“So do I,” I said. “My name is Latro. Does that help?”

  His eyes opened a trifle wider at my name; but he said, “No. …No, it doesn't. There was a Latros at the games one year. So I've heard. I wasn't there, though I would have liked to go. He won the pankration, they said. He was a terrifying fighter.”

  “Latro is in charge of our troops,” Thotmaktef explained. “I know he's a fine wrestler, but he's certainly not a bully.”

  “Troops?”

  “It was thought we might need some fighting men in Wawat.”

  “I'd say you have at least one good one.” Agathocles drummed his chest once more. “Back home … I'd almost swear … This Latros, the pankrationist, was a freedman of Pausanias's. This isn't the same man?”

  Thotmaktef shook his head. “Latro's a soldier of Sidon. You probably know much more about those Crimson ports than I do, but as I understand it, it's a vassal city of the Great King's.” (All this was new to me, but I have no doubt it is the truth. I have asked Thotmaktef where he learned so much about me, and he says Muslak told him.)

  “That's not you?” Agathocles asked me.

  I said it was not, unless the Pausanias he had mentioned was king of Sidon.

  “He's a prince of Rope.” Agathocles looked at me oddly. “Very famous.”

  I shrugged, and my slave Uraeus stepped in to explain that we had come to buy wine, and that it must be the best. All this was said in the tongue most men use here.

  “That's correct,” Thotmaktef told Agathocles, “and we'll buy no jar we haven't tasted.”

  “Nor would I sell you such a jar,” Agathocles declared, “but I must see your money before you taste my wine.”

  I showed him some of the silver and gold from my pouch.

  He smiled and got a jar for us, beautifully painted. “This is the very best I brought back from my last voyage. Grown in Cimon's own estate, on south-facing hillsides. You don't have to believe that, but it's the simple truth and your palate will testify to it. Would you like to taste it?”

  We said we would, and he produced tiny cups. It was indeed excellent, warm and fragrant, dry without being sour. We asked the price, which seemed high but not outlandish. Thotmaktef offered to pay that much and a bit more for two jars, and eventually a bargain was struck. I paid.

  “We need water, too,” Thotmaktef explained. “Not ordinary water, the best and purest water obtainable.”

  “I know the best well in Kemet,” Agathocles assured us. He left his clerk in charge of his shop and took us there himself, telling us truly that we would never find Charthi's house without a guide.

  It was a house of many wings and courts some distance from the city, with walled grounds three times the size of most farms. After half a dozen arguments and repeated explanations, the porter went in to speak with some upper servant, leaving the four of us (and the donkey boy) to the beggars who haunted its gate and two savage dogs whose chains let them attack anyone who came too near it.

  Admitted at last, Agathocles, Thotmaktef, and I found Charthi lounging in the shade, watching his children play among fountains, flowers, and vines. Agathocles explained that we were strangers sailing south, at which a look passed between them.

  “You are welcome in my house,” Charthi told us, “and welcome to as much water as will load a dozen donkeys. I've the finest well anywhere, exactly as my friend Agathocles told you. But I could never forgive myself if I did not show you hospitality. You've already sailed far and walked far, and the day is warm. Wouldn't you like to taste my dates and figs, with something better than water in your cups?”

  We thanked him, and he led us to a large table in another part of his garden. “You journey to Wawat, my friend tells me,” he said when all had been served. “If your errand is confidential, I will take no offense. If it is not, however, I may be able to assist you. Is it something we may speak of?”

  “It is not confidential,” Thotmaktef told him, “though we do the satrap's bidding. He sends my master, with a ship and nine soldiers, to report upon the south.”

  “I have met that worthy prince,” Charthi said, “and he must know our city well. He has been here several times.”

  “We must go much farther south,” Thotmaktef explained. “Farther than your city and farther even than Wawat.”

  “Ah! To Yam?”

  “And beyond it,” Thotmaktef said.

