A Med-Jai Wedding – Deb: LadiSwan@aol.com

Celia jerked awake, breathing heavily.  It took her a few moments to orient herself, while she remembered that she wasn't Ardath.  Worse yet, she didn't want to remember immediately that she was Celia.  This wasn't the first time she had that dream, or even remembered that moment.  But this was the first time she reacted like this.  Celia could still feel Rameses' hands on her body, her bones turning to water at his touch.  She whispered, "I don't know what I ate last night to cause that dream, but I should make sure the next time I eat it is *after* I get married."

A quick peek outside told her that it was still night.  She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and quietly left the tent she and Miranda shared with Aleta.  The night air chilled her, soothing her hot body.  Though Celia had slowly grown used to the knowledge that she had been Lady Ardath in the past, the dreams always rattled her.  Even more than the memories themselves, because the memories belonged to someone else.  The dreams were another story entirely.

Was she dreaming because Ardath wanted her to know something, or was this because of her own upcoming wedding?  Celia couldn't have said for sure, nor did she realize until her feet stopped moving that she had reached Ardeth's favorite spot to think.  The cliff where they shared their first kiss, the cliff overlooking Hamunaptra.  Death and life, forever entangled in that cursed city; but then, that was life itself, wasn't it?

She sank to her knees, allowing the chilly night air to dry her damp curls and cool her face.  The night wind could soothe the discomfort of her body, but it couldn't ease her mind.  Only time could do that, because what troubled Celia now was fear.  Even if she hadn't been Ardath three thousand years earlier, Celia still understood the girl's fear.  She had only been fifteen years old when she fell in love with Rameses, when she became his wife in all but name.  Young and scared.  Celia was twice her age, but she was still scared.

Terrified out of her mind, when you came right down to it.  It wasn't a question of whether or not she loved Ardeth.  She did.  Love was not the issue for her, and she was certain it wasn't an issue for Ardeth, given the risk he was taking for her.  But marriage was a gigantic step under the best of circumstances.  She was an American commoner marrying what amounted to Med-jai royalty.  They both had a lot of adjustments to make.  A sound behind her alerted her that she was no longer alone, and Celia rolled to her feet, drawing her dagger at the same time.

Then relaxed when she realized her fiancé had joined her on the sand dune.  Celia returned the dagger to its scabbard, remembering now that Anck-su-namun had sworn to watch over her.  Had the person behind her been an enemy, Anck would have warned her, even as she dealt with the threat.  Ardeth said softly, "I see I should warn you in the future, my Celia, or make my presence known as I approach.  I do not wish to be reminded of the first move which Anck-su-namun taught my ancestress and namesake."

Celia blushed and held her hand out to her beloved, sighing contentedly as he took her hand, then wrapped his arms around her.  Ardeth drew her back against his chest, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.  Both were silent for several moments, content to simply remain in each other's arms.  At last, Ardeth whispered, "I could not sleep.  Thoughts kept chasing each other in my head, would not let me rest.  I checked on you before I retired to my tent for the night, and you were asleep.  What woke you up?"

"Dreams," she murmured, "of Ardath and Rameses."  The silence behind her told her that Ardeth also dreamed of the pair, but that surprised her very little.  It seemed the young couple had a difficult time letting go and accepting their hard-won peace.  That was often the way of warriors, and whether Ardath accepted it or not, she *had* been a warrior.  Celia whispered, "Are you as frightened by what's coming as I am?  The wedding, I mean?"

There was a long silence, and Celia was afraid that she had hit a forbidden zone.  That was what Acacia called a series of gray areas, where Ardeth was still struggling with his duties as husband and as chieftain.  That forbidden zone usually came into play with his family.  After a moment, however, he answered in a low voice, "I am terrified."  Celia gave a soft sigh of relief, and Ardeth murmured, "You are not shocked or horrified by that.  Indeed, you sound relieved."

"I am," she answered bluntly, drawing an involuntary laugh from her fiancé.  Celia rolled her eyes and continued, "Besides, I would be neither shocked nor horrified even if I weren't relieved.  Ardeth, you forget. I know that I am not just marrying the king, the mage, the general.  I am also marrying the man.  I'd be more worried if you weren't as frightened as I am.  I'm also relieved because you trust me enough to be honest."  He laughed softly once more, gifting her with a second kiss atop her head.

"My apologies, my beautiful Celia, I forgot that I am marrying a grown woman, not a callow child," came his reply.  She laughed softly, at this oft-repeated phrase.  It sometimes seemed to her that he said this once a day, at least.  His arms tightened about her waist, then he said softly, "My ancestress was not the only one who was frightened that night.  So, too, was Rameses."  Celia twisted in Ardeth's arms until she could look into his eyes.  And when she did, his beauty took her breath away once more. 

When she could breathe, she rasped out, "Why was he afraid?"  For the same reason as you, my love?  The same reason as I, the same reason as Ardath was, so long ago?  Probably.  Love frightened people.  Passion was even more terrifying, for the way it shattered a person's control.  The lucky ones learned how to channel that passion, rather than fight it or suppress it.  Lessons Celia was only now starting to learn.

"For the same reasons as I.  He was afraid of hurting her, of frightening her.  She was only fifteen, and he was twenty-two.  He was so much more experienced than she was, and she was so very tiny, or so it seemed to him.  I fear that, as well.  I am afraid I might harm you, that I might lose my head in a moment of passion.  You seem so small and fragile to me, Celia, it would be too easy to break you in half," Ardeth replied.

