Hawk disembarked with Tori, Rebecca, and the Professor into the nearly abandoned airport. “Where is everyone?” Rebecca asked.

“The heat,” Tori said. “No one is out this time of day if they can help it.”

“We shall make our way to the dig site, although it’s too hot to do much digging now anyway,” the Professor said. “Assuming we can find our ride.”

It was not long before they came around a corner to see a young man lounging in one of the chairs. Hawk noted he was dressed in the style of the western desert peoples, with a pair of pistols hanging from his belt. At the sight of them, he jumped to his feet. “Professor Wallis!”

“It seems our ride is here. Azul, Afaddis!”

“Azul, felawen,” Afaddis said with a slight bow of his head.

The professor clapped the young man on the shoulder. “Lead the way, Afaddis, my good man.”

“An Amshawish Berber,” Tori mumbled to herself. Hawk noticed that her voice seemed a bit on edge. They followed the young man out into the midday heat. A short distance away was a waiting steamcar. It was a curious looking thing, barely resembling the vehicles that crowded the city streets. This one sat on huge bulbous tires while the body, if it could so be called seemed to be made of wicker, although Hawk noted the boiler in the back. They crowded in and Afaddis stoked the boiler before speeding off into the desert, sand flying in their wake.

Hawk had been in Egypt for many years now, but he had never seen land quite like this. The sand and hills reminded him of the Mako Sika, the Badlands of his childhood. But then no more than thirty feet away from where he sat, lay a massive lake with palm trees and acacias all around. It was like another world.

They rounded a corner and there was the Professor’s makeshift camp. Little more than a collection of tents on the shore of the lake. In the center of it sat a large pavilion where the results of the excavation were stored. The steamcar came to a stop and several of the workmen gave them only a passing look, until a man emerged from the pavilion. He looked about Hawk’s age, and his clothes indicated he was Amshawish as well. He cut an impressive figure in colorful Berber style with a pair of pearl-handled pistols stuck through his belt. At his side, on a leash was an Egyptian lynx, or caracal, with a silver collar.

“Rebecca, Miss Mowi, Mr. Ramsey,” the Professor said, gesturing toward the Berber. “I would like you to meet my foreman, Shishank Ma. He’s the Amenokal, or chief, of the local Imshawshen Berber tribe. Imshawshen is the plural of Amshawish by the by. The women have camped on the far side of the lake, while the men have been kind enough to work for us here.” Judging by the silver the Imshawshen were wearing, Hawk guessed their choice to work the camp had more to do with what the Professor was paying.

“Azul, felawen. I am honored,” Shishank said, bowing his head.

“How was the work in my absence?” the Professor asked, his voice anxious.

“We’ve largely been cataloguing what we’ve already found,” Shishank said. “There were a few test digs up to the north that seem promising. There was potsherds from the Forty-Fourth dynasty.”

The Professor’s eyebrows went up. “Oh?”

“We’ve found pieces of statuary on the hill and a depression that could be an entrance to the tomb.”

“What… What else have you found?” Excitement raised the Professor’s voice.

“Nothing of note,” Shishank said. “We’ve sighted bandits outside the site, but there were no raids.”

“Are you sure they are not Bedouins?” Tori asked.

“The Bedouin will come for trade,” Shishank said. “They understand the rules of guest friendship. Bandits always maintain their distance.”

“Probably because what you have ain’t worth stealing,” Hawk said. In that instant, he felt everyone’s eyes on him. “If you ain’t been excavating, then they ain’t expecting you to have anything.”

“We have to secure the site against them,” Shishank said. “Or they would sneak in and take everything not nailed down.”

“Or they’re waiting to see what you pull out and then take it,” Hawk said. “It’s easier.”

“It is. You think like a thief, Mr. Ramsey.” Shishank smiled. Hawk shrugged as Shishank looked back at the Professor. “I think we should put more guards on the storehouses.”

“Of course,” the Professor said. “And now that I am back, I want to get started on as many excavations as we can, so we shall have to be more vigilant.”

“I will see to it,” Shishank said. “The Forty-Fourth Dynasty were Berbers. Our ancestors. We take the precautions seriously.”

“Good,” the Professor said. “I expect to start digging again in the morning.”

“Of course, Sir,” Shishank said. “In the meantime, the men are preparing a feast for Lady Isis and to mark your return. It will be ready by sunset.”

“Then I suggest you all rest up,” the Professor said, grinning. “Because an Amshawish feast is quite an event.”

***

It was late in the day when the heat finally broke. As the sun dropped into the lake and turned all the surrounding countryside golden, Hawk started exploring the camp. The pavilion housed most of their supplies as well as all the artifacts that had been recovered. Further up away from the lake he could see the mounds and trenches where the dig itself was happening.

There was a patch of reeds that offered some privacy down by the lake shore. Hawk sat down on the grass and filled his pipe. As he offered the smoke, he quietly sang the old songs that would ask for guidance, although in the back of his mind he wondered if he was asking the Lakota Wakanpi or the Egyptian gods.

Hawk was aware of Tori walking towards him as he prayed, but took no notice of her until she took a defensive stance. In a sequence of moves, she ran through some kind of self-defense that cumulated in a blast of fire from her hands.

Hawk leaped to his feet with his concentration scattered. “I’m sorry,” Tori said. “I didn’t see you there, Hawk.” She then stared at the pipe in his hands. “Offering prayers?”

“It’s how my people do it.” He looked at her again. “But that’s impressive, with the flames.”

“A simple old spell. There are stories back in the old days, in the time of Sneferu, that magicians could completely burn up their enemies,” she said. “These days it’s mainly for show. A flame spell won’t do much good against a gun…”

“But you scare or scald someone pretty good with it,” Hawk said.

“I could show you if you like,” she said. “If your hika is strong enough.”

“Of course,” Hawk said, following after her.

“Stand here, like this. It may help at first if you close your eyes,” she said. Hawk took up the stance he had seen Tori take earlier and then closed is eyes. “You must focus. You must feel your ka and the ka of every thing around you.”

Hawk closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the breeze through the reeds, the waterbirds in the distance, even the boats out on the lake. “Now, use the energy of your ka and feel it ignite just beyond your hand and push it outward. Then say the old word for fire, ahat. It will help focus your energy.”

Hawk opened his eyes as he saw a small pop that was more smoke than flame just in front of his hand. It was not even as impressive as the White conjurers he had seen in the various stage shows in America and Britain. “It will take some practice,” Tori said.

Hawk stood up and dusted himself off as he noticed Rebecca lurking around. She had been sitting by the lake, but she was watching them. But by now the smell of whatever the Imshawshen were cooking had filled the camp and it was impossible to think on anything else.