The Forever Friends
by LadiSwan

Summary: Evy's American penpal arrives in Egypt with her young daughter and younger brother.  But as she sets foot on Egyptian soil, she becomes haunted by dreams of a past life, of a handsome prince, a young concubine, and the concubine's best friend. . .a beautiful girl named 'Anck-su-namun.'  As an ancient evil arises once more, Anck-su-namun finds herself in a Place-in-Between, and while there, she also discovers a chance at redemption. . .if she can look past Ardeth Bey's Med-jai markings.

**************************************************************************************************
Anatol Bey was very put out with his older brother for ruining his good mood.  They had just finished a highly successful raid.  There were no Med-jai deaths, only minor injuries.  They had even managed to capture one of the zombies, to borrow a phrase from O'Connell.  While Celia was badly dehydrated and baked half to death, she was alive and currently in the care of Anatol's sister Aleta.

And then Ardeth collapsed.  No, not right away.  He had waited until he was inside his tent, receiving his reports from the Commanders.  As usual, Anatol stood at his side.  O'Connell was with his family, and Miranda was with the O'Connells.  The last report was being given, when the Commander stopped in mid-sentence and asked, "Ardeth? Are you all right?"  Anatol, who had been looking out the entrance of the tent, turned his attention back to his brother.

For the first time, Anatol noticed the way his brother kept rubbing at his temples. . .the unusual pallor. . .and the lines of pain in Ardeth's face.  With a concerted effort, Ardeth lifted his head to look at the Commander and replied very softly, "I will be fine, Aarif, please continue."  Anatol exchanged a look with Aarif, who still looked concerned.  But the older man concluded his report, and Ardeth continued, "Very well.  I need a contingent of men to go to Hamunaptra, and find out if our men were able to apprehend Jason Ferguson."

"Aywa, my chieftain," Aarif answered, then said something in a language which Anatol did not recognize.  The young man only knew Greek, ancient Egyptian, Arabic, and English.  But there were tribes within the Med-jai which spoke other languages, for they were descended from Romans and other groups.  Many a time, outcasts would come to the desert to die. . .only to find the Med-jai.  They were absorbed into the Med-jai, which in turn created the tribes of the Med-jai.

Ardeth, as the chieftain, knew all of the languages spoken among the Med-jai.  Had learned those languages as a boy, lessons which Anatol never received.  Perhaps his father never believed that both Ardeth and Andreas would die without issue.  He didn't know.  Anatol did know, however, that after Aarif spoke, the Commanders left the tent.  All except one, Alekos, of the Geban tribe.  Before he could speak, however, Anatol's mother entered the tent.

"Mother," Ardeth greeted, pushing himself to his feet.  Anatol never took his eyes from his brother's face.  And, it seemed, nor did his mother.  During the last seven years, ever since his mother told him to go to Hamunaptra, Anatol and Altair Bey had been involved in a conspiracy of love.  Half the time, they fought a losing battle, because Ardeth was all too aware of his duties as a chieftain.  To use the terminology of the Westerners, Ardeth was the Med-jai king, though he had no riches, and he served even more than the others did.

But sometimes, Altair and Anatol won a victory, as they did when they pushed Ardeth to take this holiday. Abbreviated holiday, Anatol acknowledged as Altair embraced her son, but we shall see what we can do to correct that.   His mother pulled back and said quietly, "You look exhausted, Ardeth.  The business of the Med-jai can wait until you get some rest."  Already, Ardeth was shaking his head, grimacing as he did so.

"I have been away for a week, Mother, there is much I need to do," Ardeth replied.  Anatol rolled his eyes behind his brother's back.  If it weren't for the consequences, Anatol would be sorely tempted to bash his brother upside the head a second time, just to make him rest.  However, that would do no good, and indeed, it would end up making things worse.  Ardeth added, "Will you see to Celia, please?  I am worried for her."

That, Anatol could believe.  There was much whispering among the Med-jai as they watched their chieftain riding back to the encampment after the raid with the American woman in his arms.  It wasn't the first time they had returned with survivors of a raid, rescuing whom they could when the Tuareg decided to attack a caravan.  However, it also wasn't standard for the Med-jai chieftain to carry the survivor with him on his horse.  It was rare indeed for anyone other than Ardeth to ride that horse.

"I will see to this young woman, after I see to my son.  Anatol, you have done well, taking care of him, but it is my turn now," Altair answered.  The young man wasn't so sure he wanted to leave.  The coming battle of wills between his mother and older brother looked to be quite entertaining.  Ardeth was still in chieftain mode, and sometimes, not even their mother could make him snap out of it.  On the other hand. . .

"Mother, please, I know you are afraid for me, but I am all right.  I was not the one who was drugged and rolled inside a carpet, then taken across the desert, nor was I the one who was almost baked to death.  She is badly dehydrated," Ardeth answered with a sigh.  Anatol quietly faded into the shadows of the tent, seeing a familiar expression in his mother's eyes.  She had worn the same one when they returned from Hamunaptra, Ardeth's strength finally failing him as they rode into the encampment.  She had that exact same expression when Ardeth fell off a horse and practically at their mother's feet.

"No, my son. . .you were the one who was struck from behind.  Do not try to hide your pain from me, my Ardeth, I know you better than that.  You are a great chieftain, a loyal friend, and a fine son.  But you must let us take care of you once in a while.  I lost your father, and that was hard enough, even knowing that it would happen someday.  But losing Andreas almost killed me, and I will not go through that again!" their mother retorted.

Another wave of pain crossed his brother's face, one that had nothing to do with being struck from behind.  Altair saw it as well, for she cried out in anguish, "NO!  Oh, no, my son!  I do not wish for you to feel guilty. . .about anything!  You are not at fault for what was done to Andreas or Acacia!  All I want is for you to be healthy and happy, and since being chieftain prevents you from being happy, then all that is left is to make sure you take care of yourself."