Celia responded by kissing the side of his throat, whispering against his skin, "You could never hurt me, Ardeth Bey, and I'm not nearly as fragile as I look.  Nor do you frighten me." He was silent, and Celia added, "All right.  Perhaps you are capable of hurting me.  You have the strength for it.  But I know you, Ardeth, and you would not hurt me willingly.  Never willingly.  And I am not so helpless that I cannot defend myself, you know that.  I may never be as good as you are, but I can defend myself and I can protect my daughter."

"You have made great progress, my queen, I have watched you practice with my sisters and with Evelyn.  However, if I were to lose myself. . ." Ardeth began.  Celia turned fully in his arms, so that she could look at him full on without breaking her neck in the process.  She cupped his face in her hands, lightly stroking his high cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs.  He closed his eyes, a strangled noise emerging from his throat.  Celia leaned forward to kiss his forehead, before drawing his head to rest against her chest.

"Ardeth," she whispered, "why do you fear these things?  How many times, since you have become a man, have you lost your temper?  Have you lost control of yourself, at all?"  Ardeth sighed deeply, which meant that wasn't the problem.  Celia frowned, trying to figure out exactly why her fiancé was so troubled.  More than that, she wasn't sure if she should push him.  She was very new at relationships in general, and she was still a little in awe that this beautiful, fierce warrior was hers.  That he wanted her, that he loved her.  She didn't want to go too far. 

And so, she snuggled against him, trying to warm him.  His arms tightened about her, and Celia wasn't entirely sure if he was trying to protect her from something only he could see, or if there was something else which he wouldn't, or couldn't, tell her about.  In the end, it didn't really matter.  In another three days, she would be Ardeth's, and he would be hers.  After that, she could wait to find out what troubled her beloved.  She had waited three thousand years, after all.




.                      .                         .




Imhotep, once the high priest of Seti I, did not believe in luck.  Or so he told himself when he was young and arrogant.  One made his own luck, made his own destiny.  That was what he had believed for so many years, but now, everything Imhotep had *ever* believed was at the mercy of the gods.  When he had first walked the earth as a mortal, his best friend was Rameses, who had now been reborn as a Med-jai.

That alone told him that the gods were laughing at him, oh so amused by his pitiful attempts to become a god himself.  They had known, of course, that he would attempt to take control of the Army of Anubis himself, and punished him accordingly.  The people whom Imhotep hated most in the world, after that terrible night when the hom-dai had been cast, and his best friend was reborn not just as a Med-jai, but as the chieftain himself!

That wasn't the only thing, either.  Only six mortal months earlier, his treasured Anck-su-namun, the woman for whom he had murdered and endured that damnable hom-dai, had betrayed him.  Hadn't she?  The little queen, Lady Ardath's reincarnation, always said that it was Meela Nais who had left him in Ahm Shere, not Anck-su-namun.  And yet, Anck-su-namun apologized to him, asked for his forgiveness.  It was Anck-su-namun, the princess of his heart.  He knew that, could see the love in her eyes when she looked at the little queen.

The little queen.  Imhotep sighed, thinking of that strange young woman.  Once called Lady Ardath, after being chosen as Rameses' favorite concubine, now called Celia Ferguson.  She was a mystery in and of herself.  Imhotep had always fancied Ardath to be weak, but her threats a few weeks earlier proved him wrong.  He still couldn't believe she had threatened him with something worse than the hom-dai if he didn't help the Med-jai, Rameses reborn. 

And yet, she kept her word.  She had kept her word, shattering the hom-dai with a mix of her blood and the blood of the Med-jai.  She had kept her word and Imhotep was free.  Which begged the question. . .why was he here?  Why was he even alive?  Why had he chosen to follow the little queen and leave Hamunaptra?  Imhotep didn't know.  Why had he chosen to live, when he could have had peace, at last?  He didn't know.  He had no answers.  He who had once been considered a wise man, who had once counseled pharaohs and princes, had no idea of anything.

He didn't know why his heart still cried out, ‘Rameses,' every time he looked at the Med-jai chieftain.  His best friend was three thousand years dead.  The Med-jai was merely the reincarnation. *And yet,* an insistent voice whispered deep within his soul, *that did not stop Anck-su-namun from loving the reincarnation of Lady Ardath.  She grew to love Celia Ferguson.* But Ardath had not been reincarnated as Anck-su-namun's worst enemy.

Worse yet, Imhotep found he couldn't even hate the Med-jai, or any of his longtime enemies.  He couldn't hate Nefertiri, for calling out to the Med-jai.  He had tried. . .the gods themselves knew he had tried.  But the little queen, while she had given his freedom to him, had taken all of his excuses away from him.  "What did you expect Nefertiri to do, when she saw you murdering her father?" she had demanded angrily only a few weeks earlier, after he denigrated the youthful princess for her interference.

*What did you expect her to do?* Strange, how he had never thought of that before.  He had only seen that when she cried out to the Med-jai, she had effectively killed Anck-su-namun.  Never did he think about the consequences to others.  Nefertiri had seen them murder her beloved father.  And whatever else his flaws might have been, Seti had been a good father.  He had loved Nefertiri and Rameses with a ferocity that made Imhotep's throat ache to see.

Seti had loved his son's concubine, though he hid it well.  Imhotep was disconcerted to find a memory, long pushed aside.  It was after the assassination attempt on Seti's life, the attempt which caused Ardath's miscarriage.  Imhotep went to the girl's chambers and found Seti at her side, holding her hand and telling her stories about Rameses when he was a child.  Three thousand years later, Imhotep finally understood.  Because of his position, Rameses could not make Ardath his wife. . .but with that odd act of kindness, Seti had told Ardath that she was now his daughter.