  “You are indeed venturesome men, and I well understand why my friend Agathocles brought you to me.” There were no smiles now, and for a moment I thought Charthi might weep. “My eldest son, my own dear Kames, has vanished into that land. What do you know of the gold mines?”

  Thotmaktef's eyes flew wide at that. Perhaps mine did as well. “Nothing,” he said. “Or very little. I know the pharaohs of old had such mines. They are said to be worked out.”

  “So they are,” Charthi whispered. “That is indeed what men say. But are they? Who has seen them?”

  “Not I,” said Agathocles.

  “Nor I. The Hellenes, the men of our friend's country, have advanced the art of mining far beyond anything our forefathers knew. Agathocles, you have silver?”

  “Not I, but my city. Athens possesses rich silver mines. There is no land in all the world that does not know and honor the silver owl.”

  Charthi addressed me. “You are a Hellene yourself, are you not, Latro?”

  I shrugged; but when Agathocles addressed me in the Hellene tongue, I answered, finding that I know it better than that of Kemet.

  “In my judgment he is not,” Agathocles told Charthi. “He is surely no Rope Maker, for he has not the broad alpha of the Silent Country. He speaks more or less like a man of my own city, but I do not believe he was born there.”

  “Neither do we,” Thotmaktef said. “He is a mercenary in the Sidonian service, as I told you. The king of Sidon serves the Great King, thus no Hellene would serve Sidon.”

  Agathocles smiled and leaned back in his seat. “Don't be too sure of that, Holy Thotmaktef. The Great King will conquer Hellas just as he conquered Kemet. If a mighty empire could not stand against him, do you imagine our quarreling cities can?”

  “No,” Thotmaktef told him, “but you Hellenes do.”

  Agathocles shook his head. “Not all of us are such fools. Why not surrender peaceably, I say, as so many places have? Will any of you brand me a traitor for saying what I just did? For trying to save the lives of thousands of my fellow citizens?”

  “I will not,” Thotmaktef told him.

  “Nor will I,” said Charthi, “but I want to ask you a plain question, to which I require a plain answer if you wish to be welcomed—as you have often been—to my house. If the mines were to be found again, and proved rich still, would you do your utmost to have the satrap apprised of it?”

  “I would, of course,” Agathocles replied. “But you're asking the wrong person. Put your question to these three.”

  “I need not.” Charthi removed his headcloth and tossed it to the servant who darted forward to receive it and hand him afresh one. “I bare my head before you and before the Just God. I am revealing everything.”

  Thotmaktef murmured, “We are honored,” and Agathocles and I nodded.

  “I have a map. Do all of you know what that is?”

  Thotmaktef did and Agathocles did not. I did not know the word and kept silent.

  “It is a picture of the ground as a soaring vulture might behold it,” Charthi explained, and went to get it.

  When he had gone, I said I was surprised that he did not send his servant for it.

  “It is hidden, you may be sure.” Agathocles spoke to me in the Hellene tongue. Since he has found that I understand it, he does that often. Thotmaktef listened and looked very puzzled, but I believe he understands more than Agathocles thinks.

  When Charthi returned, he sent his servants away and unrolled the map. “Here you see the line of the river,” he said, “wandering south. This little square marks the city of Nekhen, and this one the southern city of Abu, where Kemet ends.”

  Agathocles asked the location of Wast, and Charthi explained that it was above the topmost border of the map. “The mines are here,” he said, and drew a circle on the map with his forefinger.

  “I forget,” I said. “It is a fault I have, like a stammer. I regret it but can't correct it. Even so, I would guess that there are kingdoms smaller than the circle you've shown us.”

  “Much smaller,” Agathocles said. “How long would it take me to drive over that, with a chariot and a pair of good horses?”

  “Three days or four, I would judge,” Charthi said. “That long to drive across, provided you could find water for your horses. Much longer, of course, to explore the whole area exhaustively. A year or more, perhaps.”

  “It's red land?” Thotmaktef asked.

