NationStates Jolt Archive

The wind blew over the desert sands.

It howled over the ruins of ancient roads, and over modern ones. Its warmth, its heat, spoke to all of heat beyond these limits of modern civilisation.

One man alone in this small walled village looked to the south. A man who had come down from the Stronghold to be on the cusp of the Deep Desert, and who now awaited a caravan from the south, a caravan whose target he had spoken of to no one.

And the wind blew. And there seemed to the man to be a mocking quality, much like laughter, in its breeze. The man adjusted his silken robes and cowl, covering his fair skin even more. This time, though, he was covering it from a chill, one which had nothing to do with the external temperature.

He looked along to the south for hours, as the wind blew. And finally, he saw something, something which hadn't moved into sight but had just appeared, as if rising from the sands. His sharp eyes narrowed, and he picked up his binoculars and focused.

It was nothing that he hadn't expected to see...the Deep Desert was filled with the ruins of an ancient civilisation, from long before the first empire. A single tower rose from the sands, in its own way much like the minarets and spires of all towns and cities in this land.

But as he turned his binoculars and looked closer, he gave a low groan of alarm and fear...

For a splash of fresh blood, immense and frightening, could be seen to decorate the tower's walls...

And he knew why it was that the wind seemed to mock him. And he knew what had happened to the men who had been sent into the desert.

===========

He stood at his window in the clear night of the southern Inhabited Desert. The tower was still visible, though he knew not why he hadn't seen it before that afternoon. It seemed to him to be evil, disgusting in its cleanliness. As if the years had not touched it.

He made his report, and put it outside his door. He could still hear the wind, that awful, frightening wind that told him what he had not wanted to know, that spoke to his horrified soul.

He could not bear it any more, and he leapt through his window, landing un-injured upon the desert sands. He ran to the southern tower, not knowing why or how he did so, his legs pushing him with all strength.

The wind blew a warning, but he paid it no heed. He was no coward, to avoid that which frightened him. No, no, a thousand times no!

He reached the desert tower, and saw that it was not like the now distant spires of the village. He could not place why he no longer considered it as such, but he did not.

He entered through the gaping door, a portal leading to shadows blacker than he could understand.

And the wind blew.

And leapt.

And took him.

Dear Sir/Madame,

I represent the Arabian Imperial Historical Society and Museum. As you may or may not be aware, military surveillance has discovered several ancient structures in the Imperium's desert territories. It is our intention to launch an expedition to investigate these structures. If our current views as to the age and purpose of these 'buildings' proves correct, we will have made what could be the greatest discovery of the ages. However, our anthropological department is not what it could be, I am ashamed to admit.

Thusly, I am authorised to offer a payment in the thousands in your local currency, in exchange for the assistance of an anthropological researcher, a translator, or even a student research team. Credit for any discoveries will of course be given to your researchers, provided it is clear that they were acting under our auspices. I hope that you see fit to assist us in this expedition, and that we will hear from you soon.

Sincerely, and with the greatest respect,

Dr. Yusuf Ali-Basar

"Nasty weather we've been having," Doctor Ali-Basar said, scribbling down on some papers that had been placed in front of him. The curator of the Historical Musem paused in his writing, as if something was itching him. "Sorry, your name, sir? I...I'm afraid I don't quite recall it." The Curator was a tall man, with a hooked nose and a bald head fringed with the remnants of what had once been a long head of hair. But even when he was standing, this other man would have dwarfed him.

There was a moment of silence, and then the figure hissed, "You may call me al-Ghuraab." Whoever he was, he was dressed in an archaic style, his entire body covered in a long, flowing black robe. His face was nondescript, but his head gleamed, the light reflecting off of his shaven head in a remarkable fashion.

"Ah... thank you, sir." Ali-Basar reached his hand across. "I'm glad to have you aboard." When a moment passed without the stranger responding, the curator sat back. "Ah, of course. Do forgive me."

"I will be waiting for your call, Doctor." The man rose, and left. And where he went, the wind blew with him.

Cautiously, cautiously the man trekked across the desert sands. His name was Hu, and in one word all the meaning of the connected spheres and in-between shimmered like the face of something behind a veil.

In this one word danced the essence of everything. He was pure, Saaf, and on his back he wore just a simple suf, a wool cloak. And in the mind of this simple man named Hu rested Sophia, the great goddess, Wisdom herself. And from these three words he derived his philosophy, nay, his life, that of the dancing infinity, that of a Sufi.

He spoke little, preferring the silence and the sand to conversation with those who comprehended not the real Hu, his namesake, the Unmanifested Absolute, about which nothing could be said.

How long had that which was not discussed lain beneath the sands? Hu was no fool when it came to what lay behind the great mysteries of the world. Much was under the suf, the wool that gave his life meaning. Hu was the one who could see beyond it. There was Iunu in the West, and Meru in the East, and numerous other places besides, but all of them just branches of a darker tree.

That is not dead which can eternal lie...

He continued his trek, waiting, watching. Soon it would lie no longer. What path was his? He would wait and watch. Soon it would be his time. Soon they would look for knowledge. He must be there to provide it.

Only the Pure, Cloaked, Wise Ones had seen the real Hu, his namesake. Only they knew its manifestations, and the terrible forms some could take. But even Hu did not know them all, did not know what was behind the veil, and could not know what came, what stalked the land. He had pieces, but not a complete puzzle. Watch, wait, and offer what knowledge he could, was all he could do.

And he continued his trek, waiting for the right moment to link his thread to the others.

Professor Daniel Moran relaxed in his office, a coffee percolator burbling happily in the background. His feet were up on his desk, and it looked very much like he was asleep. He'd been back from his most recent trip (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=348004) for only a few days, and was, in theory, catching up on the daily grind of his professorship. His breathing was slow and steady, and he only lurged to wakenfullness as one of the student gofers dropped a pile of mail on his desk.

"Mail call, Professor!"

Moran mumbled his thanks and waved the student out from his office. "First things first..." he muttered softly and poured himself a cup off coffee; coffee that was almost thick enough to require a fork and knife. He flicked through the mail, most of it was junk that wasn't worth his time, but one caught his attention. He looked over the plain envelope, "The Imperial Historical Society and Museum, huh? What do they want?"

He smiled a little as he read the brief note, it seemed his reputation was becoming known around the world. The thought of ancient structures belched forth from the endless wastes appealed to him. Virgin ruins were becoming rarer and rarer these days, so it seemed like a good opportunity. And, if nothing else, it wasn't in a blasted jungle. He was getting sick of jungles. Some sand would be a nice switch, all things considered.

He fished out a clean sheet of paper and jotted down a quick note before sealing the original letter and envelope up in a new envelope with his note, and dropped the whole thing in the mail.

Dear Tara,

I hope you're doing well after our latest trip. I apologise for being out of touch these few days, but the university is trying to bury me, I fear.

At any rate, I received this letter today, and thought it might make for an interesting trip. If, that is, you're willing to go on another crazy adventure with me...

Yours,

Daniel

Finally pushing the key into the lock, having struggled with a armful of belongings, Tara Craven kicked open the door and took a step into her apartment. She had just returned home following a stopover with her mother, who had been worried about Tara’s safety during her expedition to look for her father. She had only managed to stay a few days before she could bear it no longer, and had headed back to the Hack and her own space. If she had seen one picture of her father smiling at the camera, she had seen a million of the same pose staring at her.

Moving quickly to the couch, she released the belongings she was holding safely onto it, and took a deep breath. She spotted the red light flashing on her answer phone and pushed the button, being told that she had far more messages than she cared for. Letting them play and giving them a half listen, she headed back to the door and pulled the rest of her luggage inside, glad that she had had to travel light for the last trip.

She pushed the door closed behind her, and finally she found herself totally isolated from the rest of the world. She gave the messages some focus as she heard a friend declare that there was a party on Friday, but she knew that she had long since missed that one, as the voice at the beginning had declared it had been received several weeks previously.

Letting the tape roll on, she moved back towards the door, and opened the mail box, which was itself overflowing slightly. She shook her head as she pulled out all the letters, trying not to rip any as she fought its way out. Everything balanced carefully, she headed through the lounge and made her way to the kitchen, dropping the letters on the counter, and began to sort her way through.

“Junk…junk…junk…” As she looked at each of the first three envelopes, she tossed them unopened into the trash can. “Looks important…junk…junk…Hmmm...” She peered at the one in her hand, recognising the writing on the envelope. With an interested but questioning frown, she ripped open the letter from Professor Moran and carefully took out the contents, running her eye quickly over the note, which she read with a smile, before turning her attention to the accompanying letter.

Ten minutes later, she sat on a stool, the two letters still in her hands as she reread them both again. It did not take her long to decide what she was going to do. She could not say that she enjoyed the last two adventures she had shared with the professor, but if nothing else, they had added excitement into her life, and she was not sure she could bear the thought of her mentor going off on a new expedition without her.

She thought briefly about the one they had only just came back from, sparing a thought for the people she had met on it, before several more thoughts came to mind which she quickly dispelled from her mind. She did not think that Enuti would be back in time to join them, as he still had to finish his business back at his home before he left. She would leave him a message telling him what was happening.

Picking up a piece of paper then changing her mind, Tara headed back out of her apartment, leaving her unpacking until later. She made her way over to the university, where she hoped she would be able to catch the professor between lessons, or she would leave a note for his return. The thought of seeing Moran again made the smile grow on her lips, even if it had only been four days since they returned.

Yusuf Ali-Basr examined the artifact that had been placed in front of him. "And what do you call this, hum?" The curator enquired, adjusting his glasses as he inspected the little engraved icon. "It looks rather like some images I've seen in a paper put out by a...Professor Moran, I think his name was."

"Wouldn't know about that," the mercenary whispered, rolling his hat between his hands. "All I know is, we found that in that one tower, and... well, I'm the only one that got back. That...that thing..."

"Mister Masters, this is an institution of science and learning, not an opium den." Ali Basr pushed some folded up bills over over. "If you wish to hallucinate, do it on your own time."

"Doctor, you can't send anyone else out there! I mean...I haven't felt right since I returned. Let that which is there sleep." Masters pleaded, his eyes downwards.

"Mister Masters, your employment with us is over. You have your payment. I'm certain that the next investigating team will find out what happened to the other members of your party, don't worry." Yusuf rose to his feet and gently shooed the other man from his office. Once alone, he returned to his seat and shook his head. Absurd.

Another class out, another group of freshmen barely staying awake. He retreated to the refuge of his office, having had enough for the day, and pondering canceling a class and skipping out early. As he turned the last corner to his office, he all but ran her over, not noticing her in his distraction. "Oh! Tara!"

Tara smiled, despite almost colliding with the man she had come to see. She composed herself as she let her eyes run over the man before her, almost breaking into a laugh as she compared the man of the classroom with the man in the field. They were like two different individuals.

"Good afternoon, Professor." She somehow managed to sound calm, and not as excited to see him as she felt. "I got your letter and I thought I would come over and answer in person. I didn’t want my reply going astray, I know what the university is like."

Moran chuckled softly, opening the door to his office and motioning Tara in, "Here, have a seat." He took his own seat, frowning a little at the disarray, while idling wondering why he cared what his office looked like.

He shook his head slightly, clearing the thought, "So, what do you think about it? Slogging around in the desert with a crazy bastard like me?"

Tara laughed, as she settled herself in the indicated chair. "It sounds very interesting. And giving up the chance to examine a new find is more exciting than I have words for." She calmed herself down once more. "And I’ve survived being with you twice now, without coming to any harm. I’m willing to risk it again." Not that she was sure she could have turned down the chance if she had wanted to.

Moran nodded slowly, smiling warmly, "Ah, good. I was hoping you'd come with. I was afraid the... ah... 'events' during our last trip might have spoiled things for you." He coughed slightly.

A blush rose on her cheeks. "No..." She trailed off as her thoughts returned to the cave. "There was nothing that happened that would stop me wanting to accept going on another expedition with you." What had occurred on that trip caused her some embarrassment, but she knew it was more how it had come about rather than the event itself.

He nodded slowly, "Yeah... that." He coughed again looking a little uncomfortable, as they'd never really talked much about what happened in the cave. "Well, I'm glad that that hasn't scuttled anything..." He smiled weakly, "On the plus side, we aren't likely to run into any fruit like that in a desert?"

"Professor..." Tara stopped her brain running over so many things she wanted to say, but she did not have the courage to bring them into the open, in case they did more damage to their friendship. "No, I guess there will be no fruit on this trip." As she uttered the words, she felt a pang in her chest. It was more than obvious that Moran did not want a reoccurrence of what had happened.

While not the most observant when it came to human interaction, Moran was still able to tell that there was something on Tara's mind. No time like the present, he thought as he got up, walked over to the door, closed and locked it.

He sat back down and looked at Tara, mildly concerned, "If you can forgive me being blunt... we should probably clear the air. We never really got a chance on the trip, and I'd hate to have this looming on another trip..."

Tara gave Moran a smile, more of one of understanding than actually happiness. She knew as well as he did that they could not go on like this, not if they were going to be able to work together. "Bluntness is usually the best option, Professor. Where does beating about the bush get you?" She felt her heart sink. "It is a good idea to get it into the open and close the chapter, so to speak."

Moran frowned, well this isn't going right. He drummed his fingers on the desk, trying to put his thoughts together in a way that didn't upset her any further. "It's... it's not like that, Tara." He sighed, "I was more surprised than anything." Even when being blunt, he was vague.

Tara looked at Moran, her smile coming and going from her lips as her thoughts whirled around her head. "I have to admit, that had I known what that fruit did, I would not have eaten it myself, and I most certainly would not have given it to you." She frowned. "Can I be honest with you, Professor?"

Moran nodded, "Of course."

She felt the blush growing, as she took a deep breath. "I do not know how to say it, in a way that will not change our friendship. Because I do think of you as a friend, Professor, probably more than I should." She paused for a moment to get her thoughts in order. "If I could change anything about the last trip, I would only change giving you the fruit, but not anything else. Just the giving of the fruit."

She frowned, taking another deep breath. This was harder than she thought it was going to be. "I don’t know if that makes sense. I guess that what I’m trying to say is, and excuse the bluntness, I do not feel bad about what we did, just in the way it came about."

Moran sat silently for awhile, Tara's words slowly sinking in and then being turned over in his mind. He was starting to understand the situation, finding that it largely mirrored his own feelings, even though he hadn't thought about it in that way until now.

Full realization reared its head quickly afterwards. The affair had been accelerated by the fruit, but, rather obviously, not solely fueled by it. As he thought about it, he realized that had things followed a more 'normal' course, the end result would have likely been the same.

As this thought process was going on, something jumped up in his mind, specifically the fact that he hadn't responded yet. He smiled weakly, "Sorry, checked out a moment."

He smiled a little, "The fruit was an... interesting element, yes. And, well... I agree with you. About everything."

As she had waited for his reply, Tara had not noticed that she had moved to the edge of her seat and had managed to hold her breath. When Moran spoke, she let out a hard quick breath, as she took in more air, her body shaking as his words sank in, finally making their way past the multitude of examples her brain had concocted.

"I... I don’t know what to say." She giggled nervously, feeling like laughing out loud and crying with happiness all that the same time. "I was so worried. I thought that I had ruined everything, our friendship, everything." She wriggled in her seat, unsure whether to rush over and hug him or try and seem a little composed, settling for grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Moran laughed a little, "Well, that was reasonably painless, I guess." He smiled, "No, there wasn't a chance of the friendship being ruined." He matched her grin, "Let's just be a little more careful about fruit..."

Tara nodded and smiled. "I’ll never touch another piece in my life." She sat looking at him for a moment, wanting to say so much, but knowing they had other things to discuss. Now that they had managed to clear the air, she felt that things could only go from strength to strength.

"And what about trip, Professor? Do you want me to make the arrangements for the flight out?" She looked around his office, as if seeing it for the first time. "You look like you have a few things to sort out." Her eyes continued to work over the piles of paper that were scattered over his desk.

Moran smirked, "Actually, that would be really helpful. I'll let Dr. Ali-Basar know that we'll be coming." He glanced at the clock and cleared his throat a little, "Ah... don't suppose you'd be interested in getting some dinner, would you?"

Tara nodded and gave Moran a smile. "I’d be delighted." Rising from her chair, she ran her fingers through her hair and grimaced. "I hope you can forgive my appearance. I’d literally just walked into the apartment before I got your note." She laughed suddenly. "I think I might even have left my messages running." Her gaze fixed to his. "My treat, I’m sure I owe you several times over."

Moran stood, laughing a little, "I didn't complain after weeks in the jungle, I'm not about to start now."

Callista Montgomery had everything, money, looks and connections. Her family tree read like a who’s who of Tartarian society, and if you read back far enough you could even see connections with the Imperial Family itself. This life gave her the opportunity to do things that most people did not get the chance to, and one of her favourites was to travel the world, and that was how she found herself in the middle of a desert.

Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, she looked around the town, wondering where she should go from here. She was looking for a tour to fill up her day, somewhere interesting and old; she had had enough of markets and the hotel. She had lost her guide somewhere around the area, and was in no mood what with the heat and sand to be bothered to find the man. She was sure he would turn up again soon, and she had no desire to waste a moment of her time.

She looked across the street, and spotted the museum, deciding that there would be a good place to get out of the sun. Stepping through the door, she pulled the scarf down from her hair, revealing a cascade of deep brown curls. Shaking her head, to get rid of any sand that had managed to seep through the covering, she gently removed the material completely, holding it loosely in her hand as she made her way through the halls of artefacts, her eyes flicking between the exhibitions.

Strolling around at a leisurely pace, unsure of how long she had been in there, nor really caring, being grateful for being out of the sun, she walked deeper and deeper through each of the anterooms. Lost in her thoughts, as she wondered just how the people who had used the items on display, she came across a door. Assuming she had found the information office, she pushed down the handle and walked in, surprised to see a man at his desk talking to another.

“Oh, I did not know you were already with someone.” Callista flicked her gaze between the two. “I’ll wait outside until you are free.” The frown on her face indicating her lack of amusement at having to wait.

.
Dr. Ali-Basar,

I would like to let you know that I have decided to accept your offer. My assistant, Tara Craven, and I will be arriving in your country on $date at approximately $time. After settling temporary lodgings, we will head for your offices so that we can discuss terms and what you intend for this trip.

I look forward to meeting you and seeing the site.

Sincerely,

Prof. Daniel Moran

Masters, his mission horribly miscarried, swooped the money off the desk and walked out, his face grey and ashen. "You can go right in, miss." The mercenary said, looking down. As he walked his hands shuddered.

Yusuf Ali-Basr looked up from where he had been sitting, turning the strange sculpture over and over in his hands. Its design disquieted him, until finally he could take no more and firmly placed it on the desk, facing away from him. The curator stared at the wall for a few moments, and than returned to attention. "Yes, do come in, ma'am." He coughed. "Sorry, he was a former employee of mine. Now, I know what you're...oh, excuse me." The side door had opened, and a small dirty boy walked through and placed some envelopes on the desk. "Thank you, Umar."

Perching his glasses back on the edge of his nose, Doctor Al-Basr turned back to Callista. "Ah, now, where was I...Oh yes. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, and I'm glad to know that you've accepted my offer." He pushed forward some papers. "Just sign here, and you can start...oh, my, I keep forgetting to do this, it is so rude, but what is your name?"

The wool cloaked men ambled through town, almost limping. A sturdy oak staff anchored the man named Hu to the ground. Just where a simple Middle Eastern man had come upon oak wasn't quite clear, especially given the total lack of personal possesions he had, barring his wool cloak and whatever he had chosen to keep in the folds.

Perhaps said man had been to other places.

Out of the museum stormed what looked to be a very angry man. I have seen him before...the man sent to the tower...

More will venture forth.

The Sufi sighed deeply, and appeared to reach a decision. Calmly he picked up his staff and almost crept into the building.

His feet, clad in what looked to an almost comic pair of wool shoes, made no noise, but the quiet knocking of the staff on the floor could be heard clearly. Tap, tap, tap.

He saw the woman in front of the good Doctor, and quietly waited his turn.


Beyond the Alams...

Stepping back into the office, Callista had barely watched the previous occupant disappear through the door, before the man inside had begun talking, only to be interrupted by the arrival of a street urchin. She looked him interestedly, like someone seeing a small child for the first time and expecting him to start jumping hoops or something. Hardly focusing on the curator, Callista had not heard anything before being told that he was expecting her and that she had to sign.

Assuming that this was some kind of normal procedure, she added her signature to the bottom of the paper, and smiled. “Well, you certainly are organised around here, I must give Ali or whatever his name was a tip for having the forethought of letting you know I was coming.” This impressed her no end, she had thought the guide had been little short of useless, and he had arranged her visit with the information man ahead of time.

“I’m Lady Montgomery, Lady Callista Montgomery.” She reached over his desk presenting him with her hand. “It is a pleasure to be here, it most certainly is.” She gave the man a gracious smile and then let her gaze run around the room. “I thought you might have more on display. Posters and leaflets are always most helpfully.”

Sitting on the plane, Tara was beginning to wonder if life would ever let her stay in one place for any length of time. It felt like she had only just got off the plane that had brought her back to Hack, when she found herself sitting on another, winging her way to another country, and one full of sand at that. She still had the nice healthy tan that she had picked up during her jungle expedition with Moran, and was now likely to burn under the desert sun.

She flicked over the page of the tourist guide she had managed to pick up before boarding, and was doing so reading up about the nation they were about to go. There was mention of old ruins, most nations had them, and the thought of exploring some new ones made her more excited that she thought possible. She raised her head as the air hostess came around with drinks, ordering herself am orange juice as she turned her head towards her companion and smiled.

“Professor, this place looks like it could be very interesting.” She shook her head. “Daniel.” She knew it would be hard to get used to calling him by his name, though she felt she had a right to be a little less formal, at least while they were on their own. “The guide book touches on the history of the place, and it covers some of the myths and legends, but it makes no mention of this discover, even as part of the history.” She frowned. “That would have to mean that either this is an unimportant find, or it someone got lost in the mists of time.”

She picked up her drink and took a sip, feeling her mouth spring alive as the sharp orange hit her tongue. “Did you manage to get an appointment with this Dr Yusuf Ali…?” She fished out a bit of paper from a folder in front of her and read briefly. “Ali–Basar?”

"Ali?" Yusuf tilted his head on its side for a moment. "Ali...Ali...hum..." The curator frowned. He could have sworn that the agent he had hired to find people for this mission was named Abbas, but the contractor was renowned for his sloth and so he could have farmed the job out. "Well, I'm glad to know that he's doing okay." Yusuf finally managed, thinking that was safe.

