Chapter Two – Questions

Bashaar evaded yet another potentially fatal blow from his friend's blunt scimitar and barely managed to block the brutal swipe that sent shocks of tingling pain down his arm as it connected. Ardeth's face was a hardened mask of grim concentration as he focused on taking down the last man who stood in his way. Training situations had always been this way. Pit one man against many to hone his skills. Six of Ardeth's warriors now sat on the sidelines. Winded and sore, they watched as their leader tried again and again to "kill" their captain.

Sweat poured off the two fighters, who had long abandoned their robes to the heat of the day, giving their bodies the sheen of polished bronze. Their bare torsos moved in a poetic symphony of muscle and bone as they tested and pushed each other to the maximum of their endurance. The blood- red tattoo that claimed vengeance for the murder of his wife and child burned bright against Ardeth's skin, which was darker than usual from time spent training in the sun. Four thin scars that were still pink with newness showed pale against his chest and abdomen, their presence a reminder of the last time he faced death and came away victorious. They joined the other scars that told tales of the battles this warrior had faced.

The Med-jai captain also showed signs of old scars. He was almost the perfect match for his leader in battle. They were alike in skill and strength, size and endurance. Usually their battles ended in draws with both men giving up when they were too exhausted to continue. Today, however, Bashaar saw the rage that burned in his leader's eyes and knew that the fight would be to the death, so to speak. He felt sorry for the person Ardeth was so angry with and wondered if he himself wouldn't be bruised beyond recognition in the morning. He blocked another stinging blow and feinted to one side, trying to throw Ardeth off balance, only to find himself off balance from the force of Ardeth's parrying thrust. With a grunt, Bashaar fell on his back in the dirt, the dull blade of Ardeth's weapon tight against his throat.

With wide eyes Bashaar watched the battle fury spark in his commander's eyes and felt a slight prickling of fear. Never, in all their mock battles, had Ardeth lost his control but it looked as if he was dangerously close to doing just that. Cold dread threatened in his stomach and he gave a brief thought of condolence to all those whose last view of this earth had been that icy, unflinching gaze. It was with no small measure of relief that Bashaar saw Ardeth heave a great sigh and lower his blade.

The small fighting ring resounded with cheers and Ardeth reached down his hand to help his captain up. Bashaar clapped him on the back and threw a companionable arm over Ardeth's shoulder. "Would you care to tell me what that was all about?" he asked lightly.

Ardeth's eyes met his, the cold fury replaced by a look of sincere contrition. "I am very sorry, my friend. I was . . . distracted and let it rule my actions. Forgive me."

Bashaar laughed. "If that was distracted, I would hate to see you when you were concentrating."

His leader gave a snort of amusement and reached for the towel being held out for him with a nod of thanks. Bashaar took a towel as well and grinned at Ardeth with his eyebrows raised mischievously. "Let's go swimming."

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"No, Rick, I mean it! There's something strange about Khay." Evy spoke quietly into the telephone receiver even though she was alone in her office.

"Now, honey. I'm sure you're just imaging things. It's not inconceivable that she's heard of Hamunaptra and as for knowing the tablets weren't Egyptian, you've been teaching her! Of course with you for a teacher she'd know the difference between Egyptian hieroglyphics and something else."

Evy chewed on a manicured fingernail. "I don't know . . ."

"Look, I'm sure it's nothing, but if you're so interested, just ask her. Now I've gotta go. I'll see you at home in time for dinner."

The click on the other end told her that her husband had indeed gone. She gave a groan of frustration and put the receiver down.

Evy sat for a few moments thinking about her secretary. When the O'Connell's had returned from Egypt, Evy expected the museum to be in a complete dither. After all, half the place had burned down and the other half was almost destroyed. She was dreading the inevitable questions about her absence and the chaos that ensued but when she returned to the museum, everything was humming smoothly. Workers were repairing the damage, masons were rebuilding the walls. Everyone asked her how her stay abroad was and said how they hoped her family was doing well after their sudden loss. Confused, Evy simply gave short, polite responses and retreated to her office. It was only after a few days of subtle questioning that she found out that Khay had taken care of everything.

The fire had been explained as a formaldehyde leak ignited by a careless watchman's cigarette. The bullet holes had been caused by a cache of old ammunition that had been set off by the heat. Her absence had been due to a sudden death in the family abroad. She had questioned Khay about all these things and been satisfied at the time with her answers. The chemical leak was obvious, Khay had explained, due to the smell and location. The bullet holes, why hadn't they been worried about those old stores of artillery for years? And what else but a death in the family could send Evelyn O'Connell off so unexpectedly. Relieved, Evy complemented her on her deductive reasoning and was so relieved that no one had any idea behind the real reason for the situation that the young woman's explanation had been taken at face value. She'd not thought beyond that point until now.

Now there was a different question - how had she known that the ancient tablets weren't Egyptian? It was true, Evy had been teaching Khay how to read hieroglyphics, but all along she'd felt that Khay was only humoring her. She'd long had the feeling that Khay knew more about ancient Egypt than she let on. And now this. Evy now had more questions than answers and decided the time had come to find out a little more about Khay Alden.

For starters, how was it that her shy secretary who'd never been outside the country in her life had recognized the language of the Med-jai, a people who weren't even supposed to exist?

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The cool water felt wonderful to the two overheated warriors. They floated in peace in the small pool of clear water that they had claimed for their own when they were eight years old. For a long time, neither spoke, enjoying the water and shade and the light spray put out by the small waterfall at the pool's edge. Bashaar waited patiently. He knew that Ardeth would talk about what was bothering him soon. It was always so. This had always been the place where they shared their secrets. It had been true for them as boys and was true for them as adults. When Ardeth started talking, Bashaar smiled under the water. Some things never changed.