Unfortunately, however. . .it seemed that her disagreement with Ardeth had made his headache worse.  Anatol stepped out of the shadows, seeing the way he wavered, then lunged as Ardeth's legs gave way.  Altair grabbed his waist and together, they eased him to the ground, their mother whispering, "I am here, Mama is here, my love.  Anatol, find Garai. . .we'll need his help to get Ardeth to his pallet.  Shhh, just rest, my Ardeth. . .just rest."

Anatol, being the very bright young man he was, released his brother to find Garai. . .or O'Connell, since it seemed that the American was acting almost protective of his brother.  A development which Anatol found very strange, but he would not argue.  He found neither, but Jonathan Carnahan was ambling about, looking rather lost.  Anatol gasped, "Ardeth. . ."  That was all he had to say. . . Carnahan's bright eyes flashed first with concern, then with frustration.
Anatol wasn't about to argue with him. . .he was quite disgusted with his brother!

.                     .                         .

Things had happened very quickly, for the two observers In-Between.  Anck watched in horror as the reincarnation of her forever friend was abducted in broad daylight.  She watched as the Med-jai fought with grim determination, to reach Celia in time. . .only to be knocked unconscious from behind.  And Anck found herself torn. . .the Med-jai had failed to protect Celia, as she foresaw.  But he had been himself injured in the attempt.

It is not finished yet, Anck-su-namun, Mathayus told her, for even now, they make their plans to rescue Celia from her traitor brother.  He has not yet failed her. . .things are playing out as they were meant. Anck made no answer.  But she watched in silence as the Med-jai made their plans and gathered their information.  She listened as O'Connell struggled to set things right with the Med-jai leader.  And she wept as Celia at last remembered that she was, indeed, Lady Ardath. . .friend, sister, mother, concubine.

She saw, too, that Mathayus was right.  Only a mortal day after the abduction in the bazaar, the Med-jai surrounded the kidnappers in the Sahara Desert. . .and Celia was rescued.  The Med-jai leader was true to his word.  Anck both loved him and hated him for that.  For rescuing Celia, and honoring his oath.  She loved him for rescuing her friend. . .and hated him for proving her wrong.

Celia wasn't out of danger yet. . .she was very ill.  And. . .Ardeth Bey wasn't fully recovered from the blow to his head.  She watched with mixed emotions as he crumpled to the ground inside his tent.  His mother and younger brother caught him.  The marks were missing from the face of the mother, as she cradled her second born son in her arms.  Anck almost laughed, hearing the way Altair Bey spoke to her son.  One would have thought he was a boy of five, rather than a man of thirty-three.

He is still her son. . .still the child she struggled to bring into this world.  Still the infant whom all believed would not live to see his first birthday.  You see a man.  She sees her child, Mathayus said.  He paused, then added, Cassandra was the same way.  There are times, when I watch Altair Bey, and I think that she is Cassandra reborn.  Perhaps it is wishful thinking. . .that would make Ardeth Bey my son, in a manner of speaking.

You truly care for him, Anck observed curiously as young Anatol raced from the tent in search of aid.  Mathayus did not speak, but it was not necessary.  Anck continued, Why?  You will never tell me why, just as you never tell me why you are even involved in this situation. Mathayus changed the scene with a wave of his hand, to show Jason Ferguson now confronting Khaldun. . .and losing.

But Anck still saw the boy's soul, pushed deep inside.  She felt chills running up and down her spine, understanding now what had happened.  Somehow, Jason Ferguson had learned that since Ardath's blood bound Khaldun, it was only the blood of her forever friend which could free him.  She didn't understand magic. . .that was always Imhotep's province, not her own.  Nor did she understand how Jason Ferguson would be able to free Khaldun.

Because, like his sister, he is of the same ancestry as your forever friend.  It is not just the bloodline of Ardath, but the Pictish and Hibernian blood which runs through his veins which may free Khaldun.  When your love bound him, he did not specify which blood. . .the bloodline or the blood of a tribe.  Thus, Jason Ferguson may free him. . .because while I cannot see if he shares Ardath's blood line, I can see that he comes from the same tribes, Mathayus answered.

He paused, then continued, And you ask me why.  I have told you.  I seek my own redemption.  Ma'at has provided a second chance for me.  So I seek now to be worthy of that second chance.  As to your other question.  Why I care for that man in the tent.  The question has already been provided to you, had you been listening.  However, you were not.  The answer is, Ardeth Bey is much like I used to be. . . strong and brave.  Honorable.  But Ardeth Bey is also stronger than I was.  Stronger than Rameses was, after your forever friend died.  I allowed my grief and fury to destroy that which Cassandra had loved in me.  That man has lost many people who were important to him. . .but he will not falter.

Both fell silent as the five Med-jai dispatched to Hamunaptra were slaughtered by the evil now inhabiting Jason Ferguson's body.  Khaldun sought to turn them against their chieftain, for sending them to their deaths.  But none would turn, for they had known for many years that such a thing would come to pass.  The Med-jai did not fear death, only the fear of disgracing their people and disappointing their families was real to them.  Thus. . .Khaldun had been awakened, but he had already lost an important battle.

They are loyal to him, Anck whispered, as each Med-jai died, loyal to him, in a way no Med-jai was ever loyal to Seti.  She looked at Mathayus, asking, Why?  Why such loyalty to a man who just collapsed in his own tent?  To a man who is now cradled in his mother's arms, as if he was just a child?  He is not as strong as Imhotep was. Mathayus shook his head, looking disgusted, but Anck could not understand.

They are loyal, foolish little girl, because that 'weak' man takes the same risks they do.  When Ardeth Bey and his Med-jai challenged the Anubis Warriors, it was that 'weak' man who led the charge.  It was quite a magnificent sight, I am told.  He would shed blood for those men, would give his very life. . .and they know it.  He asks nothing of them that he himself would not do, and often takes the most dangerous tasks for himself. . .because he believes it is his duty as their leader, he bit out.

Again, Mathayus shook his head, adding, You say that Ardeth Bey is not as strong as Imhotep.  Again, I say. . .you are wrong.  Imhotep was weak. Anck rounded on him furiously, her long hair whipping about her face, but Mathayus looked less than impressed.  He continued, I speak the truth, foolish little girl.  And you will see. . .see why he is so much stronger. The glint in his eyes should have warned her.  Without even realizing she was doing it, Anck turned back to see the mortal world reflected in the waters.