"Now, I understand your desire for more information about it, but I'm afraid I don't know that much myself. That, of course, is why you're here." He pulled the contract back and nodded. "I am authorised by the board and the Ministry to write you a cheque to any number you name, up to 100,000." Doctor Basr looked her over, as if trying to figure something out and failing. He shrugged at the last, and nodded quickly. "Are there any questions?" As he spoke, he fiddled with a letter that had a University symbol on it. "Hum..."

((*is going to let Hack respond before I have Moran and Tara land*))

Moran was as relaxed as ever. In an effort to be a little less stiff, he'd sprung for a pair of designer sunglasses. This had the effect of making him look rather stylish, while at the same time looking like a guy trying to look stylish. He looked pretty comfortable in his seat next to Tara. Oddly enough, he was reading a trashy romance novel. The explination he'd given to Tara when she'd given him an odd look in the airport commisary was that he was in the mood for something the polar opposite of what he usually had to deal with. By his logic, the most anti-eldritch reading material was your standard bodice-ripper.

If Tara was having a difficult time getting used to calling him Daniel, he was most certainly having a difficult time getting used to her calling him that. He didn't regret their relationship, nebulous as it may be, but it was still difficult to get used to. After all, his ex-wife couldn't handle him going away on trips like this, and wouldn't be caught dead joining him. Tara, on the other hand, not only approved of such trips, but eagerly went along with him. Of course, he was also trying to get used to her being so much younger than him, but he figured that was something of a distinct advantage in certain situations. Damn book... coloring my thoughts here...

He smiled at her, slipping the sunglasses off. He was looking like the Patient Professor now, "Assuming it's not editorial oversight... that means this is probably going to be another one of 'those' trips. It's either older than written history, or was purposefully forgotten." He paused, considering her option for a moment, "Or, yeah... could be unimportant, I guess." He smirked, "Perhaps I'm a little paranoid."

He nodded in responce to her question, peering at his glass of water suspiciously. The lime floating in it unnerved him. Why did people have to ruin perfectly good water? The entire point of water was that it had no flavor. If you wanted lime-flavoring, order a Sprite or something. He found himself wondering just who in the hell decided that adding some citrus fruit to water made it more high class. You didn't find this sort of nonsense at Hack Burger, after all. When you ordered water, you got water. But fly first class, or go to an expensive restaurant and they chuck nonsense in the water.

He paused.

He rolled his eyes and sighed.

He turned to Tara, "Sorry, hon," the pet name rolled off his tongue unintentionally. Instead of dwelling on it he just kept talking, half hoping she missed it, certainly hoping she didn't focus on it, "Got a little distracted." He fished the lime out and set it on his napkin. "At any rate, after you managed these tickets, I sent a reply to the good Doctor. We should arrive in country in the early evening, I set our appointment for the next afternoon. That'll give us a chance to pretend to get settled before heading out again."

Tara looked back at her book and frowned, hoping that Moran was not right about the fact that the site or history of the excavation was not in the book because it was better left forgotten. “Hopefully we’ll get more information when we get there.” She turned to the Professor and frowned. “You didn’t book an early afternoon appointment did you? You know how hard I find it to get out of bed.” She blushed slightly realising that now held a double meaning.

She focused back on her book, her mind no longer on the information it contained as she let her mind wonder onto more interesting details, before she realised that she was there to work. She took another sip of her drink and shifting slightly in her seat, she turned to allow her to look better at Moran. “I have a good feeling about this trip. Well, a good feeling as it seems more exciting than the last one. I mean, don’t get me wrong, but searching for my father didn’t really make for good start.”

Pausing she smiled. “Still, we did get to meet some interesting people, and some things that I would rather not see again.” She fingered a light scare that she still had on her arm from the bird attack. Smiling, she rested her head on the back of the chair, her gaze fixed to his face as she fell silent.

* * * * *

Several hours and many miles later, Tara stepped out of the airport, her luggage in one backpack and a case, the latter which would remain in the hotel as they went on any treks that might come about. The heat was the first thing that she felt as she exited the slightly cooler interior of the terminal building, not that it was a major international airport, or not the kind that she had been used to most of her life. But there was some charm about the smaller things in life, and the less than ultra modern facilities made a person fall in love with their surroundings.

After finally managing to find a vehicle to take them to the hotel, which turned out to be far superior than Tara had been expecting in such a place, Tara and Moran moved swiftly to the reception desk, where a very helpful gentleman and a very eager young boy managed to get them to their rooms, which were next to each other with an adjoining door, like all the other rooms in the hotel.

Stepping inside the room that had been given to her, Tara quickly tipped the small boy and watched as he made his way with Moran to the Professor’s room, seeing a few seconds later the boy racing off down the corridor checking out the coins in his hand. Laughing to herself, Tara picked up her cases and began the arduous task of unpacking and making herself feel at home. She moved to the main door of her room, and closed it, then walked over to the adjoining door, and unlatched it her side, before moving over to the window and gazing out on the city outside.

The expression on Callista’s face was indescribable. She had completely lost track of what the man was telling her, although at one point she could have sworn that he had mentioned something about a cheque and a sum of money, but she had been more taken aback by the fact that the tourist information officer could not give her any information about tours that she could take. She looked at him for a moment, speechless as she tried to fathom the best way to handle to situation.

“I see,” she finally muttered. “This is, of course, most alarming. I was expecting you to be able to provide me some details.” She frowned and sighed heavily. “Ali said that you would be the ideal person to speak to about it. He really is useless.” She smiled. “Nevertheless, I am more than happy to take what is available, and there is nothing like a surprise, is there.” As long as it is a pleasant surprise, she shuddered at the thought of some places she had been wrongly advised to visit in the past. “When are we setting off?”

Moran grinned a little, "I suppose it depends on your definition of 'early' afternoon..." He smirked a little, actually looking mischevous, "It's at three, so if you aren't up early enough, I'll just use the ice bucket to... 'encourage' you." He laughed a little, enjoying himself, and feeling like he was on vacation. In a way, he was. At least until tomorrow.

He slipped his sunglasses down a bit to see her better, "Honestly, I do too. I've spent precious little time in the desert. If nothing else, it'll be a switch." He nodded to Tara, understanding how she felt, "I know. It was a difficult trip... but not a total loss." He grinned a little, not saying anything else.

* * * * *

Moran was a little tired by the time they arrived at the airport. The jetlag really affected him this time, and he seemed to have no idea if he was coming or going. He tipped the bellhop and trudged into his room. Once inside, he largely just tossed the bags into the corner, not wanting to bother to unpack. He unlocked the ajoining door, knocked softly and opened it. He grinned at Tara, "Care for a drink...?"

Tara looked up as she heard the knock, and smiled as she saw Moran standing in the doorway. Looking at him questioningly, her brow furrowed, she moved away from the bed and placed some of her belongings on the table, namely her books, pads and pens, knowing that she would need them in an easy to reach place ready for the morning. The last thing she wanted was to attend the meeting unprepared.

Having freed her hands, she brushed them together, as if they had become overly dusty doing that little chore. “A drink sounds like a perfect idea, Professor.” She then ran her hands over her outfit and grimaced, suddenly feeling less than adequately attired to be seen out in public. She had been planning on a shower to refresh her tired body, but the thought of turning down some time with Moran was quickly amended by the affirmative answer.

“I’ll just…” She looked around the room at her belongings. “It can wait.” Grabbing her small bag that contained all her important documents and money, not yet having a chance to store them safely away, she moved over to the professor and pressed a light kiss to his lips, feeling oddly excited and shy at the same time. “Let us go and toast our safe arrival.”

Doctor Ali-Basr inspected Callista for a moment, and then he frowned. "I would assume that the contractor would have told you at least a few of the details?" He pulled for some files. "You'll leave for the northern deserts at dawn in two days. You'll arrive at Am-Shar oasis the day after, and then travel westwards to the old fort at Badnu. The caravan director will inform you of your agenda from there."

(Stupid...post...vanishing...)

Callista smiled, and listened to the itinerary, it sounded very interesting. Talk of oasis and forts were just what she wanted to see on her tour. She shook the man’s hand enthusiastically; the idea of being part of a caravan instilled a find of fantasy feel to the whole event. “That sound’s perfect. Two days, I’d best get myself packing, if I can find Ali and let him know that everything is arranged.” She gathered her bits together and turned towards the door, stopping as she pulled it open slightly. “You have been very kind, very kind indeed.”

She headed out of the door, passing the name she had seen earlier, and made her way back through the museum, this time taking no notice as her mind dwelled on the adventure ahead. She rarely got really excited about anything that she did on a trip, she had been on so many, but this one, this one felt different, this one sounded like something out of a film.

Stepping out into the street, instantly feeling the heat of the sun on her face, she placed her scarf back over her head, and flipped one of the ends over her shoulder, and began the slow search for her guide.

There are people in this world who could get lost in their own bedroom, unable to find their socks, a book, a lamp, or even the door. Prof. Moran was just such a person. There were also people out there who could be dropped into the middle of nowhere, and quickly find their way about, manage basic communication, and largely do pretty well for themselves -- or at least survive long enough to get back to civilization. Paradoxically enough, Moran was also this type of person.

For some reason, he seemed to always be lost in familiar settings. He never gave it much thought, but if pressed, he'd probably just figure that when he was in a familiar setting, his mind would wander off about something else, and he'd soon be lost or forget what he was doing in the first place. In a new setting, he paid much more attention to what was around him. There was a certain amount of boyish wonder, of course, but there was quite a bit of professional interest as well.

Thus, Tara found herself on a whirlwind tour of the city, largely being led by a man who didn't really know where he was going. However, he did a remarkable job of finding interesting little shops, restaurants, and bars. Most of the places were open air affairs, much like the kind of open market one would expect to find in a desert city. He lead her from place to place, never quite satisfied with whatever place he found, looking for something intangible.

As time wore on, he noticed that Tara's bemusement was starting to morph into frustration. He quirks were cute, but there came a time when one simply wanted to sit and eat, not try and discover the hidden gems of an unknown city. He apologized by way of stopping at a little storefront and buying her a surprisingly beautiful amber necklace. Judging by the desert, the amber must be truly ancient if it really was local. Just a few paces from the store was a small little cafe. Moran smiled, finally satisfied.

The wait may have been maddening, but on reflection, it was clearly worth it. The food and drink was top notch, and the staff endlessly patient with the foreigners who didn't speak the language. Between Moran's Arabic (close, but not the same as what the locals used) and the waiter's broken English, they were able to communicate well enough to place a proper order. After a delightful, relaxing dinner, after-dinner drinks (a local brew of coffee that was shockingly strong and smoothed with alcohol) and delightful conversation, the couple found themselves strolling the city some more.

Moran managed to find some performers, playing local music (generally fast, but the occasional minuet-sounding song). By mutual, unspoken agreement, the two joined the locals in their revelry, dancing, drinking, and singing amazingly off key.

---

Somewhere around 10AM, Moran rolled out of bed, rubbing his face and looking utterly shocked at the clock. He was normally an early riser, and to sleep this late was certainly an oddity. While not hung-over, the memory of the previous night was more than a little blurry. As he looked around his room, the clues to his exhaustion fell into place. Specifically, scattered clothing, and a softly snoring Tara in bed next to him. He smiled a little, kissing her forehead -- which earned a slightly murmur -- and got out of bed. He figured he should be surprised or feel guilty, but it was still a new situation to get used to.

Breakfast followed a shower followed a morning workout followed morning 'devotionals'. Before he knew it, it was one in the afternoon and time for him to attempt to rouse Tara. He smiled a little as he watched her sleep, her slightly twitching eyes meaning she was probably dreaming. He remembered when she'd taken one of his classes that was only offered in the mornings. She was pretty much always late, a practice that had become something of a class joke. And, of course, on their first outing together, she'd almost slept through the departure.

He smiled again and kneeled next to the bed, looking at her as she slept. He leaned in and gave her a kiss, smiling as she stirred a little. "Time to get up Tara..." He chuckled as she rolled over, Time to escalate... He grabbed the covers and yanked them off the bed, grinning a little and pausing briefly. He then went over to the air conditioning unit and turned it all the way up. The unit hummed softly and, being in a tourists' hotel, worked efficiently, rapidly lowering the temperature to rather uncomfortable levels.

He smirked at her as she woke up and gave him a look that nicely combined disgust, cold, sleepiness, and affection. He turned the unit to a non-arctic level and smiled, "You can get your revenge later."

Shivering, Tara looked at Moran and pulled the covers up around her as she waited for the room to get back to a decent temperature. She blinked her eyes several times, trying to clear the sleepiness from her body. “What time is it?” She did not want to look at the clock, knowing what the Professor was like for early rising. Stretching her body, her hand running absentmindedly through her hair, she focused her eyes on the clock, blinked and looked again as the figures took shape.

Turning her face to Moran, she sat up, the sheet falling down into her lap, as she looked at him questioning. “One pm?” She laughed lightly. “I know I didn’t want to get up early…” Rubbing her eyes, she turned in the bed until she could put her feet on the ground, still trying to rid her mind of sleep. “Don’t we have a meeting today?” She paused for a moment as details began to flood into her consciousness. Suddenly she turned and smiled. “Good morning.”

She slipped out of bed, and looked at her things scattered around the room, picking up the t-shirt she had been wearing the previous day, and quickly slipped it on over her head, not worry about any other clothing. “Is the water hot?” She moved over to the professor and pressed a kiss to his lips, her fingers moving up to his cheek and caressing gently. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be showered and dressed.”

Walking back into her room, she was for once glad that her habit of sleeping late meant she never had the opportunity of falling into the habit of spending hours at a time getting ready for anything. Having ten minutes was actually a bonus for her. She quickly got into the shower, having re-entered her own room, where she could also grab some clean clothing.

* * * * *

Slightly longer than the promised ten minutes, but less than twenty, Tara re-entered Moran’s room through the dividing door, and smiled. On the bedside table, she spotted the gift that she had been given the previous day. She walked over, picked it up and replaced it around her neck, feeling the cool amber against her skin, as she noticed the room had once more returned to it usual temperature.

“I take it you’ve eaten?” She knew that the professor was not one to dawdle at anything, and despite not having often woken up in his bed yet, she had spent enough time with him to know what she was going to have to get up with the lark to ever get the chance to sit down to cereal and toast with him. “I’ll grab something on the way.” Another benefit to always being late, she tended to be able to eat on the go, and usually at a run.

The cloaked man stepped up, his staff rattling, looking almost through the museum curator with what can only be described as a piercing gaze. Hu looked as if he had invented the phrase 'piercing gaze'.

He waited only a moment before speaking. "I would like to accompany the parties setting out for the Tower," he said, in a low voice, so that eventually the man was straining to hear what he was saying. "As a guide, informational if nothing else. They will need my guidance before the end."


It was a quiet statement, almost careful, as if the Sufi had intended to slip it in below the radar. The distinctive wool cloak he wore would be familiar to anyone in Arab society as marking him as one of the few members of mystic Sufism.

Cities like this have a nasty habit of changing, partially because most everything is already mobile, so shopkeeps tend to get up early to claim good positions. Cafes and restaurants rarely move, but sometimes still seem to be not where you left them. It was a difficult concept for most people to grasp, but when one makes a habit of digging up things that are best left buried, a disorienting city is child's play.

It didn't much matter as Moran had little interest in finding the same cafe. Since Tara managed to get ready so quickly, they still had plenty of time to get to their appointment. Somewhere around two o'clock, the found themselves in a nice little restaurant, enjoying to hot, dry air. He had a small meal, mildly hungry, but not exceptionally so; Tara ordering a larger meal, not having eaten yet.

It was setting up to be a rather nice day.

Doctor Ali-Basr frowned and rubbed his eyeglasses for a moment. The sufi mystic drew his attention for a moment, before he rubbed his eyes and nodded briefly. "Well, sir... I...I'm sure we'd...be pleased to have you on the expedition. Your knowledge of the deserts would prove most useful, I'm sure."

The curator frowned and tilted his head for a moment. "I would wonder how you found out about this expedition, though?" There was a pause. "Not that I don't appreciate it, of course!"

~~

As Callista exited, a man stepped out in front of her. Masters stood there, a deadened look on his face. "Miss, I heard everything. You don't know what you're getting yourself in for." The man used to be handsome, and could probably still be considered such.

But some event had aged him, had whitened his black hair and grayed his skin prematurely. His voice was held in the deepest control as he finished, "If you had any sense, you'd leave immediately."

Tara looked at the plateful of food before her, and began the process of eating, feeling her stomach about to growl at her if she did not get it down quickly. She was not exactly sure what she had ordered, but at the same time, she was too hungry to care. The journey and the previous night had left her feeling ravenous. If Moran did not eat his own quickly enough, she actually believed she could finish his too.

“The city is very…” She looked around here, feeling as if she had been to one of places before, but she knew that it was merely through films that she recognised the feel. “I would say familiar, but that would be wrong.” She frowned trying to find the ideal word to describe the feeling. “Are we far from the museum? I recall that was where the meeting was to be held.” She took a piece of food and ate it quickly, as she felt her stomach begin to complain. “I don’t know whether it’s because what happened on our last tours, but I feel oddly uneasy.”

* * * * *

Callista looked at the man before her, lost totally for words. Although this was not something that held back the young woman for too long. “Who are you? What do you want?” She started with the usual questions. “What right do you have to listen into a private conversation?” Her eyes flared with annoyance at being stopped in the street.

“I will not be told that I am too inexperienced to take part in this expedition.” She could get very haughty when she was riled. “I would kindly ask you to move out of the way and let me past. And it would be better for all around, if you kept your nose out of my business.” She made a step to pass the man, nod caring if she had to barge past him to get away.

The man named Hu smiled. It was not a benevolent smile. It was not a malevolent smile, for that matter. Just a slight crack in the man's stone expression. The Sufi had known of the ill-fated mercenaries. Had known what they had sought. Had known that they had found it. He hadn't followed them very far. He hadn't needed to.

He knew that it had been lost for far too long. Of course, the destiny of everything lost is to be found.

Of course, the matter of something being lost is a thing of perception. Many people forget, but there are some who remember.

Some who pass down whispers of things that lurk. Of premeval things that should not be disturbed.

He then remembered he had been asked a question. "Perhaps one must be cloaked to see things behind a Veil, Doctor." There was a presence...

"And there are many things that are Veiled."

He waited a few seconds, listening quietly to the sounds around him. He turned without further comment, leaving no information, taking his acceptance and running with it, heading in the direction of the escalating situation between Callista and the man, fast but not, seemingly, intentionally so. The man looked as if he glided.

Moran chuckled softly at how hungry Tara was, "Remind me to keep my fingers to myself, I'd hate to lose one..." He sipped from the steaming cup of coffee he was holding, occationally nibbling on the pastry-thing he had ordered. He glanced around the bizarre before seeing a familiar landmark, "Ah, there we go. Looks like we're only a few blocks from the museum, so it shouldn't take us too long to get there. I should think we won't get lost or anything."

He leaned back in his chair, taking another drink of his coffee, "One has to expect a certain amount of uneasiness, I suppose. If nothing else, I'd expect a certain level of unease when starting a new expidition. Also... well... this is an... interesting city. I could have sworn that this cafe wasn't here last night." He sighed and shrugged slightly, "All part of its charm, I suppose." He smiled at Tara, winking slightly, "Besides, you should be used to this sort of thing by now. You're a professional now. Charging head-long into uneasy situations is your stock and trade."

He chuckled and waved his hand vaguely, "Besides, you've handled big nasties before, and have come out none the worse for wear." He grinned, "Aside from a strange affection for a crazy old man."

Tara stopped eating and smiled. “If finding affection with you is the payment for the crap to come, then I am more than ready to face whatever comes along.” She blushed slightly, having come across all sentimental. “Still, I’m not sure I would call myself a professional, more an amateur in the right kind of clothing. I know I wouldn’t be sitting here if were not for you.” She lowered her eyes and took another bite of food, chewing quickly so she could speak again.

“I just hope, that after the last outing, this turns out to be nothing more than a bunch of stones that someone tossed away while completing an extension to their home.” She laughed. “I would like to be able to kick off my shoes, relax and do some normal tourist things with you, which do not involve leaving the hotel.” Her laughter grew, which caused her eyes to twinkle.

Taking another bite, she frowned slightly. “Still, I can’t shake the feeling that we are never going to do the plain tourist thing.” She looked him in the eye, and smiled sadly. “I have the feeling some of us are destined to face things that most only have nightmares about.” She thought back to their last trip. “I really don’t know what I would have done without you and Enuti.” Her thoughts turned for a moment to their companion, who was making his way from his jungle home to the Hack.

OOC: If something is unacceptable about this, I'm just trying to play catch up. Lemme know and I'll fix it.

The flames roared, and Enuti shouted desperately into them, screaming silently. He watched as the inferno expanded, consuming house after house, body after body, living or dead. The blazing figure stood in the middle, hell itself reflected in its eyes.

He was helpless, unable to advance, unable to do anything….

Shadows moved…

The haunting figure fell, darkness descended…

Smoke rose from the top of a cliff face…

A dark body lay in an ancient room, moss and vines covering the cracked stone walls, yellowed and faded with age…

The dark body screamed of his failure, accusing him silently…

“It’s not your fault.”

He turned, spun, really, without trying, as if he were floating…

Familiar faces stared at him, smiling kindly, white teeth flashing against black skin. “Let go of your blame. It serves you no good, and has you trapped within its poison. It will kill you just as surely as you wish nightly that monster had done.”

The first voice spoke again. “There is more darkness in the world, my friend. Let our deaths not be in vain. Your task is great, and the light has spared you to become its instrument.”

“I don’t want to be its instrument,” Enuti snarled at the image of his best friend.

His two friends seemed to consider this, then Beneli spoke softly. “Then you must still fulfill your obligations. The Two have need of you, and they avenged, and so you must serve. They need you, and even if you refuse to serve the light, you cannot refuse this. The honor of us all is at stake.”

Enuti’s head fell. “I shall not fail you again.”

The vision ended, and Enuti gasped with shock as the reality of the smoke filled room came back to him.

“Did you see?” the creaky voice of the old woman whispered from somewhere, hidden by the pungent mist.

“I did.”

“Then go, young roisav.”

* * * * *

The weapons were the easiest part. He was probably becoming as paranoid as Moran, or at least as heavily armed. A plastic framed pistol joined his slightly battered and well used sidearm, and a small revolver found its way to the top of his boot.

The multi-function scope he had ordered so long ago became intimately familiar to him, until looking through it was as natural as seeing unassisted.

The money flowed freely as he bought the supplies, for Enuti had inherited quite a bit of it, being the only survivor.

