Darren Craske - The Eleventh Plague

Sobek came over, clamping his hand onto Quaint's shoulder.

'Well, my friend, we did it!' he cheered. 'My men and I dispersed to every location. We found Nastasi's Scarabs and defeated them soundly. They never knew what hit them! Many of them had questioned Nastasi's ploy and turned away from him, so blood did not always need to be spilled. Once the balance shifted in our favour, we managed to defeat the Hades Consortium troops as a united clan.'

'And the poison?' asked Quaint.

'All the vials were destroyed,' said Sobek. He gave Quaint's ribs a nudge. 'Not bad for a bunch of thieves, eh?'

Quaint smiled. 'And what of Nastasi? I can't imagine the council will be too thrilled at his failure.'

'The Council of Elders knew nothing about it!' replied Sobek. 'It was all a ruse on Nastasi's part. He claimed to have the council's backing when he rode into Bara Mephista…but when I contacted them, they had no knowledge of such an order. They will deal with Nastasi in their own way…and it will neither be pleasant nor painless – of that you can be sure.'

'So what next? Do I call you Aksak Sobek?' smiled Quaint.

'I await the council's decision…but Rakmun appealed for me and as the former Aksak's kin, that goes a long way,' Sobek said, staring out into the desert flatlands. 'Maybe we Clan Scarabs have outgrown the old ways. None of us are young men any more…and few of us have families or loved ones to speak of. Perhaps it is time that we considered the future. Your influence no doubt, eh?' he said with a heavy slap on Quaint's back.

Rakmun strolled out of the scorched tavern and joined them. The young Scarab caught Sobek's eye and the larger man understood, making his way back into the tavern with a nod. Quaint turned to Rakmun, an expectant smile on his face.

'My brother, Cornelius…he sacrificed so much to save me from Godfrey Joyce's prison…and I never even got the chance to say thank you,' began the young Scarab. 'Many times I thought that help would not come. That I would die down there in that stinking cell and no one would even know. And then I would think of Faroud and I knew he would come for me. He should have known that he was risking everything by trying to free me. Yet it did not stop him.'

'Your brother was one of the most courageous men I have ever known, Rakmun. It was an honour to fight by his side,' said Quaint.

'I shall miss him, Cornelius.'

'As will I, Rakmun…as will I.'

'And now what of you?' asked Rakmun. 'I hear you are leaving.'

Quaint nodded. 'For Cairo, straight away.'

'I cannot convince you to stay and enjoy the revelry?'

'Not this time. Something has come up and I need to return to England immediately. I just have to make a little stop in Hosni first,' replied Quaint.

'Hosni?' Rakmun asked. 'What takes you to that place?'

'A tricky situation of the female variety,' smiled Quaint.

'Well, I wish you luck, Cornelius. If ever you are passing Bara Mephista again, our tavern door will always be open for you. And before I forget…Happy New Year!' Rakmun said, grasping Quaint's hand.

The Parting of the Ways

THE SUN WAS rising and the red mountains that dwarfed the settlement bathed everything in shadow. Up on the incline, Madame Destine and Ahman walked.

'Your mind is made up then? I cannot change it?' asked Ahman, his right arm in a makeshift sling.

Destine shook her head. 'I am sorry.'

'But…I do not understand, Destine. The danger has passed! Cornelius said the Hades Consortium was defeated…their base wrecked. There is no one left to fight. You belong here in Egypt, Madame…you belong here with me.'

'Non, mon cher…I do not,' Destine said gently. 'If Professor North is not intercepted, she will succeed in delivering death to Queen Victoria's door. Cornelius will need me and my rightful place is by his side. That is where I truly belong.'

'At what sacrifice to yourself?' Ahman clamped his eyes shut to deny the tears, but it was too little too late. They leaked from the corners, down his face, consumed by his bearded cheeks. 'Cornelius is a grown man…he does not need you any more!'

'My dear, sweet Ahman…I do not expect you to understand, but I have my gifts of clairvoyance fully restored now. I can see what the future holds.' Destine paused, taking a slight breath. 'You are wrong about Cornelius. I have seen what is to come in his future and his trials are far from over. When he learns the truth, he will need me more than ever.'

'The truth?' Ahman asked. 'The truth about what?'

'The truth about his parents,' she said simply. 'Cornelius will pursue his enemy to the ends of the earth, muddying his soul until he becomes one with the darkness…and I fear it will destroy him.'

Ahman watched the flicker of sadness in her eyes. 'And you will tell him?'

'Non, monsieur, it is not a revelation that Cornelius can be told…it is something that he must learn…no matter how painful it will be.'

The carpet trader looked at the fortune-teller and mouthed dry, barely heard words.

'I know…and that is why I must say goodbye,' Madame Destine replied.

The Lucky Conjuror

SOME HOURS LATER, Cornelius Quaint stepped out of Rakmun's horse-drawn cart, leaving Madame Destine sat in the rear. He placed his hands on his hips and looked at the door to Alexandria Bedford's workshop, just as he had done only a few days before. He had opted for a change of clothing en route from Bara Mephista. A grey cotton shirt was tucked neatly into a pair of overlong khaki trousers, with thick braces stretched tight against his chest. Alexandria would surely approve. Despite his change in attire, his face displayed every inch of his recent adventure. Dust engrained itself into his wrinkled face, and the lines around his eyes spread out like dirty cobwebs. It was hard to believe that only three days before he had stood in the exact same spot nervously waiting to knock upon Alex's door, except then he was asking for aid – this time he had something to offer her.

'I won't be long,' he said, reaching for Destine's hand.

She offered him a brief smile, but she could not look him in the eyes – not just yet, her separation from Ahman was still so raw. She wore a white lace veil over her face and a band of golden trinkets was tied around her forehead. She looked every inch a fortune-teller once more.

Quaint placed his hand flat upon the seamstress's door. He could feel the gentle vibrations of machinery inside and he knew that Alexandria was home. His heart rose and fell at the same time as he knocked upon the wood.

'It's me…Cornelius,' he called.

The sewing machine's row abated.

Quaint hovered on his toes, waiting for the door to open, and for Alexandria to leap with joy into his arms, elated at his safe return. But he might have waited there all day and that would never have occurred.

'You are still alive then?' Alexandria shouted from inside.

'Just about,' replied Quaint.

'What do you want, Cornelius?'

'I promised to say goodbye, Alex…and I would much rather do it in person than from the other side of this bloody door!' Quaint responded, careful not to provoke the woman's temper. This conversation would be hard enough as it was, without a fight.

After a long wait, Quaint heard the door's latch being lifted and Alexandria's brown eyes peered around the small gap at him.

'Goodbye then,' she said, attempting to close the door, but Quaint jammed his toe in the frame before she had a chance. 'You might as well come in.'

After an awkward pause, Alexandria finally accepted Quaint's company and he was offered refreshment, with her dropping 'You certainly look as if you need it' into the proposal. She brought a carafe of fresh orange juice and they soon retired to her rooftop garden.