Mathayus whispered, You see. . .what makes Ardeth Bey strong is that loyalty you saw just a moment ago.  Imhotep commands because he forces people against their will, just as Khaldun does.  Ardeth Bey commands because he demonstrates respect and loyalty to his men.  Ardeth Bey carries the same family name as the Med-jai captain who invoked the hom-dai, three thousand years ago. . .but they are not the same man.

There was a double-edged meaning there, Anck was sure.  Nothing was ever simple with this man.  He had already told her that Ardeth Bey was not of Hamadi Bey's bloodline, and now he was telling her that they weren't the same man. . .did that, then, mean that Ardeth Bey wasn't his reincarnation, either?  Mathayus was truly determined to take every reason Anck had to hate that man from her.  Damn him.  Damn them both. 

And in doing so, you damn yourself.  Possibly Ardath's reincarnation, and all of her bloodline at the same time, Mathayus answered grimly.  He kept saying things like that, kept referring back to Ardath's bloodline, Ardath. . .oh.  Anck looked at her companion, feeling her jaw become unhinged.  She realized for the first time that she had never considered what had happened to Rameses and Ardath's son.  She knew he had been given to the Med-jai after Ardath's murder, but she didn't know what happened after her own death.

He was raised in the desert, Anck-su-namun, after the Med-jai were exiled from Thebes and the hom-dai cast, Mathayus answered, he grew up as a Med-jai.  The first chieftain of the Med-jai, after the death of Shakir Bey. Anck looked at her companion, sensing that he wasn't telling her everything. . .and that he wouldn't tell her everything, either.  She was supposed to figure this out for herself.

But. . .she didn't want to.  Because there was something teasing the back of her mind, something about Shakir Bey and his adopted son.  Something which frightened her badly.  Because if that was true. . .NO!  No, it could not be!  She shook her head wildly, and instead, turned her attention back to the mortals.  She waved her hand, changing the picture to Celia, who was now sleeping in Aleta Bey's tent. . .and tried to ignore the burning eyes behind her.

.                     .                         .

Mathayus was fuming. . .when would he get through to this stubborn girl?  Every so often, he would see a flash of insight in her eyes. . .only to see that flicker quickly disappear.  She was starting to see the truth.  Mathayus could feel that.  Just now, she had almost seen, at the very least, that Ardeth Bey was the descendant of Lady Ardath and Rameses.  But then it was gone, and Mathayus wondered if it would take a catastrophe before she finally accepted the truth.

Again, my child, that is not your responsibility. . .you are doing all that you can.  Anck's desire to. . .as that quaint saying goes. . .bury her head in the sand is no more your responsibility than Jason Ferguson's bad choices are the responsibility of his sister.  True enough. . .the boy sacrificed himself to save her, but in the end, she would have not needed saving, were it not for his bad choices, Ma'at told him.

Mathayus could hardly argue with that logic.  He had found it difficult to watch, Jason Ferguson's sacrifice.  While they now watched Celia Ferguson as Aleta Bey cared for her, Mathayus found it difficult to get Jason's screams of anguish out of his mind as Khaldun was freed and took the boy's body as a host.  He found it difficult to watch as Khaldun/Jason captured, tortured, and then slaughtered the five Med-jai who had rode after him.

Not because of the blood shed. . .that was something to which Mathayus was accustomed.  But even as Khaldun carried out one act of brutality after another, Jason Ferguson's soul remained within his body, trapped and unable to take action against the violator.  Forced to watch as five men died.  It wasn't just his own pain which tormented Jason. . .but the agony suffered by those five valiant men.

And yet. . .Mathayus could not help wondering what would have happened if Celia Ferguson had arrived at the City of the Dead.  He shuddered as Ma'at gave him a mental image of what would have been done, had the Med-jai rescue failed.  Mathayus thanked her for keeping that between the two of them. . .he had no idea if he could have stopped Anck-su-namun from doing something stupid, had that scenario come to pass.

For now, there were other troubles.  Though Anck was now watching over Celia, Mathayus had to check on other things.  Using what had once been the Bracelet of Anubis, now returned to his wrist, Mathayus closed his eyes and concentrated first on a man whose only crime was his resemblance to Imhotep, a crime for which he had died.  Even now, the remaining men loyal to him and to Lock-nah were transporting him from Holland to Egypt.

Their plan was easy to see.  They would bring him to Egypt, to Hamunaptra, and call him forth.  Call his soul back from the Underworld, and everything would start all over again. . .only this time, it would be much, much worse, for these men had allied themselves with a terrible evil of the modern world.  They did not yet know that this foolishness would cost them their lives.  Mathayus could not yet see what would kill them. . .the Med-jai, Imhotep, or Hitler himself.

For Mathayus knew, as Imhotep now understood, that beings such as themselves could not be controlled or used.  There was a part of him which almost wished to see a confrontation between Imhotep and Adolf Hitler.  But they could not chance such a meeting.  That was entirely too dangerous.  And for Mathayus, whose own redemption was tied up in this current situation, any amusement was outweighed by the risks.

And so, those of Lock-nah's men who had survived Ahm Shere for whatever reason. . .perhaps because they were instructed to remain behind and cause as much trouble for the Med-jai in Cairo as possible. . .continued their journey from Holland.  How had they known to find that man?  Mathayus could see none of the answers, and acknowledged that perhaps it was simply good luck on the part of the men in crimson robes.

He was finding it harder and harder, this new position as an observer.  He was not used to simply observing.  He was more accustomed to doing.  But he was powerless right now, powerless and stuck with a companion who was as blind as the day was long.  Mathayus ached to fight once more, to fight along such men as Ardeth Bey and even Rick O'Connell.  Men of honor, whether they thought in such terms or not.

But such were the consequences of his own choices.  He had made his choice, when he appealed to Anubis, but that was just one choice too many.  And now he was paying for that final, terrible choice by being unable to help those who needed his aid.  Ma'at said gently, Your time will come, my child. I know how much it hurts. . .being unable to help those who are becoming important to you.

