Page 214 of Tomb of the Sun King

“What does ‘kalb’ mean?” Ellie had quietly asked her brother.

“Er… Dog?” he replied awkwardly.

And so the dog—named Dog—trotted happily in their wake all the way to Al Mutiah, where Mr. Mahjoud booked them a pair of first-class compartments on the next departure up the now-repaired train line. Ellie had given in to the urge to close her eyes for a moment as they pulled out of the station—and the next thing she knew, she was blinking into wakefulness as the golden light of late afternoon streamed in through the window.

She was slumped against Adam’s shoulder. For something so solid, it made a remarkably comfortable pillow. Still, she sat up with a start, conscious of Padma sitting in regal splendor on the opposite bench of their compartment between Constance and Mr. Mahjoud.

Kalb looked up at her from where he lay sprawled across Adam’s boots.

“Goodness. I must have dozed off,” Ellie observed as the train jerked to a stop. “What station is this?”

“Cairo,” Adam replied wryly.

She looked up at him in surprise—and spotted a distinct damp spot on the pale fabric of his shirt.

“You’ve a bit of…” Ellie trailed off, her cheeks flushing as she realized the most likely source of the puddle on Adam’s shoulder.

Not that she was typically prone to drooling in her sleep.

Adam grinned back at her mercilessly as Kalb thumped his tail against the floor.

They disembarked quickly, as they had hardly any luggage to speak of. Even Padma had traveled exceptionally lightly, proving that she was quite capable of forgoing some of her usual finery when engaging in a pursuit.

They met up with Sayyid, Zeinab, and the other ladies out in the busy forecourt of the railway station, which was crowded with carriages, donkeys, and street vendors.

Ellie spotted a burly figure in a striped galabeya beside a cart full of little blue statues. She recognized her fake antiquities vendor and gave him a friendly wave.

The man’s eyes widened, and he quickly tapped his donkey, urging it into a trot that set his reproduction artifacts rattling as he made his escape.

Jemmahor sported a scrape on her chin. She wore it under her grin like a badge of honor. “You must promise you will not leave Egypt without seeing me again!” she threatened.

“Happily,” Ellie assured her.

“And I have not forgotten that you promised to teach me this jiu jitsu,” Jemmahor added pointedly to Constance.

“Oh, I think you will be absolutely splendid at it!” Constance assured her.

Umm Waseem stuck out her hand. “Allah yehmeeky, okhti. E'meli mashakel kteer.”

Ellie clasped Umm Waseem’s palm warmly. “But what is she saying?”

“She asks for God to protect you while you cause more trouble,” Jemmahor cheerfully translated.

“Ilâ l-liqâ’,” Umm Waseem finished with a hint of mischief.

She slung her canvas bag over her shoulder and slipped away, quickly indiscernible from the many other black-cloaked ladies that crowded the street.

“You all right?” Adam asked as Ellie watched the old smuggler go. “You look a bit like someone just made off with your puppy.”

“I was hoping to quiz Umm Waseem on the finer points of working with nitroglycerin compounds,” Ellie mused forlornly. “Only everything has happened so quickly.”

“Aww,” Adam said lightly. “What a shame.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes. “You don’t think it’s a shame at all.”

“I’m still recovering from the last time you got your hands on a pile of dynamite,” Adam replied. “Now come on. I think our ride is here.”

He steered her toward the Tyrrell carriage, which had pulled up to wait by the station door. They took a quick leave of Sayyid and Zeinab, who promised to rejoin them after they had checked on their home.

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