“I’m confused,” Tam said, staring about him.  Jon gripped his brother’s hand in his unmarked one and stared at the mess around them.

            Hellin Blackfeather leapt down into the corridor, where Doctor Blackfeather caught her with practiced ease and set her down.  She left his arms to gather Ellea and Djaren close to her in a hug.  Jon was caught up next, along with Tam, and then the still shaky seeming Professor.  “I’m sorry, dears, he was never meant to come here,” Hellin said, breathless.  “He won’t bother us again.”

            “I’ll make sure of it,” Corin said gravely.  He set down a large black antique great sword--not a tool of flame and void--against the corridor wall and grasped both the Professor’s hands in his own.  He looked the Professor over, worriedly.  “How are you unharmed?   I didn’t make it to you in time.” Doctor Blackfeather looked even paler than usual.  He grabbed the Professor in a hug, while Hellin caught up Djaren and Ellea a second time.  “I am sorry, little brother.  I never thought he could find us, find you.  I’m sorry, so sorry, Eabrey.”

            “I’ve got you,” Hellin told her children.  “He’s gone.  He’s gone now.” 

            Ellea buried her face in her mother’s hair.  Djaren submitted to the second hug for a moment, but then pulled away, to stand beside his father.

            Jon accepted his second round of hugs without complaint, feeling shakier now that he felt safe than he had when everything was terrible.  He didn’t want to cry in front of people.

            “That was not a rival archeologist.” Tam stated, looking at the mess on the ground.

            “No,” the Professor agreed, his voice still shaky.  He stared at the pieces of the rotting man.

            “I have enemies,” Doctor Blackfeather said.  He sounded weary.  Djaren looked up at him, and father and son locked eyes.

            “Enemies with severe leprosy?” Tam looked skeptical.

            “Something like that.”

            Hellin was not content until she had examined the Professor herself for bullet holes.  The silver armor was entirely gone, leaving no trace of its existence but the ruined bullets on the ground.

            “I’m fine,” the Professor assured Hellin.  “It was quite a remarkable experience.  I think I owe Jon here my life.  And he may owe us some valuable information.  Whatever did you find in that tomb?”

            Jon shrugged, suddenly nervous under so many eyes.  He lifted his hand, and the silver lines on his palm lit and gleamed in the torchlight.

            Doctor Blackfeather frowned at it. “We’ll look at this later, indoors, and in the light.”

            Tam took Jon’s hand and lifted it to have a look.  “Does it hurt?” he asked, making a face.  “Can you peel it off?  We could try soap.”

            “It tingles sometimes,” Jon said.  “It was on the tomb lid, with an inscription.  The writing is still there.  I don’t know how to take it off.  Will Ma be mad, do you think?  I didn’t mean to pick it up.  I’m sorry.  Are you very angry, sir?”  He looked up at the Professor. 

            The Professor met Jon’s eyes and shook his head.  “It chose you.  These things don’t happen by accident.  And with it, you saved me. I am not angry.”

            Doctor Blackfeather frowned and looked over the emblem.  “Well, sometimes by accident.”  He smiled a little ruefully.  “But there always seems to be a greater reason beyond.  Regardless, Jon, you saved my brother, and for that, I and my family are grateful to you.”

            “Accidents?  Oh, the Seal,” Hellin murmured.  “We should certainly see that he’s really safe too.”

            “He would know about things like this.”  Doctor Blackfeather indicated Jon’s palm.  “And I need to talk to him about how that got into a body, and found us here,” Doctor Blackfeather looked at the ground with distaste.  

“Sir,” Jon said.  “Bad things happened to people in there,” he gestured toward the door.  “I don’t know if anyone’s . . .”  He trailed off.

            Doctor Blackfeather met his eyes and nodded.  “I will see if there is anything that can be done.  Anyone in need of aid will have it, do not fear.” 

Hellin looked worried and glanced at the Doctor.  He nodded at her, and then disappeared down the dark passageway.

            “Let’s go inside, and away from this,” Hellin said, guiding Jon and Ellea before her, back toward the tents.  “We’ll discuss this and Jon’s discovery over tea.”

            Ellea glanced at Jon.  “I think your new thing is very pretty.” 

            Jon blinked at her.  She slipped her small hand into his, and together they processed back to the tents, and tea.

            Kara lagged behind, unsure, still looking at the scattered remains of the rotted man.  Djaren stayed too, until the others were a little further on.

            “Why didn’t he kill me?” Djaren asked her, softly.  “He could have.  He just talked to you.” 

            “How should I know?” Kara said.  “Whatever he thinks, um, thought, I don’t know him.  I’d remember.”

            “What do you think he meant, he’d find you?”

            Kara shivered.  “He was a crazy dead man.  What do you think he meant about plans for you?”

            Djaren frowned, and suppressed a shiver himself.  “He was probably just crazy.  And um, sick.  Father, who was he?”

            Kara glanced up, alarmed, to see that the burning-eyed beautiful dark angel-turned-nobleman was standing near, a little too tall and too pale for a human, even in his current form. 

            Doctor Blackfeather laid a hand on his son’s shoulder.  Kara kept her distance from the Doctor, circling him slowly, looking for where he kept his wings.  He might be pretty, but he wasn’t right. 

            “That is some unfortunate man who surrendered his will to an evil,” Doctor Blackfeather said.  “What spoke to you was something else.”

            “But who was he?”

            Doctor Blackfeather frowned.  “An old evil that should no longer be in this world. I had hoped he could never bother us.  He has learned some new tricks.”

            “Will he come back?” Djaren asked.

            “Not if I have anything to do with it,” the Doctor said.  His face was grim.  Kara caught the glint of unearthly green fire in his eyes. 

            “And what are you?” she asked him. 

            He paused, and considered her carefully.  “What we all are; whatever we make of ourselves.”

            “That’s not a full answer.”

            “It’s the answer I am giving you.”

“Back there, there wasn’t anyone to save, was there?”

He shook his head sadly.  “The healers have arrived, but I do not think their skills are equal to the task they have.  They will try.”

“To help tomb thieves,” Kara was skeptical.

“To help the people whose past we have been allowed to uncover.  We are here by permission of the people.  Without the people’s good will, we lose all we have done here.  I do not want the ill will of the village.  Tonight’s tragedy serves no one.”

Kara frowned at the ground.  “You’re not supposed to care,” she muttered.

“Because if we care, you might need to?” Djaren guessed.

“Shut up,” Kara told him.

Ahead, the others had paused.  “Come along,” Hellin called, “Let’s get everyone inside and cleaned up.”

            “Look,” Kara said.  “It was strange and everything, but I’m leaving you freaks and your enemies.”

            “Not until after you’ve had some tea,” Hellin called back.  “Corin, do enforce that, will you?”

            Kara looked up at the pale avenger dubiously.  She couldn’t outrun something otherworldly with wings.  She hesitated, looking from adult to adult with distrust.

            “You saved all our lives,” Djaren said quickly.

            “You did,” Anna added, coming back to smile at Kara, “and we’d never have made it through that passage without you.”

            “Then we owe you a reward,” Corin Blackfeather told Kara. 

            “What kind?” Kara looked at him with suspicion.

            “Let’s start with tea, and talk about it from there.”

            “Don’t you have anything stronger?” Kara asked, falling into step beside him.

            “We made rather a mess of the tomb, Father.  I’m sorry,” Djaren said.

            “Oh dear,” the Professor said, overhearing, as they caught up to the waiting group.

            “I would rather have you in one piece than all the treasures of the Ancients,” Doctor Blackfeather said.

©2007 Ruth Lampi