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Talar drummed her fingertips against the vinyl-covered seat, her eyes roving the room in search of interest, even as her ears soaked up any tidbits she may have forgotten. As a matter of fact, Miss Khatchoyan already knew everything there could possibly be about the four-month dig. Out of forty-six hand-picked college graduates, she was one out of three that had studied at Oxford. The bulk of the students had come from America and other areas of England. Germany, France, two from Asian countries, Mexico, Austria, Canada and even one from Venezuela was represented. She scanned the faces once more, picked up her pen, dropped it, picked it up again and played with the spring mechanism, then dropped it once more.
She ran through her thoughts again. Northern Egypt was highly populated, most of the people living around the head of the Nile River, which still flooded on a regular basis. Dams had been proposed, but nothing ever taken seriously. To dam the Nile? Impossible. And even such an amature as Talar knew the problems of a dam. And those problems would be amplified by a dam that would span one of the largest rivers known to man, that flooded so regularly that farmers knew how to plant and harvest in tune with the rising water. Southern Egypt, however, had a third of the population. Southwest Egypt was virtually uninhabited, a barran land of intermittant rock and sand, with few oasises. But one of these had just recently been discovered by air, and Oxford had been called for their young, enthusiastic students. It could only be reached by a narrow pass across the low range of Tachokry mountains. It was encircled by a rim of hard basalt, and from the air bore signs of having been an Egyptian stronghold or something of the kind.
"Maybe once it wasn't desert," Talar mumbled, doodling with her pen.
"Would you like to share something with the class?" the stern-eyed professor asked, pushing her horn-rims further up her aristocratic nose.
Talar sighed, running her hand through her thick, dark hair. "It's nothing important," she muttered.
The professor was having fun. Out of all her students, Talar had been one that had never been afraid of her. "Please share." she said flatly.
Talar sighed again, enjoying baiting the older woman. Slowly, she stretched to her full height and gestured slightly. "Miss Krystoff, I was just thinking on those topographical maps of the place we've been looking at. From all it seems, it's got water and rich soil there. Maybe once the area around was not covered with sand."
Professor Krystoff snorted. "Sit down. That's quite an unreasonable assumption. I'm supposing you've been in the area, then? If you know so much about it?" her words were sweet, but her tone sharp as a sword.
Suddenly, a lump rose in Talar's throat. Without a word, she stuffed her books in her bag and fled from the room, the class looking on confusedly. A sympathetic strawberry blonde sitting in the desk next to Talar's picked up a dropped pen and set it on her desk to remind her to give it back.
"Well!" the professor huffed. "What was that about?"
The strawberry blonde looked up. "She's been there . . . several times. She told me that her father was killed near there."
"Well! Miss Vienna Austria, I suggest you not disturb our lesson."
The Austrian wisely kept silent, but threw a dark glance towards the professor.
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Talar was told she would not have time to meet her fellow archaelogists until later. Slightly dissapointed, she threw her bags together, and drove to the airport. She recognized several of the students from her archaelogy class -- Candence and the Austrian strawberry-blonde. She waved, but didn't have a chance to talk to Candence until they'd landed.
Security was tight. She had to go through her baggage at the check-in counter, an arab soldier with his gun on-hand. If this was Europe, what would Egypt be like? She shook herself.
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"Beautiful!" breathed Talar, peering out the window at the lushness of the Nile Delta. Their plane had stopped off in Israel for fuel, and now they were flying into Kharga, on a small flight chartered specifically for the Oxford dig.
"What's the place called again?" The Austrian leaned towards the window to catch a glimpse, but the green receeded beyond the horizon. Now they followed a winding green thread that showed the position of the Nile.
Talar shrugged. "Nothing special. Daeli Oasis."