SUMMARY 36 - A NEW BEGINNING
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Seven people huddle around a carefully drawn chart. It depicts the western hemisphere. A large black swatch breaks through the Indian Ocean, through the middle of a triangle formed by three large dots. One of the people, a woman, impatiently breaks away from the table. She has a think Russian accent.

"We've looked at it for hours, already. I just don't see what it could mean."

Another person pipes up; a large but handsome man. "Didn't you say you saw a start chart too, Smythe? Do you remember what it looked like?"

A small, nervous man gives a start and looks up from the chart. "Well.... let me think. Maybe." He takes out some paper and a pencil, and begins sketching. As he does so, his hands begin to shake a bit. After a few moments, his concentration is obviously totally absorbed in the sketching. After a few minutes, he brings the paper to the rest of the people. "Yes. Yes, it looked like this. It shows twelve planets, which is kind of strange, but it's definitely our solar system." He shrugs. "But I don't see anything special about it."

The woman comes back to the table, and glances at the chart of the solar system. "Hrm. The moon, between the earth and the sun like that.... Is what you call... eclipse?"

The others, with stunned looks of a varying degree, look at the woman, and then at the chart. They nod. Excitedly, they all huddle around the charts again. The Russian woman speaks again. "Well, when is the next solar eclipse with that path?" Another gentleman pipes up, "Where is an almanac?"

A smooth-faced man with sharp features fetches an almanac, and looks through it. "January 14, 1926. The last one in that area was 3 years ago, but it wasn't total. They happen... around every 2 or 3 thousand years."

Lively discussions ensue, about dates of Egyptian dynasties, and fingers and toes. At one point, another woman walks to another room; returns. "The statue has 16 fingers and toes, for what that's worth."

Eventually, the discussions die down. A young-ish priest says "Well, we should probably get going tomorrow. Does anyone object if we stop in Rome?" The others shake their heads, and move to their respective rooms.

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The non-Russian woman hunches over a dusty old tome in a well-appointed hotel room. She reads a description, moves her hands in a complicated motion, then frowns and shakes her head. This repeats several times, and the young woman begins rubbing her temples. The Russian woman, who is lounging on the bed, speaks up. "Lizabet, give it a rest. Perhaps you'll feel better after a walk?" The young woman shakes her head absently. "No, I feel I've almost got it. Later I'll walk with you, Katya." Katya pouts prettily and turns back to her own book.

The young woman starts reading again, and suddenly hits herself on the forehead. "How could I have been so stupid? Of course, it goes *this* way!" She moves her hands in another complicated fashion, very similar to the others, and smiles happily. She jumps up from the table, closing the book, and takes a deep breath. "Got it. Want to walk now?"

Katya grins back at Elizabeth. "Sure. This book cannot compare to Marx, anyway."

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Another man from the table, incredibly handsome and stylish, is approached by a nervous looking young man. "Mr. Cartwright? I have the information you requested, sir. About the Ivory Wind, sir. It has been to Shanghai, and is now back in London, sir." Don frowns. "I'm sorry, sir, that's all I could find." Don waves his hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, lad, go about your business. Thank you." The young man, obviously relieved, makes a small bow and scurries off.

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The sun rises hot over Cairo- the city seems to bake under its glare. Few people walk the streets, and those that do seem to be in slow motion. A horse-cab makes its way to the New Victoria, where it lets out the wilted party. They hurry gratefully for the shade of the lobby.

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After dark has fallen, Elizabeth and Katya take Vincent through the streets of the city to a modest but obviously wealty home, where they are greeted with a booming voice and large smiles. "Ah, the ladies! You must join us for a feast, honored guests! Then we shall speak of business!" They do not re-emerge for quite some time.

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After the sun moves away from the worst part of the day, the smooth-cheeked man hurries to the Egyptian Museum, where he approaches an aged librarian. "Mr. Kalfour? I wonder if you might have this book." Kalfour's jaw drops, and it takes some seconds before he looks at the piece of paper and stammers, "Why, yes. That's- erm- just in the rare books collection. Please follow me."

Inside the rare books room, Kalfour is obviously quite happy. "You live, Adrian! You all live? We have been so worried!" Adrian nods, and inquires about the situation in the city. Kalfour sighs, and puts a hand to his forehead. "Ah, not so good."