Mathayus could only nod.  Rather than watch that horrible picture, of the journey from Europe to Egypt, the Scorpion King turned the bracelet off and turned his attention to Anck once more.  She was bloody annoying, but she was still his companion.

She was still watching Celia, and Mathayus had the uncomfortable feeling of being a voyeur.  He had never really thought much about his companion's reaction to Lady Ardath's reincarnation.  But now, he realized just how much both Meela and Anck had missed her.  Mathayus was quite sure that if it was possible, Anck would have reached out to touch the sleeping woman's face.  And more than once, she had tried, only to pull her hand back at the last minute.  Did she fear the consequences to herself or to Celia?

Mathayus didn't know.  He did know that his own opinion of Anck-su-namun was slowly changing.  Perhaps there was hope for her yet.  That wasn't for him to decide, but he found himself hoping that Anck would get a second chance.  It seemed likely that Imhotep would receive another chance at life, and Mathayus, of all people, knew that for some, it was never too late to do the right thing.

Will she be all right, Mathayus? his companion asked softly and Mathayus looked first at Anck, then at Celia.  Quite apart from what he had seen, Mathayus had no doubt that Celia would survive this assault.  She had too much to live for, and she was too bloody stubborn to ever give up.  There was also the matter of her concern for Ardeth Bey.  If Mathayus was any judge of character, and he thought he was a decent judge of character, he was rather certain that Celia would fight back, just to make sure Ardeth was all right.

He smiled almost sadly.  Theirs was a very different story than his own and Cassandra.  But Mathayus, though he was a warrior and assassin, could tell when two people were starting to fall in love with each other.  They were both afraid. . . Ardeth feared that what he could give to Celia wasn't enough; while Celia feared she wasn't strong enough to be the kind of woman which Ardeth needed.  It wasn't trust in each other which they lacked. . .it was trust in themselves.

She will be all right, Anck-su-namun.  She will be all right, because she does not give up.  Because she has two very important reasons to recover. . .her daughter, and Ardeth Bey, Mathayus finally answered.  Anck frowned, and Mathayus explained, She fears for him, because of the attack yesterday.  She will recover, if only to make sure that her daughter is not left alone, and to make sure that he is safe.

Anck still did not understand, and he told her, Celia is wise enough to realize Ardeth Bey blames himself for her capture.  She must recover, to ensure that his guilt does not increase.  Further, she fears for possible complications from the attack.  That was a terrible knock to his head. He had a hard head, but that was beside the point.  The point was, Celia would fight, she had many reasons to fight.

And his explanation served to drive a point home to Anck, something he had been trying to make her see ever since this had begun.  Several times, since she had joined him, Mathayus wondered if she would ever understand what he was trying to tell her.  She said slowly, reluctantly, So. . .they truly are linked, then.  I had not wanted to believe it, but it seems like their recoveries truly are tied to each other.  Mathayus barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes.  Anck continued, And he will recover, because he feels responsible for her. Finally!  She was starting to figure out the most obvious truths!

Truly, Mathayus said, congratulating himself on keeping his patience with her, so, if you wish for your forever friend to recover, then you should pray and make offerings for the well-being of the Med-jai as well, to whichever god or goddess who loves you. If she was wise, that goddess would be Ma'at, but Mathayus had serious doubts about this girl's wisdom.  Not that he had much room to talk.

However, he was learning, and he was finding ways to atone.  He could not directly intervene in mortal affairs. . .at least, he could not yet intervene.  Anck stamped her foot, muttering under her breath about the gods and the Med-jai.  Mathayus hid a grin.  It wouldn't do at all to gloat right now, not when Anck was finally starting to realize that if she wanted Celia Ferguson and her daughter to live through Khaldun's reign of terror, then Ardeth Bey would be needed to protect and defend them.  Still. . .he was vastly amused.

.                      .                       .

Altair Bey was not amused by the turn of events, over the last day.  At the moment, her youngest daughter was in Ardeth's tent, seeing to his head injury, and Altair was here, in Aleta's tent.  True enough, Altair had told her daughter that she would remain with the American woman, the mother of that darling little girl.  But she still wished she was with her son, instead.  This American woman, after all, was nothing to her.

That was bad enough.  What was worse was the way Aleta had looked at her.  As if she didn't trust Altair with the American woman.  That had hurt.  Altair was the first to admit that she could be overprotective of her children.  And fortunately for her, Aleta and Anatol had not come to resent Ardeth and Acacia for her overprotectiveness with them in particular.  Somehow, they understood that because she had come so close to losing them. . .several times, in Ardeth's case.

He wasn't supposed to have seen his first birthday.  His birth had been a difficult one, and took its toll on both mother and child.  But oh, how he fought for his life!  Among the Med-jai, a name once given to Hebrew girls had come to mean strong and courageous, a name for a fighter, because of the woman who once held it.  Lady Ardath.  Altair had been touched by the story of the young girl from faraway, a young girl who reminded Altair of herself.

She had read all the stories associated with her son's namesake, and knew that her second son would be a worthy namesake to the young concubine.  As he grew, Ardeth proved her right. Not only was he a fierce little warrior, even as a child, but he had a gentleness that his older brother lacked.  She loved Andreas, as she loved all of her children, but she hadn't needed Garai's dream to tell her that if Andreas had led the Med-jai during Hamunaptra, it would have ended in disaster for her adopted people.

Even so, she had listened in silence as Garai related his dream after the Elders attempted to shift blame for the events at Hamunaptra.  He, Aric, and Alekos had all spoke for Ardeth while his body struggled to heal from the battle with the mummies inside Hamunaptra.  The Elders had tried to blame Ardeth, blame his soft heart.  But Garai's dream told the truth, and it broke Altair's heart.  Too, it broke her heart that she would feel this gratitude that her second son saved their people, while her first son would have destroyed them in a bid for revenge.

