Chapter Text
The air hung thick with heat and smoke. The kind that clings to skin and fabric alike. The evening sun trickled through trellis, bled gold rays onto street stones, catching dust and porcelain in the open-air ahwah. Locals, tourists and adventurers alike roam the streets outside like grains of sand drifting through the desert. The urban noise is enough to distract from the one-sided conversation being had at a small table within the trellised walls of the ahwah. Coffee in hand-made cups, a bowl of dates, a shisha in the center of the table leaking smoke, begging to be inhaled. All perfect distractions for absent-minded hands.
Beni talks.
He always talks.
About Americans. About money. About prophecy. About things that serve his purpose.
His hands move too much when he talks.
His voice is too loud for this conversation. Not loud enough for Nadia to consider this a two-person conversation. His words blur together, blending with the urban noise of Cairo in the afternoon. Afternoon Tea has taken place, many patrons exit establishments to pursue their next quarry.
Nadia sits across from him, still, relaxed. Her fingers lightly grazing the rim of her coffee cup, her eyes – steady, attentive, fixed just over Beni’s shoulder. He doesn’t need to know that she is disengaged.
She nods at the right moment, smiles when he smiles. He seems encouraged – the conversation is going well.
His words fall on deaf ears.
Beyond the ahwah, the Cairo Museum of Antiquities breathes. Inhaling and exhaling scholars, laborers, soldiers and tourists - patterns and foot traffic that she has identified and dismissed – usual, normal.
The breeze blows the curtains of the ahwah gently, wafting shisha smoke from a nearby table. Nadia’s gaze remains fixed on the doors of the Museum.
The doors of the Museum open sharply, allowing a man and a woman to quickly step out and bustle into the street.
Nadia’s focus sharpens. Expected.
The woman of the pair quickly gathers her skirts and walk briskly alongside the man. They walk close enough to be companionable, but not romantic. Also expected.
Nadia’s eyeline shifts casually from Beni’s left shoulder to his right, tracking the pair down the street. Her light brown eyes narrow, sharpening with focus. From this distance, the pair appear to be discussing something excitable given the smile on the woman’s face. The man grimaces – a quarrel?
No. Their close proximity and playful nature thus far indicate that whatever is troubling the man may pass.
Nadia straightens her posture, shifting one leg down from its resting place over the other.
Beni is still talking.
“… and I told them, I said, you need someone who knows the desert, the unseen paths between the dunes, and – “
She stands abruptly, cutting through his sentence. He pauses, eyes widening in offense, then blinking in surprise. “What-?”
Nadia does not break her gaze from the pair, now briskly strolling nearly out of sight from the ahwah.
“Come,” she says plainly, already turning away from their table.
No explanation. No urgency. Expectation.
He rustles payment from his pocket and stands quickly from his chair, nearly knocking over the table. Babbling something from the conversation he assumed they were still having, with questions mixed in on their sudden departure. Nadia does not honor his confusion with answers.
Cairo’s streets are shifting patterns of people, young and old, rich and poor; spilling from establishments, and some pooling around merchants.
Ahead, the man and woman are moving quickly through the crowds. Intentional.
Nadia follows behind – not too close, not too far. Far enough to remain out of view, close enough to pivot should they change directions.
‘She likely received word of the key. The man is new,' Nadia internally ponders, not allowing her gaze to falter.
Each step practiced, each squeeze between patrons a fluid beat. “Afwan (pardon me) – “ she murmurs to a patron, slipping carefully between gathered groups.
“Hey – ah, excuse me – Nadia, wait –“ Beni chirps from somewhere behind. Nadia continues, ignoring him for now. His usefulness ran out long before they sat down at the ahwah.
Cairo prison rises from the dust ahead, stone and shadow cast over sand. The pair disappears through its gates with haste.
Nadia matches their pace, not breaking stride as Beni continues to trudge along behind her.
A hand catches the crook of her arm.
“Are you mad?!” Beni hisses, breathless and eyes widened, glancing towards the guards posted near the gates. “You cannot just walk in there – “
For a fraction of a second, the gates loom larger than they should. Time slipping.
She pauses, not because he pulled her aside, but of her own will. Posture unchanged – shoulders relaxed, spine straight, eyes alert and focused on the task at hand.
“They are not wandering,” she says quietly. “They are seeking.” Beni scoffs, but it falters into rambling.
“Seeking what? Trouble, most certainly, but – “
Her eyes shift to him, and for a moment, something flickers in them. Underneath the focus is something akin to urgency. Thinly veiled.
“Hamunaptra.”
The city lands between them. He stills, processing. Nadia watches his realization take hold, letting it settle in his mind.
“If she has found someone who knows the way,” she continues, softer now, measured. “They will not go alone.”
He tightens his grip on her arm. “And what is that to us?”
Now, she turns her head fully towards him. Not rushed, not desperate. Intentional.
“What if they arrive before we do?”
A beat.
“What if they lay claim to everything beneath it?”
Riches.
Nadia does not speak again. She does not need to.
Beni’s expression shifts – fear folding neatly into greed.
As intended.
Nadia holds his gaze just long enough to be certain. Then slips her arm free of his grasp.
She adjusts the falls of her headscarf, ensuring that the lower half of her face is sheerly veiled. Unrecognizable.
Smooth out the wrinkles of her robe, brushing away built-up sand.
Composed.
She strides towards the gates of the prison with purpose.
No longer following.
Arriving.