The communications were easy too. He knew how to contact Moran, but thought, for now, he would just surprise the professor and Tara by showing up. Planes tickets were purchased.

And as money was the lifeblood of the government, so corrupt and full of holes as to make Swiss cheese look solid, the money bought him something else. An Air Marshalship for the national airline would at least let him carry the concealable weapons until he arrived in the Hack.

Other than the clothing he wore, all his belongings fit into his rugged pack, a single duffle, and his new rifle case, to replace the one destroyed in the flames.

Money also bought him other things. A visitor’s guide to the Hack, and the Federation, along with a number of other manuals and brochures about his destination, including a very detailed map of the city and the campus.

* * * * *

When the plane landed, it was midday, and Enuti shook off the last vestiges of sleep from the very long flight. Black, old style battle dress pants tucked into well worn combat boots were topped with a lightweight black mock turtleneck and green combat jacket. Rifle case and pack slung on his shoulders, duffel in his hand, small weapons, concealed and not, worn on his person, he hailed a cab and directed it to his destination.

* * * * *

Four hours later, Enuti was back in the airport, standing in line to purchase another ticket to get on yet another plane for yet another absurdly long flight. At least a message had been left for him, since he had told them he would join them sooner rather than later.

And he was only a few hours behind, apparently. His flight would arrive the night after theirs.

He slept on the plane.

* * * * *
Morning came over the desert city, and Enuti shivered as the sun beat back the coldness of the night. Still in the same clothing, he had been plenty warm, but the chill of the air was new to him, and he knew the unrelenting heat without the shade would be difficult for him to adjust to.

But those of the jungle were an adaptable type, and he would do just that…

* * * * *

Different clothing might have been more appropriate, and Enuti spent some time early after the markets opened acquiring what he might need, and even more, listening and observing. Finding Tara and Moran had been easy, and his room in the hotel was just down the hall from theirs. He grinned, glad they had finally decided to give up on the pretense.

Besides, one room made it so much easier to guard them both.

Having made a few friends, with enough money changing hands, he had learned everything he could, the stories that would not be told to visiting dignitaries and investigators. Horrifying things, though, most, he imagined, were made up for his benefit. He did not pay overly much for his information, though.

Hiring shadows was easy enough as well, for the rest of the day, though Enuti was beginning to stretch his funding tight. Or, at least, the available funding. Having to cash in more was something he did not want to do just yet, if it could be avoided.

But he had desert gear now, local made, of considerable quality. Since his arrival, his pile of belongings had easily increased in his room by half again.

Making swift contact with one of his shadows in the early afternoon, he finally heard what he wanted to hear.

Blending was easy enough…

* * * * *

The powerfully built native materialized out of the crowd in the restaurant like a wraith from the night, adding on the end of Tara’s comment, “Probably you’d’ve both fallen off the cliff like rag dolls.”

He grinned.

Turning her head, Tara practically jumped out of her seat and threw her arms around Enuti. “You got here.” She stepped back and looked at him, then turned to Moran and smiled. “I was really worried you wouldn’t get our message that we had left the Hack.” She indicated a chair at the table. “Sit down and join us.” As she retook her seat she flicked her eyes between her two companions. “You arrived in good time, we have a meeting at the museum in a short while, but I needed some breakfast.” She grinned at the thought of the time, but knew that Enuti would most likely understand.

“I don’t know how much you picked up from our message, not that we know much ourselves. We only arrived yesterday, and I, ah, kind of had a sleep in.” She looked at Moran her eyes twinkling with her feelings for him, and she was sure that the young man with them would pick up what had happened between them without her having to put it into words. “So, how have you been? You are looking very…desertish.”

Enuti smiled as he took a seat after returning Tara's embrace. "Desertish?" He grinned lopsidedly, looking down at his green and black clothing. "Yes, I managed to get your message, apparently only a few hours after you left. Been very busy since I got in this morning." His coffee arrived, ordered before he interrupted the conversation and joined the two at the table.

Sipping it, he eyed them both speculatively. "I imagine you needed the sleep after a busy evening once you arrived. Was the bed comfortable? I didn't get a chance to throughly test mine last night."

Tara was not sure exactly what Enuti had been implying but she felt he knew more than she had expected. If he had been looking for an answer to his unspoken question, the faint blush that rose to her cheeks was ample. She gave him a smile, as she picked up another piece of food. “From what I recall the bed was…uh, very comfortable.” She looked at Moran and smiled, despite not really wanting to confirm their actions.

“I’m so glad you managed to make it here in good time.” She popped the food into her mouth and chewed vigorously, before swallowing and washing it down with what was described on the menu as tea. “Did you manage to get everything sorted out before you left?” She suddenly frowned as she spotted something for the first time. “Are you not eating? You have time to order before we go.” She once more turned to the Professor and smiled. “Daniel dragged us in here despite my telling him I would be happy to eat on route.”

Moran chuckled softly at Enuti's implications, flashing a pointedly innocent smile, "I had a lovely evening and some well-earned sleep." He wasn't the type to announce the details of his sex life from the tops of the mountains, but he did realise that Enuti probably had a good idea of the situation. After all, he knew about the fruit and managed to keep from blathering about it. Besides, there was no reason to feel guilty about his relationship with Tara. Still, one could play at innocence.

He offered his hand to Enuti, "Good to see you again, and I'm glad you could make it." He set his coffee cup down, turning to buisness effortlessly. "We didn't have time to give you a full briefing, but a few days ago, I received a letter from a local archaelogist talking about some ruins that were found. Seems the site doesn't really exist in any history text, leaving us nicely paranoid," he grinned a little at how he always jumped to the worst case scenerio and at Tara's growing tendancy to do the same. "At any rate, we were going to head over to his office to meet with him and just stopped here for a bite to eat." He grinned some more, "Miss. Craven still likes to sleep in."

He glanced at his watch, "We still have some time if you want to eat, Enuti. The food here's pretty good, actually."

Before Enuti could respond yes or no to Moran's invitation, a loud burst of machine gun fire came from the street, shattering the windows nearest their table. It was probably a minor miracle that no one was severely injured, though the voice that came next made it clear what this was directed at.

"Professor Moran, you stopped us in the Jungle!" The accent was impossible to place, sounding both Chinese and Arabic at the same time. "You should turn around, turn right around!" All that could be seen outside, though, was a man on a motorcycle driving off as fast as he could.

~~

Masters looked at Callista cautiously, and threw his hands up in the air. "Just...trying to warn you, miss." He said, finally. He grabbed his hat and put it firmly on his head, then sighed. "Be careful, that's all."

Then Masters stepped outside. And the sound of bullets filled the air...

Hu did not run forward. For all his somewhat less than sane dialogue, he wasn't about to present himself as a target, especially with the rather disturbing implications of what had just happened.

No, he simply kept his rather calm face, took a few pointed steps backwards, and called out cautiously to the woman that had been talking to the unfortunate man, in English that was probably better than expected for a simple Arab man.

"Are you alright, Miss? You have taken on a rather dangerous mission, it seems." Again, that smile that held no emotion. The young man in the wool cloak ruffled his hair a bit. "I won't be one of the fools that hopes to dissuade you. But what I can do, as the good Doctor has seen fit to allow me, is aid you." His eyes gleamed.

He took a short bow. "My name is Hu, Miss, a simple Sufi of the desert."

It was, in the circumstances, probably a bit disconcerting that Hu was so calm in the event of the man's death, but it was not overly worrying to him.

"We should probably alert someone."

It was something he never spoke of: that one night, agess ago, when a young Daniel Moran, graduate student, had stumbled into a long forgotten cave in the largely unexplored middle of Mhu Thulan. Deep in that ancient cavern, Moran had come face to face with the being who would be his patron. The furred, bat-eared Toad god had seen something in Moran that it liked, and instead of simply eating him, had made him an offer he couldn't refuse. In exchange for his soul, he'd been made one of Tsathoggua's chosen. What that meant was never fully made clear to Moran. There were certain benefits, however. Physical ability was clearly one of them, he'd learned.

As the first bullet pierced the plate glass window, shattering it, Moran grabbed the table with one hand, flipping it aside. He shouldn't have been surprized that Enuti had chosen the chair facing the window, but he was pleased that the native was properly paranoid. As the waiters were dropping to the ground, hoping to avoid being hit, Moran launched himself, knocking Tara to the ground. While he would say that he was just acting on instinct and not thinking when questioned, he knew exactly what he was doing, and he figured that Enuti would be more than able to take care of himself in this situation.

After the would-be assassins fled the scene, Moran stood up, calmly brushing himself off and helped Tara and Enuti up from the floor. He shook his head sadly, "I don't think this is a ruin that was too pointless to write about after all." He glanced around at the chaos, flashing a wry smile, "I think you'll have to wait a bit longer for breakfast, Enuti."

Enuti’s reaction to the gunfire was as immediate as Moran’s as the first bullet slashed through his clothing, just breaking the skin of his arm.. While having no creature possessing him, his reactions were perhaps a bit slower, but not enough to matter. His eyes took in the reality of Moran moving the table one handed, which changed his protective movements into something else entirely…

He rolled forward through the space the table had been, out of his chair, coming to his feet in a smooth motion as the last of the bullets cut the early afternoon air. His feet were spread comfortably at shoulder width and not quite in a line, his left slightly forward, his right, slightly back. His arms were parallel to the ground, clutching his primary sidearm in a two handed grip, his upper body tracking with his eyes as he attempted for a clear shot at the motorcycle.

He did not get one, and lowered his weapon, his dark eyes blazing angrily at the retreating form. He really did not want to have to start carrying his rifle while in town, if they would even let him, which he doubted. After a quick glance around, he confirmed that no one seemed to be injured, and, more importantly, there were no other obvious threats. Then he turned to Moran to respond.

“I ate lunch an hour ago, Professor, so I’m not worried about me. Miss Craven's breakfast, though,” he glanced at the ruin smeared along the ground, “seems to be more of an issue.” He turned to business with a tight, unhappy grin. “It would appear that those concerned about the ruin may have something more in the way of an immediate threat. But I suppose when we reach the ruin, we might very well understand why.”

Letting his mind drift back before the shooting, Enuti replayed Tara’s words in his head, and turned to her. “Yes, I managed to sort everything out at back in Naduibi.” His voice turned rather sad and bitter. “What’s left is being transferred to the Hack. There’s nothing left for me now.” He glanced around as the street scene was slowly returning to normal, the emotions of his loss vanishing once more. “Should we wait for the authorities to question us about this? Or should we go ahead to the meeting and get out of the open for a bit?”

Finally satisfied as he said this there were no more actual threats, his pistol vanished once more into its holster on his thigh. He never noticed the slight cut on his arm, which was no longer bleeding.

Tara had hardly noticed the firing, when she had felt herself pushed to the floor by Moran, as bullets flew all around them. She shuddered at the sound of splintering wood and breaking glass, and the shrill screams of people as they tried to escape the deadly shower. Yet as quickly as it had started it had stopped.

Dusting herself off, as she stood alongside Moran, having held his hand longer than she had realised, finding strength in his touch. “I think I preferred it when I thought the ruins were not important enough to mention.” She found the Professor’s gaze and frowned. “And normally we run to trouble once we get close to our goal, this time we haven’t even begun.” Running her fingers through her hair, as she always did when agitated, she took several deep breaths to calm herself.

As Enuti returned to their previous topic, she felt herself growing more composed, and even managed to smile at her two companions. “I think I would feel better getting to the museum. The last thing we want is even more trouble. The authorities will have to sort this mess without us.” She flicked her eyes between them, wanting to get out of the open.

Moran nodded absently to Tara's comment, "Mmm... yes. Sounds like these guys are related to the ones from our first trip together... Evil Cultist does not forgive." He paused a moment, glancing at Tara and Enuti to make sure they were okay; especially that Tara was. Satisfied that little was hurt other than nerves, he made a casual gesture with his right hand, looking perfectly inauspicious. After a moment or two, he walked out of the cafe, motioning for his companions to follow him, making no mention of the fact that everyone inside was almost pointedly looking elsewhere.

As they walked towards the museum, he looked at Enuti, "Just so you're up to speed on what's going on... Tara and I seem to be something of a weirdness magnet." He gave Enuti the Cliff's Notes version of what happened on his and Tara's first trip together, bringing him up to speed a little. By the time he finished, they were standing near the front door of the museum. His face was still serious, "I just want you to have a grasp of what might be going on, Enuti, although the hail of bullets is probably a good hint." He sighed, hoping that Enuti would still want to come along, "I understand if you're hesitant, but I want you to know the score here. Any questions?"

Callista was visibly shaking and had gone almost a deathly white. She had been in situations before but never something so life threatening. She brushed herself down and checked herself for injuries, sighing loudly with relief when she had found she was perfectly fine. That was when she turned and saw the dead body of the man who had moments ago been talking to her. She let out a scream of surprise then took several steps away, as if the death was infectious.

Barely coming to terms with what had happened, she turned and came face to face with a cloak covered man, a little startled shout escaped from her lips, her nerves currently shot to pieces. She listened to his words, feeling strangely calmed by his presence.

“I, ah, I…I think I should go back to my hotel.” She stammered, as her eyes begun to focus on the scene of destruction around her. “I…I…” Her gaze fell on people bleeding until she once more found herself looking at the dead man, unable to speak or move.

* * * * *

Tara visible shuddered at the thought of this trip being related to their first. She could still clearly see all the death and destruction that had happened during it, and those zombie-like people still haunted her dreams. But then, so many dead already did, and some of them not strangers.

She listened to Moran as he explained the story to Enuti, feeling relieved that they had managed to walk out of that jungle alive. She spared a thought for the native they had met that day; she still carried his dagger around with her, almost like a good luck charm. It seemed it worked even when it was safely tucked away back at the hotel.

Pulling open the door of the museum as the Professor finished his discussion with Enuti, Tara felt the refreshing coolness from inside, and stepped through, marvelling at how museums instantly managed to take you to another time. She moved further into the first room, heading off to the first exhibit, already lost in the examination of the piece.

"That is an idol of Jove from the first century," a voice said, from behind Tara. It was a dry, academic voice, one that showed little interest in the outside world. "We believe it to have been traded via Ptolemain intermediaries to ancient Yemen in about the second century before your Christ." Doctor Ali-Basr, leaning on his cane, walked forward and dusted off the glass cover, before opening it and reverentially passing the statuette to her. "Note the... damaged leg. It was found in an old city just a couple of miles east from here and had to be reassembled."

The Doctor bowed his head in greeting. "Tara Craven, I assume?" Without waiting for an answer, he picked up another artifact waiting on a desk. This was a grim, black fragment of strangely coloured metal with a carving that Tara might remember from her time in the jungles...

Tara took a moment to realise the man had been speaking to her as she admired the item in the case. She turned and smiled, and watched reverently as he took the article out of the case, having only a little time to pull out her handkerchief before taking hold of the object, not wanting to touch it with her bare hands. As she focused on the details he had pointed out, she almost dropped it as she heard him use her name, before the penny dropped instead of the statuette.

“Yes, I’m Tara Craven.” She would have shaken his hand had her own been free. “You must be Doctor Ali-Basr. Professor Mor…” The smile she had on her lips disappeared as her gaze was distracted by the item he held in his hand, the symbol making her stomach flip, and she only just managed to place the statuette in its cabinet without dropping it.

“Where did you find this?” She indicated the artefact, her eyes glued to it, as if her brain was trying to separate past thoughts that came rushing into her head as the symbol seemed to pull at her attention. She looked up the Doctor finally, her eyes filled with fear.

Enuti listened intently to Moran’s explanation, carefully keeping an eye on Tara as she drifted further and further ahead of the two men. “I’m forced to disagree with you, Professor. I think you’re the weirdness magnet. Whoever it was, was gunning for you particularly. Miss Craven and I are just along for the ride.” He grinned. “And it sounds like it’ll be a fun ride, so I’m staying.” His face grew serious. “All kidding aside, I owe you and Miss Craven a debt I can never repay, so you won’t be rid of me that easily.”

He glanced inside the museum and saw Tara talking with a man, then his eyes narrowed as he saw her face changing, becoming upset. “If I have any other thoughts, I’ll be sure to share them with you, Professor.” His distraction undoubtedly drew Moran’s attention as well. “But perhaps we should go inside now.”

"Ah. Well, that is, of course, what you are here to solve." Ali-Basr held the small black object in his hand and motioned for her to follow him into his office. The curator stopped in his tracks and glanced behind him. "And if you could call your...friends in after you, please?"

~~

Once they were all inside, Ali-Basr sat behind his desk. "Now, Professor Moran... I would like to thank you on behalf of the Museum and its Director for coming to assist us in our expedition." The curator put the fragment on the table. "This was, as your assistant so astutely questioned after, collected by the previous expedition."

"Regrettably, only one man returned. A Mister Masters. Perhaps I'll introduce him, though he was rather shaken." The man frowned as if trying to remember something, and then nodded. "I remember reading your monograph on "Ancient Myth-cycles And Indigenous Belief Systems of The Native Populace of Naduibi, and I knew you would be the person we need." There was a moment, and he pulled out the disquieting statue, with its tentacles and strange material. "What would you make...of this?"

Moran chuckled a little at Enuti's comments, realizing that he was probably right. He started to reply, but was all but drug inside the museum and ushered to an office. Moran frowned at the statue that Ali-Basr pulled out, "From the site, you say, hmm?" He reached to take the statue, pausing just short of touching it, feeling something resisting him.

In a way, it made sense.

This statue was very similar to what he (and Tara) had dealt with in that godforsaken jungle. He'd felt an increase in power and potency after that trip. He hadn't thought much about it, but the resistance from the statue coupled with this implied that the statue represented something that his "patron" greatly disliked. A chance for more favor, but likely much greater risk.

He pulled his hand back and looked at Ali-Basr, "Yes... I'm familiar with that particular deity. It's a nasty little bastard, fond of raising the dead as zombie slaves. According to legend, of course." He frowned a little, "Rather surprized to see it here, though..."

Tara stood back, slightly behind Moran. She listened to the comments that both men made, shuddering at the thoughts of going through all of that again. She looked past the Professor at the statue that had been presented to him, wondering briefly why he did not take hold of it. But the thought was quickly swept away, as she took a step forward, coming to stand along the table, to get a better look.

“This ruin that you spoke of,” she interjected. “Are there no records as to what it is in respect of? Some folklore or myth, or historic event that we can use as a basis.” She looked at the Doctor and frowned. “And this Mister Masters, did he mention anything about what we could find there?” She turned to Moran. “I think we should at least speak to him before we go jumping in blind.” Tara could not shake the feeling of fear that she felt from earlier.

The Sufi simply nodded, a black hole of emotion. He leaned in a bit, lowering his voice. "I will not say this loud, in light of what has just happened. There are enemies, Miss, enemies that do not want your mission to continue. And after what has just happened, I wouldn't be surprised if you leave this desert forever.

He was whispering now. "Enemies that will hound you, wherever you go, if you think to continue." He nodded briefly towards the dead man, whispering almost inaudibly. "This is what happens to those who know things."

He grinned a bit. "But your enemies are not all-knowing. They do not know that the Sufis know. For we cloak all things." He raised his eyes to the outside, and his eyes blazed.

"I will not lie to you. It would be wise to leave now. But I will not patronize you, either. If you still wish to reach the forsaken minaret, I will be there. And perhaps others will be along, as well." He smiled again, a bit warmer this time. "Your choice, Miss."

If Callista had been staring oddly at Masters when he approached her, the look she was giving this other man was one of incredulity. Several times as he spoke, she opened her mouth to interject, but nothing came out, not a single sound. Instead, she settled for glaring at him, until he finally came to a pause in his speech.

“I do not know who you are, and I do not know who that other man was.” She shuddered as his dead image appeared in her vision. “”What I do know, is that I am going on this trip, it is arranged, and there is nothing on this earth that is going to stop me.” She huffed dramatically.

“Now, if you and your friends, and anyone else have a problem with that, then…” She smiled sweetly. “Well, I don’t think I have to tell you, do I? You look like an intelligent man. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a guide to find.” Callista was not someone who liked to be told what she could and could not do, especially not by strangers.

"Certainly, I can make time for you to meet him." Ali-Basr answered Tara, making a note. "The Expedition leader also wanted to meet you when you arrived." He thought about this for a moment, and then frowned. "He seemed confident you would be coming, too. Strange fellow, I think he's from Africa. Called himself Al-Ghuraab."

There was a couple of moments where the Curator fumbled in his desk for some papers. "According to the initial report, some superstitious pilots called it 'Irem'. Others say that while they have heard of it, they don't think there is any name for it. That statue was found in the town, as I say."

The Sufi grinned. "My dear madam, I would rather face the Dreamer himself than stand in your way."

His grin grew wider, and he bowed. "As for your need for a guide, I do believe you have found him. There are things the Sufis know about the place you seek, and I know about the desert. The good man has seen fit to appoint me as a guide to this mission."

He bowed again. "Hu, at your service, ma'am."

Callista was always suspicious of strangers who approached her, especially those that suddenly asked to be her guide. “You know the place I am going?” She frowned, as she wondered if she had perhaps failed to pick up on something the tour information man had said to her. She was easily distracted if she had things on her mind, and she knew there were several parts of the conversation that she had not been paying attention to. Therefore, she assumed that the man before her was a complimentary addition to the excursion she had booked herself on.

“Well, who am I to turn down an offer of help.” She frowned slightly, wondering whether this meant she would still need the services of Ali. Pushing it from her mind, she decided that was something she could think about at a later time. “I shall look forward to seeing you at the departure site for the trip. Good day, Mr…” She just smiled as she realised she did not know his name.

Tara looked at Moran and Enuti, her eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and dread. There was something about this career that she had taken that managed to take all your emotions and pair them simultaneously with their contrast. Despite her feeling, she could not force herself to walk out of the door without discovering what was going one. The bug had bitten and she was caught.

“Professor, does the name mean anything to you?” She frowned and shook her head, as her mind shifted through a million questions. She turned back to the Curator. “What do they believe this ‘Irem’ is? Why do they think it was built, and why do they think it has never been documented?” It was this point more than anything that cause her curiosity to rise.

Moran pursed his lips, closing his eyes as he delved into the recesses of his memory. Lately, he'd been dealing with jungle mythology and associated creatures. It took him a few moments to remember myth-cycles from desert cultures. He took a breath before continuing, this was likely known to the good doctor, so his explanation was largely for Tara and Enuti's benefit.

"Irem, إرَم ذات العماد, was an ancient city from roughly 3000 BC and lasted until the first century AD. Pretty impressive, in all honesty. They made their money through trade and similar activities. For the longest time it was assumed to be purely mythical, but it does have a base in reality, aside from the relics already found.