Imhotep ran his hand over his face.  For three thousand years, his hatred for Seti and the Med-jai had driven him.  His hatred for them, and his love for Anck-su-namun, and everything had been turned upside down by the reincarnation of the woman whom he had once considered weak.  Even if the little queen was right, that it was Meela Nais who had abandoned him in Ahm Shere, Imhotep was starting to see the truth now.  Ardath had been the strong one, giving her strength freely to Anck-su-namun, to Rameses, to those whom she loved and who loved her.

The Med-jai had invoked the hom-dai, because Khaldun had infected their minds and souls with a killing rage.  No, he had made use of the rage already there.  Khaldun, damn his soul for all time.  But then, he had already done that.  And Imhotep's soul was slowly returning to him.  He had forfeited his soul long ago, but he was starting to learn the value of second chances.  And it was this which brought him out on this night.

He saw them sitting together on the cliff overlooking Hamunaptra.  Rameses reborn as a Med-jai chieftain.  His treasured concubine, about to become his wife at last.  Jealousy twisted in Imhotep's gut, for they finally had what he never would.  They had each other, and daily, they built upon the love which had existed between them for thirty centuries.  Imhotep could see their fear and insecurities, and that softened his heart toward them further.

Which made him want to hate them all over again.  With a frustrated groan, Imhotep turned away from the sight of Ardeth Bey and Celia Ferguson atop the cliff.  Why had he remained in this world he didn't understand and didn't like?  What could it give him? *Maybe,* that annoying voice said, *it isn't a matter of what this world can give you, but what you can give this world.  Maybe you should use this second chance to make amends, rather than take revenge.* 

Make amends.  He spent three mortal months in the Underworld, being forced to experience the pain he had caused.  Imhotep shuddered, remembering that time.  Did he really want to go back to that?  He remembered the pain experienced by that young American, the one with spectacles, when Imhotep had taken his eyes and tongue, and then his life.  That was the curse driving him.  The curse had driven him to kill many.  And what he considered necessity drove him to kill others.

No, not all of it was his fault.  But some.  He had caused harm to the little queen, who had done nothing to him, when he had taken her daughter.  Sweet little Miranda.  Imhotep had loved children, had felt true affection for little Alex O'Connell when the boy. . .when he had the boy abducted.  If he wished to atone for his wrongdoings, he had to acknowledge what he had done.  While the child's father and Rameses reborn fought for their lives, Imhotep's men followed the bus, ready to snatch the boy.

Twice, he had abducted children.  He had frightened both children, and left little Alex to the not-so tender mercies of Lock-nah.  That one, Imhotep would have never tolerated as one of his priests.  He had no understanding of loyalty.  He did not, and neither did Hafez.  Hafez had sacrificed his men to save his own pitiful life.  The former mummy didn't know the exact circumstances, but Imhotep was familiar with the type.  He was in the temple.  None of the other men were.  It was easy to figure out what happened after he and the woman left the jungle.

Why should he rescue him from the Scorpion King?  Imhotep believed Hafez received the appropriate punishment.  And maybe that was why Imhotep had chosen life.  Maybe the voice inside his head was right.  He could not atone for the pain he had caused willingly if he was dead.  Death is only the beginning, he had said.  He scratched it on the inside of the sarcophagus after the hom-dai. . .and he had repeated it when he died the second time.  But one could not usually atone when they were dead, unless one was fortunate indeed.  As Anck-su-namun had been.

He watched the young couple on the hillside for a few more moments.  Their story would be different this time around, Imhotep knew.  Rameses still had not forgiven himself for what he had become after Ardath's murder, but he also knew that he was never as strong without her as he was with her.  And Ardath.  Ardath would never let him go.  This, Imhotep could see, even as he see that he would never let her go.  The loneliness returned, swamping over the former mummy.  He whispered in his ancient Egyptian tongue, "Why, Anck-su-namun?  Why?"

There were no answers.  Not to that question, not to any other questions which he kept asking himself.  And so, for the first time in three thousand years, Imhotep found himself in the position of having to let go.  He didn't know how.  He didn't know how to start over.  But now that he was truly living again, without the hom-dai cursing him, he found now that he didn't want to die.  He quietly slipped back into his tent.  He had more thinking to do.




.                         .                                .




Anck-su-namun no longer kept company with Mathayus.  Not because he had angered her, but because Ma'at had another assignment for him, and she had her own assignment.  She would watch over Celia and Ardeth.  Right now, she was still learning what she could and could not do.  Ma'at didn't mind when she pulled pranks, but unless Celia's life was directly threatened, she was not permitted to attack anyone.

They still had to work out exactly what ‘directly threatened' meant.  That was proving to be the biggest hurtle.  That, and figuring out which lines she could and could not cross with Ma'at.  The one thing which Anck had truly enjoyed about Mathayus was, she always knew exactly where she stood with him.  And with a start, she realized the same was true of Seti.  As first his concubine, then his wife to be, she always knew where she stood with him, and that had given her a stability of some sort.

There was a similar stability with both Mathayus and Imhotep, to some degree.  And there was a different form of stability found within the love of her best friend.  The knowledge that she had disappointed Ardath weighed heavily on Anck's soul.  She knew that Ardath had forgiven her, that she still loved her, but it still hurt.  She had loved Imhotep and Ardath so much, and she had caused them both such pain.

