by Gene Wolfe
Muslak shook his head. "He came down to my ship in the harbor when we were nearly loaded, but he came alone. I think he must have written his law on her as soon as I left. But what's wrong with him? That's the point. Why can't he remember?"
"I was not merely inquisitive," the first healer explained. "A wife often knows things a man's friends do not. I hoped to question her." He clapped his hands. "I want to consult a colleague of mine."
"You think we're all rich," Muslak said. "Let me tell you that it isn't so, and until I can sell my cargo I'll have very little."
A boy came, and the first healer told him to bring Ra'hotep.
While we waited, the first healer talked with me, asking my name. I gave it, and he asked how I knew it. I explained that Muslak had told me.
"Would your wife call you so?"
"I don't know," I said. "I did not remember that I had a wife until now."
"When we are born, we do not know how to talk. You remember how to talk, clearly."
I nodded.
"Also how to use your sword, from what your friend says."
I said that I did not know whether I knew or not, but it seemed plain how such a sword must be used.
"Just so. May I look at it?"
I drew my sword and offered it to him hilt-first.
"There is a word written here," he said, "but it is not in the true Thoth-inspired writing. I cannot read it. Can you?"
"Falcata," I said. "It's the name of my sword."
"How do you know that?"
I said I had read it on the blade this morning, which was a lie.
"If he were in the grip of a xu, he would not have handed me his sword," the first healer told Muslak. (I think this word must mean daemon in their tongue.) "Also, he speaks sensibly, and those who are in the grip of a xu never speak sensibly for long. Has he anything to gain by shamming?"
"Nothing," Muslak declared, "and he couldn't have deceived me for more than a day. Besides, he pretends to remember sometimes. He wouldn't do that if he were faking."
The first healer smiled. "So, Lewqys, you lie to us, do you?"
I said, "I suppose I do. All men lie at times, it seems to me."
"Oh, really? I would have said not. Who has lied to you recently?"
"I don't know."
While we spoke, the second healer entered. He greeted the first politely and took a stool.
"This foreign man forgets everything," the first healer explained. "His friend the ship-master has brought him to me. The disorder is of long standing."
Ra'hotep nodded, not looking at the first healer but very intently at me. He is shorter than Muslak, and perhaps twenty years older.
Muslak said, "Lewqys is a mercenary. He owns a farm in his own country. His relatives work it for him while he is away."
Ra'hotep nodded again in the manner of one who had reached a decision. "Was he like this when you met him for the first time?"
Muslak shook his head.
"Tell me of your first meeting."
"We were upriver. We'd sold our cargo and were looking for something else-papyrus at a good price, cotton cloth, or whatever. He had found out that the satrap had sent troops to the Great King, not his own troops from Parsa, but Nubians and your people. He had a hundred men and tried to get the satrap to hire them too. He wouldn't-he'd already sent the Great King what he'd asked for. I told Lewqys he'd have no trouble in Byblos-that's my own city. They'd be snapped up there, and good money. He said he'd go, but he didn't have enough to hire my ship. He'd have to march overland."
"And did you, Latro?"
He was clearly speaking to me. I asked if that was also my name.
"It's the name I was given by your comrades when I saw you with the Great King's army. It took me a moment to recall it, but I'm sure that was it. Did you march overland? It's difficult."
"I don't know."
"You clearly reached this man's country in some fashion. When I treated you, it was said you were one of Sidon's soldiers." Ra'hotep turned to the first healer. "He is somewhat improved, but not greatly. Have you anything to suggest?"
They spoke of herbs and potions for some while. I could not write all of it here if I wished to. Ra'hotep said that he had tried to drive out a xu and thought there was none. The first healer tried, but achieved nothing. He gave me medicine to take each day.
This is important. Set is master of the bad xu. He is the god of the South. There is a temple far to the south where a successful appeal to him might be made. Muslak says he does not know it.
