The Mazes of Magic (Conjurer of Rhodes Book 1)

by Jack Massa

  A short distance down the passage he faced a wall formed of the same rough boulders as the exterior. But a slender stairway opened to the right. More cool air drifted up the stairs, carrying a veiled scent of perfume or incense.

  Korax felt his way along the wall, since the light from the open doorway was lost to him now. The steps curled down, then ended in a corridor with smooth masonry walls. The floor slanted gently upward as the passage turned, mirroring the outer curve of the mound. All was silent.

  Korax groped along the tunnel for some time. Then a light appeared ahead, a blurred flickering of candle or lamp. As his vision improved, he strode forward confidently. The light came from a portal of smooth-cut stone. Korax rounded the corner and stopped.

  He stood on a gallery that circled the inner core of the mound—an enormous hollow chamber. Spots of daylight shone at the distant pinnacle, enough for him to tell the vast dimensions.

  A clay lamp burned on the floor in front of him, set before a balustrade that lined the gallery. On the rail of the balustrade was a cushion, and on the cushion sat a young woman, cross-legged, balanced precariously. Behind her was empty air, with the floor of the vast chamber far below.

  Astonished, Korax examined the woman. Her eyes were closed and her back erect: she sat in trance or deep meditation. She wore pale blue robes and yellow slippers. Her complexion was dark; she seemed Phoenician or Babylonian perhaps. She had narrow shoulders and face, with a high forehead, pointed chin, and tiny mouth. She would not be called beautiful by Greek or Egyptian standards, yet Korax found her appearance compelling. Perhaps it was her pose of meditation, but he sensed intelligence, wisdom, power. Perhaps he sensed a kindred spirit.

  Abruptly, her eyes opened. Her shoulders jerked, and for an instant Korax feared she would tumble backward and fall to her death. But her hands shot down and caught the rail. Next moment, she thrust herself off the cushion and landed softly on her feet.

  “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

  “I apologize. I did not mean to frighten you.”

  “I am not frightened.”

  But she took a step back as Korax approached. He peered over the balustrade, glimpsing ramps and galleries at many levels. The drop ended four stories below on a black, circular floor.

  “Isn't it dangerous to practice your meditations on such a perch?”

  “I know what I am doing.” She seemed younger than Korax had thought at first. But now she took the offensive: “Tourists are not allowed in this place.”

  Korax leaned back, momentarily daunted by her intensity. He leveled his voice: “I am not a tourist, only a humble seeker of wisdom.”

  The young woman paused. Her eyes seemed to dilate, and she scrutinized him for a long moment. “Humble? I do not think so.”

  Korax grinned and gave a courteous bow. “Please forgive my abrupt appearance. I am Astrametheus, a son of good family from the town of Hermopolis.”

  “How did you get in here?”

  “Through a door on the outer path. It was unlocked.”

  “So, is it the custom in Hermopolis for men of good family to invade sacred grounds uninvited?”

  “No.” Korax smiled again. “Not so far as I know. But I came in answer to an inner call. I've heard that a company of philosophers meets in this place, practitioners of the divine arts. I greatly wish to make their acquaintance.”

  “To what purpose?”

  Korax spread his arms. “To join them perhaps. I have some learning and experience, which I wish to augment.”

  “Have you indeed? From Hermopolis?”

  “Well ... several places. But what of you, young-woman-whose-name-I-do-not-know? Is it the mystic arts of Babylon that teach you to sit in trance over a yawning abyss?”

  The corners of her mouth twitched, the start of a smile that she quickly suppressed. “I will take you to Krateros. He will decide if your request merits consideration.”

  She gathered up her lamp and cushion and indicated for him to follow. They walked along the gallery of the vast, quiet chamber.

  “This is truly remarkable,” Korax said. “I'll wager not one person in a hundred knows that this structure has a hollow core. It was built by the first Ptolemy, so I understand. Though I do not recall the architect's name.”

  “Are you planning to write a travel book?” the young woman asked. “Or are you just full of prattle by nature?”

  Korax winced at the gibe. “I would much rather hear your story, if you would disclose it. But so far you've not even told me your name.”

  “I am Miriam, daughter of Zakur.”

  The names sounded Phoenician or Nabataean perhaps, which would fit with her looks. “And your nationality?” he prompted.

  She gave a sidewise glance, disapproving his inquisitiveness. Still, she answered, “I was born in Alexandria. My father's people came from the region of Hebron. We are Jews.”

