Another day just watching the heat lift off the dunes, thought Karida to herself.
Outside the walls of her market stall, past the archways inviting any passers-by to slip in and enjoy a little shade while they browse, the locals milled past on their way to shop for other things, for day-to-day supplies, for a bite to eat, but not for the relics that lined her shelves. When looking for a fancy ancient nicknack to decorate one’s home with, people seldom pick from those dug up in their own town.
This fact was not lost on Karida as she brushed a bit of windswept sand out of the ears of an Anubis staring her down from the other end of the counter. She thought back to the days not too long ago when, thanks to a foreign interest she never quite trusted but blessed with deep pockets, business was brisk. The shop at the time stood merely as a decoration to keep the small trickle of adventurous tourists amused with whatever baubles she had left over after making the real sales. That interest dried up overnight a few years ago, though. New management, they said. A shift in company focus. Now that small trickle of tourists made the whole of her business, and in her little decoration of a shop the dozens of little decorative statues looked as bored as she felt.
So when one of the figures milling past in the market square paused, regarded her, and stepped inside, she almost forgot to contain her look of surprise.
“Is this Simhara Antiques and Curios?” The sharply-dressed foreign woman greeted her with a smile.
“It is” Karida offered her hand across the counter, flashing her best saleswoman’s grin. “You must be well-travelled indeed, madam to know us by name. Welcome. What can I interest you in today?”
“I’m looking for a couple by the name of Hammad and Karida Sahrawi. They owned this place once.”
Karida brightened. “Well then you’re in luck! We still do, and I am Mrs. Sahrawi. And who is it I have the pleasure of meeting today?”
“Mary Downing. And the pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” Mary took a moment to scan the shelves around her. A few of the trinkets had the look of the real thing, but overshadowing them were gilded statues and gem-encrusted amulets not quite scuffed and crumbling enough for the age they claimed. A realization she decided against pointing out.
“I’ve heard the two of you are best source for all things ancient and mysterious this side of Setra."
“A flattering claim, though I would not dispute it.” Karida replied with well-feigned modesty. But she did not fail to notice Mary’s tactful indifference as she browsed the wares around them. Clearly, her new customer was no mere foolish tourist. “And if it’s rare relics you are after, we have an extensive collection. Much moreso than we can display in this small space.”
“Actually...” Mary considered her answer a moment. “I would love to see what you have to offer. As you seem to have gathered already, I’m not your everyday collector. I’m here after something very specific and special.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place, madam. My husband is upstairs. Let me fetch him and he’ll be happy to show you the rest of our collection. I am sure we can find exactly what you’re looking for.”
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“It may not look like much from the outside, but this building is where we keep some of our finest merchandise.” Hammad led Mary through a heavy set of wooden doors. Rows of lights hummed to life, but the thick veil of dust in the air and sand on the old stone floor muffled their footsteps as Hammad led his guest on a tour. Rows of shelves covered in ancient bits of stoneware and trinkets slowly gathered dust, while sarcophagi and more substantial statues lurked in out-of-the-way corners and at the ends of each hall.
Mary browsed them all with a critical eye while Hammad hovered quietly beside her. While most of the items in their shop had the mark of fakes to an educated buyer (and indeed, a work table tucked in a far corner gave away their likely source), the contents of the storehouse shelves were all quite genuine. She half expected to find a mummy waiting in some of the sarcophagi wedged into shadowy corners. She made a point to take her time inspecting the wares, though, letting the silence settle in between herself and Hammad. Giving him time to really begin to wonder what she was looking for.
As his expression gradually transitioned from pride to hopeful curiosity, she finally spoke up. “Your collection is impressive. It’s good to see you’re still in the business of serious excavation, because it’s that which I really after.”
“Oh! You are looking for not one specific relic but, ah, a supplier then?” She could almost see the stacks of money filling Hammad’s imagination as he turned around smiled broadly at her.
She turned her attention away from a shelf of gold figurines and could not help but give him a conspiring look. “Oh, not of the relics themselves, but something far more valuable that’s out there in the sand alongside them. It should be right up your alley, though.”
Hammad raised one eyebrow, his mind spinning with the possibilities. The desert hid many treasures, of which the fragments left behind by ancient civilizations were simply among the prettiest. He had no idea what business Mary was interested in, but he knew the look of ulterior motives when he saw it, and he also knew that the sort of lucrative deals that often come with ulterior motives are rarely discussed over a desk in the main office. “I must admit, I am intrigued. Perhaps Karida and I can both meet with you sometime soon to discuss the matter further. After market hours?”
“My thoughts exactly. Would you and your wife like to join me for dinner tonight?” Mary’s conspiring look grew into a grin. Hammad had given her exactly the answer she wanted.
“We would be delighted, Miss Downing.”
“It will be a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Sahrawi.”
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By the time Mary made it back up the winding road to her hilltop villa, it was nearly noon, and the sun beat down with a vengeance. A brisk breeze blew down from the mountain and offered no relief, only blasting hot sand into her face and doing its best to try and sour her mood before she made it to the front door.
“A curse on whoever decided on a modest dress code inside this oven.” she muttered to herself once safely indoors, unbuttoning her jacket and draping it over the back of the nearest available chair.
“I think whoever it was must’ve known how good you looked in a suit.” A nonchalant voice replied from the kitchen.
Mary turned around and took a moment to admire the view of the fair-haired man standing with his back to her, busily chopping vegetables. Immediately, she forgot all about the roasting desert sun and the mood it’d gotten her in. “Speaking of looking good,” she purred, stepping up behind him and winding her fingers in the weave of his fishnet shirt, “is this for me?”
Simon looked up from the chopping block, glancing back at Mary out of the corner of his eye with the smallest flirtatious smile while gesturing toward his cooking. “And so is this. I think I’ve figured out how to get it perfect with a home kitchen.”
Mary stood up on tiptoe and looked down over Simon’s shoulder. “Fishnet and Shawarma? Oh, you tempting creature.”
Simon played coy, returning to his prep work as Mary rolled away to lean against the counter beside him. “I take it things went well with the Sahrawis?”
“So far? Just as planned. I’ve got Mr. And Mrs. Sahrawi coming over for dinner tonight to discuss my little proposal. They’re about as honest as I expected them to be, so I imagine they’ll be up for it.” Mary casually swiped a sliver of cucumber to nibble off Simon’s cutting board. “But it can’t hurt to butter them up a bit first. I picked up a nice-looking bottle of pomegranate wine while I was out. Maybe you could make something to pair with it tonight?”
“Oh, I do like a challenge. I think...” he mused on it a moment. “Yes, I know just the thing! The three of you are going to love it. Promise.”
“And that’s why I bring you with me whenever I leave the island. Always up for anything, and full of surprises.” Mary’s tone softened, and she leaned over to plant a kiss on the man’s mesh-covered shoulder, lingering there a moment to enjoy his scent. “Well, I’ll leave that up to your expertise. After a morning of getting sandblasted and cooked alive, I am in need of a shower.”
Simon watched Mary walk away, letting her get halfway to the stairs before casually suggesting, “Need any help with the hard-to-reach places?”
Mary paused mid-step and turned around, mulling over the possibilities while a growing smile got the best of her and she beckoned Simon toward her with one finger. “I think lunch can wait.”
