Vanessa woke up a bit late the next morning to the smell of coffee and breakfast cooking. Groggy and a little hungover, she dressed and stumbled out to find the professor in the kitchen, whistling cheerfully as he flipped pancakes.

“Good morning!” he called sunnily. “Go on and pour yourself some coffee and sit down. Breakfast will be along in just a moment!”

“You’re a saint, Abraham,” Vanessa said gratefully, and, coffee in hand, shuffled off to the dining room.

It was apparent that the professor had been using the room as an extension of his office. Half of the table was covered in papers and reference books and a large, detailed map of the Nubian Desert. There were several spots circled, one of which Vanessa recognized at once as the location of their last, aborted expedition.

Sipping her coffee, she ran her fingers over the spot in remorseful memory, until a paper lying near the map caught her eye. She frowned, reaching for it, already scanning the text—a scholarly piece from the 1800s about the Sons of Ham.

“Here we are!”

She looked up as Abraham bustled in carrying a tray full of food.

“Pardon the mess,” he said, scooting papers out of the way so he could set down the breakfast plates. “I’ve been preparing for a little expedition. You know how I get when I’m engrossed in my research!”

“Expedition?” Vanessa asked, forgetting the paper and sitting down. “Where to?”

“Oh, it’s just a little thing into the Nubian desert,” he replied dismissively. “Part of my consultation work. To tell the truth, I’m hardly even interested in the subject matter, but the pay is substantial and, well, a man my age needs to stay busy.”

“I’d love to hear about it,” Vanessa said, loading her plate with a pancake, fruit, and eggs.

“No, no, it’s not interesting, I promise,” Abraham said, waving the butter knife he was using to spread jam on his own pancake. “I’d much rather hear about your plans with Sheikh Ramin this morning.”

Vanessa had nearly forgotten her agreement with the Sheikh. She checked her watch and cursed.

“He’s showing me some of the exhibits he’s planning for the museum,” Vanessa lied, standing up and grabbing some fruit for the road. “And I’m late.”

Abraham chuckled. “I’ll call you a cab. Hurry and get ready.”

Pancake still in her mouth, Vanessa rushed to her room, dressing quickly in a simple white cotton button-up and khaki shorts with sturdy hiking shoes.

Saying a quick goodbye to Abraham, she hurried out to the cab and was soon standing on the steps of the museum where she’d arranged to meet Ramin. He was already there waiting, and he smiled when he saw her.

“I was starting to fear you weren’t coming,” he said when he saw her.

“I overslept,” she explained. “I drank a bit too much last night, my apologies.”

“I guessed as much,” he said with a laugh. “But don’t worry. The extra time allowed me to ensure we are fully prepared. I don’t expect us to find much today, but we can scout the area. Did you bring the map?”

“Of course,” Vanessa said, lifting the wooden case out of her backpack. Ramin showed her inside to a room where she opened the case, showing him the spot the map indicated, then unrolling a modern map.

“Calculating for changes in the landscape and borders,” she said, running her hand over the map, “it should be somewhere around here. Not such a huge area to search after all.”

“Not at all,” Ramin said, nodding. “We can take this road up to here, then horses the rest of the way.”

“If we’re very lucky,” Vanessa said with a smile, “we may find evidence of it today! We could start proper excavation tomorrow!”

“One can only hope,” Ramin agreed.

* * *

They drove out into the desert in a jeep, pulling a trailer behind it with a pair of strong horses within, from Ramin’s personal stables.

“I don’t actually know how to ride, you know,” Vanessa told him, talking loudly to be heard over the jeep as it rambled down the dirt road, surrounded by desert on either side. “I’ve ridden a camel before, but it was being led by someone else.”

“Well, being able to sit without falling off is half the battle,” Ramin assured her. “I’ll teach you, don’t worry.”

They soon reached the point where the road turned away from the direction they needed to go and Ramin pulled over, concealing the jeep behind a dune before he opened the trailer and brought out the horses.

“Watch carefully,” he instructed as he lifted down the blankets and saddles from the trailer’s storage. “I’ll show you how to saddle them. You can’t hope to ride a horse you can’t saddle properly.”

“What about bareback riding?” Vanessa asked.

“Much more difficult than it looks,” Ramin said with a small laugh.

Vanessa watched carefully as Ramin saddled the horses, talking to them and soothing them as he worked.

“Horses are incredibly intelligent animals,” Ramin said. “Smarter than dogs. Smarter than some people I’ve met. But they must be treated with respect. Some trainers think you can bully or frighten a horse into obeying you. They will harass an animal until it is terrified of them and obeys because it knows it will be hurt otherwise. But a frightened animal is an unpredictable animal. When you make yourself the greatest danger to your own horse’s safety, you can hardly be surprised when they eventually, inevitably, fight you or run from you.”

Ramin’s horses were calm and comfortable. Even with as little experience as Vanessa had, she could see how easily they moved around each other.

“Do you train them yourself?” she asked.

“I work with a professional trainer,” Ramin explained. “I prefer it to be done by an expert. But any horse I am going to personally ride I make sure to be involved in the training of. I want them to know and trust me.”

“It seems like they do,” Vanessa said, a little awed as she stroked one of the animal’s noses.

“I’ve spent many years with these two,” Ramin said proudly, tightening a strap under the horse’s belly. “I know them better than almost anyone.”

“How often do you ride them?” Vanessa asked as he helped her up into her seat.

“It depends,” Ramin said. “I try to ride at least once a week. Sometimes, I’m in the stables twice a day.”

He laughed, but Vanessa could see bitterness there.

“It helps to keep my mind off of things,” he said, then shook off the lingering shadow of sadness and took her horse’s lead. “All right, I want you to squeeze your legs gently around him. A good rider on a well-trained horse should be able to control it with just their thighs.”

Vanessa did as he told her and made a small surprised noise as the horse started moving.

“Good,” he said. “Now, press in with your left heel.”

Vanessa did and the horse turned away from the pressure, moving right. He had her try in the opposite direction next, and Vanessa smiled proudly when it worked.

“This is much easier than I expected,” Vanessa said, surprised.

“Well, not to be immodest,” Ramin said. “But she is a very good horse. You could still use a lot of practice.”

“I have the basics,” Vanessa insisted. “Let’s get going!”

“All right, if you’re certain,” Ramin said with a laugh, swinging onto his own horse with easy grace and pulling a compass from his shirt. “This way.”

They set off into the desert, the sand swallowing the jeep and the road behind them in what seemed no time at all.