Some of that was embedded in Anck's soul. . .driving her to consider Seti evil before he even touched her. But Seti screamed for Imhotep when he realized that Ardath was miscarrying. Anck saw the tears in his eyes as he cradled her friend in his arms, saw his tears once more when she died in the arms of Rameses after being poisoned.
Numbly, she realized anew that she never gave Seti a chance. She was too filled with hatred and resentment. Ma'at said softly, *As I said, you learn quickly. But you must not be too harsh on yourself, my dear. You were but a child when you arrived at the palace, only ten years old, and you already knew too much. You were fifteen when you caught the eye of Pharoah. It has always impressed me that your love for Ardath was stronger than any resentment for her good fortune.*
Anck almost argued the point, until she remember she was speaking with a goddess. Yes, she was jealous of Ardath when Rameses fell in love with her. Anck wanted that love so desperately. She was desired, but not loved, or so she thought. But now, everything she ever believed was being turned upside down. Anck no longer knew what to believe, and the only things which were stable were her deep love for Celia, and her growing protectiveness for Ardeth.
. . .
Jason Ferguson could hardly believe what Altair Bey told him. Then again, remembering the confrontation in Hamunaptra, maybe he shouldn't doubt her. Jason knew that the confrontation was fueled in part by the three-thousand-year-old rage which Lady Ardath bore toward Khaldun, but he also knew that Celia was in there as well. She was just as fierce as the concubine, telling Khaldun that he was paying for what he did to Ardeth Bey, to Jason, and to Celia herself.
His disbelief gave way to anger, as he wondered where Ardeth Bey was. His eyes must have given him away, for Altair said quietly, "My son knew that interfering when he did would have been disastrous. You will hear this many times during the next few days, as people discuss this. But it is true. There will be times when your sister will be challenged, and my son will not be here to protect her." Altair paused, glared at him, and added, "And you have no reason to judge my son." Ow. That hurt. It was also true, as Jason knew all too well. He hated when that happened.
As the days passed, it seemed more likely that Jason was destined to be surrounded by women who were stronger and smarter than he was. Even his four year old niece fell into that category. Which reminded him. While he saw his sister take on Khaldun, Jason also saw his niece implore Imhotep to save Ardeth's life. That hadn't surprised the young American, because he knew just how much Ardeth meant to the little girl. What surprised him, in part because he shared Khaldun's memories, was how uncomfortable Imhotep was at the sight of Miranda's tears.
Like her mother, Miranda never used her tears as a weapon. Like Celia. . .and unlike their mother Madeleine, who often used her tears to get what she wanted from her husband. When you came right down to it, that made those tears the most powerful tool possessed by his sister and his niece. Because they did not cry to manipulate, when they did cry. . . Well, it had the effect of making the person who hurt them feel that much worse. At least it did, if the person in question had a conscience. Which automatically removed Khaldun from the running.
But what fascinated Jason was the timing. This was *before* Celia broke the hom-dai with her blood and Ardeth's. Before the curse of the Creature was nullified, and before Imhotep's humanity began to return. At least, that was what Jason thought at the time. But what if that weren't the case? What if Imhotep's return to humanity came even before he returned to this world?
Seeing that she lost Jason's attention, Altair shooed him away. She had work to do. Jason chewed his lower lip thoughtfully as he headed away from her tent. He wasn't ready to talk to Celia yet, though he was uncomfortably aware that he was running out of time. His sister would marry in just two days, and he would leave soon after.
But he was not ready to answer the questions which he knew Celia had, and nor was he ready to hear the answers to the questions which he himself sought. At least, not from his sister, but there was one other. Imhotep himself. Jason headed to the tent used by Imhotep during the last few weeks. It was uncomfortably close to Ardeth's, to where his sister disappeared only moments earlier, according to Altair.
Jason could understand the reasoning. The Med-jai had no reason to trust Imhotep, given his recent attempt to take over the world and wipe out humanity. And, Ardeth was protecting their 'guest,' by putting his tent so close to the chieftain's own. If Imhotep was attacked, Ardeth would be the first to hear. While Imhotep remained with the Med-jai, the chieftain would allow no harm to come to the former mummy.
Especially since Ardeth was the reincarnation of Imhotep's best friend. Jason saw Ardeth watching Imhotep with a combination of suspicion and confusion. Imhotep seemed just as confused, and Jason couldn't blame him. The two behaved with a wary civility. Ardeth knew Imhotep bought him valuable time in Hamunaptra, and he was too honorable to ignore that, no matter how many years he feared and hated the high priest.