  Charthi shrugged. “I don't know—I've never been there. Some or all of it may be. Some is probably more or less level grazing land. Medjay I've spoken to have said there was a good deal of grass.”

  “Did they know where the mines were?”

  Charthi shrugged again. “They told me they didn't. If you want my honest opinion, the king of the Nehasyu and his ministers know where some of them are and are trying to work them. I doubt they know where all of them are.”

  Thotmaktef said, “Latro and I thank you for your hospitality and your information. If you'll allow us to fill our jars with your excellent water, we need trouble you no longer.”

  Charthi sighed. “But you won't look for the mines. I don't blame you.”

  “We will not. We don't have a year to spare, Noble Charthi, or anything like that long. If we come across your noble son, we will aid him in every way commensurate with our mission. But I cannot promise you we will search for him, or the mines.”

  “No blame accrues to you,” Charthi said. “May I ask one favor in return for my water? It is a small favor, and one that will be easy for you.”

  “In that case we will be delighted to oblige you,” Thotmaktef said.

  “Then rejoin me here when your jars are full.”

  This of course we did. Now Agathocles is on board with the second map, the one they say shows the exact locations of more than a dozen mines. He and Thotmaktef are talking with Qanju. He will go with us, as Charthi wished, I am sure.

  I mixed wine and water for Myt-ser'eu as Qanju told me. It was excellent water and excellent wine, and she drank a great deal of it and became merry, singing and dancing to her own song. Now she sleeps. I move her so that she is always shaded.

  THE MONKEY CAME while I was mixing wine and water for Myt-ser'eu. Just now he was on my shoulder, chattering while he watched me write. When I rolled up my scroll, he whispered, “So, you did not see Master?” I chased him then, and would have stoned him if I could. He is no innocent animal. I fear him.

  19

  THE HEALER'S GOD

  THE GREAT GOD of the South wishes to speak with me. The healer told me this, and it may be that it is true. We were fencing in the manner of Kemet with sticks the captain found for us. There are only four, so no more than two could fence at once.

  Aahmes told me of this exercise. It is the way soldiers are trained in the army of Kemet. A stick is bound to the left forearm. It is the “shield.” The stick in the right hand is the “sword.” The point is forbidden—there is great danger if it is used. I fought each in turn, beginning with the soldiers of Kemet. They had done it before, and it seemed best to me if Qanju's three from Parsa saw it five times before they fought. Aahmes wanted to fight last. I took him last among those of Kemet, but not last of all as he wished.

  Myt-ser'eu has a headache. She makes light of it, saying that she always has a headache in the morning. I set Uraeus to mixing wine and water for her, and Neht-nefret to coaxing her to drink it. I let each soldier drink too after he had fought.

  When you fight a man with a shield, you try to get him to raise it so as to blind himself. This is much harder in the stick game, which may be good. I am not sure about that.

  The men of Kemet fought well, all of them, as soon as they saw I would not strike soft. Uro fought first and nearly beat me. I had thought he would know less than he did, and was striving not to discourage him. He may have been trying not to embarrass me in the same way, and so we played at it for a time. Then he came at me in earnest and nearly won. I hit his head and stretched him on the deck.

  And Myt-ser'eu cheered.

  I am not sure why it has made me feel so much love for her, perhaps it is because I know how sick she felt. I forget. She and Muslak have told me, and Uraeus confirms it. So does this scroll. I can no longer remember Charthi's walled house and his gardens, which I read about before I began to write; but I have asked the healer, and he says it is only the head that forgets. The head is the seat of reason, the heart the seat of our feelings, pounding when we are moved. My heart will never forget Myt-ser'eu's cheering.

  After that I fought the rest one by one. Aahmes was the best, the only one better than Uro. He is taller than I, a great advantage in this game. At last I tripped him, threw him down, and feigned to lop off his head.

  The men of Parsa knew far less. They watched my face, not my stick, and my stick punished them for it. We will fence again when their bruises have healed.