*You have been told, Anck-su-namun, that it was Meela who abandoned Imhotep.  Many times, you have been told this.  Why do you not forgive yourself for that, at least?* Ma'at asked.  Anck didn't answer.  She was watching Ardeth and Celia.  More than that, she could hear what they both were thinking, and her heart broke for the fear which they both felt.  She understood their fear, of course.  She understood it, because she had once felt that same fear.  And she still felt that fear, every time she looked at Ardeth Bey.

Ma'at sighed quietly, then continued, *I see.  You continue to struggle with your own difficulties.  Acknowledging Ardeth Bey not only as the reincarnation of Rameses, but as the descendent of your friend.* It wasn't that at all.  Anck had long since accepted that Ardeth was the reincarnation of her friend, long since accepted that he wasn't just the namesake, but the distant child of her best friend.  It was just that. . .

*I wonder sometimes, Mother of Justice, if Imhotep and I would have made it.  I know that I love him, and that he loved me, but I listen to their fears.  Ardeth and Celia.  They are from such different worlds, such different places.  He has so many responsibilities, other than Celia.  And yet, they hold onto their love for each other.  I believe that they will triumph in the end.  But I wonder.  Did desperation drive my love for Imhotep?  The. . .the darkness of it?  The forbidden fruit is all the sweeter, because it is forbidden,* Anck told the goddess of justice.

*I can answer none of your questions, child, save one.  Even if you had chosen to leave with Imhotep that night, rather than sacrifice yourself in front of the Med-jai, your love for him was doomed to failure.  It was the wrong time for you, child.  Just as it was the wrong time for Rameses and Ardath,* Ma'at answered.  Anck looked at the goddess quickly, and Ma'at continued, *Did you truly think Ardath died only because Khaldun wishes to eliminate Rameses?  No, little one.  It was the wrong time for her and Rameses.  Wrong for them both.*

Ma'at fell silent, then continued, *What none of us could foresee was how quickly Rameses would spin out of control.  We needed him to be angry, to allow other things to fall into place, but there is a difference between angry and unreasonable.  At the end of his life, he was so guilt-ridden by what he had become, he denied himself the love of the one woman who would never leave him, not even in death.  In my own anger with him, I decreed that he would be reborn as a Med-jai.  I failed to realize that he was punishing himself.*

Anck looked at the goddess in surprise.  Ma'at added, *I am a goddess, little one, but I make mistakes as well.  Sometimes, we forget the difference between us and mortals such as yourself.* What exactly did that mean?  Ma'at replied, *It means that mortals are prone to punish themselves for transgressions, both real and imagined.  Gods do not.  I failed to take that into account when I was judging Rameses for his next life.*

Mortals. . .like Ardeth.  Anck had often seen Ardeth punish himself for what he saw as a failure.  Ma'at inclined her head, saying, *Just so.  Ardeth, like his predecessor Rameses, often punishes himself.  He fails to take care of himself, by forgetting to eat.  It is the task of Celia Ferguson to make sure he does not cause himself harm.  It was a task at which your Ardath excelled while she drew breath, and I see no reason why Celia will not do the same.*

Yes, Anck remembered that.  She remembered how Ardath often did small things to help Rameses.  Odd.  After being reunited with Ardath, Anck was remembering more and more about her forever friend.  It was as if she had suppressed the memories of her beloved sister through the years.  And yet, Meela had remembered Ardath as well.  It was the one crime for which Anck could forgive her spirit-twin.  She had been told that the O'Connells left Ardath's reincarnation to die, and it was for that reason Meela had killed Evelyn O'Connell.

Anck forced her mind back to Ardeth Bey and Rameses.  Looking back now, she could see that Ma'at was correct.  She had witnessed the tendency demonstrated by both men to push themselves to the point of collapse, and wondered briefly if the first Ardeth Bey, the son of Rameses and Ardath, had done the same thing.  More than likely.  She just hoped someone had looked after him, as Ardath looked after Rameses.

*That is why he collapsed so completely.  He had pushed his body to its limits, and beyond, and when an injury felled him, his body had precious few reserves of strength,* Anck observed, and the goddess again inclined her head.  Looking back now, Anck could see that Rameses had been the same way.  He would push and push and push himself, long past the point of no return.  And when an injury or illness felled him, it took him a long time to recover. 

The goddess agreed, *Exactly, child.  Some things never change.  Like Terumun.  You do not remember him being much like Rick O'Connell, but he was.  Especially when he was very young.  And he would have done what you are remembering.* Anck laughed with the goddess, relishing the memory of O'Connell trying to pull his gun, only to have it get stuck in his belt.  Ma'at shook her head in mock-consternation, adding, *Anck, you can be a very unpleasant young woman.* Of course she could.  O'Connell deserved what she dished out, as the saying went.

*I know,* came Anck's smug reply, *and I will whisper reminders to the Med-jai warriors of that day, as often as possible.* She grinned evilly, having no way of knowing that it was the same smile which Meela wore when she threw her asp at Rick O'Connell.  Nor did she have any way of knowing the fate of her spirit-twin.  Not that Anck cared, of course.  Meela didn't deserve her time or attention.  Not after everything which that bitch had done in Anck's name.

. . .