He paid the first healer. Ra'hotep gave me this scroll, some reed pens, and a cake of ink; but he would take nothing, saying he had been of no help. I offered him my sword, saying truly that I had nothing else. He said I was the soldier, not he. He would not take it. I must talk with him further whenever the opportunity arises, and make him a gift when I can.
Muslak and I walked back to our ship. Muslak said we would go to the temple of Hathor tonight, as we did. "She's a helpful goddess," he told me, "and she may be able to help you. We're right here, and what's the use of not trying?"
I said, "None, of course."
"Right. Besides, I want to hire a singing girl, and that's where you get them."
I asked whether he meant to give a dinner for someone.
He laughed. "I want a wife for the voyage upriver. Now you're going to say I wouldn't take your wife when she wanted to go with you."
I said I recalled his telling the physician about it.
"It was the truth. It's one thing to take a singing girl upriver, something else to take a decent woman across the Great Sea. If one of my crew gets to my singing girl, it won't matter much. I'll punish him and that will be that. Besides, we won't sleep on the ship. I'll have her on shore in a room to myself."
Merchants were waiting to view the hides in our hold, portly, serious men with many rings and oiled skin. At Muslak's order, sailors carried up three and four hides of each kind. They were of fine quality. The merchants went down into the hold, chose others, and carried them up to view in the sunlight, which was then so bright as to be almost blinding. I helped, and these hides too were fine. Several made offers which merely amused Muslak.
He explained to them that he can get much a better price in the great cities to the south. The merchants here in Sais will offer only the lowest prices, thinking that he will wish to sell what he has and get another cargo quickly.
Some time after we ate, a soldier of Parsa arrived with a letter for Muslak. I studied this soldier, for it seems I have been a soldier of Great King's just as he is. He was of medium height, bearded, and appeared strong. He had a bowcase, a light ax with a long haft, and a dagger. He wore more clothing than most people do here.
Muslak scowled at first when he read the letter, then smiled. When he had finished, he read it again before he rolled it up and put it into his chest.
The three of us found a scribe, and from what Muslak said I learned that the letter had been from the satrap of Kemet. Muslak told him that his ship was large and sound and his crew strong, and declared that he would obey at once. The soldier left with Muslak's letter, although I would have liked to speak more with him.
"You'll see thousands like that, Lewqys. We're going to the White Wall, the biggest fortress in the whole country."
"To see the satrap?"
Muslak nodded. "To see Prince Achaemenes himself. He has a job for us."
I asked whether this Achaemenes would pay us, for I wish to earn money.
"He says he'll reward us handsomely." Muslak fingered his beard. "He must be one of the richest men in the world."
There were more merchants, but the heat made me sleepy. I found a shady spot under a tree in the courtyard of our inn and slept.
2
IN THE EVENING
MUSLAK WOKE ME to go to the temple. He asked what I remembered, and I told him everything.
"That's good. You'll have forgotten most of it tomorrow, I'm afraid, but you may remember tell
ing me now. Here, carry this."
It was a ram skin dyed red, very fine. "We'll have to give the goddess a nice present," Muslak explained, "and that can be sold for a good bit more than I'm willing to give."
The priest smiled when I held it up, and accepted it graciously; he is a tranquil man of middle height and middle years, with a shaven head. I took advantage of the moment to ask about Hathor, explaining that I was a stranger to his country and knew only that she was a great goddess here.
He nodded solemnly. "I would rather try to teach you, young man, than those who feel that they already know more than enough, as I must so often do in the House of Life. First let me assure you that no mortal ever knows enough, much less more than enough. You have seen her image?"
I shook my head.
"Then come with me. We will go into the forecourt."
It is a vast building, and the columns that support the lintel are larger than the houses of the poor and as tall as trees. Lamps flickered within, lonely dots of yellow light in the gloom. Beyond them, the broad doors of the inner temple were half closed. Through the opening I glimpsed the image of the goddess.