Jason knocked on the former mummy's tent, and Imhotep opened the flap. Well, of course he did. . .who else would have done so? It wasn't as if Imhotep had many visitors. He looked at Jason, who stammered, "I came to ask you some questions, if you have time." Imhotep gave him a once- over, making Jason very nervous, then jerked his chin into the tent. Jason didn't spend any time questioning the man. . .Imhotep was no longer the Creature, but he was still bigger, stronger, and far more powerful than Jason.
"What do you wish to know?" Imhotep demanded. Jason noted that his English improved once more, and wondered if the previous owner of Imhotep's current body knew English as well. Imhotep gestured impatiently, repeating, "What do you want, boy? I have not all day!" Impatient and imperious. Jason, who always became rude when he was nervous for reasons he didn't fully understand, returned fire.
"Oh, do you have an important engagement elsewhere, Imhotep? Please. You know that I'm one of the few people who will even talk to you. And no wonder. How many people have you killed in your little rampages? Or have you lost count? Was Seti even the first person you killed, were there others? You wonder why the Med-jai loathe you, but all you have to do is think back three thousand years, when you killed a man because he had the woman you wanted!" he jeered.
He found himself. . .floating. In midair. Just with a wave of Imhotep's hand. Jason was close to soiling himself, and Imhotep hissed, "You know NOTHING of my life, boy! Seti realized that another man touched my Anck-su-namun, and for that, he could have killed her. I was protecting the woman I loved, you little worm! As if you have any room to talk? How many did you kill, while under the sway of Khaldun, boy?"
It hurt, as it was meant to, and Imhotep continued brutally, "I had as much choice in the lives I took during my first rising, as you did as Khaldun's vessel. None. The Med-jai of thirty centuries ago cut out my tongue, boy! I had no way to communicate! I was just awakened after three thousand years of a living death! Can you imagine that, boy? My tongue was cut out, I was buried alive with flesh-eating scarabs."
Imhotep's voice dropped as he went on, "Do you see the faces of the Med-jai you killed while under Khaldun's thumb? I see the face of every person I killed, each time I awakened. Some of whom were barely more than boys. When I was in the underworld, after Anck-su-namun betrayed me, my penance was to experience the agony which I caused. To Ardeth Bey, to his family, to the O'Connell family. . .everyone I ever hurt."
Imhotep released him, and Jason fell to the ground with a thud. He sat up, groaning, and replied, "That was what I wanted to talk to you about." Although that wasn't quite how he intended to ask. Imhotep just looked at him, and Jason continued, "While I was under Khaldun's control, I noticed your reaction when Miranda begged. You refused, but you looked very uncomfortable. Which means you have a conscience. And that happened while you were in the Underworld."
"That is so," Imhotep sighed. He slipped to his knees beside the young American and continued, "It became more pronounced, after the little queen told me to heal the Med-jai. She took any excuse I might have when she threatened me with something worse than the hom-dai." So it was a matter of pride? That was what it sounded like to Jason, and Imhotep continued, "I learned more, while I was healing Ardeth Bey."
He stopped, looking sad. Jason didn't push him, and after a moment, Imhotep continued, "I always respected him. Even as I hated him for standing in my way, I respected him as a worthy adversary. He was honest and loyal. I wondered what I would need to do, to win the loyalty of such a man, when my own underlings were so pathetic. Hafez, who left his men, those who served him, to save his own skin. . .and Lock-nah."
There was a very real contempt in the former mummy's voice, but Jason didn't ask about that. He heard about Lock-nah and Hafez from various sources. Instead, the young American asked, "Why do you call my sister that?" Imhotep looked back at him, and Jason explained, "You call my sister, 'the little queen.' Why is that?" This time, Imhotep allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. A real smile, small as it was.
"For two reasons. First, even in Hamunaptra, I could see Ardeth Bey's love for her, and her love for him. I learned during my risings that the Med-jai now had a chieftain, thus making the wife of Ardeth Bey a queen to the Med-jai. Secondly, she is the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, who would have been queen but for a simple twist of fate. Do you not think your sister deserves to be called so?" he asked.
Jason sputtered and Imhotep laughed outright. There was nothing even remotely menacing about the sound, and when the former mummy calmed himself, he continued, "You spoke the truth a moment ago. You are among the few who will speak to me. I apologize for overreacting as I did." It took Jason's stunned mind a moment to understand what Imhotep was saying, and then the man continued, "Stay a while. I must practice my English, if I wish to remain in this world." Jason hesitated, then nodded. It wasn't like anyone was exactly in line to talk to him, either.