*Very well.  But Anck-su-namun, you should know.  You have asked me many times why constitutes a direct threat against Celia,* Ma'at said, suddenly changing the subject.  Anck blinked in surprise.  Ma'at continued, her voice growing softer as Ardeth carried a now-sleeping Celia back to her tent before returning to his own, *Very shortly, a direct attack against Celia will occur.  You will know it when you see it, and you are not permitted to intervene.*

Anck whipped around to face the goddess, a protest leaping immediately to her lips.  A direct attack against Celia, and she could not intervene???  Her protest died on her lips when Ma'at continued, *You wish for the Med-jai to accept her, do you not?* Of course she did!  Ma'at told her, *Then you must allow her to deal with this threat, alone.  As it is, half of the Med-jai women consider her a sorceress of some kind, because of the tricks you have played.  The other half find it very hard to believe that she helped to defeat Khaldun.*

Anck found it very hard to disagree with the goddess.  She had watched Celia struggle to remain patient with the rudeness.  Especially when her daughter suffered for it.  She also understood that Celia didn't want to cause her fiancé any harm.  But she also couldn't argue with the goddess, for she knew that at some point, Celia would have to fight back.  Her heart hurt for her friend, and quietly promised herself that she would support Celia when that time came.

*Very good, Anck-su-namun.  You have learned the first lesson which I must teach you,* Ma'at said, sounding very pleased with the former concubine.  Lesson?  What lesson?  On second thought, maybe she didn't want to know.  That was usually the case.  Ma'at went on, *The first thing which you must learn now is restraint.  There will be times, Anck, when you must allow things to play out.  You see the balance which both Ardeth and Celia must strike, and accept that there are some things you cannot do for your forever friend.  Much as you wish otherwise, your actions within the Land of the Living are limited.*

Anck *did* know, and did accept that.  But she didn't like it.  She remembered interactions with the other concubines.  Ardath quietly removed herself from the game, thus assuring her own victory.  She was startled as she applied that insight to Celia Ferguson.  Ma'at said, *You do learn fast.  Do not be afraid.  When she needs you, you may move heaven, hell, and earth for her.* In those words, Anck found comfort.  She only hoped it wouldn't be necessary.




.                    .                 .




As it was every morning, the Med-jai camp was awake and alert by the time the sun was up.  Everyone was either training, out on patrol, or helping with the chieftain's wedding.  That last task was huge.  The Med-jai, previously thought to be a grim, humorless people, had been revealed as something quite different during recent weeks.  Yes, they knew their task, but this was a time for celebration. 

It had been so long since they had a reason to celebrate. . .even if not everyone was pleased about the upcoming wedding, now only two days away.  But the man currently looking out the tent and listening to the conversation of the women currently making the wedding dress didn't really care about those people.  Rather, he was more concerned with a suggestion which had just been made.

"I dunno, honey. . .I realize that we're the closest thing Celia has to a family, but this is kinda ridiculous," he said, turning back around to face the women.  That remark was a Bad Idea.  Rick O'Connell recognized the expression in his wife's eyes immediately.  She looked even more determined than usual.  Rick barely bit back a groan.  Oh, he was in such trouble!  Then again, he was in trouble just by being in the tent while these women worked on wedding apparel.  On the other hand, given the recent events, it was probably the safest place for him.

In addition, now that it had been established that Rick's wife Evy and their old friend Ardeth Bey had been brother and sister in previous lifetimes (not just as Rameses and Nefertiri), Evy was utterly determined to take care of Ardeth.  And that included helping as much with his courtship of Celia Ferguson as possible.  Only a few minutes earlier, she had suggested helping Celia with a dowry.  And *that* was the source of his statement that something was ridiculous.  Not because they didn't have money, but because she wasn't required to give them anything.

"Rick, I don't think Evy meant that you should provide my dowry. . .I do have some money, along with the house, remember?  I just need to wire my lawyer back in Chicago, and he can take care of that, since Jason wants to strike out on his own.   Ardeth and I have decided to keep the house, just in case.  No, I think Evy meant you could help me get a fair price for some good horses which I could give to the Med-jai as my dowry," Celia said softly.

Rick looked back at Evy, who was smiling at him rather brightly.  He just sighed and answered, "Horses, and maybe a Thompson. . .my personal wedding gift to Ardeth."  Celia grinned impishly, and Rick continued, "Okay, I can go along with that.  You do realize, though, that it won't buy you any friends among those disappointed maidens that have been mentioned repeatedly lately?"  Celia shrugged, returning her attention to her sewing.

"I'm not buying friends, Rick, I'm honoring the traditions of my soon-to-be husband.  My concern is not with them. . .it's with being a good wife to Ardeth," Celia replied.  She set down the material for her daughter's dress, continuing, "I never thought I would get married, after what happened with Carstairs.  I never dreamed that there was a man out there who could love me.  Now, as a widow, it's not necessary for me to give a dowry to the Med-jai.  But I want to."

"Okay. . .just so you know what you're getting into," Rick replied.  However, he had to admit, he kinda looked forward to the day when some of those women actually bothered to talk to Celia.  While it was Ardath and Celia together who had defeated Khaldun, Rick knew Celia well enough to realize that the Med-jai women did not want her as an enemy.  Especially not if Anck-su-namun ran out of patience first, which was entirely likely.

The Med-jai had varied reactions to their new queen, from what Rick saw.  There were the spiteful ones, who could be found in every culture.  Some were appreciative of her attempts to learn their customs, while still others warily gave Celia a chance.  Acacia and Aleta were teaching Celia to speak Arabic, and their friends suffered through her terrible accent.  In return, she told them stories about Ardath and Anck-su-namun, who had made her presence known in the camp.

Rick bit back a smile, remembering one such incident.  Ardeth's family had taken Celia on a tour of the Med-jai camp.  It was their way of demonstrating to all Med-jai they approved of Ardeth's chosen wife.  This did not go over well with several young girls, including one who spat on Celia's boots.  Altair berated the girl, while Celia dried off her boot with sand.  Her face registered no emotion as the Bey siblings closed ranks around her.  Altair joined them after scolding the now weeping girl, and the girl fled inside her tent, which promptly collapsed on top of her.  Rick had no doubt that Anck-su-namun was responsible for that.