  The healer watched us just as the captain did. Neither offered to take part. When our fencing was done and we had washed away our sweat, the healer spoke to me privately, saying, “Is there anyone on board you would fear to fight with those sticks?”

  I said of course that there was not, that I might be beaten but that no one who fears trivial defeats can ever learn.

  “Suppose the swords were real?”

  His question gave me pause. At last I said, “My slave Uraeus.”

  He laughed. “Not many men fear their slaves.”

  “Not enough, perhaps.” I shrugged. “Have I offered to free him?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Then I will tell him he is free today,” I said.

  “In that case you have,” the healer told me. “You are so willing to free him that you will surely have offered him his freedom before.”

  I said I would ask him, and added that I had learned something new about myself that day.

  “Not because I taught you.” He shook his head. “All those who teach are hated.”

  “You mean my soldiers will hate me for teaching them the sword.”

  “No, that they hated you before it.” (I do not credit this.) “I myself teach no one, knowing I would make my students stronger to destroy me. I advise you to follow the same course.”

  “So you don't teach me.”

  He smiled and shook his head.

  “My men will follow me in battle,” I told him. “You'll see.”

  “Of course they will. They know you're a fine fighter. But where there is no danger, your danger will be from them.”

  I thanked him for the warning, and said I would tell Uraeus to remind me of it.

  “Who will warn you of him?”

  I considered that and said, “You will—or Myt-ser'eu.”

  The healer chuckled, recalling unpleasantly the chattering of his pet. “Next you will say that we will warn you of each other.”

  “If necessary, I'm sure you will.” I turned to go.

  He stopped me. “These things were not what I wished to tell you. The Red One would speak with you. When we met I promised you I would take you to his temple. You will have long forgotten our talk, unless you read it in the scroll you carry.”

  I confessed that I remembered nothing of it, and asked who the Red One was.

  “He has many names.”

  The healer's monkey dropped from the rigging to his shoulder, but he paid no heed to it or its noise.

  “You and I may call him Seth. I am one of his priests.”

  “He is a god?”

  The healer nodded. “The Desert God and the Dark God, the god of night and storm, the son of Heaven's Vault. Tonight, when everyone is asleep, you are to come here, to the bow, to await his coming. If he does not appear before sunrise, he will not come.”

  It was already evening when the healer said this. We soon put in at this town. I ate with our captain, whose name is Muslak, and his wife, Neht-nefret. Myt-ser'eu drank more beer than Muslak, beer I bought her freely. I lay beside her on the roof of our inn until she slept, then crept away to this ship.

  The sailor Muslak had left to watch it soon slept. I waited, sleepy and too full of beer and barley cakes, until a tap on my shoulder made me turn about quickly.

  It was a woman, tall and beautiful. She smiled at me, and held up her hands to show that she held no weapon. “I am Sabra, and your friend. Did you leave Myt-ser'eu alone, Latro?”

  I nodded.

  “Let us hope no evil befalls her. May I ask why you are here?”

  I said that the healer had told me to wait here for the Red One.

  She laid her hand upon mine, and her hand was cold and hard. “Should he appear, Latro, you must make certain that he is indeed the Red One.”

  I slept and woke, and slept and woke. Walked the ship from end to end many times, sat, and slept again.

  At last I was joined by a man I did not know. He looked tired, and I supposed he wished to sleep. I talked with him for a while even so, for I wished to remain awake and was finding it difficult. I said that he seemed to have had a bad night of it at the inn.

  “Oh, I did!” He laughed, laughing at his own misfortune, which made me like him. “I paid to sleep on the roof. A woman woke me—it must have been very late—and offered to lie with me. One of these Riverland women.” He extended his hand, palm up. “You know.”

  I said I did, since he clearly expected it.

  “I asked how much, and she said she'd do it for whatever I was willing to give. Like any fool I said all right. Her head was shaved, so she wasn't a low-class woman. She had no wig, which made me wonder.” Laughing at his own folly, he shook his head. “I like to think I'm a knowing man. This ought to be a lesson to me.