"However, there are more sinister connections with the city. There are writings in certain… ah… 'suppressed' books that hint that the historical Irem is simply a placeholder for the true Irem, which is occasionally called 'The Nameless City'. I don't know much about The Nameless City – few people do – but it's supposed to be a dark and evil place with subhuman… things inhabiting it. Or that used to inhabit it.

"From what I've read, this is a place that is best left buried under the sand, your statue," he waved at the tentacled thing, "Only solidifies my concerns. If this city truly has become unburied, it could be a dire sign." He smirked a little, "Granted, these are all just stories and myths grown from local superstition, but you were wondering what I knew of the place." It was probably clear to Tara and Enuti that Moran most definitely considered the 'myths' to be true.

He smiled at Ali-Basr, "You have piqued my curiosity, Doctor. Despite the myth-cycles that rotate around Irem, I am still quite interested in seeing the site for myself. If for no other reason than to debunk these silly myths once and for all."

OOC: If you're getting crazy characters up there, just ignore them: it's Arabic script.

Shaking her head, Tara had not really expected the Professor to say anything else. Even knowing what was waiting out there, or what myths and legends were wrapped in the place’s history, the young woman would have been more surprised had Moran turned around and told the Curator where he could stick his ruins and had left without looking back. But from the moment that she had seen the letter, she knew that they were going out into the desert, and nothing was going to change that.

She looked at Enuti, wondering if he was feeling the same way that she was. It hardly seemed any time that they had been facing danger in the middle of a jungle, and now it seemed they were potentially going to be doing the same thing again.

Different setting, same danger, her mind repeated, over and over.

Turning, she looked back at Moran, wondering just where he would have to go before she would stop following. If this was the downside to the way she felt for him, she would gladly face any danger. And if she was honest with herself, she was almost as interested at the Professor in discovering the secret of the ruin as he was.

Enuti listened carefully to the Curator and the Professor, his mind mulling over what he heard. He knew as the Professor began his description, of course, that Moran was more knowledgeable about a great many subjects he had not realized. And he also knew immediately that they would be going to see the ruins.

Moran’s voice held an obvious enthusiasm he had learned to hate in the jungle. Hearing Moran’s mention of subhuman things, Enuti wanted to ask a question, but knew the answer would be an “I don’t know.” But he asked when Moran finished speaking anyways. “Can we kill these things conventionally, that live in the city?”

His thoughts were currently flashing through the other comments. The tentacled statue meant nothing to him, but the idea of a city becoming unburied brought faint relief. What goes up, could be brought down.

With liberal enough application of explosives. He would have to check into that before they left.

The man takes a bow. "You have found your guide, Miss. By permission of the good Doctor himself."

He grins. "Yes, I know what you seek." His blazing eyes glaze over a bit. "The city of the pillars..." He comes back to reality. "No one knows what we Sufis know, miss."

And then he smiles as she asks his name. "My name is Hu. Just...Hu."

Ali-Basr glared at Enuti for a long moment. "Creatures? There are no 'creatures'." The curator snorted and dismissed the warrior from his mind once more, returning to Moran and Tara. "You certainly understand your legends, Professor Moran."

He lit his pipe and placed it thoughtfully in his mouth. "It wouldn't do for the bearers to be...disturbed, though." The doctor said, finally. "I would be obliged if you would all keep that knowledge amongst yourselves. The desert tribes are superstitious people, and they might react unfortunately."

Finally, there was a brief pause. Doctor Yusuf Ali-Basr examined the statue and Moran, then leaned forward with his right hand. "Do we have your support, Professor?"

Callista smiled. “Well, thank you, Mr…ah, Hu.” She looked the man over for the first time, taking in his appearance. He did have that reassuring look of someone who might know the desert like the back of his hand, he also had that look that made her think that she might never make it back, having being sold to some tribe for a handful of camels.

Despite her thoughts on him, he had offered her help and she saw no real reason not to accept. “I am sure that with you there to guide me, the trip with be exciting, fulfilling and most importantly, safe.” She gave him one of her most polite smiles. “I have to run. I need to find Ali and then hopefully the hotel. I would hate to miss afternoon tea. Good day, Hu,”

Moran smiled thinly at Ali-Basr. The man was either a fool or hiding something. It was hard to tell at times, Moran had learned. The problem was that both were equally dangerous. Someone hiding the truth was probably going to use you in ways you'd rather not be used. Fools were usually very highly educated, so of course they didn't believe in silly things like the creatures and monsters that Moran had seen. Still, he'd been suckered in. If this really was the Nameless City, how could he refuse? "Of course you do. I didn't come all this way to back out." He glanced at Tara and Enuti before looking back at Ali-Basr, "When do we set out?"

She had not been expecting anything else, but as soon as Tara heard Moran put their acceptance into words, she felt her stomach sink. The events outside the restaurant had put her nerves on edge, and the talk of the myths and legends had just heightened her sense of foreboding. Not that she would back out if it had been her decision. She had been bitten by the bug. Having grown up amidst her father’s expeditions and then being schooled by Moran, she could not think of anywhere she would rather be, especially as her two closest friends were there with her.

Tara did not say a word, she was sure that the three would find a little time to discuss matters once they were away from the museum. She felt weary of strangers, especially those that seemed to know more than they were willing to share. Yes, Doctor Ali-Basr had reeled them in with talk of a ruined city and had shown them items with symbols that he seemed to know would get a reaction out of them; her own experience in the museum had shown her this.

Still, despite the horrors that might be waiting for them, there was the chance that those beings that had once haunted or been worshiped in this lost city might have been vanquished years ago by some intrepid explorer, and even though she did not believe this would be the case, she clung to it while she watched the interaction between the two men.

Ali-Basr shook Moran's hand, and gave a broad smile. "Excellent!" He laughed, all concerns leaving him. "I am so glad. Now, the question is..." He pulled out an old rolodex and flipped through it. "Now. You wanted to speak to Masters? He was staying at the old Caravanaseraei in the southern quarter last I heard news of his whereabouts." He placed some details in front of them, and flipped through it again. "The leader of the expedition is an Al-Ghuraab. You know how the tribesmen are, all naming themselves after objects and things..." He laughed weakly.

"The caravan leaves on Tuesday. Is there anything else I can help you with? Anything at all?"

Moran gave a slightly forced smile, he already had a bad feeling about Ali-Basr, but his curiosity wasn't about to let him miss out on this. Besides, if Ali-Basr was as sinister as he appeared, there might be something truly chilling brewing; something best not left to its own devices. He shook the Arab's hand, nodding, "Yes, I think speaking to Masters would be a wise idea. I'm sure he'll have something interesting to say." He made a mental note of the location, and honestly hoped that Tara or Enuti (or both) were still paying attention as he was likely to forget it before leaving the room.

He raised an eyebrow slightly, "Mmm... indeed. Of course, naming for place or occupation is hardly unique to 'natives', now is it? Still, yes, we'll be ready to leave on Tuesday. That will give us a couple days to make sure we have our selves all ready for the trip. Thank you."

Not saying a word as Moran completed his conversation with Doctor Ali-Basr, Tara stood in her slightly withdrawn position, her eyes flicking between the two men, feeling decidedly uncomfortable and wanting nothing more than to be away from that room and especially the item lying on the table, as if it were mocking them by its very existence. The symbol seemed to be staring up at them from the black stone.

Logging the information imparted by the Curator – she might have trouble getting out of bed, but her memory was most excellent – Tara shook his hand, and turned, pulling open the door. As she stepped through, she took a breath of the musty museum air, which seemed somehow so much fresher than the air in the office. It had grown oppressive and hot inside.

Waiting for the other to exit, she let her gaze travel over some of the exhibits around, wondering if any of the other pieces came from the ruined city. Just the thought sent a shiver racing over her body. For the briefest moment she wondered if they could change their mind and get onto the next plane to the Hack, but despite her misgivings, she was no more able to do so than Moran.

She gave both of her companions a smile, trying to hide her discomfort. “A couple of days should give us ample time to get ready.” She fixed her gaze on the older of the two men. “Do you want me to see if I can arrange a visit to this Masters? Or would you prefer to just appear on his doorstep unannounced, so he has no time to react?”

The man snapped out of a brief reverie. "Tea. Yes. Very well. Goodbye, Miss....?" The man who looked like he had been chiseled out of sandstone waited, smiling good-naturedly.

“Montgomery. Miss Callista Montgomery.” Despite her concerns, she gave Hu a smile and turned, heading back off into the streets in search of not only her guide but her hotel too. She knew the rough location, but along the way, looking at interesting sights and other items that distracted her attention, she roughly knew that it was in ‘that’ direction.

Having wandered around aimlessly for more time than she would have liked to admit, Callista finally came upon some familiar landmarks, and although she did not bump into Ali, she finally came across her hotel. Taking off her scarf as she entered the building, she was grateful to be out of the heat. She walked over to the reception and picked up her key, asking whether her guide had returned. Being informed that he had not, she made her way up to her room.

Entering, she walked over to the bed, and placed her belongings down upon it, before moving over to the mirror and looking at her appearance, not surprised but still disappointed that she was looking more than a little dusty. It was the one thing that she hated about deserts; the sand seemed to get everywhere. Sighing, she quickly took herself to the shower.

An hour later, Callista entered the lounge, where she ordered herself an afternoon tea with a cake to cheer herself up, and watched as the other guests hustle and bustled in and out of the hotel. Her thoughts were miles away, already imagining the trip that she was about to embark on.

The Sufi simply nodded, watching as Miss Callista Montgomery faded into the background.

From there, he exited the town, not in a hurry, not in a rush, watching the Sun carefully. A secluded spot was all he sought. And then he found one, a blend of sand and old buildings, and stood carefully in a spot in the center. He had fasted for several hours, to demonstrate the utter control the mind held over the body, the spiritual over the material. This was the custom, you always fasted before you began.

Then, carefully, he set down his staff and placed his hands across his shoulders. As is customary. He rose on his left foot, extended his right arm upwards, left arm down. A pillar for a city of pillars. Then he used his right foot to spin, to whirl, to turn, to rotate in short twists, driven by the right foot but always anchored by the Pillar of the left, counter-clockwise, always faster, always quicker.

His body became soft, like a feather, twirling in the wind. Gradually his eyes began to lose their focus, and he recounted the words of a long-gone Master. Your eyes must lose their control, for they imprison your vision. You cannot see with them.

The world began to blur, to meld into one being, one vast sweep of existence. But it flowed, currents of existence, flowing and blurred and melded into one thing. Patterns in the chaos. And then the Sufi named Hu caught but a glimpse of the vastness of the Sufi concept he had been named after, the vast Unmanifested Absolute, the Hu of the Sufis, the Brahman of the Hindus, the Dao of the immortals in China, Wakan Tanka of the Lakota, Dainichi-Nyorai, Bythos, and countless other names besides.

But only the most skilled of whirlers saw what Hu saw. Saw your own being meld into the flowing, blurred currents of infinity. And it said: You are not unique. You are a drop of water separated from a vast ocean.

And this ripping of one's sense of identity was frightening.

This cosmic infinite had another name. Another title. Hu had found its meaning, it meant the Unification of Souls. He dared not speak the word aloud, but the Wise knew there was malevolence behind the universal mind. He is the gate. He is the key and guardian of the gate. All are one in Him...Ia!

But no. One must not even think of that name.

Then Hu fell, as all did eventually. None could whirl as fast as he and maintain their balance, but finally he fell. Soft as silk, light as a feather he fell.

He remained on his stomach for some time afterwards, pressed to the Earth, still driving off the cold terror the loss of identity brings, as Sufis had lain for centuries on end. He was quiet, and it would seem as if he was dead. There he lay until the morning.

As Enuti, Moran and Tara stepped back into the harsh desert sun the wind picked up suddenly, sand blowing through the air and twisting in eldritch shapes. The streets cleared of people, including the police, who had decided that since the site was going to be damaged anyway, they might as well pull Masters's body into a slightly more comfortable location for them.

Thus, there was no one but the three researchers to see the tall black shape loom forth from the sand and study Moran. "Greetings," The man --if indeed it was a man-- said in a deep and warm baritone, "friends. Would I be correct in assuming that you would be joining the expedition?" He made no move to shake hands, instead inclining his head very slightly to Moran, a knowing look flashing deep in his eyes. "I am Al-Ghuraab."

The man, unusually for one which Ali-Basr had dismissed as 'a simple tribesman', spoke educated English. But there was an unmistakable feeling of antiquity about him...

Moran regarded the man cooly. There was something that wasn't quite right about the man, something that made him uneasy. He shoved his concerns aside for now, simple paranoia wasn't enough to cause extreme concern about Al-Ghuraab. As such, he simply nodded, "Yes, we are. I am Professor Daniel Moran, and these are my companions: Tara Craven and Enuti." He indicated each as he said their name, making no motion to touch the 'tribesman'. "I understand you'll be leading this trip, correct?"

As he talked to the man, he found himself shifting over slightly, interposing himself between Al-Ghuraab and Tara, a subtle protective gesture. "The plan is still to leave Tuesday, yes? Where should we meet you then?"

Tara was beginning to find the day a little unnerving. First there was the incident at the café, then the meeting with Doctor Ali-Basr and seeing that symbol that did not bode well, and now another stranger cornering them in the street, even if he was the man that was leading the expedition. There was something strange about the sequence of events, made even more intimidating by the fact that they had not even left the town and already they were getting hassles.

Like Moran, there was something about the man before them that seemed distinctly odd, not that she could put her finger on what it was exactly. She smiled slightly as she watched the Professor move slightly in front of her, to protect her from whatever he thought she needed protecting from. The action did make her feel strangely more at ease.

She listened intently to the conversation, knowing that she would have to remember the details imparted to them, as the Professor would likely forget what was said minutes down the road.

As for Enuti, he did not study the man, despite his oddness. He did not try to figure what about him was odd, or whether he was even human, or if he had actually caused the storm he seemed to arrive out of, or anything of that nature.

Well, he did study the man, in a way, deciding the best place to put a bullet through him if it became suddenly required. His slightly crouched fighting stance put his hand conveniently close to his holstered pistol, which, due to recent events, both here and in a jungle far away, he could draw rapidly.

Very much so, in fact. But he did not, of course. Maybe the man was just off from too much time in the desert, or something. Enuti had never met a desert man, before, and so, he listened, refraining from questions and comments, silently observing with a quiet dislike and grudging respect whispered in the back of his pitch black eyes.

OOC: I'd like to reassure all of you that I haven't forgotten about this thread and that I am working on a post. It's just that I have a plethora of other threads to post in and I, unlike most of you, (not that I'm bitter or anything) still have homework to get through.

Once the man had answered the professor’s questions, he seemed to disappear as quickly as he appeared, almost as if he vanished into the very sands around them. The street was once more empty, other than the three of them, having been emptied of others by the shootings earlier. Slowly people were beginning to emerge, as if they had been kept away by the mysterious Al-Ghuraab.

Tara stared in the direction the man had left, a frown marring her features. “This day just seems to be getting more and more freaky.” She turned and looked at Moran. “It’s almost like something is telling us to stay away” She emphasised the last two words with a mimic of a scary voice often used in old television programmes.

Shaking her head, she grinned. “And unfortunately,” she looked at Enuti with that knowing look in her eyes. “These people don’t realise the more you tell the Professor to stay away, the more likely he is to go running in, full throttle.” She laughed as she looked back at Moran.

“I think we should get back to the hotel, before anything else happens.” She let her eyes wander around the street, as if looking for any signs of more weirdness to come. “And I might not step outside again until Tuesday.” She gave Moran a playful wink and turned towards the direction of the hotel, grinning.


[ooc: with permission from Roania, I'm moving on the story]

Moran laughed at Tara's comment, "Well, I can't help it if I'm a stubborn old goat. Besides just because our guide is a creepy bastard who looks like he'd kill us in our sleep given the opportunity doesn't mean I don't want to see what's out there. If anything, I view it as encouragement." He grinned at Enuti and Tara, mocking a face of shocked innocence, "Aren't you two intregued?"

Tara's comment could very well have gone by as completely innocent were it not for the wink she gave him. The phrase 'making up for lost time' sprang into his head and he coughed slightly, "There's something to be said for that plan..." He gave Enuti a weak smile and a shrug as she walked off, following her back to the hotel. When given an offer like that, who was he to say 'no'? Besides, there was likely to be far fewer such opportunities once they left. He chuckled and whispered softly to himself, "Ah, youth," as he walked down the street.

Reaching the hotel, the three headed for the reception desk to pick up their keys, and then made their way up to their rooms. Standing outside the door to the Professor’s room, Tara stopped and looked between the two men. “Joking aside, I really have a bad feeling about this trip. And as much as I want to go and see what all this fuss is about this lost city, we really do need to be careful.”

She looked at Enuti and gave him a smile. “I feel so much better knowing that you are here too. Looking after the Professor on my own is hard work.” She laughed lightly, and gave Moran a look which revealed she had slipped away from being serious, at least for a moment. “We need to make sure that we are ready for anything, and more than anything, that includes watching our backs with ole Al-Grubgrub, or whatever his name is.”

Turning her attention to Moran, she frowned. “I thought the gunmen and Doctor Ali-Basr were something to be wary of, but this expedition leader, he really doesn’t look safe.” She shivered at the thought of him, even in the warmth of the hotel. “We really are going to have to watch our backs.”

Moran smiled reassuringly and nodded, "Well, yes. He's certainly a shifty character, but I can't just let this go. If he's harmless and weird, we have nothing to worry about. If he's hiding something, that something could very well be disasterous. I don't want to sound like a raving loony or a zealous madman, but there are nasty things out there; you both know it as well as I do. I'd rather not just let it do whatever it wants."

He chuckled at Tara's teasing, pretending to look hurt, "At least I can wake up on time. Next time I'll just use icewater to get you up." He laughed as she mangled their guide's name, shaking his head, "Great... now I'll never pronounce it right again." He smiled, "But, you know me. I trust him, and the 'good' doctor, about as far as I can throw them. I'll be alert."

As she shivered, he made a movement to comfort her before stopping and smiling nerviously. He was pretty sure that Enuti knew about their relationship, but he still wasn't comfortable with removing all doubt for some reason, possibly because it was still new. And possibly because of how it all came about. He opted for another nod, "We'll have to split watches carefully when we're out. One of us should be up at all times, regardless of who else in part of our group. If 'Al-Grubgrub' takes a watch, I'll stay up with him." He didn't say it, but it was obviously because he viewed himself more protected, spiritually, against any such attack than the others. "And I'll watch him just as much as the perimeter."

Enuti shrugged lazily. He knew what he had to do, and he absently fingered burned pieces of metal hanging around his neck to remind him of the dangers of judging too early. “Of course we’ll keep an eye on Al-Ghuraab, along with any others who set out with us. More especially, I’ll keep an eye on them. You two are the experts on demons, though, so you had better worry about those a little more, if that’s what we’re expected to find in this city of the good Doctor’s.”

The corners of his mouth twitched up slowly, almost unwillingly. “As for throwing them, Professor, I’m not sure I want to be that close. I’ll trust them as long as they’re still in rifle range.” He sighed heavily, and suddenly looked far more tired than he had a moment before, running his eyes over Tara as she held her key. “Please, Miss Craven, try to keep track of your key rather than having the hotel hold it for you. It’s much safer.”

Looking as if he was fighting back a yawn, he produced his own key. “If you two go anywhere, wake me up. I’m going to use the bed I, unlike some people, had no chance to test last night, since someone can’t stay in one country for more than a week unless he’s lost in the jungle, it appears.” He gave the Professor a mock glare, then vanished into a room two doors down from the Professor’s, in the opposite direction of Tara’s.

Tara turned back to Moran and laughed as Enuti disappeared into his room, leaving the two of them in the hallway. “It seems it is not your day, Professor. First the shootings, then the weird people, and then you get moan at by both Enuti and me.” She raised her hand to his cheek, gently sliding her fingers, caressing his skin. “I wonder if I can do anything to improve things for you.” She smiled, and took hold of his hand.

Unlocking her door, she pulled him inside, and led him over to the bed. As she faced him, her eyes found his and gazed into them. “Whatever happens, the three of us will be able to deal with it, I have every belief in you and Enuti. I feel like a very lucky woman, and I feel I’m about to get even luckier.”

Moran smirked at Enuti, "I had been hoping to enjoy some time at home before heading out again, but who can resist the lure of an ancient city rising up from the sands of the desert like some cyclopean horror from beyond?" He blinked, "Okay, well, a sane person could I suppose, but you get the point." He chuckled, "Besides, I've got to keep you on your toes."

Turning serious, he shook Enuti's hand firmly, "Thank you for coming with. I really does mean a lot to me, and we'll be sure to let you know if we head out somewhere." He smiled, "You've got our numbers, call one of us if you need anything." Noticing the look in Enuti's eyes, he shrugged helplessly as if to say I can pretend we're using both rooms, can't I?

After Entui vanished into his room, Moran smiled at Tara, "Oh, I'm sure you can think of... urk!" The end of his comment cut off as she firmly yanked him into the room. He chuckled a little, the smouldering look on her eyes unmistakable, "Well, I am an old man... but I think I can oblige you..."

As he pushed her to the bed, he laughed softly, "'If we go anywhere'... yeah, right..."


Sunday Night / Monday Morning, Around 3 am

"Yes, yes, it'll just be a minute, hon." Moran grinned as he slunk down the hallway of the hotel, ice bucket in hand. They had ordered a few bottles of wine from room service (and wouldn't that be a fun expense to try and explain to the university?) and the still full bottle was in danger of getting warm. After a brief conversation and an odd 'contest' that he still didn't understand, Tara had given him the bucket and shoo'd him out to fetch ice.

Normally, walking around in a bathrobe with a bucket was something that he'd never consider doing; however, the combination of the fact that it was so early (well, late for him), and Tara's 'persuasive' talents meant he was here. Wandering the hallways, half lost, looking for the blasted ice machine.

Callista was humming to herself, which was one stage better than she would have been if she had been drinking more than the couple of glasses. A group of tourists had begun comparing notes about their trips down in the hotel bar, and despite the drinks ceasing several hours ago, the conversations had continued on, as each person tried to outdo the other with their tales, until eventually several had nodded off in their chairs, while others, like Callista, took the hint and headed off to their bedrooms.

Walking down the hallway, her head bowed down over her bag as she searched for her keys, Callista almost collided with someone coming the other way. Picking up the key, that had fallen out of her hand at the near miss, she slowly rose from the ground, her eyes travelling over the man’s attire, his robe, the ice bucket, until she was standing upright, and looking directly into the man’s face.