It provided no comfort to her, knowing that Andreas would have attempted to take revenge for the death of his younger brother.  Knowing, as she did and as Garai did, that Ardeth would have died because of his elder brother's foolishness.  That didn't ease the sorrow she felt when she remembered the mental picture of Andreas weeping over his younger brother's body, crying out his desire for revenge.

It was that same foolhardiness which had led to the exile of her husband's people, three thousand years earlier.  Somehow, the foolhardiness of his distant ancestor, Hamadi Bey, had manifested itself in her first son, while the wisdom and practicality of Hamadi's younger brother and successor, Shakir, made itself known in her second.  The son she had named for a foreign concubine.  Her sweet Ardeth, who now lay on blankets on the floor of the tent, unconscious.

While this American woman lay in Aleta's tent.  For a moment, hatred of the girl swept over Altair.  Who was she, to place the life of Altair's son in danger?  How dare she?  Wasn't it bad enough that O'Connell risked Ardeth's life on a regular basis, then blamed her son for the stupidity of his wife and child?  When would her children know peace?  When would Ardeth know happiness, instead of duty and death and grief?

And then, the girl moaned.  She shifted her head from side to side on the pillow, and Altair found herself drawing toward the girl in spite of herself.  The fury Altair had been stoking in her soul, the hatred of this girl, died a quick death as the girl moaned, "Ardeth. . .no.  No, watch out!"  There was a soft whimper of pain and fear, and the small shoulders shook from suppressed sobs.  It was a good sign, in a way, for tears leaked from the corners of Celia's eyes.  But those tears forced Altair's rage to give way to compassion.

Who was she to hate this girl, who cried out a warning to Altair's son in her sleep, who was so frightened for Ardeth's well being?  Altair's anger was washed away by guilt.  She had no right to hate Celia Ferguson.  She wanted to.  Oh, how she wanted to.  But to do so would be to dishonor everything that her husband and her sons believed in.  It would be to dishonor the memories of Suleiman and Andreas, and it would dishonor every action Ardeth had taken to save his people over the last sixteen years.

She touched the face of the young woman, murmuring in English, "Shhh, little one. . .you are safe, as is Ardeth."  Her eyes opened slowly, revealing a hint of hazel.  It was only a hint at first, then more was visible.  Celia Ferguson blinked, focusing on Altair.  Her lips formed a word, but Altair's first priority was to get more water down the girl.  Celia accepted the lukewarm water gratefully, and Altair repeated, "My son is safe. . .as are you.  You must rest, child. . .your body has been through a terrible ordeal."

"Thank. . .you.  My daughter. . .is all right?  Miranda?" Celia whispered and Altair nodded, gently lowering her head back against the pillow.  Celia swallowed, then whispered, "I am so tired.  Sleeping too much."  Altair almost laughed.  Her patient was very impatient, her will was already starting to exert itself, though her body was still recovering.  Still, she smiled very gently and lay her hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Your body has been through much. . .it requires much rest. I am Altair Bey, mother of Ardeth and Anatol.  I have met your daughter, your Miranda.  She is much like my own granddaughter," Altair told the young woman.  She was gifted with a tiny smile.  Altair continued, "And you have met my daughters, Acacia and Aleta.  I have very beautiful children, yes?  Your daughter certainly thinks so."

This time, the smile was a little brighter as Celia answered hoarsely, "My daughter. . .is much wiser than I.  To appreciate Ardeth. . .at such a young age."  Altair threw back her head and laughed, grimacing at the look of pain which crossed the young woman's face.  However, Celia continued, "Ardeth. . .is all right?  They. . . hit him. . .so hard.  I was. . .drugged. . .most of the time.  But. . .that kept. . .playing in my head."

"He will be fine.  His head hurts and he's. . .asleep in his tent.  But he will be fine.  More water. . .you are still dehydrated," Altair said firmly.  Celia nodded sleepily, her body already starting to shut down once more.  She accepted a little more water, murmuring something under her breath.  Altair swallowed hard when she realized what the girl was saying.  Something about Ardeth risking his life to come after her.  This girl, at least, appreciated what her son gave.

She repeated, "He will be fine. . .my son has been hurt worse.  And fortunately, he has a hard head."  That provoked a sleepy smile, then Celia's eyes slid closed.  Her head lolled to one side and her breathing evened out as she drifted off to sleep.  Altair rocked back on her heels.  She was used to young woman falling all over her son. . .in the first place, her own maternal bias aside, Ardeth was a very handsome young man.  He was also a young man with a great deal of authority within the twelve tribes.

It was unfair to say, as her daughters did, that all the young women who made a bid to become the chieftain's wife were interested only in Ardeth's prestige and authority.  It wasn't entirely true.  But many of them spent more time talking about the things they could do as Ardeth's wife than how they could make him happy.  Mother of a chieftain, wife of a chieftain, Altair knew about the demands of the job.  And she knew none of those women could handle being second on the priority list.

The women who could have handled being second, were already spoken for, or in love with other men.  They were either themselves daughters of commanders or women who saw the truths of the chieftain's life.  Either way. . .they were not available to her son, or did not love him in that way.  Altair had confided to Garai only a few years earlier that she feared Ardeth's happiness would lie outside the Med-jai, in either a woman of another nation. . .or an outsider from the West.  But even that would not be a guarantee, because people were people, and Altair feared that even an outsider would care more for her son's power than for his heart.

She was an outsider herself. . .a Greek woman, who had been traveling with her family through Egypt.  But the life of an outsider was not an easy one within the Med-jai.  Too many expected the Med-jai to change to suit them.  Had no respect or interest in the traditions of the Med-jai, and the reason for those traditions.  She found it easier, that seventeen year old Altair, because she had just lost her entire family. . .and in the Med-jai, she found a new family.

She did not know if this girl now in her daughter's tent was capable of making her son happy, or if she would be another like O'Connell.  Demanding that Ardeth jump through hoops, as the saying went, to prove his loyalty.  His love.  Altair's eyes narrowed.  As a mother, she understood O'Connell and his desire to rescue his son, at all costs.  But as a mother, that did not mean she had to like a man who risked the life of her child so easily, even as he scoffed at their beliefs.  When her daughter returned. . .she would speak with O'Connell.  It was time certain things were settled. . .long past time.