That, too, is huge, taller than any of the tall private houses we had seen. Its dress is rich, and it gleams with many gems. In form, it is a woman with the head of a cow.
"Hathor was wet nurse to Osiris," the priest explained. "We give animal heads to many of our gods to illustrate their honor and authority. You foreigners are frequently puzzled by it, wishing your gods to be like yourselves. Hathor is not like us, but a mighty divinity. It is Hathor who feeds the dead and governs love and the family…"
I heard no more. A horned woman taller than any man had stepped from behind the image of the goddess. As she strode toward us, it seemed that some other held a lamp behind her, so that her whole form was outlined with light, although her smiling face was shadowed. "You go into danger, foreign man," she told me. "Do you wish my help? You may have it at a price."
I wanted to kneel but found I could not. My body was still standing next to Muslak. "I need your help very much, Great Goddess, but I have nothing to give but my sword."
"You will have other uses for that. You are strong and a warrior, a man who has much love to give, and protection to give to those you love. Will you give those things, if I help you?"
"Very willingly," I said.
"That is well. I am going to send my kitten to you. You must love and safeguard her for my sake. Will you?"
"With my life, Great Goddess. Where is it?"
"Here. She will come to you and rub herself against you. When she does, you must accept her as your own."
The goddess was gone as though she had never been. The priest was saying, "There are seven Hathors along the river, and all are Hathor. When they meet, they decree. Whatever they decree must come to pass, no matter what gods may do or men may say."
I asked, "If they were to decree that I was to remember as other men do, would it happen?"
The priest nodded, his face more solemn than ever. "Whatever they decree must come to pass, as I told you."
"I've nothing to offer," I said; then recalling what the goddess herself had told me only a moment before, I added, "beyond love and protection."
"You have prayers to offer, young man. Those alone may be sufficient. As for love, it is hers. Therefore those who love have her favor. Not all that passes for love is true love, however. Do you understand?"
I nodded.
"As for protection, many families require it. Protect them, protect children particularly, and you will gain her favor. Rich gifts from the rich are very well, but the things the goddess most desires are things anyone can give."
Muslak asked, "Will you pray for Lewqys here, Holy Man?"
"I will."
"And for me and our ship?"
"I will do that also, Crimson Man."
Muslak cleared his throat. "That's good. Now I'd like to hire a singing girl to go to Mennufer with me. The satrap wants my help."
"In which case," the priest said carefully, "you must provide it."
"That's right." Muslak cleared his throat again. "Now as I understand it, I can pay a flat fee and get a girl for the trip. Is that the way you do it here?"
The priest nodded. "For a long journey up the river, if you choose, and if you will return here at journey's end."
"Absolutely. I'll be going back to my own city after I've helped Prince Achaemenes."
"Then there is no difficulty. You must treat your singing girl well every day that she is in your company, you understand. Share your food and so on. You may beat her, but not beyond reason and not so as to endanger her life. She is entitled to leave you if your provisions for her are worse than those you provide for yourself."
Muslak nodded.
"When you return her, you will owe no more, since you must pay the full fee in advance. It is customary, however, to make some gift to her if you have been pleased."
"I will," Muslak said. "Something nice. I should have quite a bit of money when I've done what your satrap wants."
"He is not our satrap, Crimson Man." The priest frowned.
Muslak shrugged. "He's not ours either, the way you mean. But we've got to do what he says. So do you."
"You wish to hear the singing girls?"
Muslak nodded.
"First I must see the color of your gold."
Muslak shook a few coins from his burse into his hand and displayed them.
"One of those," the priest said, and pointed.
"A daric? That's too much!"
"You are accustomed to bargaining," the priest told him, "and will bargain much better than I. I will not bargain at all. One of those, and I must hold it first and pass on it."
"You yourself told us there are six other Hathors on the river." Muslak sounded indignant.
The priest smiled. "Go to any. You have my leave."