“Professor Moran? Professor Daniel Moran?” Callista’s voice rose with excitement as his face registered in her mind. “Wow, this is amazing. I mean…well, I never thought to meet you, let alone in a hotel in the middle of the night.” She shook Moran’s hand. “I’ve just finished reading your book, and I’ve read so much about you. This is a surprise.”

She stopped speaking suddenly, and just stared; blinking several times as if she was waiting for him to tell her she was imagining him.

Moran let out an indignant squawk as he nearly collided with the young woman. He tried not to wonder why on earth she would be wandering about at 3am (not like he had much of an excuse, after all), unfortunately, this meant the he focused on how he was dressed. Or, more specifically, not dressed. While he was wearing a robe, and while he had tied it closed, it still wasn't particularly dignified.

Shifting the ice bucket to his left hand he absentminded shook her hand, more as an ingrained social responce than anything. "Er, well, yes... I am." He found himself on even less enjoyable footing, but was relieved when she revealed that she knew him by name, not that she was someone that he should know. "I'm... well, I'm glad you liked it... ah... Miss...?"

The wind blew. And with it came the moans, the dismal sounds of the damned. At least, to those which were sensitive to hearing such.

Ali-Basr flipped through his folodex, clearly trying to find information about the hideous statuette that had been delivered to him. Monsters. Poppycock. Basr was a rationalist, a man who, while in public professed to believe, even said the Shahadda. But he didn't really believe in anything that he couldn't see or feel or hear. And this was a nuisance. Pre-Islamic, certainly.

He turned it over in his hands and stared at it for a moment. That's odd, this looks like it's been ground into the dirt... He thought for a moment, and might have actually reached a conclusion had not the wind chosen that moment to blow his window open. Inshallah. And with that, he put the statue out of his mind, and went to close it.

“Montgomery. Callista Montgomery.” She beamed happily, a mix of excitement and alcohol buoying her spirits. “Who would have thought that I would meet Professor Moran in the middle of the night, dressed in a robe and carrying an ice bucket?” She chuckled lightly to herself at the irony of meeting someone she considered a worthy celebratory. “Your work has inspired me to look more closely at the things around me. I look for adventure, the chance to experience a little of the excitement that your book reveals there to be in the world.”

She let her eyes move over the professor, bringing them back to his face, a pleasant smile lighting up her face. “What brings you out here, if is not a secret? Are you exploring the ruins? I visited the most interesting old building – if you could call it a building - the other day, said to be the ancient tomb of…oh, well, the name isn’t important.” She rambled on, oblivious to his discomfort.

His mind reeled a little, trying to figure out if he was supposed to recognize this woman's name. He was reasonably sure that she was just someone who liked his books (a groupie?!) and who was a little too wrapped up in the moment to realize that he clearly wasn't in the mood to be talking to her, or much of anyone for that matter. After all, he had a young and beautiful woman waiting for him back in his room; someone who had promised 'interesting' uses for the ice aside from just chilling the wine.

He quickly realised that this was not a good venue to consider as while the robe protected his dignity, it wasn't fool proof, as it were. Thus he found himself trying to focus on what Callista was saying (as opposed to her appearance, which he was starting to notice, much to his chagrin), while trying to remember what he wrote in the books she was talking about. It was a bit of mental juggling, but it kept him on track, and less likely to make a fool out of himself.

His head started to roll slightly as he tried to keep up with what she was saying, eventually clearing his throat, "Ah, yes. May I? Good. It's not a secret; I'm here to look at 'the ruins'; I believe you mean the Tomb of Arakan'Esh; no; sometimes; no; no; occationally; Nephren-Kah; yes; you'd be better off not knowing; 100% true; rum; no; sometimes; a knife; Chiba City University; $14.95; no; yes; yes; I've never heard of it; 18; no; a cat; the Sign of Kish; Pepsi; and silver," he ticked off each thing with his fingers as he answered her questions without context, taking something of a dramatic breath afterwards, "Did I miss any?"

Callista let out a loud laugh, and clapped her hands enthusiastically. “I think you got everything, though to be honest, I couldn’t even tell you what I asked.” She let her chuckling die down until she was merely smiling, her hand running through her hair, trying to make it look more presentable. “I really hope I get the chance to talk to you before I leave, I’ve booked myself on this desert tour to somewhere. Exciting isn’t it? Although, I have to admit the information guide was totally worthless.” She failed to notice Moran’s desire to leave.

“I wish I had my book, it would be so good if you could sign it, but then, I guess I can catch you with it later.” She gave him a warm smile, her eyes once more flicking over his attire, and noticing that the professor was in very good shape, better than she had imagined from the picture on the book jacket. “Your photo does you little justice.”

* * * * *

Tara lay in the bed, looking at the door, waiting for Moran to return. She smiled to herself as she wondered whether he had managed to get lost on the way to the ice machine. She would give him a few more minutes and then go out searching for him.

When the door behind Callista opened, through it stepped a tall, dark man, dressed in clothing that only emphasized the power and grace of his frame. Dark eyes beneath dark brows and closely shorn black hair took in the scene before him, and to Moran, who knew him, perhaps, the slight surprise in them could be seen.

Black clothing that would have blended well into the night encased the dark skin of the man, and nearly hid the weapons that adorned him in multiple places, but the gleaming lights of the hallway revealed the metal where it shone. The eyes, cold and uncaring, traveled across the young woman, all the senses taking in her current state of slight inebriation, her position overly close the Professor and her apparent excitement.

“Good morning, Professor, Miss.” Why is he talking to this strange woman in the hallway at three in the morning? Eyes finally fell on the ice bucket as he looked over the attractive young lady’s shoulder. “I believe the ice machine is the other direction, Professor.” His eyes raised up to the sign on the wall that Moran was standing beside, oblivious to.

“Shouldn’t you get it and return to Miss Craven in your room…s?” Enuti asked, the plural added as an afterthought, recalling the two refusing to confirm they were in fact sleeping with each other.

Startled slightly by the voice of the second man standing behind her, Callista spun on her heels and looked at the newcomer, not feeling at all comfortable in his presence. “G…good morning,” she stammered feeling slightly better when she realised that the professor knew him, though it did not improve things too much. “It’s a pleasure…” Her wide eyes taking in his appearance, which did nothing but instil a little nervousness in her voice, she gave him a little smile.

Turning back to Moran, she smiled, her features relaxing slightly. “Well, I really should not keep you from your bed.” She flicked her eyes over his attire, as if realising for the first time what he was wearing. “It’s awful waking up in the night and not having any ice for your drink, isn’t it?” Her eyes moved between the two men. “It was good to meet you, Professor Moran. I hope I get a chance to get that booked signed.” She looked at the other man. “And it was nice to meet you too, Mr…” She smiled, and taking several steps backwards, she turned and headed off to her room.

* * * * *

Almost as if disturbed by the noise, Tara slipped off the bed, pulling the sheet around her body like a toga. Walking over to the door, careful not to trip herself up, she poked her head out. “Daniel, have you got the ice yet? The bed is getting very lonely without…” Her eyes fixed on the professor and their friend. “Oh, hello, Enuti…” She looked at Moran and blushed. “I’ll…ah…” She pointed inside the room. “Goodnight, Enuti,” she said as she disappeared back through the door, leaving the two men in the corridor.

Moran looked almost comical as he tried to respond to Callista only to be interrupted by Enuti; trying to respond to Enuti, only to be interrupted by Callista; and trying to explain to her only to have her vanish into her room and for Tara to pop out and then pop back. He looked at the bucket and then lamely up at Enuti, "I..." He paused, "I'll just get the ice then..." He spun quickly and walked quickly to the ice machine and filled the bucket before slinking back into his room.

He set the bucket down, wrapping the wine bottle in a towel and shoving it into the bucket. He smiled at Tara, still a little bewildered at just what the Hell had happened over the past few minutes; he always seemed to be the last to understand what was going on, "Bumped into a fan, aparently... sorry about that."

Standing beside the bed, still wrapped in the sheet as Moran entered, Tara smiled and watched as he prepared the wine. “A fan, huh? Book signings at three in the morning? You will get a reputation, Professor.” She moved over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, the movement causing the sheet to slip from her body. “Now, where were we?” She winked as she pressed a kiss to his lips, before pulling him back onto the bed. “Ah yes, ice…”

* * * * *

The sun seemed to be in a foul mood the following day, or so it felt to Tara as she opened her eyes and blinked against the light that was flooding into the room. Her body ached, not surprisingly. A moan slipped from her lips as she moved, her hand finding an empty space beside her, as usual. She really was going to have to get the Professor used to lying in. Sitting up in the bed, her eyes finally focusing on the room, she stretched her body, and yawned sleepily.

“Daniel?” She called out, as she turned in the bed, until her feet were resting on the floor. Standing, she grabbed a t-shirt and slipped it on, and wandered through to the adjoining room, her eyes flicking for signs of Moran. “Professor?” She laughed lightly, as she spotted the clock, which was still showing a time considered very early for her. Heading through to her own room, the bed immaculately made as it had been since they arrived, she rummaged through some drawers grabbing some clothing before hitting the shower.

Tuesday

The wind blew into the city from the sands of the desert.

And in front of the museum, a gathering was taking place. Porters and guards and guides jostled and fought, struggling to put together all the tools they'd need. "We need at least another 5 gallons of water!

"Where is that son of a camel, Najaf? There he is! You kafar! Get your packs ready!"

"Who are you calling a Kafar, you son of a dog?"

Witnessing all of this with a general amiable befuddlement, Doctor Yusuf Ali-Basr floated through the crowd, a space always being found for him to move through. "Mind that camel!"

And then the constables had come up to him. They had been wondering if he had any idea who might have had a grudge against "Masters? Oh, he was a rat of the desert. All sorts of people. Maybe a gambling debt or something. Anyway, I'm a tad busy right now, officer. Come to my office in a few hours, once the caravan has left."

And then he had gone off again, checking maps and petroleum supplies for the journey, making sure budgeting had been taken care of, and just generally getting in the way. And he had never been happier, either.

((Feel free to have your characters rock up to the museum anytime, if you want to finish what you're doing.))

Moran smiled as Tara stepped out from the shower, drying herself off, "And you say I'm oblivious... you walked right past me when you woke up." He grinned playfully, "Of course, I'm sure you were disoriented, what with the sun in the east and all..." He chuckled lightly at her indignant look.

He was sitting at the little desk/table that had been provided with the room. Off to one side was a room service cart (something they had grown quite familiar with) with the empty plates from his breakfast, as well as a few covered dishes that were obviously ordered for Tara.

On the desk, was a series of books, papers, and what looked like a scroll of some sort. He was holding a largish book in one had that he seemed to be referencing. He waved the book a little, "I'm not up on my Akkadian, you know, so I need to crib a little." He set the book down and smiled at her, "I thought you'd be sleeping later, so I decided to do some research..." He chuckled, turning to face her, "Sleep well, hon?"

Tara smiled and walked over to where the Professor was sitting. Moving his arm, she sat down on his leg, and pressed a kiss to his lips, her hand gently cupping his cheek. “I don’t remember ever sleeping this well.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and turned slightly from him, her gaze fixing on the book in his hand. “Do you think this is going to be necessary reading?” Her brow furrowed as she read a little of the page he was on, her free hand playing lightly over his thigh.

As if she finally drawn to the sent of food, her stomach gave a little growl indicating a desire for some food. “Mmm, breakfast.” She looked back into Moran’s eyes and grinned. “I don’t know what I ever did without you.” She kissed him again, and slipped off his lap, the towel she was wearing sliding up her body, revealing more of her legs, if possible. “I am starving.” She lifted up the first lid and biting her lower lip, picked up a sausage in her fingers and took a slow bite.

Once she had swallowed, she looked back at the Professor. “What time are we off? And have you called Enuti to make sure he’s ready.” She frowned suddenly. “Oh, I’d better make sure we have everything we need.” She turned away as if to start organising her bags, then stopped and looked back at him. “I really should get dressed first.”

Moran wrapped his arm around her waist comfortably returning the kiss and chuckling softly as he glanced at the cuniform-covered scroll, "Well, hopefully not. It's a rather disturbing story about a screaming monster with no skin that was supposedly worshipped in that area ages ago. I'm rather hoping that our site isn't connected, as the Screaming Man isn't a very pleasant character, as you might expect." He grinned, "You know me, just some light reading."

He smiled as she hopped off his lap, "Ate horrible food on the run, if I recall properly..." He rotated in his chair as she went to the cart, "Should still be warm, it wasn't too long ago that I ordered."

He laughed as she tried to do several things at once, calmly pointing to the cart, "Go ahead and eat Tara. Enuti is quite capable of getting himself ready on time, I should think. Also, most of our stuff is ready. These rooms are reserved for the duration of our trip, so my 'light reading' can just go in the room safe." He pointed vaguely to one of the largely undisturbed pillows, where his gun rested in its thigh holster, gleaming in the faint light. Next to it was Tara's gun, also in its holster. "I took the liberty of cleaning and oiling our guns already, so you've got plenty of time to get ready." He grinned, "So, please. Take your time."

He was never one to sleep much period, let alone right before an expedition. He had only slept for about two hours, but was perfectly alert, part of why he was able to get all of their things together, clean three firearms (his .22 was already in its ankle holster), order and eat breakfast, and spend time on leasure study while waiting for his lover to wake up. While this sort of thing (on an individual scale) was normal for him, the fact that Tara would be able to spend more time in little more than a towel certainly didn't evade his calculations.

Grabbing the plate properly, Tara walked over to the bed, and perched herself on the edge as she picked at some sausages and bacon. “Why can people never worship nice things? Who would want a cult based around a screaming man? Why not the Cult of the Softly Murmuring Man or something?” She laughed, and relaxed, knowing that everything was in hand. The Professor might appear flustered and oblivious at times, but he was focused when it was matter. She grinned as a thought of the previous night came to mind.

Finishing breakfast, getting dressed and gathering her things together, some thirty minutes or so later, Tara was looking at Moran, both ready for the off. Groaning slightly, she looked sadly at the bed, knowing they would probably not have such luxury for the rest of the trip. “I guess it’s back to calling you Professor, Daniel.” She smiled, as she walked over to him, and looped her arm around him, pulling him into a passionate kiss. “I am going to miss that.”

Letting her arm fall from his body, she grabbed her bag, and flung it over her shoulder. Her gun was securely attached to her body, and hidden under the open shirt she wore over the top of a white t-shirt. Her shorts came half way down her thighs and were loose fitting. On her feet she wore a pair of hiking boots, over a pair of shoes with poked out a little from the top of her footwear. Her dusty blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which was almost obscured by her hat. She put on a pair of blue tinged sunglasses that hid her blueness of her eyes.

* * * * *

Ali struggled ahead of her, carrying a matching bag to the trunk that he was pulling behind him. Walking behind, in her designer clothing, made to look like someone going on safari, but which was several shades lighter than the usual colour, Callista finally reached the museum, where the party was gathering for the tour. She looked at the people milling around outside, her eyes wide as she looked over the other tourists taking the trip. She was not at all impressed with her fellow travellers.

“Just put my things down here, Ali, while I go and locate the tour guide.” She frowned as she watched the man drop her luggage heavily onto the ground. “Be careful, man, those cost more than you will make in a year.” Shaking her head, she let her eyes run around the group, trying to locate either of the two men she knew from a few days ago. The information man or the strange gentleman who had offered to be her guide.

Moran laughed, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders, "I'd make my job a lot easier." He ran his fingers through his pre-maturely-white hair, "Less likely to have nightmares about the God Of Fluffy Things That Purr, as opposed to The God Who Kills His Follows And Does Rather Less Pleasant Things To Everyone Else, after all. Then again," he thought for a moment, "When you think about it, most gods are rather nasty pieces of work. The Christian God, who's supposed to be the embodiment of love and grace is still more than willing to commit mass slaughter if needs be." He smirked, "I think apathy is the best you can hope for, really." He wasn't quite prepared to explain that he had dedicated his soul to just such an entity, but he was reasonably pleased that he had at least been chosen by a less that involved deity. Tsathoggua was nasty, to be sure, but it was just as likely to feign sleep as devour interlopers. Moran supposed that counted for something. Maybe.

He held her close, returning her passion equally. He smiled, "It's a pity, I was beginning to get used to responding to my first name." He smiled and held her close in a hug, "Don't worry, Tara, this trip won't last forever, after all." He chuckled, "And, knowing you, we won't need any fruit when we get back." Grinning playfully, he added, "Sure you'll be able to manage enforced chastity for a couple weeks?"

As it was time to finish getting ready, he safely stored the scrolls, books and things in the room's safe. Moving over to the (unused) bed, he grabbed his holster and strapped it around his right thigh; the gun barrel was too long for a hip holster, and too heavy to carry comfortably on his waist. He picked up his hand cannon, giving it a quick once-over before securing it in the holster. Granted, the 500 was designed with a shoulder holster in mind, but Moran had found that the shoulder holster resulted in draw speeds that were too slow. He had ended up purchasing a military-grade thigh holster and modified it to fit the larger gun, and dyed it black. The end result was an intimidating and almost sinister appearance, especially considering how harmless the Professor normally looked. The holster was attached over a pair of khaki pants that had Kevlar micro-weave in them; useless for stopping bullets, but handy against biting creatures and miscellaneous sharp things. He wore a loose fitting, button-down shirt and a tech-vest over that; the vest being similarly 'armored' as his pants.

He slipped on a pair of 'black ice' (http://www.peepers.com/images/sm_legend_blkice.jpg) tinted sunglasses, and hoisted up his backpack. He smiled at Tara, giving her a final kiss before they left their rooms (hanging 'Do Not Disturb' signs on the handles) and stepped outside. Pausing just outside the hotel, Moran reached into one of the pockets to his vest and pulled out a cigar. He cupped his hands around it and lit it, taking a few puffs before shrugging at Tara, "Always had one at the start of every expedition, and I've always made it home." He chuckled at himself, amused that he was subject to such a superstition, but when one deals with horrors from beyond space and time, one tended to make allowances.

“I’m sure no one here will mind,” Enuti said, materializing out of the shadows of the building, his dark eyes gleaming with humor. He was dressed in a similar style to what he had worn in the jungle, the difference being that these elements of military surplus battle dress were new, in a tan desert digital camouflage pattern. He too wore a vest and a pack, and this was the first time the other two had seen him fully be-weaponed.

A bandolier hung across his chest, a familiar, well worn machete hanging from it, knives of numerous varieties were strapped to it. A pistol rode on each thigh, both heavy calibers, another in a shoulder holster looked extremely familiar, and not his own. LG was inscribed on the grip if one looked closely. Enuti only carried one extra clip for the odd caliber weapon, though even that had been hard to find in this benighted place. There was a suspicious bulge in the top of one of Enuti’s well worn boots that signified the presence of the only revolver among Enuti’s choice of weapons. His rifle rode along his back in a sheath at the moment, and looked very difficult to pull out, but considering all the other care Enuti had taken, it was unlikely to actually be so, at least for him.

His outfit was completed by a white turban and dark wrap around sunglasses that were almost invisible against the coloring of his skin. In this place, it was probably an outfit that screamed dangerous mercenary, which was not completely inaccurate.

Only the mercenary part. “Shall we go?” he continued, once the two had time to adjust to his sudden appearance. At their acquiescence, he followed two steps behind them to the caravan waiting outside the museum. For all his appearance suggested, though, he was not as experienced as might be expected, especially not in desert travel.

A horse he could have handled.

A camel, on the other hand….

“Could someone tell me why we aren’t taking a jeep out into the middle of the desert?” he questioned abruptly, perhaps overly loudly, stopping dead in his tracks.

He had woke up in a bit of a daze, his body full of the One Sound, that all sounds are but a reflection of, his eyes full of the whirling which he had done last night, in the truest tradition of the Sufi dervishes.

And then he remembered: I have commitments. The lady who wishes to visit the City of the Pillars...

He sat up, taking his staff, still clad in the same wool cloak and clothes, and padded away from his isolated location in the city. He smiled as he looked up at the placid face of a chewing camel. "Al-Adha! So nice to see you," he said, grinning a bit. "Someone has need of us."

Across the city the camel raced, looking a bit ridiculous, especially with the odd man in dirty wool that was on top of it. Then again, Sufis were always a bit odd, weren't they? No one took much notice.

And then he met the gathering of people. His eyes traveled over them, carefully appraising each one as he dismounted the beast. There was the lady, apparently having a tough time with a servant of hers. The man named Hu only chuckled. "Hello, Miss Callista. I trust you slept well?" He then turned to the other people and nodded his head. "And to you all, my name is Hu, and I have been approved by the good Doctor as a guide and accompaniment for your trip to the Pillared City." He said the last two words softly, apparently watching to see if anyone knew of what he spoke. His wool cloak immediately identified him to anyone knowledgeable of such things as a Sufi.

Looking back at the sound of his voice, Tara looked at Enuti and laughed. “Not afraid of a little camel are you?” She took a few steps towards him and placed her hand on his arm. “If you fall off, I’ll make sure to help you back up again, I promise.” She could not stop the smile from lightening up her face, as she thought of the man before her, dress as he was, worried about riding an animal. “Come on, it’s just like riding a horse, only not.” She grinned at him, and winked.

She began walking again, pacing to catch up with Moran, while at the same time remaining behind him, acting like his faithful assistant. Her eyes flicked around the group, spotting a strangely dressed man. He seemed to be interested in conversing with one of the others in the party. Tara was pleased that she was not the only female in the group, even though the woman before her really did not seem suitable for the type of excursion they had before them. Still, she was not one to judge a book by its cover.

“It does not seem that our guide is here yet.” She spoke to Moran, having caught up and was now beside him. “And I don’t see the good doctor anywhere.” Her eyes flicked around those assembled outside. She turned to the professor and smiled. “Not long now, Dan…Professor.”

* * * * *

“Ah, Hu!” Callista smiled, finally seeing a face she recognised in the group. “I was beginning to think you had abandoned me.” She looked over at Ali, who was still struggling with her luggage, which were really too big for the trip, even if she did not know it. “It seems there is a decent sized party going on this trip. It should be fun.” Her eyes wandered around the group, until they suddenly resembled dishes.

“Oh, what fun!” She looked over at the group that had just arrived. “And what a god send.” Which god, she did not know, so she thanked as many as she could name. “Professor Moran is on the same trip.” She waved her hand at him, hoping to catch his attention. “Perfect. You and the good professor, how could a woman ask for more?”

Hu dismounted, his silent, chiseled face looking a bit bemused, taking in Professor Moran, Tara, and Enuti, appraisingly.