.                      .                               .

Six hours had passed since the Med-jai involved in the raid returned to the encampment, and Evy had heard nothing about Celia's condition.  Jonathan had finally gone for word about thirty minutes earlier, leaving Miranda with Evy, Alex, and Rick.  The little girl was very quiet. . .very worried about her mother, and about Ardeth, despite Rick's repeated claims that he was fine.  Miranda didn't seem too terribly convinced, and Evy wondered if she should remind her husband that children were smarter than they were given credit.

She was on the point of doing so when Jonathan returned to the tent, looking very exasperated.  He said, "Ardeth collapsed in his tent, the stupid fool. . .after all the commanders left.  Anatol needed help to get him. . .situated.  They decided to make a bed for him on the ground.  He prefers to sleep like that, y'see, he's more comfortable.  Celia is recovering. . .Aleta thinks she'll be fine."

Rick muttered a few uncomplimentary phrases about their Med-jai friend under his breath, and Miranda flew at him, screaming angrily, "Don't you say that 'bout him!  Ardeth saved my mommy!"  Evy's very surprised husband barely managed to grab Miranda's small fists. . .not that she could have done much damage. . .and wrapped her in a bear hug.  That didn't keep Miranda from struggling and screaming, "You take that back!"

"Rick, give her to me," Evy commanded, reaching for the little girl.  Rick carefully handed the child over, and Evy managed to dodge Miranda's flailing arms.  As soon as Miranda was safely in Evy's arms, she collapsed, sobbing.  The little girl, it seemed, had had enough, and Evy cursed herself for not thinking about how difficult this was for Miranda.

She whispered, rocking the little girl back and forth, "Shhh. . .it's all right, little one.  Rick didn't mean it like that. . .he just says it because he's worried about Ardeth.  Just like all of us.  We know that Ardeth saved your mum.  Shh, it's okay, sweeting.  When your mum's a little stronger, we'll take you to see her, all right?  But right now, she needs to rest. . .and so does Ardeth.  He did get hurt when your mum was kidnapped, and he needs to recover."

Rick put his hand tentatively on Miranda's small back, saying softly, "Aunt Evy's right, baby girl.  I didn't mean to upset you. . .Ardeth's important to all of us.  It's just that sometimes I get mad at him, and I don't think."  Miranda's face remained firmly buried against Evy's shoulder, and Rick tried again, "I know you're scared for Mommy and Ardeth, but they'll be just fine.  They need to recover, but they'll be fine.  And now, we'll have time for them to recover."

"Oh.  I see.  The infamous O'Connell double standard strikes again.  It is all right for my son to put his well-being second when it comes to your son. . .but not when it comes to that child's mother.  Do I have the right of it, Mr. O'Connell?" a quiet voice asked from the doorway to the tent. . .in French.  Rick stiffened, then both he and Evy looked over at the newcomer.  Altair Bey.  Obviously, not wanting to upset the little girl now in Evy's arms, she had chosen to address him in a language which he knew. . .and Miranda didn't.

Rick slowly rose to his feet, answering her in the same language, "My son is a little boy.  Celia is a grown woman."  Miranda shifted uneasily in Evy's arms, her dark eyes moving from Rick to Ardeth's mother, then back again.  Evy drew Miranda closer, silently pleading with the two opponents to take it outside, before they upset the children.  Alex could understand French, but Miranda could understand body language.

"Celia Ferguson is the mother of a four year old child, who still needs her.  Be honest, Mr. O'Connell.  You are only interested in having my son around when it suits your needs.  You care nothing about him. . .or about my people.  You are not his friend. . .you do not know how to be a friend.  Perhaps this is not your fault.  But it is time you understood something.  I will protect all four of my children with my dying breath.  And that includes the chieftain of our tribes.  Ardeth is a grown man. . .but he is still my son," Altair answered.

"That's not true!  We care about Ardeth!" Alex blurted out in English.  Altair's head snapped around to look at Evy's son.  Alex quailed a little, but continued, "We care about Ardeth, too!  He saved my mum, and he saved me, and you can't say we don't love him, too!"  There wasn't a 'so there' spoken at the end of Alex's outburst, but it was there, nonetheless.  Evy heard it.  As did Altair Bey.

Once more in French, the woman said, "I have no doubt, little Alexander, that you do care for my son.  As does your mother. . .and your uncle.  I have seen for myself that you care for my Ardeth.  But your father is quite incapable of caring about anyone other than you and your mother.  Ask him, little one.  Ask him if he would bother saving my son, if there was not also a threat to you and your mother.  As for his oft-repeated assertion that there is always trouble afoot when my son is around. . .he has never stopped to consider that the reason my son is around when trouble is afoot because he is seeking to save your father's stubborn Yankee ass!"

Evy blinked at Altair's coarse language, but couldn't argue with her points.  That
was the case in London.  Ardeth had not led those men to their house. . .he had followed them, and tried to protect her and Alex.  Through the last several days, Evy had grown more and more aware that while they had earned Ardeth's respect, there were many among his warriors who didn't share that respect for Rick in particular.

Rick. . .Rick was staring at the Med-jai matriarch in shock.  In all the years Evy had been with her husband, rare was the time when he was at a loss for words.  This was one of those times.  Altair Bey smiled grimly and asked mockingly, "Not used to people calling you on your behavior, are you, Mr. O'Connell?  Not accustomed to being held accountable for what you do and say?  With friends like you, my son needs no enemies!"

She slowly and deliberately turned her attention away from Rick.  She was turning toward Miranda, and Evy was shocked to see the woman's face completely change.  Gone was the avenging-angel mother, seeking to protect her child. . .and in her place was a loving grandmother.  Altair Bey said in English with a gentle smile, "I apologize if I frightened you, little one.  Would you like to see your mama now?"

"Can I?" Miranda breathed, and Altair nodded with a sweet smile.  Evy released the little girl, who ran to Altair.  The matriarch swung her into her arms, that smile brightening further.  Miranda said, "And after I see Mommy, can I see Ardeth?  I been really, really worried about him!"  Evy noticed the lapse in grammar, even if no one else did.  Early in Celia and Miranda's visit, Evy had noticed the lack of baby talk from the four year old.