They speak for a few minutes about the political situation. "I found out nothing about two of the artifacts, but the dagger is in Russia, in Hermitage."

Kalfour brightens. "And one of you, she is Russian, yes? Good. I must speak with her. Arrange it."

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That night, Elizabeth and Katya giggle as they don absolutely scandalous clothing. The men in the room alternately look away quickly and watch with a strange kind of fascination. After they are finished, they don large native dresses and accompany Don to some of the seedier parts of Cairo.

Once in a qualla, they remove the large dresses, and seat themselves with Don, looking around the room. Kalfour approaches them, gives Don some money, and takes the ladies into a back room. They talk in whispers about red stones, daggers, and communications channels before mussing their hair and returning to the main room.

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The next day, Adrian hurries to one of the largest mosques in the city. Eventually, he finds the man he seeks, only to be granted 30 seconds while being shown out. He takes a deep breath, and begins his story. The distinguished, commanding older man stops in his tracks at mention of the Black Pharoah. He exchanges glances with the well-built man carrying a scimitar, and nods at Adrian. "Very well. We shall talk now." They walk back to the Najir's office.

Once inside, Adrian continues his story. Ahmed, the Najir of the mosque, nods and stands. "I will show you what it is they want. It is very well protected, but you must see that for yourself. We have contained it for several hundred years now..." He removes a key from his robe and unlocks a door in his office, beckoning Adrian to follow.

They pass through several more iron doors, all locked, and descend around 25 feet before stopping at a final door. Ahmed opens it. Inside is one large chamber, where an item is guarded by six ulammas with scimitars. It is a narrow band of gold chain, with a black gem set in it. As Adrian's eyes are drawn to the gem, it seems to flicker color from red to black to purple to black again.

"The girdle of Nitocris."

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The next day, everyone packs up the little bit of clothing they've removed. Elizabeth goes to see Kalfour one last time; they argue, but eventually she extracts a promise from him. "I will not move the girdle, then. Your arguments have merit. But I still think it needs magical protection."

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All save Katya gather on the deck of a luxurious ship, watching a city draw nearer. All save Katya know the city only in tales- that no passports are required to enter, that there are people of virtualy every oppressed nationality, that you can purchase weapons or young girls equally as easily and cheaply. As they approach the city, they smell the Wang-Poo river and see the great collection of boats there.

As they draw closer, they begin to whisper excitedly to one another, pointing at a ship. It bears the name "Dark Mistress".

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The rest of the group joins Katya as they leave the ship, confronted by a throng of people, all shouting and pressing. After some tense moments, the group hails a rickshaw and is whisked away to the relative tranquility of the British concession.

Once inside the British concession, the rickshaw makes its way to a truly impressive hotel. As the group enters an opulent lobby, Elizabeth and Don visibly relax, handing their bags off to an attentive bellboy with scarcely a look. The others appear to be in various states of discomfort; Katya scowling to herself, Smythe looking around nervously. Elizabeth negotiates a large suite of rooms on an upper floor, and the party makes their way to it.

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The concierge looks up with a pleased smile as Vincent approaches. "A missionary? Well, there is one outside the concession; I'd use caution travelling there, Father. Can we send a message for you instead?"

Vincent nods, and asks to write it himself. The concierge, smiling still, takes the message and drops it. Before it hits the floor, a small boy has grabbed it and is running out the door.

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Katya, Adrian, and Elizabeth strike out for the French concession. Once there, Katya leads them through a crazy geography of dress shops and bars, all of the signs in Russian. Finally, though, she leads them to a moderately run-down building, and knocks on the door. A conversation in Russian ensues, and ends with the group going up three flights. An aged woman answers the door. More Russian ensues, with a confused Elizabeth curtsying as they leave.

Some time later, Katya, Adrian, and Elizabeth find themselves in a dimly lit bar. Katya chats with the bartender in Russian, inquiring about an old friend.

Suddenly, they hear a booming voice call out for Katya. It is a large but handsome Russian man, who picks Katya up and swings her around before securing a table for four. Smiling and happy, Katya and Yevgeny speak quickly in Russian. Elizabeth and Adrian drink.