And Callista was talking to him. He bowed before her. "An honor, Miss Callista." He waits and listens, taking in the poor sight of Mr. Ali. He laughs ruefully. "Fun? Miss Callista, I do not wish you to think of me as..." he struggled to remember the English term, "a party pooper, or other such thing, but trust me when I tell you that there is little fun to be had where we are going. That is not to say the best should not be made of a bad situation, of course," he adds, on a more cheerful note. "And perhaps the getting-there will prove more enjoyable than the there itself." He watches as Callista waves to the Professor.

So, the scholar's name is Moran. How much does he know?

Hu smiles at Callista again. "You know this man, then? Something tells me I must speak to him at some point."

"A damn fine question," Moran murmured. "Of course, mechanical devices don't much care for sand. Maybe the good doctor is worried they might break down." He puffed on his cigar thoughtfully, trying to remember the Arabic commands for camels. It had been ages since he had been on one. Hopefully it was like learning to ride a bike: you never truly forgot.

A slow stream of smoke trailed out of his mouth as he looked over the assembled group, suddenly finding himself very pleased that Enuti was with him. Nothing against Tara, of course, but Moran had a little more confidence in Enuti's fighting ability. He was a little disappointed in the team that had agreed to go on this trip. Either the doctor had failed miserably at getting his message our, or nobody else was suicidal enough to go along.

He was thankful that the sunglasses he wore reflected enough of the sunlight to give a mirror effect as his eyes bugged out as he noticed Callista. This was her leasure trip? Didn't she realise that this was no vacation safari, this was a scientific expedition! He gave an anemic wave to Callista and Hu, sighing inwardly.

Tara, having noticed the wave that Moran gave, looked over in the direction of the recipient and frowned, before turning back to the professor. “Your groupie?” She shook her head and grinned to herself before another thought crossed her mind. “You never said she was a professional, I had assumed she was some tourist you had bumped into at the hotel.”

Dropping her things on the floor to conserve some energy, she stretched her body, not looking forward to a long sit in the saddle. She had been on a camel before, she would not have been Professor Craven’s daughter is she had not experienced some portion of the world when she was growing up, and their holidays never seemed to be simple bucket and spade events on a quiet beach.

* * * * *

Callista looked at Hu and frowned. “These trips are never really fun, but they usually turn out to be very interesting and sometimes even exciting. You know, it’s amazing how many people cannot ride a camel.” Her gaze continued to linger on the new arrivals, as she instantly recognised the other man in the group. The woman she could not place, but she recalled a female name being mentioned in the hall the other night.

“And yes, I do know that man.” She smiled, her eyes once more falling on the older of the two men. “That is Professor Moran, an explorer and adventurer and well, he is simply wonderful. I have just finished his latest book, and if he is coming on this trip, then I can only assume that it has more potential that Mr…oh, you know, the information guide at the museum.” Her eyes met Hu’s. “If you want to speak to him, I could introduce you.”

Enuti glared at Miss Craven. “Of course I’m not afraid of the camel. I would just prefer something I’d ridden before. I’m not afraid of anything after what happened last time.”

After your vision, you have no reason to be, came a voice that sounded disturbingly like one of his dead friends in his head.

SHUT UP. I have no use for pointless visions. Kindly stay out of my head. I have a job to do.

You have a destiny to fulfill.

Not if I don’t want it. Go away. The voices were silent again, and he shook his head briefly, lowering his sunglasses over his eyes. He had missed the professor speaking, but his eyes narrowed as the spotted Callista and then he heard the young blonde’s question concerning the early morning meeting. He spoke up before Moran had a chance to. “She’s not a professional, and she most assurdedly is a groupie, if what I overheard was any indication.” That revealed he had been standing on the far side of the door for some time, apparently, before coming through.

He was becoming quite the spy, or, at least, knowing things that he had no reason to know, and possessed very accurate information. No doubt it was odd to both Moran and Tara, but frankly, he saw no reason to reveal his sources yet.

They might very well save them. “She has no business on this expedition if it really is as dangerous as the Curator, the Professor, and Grubbie made it sound.” He frowned slightly, remembering how scared of him the young woman had seemed. She’s soft. I’ll be surprised if she even makes it to this lost city.

Interesting? Sure. Exciting? Possibly, but the not-so-subtle reality Hu was trying to delicately convey was that this trip would be lethal.

As for the mission's potential, Hu might possibly understand it better than any of them. Irem of the Pillars had little potential for anything but death, if not immediately then later. The newspapers would report an unlucky fall over a cliff, a case of food poisoning through bad paint, an odd disease, old age, anything, but it would not be the whole truth of the matter...

They had people everywhere. What would they find in their former center of power? Nothing good, certainly.

So why was he going? He still had many years, and not all of his Questions had been answered, so why had the man named Hu decided to go on this fool's errand to the heart of the Eagle?

Something about the innocence Callista had displayed, something there had affected him, and his mind cried out to him that to let someone that..unknowing fall so early to the talons of the Eagle would be inexcusable. Everyone deserved a chance at knowledge.

He sighed audibly. "That would be nice, Miss Callista. I should like to know very much who we are traveling with."

And what they know, and how dangerous they are...

Moran nodded with Enuti, murmuring softly, "Yes, groupie... I believe she's confused as to the point, in fact..." He sighed, taking another puff from his cigar, "At least she's likely to be harmless." He gave a weak smile and waved to Callista and the strange man she was standing next to. "So... where's the good doctor?"

Callista looked at Hu and then back to the group, before taking hold slightly of the man’s arm and guiding him over to where the professor was standing. She looked briefly over her shoulder at Ali. “Don’t lose my luggage. And stop dragging it like that, it’s get all scratched and battered.” Turning her head back she tutted loudly. “You really can’t get the help out here.” She looked up at Hu. “Of course, I didn’t mean you…you have been a blessing.”

* * * * *

Tara looked at Moran and grinned. “It looks like you’ve managed to attract her attention, Professor. She’s coming over to see you.” She rolled her eyes in a less than amused manner. The last thing she wanted was for the professor to get bothered by people who thought that reading one of his books made them an expert on him. She looked at Enuti and smiled. “Look after the Professor. I’m going to check out the rest of the group.”

* * * * *

“Professor Moran, what a pleasure to see you again.” Callista’s eyes fell briefly on the dark skinned man behind him, and the back of the retreating woman, before focusing entirely on the scholar. “You never said you were coming on this trip. But I can’t tell you how happy I was when I saw you and your party arrive.”

She smiled and indicated the man beside her. “This here is Hu, and he’s offered to be my unofficial guide for the trip.” She once more looked at Moran. “And I see you’ve brought your assistants with you. I suppose this kind of thing is a working vacation for you.” She looked over Moran’s shoulder. “I was not introduced to your friend the other evening.”

* * * * *

Tara looked back over her shoulder briefly, really not feeling in the mood to listen to the new arrival. She had seen people like her when her father was around, stopping them in the middle of places where no one should really have the slightest idea who you were. And this woman appeared to Tara to be of the worst kind, the type who wanted to dominate. Sighing, she decided to catch back up with Moran and Enuti once the doctor or GrubGrub arrived.

The wind blew harshly, and Al-Ghuraab strode out of it. As he walked past a camel it neighed and pulled away, shuddering. As the man waved his hand vaguely, it calmed down. "Good morning, Miss Craven." He said pleasantly as he walked past her, striding for the Professor as Ali-Basr bustled happily around the corner, carrying a large list of provisions. "Salaam Alaichem, Doctor Basr. What a pleasant surprise."

The Doctor nearly leapt into the air, a nervous smile flashing across his face. "Ah! Aleichum Salaam, Ghuraab." He said, his eyes flickering between the desert traveller and the Professor. "And you, Professor Moran. Have the two of you..."

"We have been introduced." Al-Ghuraab was dressed once more in the black bernouse, his eyes shrouded in shadow. "It is indeed a pleasure for us all to be gathered here, and may the Lord bless this journey through the waste."

"Allah be praised..." Ali-Basr managed, though he wasn't quite sure what the reference to 'the lord' meant. Maybe Al-Ghuraab was a bedouin Christian? It was a matter for another day. Still. "Gather around, gather around, all of you!" He said loudly, gesturing for everyone there to join him.

Moran smiled wryly at Tara, "So it seems. Lucky me." He put his cigar in his mouth, partially to make his face harder to read and walked up to Callista, giving a slight shrug, "I didn't realize this was the trip you were refering to the other night." He glanced at Hu, sizing the man up mentally, before looking back at Callista, "Yes, well, you vanished rather too quickly to give me a chance." He indicated Enuti, "This is Enuti, a good friend who was most helpful on my last trip." He smiled over at Tara as she walked up, "And this is Tara Craven, who also helped me live through my last trip. And the one before, too."

He glanced over as the two principals walked up, "Ah, I see they've finally arrived." He motioned Basr over, "Is this the whole group, Doctor Basr? If so, we should probably get moving, don't you think?"

Hu bowed again. "An honor to meet you, Professor, Enuti, Miss Tara," he says, nodding to each one in turn. "I must admit, I find myself at a disadvantage. An upbringing in the desert teaches much, but not of the exploits and scholarly pursuits of reknowned adventurers of our day." He leans on his staff, carefully noting every nuance and detail, Enuti's weaponry not-withstanding.

He looks pointedly at Professor Moran now. "We will need such men where we are going."

The wind blows, a camel neighs. Hu's eyes swivel, and meet the black-robed man and the Doctor he had met earlier, the foolish Doctor who, against all advice, was still organizing the expedition. He has not seen Al-Ghuraab before, but the name strikes a chord. The Alams...

What does it mean?

He carefully takes something out of the folds his wool cloak and begins chewing it, his face a perfect picture of neutrality, and walks up. "Doctor, so nice to see you again. And I do not believe I have yet had the pleasure of meeting your friend?" There is no friendly tone, but neither is there a malevolent one.

At the suggestion that they get moving, he sighs inwardly. Despite everything, he does not wish to march off to Irem, and perhaps never come back. But this latest bit of information hits an urgent note. I must get a chance to speak to this scholar when the robed one is away.

When the Professor introduced him, Enuti smiled tightly below his sunglasses, his face nearly impossible to read with the access of the windows of his soul blocked by the dark, shatterproof plastic. “A pleasure to be properly introduced to you, Lady Montgomery.”

Again with the name dropping. Something was decidedly odd about Enuti’s base of knowledge. “As I’ll once more be living in a Westernized culture from now on, I’ll use the name I have used before, Enuti Albert Laurent.” The French pronunciation revealed a decided skill with languages. He turned his head fractionally to take in Hu as well, at least, his sunglasses appeared to. “You may both call me Enuti, of course. I fear formality will be of little use where we are going, if it is anything like the last trip.”

Behind the black shades, his eyes darkened still further with remembrance, the barest hint of that emotion slipping into his voice. “As you’ve read the Professor’s books, Lady Montgomery, I’ll assume you’re both armed and know how to use it.” He looked them up and down for evidence of said weaponry, his head inclining fractionally.

As Grubbie and Basr talked to Moran, or more, the Professor talked to them, he looked over Callista’s shoulder and nodded the tiniest amount while everyone’s attention was on the main group. If anyone noticed, there was no one there to be seen, if they chose to look, and the motion seemed to be purely incidental.

He still could not believe they expected him to ride a camel. Contrary looking beast it was.

Callista stared at Enuti for a moment, blinking with confusion as he mentioned weapons. She assumed that wherever the man came from, he was obviously unused to polite society. She did not see any need to carry any kind to weapon on a sightseeing trip, the natives could be barbaric but she had yet to meet one that had come close to ripping out her throat, and looking at the people on the trip, she did not think it was going to be any different this time.

“I’m sure I have more than enough protection, and I know that if anything bad were to happen on this trip, then the good Professor will be more than capable of saving us.” She smiled up at Enuti, before her eyes feel on the female member of the team. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Craven. It must be an honour for you and Mr Enuti to be able to work with such a great man.”

Tara smiled awkwardly. “Yes, I am most fortunately. I could not have been more privileged to have had the Professor as a mentor and a friend.” She turned to Moran and winked, which was not seen my Lady Montgomery. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just make sure all our belongings are ready for the off.” She walked past Enuti and grinned. Lowering her voice she said, “I’ll make sure you get the best behaved camel.”

Watching as she walked away, Callista looked at the new arrivals and greeted the information man and the other, who had a very unpleasant look about him. “Ah, it is a pleasure to meet you both.” Suddenly her voice rang out. “Ali! What did I tell you about my luggage? Huh! You really can’t get the help nowadays.”

"Armed?" Hu looked contemplative for a second. "Oh, guns." He laughed, pulling out a small, unadorned knife and flipping and catching it expertly. "No, Mr. Enuti, other than my staff and this knife, I carry no weapons. I wonder if you think, sir, that a bullet will do you any good against those that rest beyond the Alams."

Hu waited a second, then spoke again. "But one learns things, when one travels. Perhaps you are familiar with Muay Thai? Or perhaps the Northern traditions of Chinese gun, for the staff?" He held out his staff, and one could see that it was weighted perfectly. It was hard to tell under the wool clothing, but underneath the suf lay a body trained to deal with all sorts of things, from bandits to those more sinister.

"But, Mr. Enuti, I do not doubt the effectiveness of your firearms. All the hand-to-hand training in the world is useless if your opponent is at twenty feet with a gun. I simply do not feel that where we are going, they will make much difference, in the end. Against that that rests in Irem, a quick pair of legs will be more useful than bullets."

OOC: My sincere apologies for taking forever with this post. Hopefully, it will meet with all of your approvals?

IC:

"Yes, quite." The Doctor responded to Hu, before slowly gathering the expedition's members around a large table which had been set up. "Now, as you all should know, your expedition's purpose is two-fold." Ali-Basr sketched a quick series of question marks in the area marked 'deep desert'. "Firstly, your aim is to find the site of Irem, the City of Pillars. Mister Hu, sir, I would advise you not to frighten the bearers and diggers with," the curator stopped himself with difficulty from saying 'idle talk' and continued with, "talk of monsters and so on. These are superstitious people, and I would shudder to think what might happen should they be frightened."

Al-Ghuraab rumbled slightly, fixing his eyes firmly on the little mystic. "I am sure the Sufi will understand the neccessity of remaining tactful." The tribesman said, sliding a hand along one of his arms as if it itched.

"Yes, I'm sure he will." Ali-Basr continued, blithely. "Well, in case you haven't already met, this is Al-Ghuraab. He will be one of the leaders of this expedition, and he enjoys my full confidence."

"Thank you, Doctor." Al-Ghuraab said once more, a mysterious smile crossing what could be seen of his face.

"Anyway, as I've said. Your first goal is to find the lost city, and begin a dig there for anything that might result in us establishing its provenance, etcetera." Ali-Basr's expression made it quite clear that he believed that everyone present should know how to go about an expedition. "The second goal is to find out what really happened to the previous expedition, of which the unfortunate Mister Masters was the only survivor." He flicked open a small notepad and glanced around the group. "Any questions before we go on?"

Enuti’s eyes narrowed behind the lenses which curtained off the windows to his soul at he confirmed the depressing state of Lady Montgomery’s preparation, then he smiled grimly at Hu. “I prefer not to let it close to where I need to combat it hand to hand, but I have things well under control there too. As long as you’re comfortable with what you have. Guns will stop it if it is physical, and if not, the Professor will deal with it if it can be dealt with. Otherwise,” he smiled, recalling the multiple awards he had won in university as a runner, “I think I can keep up with you.”

He returned his attention to Callista, now that she was done yelling at her poor porter. “Lady Montgomery, I hope for your sake that you’re right, and I’m just paranoid. But past experience and my cursory glance through the Professor’s books leads me to expect otherwise. We will find some of the things in your childhood nightmares on this trip, I suspect.” Turning, he trailed after Tara and nodded as she pointed out a camel to him.

He strapped his gear on the placid seeming beast, and then moved over to Tara. “Miss Craven, I’ve got something unexpected that’s come up. If we attempt to leave in the next twenty minutes,” his tone was very doubtful, “could you attempt to delay our departure?” Without waiting for a response, he turned and vanished into the sand and then the crowd on his mysterious errand.

"Monsters?" Hu looked around at the group. Callista could be forgiven, and everyone else knew, so how did a man such as this get whiff of the City of the Pillars? Hu hesitated, and then simply nodded. "Of course. Will you be going with us, Doctor?"

Hu's eyes narrowed the slightest, slightest bit as he was introduced. "Al-Ghuraab, is it? What a fascinating name you have, sir. I am sure nothing will go astray with such a man leading us. And of course, tact is one of my virtues, when it fits the situation." He met the eyes of the black robed man ("Very black robed. Immensely black-robed. Unmistakably black-robed," thought Hu), serenely, but a little less than confidantly.

He just watched as Enuti left, wondering what the man was up to.

Callista looked at Enuti, a little speechless, as she wondered just exactly what he thought was going to happen on this little excursion. He obviously had not been on many of these trips to know that they sounded more exciting than they tended to be. The thought of seeing a ruined temple or village was all very interesting, but they tended to only be worth the effort of making the way there if the company was good, and having Professor Moran on the trip did mean that this would be one of the more interesting she had been on.

As he walked off, Callista turned to Hu. “He seems a very strange man, and very easily worried.” She frowned as she watched Enuti disappear. “And he seems to have an unhealthy obsession with guns. Some people just do not know how to travel.” She gave Hu a smile and then moved over to where Ali was stacking her luggage precariously. If she wanted something done properly, she would have to oversee the work herself.

* * * * *

Tara listened to the interactions and stared oddly as Enuti walked passed her, only managing to mutter, “Sure, I’ll do my best” as he disappeared. She wondered what had caused this sudden desire to leave, hoping it was not the thought of using a camel. She was sure that as soon as he got on one, he would find he was more than capable of riding one.

Moving over to where Moran was standing, she looked at the others in the group, her heart sinking, or at least growing in trepidation. She had been on trips in the past, but this one really did not make her feel very comfortable. The thought of the tourist coming along really did not help, nor the arrival of Al-Ghuraab, who had a very strange presence. Even the good Doctor did not seem very comfortable in his presence.

“If it wasn’t for the ruined village,” she said softly, keeping her voice down to almost a whisper. “I think I would be on the first plane out of here.” She flicked her eyes around the party again. “I’m not too sure about our companions.” Her gaze landed on Callista. “Not all of them, anyway.”

Ali-Basr banished all thought of Enuti from his mind and returned to studying the group. "Yes, quite." The curator patted Al-Ghuraab on the shoulder. "Still, my full confidence is in the expedition."

"Now, you'll be leaving immediately, so I suggest that if you have any personal supplies you might need, do it immediately." He flipped through his rolodex and nodded. "Now, there has been minor bandit activity in the desert lately, so in addition to the bearers and diggers I'm sending some guards. Hopefully you'll find enough of interest to pay the museum back, right?"

Tara looked at the professor and frowned, not liking the idea of having guards around them. These kind of people tended to become a little jumpy, and there was nothing like having to dodge friendly fire. She thought for a moment of their last outing, remembering the guides and villagers they had picked up then, oddly they were very reliable in their positions, and had earned her respect…even more so when so many of them laid down their lives on that expedition.

“This just gets better and better every time.” She mumbled under her breath to Moran. “Guards and a tourist along to boot.” Her eyes flicked over to where Callista was arguing with her guide, who kicked the woman’s case. Tara could not help but grin at the man’s rebellious streak. She could not imagine remaining calm for long with Callista’s attitude. “Enuti had a last minute errand to run…I hope he isn’t going to be long. If necessary, I will stay back and wait for him, and then we’ll catch you up, it shouldn’t be too hard this early in the trip.”

* * * * *

Callista could feel herself getting angry. “If you kick that once more, man, I will have you flogged.” Her voice screamed at the man before her. “This is expensive. You would not be able to afford replacements if you worked until you were one hundred.” She crouched down next to her luggage, running her hand over its surface as Ali jabbered on at her in his own language, her ears deaf to his whining. “This is just too much, you’ve scuffed the finish.”

Getting to her feet, her eyes blazed with anger. “You are lucky I’m not docking this out of your fee.” She sighed heavily. “Now, just you get it loaded and ready for the off. I don’t want to keep the party waiting.”

Moran frowned a little, looking at the Doctor, "Since this is your expedition, and since we are on your payroll, I see no reason why we should pay for the guards. Since we didn't subcontract them out, their pay is the museum's responsibility. Furthermore, since we are going into this desert at your request and to retrieve artifacts for your museum, it is in your best interest to pay these men. Trying to pass the bill onto us is in decidedly poor form. I thought you were a professional, sir."

It was a good mix, really. Part of Moran's indignation was at the thought of being forced to shoulder the museum's bill, but it was also a stalling tactic to give Enuti more time to get back.

Doctor Ali-Basr withdrew, his eyes glancing nervously around the assembled men. "Um...err... ah... just my way of a joke, of course." He said in a voice that left it clear that he had been serious. "Of course we will be paying for your wages and those of the workers." Then he paused again. "...Um...I wish I could be going, but... you know, I have a bit of a cough, and..."

The tall, black-cloaked figure of Al-Ghuraab placed a hand on the curator's shoulder. One of the fingers only barely fit on. "I am sure, Doctor, that if you wished to accompany us at least as far as the village all efforts could be made to maintain your safety and health."

Ali-Basr looked unsure for a moment, then he quietly said, "Perhaps I will come. It has been a while since I last did some work in the field..."

"Splendid!" Al-Ghuraab boomed, then he cupped his hands and shouted at all present, "Attention you sons of camels! If we are not on our way in twenty minutes there will be consequences! Make ready!"

(I have the move-out post ready, and I WILL post it tomorrow. If there are any last concerns or anything, post them tonight.)

Tara stood, looking at the hustle and bustle going on around her, as her mind turned to Enuti wondering what he was doing, and why he had to dash off suddenly. She looked at Moran and smiled, her eyes meeting his with a sparkle. “Looks like we’ll be moving soon and I won’t be sorry. All this waiting around makes me feel nervous, as if those in charge don’t know what they are doing.” She let her gaze rest on the Doctor and Al-Ghuraab. “I don’t know what it is about them, but they really do not instil me with much reassurance.”

Turning back to Moran, she smiled and shook her head. “If I don’t start doing something, I’m going to wind myself up with fear before we leave. I think I need to think of more pleasant things.” She winked at him and grinned.

Moran chuckled at Tara's comment, "Considering the lack of planning on our host's part, I'm tempted to suggest leaving next week. I'm sure we could fill the time," he gave her a slight wink.

He frowned a little at how slip-shod the whole affair seemed to be. He had listened to some of the porters, and combining that with what he remembered from his and Tara's night out on the town, he felt reasonably confident that he had a grasp of the local dialect. He certainly knew the root language, if nothing else.