  “I see.” An Aramaic-speaking people—Korax knew little about them. He seemed to recall they were monotheists, worshippers of some grim, shapeless god. Their priests supposedly possessed ancient texts of powerful magic.

  Miriam preceded him down a series of ramps, which connected one gallery to the next. Soon they reached the lowest level, the floor of the great hollow space. Again Korax sniffed traces of incense, more definite now. Their shuffling footsteps on the paving stones made the only noise.

  Passing through a portal, they traversed a corridor illuminated by filtered daylight. Before Korax could discern the source of the light, they stepped into an even brighter chamber. It was spacious and furnished with stools, tables, and shelves full of papyrus rolls. A statue of Pan grinned down from a niche in the far wall.

  Two men of middle-age sat conferring at a table spread with documents. One was dark, solemn, gray-bearded, with forehead and features resembling Miriam's. The other was Greek, likely a Macedonian—large and broad-headed, with curly brown hair and prominent eyes. Both men frowned when they saw him.

  “Miriam, why are you disturbing us?” the graybeard asked. “Who is this person?”

  “I am sorry, father,” Miriam replied. “This one appeared out of nowhere on the gallery above. He entered through an outer door on the spiral, which he says was unlocked.”

  “Oh. I was responsible for sealing the doors after the last ritual,” Miriam's father commented thoughtfully. “Perhaps I forgot to do that.”

  The chamber was lit by several large windows in the shape of multi-pointed stars. Yet these windows did not open to the outside. Stepping over to examine one, Korax saw that it contained a large mirror, which reflected daylight from an angled shaft above.

  “Most ingenious.”

  The large Macedonian had stood and was glowering. “Who are you? For what reason do you invade our sanctuary?”

  “He says he is called Astrametheus, from Hermopolis,” Miriam answered before Korax could speak, “though I’m not sure I believe it. He claims to be a student seeking instruction.”

  “I am Krateros, high priest of Pan,” the large man said. “Is Astrametheus your true name?”

  “Well, I have gone by other names.” Korax strolled toward the table. “For the moment, Astrametheus is the most prudent to use. I will willingly divulge my other names to you in time, should I find this company trustworthy.”

  Zakur slapped the tabletop. “You presume too much, young man!”

  Korax halted, taken aback by the elder's anger. His pose of bluff self-confidence was being perceived as arrogance and discourtesy. He cleared his throat and gave a formal bow. “Forgive me gentlemen. I presume nothing. I apologize for my unorthodox arrival in this holy place, as I have already apologized to the young lady. I am not in the habit of breaking into temples. But I am in the habit of heeding inner guidance, which has led me to this meeting.”

  “I see.” Krateros appraised him. “Are you an initiate?”

  “Yes, of the Egyptian rites.”

  “Indeed?” Zakur fixed Korax with a dubious, penetratin
g stare. “A Greek, scarcely past twenty, yet initiated by the Egyptians. You seem to possess an unusual history.”

  Korax returned the gaze, unabashed.

  Krateros noticed the beaded satchel, and his eyes widened as though with an insight. “Perhaps you carry something of value.”

  Korax pulled the bag from his shoulder. “Perhaps if I share it with you, you will welcome me into your society.”

  Krateros lifted a palm. “That would be for the whole group to decide. All true-hearted candidates are welcome to apply for admission.” His glance fell again on the satchel. “Of course, one who is already an initiate, and who brought with him gifts of knowledge—such a candidate might find a readier welcome.”

  Smiling, Korax opened the bag and removed a roll, a copy of one of the magical texts given to him by Amasis, the high priest who had befriended him in Memphis. He untied the ribbon and spread the papyrus on the table. Zakur and Krateros leaned to examine it. Miriam craned her neck to peer over Korax's shoulder.

  “Most interesting,” Krateros said.

  “It looks authentic,” Zakur grunted. “Can you read it, young man?”

  “Of course. I studied for more than a year in the House of Life. I will not say in which temple.”

  “A man of mystery,” Krateros commented, half-smiling. “You do intrigue me, sir. We have several in our circle who can read the hieroglyphs, and others of us are learning. Perhaps you know enough to act as tutor.”

  Korax glanced at Miriam. Her expression revealed a new respect, though none of her reserve had melted.

  “I am not averse to sharing what I know,” Korax said. “Of course, I would hope the arrangement would be mutual.”

  “That is the function and purpose of our society,” Krateros declared. “We are a group of scholars from many nations. Our mission is to advance knowledge of the divine arts and unravel the secrets of Nature—for the good of all peoples. That is our charter from the king, whose blessing and patronage we enjoy.”