Celia had asked softly if Altair's scolding would make things worse, but Aleta answered that her mother was well within her rights.  Ardeth had made his intentions known toward Celia, and to show such disrespect to his intended bride was to show disrespect to Ardeth. Besides, the girl was far too young and immature for Ardeth.  This was said loud enough for all to hear.  They had to understand the consequences of such behavior, since their parents hadn't raised them well.

The following night, the girls' parents forced her to apologize to Ardeth and Celia at dinner.  Ardeth had not wanted to accept the apology, but Celia whispered that something to him.  He acceded, and said no more.  Celia accepted the apology, then offered food to the parents. . .though not to the girl.  She wasn't quite that forgiving.  Later, she worried that she overstepped her bounds, but Altair assured her that her generosity soothed some bad feelings.  She was proven correct when that mother asked if she could make Celia's wedding robes.  Celia shyly accepted, and from that rather inauspicious start, things began to slowly turn in her favor. 

Rick said now, "Okay.  So, you want to provide the tribe with horses.  You're not the kind of woman who waves money in the faces of others, even though you have it.  So. We should buy good, solid horses.  Not the most beautiful, but the most dependable.  And I know some horse traders, from my Legion days.  I think I'll hold off on the Thompson until later. . .Evy, Celia, do you know of anything else which the Med-jai need?"

The Med-jai were a fiercely independent people.  But they were still recovering from Ahm Shere and Khaldun.  And as Evy was so fond of reminding him, they owed the Med-jai a lot.  Celia answered, biting her lip as she tried to sew on a pearl, "Aleta has mentioned needing more medical supplies, especially bandages.  We can buy those in Cairo, I'm sure, or at Fort Brydon.  Strangest dowry in history, but I'm not exactly the conventional bride.  Altair, what do you think?"

She looked at the woman, who was helping her small granddaughter with her own sewing, and Altair replied, "Well, it is not particularly romantic. . .but we Med-jai favor practicality, which you have.  And while you are older than most brides, you are also considered a widow in our ways.  You have a child, so we know you to be fertile.  And, you do not embarrass easily."

"Well. . .in this case, I take it as a compliment," Celia returned and Altair smiled.  Celia continued, "All right, I need more explanations.  The Elders mentioned Ardeth courting me.  What does that mean, and what do I need to do?"  Rick blinked.  Did she ever stop?  She kept asking what she was supposed to do.  Fortunately, the Med-jai were a practical people, so it was unlikely that Celia would step on any more toes than she already had, just by being an American.

"When you and Ardeth are wed, he will give you a gold ring.  It is a symbol of his trust in you, trusted with his wealth and belongings.  This is a very old tradition, dating back to the times of the pharaohs," Altair explained, then added, "No, Damara, you may not have a gold ring, that is for Uncle Ardeth to give to Auntie Celia.  Acacia, take her back to your tent, I believe it is time for her nap."  Rick bit his lip, seeing in his mind a four year old Ardeth pouting like his niece.

"Auntie Celia. . .I think I like the sound of that," the young woman mused, and Altair flashed her a smile.  Damara was whimpering, and Celia asked, "May I have a hug before you take your nap?"  Damara buried her face in her mother's neck, and Celia continued, "All right, maybe when you wake up then.  Speaking of naps, I think my daughter will probably be waking up from hers soon."  Which reminded Rick. . .where exactly *was* Miranda?

"She is already awake, and Ardeth took her for a ride. . .remember?  You told Ardeth he could take her for a ride, once she woke up?  Maybe Damara isn't the only one who needs a nap!" Evy teased her best friend.  Celia stuck her tongue out at her, and Evy mock-scolded, waggling her finger, "Now, now. . .behave yourself, or there will be no time with Ardeth this evening!"

Altair looked between the two young women, asking, "I will assume, Evelyn, that you are merely teasing my daughter?"  Evy nodded in acknowledgment, biting back her own mischievous smile, and Altair continued, "I assumed as much. . .for I know that my son has not dishonored his bride to be by showing her affection other than kisses.  Celia, you asked about the courtship itself.  There are no specific Med-jai courtship rituals, aside from the ones I have mentioned."

She paused, gently patting the back of her granddaughter's head as Acacia carried her from the tent, then continued, "Each of our men courts his intended as he chooses.  But because you are the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, there must be a special ceremony the night before your wedding to my son.  A. . .an affirmation, that it is Ardeth who marries Celia Ferguson, rather than Rameses who marries Lady Ardath.  This will not be difficult, since my son fell in love with you long before he awakened to his memories of being Rameses."

"The ceremony will entail Ardeth telling the entire encampment, and the twelve commanders of the Med-jai, what drew him to you. . .and then you will address those gathered, and do the same. . .only explain what drew you to Ardeth, of course," Aleta put in.  Rick fought back a grin. . .who would have known that Aleta Bey, so quiet and understated, could be such a smart ass?  Celia rolled her eyes in response, and Aleta added, "And please, Celia. . .you are not yet ready to address us in Arabic."

"Would you like to tell me something I don't know?  Aside from why Rick is sitting with us women, instead of being out with the warriors, of course," Celia fired back.  The women all exchanged an evil grin, and Rick had a sense of déjà vu.  He had this same feeling in Ahm Shere when both the Scorpion King and Imhotep had looked at him.  Right before the Scorpion King attacked Rick, instead of Imhotep.  Which brought up something else. . .