"The elders have chosen me a wife."

Bashaar's eyebrows rose slightly. He, personally, was surprised the council hadn't done it a long time ago. "Who is it?"

"Some woman in England of all places. Her father is one of the Med-jai who have watched the outside. Nadhir Alaa' al Din is his name."

"I have heard of him," Bashaar said eagerly. "He is still remembered here in the city for his sacrifice in leaving to protect the outside places."

Ardeth made a sound of disgust. "I do not care who he is. I do not want to marry again. I do not want another wife."

His friend nodded. "Ah. I see. Well, then, why do you not tell the elders that you refuse and be done with it?"

"I tried!" Ardeth cried in despair, sounding very young to Bashaar's ears. "But Muzakir had a vision that led them to this decision. They say they are concerned for my heart. They say that I am lonely and I should find another to fill my life. Well, I am not lonely!"

"No," Bashaar agreed with bubbly enthusiasm. "You are not lonely at all. You simply spend every possible moment you feel you can get away with in the desert with your warriors and your horse, leaving your daughter to the company of many who love her but who cannot take the place of her father in her heart."

Ardeth turned on him. "That does not make me lonely! And there has been much work to do in the City of the Dead. There is always trouble and it is my responsibility to see to it!"

"And the rest of us are only there to keep you company?" Bashaar got very quiet. So quiet that Ardeth had to strain to hear him. "I think the council made a wise choice. If you cannot choose your own wife, they are right to choose one for you. Think on this my friend. I have seen the haunted look in your eyes when you watch other couples. I have seen the way you avert your gaze when the O'Connells are together. You are not lonely, my friend. You are desolate. And the elders are not the only ones who fear for your heart." With that, Bashaar heaved himself out of the water and walked away, leaving his king alone with his thoughts.

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The museum was dark, having long since closed to the public. It was with some trepidation that Evy spied the light under the library door. She peered in and discovered Khay high on a ladder putting away the books she'd been cataloguing earlier. From her vantage point, Evy looked carefully at the woman she was now beginning to mistrust.

Some of Khay's dark hair had escaped its' tight bun and hung straight against her shoulders. Her slightly plump figure lent her an air of studious innocence. Her daily outfit of unfashionably long skirts and sensible shoes gave her the look of a spinster librarian.

"There but for the grace of God...." Evy thought suddenly. She shook off the thought and continued her observation.

The library was stuffy and Evy could see beads of perspiration on Khay's forehead as she hefted the heavy books onto the shelves. Although she could only see her from the waist down and the neck up, she was certain Khay was wearing one the dark long-sleeved, lace-cuffed blouses she always wore. It keeps the ink off my wrists, Evy had heard her tell someone once and Evy couldn't remember ever seeing her without one on. With a glance, she looked down at the long sleeved blouse she herself had taken to wearing to work.

It wouldn't do to have her new tattoos exposed for the world to see. Not yet. It was with some surprise that Evy noticed Khay's sleeves rolled up as she descended the ladder.

"I'll talk with her now," Evy decided. "It's just the two of us. And if she's not as harmless as she looks, I'll deal with that." With a toss of her head and a tug on her blouse, Evelyn O'Connell prepared to confront her secretary. The tap of footsteps in the adjacent hall changed her mind and instinct sent her scurrying into a dark alcove. She saw only the shadow of a large, cloaked figure before the door to the library shut and she was alone in the hall. Body trembling, she crept to the door and put her ear against the crack.

"She knows of Hamunaptra. I heard her speak of it myself. And she has in her office tablets in the ancient language."

It was Khay talking but her speech patterns were different. It reminded Evy of someone but she couldn't put her finger on it. She closed her eyes and willed herself to hear better.

"What of the tablets?" A man's voice carried through the room.

"They speak only of the curses but if she can get those . . . "

"She can get others." The man finished Khay's sentence. A deathly silence ensued. Finally, the man spoke. "Watch her. See what she knows. I will make the proper contacts and see what we should do."

Evy had heard enough. She was going to creep back down the hall and into her office and call Rick. She turned in time to see her husband come down the hall.

"Evy! I was worried." His deep voice echoed down the long hall.

Evy used every sign she could think of for him to be quiet but he just wasn't getting it.

"What's wrong? Locked out of the library again?" Rick was almost to the door. "Here let me get it for you."

Before she could stop him he wrenched open the door. Evy stumbled against him when her support gave way and she tumbled into the library. She could see immediately that Khay was alone.

"Mrs. O'Connell! Is something the matter?"

"I want to know who you were just talking to, Khay."

Khay's brown eyes widened. "I don't know what you mean!" she said innocently.

Evy's own eyes narrowed. "I heard you."

Rick looked from one to the other. "Uh, did I miss something?"

"Quiet, Rick. Who was just in here?" The two women stared at each other, neither willing to back down.

Finally, Khay managed a shaky laugh. "I was just talking to myself. I do that when I'm alone sometimes."

"I know what I heard." Evelyn O'Connell was quiet and determined. She continued to stare at her secretary, silently asserting her authority.

Khay's hand rose to her throat in a nervous gesture. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

But Evy didn't answer. She was staring at the pointed tattoo on Khay's wrist.

"Who are you?" she breathed.

"My daughter." A tall, black-garbed man detached himself from behind the bookcases. Despite the modern suit, it was obvious that he was Med-jai. The proud bearing and facial tattoos were a dead giveaway. "I must ask that you give the stone tablets in your office to us. They do not belong here."

Rick held out his hands, a gesture of peace. "I'm afraid they do. They were sent to us for safekeeping."

"By whom?" The strange man demanded, he did not ask.

Evy pulled up her sleeves, exposing her own marks. "By your king."