Muslak turned on his heel and walked away. I followed him very reluctantly, recalling what the goddess had said. When we had nearly reached the entrance to the forecourt, he stopped and turned back. "One daric? That's the price?"
The priest had not moved. "Unless you wish to give her something when you bring her back. That is voluntary."
"All right," Muslak said, "let's see them."
The priest held out his hand.
"After I've had a look at them."
The priest shook his head and continued to extend his hand.
"Suppose I don't like any of them?"
"Your money will be returned," the priest told Muslak. In this and in everything, the priest seemed neither angry nor eager; his eyes showed neither disgust nor fear. I admired him for it.
"All right," Muslak said at last.
The coin changed hands. Smiling, the priest left us and strode to a small gong near one wall. He struck it twice, and returned to us.
"What about you, Lewqys?" Muslak grinned at me. "Want a singing girl?"
I shook my head.
Soon we heard the murmur of voices and the shuffle of bare feet on the stone pavement. Five young women joined us. All were comely, with shapely legs and high breasts. All wore black wigs, as all but the poorest women do in this land. Two bore instruments.
The priest asked Muslak if he wished to hear them sing.
Muslak nodded and pointed.
"They will all sing," the priest said, "then you can quickly choose her whose voice you think sweetest." He signaled to the women, and they sang at once. I could catch only a few words of their song, but their girlish voices were lively and merry. Those who held instruments played them with a will.
"Her," Muslak said.
"With the lute?"
He hesitated. "No, the one next to her."
The priest gestured. "Come, Neht-nefret."
She came forward smiling and took Muslak's hand.
"This trader is going to Mennufer on his own ship," the priest explained. "When his business there has been completed, he will return here. You will be his wif
e until you return."
Neht-nefret said softly, "I understand, Holy One." She is indeed tall for a woman, but no taller than some others.
The woman with the lute, shorter it might be by twice the width of my thumb, came forward too, taking my arm and rubbing her soft flank against mine.
"That trader does not wish a wife," the priest said severely.
"He's a soldier, not a trader like me," Muslak explained. "He's from Sidon." He turned to me. "Lewqys, you said you didn't want one."
"I want a handsome husband," the young woman with the lute declared, "and I would like to visit Mennufer, and all the grand places along the river." She feigned to be speaking to Muslak, but watched me slyly from the corners of her kohl-rimmed eyes. All the perfumes of a garden filled my nostrils.
The priest shook his head, a little sadly as it seemed to me. "You must go back, Myt-ser'eu."
I was trying to grasp the meaning of her name when I caught sight of the clasp on her headband. It was the face of a cat.
"She wants to go because I'm going," Neht-nefret told Muslak. "We're friends. You can have two of us, if you like. I won't mind."
The priest nodded. "You may, for another such coin as the first."
"But not this one," I said. "I want this one for myself. Give this holy man another daric, Muslak."
Myt-ser'eu giggled.
Muslak did, saying he owed me far more than that.
3
IN THE SHADE OF THE SAIL
WE ARE WARM, although not unpleasantly so. Myt-ser'eu fans me with a palm-frond fan. It cools her as well, or so she says, and waves away insects. Here I write, as Muslak has explained I must. He says a healer gave me this scroll and my cake of ink. My pen is a frayed reed. I dip it in the river and find it difficult to write as small as I wish.
Myt-ser'eu laughs at my letters and offers to show how her people write. Neht-nefret says she writes better. She will show me, not Myt-ser'eu. I will not let either have my pen, although this scroll is so long. I will write on both sides. Who can say where I can find another?
Muslak has sold all the hides in our hold. It took most of the morning. As soon as the money had been paid, we put out. This river is the Pre. Myt-ser'eu says there are three big rivers through this land, and many smaller ones. The Pre is the largest. She shows three fingers. This River Pre is the first. They come together farther south to make the Great River. After that, there is but one. She and Neht-nefret do not name it. It is the river. Muslak calls it the Great River, and says that Hellenes say Neilos or Aegyptos.
