Darren Craske - The Eleventh Plague

In the flatlands surrounding the Hawass Mountains, Aksak Faroud lifted his hand to his forehead to check the sun's position. He had been waiting for some time, and if there was one thing he loathed, it was being kept waiting. By his side, sat astride horses just as he was, two of the Aksak's fellow Clan Scarabs waited with him.

Eventually, their wait was over.

A wisp of dust was growing on the horizon, and heading in their direction.

'Wait here, my brothers. I shall not be long,' Faroud said, dismounting his horse. The two Scarabs glanced nervously at each other, and their hands darted to the hilts of their swords. Faroud waved a calming hand. 'Stand down. But be on your guard…this man can be a little slippery.'

The Scarabs relaxed at their leader's words, and let their hands fall from their weapons. Even so, they kept their beady eyes pinpointed on the approaching horse-drawn cart carrying the figure of Godfrey Joyce.

'Stop here!' he commanded his driver. 'My arse will be red raw from all this bloody travelling today. Twice in one day, Aksak? People will start to talk.'

'You sent word for me?' asked Faroud.

'Indeed I did, Aksak,' said Joyce. 'Something important has arisen.'

'Can I hope that now your business with the Hades Consortium is complete, you have news of my brother?' asked Faroud.

'Straight to business, eh? I don't blame you, this damn heat will be the death of me!' said Joyce. 'Sorry, but I've heard nothing new. We must be patient, I told you that. I am doing what I can, but you must realise that securing your brother's freedom is not easy. He did attempt to rob the British Embassy of several expensive items, after all…not to mention almost killing two of the guards in the process. I will do all I can to spare his life, but until that day do not forget that you are indebted to me.'

Faroud ground his teeth. 'I do not…cannot…forget that. But I do not understand. If you did not ask me here to provide me with news of Rakmun's release, what do you want?'

Joyce clapped his hands together. 'I have another job for you.'

'Another? But I collected the delivery from Al Fekesh as you commanded! What next must I do to secure my brother's release? When will these little "jobs" of yours come to an end?'

'You must understand, Aksak – greasing the political wheels takes time. Whilst I'm doing everything I can, I'm afraid there are a few things that have cropped up to distract my attention…such as a female archaeologist digging in Umkaza. If left unchecked, that woman might well stir up a bit of a sandstorm out there in the desert.'

'What trouble could an archaeologist cause?' asked Faroud.

Joyce pursed his lips, battling to restrain a grin. 'I have a few skeletons in my closet, you might say…and I have no wish for them to be unearthed.'

'So who is this woman?'

'Professor Pollyanna North,' replied Joyce. 'She happens to be one of England's most eminent archaeologists, and a ruthless campaigner for the acquisition and restoration of Egyptian antiquities. She's carved a little niche for herself out here since discovering the fabled Sceptre of Osiris in '49, and she fought hard for it to remain on display in Cairo's Museum of Antiquities. Her devotion to her trade has attracted a fair amount of attention back home, most notably from Her Majesty Queen Victoria herself. The Queen does adore such women of substance!'

'Once again I ask…what harm can this woman cause?' asked Faroud.

'Professor North must not be allowed to draw unwanted attention to my business,' said Joyce. 'Not right now. Not when the Hades Consortium is camped out on my doorstep! I want you to take your band of Scarabs and pay her a visit.'

'That is a lot of men to kill one archaeologist,' Faroud noted.

'Christ, I don't want her killed, man!' Joyce laughed, rising up on tiptoes to grasp Faroud's bony shoulders with both hands. 'I just need her scared…scared enough to want to pack up her crew and get the hell out of Umkaza. She might be a pain in the backside, but she is a very well connected one. If she were to die out here, we'd have a British regiment arriving within the week!'

Faroud stroked his beard restlessly. 'Those who come to steal my country's past from under our very feet, they do not deserve the Scarabs' mercy!'

'Ah, but the trouble is, Aksak, your government disagrees with you!' Joyce snapped. 'The revenue that Egypt earns from Great Britain on these little archaeological shindigs pays for much of the splendour you see in the capital, not to mention the Pasha's many beautiful sailing crafts. This country of yours has got more than enough treasure to share around.'

'But we Egyptians are proud of our heritage!' Faroud snapped back, causing his two Scarab companions to tense their muscles. 'Proud of what we have achieved in the past, and proud of what we have become! Surely my government would not sit idly by as our lands are looted by outlanders?'

Godfrey Joyce chuckled to himself. 'You natives really have no idea as to how deep the roots go beneath the earth, do you? A country's borders are nothing any more. There was a time when the world was small. Everyone was fenced in, and everyone knew their place. Borders were respected. But now the world is a free for all. It's a marketplace of commerce, nothing more. So I wouldn't waste my energy being loyal towards this country of yours, Faroud – because it's certainly not loyal towards you!'

Faroud nodded submissively. 'For my brother's sake, I will do this one last thing that you ask. I will order my Scarabs to attack Umkaza at once…but not my entire band. I will take but a dozen men. That is my decision.'

'Accepted,' said Joyce. 'But remember…the Professor is not to be harmed. Not so much as a chipped fingernail. If she was to be hurt out here, as attache, my government would ask questions of me, and that would serve neither yours nor your brother's best interests, understand?'

Faroud bowed low. 'I understand.'

The Bizarre Bazaar

MADAME DESTINE SAID goodbye to Alexandria's brother as he gently steered his cart down the road. It was only when she lifted her hand to wave that she noticed something was missing. She snatched at her wrist frantically. Her bracelet was gone. A piercing whistle caught her attention, and she looked up to see Joran jeering at her from the end of the road – with her jewellery in his hand.

'Magpie!' she fumed, squeezing the handle of her parasol in frustration.

She surveyed her location. A towering stone archway served as the main entranceway to Agra Bazaar. The noise beyond it was tremendous, as if the walls had imprisoned all the sights, sounds and smells of the bazaar within and they were bursting at the seams.

Destine was drawn irresistibly inside.

Agra Bazaar was a bustling jungle of scattered shops and stalls situated within a labyrinth of twisting alleyways and narrow lanes, culminating in one vast, sprawling marketplace in the centre of the city. The bazaar's reputation maintained that it sold everything and anything that a person could wish for, and it was a proud boast that the city did its best to live up to. Its origins as Egypt's centre point for trade began centuries past with caravans arriving from the Asian continent bringing spices, silks and other luxurious goods such as gemstones, precious metals and tapestries. Soon after, Europe began extending its seafaring conquests in search of warm water ports and they brought with them an increase in trade. Agra Bazaar's revenue blossomed, and despite the fact that it was positioned at least an hour's journey from the main port, it managed to thrive beyond all expectations. There were no homes left in Agra any more – it was a district populated solely by businesses small and large.