He glanced around and cleared his through before barking out orders in Arabic, "It is time to move out, now! You! Load those camels. You! Quit kicking her bag and load the damnable thing! You! Shoulder those rifles and quit acting like children; you're supposed to be guards. Act like it. You! But those shovels away; we aren't digging here!" The hired help looked a little surprized that this white haired foreigner was telling them what to do. There was a little hesitation until he grabbed the rifle out of one of the guard's hands and swatted him on the ass with it, "Don't make me repeat myself. MOVE!"

Realising that he wasn't just going to yell, but was actually prepared to do something, the porters, guards, and diggers got themselves in gear. Once they started to finally work, Moran was more than willing to help out, and they quickly found themselves ready to go. He turned to Al-Ghuraab, "Now, are you going to actually lead, or am I going to have to find this city based on half remember myths from twenty years ago?"

Al-Ghuraab returned Moran's glare coldly, his fingers flexing as if he desired nothing more than to launch himself for the professor's throat. Then the man smiled and laughed, a loud booming sound that echoed from the surrounding buildings. "Ah, effendi, you are not a native yet!" He moved to pat Moran on the back, then pulled his hand back as if scalded. To cover this, he coughed and shouted, "You heard the Professor! Make ready! We leave in ten minutes!"

Ali-Basr coughed and managed a weak smile. "Yes, good man."

Nine minutes and fifteen seconds later, the caravan moved into action. Soon their camels were running over the hot sand, leaving the city behind them.

===

Five days later, the village was in sight. Al-Ghuraab nodded when he saw the sunlight glinting off the minarets, and turned to ride alongside Moran. "When we reach the village and you have watered and fed yourself," the caravan leader said to the aged man, "Perhaps it would be best if you and I rode out with guards to inspect the site?"

Hu looked at Moran surprisedly when he heard the man speak Arabic, and his respect rose significantly for the man because of it, as it did too because of Moran's institution of discipline on the lazy crew that the good Doctor had put together.

And now, finally, it was time to move out. Placing his staff on his personal camel, he patted the creature, speaking softly in Arabic to it. One or twice the camel seemed to shoot a look at Al-Ghuraab, spitting dangerously close to the man's black robe, but Hu continued speaking to him, then laughed. "Al-Adha! You will get me in trouble one of these days."

His brief episode of joy faded within a second, and he took on an intensely watchful mood throughout the journey before the expedition came in sight of the village.

When Enuti returned to the expedition, it was just getting ready to go, and he swung up onto the camel just in time as it started to move. Fortunately, his ability to control it was rather inconsequential, as it was following its fellows immediately.

Briefly, before deciding to be thankful for it, Enuti wondered if this was indicative of great intelligence or great stupidity on the part of the beast of burden. Then as the pace picked up, he swung his long brown package he had not left with, but returned with, onto the back of the animal and tied it down with the rest of his gear.

He would give the shotgun to Lady Montgomery later. When it was likely they would need it, perhaps. A grin split his face. Maybe tomorrow.

Though hopefully not. Maybe this would be a short, uneventful journey, and he could go back to the Hack and find himself a place to live. Yeah, cause that was likely.

He had managed to read one of the professor’s books on the flight down here. Oh well, at least there were more people who theoretically knew how to use guns. He only hoped they would help. He rode in silence, eyes watching the horizon, until and unless someone spoke to him, resolving at the first stop to get the professor to teach him the commands for the camels.

By the time the party arrived within sight of the village, Tara was more than a little eager to get off of the camel and spend some time on terra firma. She had always enjoyed riding, and had been on more than one camel in her lifetime, usually during trips she had taken with her family, but she could not remember a time that she had wanted off of one more than now. She smiled to herself as she realised that she was probably too used to the luxury of the hotel, and the journey on the camel had left her a little stiff.

Stretching her body, trying to bring some life into her tired joints, Tara patted the animal beneath her, and guided it to where Enuti was riding. Up ahead she could see the professor talking to the expedition leader.

“I don’t know about you, but I will be grateful when we arrive at the village.” She turned her head to face him. “I just hope the plan isn’t to get back on the camels the next day, my body is begging for a rest for at least a day.” She grinned as she checked over her companion. “So…the delay in leaving, is it a secret or were you merely trying to avoid the ride?”

* * * * *

Callista moved along near the middle of the group, her camel moving at a leisurely pass, as she sat beneath a cream parasol, to keep the sun off of her skin. She let her eyes wander around the group, settling first on the professor’s assistants and then on Moran himself. He had been too busy helping to keep things moving for her to get a chance to spend any time with him, but she was sure that when they reached the village, which could just been seen on the horizon, she would have an opportunity to get to know him better.

She turned her attention to Hu, and smiled, grateful that at least one member of her party was able to ride a camel and handle himself in the desert. The same could not be said for Ali, who was fighting to keep his beast aimed in the right direction.

Moran simply smiled blithely at Al-Ghuraab's responce to his actions. It was hard to tell if he didn't notice, or if he simply chose to not respond. Knowing the professor, it was probably a combination of both. The only responce he really had was to give the Arab a slightly quirked smile, "Things are always more than they seem, hmm?" Without waiting for a reply, he climbed onto his camel, following the group out; neither taking the lead nor taking the rear: it was nice to not have to lead for once.

The five day journey was rather dull for Moran. While he enjoyed the excitement of being on a new expedition, the travel was rather tedious, too. They were generally too tired at night for much revelrie, and he certainly wasn't about to get up to anything with Tara when there was absolutely no privacy. That cave, long ago, was another time and place, and involved a rather potent drug, no less. No, it was doomed to be five dull days, especially since there were no raiders or anything. He talked a little to his companions, but seemed to prefer conducting last minute research with a little notebook he'd brought with.

The notebook was full of cramped writing in a strange language, or perhaps a personal code; it was hard to tell which. Moran seemed to have no difficulty with it, which was all that mattered to him. He was actually able to look it over with minimal distraction: while the gait of the camel was anything but smooth, his camel seemed to give him no difficulties. It was as if his had cruise control or autopilot, it simply plodded along, following the others in an almost horse-like manner. It was pretty odd, but Moran seemed to pay it no heed.

As they approached the city, Moran was, once again, studying his notebook, and he barely noticed 'Grub-Grub' riding next to him. All he really heard was, "...you and I rode out with guards to inspect the site?" He blinked and looked up, first looking at the distant village and then at Al-Ghuraab. "Hmm? Oh... yes, the site... of course." With practiced ease, he closed the small book and slipped it into his pocket, "Well, in all honesty, I don't see the sense in that. We're all here to inspect the site, so why should you and I go alone? If there's danger, it would be best to have as many people as possible, and if there isn't any, well... we'd just be wasting our time travelling to and fro. And while I can't speak for the entire team, I can say, without hesitation, that Tara and Enuti are exceptionally qualified for this sort of thing, and I fully trust them. I wouldn't want to venture to the site without both of them."

Tara looked across at Moran and Al-Ghuraab, her senses heightening as they tended to whenever that man was around. There was someone strange about most of the people taking part in the expedition, but Al-Ghuraab seemed to instil more suspicion than the others. It was probably down to the way he seemed to appear or be where he was least expected. Not to mention the lack of communication from him, he only seemed to talk when something needed saying, and had not attempted to get to know anyone on the trip to the village. Of course, some people were loners, but there was still something about him.

It was with half an ear to the conversation he was having with Moran that Tara waited on Enuti’s response. At least she had the two people she trusted more than anyone with her, otherwise, she probably would not have ventured this far on her own, and would have been on the first plane back to The Hack.

Enuti laughed at Tara's question. "No secret, Miss Craven." He reached behind up and pulled free the long package that was still strapped to the outside of all the gear. "Lady Montgomery is unarmed. Apparently," his eyes gleamed, "the Professor routinely exaggerates the danger of such adventures as this in his books, and these trips are not really dangerous."

He grinned. "So I figure she can handle a light weight shotgun. You could buy anything in that city very cheaply. I'll give it to her if it looks like she needs it, or we get into trouble."

“You have bought Miss Montgomery a rifle?” Tara looked at Enuti, and if she had known him as well as she did, she would have broken into a fit of laughter. But knowing Enuti, she knew that that what he said was the truth. He had moved away from the set off point in the town to arm a woman who probably had never held anything more powerful that a hairdryer in her hand. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate the thought. I think she could do with testing it on that man of hers.” She frowned. “Not that she doesn’t deserve all the hassle he is giving her.”

Tara’s gaze fell briefly on the subject of their discussion, who was riding a little way behind, a parasol held over her head to keep the sun off of her skin. Tara looked back at Enuti and smiled. “Are you going to offer to teach her to use it?” Her eyes twinkled with mirth. “You never know, she might even attempt a little target practice on you for insulting her ability to look after herself on a mere sightseeing tour.”

Enuti chuckled. “She’s more than welcome to try and shoot me.” He grinned at Tara. “But I’ll shoot back.” He smiled. “I might even miss.” Which was even more of joke, as well…

Enuti didn’t miss what he shot at. “But yes, if she needs lessons, I’ll make sure she can at least aim in the general direction of the target and pull the trigger. That’s all you need for a shotgun.” He grinned, and kicked his camel into faster motion to catch up to the Professor, who seemed to be indicating that he wanted Enuti and Tara to catch up to him.

Tara grinned, just managing to stop herself from laughing out loud. She watched Enuti’s back as he edged to where the Professor was riding along with Al-Ghuraab. Following her companion’s example, she kicked her camel, and felt the change in its body as it moved into a canter, bringing her closer to Moran.

She brought herself to a halt a little way behind the group, sure that they would know of her presence from the sound of the camel’s run. She looked over at the Professor and then her eyes lingered on his companion, as she felt a shiver running up her spine. There was something about Al-Ghuraab that made her feel uncomfortable.

Moran wrapped up his conversation with Al-Ghuraab, the Arab looking rather displeased while Moran's eyes and jaw were set. Tara could see that they had be softly arguing. She also knew by looking at the expressions of the two men, Moran had won. He was usually a very laid back man, but there were times that he was like a pit bull: he'd clamp onto something and not let go regardless. She heard him mutter something in Arabic to Al-Ghuraab, and the other man frowned. He then pulled on his camel a little, slowing it down until he was riding next to Tara.

He adjusted his sunglasses and sighed before smiling at her, "Difference of opinion. He thought I trusted him enough to go riding across the desert alone with him." He chuckled softly, "At any rate, we're almost to the village. From there it's a short jaunt to the site. Looks like we're almost there." Despite himself, he found himself wondering about what kind of lodgings they might find in the village; it was getting late.


Yoo-hoo! Roania! You still alive buddy?

((Hi, all. Look, I really don't know what to say. I am AMAZINGLY sorry about all this. Last month I was buried under preparations for the finals, and for the first two weeks of this month I was blind in one eye. I'm here for the foreseeable future now, though I'd understand if you all wanted to quit. I'm sorry again.))

Al-Ghuraab hissed in impatience, then rode off. "As you wish." The tribesman returned to his position, watching Moran with eyes of steel.

Ali-Basr rode up next, reading the map as he sat in his saddle. "...Professor, I've made arrangements for us to set up tents around the northern gate." The curator sighed. "Regrettably, they were unwilling to let us make use of their hotel at all after the death, though they have kept the room our man used as it was before the accident so we could make an inspection." He paused. "The key is with the militia in town, if you were interested."

Tara looked at Moran and smiled, watching his features. “You have been on too many of these things not to be wary, I am surprised our guides were not aware of your experience.” She shook her head, and once more turned her attention to the view ahead. “I will be glad to get off this camel, plus I am looking forward to the little piece of entertainment that Enuti has planned for our arrival at the village.” She shot the aforementioned man a grin, before once more looking at Moran, not explaining herself. Even if she had wanted to the arrival of Al-Ghuraab stilled her tongue.

She listened as their guide explained the situation at the village, and she was more than a little surprised that the village sounded bigger than she was expecting. She had imagined a small settlement, but if the place boasted a hotel…

Turning to Al-Ghuraab, she looked at him questioning. “Excuse me for asking, but the death of…” She paused trying to recall the man’s name. “The people at the village know what caused it, or do they think it is tied to some superstition?”

Moran smiled happily at Tara. Dealing with Al-Ghuraab made him feel uneasy, even if it was just talking. He wasn't one for paranoid flights of fancy, but he had also learned that ignoring his gut feeling was a bad idea. He wasn't a precognosticator, or anything of the sort, but the agreement he had made had given him a certain kind of awareness that he didn't ignore. He didn't know who Al-Ghuraab was, he didn't know who the Arab was aligned with, but he knew it wasn't a good thing.

Somehow, however, Tara's smile made him forget the unease. He grinned a little, amazed at how much things had changed. And at what a difference a piece of fruit from the middle of the jungle could make. "Entertainment...?" He simply blinked in confusion as as the professor rode up and shattered his concentration.

Still, there was no such thing as random chance. If someone connected to this was murdered, and if the locals were willing to let them investigate, well, it was probably a trap, but it was still important enough to risk. "Not a fan of tents when there's a perfectly usable hotel, but..." He sighed, "Taking a look might be an idea."

Al-Ghuraab and the curator looked at one another, and then both started talking at once.

"Some of the locals feel that it is the act of a force described as 'the demon of the winds'. We would be advised to be care..." Al-Ghuraab was interrupted. Grinding his teeth he held his thought.

"Superstitious nonsense, really." Ali-Basr cut in. "He tripped and fell inside the ruins after dark."

Al-Ghuraab cut in. "Locals say that he was called to the ruins by the wind, and the wind took him."

"Primitive remnants," Ali-Basr spat back. "Of course, this town has been known for that kind of thing," He considered, "what with the ruins and that man named Al-Azif, or something like that. He wrote part of a very awful book while staying in this town, you know."

The sand blew intricate dust swirls for a moment. Al-Ghuraab paused. "Al-Azif, you say?" The bedouin murmured, and slowly rode back to his place, shaking his head as he did so. Foolish man... Do not worry, though, Abdul Hezred... I, at least, remember.

Ali-Basr watched him leave. "...what was that about?" He asked Moran,feeling slightly hurt. "I don't need the GUIDE to shake his head at me!" He shouted after the retreating nomad.

Moran quirked an eyebrow and shrugged, "Discounting local belief out of hand isn't a way to 'win friends and influence people', as it were. There are plenty of things that are poorly understood, after all. Besides, it doesn't much matter if a foul wind caused the problems or it he was just clumsy. The fact that the locals believe an ill wind to be the cause is all that really matters. Calling it foolish won't solve anything."

He rubbed his chin a little, "As for Al-Azif... well... that isn't a person, it is a book. The author, according to legend, was devoured in the middle of a market, in broad daylight, by an invisible demon. Any village still surviving from such ancient times is bound to be very superstitous. We would do well to keep that in mind when dealing with the locals." He frowned, slipping into thought as he pondered just how cursed this village could be. He murmured softly, remembering a passage from the very book Ali-Basr so blithely discounted, "Happy is the tomb where no wizard hath lain, and happy the town at night whose wizards are all ashes."

Enuti shivered as the Professor quoted this odd book, and watched the retreating guide. Finally, his gaze settled on the curator of the museum. All praise be to Opolla, God of the Sun, that the Professor is with us, or we’d be dead already. He leaned out of his camel’s saddle and whispered to Tara. “Somehow that exchange has not increased my confidence in the Curator any.”

He looked up at Moran. “So, are we going to inspect anything tonight, or should we just go get moved into the hotel?” He smiled. “I’m all for the second option, seeing as how I was raised in the jungle, and well, this doesn’t look a lot like home.”

Like Enuti, Tara was not feeling any more relaxed having over heard the conversation between Moran and the Curator. She turned to her companion. “There is something about this whole trip that does not make me feel very comfortable, and the more I hear, the more I feel my initial feeling was correct.”

She shook her head and listened as Enuti addressed Moran, hoping that the professor was going to suggest they move into the hotel, but knowing Moran she had a feeling he would advise looking around followed by sleeping in a tent. The thought really did not help her mood, but she knew it was for all the wrong reasons, especially for being out in the field.

* * * * *

Lady Callista Montgomery shifted in her seat with a sigh, as she felt her bum going numb for the countless time since they left the town. She let out a long drawn out breath, as she wondered whether the sights at the end of the journey would be worth the struggle to get there. It was only the fact that Professor Daniel Moran was on the trip that made it seem even slightly worth the effort, not that she had managed to get more than a couple of words with him since they started. But they were about to reach the village, which would allow her at least to get off the camel and maybe even get the professor alone for a few minutes.

The Sufi maintained a veiled interest in the proceedings. So the Professor knew about Al-Azif? The whisperings of the demons...

The Westerners called it the Necronomicon, but Hu had always felt that their muddled translations did not do that book justice. Oh, the Sufis knew all about al-Azif. They had known things about Keys, Gates, and their Keepers long before Abdul Alhazred had begun his delvings into things better left buried. Their were many who hinted that the mad poet himself had been one of their order.

Oh yes, the Sufis knew. All throughout history they had been pressed by cults, wizards, holy orders, poets, and gods and demons themselves for the knowledge they stored. Terrible truths cloaked in their wool garments. Entire religions and organizations had been built on the merest fragments they had gleaned from the Cloaked Ones.

And only a very few of the Sufis knew the sinister truth behind that knowledge, where and how it had been acquired.

Hu himself did not know the whole, terrible truth. He was too young for the full brunt of the knowledge the Sufis held. But he knew enough. He gazed at the retreating form of 'Al-Ghuraab', turned to look at Moran, and wondered, as the Professor quoted, if perhaps he had, finally, met someone who had pierced the veil, looked beyond, and returned intact as the Professor quoted that damned book.

As for sleeping. Hu had fasted for days, slept on the barest rock. It mattered not to him.

So he kept quiet, always a shadow in the group's peripheral vision, guiding his obedient camel, Al-Adha, expertly, and carefully absorbing all that he heard.

"Be all that as it may," Ali-Basr said in a semi-patronising tone, half-thinking that Moran's lectures and travels had gotten away from him, "the question still stands. Do we wish to go into the hotel and inspect the Expedition Leader's death?" The curator glanced out at the shimmering desert. "This evening, when the temperature breaks, we might go out to the ruins with the diggers and guards and see if we can make a start so the going will be easier during the day."

Al-Ghuraab glared at him, then shifted his glance to Moran for a moment, then turned his attention back to the curator. His lips moved quietly, and then his left hand, covered as it was with a thick leather glove, contracted slightly. The wind picked up suddenly, then knocked Ali-Basr's hat askew, sending it flying towards the distant ruins.

Ali-Basr felt his head. "...my hat! That confounded wind stole my hat!" Even as he said that, though, the hat pinwheeled around and lay at the feet of his camel.

Al-Ghuraab rode up, a slightly superior look on his face. "...surely even an educated man such as yourself, Doctor Ali-Basr, will accept that the wind can do unusual things sometimes? And perhaps this is evidence enough..." His face became that of a man doomed to tolerate people he thought were inferior, "that a man who isn't in his right mind, perhaps, would feel that the wind was indeed calling to him?" With a polite nod to Moran, the guide rode up ahead. "Effendis!" He called to the caravan aides. "We shall set up camp here! I strongly advise that you prepare the tents quickly! There will be no leave to enter the village tonight or tomorrow."

Ali-Basr, leaping to the ground and picking up his hat, glanced at the tall, black-clad bedouin. "Surely we could allow them some leave?"

"These are superstitious nomads and itinerants, Honoured Doctor. I am a nomad myself, I know what we are like. If we allow them to enter the village, they will be affected by what the villagers have to say about the ruins, truth or not." Al-Ghuraab frowned. "I, myself, would prefer they come to their...own conclusions."

Moran frowned a little as their 'guide' decided that they would not go to the hotel. It had been many years since he went on a trip that he wasn't leading, and he felt his hackles rise a little at being told what to do. After a couple of breaths, he calmed down, trying to remember that this wasn't his expedition; that he was simply another expert brought along for the ride. He shrugged a little, glancing at Tara and Enuti, "Seems we're staying here. I'd prefer staying in a hotel one last night before starting," he gave a very slight grin towards Tara at that, "but it's not my call." He chuckled, "I'm just another worker on this trip."

He glanced around and stepped closer to his companions, lowering his voice as he spoke just to them, "I trust Grub-grub about as far as I can throw him... regardless of other arrangements, I think we should probably have our own cycle of watches." He glanced at the other members of the trip, "The workers won't guard, the guards are just locals and probably incompitent against anything... nasty. Ms. Montgomery still thinks this is a safari. I'm not positive on the Sufi; he doesn't give me a bad feeling, but I certainly don't know him enough to trust him on something like this."

He sighed softly, "Pity Sui couldn't have come with us. He was always good for insight."

Tara looked at Moran as he spoke and smiled. She too would have preferred to stay at the hotel for several reasons, all of which were rather selfish, especially considering the fear the owners were obviously feeling following the murder. Good people tended to want to keep the risk as far away as possible, and if one person who had ventured to where the party was heading had died there, she could imagine that they did not want any more. It was not good for business, after all.

As the professor spoke, she gazed around at each of the people he mentioned, agreeing totally with his assessment of each. “If the worse comes to the worse, Professor, we can always ride out of town and head back. I know you don’t like to run, but it’s better than dying.” And she had been close enough to death on several occasions and it was something she did not want to experience again.

* * * * *

Lady Montgomery was seeing things from a different perspective. One of a tourist. She had not heard the conversation that had passed between the guide and the professor, in fact, she had no notion of their being anything wrong. The idea that they were not going to stay in the hotel did not trouble her, as she assumed that it was part of the package deal, and she was not one to concern herself with being uncomfortable for a few days. It was a pleasant change from the pampering that she normally received in her life.

She gazed ahead at the village, pleasantly surprised that there was in fact a village. She had been on tours before where a few tents in the middle of a desert were classed as a town. Relaxing at the sight of more life, she rode quietly along behind the party, taking in the sights and thoroughly missing the tension that was in the air.

Enuti smiled darkly, close lipped, and lightly stroked one of the multitude of weapons fastened in both obvious and not so obvious places about his person. “I agree. I recall the dangers we faced last time, and that was in a place that was almost home like. None of us are from the desert. We must be alert always.”

He ran his gaze over Tara and Moran. “It would probably be best if you two continue your separate sleeping arrangements, despite the fact we won’t have to get up as early in the morning. There’s no need to upset the locals.” He smiled wryly. “Sorry.” His paranoia was coming to the fore, now, and he shrugged. “At a guess, it would make more sense for you, Professor, to take first or last watch, so you get the longest period of uninterrupted sleep. I have a feeling we may need you at your best tomorrow.” He looked at the retreating backs of the locals. “Since I lack confidence in those who have shown nothing but pointless bickering and ineptitude so far on this journey. And Grubbie freaks me out.”