But before he had a chance to speak, Evy piped up, "You mean aside from the fact that the last time he was out with the warriors, he. . .?"  Rick immediately kissed his wife.  He really didn't want to think about that.  Still, the rest of the women were all struggling to keep from laughing.  Evy blinked as he pulled back, and Rick grinned.  Ardeth harassed him earlier, teasing that Rick lost his touch with Evy after an argument.  He was wrong.  Oh, did Rick still have it!

"Vengeance is ours, sayeth the ladies," Celia added, grinning impishly.  She really was not the same girl whom he, Ardeth, Jonathan, and Anatol had found at the Cairo dock nearly two months earlier.  Then again, falling in love and kicking the ass of a seriously evil spirit tended to have that effect on a woman.  Just look at Evy.  Celia added, grinning at Aleta, "But, O'Connell, you really must be more careful with your gun."

He should have known that was coming.  He really should have seen it coming.  The entire group of women erupted into giggles, including the queen mother herself.  Rick glared at Celia, trying desperately to hang onto what was left of his dignity, and fired back, "You know, you sound more like Ardeth every day!"  Ooookay. . .that didn't quite have the impact that he was looking for!  Celia just raised her eyebrows, her lips twitching with laughter.

Just when Rick thought he MIGHT get off lucky, Celia answered sweetly, "Rick, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."  The entire tent erupted into laughter.  Rick did the only thing he could.  He left the women's tent. . .he wasn't entirely sure where he was going.  Just as long as he didn't cross Imhotep's path.  Now there was a problem in the making.  That guy was waiting to do something ugly to the Med-jai, Rick just knew it.  And if Imhotep hurt Evy or Alex, Rick would find a way to kill him for good this time, though the Med-jai scrolls told them that Imhotep could only die by his own hand, when he was tired of life and tired of atoning.

Atoning.  Yeah, right!  Rick muttered under his breath, not even caring about the amused looks directed at him by the Med-jai warriors as he passed.  He was so annoyed with himself, with the ladies, and with Imhotep, that he walked right into something very large and very smelly, to the accompaniment of high, childish laughter.  Rick looked up to see himself staring right into the eyes of a black horse.  A familiar voice asked, with a hint of laughter, "Are you lost, O'Connell?"

Rick glared at the figure atop the horse. . .well, the larger figure. . .and asked, "How many times do I gotta tell you to call me ‘Rick,' for. . .for Pete's sake?"  Ardeth Bey just smiled, his eyes dancing with laughter.  Sheesh.  Rick could remember a time when this man was threatening to kill him, and an even more recent time when he didn't seem to laugh much.  As in, just a few months earlier.

"I apologize, my friend, but old habits are difficult to break.  Perhaps with the influence of my wife and daughter, it will become easier," Ardeth replied, holding that child in front of him.  Miranda Ferguson gave an excited little bounce, obviously happy to be riding.  Then again, it was just as likely that she was happy to spend time with Ardeth, her hero.  She had seen him kick Khaldun's ass, but Rick hadn't.  Some days, it just didn't pay to get out of bed.

Miranda said now, giving Rick a big grin, "Ardeth's gonna be my daddy when he marries my mommy, Uncle Rick."  That was what she had been telling everyone she had met during the last few weeks.  Truth be told, she was probably one of the biggest reasons that the tide was slowly turning in Celia's favor.  Miranda obviously worshipped Ardeth, and she was not in the least bit shy about saying so.  Not that everything had been hunky dory lately.

Shortly after Ardeth announced his intention to marry Celia, some Med-jai children heard their parents talking about their chieftain's decision.  Some warriors were disgruntled, fearing that their chieftain was going soft.  The attitude of the parents was transmitted to the children, who harassed Miranda.  The four year old responded by telling her mother that she didn't like it here.  She didn't like the children, they were mean to her.

Two things happened after that.  First, Ardeth referred to Miranda as his daughter in public. Then, Darius and Damara refused to speak to the children who had made fun of Miranda.  Darius told everyone that it was his job, as Miranda's bigger and older cousin, to take care of her.

Rick was brought back to the present by Miranda, who repeated happily, "I'm gonna have a daddy, I'm gonna have a daddy, I'm gonna have a daddy!"  With each word, she bounced in Ardeth's arms, and Rick fought back a grin.  Not just at the excited little girl, but by the snort given by the long-suffering horse.  Miranda stopped bouncing, leaned forward and stage-whispered, "Uncle Rick, I'm so happy.  Now Ardeth can help me take care of Mommy!"

"And we will take care of your mother, just as she takes care of us," Ardeth added, smiling down at the little girl.  He looked at Rick, adding with a pseudo-innocent grin, "So, you are out and about now?"  Rick just glared at the other man. . .it was just his luck that Ardeth had been there when IT happened.  Ardeth continued in a mock conspiratorial voice, "I understand, my friend. . .there is no dishonor in admitting they are frightening as a group."

Rick was on the verge of reminding Ardeth that he grew up with most of those women, until he realized that Ardeth knew that.  He glared at the chieftain, saying, "You know, I think I liked you better when you were all doom and gloom."  Ardeth simply laughed again.  Was this the same man he had told in London to ‘lighten up,' as they were heading out to rescue Evy?  Nah.  Couldn't be.  He asked again, "Who are you, and what have you done with Ardeth Bey?" 

One would think, after asking the question seven or eight times, Rick would get tired of asking it. . .and hearing the answer.  Miranda and Ardeth exchanged a Look. . .then Miranda sighed in obvious exasperation.  For the first time, Rick thought about the consequences of Celia's marriage to Ardeth.  She was formidable on her own, but he was starting to realize that she was even more dangerous with Ardeth.  And then, there was the matter of their children. . .