  “Then you are exactly the society I hoped to find,” Korax said. “I will do all in my power to prove myself worthy of your company.”

  He extended his hand. Krateros grasped him firmly by the wrist. Korax then turned and offered his hand to Zakur, but the graybeard merely folded his arms in his sleeves and nodded.

  “As I mentioned,” Krateros was saying, “all honest candidates are welcome to seek admission. The application process involves a test, administered by our entire group. If you wish, I will arrange an examination to take place at one of our general meetings.”

  “I could ask no more,” Korax replied. “And I will leave you this text, as a gift and sign of friendship.”

  “We accept it,” Zakur answered, his stern expression softening a little. “Miriam, please show our visitor the way to the main portal. Then, if you would, please ascertain that all the outer doors are properly locked.”

  “I will, father.”

  “Thank you, esteemed gentlemen.” Korax bowed his head. “May I ask when and where the next general meeting will occur?”

  “We will summon you,” Krateros said. He and Zakur had resumed their seats and were scrutinizing the papyrus.

  “Very well. I am staying at a small inn, on the Street of Pomegranates, west of the causeway. It might be a little hard to find.”

  “No matter.” Krateros gestured dismissively. “You will receive our summons. If you don't ... well, no further test will be necessary.”

  * * * * *

  Retrieving her lamp, Miriam conducted Korax through the corridor and across the circular chamber. In the faint light, Korax discerned life-size statues set in hollows along the walls. Otherwise, the space was empty.

  He ventured to make conversation. “I gather you are an initiate in this society, Miriam. How would you recommend I prepare myself for the test Krateros mentioned?”

  “You don't really expect me to answer that, do you?”

  Korax smiled, shaking his head. “I confess, I don't know what to expect of a girl who practices trance in a high and dangerous place. Is that one of the arts I will learn in your group?”

  She paused, near a low rounded portal of white brick. “That practice is my own invention. And please don't mention it to anyone. My father would not approve.”

  “Aren't you afraid of falling?”

  “Of course. Don't you see that is the point?”

  They passed through the portal and descended a long, slanting tunnel. Korax, walking a step behind, pondered what she had said.

  “You are a curious young man,” Miriam remarked. “You claim to be an initiate of the Egyptian Mysteries—which I sense to be the truth. And yet you act so frivolous, lacking all solemnity.”

  “Do I strike you as such? Perhaps it is merely the difference in our cultures.” When Miriam made no reply, Korax reflected: “To be honest, there are parts of myself I am still seeking to discover—or rediscover, for the truth is, some of my memories are lost to me.”

  She might have twitched a little at this disclosure, but did not ask him to explain.

  Korax sighed. “Perhaps, as you say, I am a creature of contradictions. But the same might be said of you, a Jewish maiden studying mystical arts in the Temple of Pan.”

  “My people worship one God,” she said. “But those of us who are privileged to study the deeper wisdom understand that God shows many aspects to Creation, and there are many ladders by which man, and woman too, may ascend to comprehension of divinity.”

  “Yes,” Korax agreed. “You remind me of the Egyptian teachings: They describe various spheres that the soul must rise through to reach the source of the divine light, or again, many halls that must be passed for one to arrive at the Hall of Truth.”

  They had reached the end of the passage. Miriam threw a latch and pushed open a pivoting door. Bending low, they stepped through the opening. Korax saw they were in the pillared pavilion, behind the statue of Pan where he had left the coin.

  Hesitantly, Miriam extended her hand. “I bid you good day, Astrametheus of Hermopolis. I hope we will meet again.”

  He touched her fingertips. “Korax is my true name, Korax of Rhodes.”

  Afterword

  The Mazes of Magic is the first book of the Conjurer of Rhodes series. As of this writing, the scheduled titles are:

  Book 1- The Mazes of Magic

  Book 2 - The Lights of Alexandria

  Book 3 - The Treasure of the Sun God

  I am very grateful to my beta readers, and also to my marvelous editor Jaime Henriquez, and patient and talented cover designer, Mirna Gilman of BooksGoSocial.com.

  If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a rating and review on Amazon, as well as other sites. The algorithms of the publishing business make this extremely important to a book's success.

  To learn about other books and get free offers and chances to win free prizes, sign up for the Triskelion Books newsletter at: https://triskelionbooks.com/list/

  You can also connect with me at:

  Web: triskelionbooks.com or jackmassa.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJackMassa/

  Twitter: @JackMassa2