Darren Craske - The Eleventh Plague

'Is that why you ran away to the circus? To learn how to do it properly?' asked Alexandria. 'Perhaps you would do better cleaning up after the elephants.'

'I didn't run away to join the circus, Alex! As well as being its resident conjuror, I happen to own the bloody thing – and for your information, we don't have any elephants. Besides a tiger, we've no wild animals at all…unless you include a pair of sour-tempered clowns.'

'You own a circus?' Alexandria smirked. 'You of all people?'

'And what's that supposed to mean?'

Alexandria bit her lip. 'Can I be frank?'

'Are you ever anything but?' squawked Quaint.

'You are not exactly famed for your sense of humour,' said Alexandria, watching Quaint's face fall. 'I cannot imagine that any circus run by an old grump like you would be very entertaining for the audience.'

'Madam, you offend me!' said Quaint brusquely – and he was telling the truth. 'My circus is fantastic! We take a great pride in our shows. We've got feats of strength and skill that would amaze you, marvellous acrobatic displays and hilarious clown escapades – what more could you want? "Dr Marvello's Travelling Circus is a cornucopia of the strange and the fanciful," they say. Even royalty loves us! Did you know that after the Great Exhibition in Hyde Park, I was personally contacted by Prince Albert himself, requesting me to perform for Queen Victoria's birthday?'

'Someone else not famed for her sense of humour,' chimed in Alexandria.

'Bah!' snapped Quaint, turning on his heel.

Alexandria laughed even more at that. 'I am sorry, Cornelius, I was just teasing you,' she said, pulling him back by the crook of his arm. 'The look on your face is irresistible! I am sure you do an admirable job running your circus, I really am, and I am sure your performers are highly skilled. Tell me, do you wear a long red coat?'

'That's a ringmaster…and no, I don't,' growled Quaint.

'Good, because you always looked awful in red,' Alexandria said, sliding off the bench. 'So…how long are you here for on this business of yours?'

'That depends.' Quaint's face turned a shade darker as his true motives for his visit drove back into focus. 'We on a bit of a tight schedule. We only have until New Year's Eve.'

'We?' enquired Alexandria.

Her face fell, and she did not attempt to conceal her disappointment.

'I'm here with Madame Destine,' Quaint explained. 'You remember her – the French governess that I used to speak of. The woman who practically raised me?'

'The one who pretended she could see the future?' asked Alexandria.

Quaint scowled. 'She can see the future!'

'Of course…and I can whistle underwater,' said Alexandria.

'It's true! Well, at least it used to be true…she seems to be having a little trouble in that department recently, but that's another story.'

'Cornelius, I cannot believe that you brought your governess all this way with you! Is that why you are dressed so staidly? Does she still pick out your clothes each day and lay them on your bed for you?' mocked Alexandria.

'Don't be ridiculous!' Quaint said, quickly occupying his eyes around the room. The woman was uncannily (and embarrassingly) accurate, but he was not about to admit that to her and face yet more ribbing. 'On the matter that has brought me to Egypt, I needed someone whose counsel I revere above all others…which is why Destine is here with me. But some things require another's perspective. That's why I came to see you. I need your help, Alex.'

'My help? Cornelius, it has been thirteen years and finally you return, yet not for the reason that I would have preferred,' said Alexandria, a hint of resentment buoying every word. 'Whatever it is, it must be of great importance.'

'It is,' Quaint said, taking a deep breath before ploughing ahead. 'You see, a diabolical organisation called the Hades Consortium plans to deposit a deadly poison into the River Nile sometime very soon. That's why I'm here – to stop it from happening! So now that you know…what do you think?'

The look on Alexandria's face did not bode well. 'What do I think?' she screeched, her voice skirting dangerously close to hysterics. 'I think that the Egyptian sun has gone to your head! What utter madness is this? You stroll back into my shop – back into my life – and expect me to believe that someone is going to poison the Nile?'

'Alex, please keep your voice down.' Quaint pushed his finger against her lips.

Alexandria slapped it away, and then slapped him.

'Ow!' Quaint said, rubbing his jaw. 'I think you loosened one of my teeth.'

'That is not the only thing loose around here! You must think me a fool, Cornelius. Poisoning the Nile? I have never heard of anything so absurd! And I suppose you have proof of this?'

Sadly, Quaint could offer nothing but a charming smile.

'I knew it! Same old Cornelius Quaint!'

'Alex, I'm serious, listen to me. When have I ever-'

'Shush!' Alexandria interrupted, brandishing her finger like a weapon.

'What?' interjected Quaint.

'I know what you are about to say…so shush!'

'What, do you read minds now?'

'You were about to say "When have I ever lied to you?"'

'Ah.' Quaint winced. 'Well, it's true! When have I ever-?'

'Have you forgotten how you left things between us?' interrupted Alexandria. 'You left me without so much as a kiss. No letter of explanation, no warning – nothing! It was almost a month before you wrote to explain why you had to go.'

'Okay, I admit that one time…but this is totally different,' Quaint said, hoping to recapture Alexandria's trust – not that he had much of it to begin with. 'This plot is real, whether you believe me or not…and it is going to continue to be real unless I do something to stop it! I'm not making this up, Alex, I swear. You have my word.'

'And you think that is something I have come to trust?' asked Alexandria.

'Alex…don't make this about you and me. I know how we left things all those years ago. There was a lot that I should have said…and probably a lot more that I should not have said, but I am begging you…help me.'

'What help could I possibly give you?' Alexandria asked.

Quaint held his tongue for a second, cementing his focus.

'The Hades Consortium is well connected, but they couldn't pull off a plot this big alone. I know how this country operates. They'd need someone local, someone doing the legwork, pulling the strings – someone with no love of Egypt! Look, I'm guessing, all right? I'm out of my depth here, Alex, I admit that. But you…you know people. You hear things. Gossip…rumours…boasts. Maybe you overheard something and didn't know what it was. Anything could be important!'

Alexandria turned her back to him. He was devilishly charming, of course. He always was. If she was honest, she did not need any evidence of this dastardly plot. One look in those all-consuming, jet-black eyes of his was evidence enough.

'All right, Cornelius,' she said eventually, 'maybe there is someone that might be able to tell you something. You can tell me more about how exactly you got involved in this plot on the way.'

'Thank you,' Quaint said. 'Wait. On the way? On the way where?'

The Pain in the Backside

SIMILAR IN THEIR own way to the Hades Consortium – albeit far more crude – the desert thieves known as the Clan Scarabs lived an embittered existence scattered throughout the outlying regions of Egypt, splintered into nine separate clans, each under the control of district leaders called 'Aksaks'. Each region reported to an Aksak, with a higher Council of Elders overseeing all decisions. Thievery, violence, intimidation and murder were the craft of the Scarabs, and they employed a variety of tools to get the job done. Wrapped in tattered rags from head to foot, the bindings sheltered them from the harsh desert winds. Like wild, demonic wraiths, they spread terror wherever they went.