"O'Connell," Ardeth began, "if I have said it once, I have said it a thousand times.  I am whom I have always been.  You simply saw what you wanted to see."  OUCH!  Ardeth continued, "Now, if you will excuse me, my daughter and I must return the horse to the corral. . .and then she wishes to see her mother."  With a nod to Rick, Ardeth cantered off.  But as they went, Rick could hear Miranda chattering away.  He sighed and continued his search for Jonathan and Alex.  His life was so upside down nowadays.  Evy had embraced her past lives as Ardeth's sister.  Jonathan accepted his past as Nassor.  Rick remembered quite a few things about Nassor.  Maybe he should make sure that Jonathan's relationship with Ardeth was totally different? 

No, that was stupid.  Ardeth was in love with Celia.  And as he had been told repeatedly, ever since they realized that Ardeth was Rameses, having their memories wasn't the same thing as being that person.  Anck-su-namun was a good example of that.  She made things *real* interesting.  When she wasn't taking care of Celia and Miranda, she entertained all with her pranks.  Evy remembered some of her pranks, drawing upon her Nefertiri memories.  Evy and Anck-su-namun had a tense relationship, but while they might never be friends, they *were* allies. 

Rick found his way to his son's tent, where Alex and Darius played.   That was a scary thought. . .Rick's son and Ardeth's nephew joining forces.  The boys looked up with angelic faces as Rick entered the tent.  In fact, Alex's expression reminded Rick of Evy when she was doing something sneaky.  Rick asked cautiously, "Uh, boys?  You're not planning trouble for your uncle's wedding, are you, Darius?"

"Of course not, Mr Rick!" Darius retorted indignantly, with a glare he had to have learned from his uncle, "I like Auntie Celia!  She makes Uncle Ardeth smile and laugh."  Well, that was good. . .Rick had no doubt there would be mischief of some kind at the wedding.  Darius added with an even more angelic smile, "I wish to make sure Auntie Celia and Uncle Ardeth have a very nice wedding, that no one tries to ruin it by being mean."

Okay, now Rick *was* scared.  He lowered himself to the ground beside the two boys, asking, "And, what exactly are you planning to do?  Jonathan, how do you fit into all this?"  It was definitely Jonathan, sitting in the corner of the tent. . .not Nassor.  Rick could tell the difference between the two.  Nassor usually treated Rick as if he was barely to be tolerated. . .which wasn't how Nassor had behaved with Terumun.  Made Rick wonder why that was.

"I am merely giving the boys ideas which they should not use," Jonathan answered in the same lofty voice that he had used when he had told Rick about finding ‘an alternate means of transportation.'  That damn double decker bus.  Jonathan added, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief, "I happen to remember a few pranks which Anck and Ardath pulled, usually on Rameses.  I suppose I could ask Imhotep for ideas."

"Ohhhh, no.  No.  Please, don't do us any favors," Rick answered, shuddering.  It wasn't just the idea of asking Imhotep for help, it was the ideas which Imhotep could give them.  Terumun's memories told him that the forever friends had played many pranks on the high priest in the five years before Ardath's murder. . .and more than a few of those were doozies.  He could only imagine what two mischievous little boys would do to adapt those pranks.

"Oh, we would not do that!  Uncle Ardeth does not trust Imhotep yet, Mr Rick.  He frightens me and he frightens Alex," Darius said very seriously.  The eight year old glared at his younger friend.  Alex didn't like to admit being afraid, and to Darius, being afraid was being wise.  The small boy was just a child, but he was a Med-jai child.  Darius added, returning Alex's glare with a scowl of his own, "I will not ask him for help."

"You, Darius, are smart. . .you're gonna grow up to be just like your uncle Ardeth," Rick said.  It was on the tip of his tongue to add that he hoped Darius would have a better sense of humor than his uncle, until he remembered the mischievous streak which Ardeth had developed lately.  Instead, Rick continued, "Listen.  Whenever you two pull whatever stunt you intend to pull, I wanna tell your uncle that I don't know.  So, I'm gonna leave now."

"Okay, Dad. . .how is Mum?" Alex asked cheerfully.  Rick glared at his son for the reminder about Rick's disgrace in front of the warriors.  And then he glared at Jonathan for the snicker he heard coming from his direction.  Unfortunately, just because it was that kind of day for Rick O'Connell, Jonathan just snorted and started laughing in earnest.  Rick responded with a full-fledged glare, which wasn't working on his brother-in-law either.

Rick gave up.  He wondered if Ardeth felt like this when his womenfolk ganged up on him, and decided he probably did.  After all, he had grown up with two sisters, plus Altair Bey.  And that last lady was enough to make any man tremble in terror, even big bad Imhotep.  Rick told his son, "She's fine.  She's helping Celia and the other ladies with sewing for the wedding.  Celia wants me to find a horse trader, so she can buy horses to give to the Med-jai as a dowry."

"Oh, that is very good!  Auntie Celia need not provide a dowry, since she is a widow, but the Elders will be pleased with her!" Darius piped up, adding, "Some of them do not think Auntie Celia can bring anything to the Med-jai.  I do not tell my uncle. . .he would be very angry."

That was a nice way of putting things!  Alex blurted out, "For cripes sake, Miss Celia helped to stop Khaldun, and they don't think she can do anything for Ardeth?  They're stupid."  This was pronounced with all the contempt an eight year old could muster.  Darius didn't seem offended by this insult, for he nodded.  However, Rick decided it would be a very good idea to leave now, before he heard something he didn't want to. . .or gave the boys any further ideas.