Moran opened his mouth to protest, and decided that it was a waste of time; he and Tara weren't fooling Enuti, and probably didn't fool anybody now that he thought about it. Instead he simply shrugged and smiled a little impishly, "They call it 'roughing it' for a reason, I guess." He chuckled and smiled at Tara, "Think of it as motivation?"

He turned serious, though, "While I certainly don't want to die in some blasted desert, I also don't like leaving things unfinished. It's not so much a matter of pride, but the fact that if there is something out there, it can only be bad news, and this villiage would just be the first casualties. Better to stop things before they get out of hand." He frowned slightly, "I don't mean to sound like a paranoid old nut, but... well... you've both seen enough nasty things to last a life time, and I've seen even more."

He smiled at Enuti, "To be fair, I want to be sure you get a good night's sleep too, Enuti. I typically don't need too much." He pondered a moment, "Hm. How about I take first; Tara, you take second; Enuti you take last?" He smiled apolegetically at Tara, "Sorry to stick you with second," his voice trailed off a little awkwardly, like he had been thinking of adding something else, such as a term of endearment, but decided against it. Some things just took getting used to.

The Sufi's outward expression revealed nothing as he placed himself close to the rest of the group and curled up on what apparently was some sort of rudimentary mat. He took something out of the folds of his pocket along with a decidedly out of place lighter and began to arrange his entirely meager possessions, failing to in any way yoke his camel. He breathed in the scents of the incense, focused his minds on various colors and the names of the Key, Keeper, and Gate. Softly, he began to sing in a low voice, holding the M's in his words, a series of drawn out vowels and consonants that was, in the circumstances, quite hypnotic. Those who spoke Arabic would recognize it as first meditational in the form of God's names, followed by aphorisms about the not-qualities of Allah, and ending in humble supplication. He was quite a good singer, actually, and the voice encouraged, rather than inhibited, sleep. The penetrating quality buzzed in your mind, causing the eyes to droop eventually.

Each intake and outtake of breath, the volume and duration of every syllable was carefully and fastidiously designed to invoke trance and religious experience. Quietly, after he finished the dhikr, he took out a traditional Sufi flute, or ney, and began to play it, again with an extremely high level of skill. Floating, soaring, slow, and penetrating, the flute's music found its way into your soul and expanded it. Combined with the soft, buzzing song earlier, and if you had chosen to immerse yourself in the Sufi's music rather than ignore or dismiss it, the flute brought its listeners into a dizzying heighth, wherein there was neither the listener, nor the player, simply the music, a soft stream whose ripples expanded indefinitely.

The soft melody gradually tapered off before extinguishing in the night. Quietly, in the afterglow, Hu prayed.

“Motivation?” Tara rolled her eyes and smiled, trying to drive the thoughts about the hotel she had been having out of her mind. They were there to do a job after all, not take a holiday. Trying to look cheerful, she nodded her head and listened as Moran continued to explain the watch for the night. She really was not surprised to be given middle watch, she knew she was the worse out of the three of them, even though she did do her best. She had even booked lessons at a shooting range for when she was home, but they had left so quickly that she had yet to use them.

“We don’t consider you paranoid, Professor.” She looked at Enuti as if getting confirmation from him. “We know what is out there. We’ve seen things I know I would rather not have seen.” She turned her attention back to Moran. “And I’m more than happy taking second watch.” It gave her the opportunity of seeing the professor for a while before he hit the sack. “I guess we should make ourselves at home. I’ll find us a good place to sleep,” her voice trailed off at the idea of sleeping alone. “Will you two be sharing?”

* * * * *

Callista looked about her, a little disappointed in their location. She had been expecting something a little more remote. But still, she was never one to make a fuss over sleeping arrangements. She had been in worse and better. Her attention was grabbed by the behaviour of her guide, the one that had offered to see her safely on this trip, not the foolish one that she allowed to carry her luggage.

It had been a while since she had witnessed such a religious ceremony, or at least she assumed that was what he was performing. She moved over to where he was and stood watching, enjoying the sound of the music that he made, as she let herself relax, slowly lowering into a crouch as she listened. She remained where she was as he fell silent into prayer.

Enuti considered Tara’s question silently after nodding an affirmative to Moran’s plan. It made sense, all things considered – especially since, despite being far older, Moran shot to a fully aware state faster than the young jungle man.

A little disturbing, and perhaps something to research at a later date, but useful now. So it made since for him to be awake first, so he would be fully alert when they did… whatever it was they were going to do in the morning.

But as for sharing a tent, they had not been using the tents much in the relatively calm desert on the way out here, mostly curling up beside the camels to sleep, but it would make sense to get a normal night’s sleep before they did… whatever.

He knew the Professor rarely slept more than four hours, from their experiences in the jungle, and that would mean they would at most share the tent for an hour and a bit, maybe as much as two. Since the tent slept four, normally, it was not a hardship. He nodded to Tara, and waited until she moved away before he spoke low to Moran. “All three of us would fit in the big tent, if you two could contain yourselves,” he grinned, “and you’re really worried about security.” The white gleam of his teeth faded from under his pulled up hood against the stinging sand that the constant wind was swirling about them. “Frankly, it’ll take too long if for some reason she needed help and we were in the other tent. We can store gear in her tent. I don’t trust any of these people any further than I can throw them.” He glanced at some of the porters, who he was sure must be dying under the regular daytime conditions of the desert due to their weight problems. “Maybe it’s just the utter lack of trees and the dryness of the air, or maybe the sand as far as I can see, but I’ve felt slightly off ever since we left.”

Moran coughed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck; he wasn't the type to blush, and tended to show embarassment differently, "Ah, yeah. I'm sure that won't be... er... a problem." He cleared his throat and raised his voice so Tara could hear, "But... ahem, yes. Sharing a single tent would probably be best. Whoever's guarding for the night should probably sit outside, though." He fought against potential embarassment at what he was suggesting allowed for and carried on quickly, "As it would be easier to see if anything was coming towards the campsite, as opposed to everybody being blindsided inside the tent."

He looked around at the others before continuing, "Yes, I think getting set up would be a good idea. I have the feeling that sleep will be difficult tonight even if nothing happens; we should maximize potential sleep time." He unloaded his camel, "Should probably put the sleeping and storage tent right next to each other. I don't want any sticky-fingered porters having a look."

Turning as Moran spoke, Tara smiled, amused at the professor’s obvious discomfort. She loved the way he handled social intervention. Place the man in a dangerous situation and you could not ask for anyone better, as the professor to mingle at a social gather and he was like a fish out of water. She managed to stop herself laughing as he continued.

“Professor, you know that I am happy to go along with any suggestions that you make.” She looked over at their belongings. “I’ll arrange the positioning of the tents and arrange for our things to be moved in.” She once more turned and continued on the way she was going.

On the way, she passed Lady Montgomery coming towards her. The two barely exchanged a smiled, as Calista walked towards Enuti and the professor, having finished watching the Sufi.

“Ah, Professor Moran, we are finally here.” She smiled as she addressed the older man. “I admit that I was expecting something a little more rugged, but this place holds a certain charm. Still, the idea of sleeping in a tent when there is a hotel just down the way, does seem a little silly.” She laughed lightly. “I guess we can’t have everything.”

She looked over at Enuti briefly. There was something about the younger man that made her a little on edge. It seemed to stem back to their meeting in the hallway at the hotel, even though she was not sure what it was exactly that had bothered her about him. “At least now we are here, I shall have more opportunity to get to speak to you. Talking on camels is not the best of places to hold a conversation.” She paused again, looking back to where Tara had disappeared. “I would like to get to know you better, Professor. I’ve read so much about you, it would be nice see the real man behind the words.”

Moran smirked a little at Tara, catching her look. Still, he supposed he was rather amusing, all things considered. Thankful for the topic change, and missing possible double meanings to Tara's comment, he nodded, "Sounds good to me. We've got plenty of emptyness to use, so it shouldn't be too hard to find a good spot." He was about to offer his help when his 'fan' walked up.

"Er... hi... um..." It took a second before he remembered her name, "Miss Montgomery. Hope the journey so far wasn't too dull or painful." He didn't fully understand her desire for things to be rugged, as he had had quite enough of that lately, but he nodded anyway. While not possessed of a huge ego, it was only human nature for someone to welcome an opportunity to talk about themself, and Moran was no exception, "'Get to know me'? Hm. Well, what would you like to know, I guess." He smiled a little, "I'd like to think I'm rather accurately represented in my writting; it doesn't do to exagerrate."

Callista laughed lightly, as she watched Moran, her eyes remaining fixed to her face. As her laughter died, a smile quickly slipped onto her lips. “Oh, I’m not sure I want to interview you, Professor Moran, I was hoping that I could make the most of the trip and just talk to you about your travels.” She took a step closer. “I mean, one can only learn so much about someone from words in a book. They make merely a two dimensional character, but I can tell from here, you are certainly three dimensional.” As she spoke she let her hand gently touch his arm.

“I know you are probably busy at the moment…” She looked first at Enuti, eyeing the man suspiciously before catching the retreating back of Tara. “Unless, of course, your staff can do without you for a moment? I am sure the hotel offers a nice place to make chit chat and new friends.” She raised her eyebrows questioningly, waiting for his reply to her offer.

* * * * *

Tara turned back momentarily, before stopping in mid-step, catching sight of Miss Montgomery with the Professor. Her brow became etched with creases, as she watched the woman place her hand on Moran’s arm. If she had known a spell that would have brought the wrath of some devil down upon that irritating woman’s head, she would have uttered them in an instant.

But she soon put the thought out of her head, not wishing to bring bad luck to the expedition. She knew that their companions were more than likely going to do that anyway. And she was not worried about the Professor, she trusted him in many ways. He probably had not even noticed the Montgomery woman’s subtle attentions.

Smiling to herself, Tara continued on towards the tent, making use of her time so that the Professor, Enuti and her could have somewhere comfortable to sleep that night. It would also stop her having to watch Callista fawning all over Moran.

The Sufi gives nothing away that shows he acknowledges the woman's presence as Callista watches him pray, going through the rituals that had been handed down from time immemorial.

When he finishes, he only smiles and lays his head down, saying nothing. The 'sleep' that he takes was akin to true rest only in that his eyes were (mostly) closed.

When he awakes, he carefully takes in the movements and conversations of all in the party, logging every scrap of information he can into his encyclopedic mind. Inwardly he is amused, outwardly his face is one of quiet determination.

Silent, as usual, he ponders the hotel. He's never slept in one in his life, and isn't too comfortable with starting right now. Perhaps...ah, but at this time? Perhaps he will try it, just this once.

Enuti considered the look the noblewoman was giving him, and decided he did not care for it. At all. But he had to be polite. It was rather in his character, unless actively pushed beyond it. He hoped this woman would not end up trying his patience the way their last privileged companion had.

On the other hand, he hoped there was absolutely nothing similar in what awaited Callista and Logan. He did not want more friends on his conscious. He resolved to end it quickly if he had to, and without looking back. He had a job, a duty – and he would only save the woman if it did not interfere. He gave a slight nod to Moran, and grinning slightly, abandoned the Professor to his fate…

Tara would have difficulty with the large tent on her own. And as the Professor seemed to have the situation not at all in hand, this had the potential to be amusing. He had to enjoy something in this blasted desert anyways. He put his head down, the hood protecting him, and trudged after Miss Craven through the blowing silicate.

Had he been aware of the thoughts of his companions, Moran might very well have been insulted. As it was, he found himself wracking his brain, trying to figure out the faint accent in Callista's voice. It only seemed to crop up during questions, and was very light. He figured it was probably Tartarian, but he wasn't sure. He feared it was a mish-mash from various other safaris she had been on, and thus baseless. And impossible to figure out. It was like having two bars of a song in your head and being unable to figure out the song; you couldn't get help either, as there was too little for anybody else to work from either.

He blinked a little in confusion, hardly noticing her hand on his arm, "Hm? Well, of course I'm three dimensional. This isn't Flatland... er, anyway... the hotel? Well... I don't think it would quite be proper for me to just abandon them like this, would it?" He glanced back seeing that the tents were actually coming along quite nicely and that his help probably wouldn't be needed. He looked around a little, blocking the sand with his hand, "Well, I suppose the hotel isn't terribly far. Perhaps for a little while. Can't be away too long, after all."

Callista smiled at Moran. “Perhaps we should wait for breakfast. I know there is a lot of settling in and setting up to day.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And to be honest, I don’t really trust the rest of the people on this trip not to disappear with one’s belongings before they are safely stowed away.” She laughed lightly, as she looked at the professor, her eyes twinkling with amusement, and maybe a little something else.

“Mmm, a nice bath would go down a treat, right now. There is nothing like riding a camel for jarring your body. Or maybe even a nice relaxing massage.” Her smile grew, as she ran her fingers down Moran’s arms, taking hold of his hand, looking at them carefully. “You have such strong hands, Professor Moran.” She looked into his face. “And yet gentle at the same time. It must come from caressing all those ancient artefacts.”

* * * * *

Tara looked around the tent, hoping that the three of them would be able to settle in. It always surprised her how quickly she managed to miss the comforts of home, or even the hotel. She grinned to herself as her thoughts turned to things that she really could do without thinking about, especially while being so busy.

She walked outside the tent, moving over to one of the camels and began to grab some of their belongings, beginning the slow task of setting up camp for the night. Her gaze landed briefly on Moran and Lady Montgomery, before she quickly returned into the tent, grateful that she had Enuti to aid her.

“I’m not sure about sitting someone outside for the night,” she said, as she lowered one of the bags to the floor. “If this place has sand storms, it could be a problem. Of course, it would also lower the possibility of anything happening to us while we slept.”

She looked towards the opening of the tent, watching as the sun set and darkness began to descend, knowing it would not be too long before there was nothing but blackness outside.

That night, the wind blew from the ruins. It blew into the town, through the canvas of the tents, and stirred up the sand. The porters and guards shifted uneasily, unhappy to be this close to the accursed ruins. Al-Ghuraab sat alone in his tent, meditating.

One tent was completely empty, however. Doctor Ali-Basr, accompanied by one of the guards, had set off on his camel across the desert to the lone tower that rose from behind the sand dunes, set apart from the rest of the ruins. "...this wasn't on the map." The curator murmured, checking the layout of the ruins. "The wind must be cleaning these structures out. That means that when these buildings were first put together, the sands were much, much lower." He spotted an indentation in the wall. Kneeling, he scrabbled at the sand.

After five minutes of frantic digging, he found that there was an opening, a black chasm leading into the depths of the earth. Ali-Basr stood up when a cold gust of air shot from the chasm, almost blowing his lantern out. "...Porter! A shovel!"

The Arab seemed disconcerted by all this. He took a wavering step forward, then shook his head and ran, dropping the shovel on the ground. "Demons! A djin!"

Ali-Basr ran after him, but the desert-dweller easily outran the curator. WIth a grunt of disgust, Ali-Basr took up the shovel and started to dig. Once the hole was wide enough, he dropped down.

~~

Al-Ghuraab looked at the porter. "...so, the Curator went on alone?" He murmured, softly. "Well. Show me this passage-way. We'll see if we can't get him out." The nomad rose to his feet, grabbed the porter by the shoulder, and pushed him onwards.

When dawn came, it was as if Al-Ghuraab had never left. The porter, his possessions, and his camel were all gone. And the curator wasn't in his tent...

~~

Al-Ghuraab stood on a carefully arranged lectern and leaned forward to address the porters and guards. "Effendim! Doctor Ali-Basr has no doubt gone ahead to begin digging! An able man such as him might have already made it into the ruins." The nomad looked around to the other support staff such as Moran and Tara. "It is my belief, then, that we should go forward and move our base camp closer to the ruins."

(There. I'm finally having enough internet access to post again.)

Sleep had not been easy, made all the more awkward with the middle shift of watch. Tara pulled herself out of her bed, something she had trouble with, although as uncomfortable as the bed was, she had little trouble. She let out a long draw out yawn, hoping that the feeling of sleepiness would wear of very quickly, the last thing she needed was a foggy brain for the day.

Having dressed, she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it out of her face and securing it with a band. Her stomach had grumbled rather unfairly at the smell of coffee, and it was the help of the brown liquid that she managed to wake herself up enough for the day. Outside she could hear the others of the party moving around and preparing for the day ahead, one that would hopefully lead them to the ruins, which was their reason for being out in the desert.

Moving over to the entrance of the tent, she looked over to where Al-Ghuraab was addressing the party. Her eyes flicked around those assembled at mention that the curator had gone off ahead to begin to dig at the ruins.

“It would appear that Ali-Basr is more foolish than we gave him credit for,” she announced to those around her, not sure whether Moran and Enuti were close enough to hear her. “Why would anyone go there alone with – from what I can tell – no help? The man never appeared to be that mad. I guess appearances can be deceiving.” She turned away from the proceedings and re-entered the tent. “It looks like we are moving on.”

* * * * *

Callista pulled up the eye mask that she wore to sleep, which helped to hide the glaring light of morning when she first opened her eyes. She let out a little sigh, feeling slightly stiff. She sometimes found the first few days of sleeping in a tent rough on her body, being used to the five star treatment she usually pampered herself with. Of course, the reason she went on the expeditions was to get away from her normal life, and so quickly dismissed the aches in her body as she dragged herself out of the bed.

Dressing down, or more so up in the desert style clothing she brought with her for these trips, she stepped out into the sunlight, quickly pulling on her designer sunglasses as she joined the rest of the group as they listened to Al-Ghuraab.

“Digging?” She murmured softly to herself, trying to recall if the booking agent, the missing Ali-Basr had said about having to do any work on the trip. She shrugged her shoulders, pushing the thought to the back of her mind.

She looked towards the tent that she knew was being used by Professor Moran. At the sight of Tara, she grinned to herself, knowing that even if the professor was using his aide for a little late night work, she would have no trouble filling the position herself. “Some women really should make more effort,” she said to herself before turning towards her tent.

“Ali, move your sorry arse and get packing, we are moving out,” she yelled at her guide who was waiting outside the tent, trying to catch a moments peace.

He only had vague recollections of his conversation with Callista, his mind had been elsewhere the whole time. He gathered that she was familiar with his work, but he was also pretty sure that she had no idea about the works he had published under his psuedonym, and thus was unaware that not all of his trips were calm, normal affairs. While she had no way of knowing, prematuring graying was not a genetic trait in his family, to say nothing of white.

The fact that Callista had... other... interests in him never even dawned on him.


He was only half asleep when he was informed that it was time to wake up. He never needed much sleep -- indeed, he didn't want much sleep, that ran the risk of nightmares -- so he was fully awake after a few moments. Or rather, he was alert; he wouldn't be fully awake until after some coffee, but that was more a habit than anything.

He sipped his coffee, better than the slop they'd been reduced to in the jungle, and frowned a little. Al-Basr was a bureaucrat, not an explorer. The man probably hadn't been in the field in ages. Still, he certainly wasn't around anymore. It didn't bode well. Moran was well aware that he had grown considerably paranoid over the years, but it had always served him right. You don't read the ancient words out loud; you don't touch the ancient sarcophagus; you don't ask how things could possibly get worse; and you don't set off alone to explore cyclopean ruins that don't appear on any map penned by human hands. It was like looking for Eibon: fast or slow, you'll end up dead.

He nodded to Tara, "Yes, it does. Hopefully we'll be able to find Al-Basr." Or at least enough to bury.

The porters began returning the tents to their original positions, the guards looming over them with their rifles. Once Al-Ghuraab had ascertained everything was going to plan, he came to where Moran was sitting. "I trust the coffee is to your liking, Professor." The tribesman said. "I did not wish to speak out loud in front of the men, but I have my concerns over our friend the Doctor. He is certainly not as young as he used to be, and this is hardly the right time for him to have vanished."

Al-Ghuraab frowned and touched his hands together in an unusual manner. "It is my belief that the good Doctor wished to show us that he was still capable of fieldwork. However, when I was first informed as to his disappearance, I rode out to the ruins and found that someone had opened up a sealed passageway." The man in black lowered his head sadly. "I fear that our friend might be beneath our feet even now. Professor Moran, I have knowledge of your reputation. And while I would hesitate to ask, my concern for the Doctor outweighs propriety. If you feel capable, would you perhaps take some of the guards into the passage and find the doctor?"

Tara, who was still standing near the professor when Al-Ghuraab had entered, looked puzzled by the sudden ‘honesty’ of the guide. From what she could recall of the Doctor during her meeting of him at the museum, he did not appear to be the kind of man that did something foolhardy, but then the desert did tend to have a strange effect on people, and if the ruins were as special as it appeared they would be, the idea of making money from them was more than enough of a pull to make even the sanest person go crazy.

“Do you really think that he went to the ruins?” Tara asked, as the professor sipped his coffee. “Could he not have returned home, maybe frightened off my some sense of doom?” She knew her choice of words was strange, but it was early and the arrival of the strange guide did not make her feel easy. He had a way of making her feel on edge just by being nearby.

She turned to Moran. “I don’t wish to speak for you, Professor, but it might not be wise to just follow the Doctor if he has been foolish enough to venture inside, especially without thinking this through.” She had been so keen to find the doctor before, but now she was not so sure that looking for him was a good idea.

Moran looked concerned. Al-Ghuraab gave him a bad feeling. It wasn't the kind of bad feeling you'd get from a guy with broken teeth and shifty eyes offering you a game of three card montie. No, this was the kind of feeling you got from seeing a serial killer who was slinking around with the remains of his latest victim; something that was normally described as feeling someone walking across your grave. Moran frequently delt with monsters that had no place in this reality, but precious little experience with their followers. The few times he had met a follower from an 'opposed' being, he felt a similar chill. Consequently, he would probably seek independant verification if Al-Ghuraab told him the sky was blue.

"Well... I'm not sure. He didn't seem to be the type to wander off on his own in the middle of the night. Especially not to a dig site; those can be very dangerous all on their own." He sipped his coffee, frowning, "I don't think he returned home, but I'm curious as to why he'd run off on his own. He hire us so he wouldn't have to do that sort of thing. To use a bad cliché: I've got a bad feeling about this." He sighed, thinking things over, "The problem is, we came here to investigate this site. I'd hate to just pack up and leave..."

"Still..." Moran continued to muse, "it sounds like it might simply be a case that he's lost. Potentially, with proper preparation, we could go find him." He muttered softly, "Idiot. He should have known better than to go exploring on his own."