Celia hadn't known what she meant, until Evy explained herself. . .and then Celia explained she was never raised with baby talk.  She was taught to speak properly from a very early age, by her parents as well as her grandmother.  The only times when Celia. . .and now her daughter. . .ever lapsed into grammar that sounded like pidgin English, was when she was too worried to think about the proper conjugation.

"Of course you may, little one. . .and then you shall go back and tell your mama.  I think she is very worried for my son as well. Each time she awakens, she asks about him.  Perhaps when she is stronger, we will take her to see him, what do you think?" Altair asked.  Miranda needed very little time to consider this.  She bobbed her head wildly, and Altair gave her a little hug as they departed from the tent.

There was silence in the wake of their departure.  Rick was still staring at where Altair had been standing only a few minutes earlier.  Evy rose to her feet and went to her husband, saying softly, "Sit down, honey.  She was reacting as any parent would to a perceived threat to her child.  How many times, while we were tracking Imhotep, did Ardeth almost lose his life?  Try to look at it from her point of view."

"I. . .am.  I. . .think about how I would feel.  If someone. . .if Alex. . .why does he do this, then?  Why does he just accept. . .?" Rick asked, unable to finish his sentence.  Over the last week, he had slowly begun to realize that they could be better friends to Ardeth. 

But until now, he hadn't been blatantly confronted with it, and now Rick didn't know how to react.  Evy rubbed his shoulder, answering softly, "Because, m'love, he knows the truth.  He knows why you lash out at him, and knows that despite the hurt it does cause him. . .it isn't really personal.  And Ardeth, for all his skills as a warrior. . .has such a gentle, tender heart.  That's why he accepts it from us.  Because out of all the people he knows, we're among the few who accept him simply as a man."

"No," Rick corrected dully, "I expect more from him.  When I lost you, at Ahm Shere. . .I looked around for Ardeth.  So he could make it right, so he could bring you back to me, back to us.  I always expect him to be there for me, sometimes at the cost of his own people.  For us, and when he is there. . .without me asking. . .I lash out at him.  Hell, half the time I don't even consider him human!"

Evy knew that wasn't true.  She had seen the concern in Rick's eyes when he asked Ardeth if he was all right in London, on the double-decker bus, after the pair had rescued her.  She knew Rick cared for Ardeth, and she was willing to bet that Altair knew that as well.  But Evy also had to see things through Altair's eyes.  To the matriarch, it probably did seem like the O'Connell family used her son, then discarded him when they didn't need him any longer.

Unfortunately, this would not be the final confrontation between the Med-jai and her husband, because Rick would struggle for a time between his first instinct. . . protecting her and Alex. . .and his understanding that they couldn't run from whom they were, or the consequences of what they had done.  Perhaps that struggle would take a long time.  The only thing Evy knew for certain was that she could not fail her brothers, or her husband.  They all needed her, and she would not let them down again.

.                     .                        .

Chills invaded her sleep, drawing her back to consciousness against her will at first.  At least, it was against her will until she heard the voices.  And a name.  If she concentrated. . .was that a child's voice?  Yes.  Whose child?  She vaguely remembered hearing two children in the tent when she was first brought here, cradled against the chest of one of the Med-jai from Rick and Evy's house.  Garai.

"Altair, I think Mommy's trying to wake up!" an excited little voice said, and that provided the impetus Celia needed to open her eyes.  Miranda.  Miranda was here.  After a few tries, she finally managed to force her eyelids apart.  She didn't see her daughter at first. . .the dehydration and the drugs used to sedate her had taken their toll, and she found it difficult to focus her eyes once more.  And then she saw her daughter's face.

"Miranda," she breathed.  Celia attempted to raise her hand from the pallet where she slept, and was pleased to find that she could do that.  Miranda immediately captured her hand and drew it to her small cheek.  Celia whispered, "Oh, baby. . .I'm so sorry."  Miranda crawled up onto the pallet beside her, and the young woman wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her as tightly as her limited strength would allow.

"It wasn't your fault, Mommy. . .Uncle Jason was bad.  He hurt you, and he hurt Ardeth.  I hate him, Mommy!  I know I'm not supposed to, but I hate him!" Miranda replied, burying her face against Celia's shoulder.  The mother did and said nothing to reprimand the child.  Miranda was only four years old. . .and right now, Celia wasn't particularly fond of her younger brother, either.  Yes, he had freed her. . .but if not for him, she would have never been in that position.

"It's okay, sweetheart. . .but you're fine, I'm gonna be fine, and so will Ardeth.  I bet you've been a very good girl, haven't you?" Celia asked softly.  Miranda shook her head against her shoulder, and Celia asked, "You haven't?  What do you mean?"  The little girl raised her head from her shoulder, tears starting to streak her face, and Celia tried to wipe away the moisture.  Unfortunately, her hands would only cooperate so much.

"I yelled at Mr. O'Connell.  I was mad at him, for saying bad things about Ardeth," Miranda replied.  Celia raised her eyebrows at the woman who sat beside the pallet.  Celia vaguely remembered her. . .wasn't she here earlier?  The woman just smiled at her quietly, and a hazy memory rose up.  She wasn't either of the women who had taken care of her initially, who had changed her clothes for her. . . and Celia was still too weak to even think about feeling embarrassed about that.

She was older. . .yes.  Ardeth's mother.  The woman said, "Your daughter was quite put out with Mr. O'Connell, for inferring that my son should not have pursued your kidnappers, in light of his own injury."  It took Celia a moment to find her way around that minefield of words, then she understood.  Altair. . .Celia had now remembered her name. . .shrugged and added, "My son makes his own decisions.  I may not like those decisions, but I will stand by them."  She grinned almost impishly, saying, "As you will find out, as your daughter gets older."

"Is that why you're mad at Mr. O'Connell, too?  'Cause he said bad things about Ardeth?" Miranda asked, raising her head to look at the Med-jai woman.  Celia blinked, trying desperately to catch up with this conversation.  Maybe the dehydration had mixed up her brain. . .or maybe the heat had baked it, because she was having one helluva time, trying to figure out what her daughter was talking about.

Or. . .maybe not.  A quick glance at their. . .companion. . .told Celia that Altair Bey knew exactly what Miranda meant.  The older woman replied, "No, little one. . .I was angry with him for other reasons.  Or perhaps I should say. . .more reasons than that one."  Celia decided she wouldn't even try to figure that out.  She had become aware of strange. . .tensions between the Med-jai and Rick O'Connell in the time she had spent within the O'Connell house, and then there was the conversation they had in the bazaar just before her kidnapping.  It almost sounded like O'Connell was. . . warning her.

"I was merely warning him, little one, that he should not take my son's friendship for granted," the other woman said unexpectedly.  The phraseology was so close to what Celia had been thinking, the American woman again had to blink in surprise.  Altair Bey said, "There are times, Miranda, when Mr. O'Connell thinks that his wishes are more important than my son's duties, as the chieftain of the Med-jai.  I was reminding him that the world does not revolve around him."  Okay, this conversation was getting a little uncomfortable!

Celia found herself in the uncomfortable position of being betwixt and between.  After all, Rick O'Connell had helped Ardeth to rescue her.  And he had told her, in the beginning, that while she was under his roof, she was part of his family.  And. . .then there was Ardeth.  Altair Bey smiled apologetically, saying, "My apologies. . .there are times when I am overprotective of my son.  Much to his embarrassment."

Celia smiled and kissed the side of her daughter's head.  She opted not to say anything about her own. . .reactions to Ardeth.  Not to Ardeth's mother, at least.  Because then the woman would get the wrong idea about her. . .and that was something she just didn't need right now.  Right now, she needed to hold her daughter and remember how lucky she was to be alive.  She didn't have the strength to do anything else.

Except wonder what had changed her younger brother's mind.  Why had Jason decided to cut her loose, when the Med-jai arrived, and allow them to rescue her?  She dimly remembered hearing a conversation between Ardeth and Rick on the way to the camp. . .something about the five riders sent to Hamunaptra after Jason.  But Celia really wasn't paying much attention at the time, as she was exhausted and content to just curl up against Ardeth's strong body.

Even though he wasn't as strong as she first thought.  She hadn't known at the time that he was struggling against a terrible headache.  She only knew that his arms around her were strong and protective, and during that ride, Celia had felt like nothing in the world could possibly hurt her.  She felt safe. . .protected. . .sheltered.  'Loved' was going a bit further than Celia was ready to go, but for a woman who had only one person looking out for her for most of her life. . .namely her grandmother. . . feeling safe was saying a lot.

And he made her daughter feel safe.  That said even more.  She had done a terrible job of protecting her little girl, when it came right down to it.  Things should have never gotten this far with Jason.  Celia tightened her grasp on her child, feeling Miranda's arms tighten around her in response, and Altair asked softly, "Something troubles you, child?"  The American woman looked up, both at the question and at being called 'child.'  On the other hand, this woman had at least two children older than Celia, so. . .

"I was just thinking. . .I haven't done a very good job of taking care of Miranda.  Of protecting her. . .making her feel safe.  Ardeth makes her feel safe. . .and her own uncle frightens her.  This situation with my brother. . .it should have never come to this.  My daughter is afraid of my brother. . ." Celia began, shaking her head helplessly.  She wasn't even sure why she was telling this woman any of this.  Miranda's head popped up from her shoulder, and she shook her head almost desperately.

But it was Altair who replied, "My dear girl. . .you had no way of knowing that your brother would betray you!  Let me tell you something.  Seven years ago, events nearly took a catastrophic turn for my people, and there were many who blamed my son.  Some said that if my oldest son, Andreas, was still alive, it would have never happened.  In a manner of speaking, they were right.  Things would have been much, much worse."

Celia wondered if this had anything to do with what Evy had told her, about a victim of the hom-dai rising.  She didn't ask, however, and the woman continued, "In a dream, one of the Med-jai warriors learned the truth.  If my elder son had lived, then my entire people would have been wiped out. . .every man, woman, and child.  And a terrible evil would have risen over this earth.  And I wondered to myself. . .what had I done wrong, for my first born son to do such a terrible thing, that would lead to the destruction of our people?"

Celia was at a total and complete loss.  She didn't know exactly what happened seven years earlier, or what would have happened, if Andreas Bey hadn't died.  Nor did she know what to say.  She didn't know if there was anything she could say, in such a situation.  Altair shook her head and said softly, "People make choices, dear child.  A mother and father can raise their child to the best of their abilities. . .and that child will still make bad choices.  You are not to blame for what your brother did wrong.  No harm came to your child because of any decision you made.  You did not fail to protect her."

"But I don't make her feel safe," Celia countered.  Altair merely shook her head, smiling ever so slightly.  She was looking more at Miranda than she was at Celia, and the young woman turned her attention to her daughter.  Miranda was still vehemently shaking her head, and Celia whispered, "C'mon, baby. . .I know your uncle Jason scares you!  And if I were a better mother, then you wouldn't be afraid of him."

"Uh-uh!  You're a good mommy!  Uncle Jason is the one who is bad!  Altair, tell her!  Tell Mommy that she's good!" Miranda retorted, before burying her face against Celia's shoulder once more.  Celia just blinked, her head starting to hurt from all her exertion during the last few minutes.  It was silly, of course, since she hadn't been doing anything besides talking since she woke up, but she supposed her body was still healing.

"You already have, little one. . .Miss Ferguson.   Your daughter does feel safe with you.  Just as she feels safe with my son.  You can only protect Miranda so much, there is only so much which you can do.  And you have done that.  Your first words when you woke up were for her, to make sure she was all right.  And now, you must rest. . .I know you still aren't feeling well.  Miranda, stay with your mama. . .I think she would feel better if you were here," Altair replied.  Celia didn't have the strength to argue.  She allowed her head to drop and closed her eyes.  She only intended to doze. . .but in a matter of breaths, she was asleep once more.