by Gene Wolfe
I said I would try to remember.
"You will forget. Therefore, I am going to send my servant with you to recall it for you." Sesostris took the cobra from his crown. It was, or seemed, a piece of carved and gilded wood. He held it out, and I took it.
"Hold Uraeus carefully. You must fly far without dropping him."
As Sesostris spoke, Uraeus writhed in my hand like a living serpent. I started to say that I could not fly at all; my wings twitched at the thought of flight, and I knew myself winged.
"Go now," Sesostris told me, "for the rest are on the road."
11
URAEUS
MY SLAVE COMES when I come, and goes when I go. That is what Neht-nefret says. I said that it was Myt-ser'eu who comes with me, and I know that it is true. This is true also: wherever I go, I find Uraeus there.
We spoke to him about it. He said it was his duty to wait upon me; but that when I did not wish him present, I had only to tell him to leave.
"Leave then," I said. "Leave now." And he was gone.
He has not come back. Myt-ser'eu and I talked about it, sitting by ourselves in the shade of the afterdeck. "You were there," I said. "Surely you saw him go."
She shook her head. "He was with us and we spoke to him. You sent him away, and he was not there-but I didn't see him go."
"Men cannot vanish like smoke," I told her, pretending to be angry.
"Smoke cannot vanish like Uraeus."
I admitted that he did not seem like other men.
"Neither do you, my darling." She added that my slave did not look at her as other men do. She thinks his manhood may have been cut away.
I will forget him, if what Muslak says is true. Here I write of him, so that I may know him again if he returns. He is smaller than many women, and stooped. There is no hair on him. None. The healer's head is shaved; but there would be hair there, and on his face as well, if he did not shave it. He has hair beneath his arms just as I do, and eyebrows. Uraeus has none, and is smoother and more supple than any woman. He is humble and never raises his voice, but Muslak and his sailors are afraid of him. So are my soldiers, though they seem bold men. He came to our ship when we were at the tomb of an ancient king of Kemet, the seer says. This seer's name is Qanju. He could not tell me how I came to die, as Myt-ser'eu did, but told me how I was restored to life. I will write now of those things, though only briefly-what the seer said, and what Myt-ser'eu says.
She and I were sitting beneath a tree. We had drunk wine, and I lay down to sleep. She slept too. When she woke, she tried to awaken me and found that I was dead, although I had not been stabbed or strangled.
She ran back to this ship, where two priests were driving out demons. My soldiers carried my body back to the ship, where the healer labored over it, chanting, burning incense, and doing many other things. His name is Sahuset. At last I returned to life and began to write of what had befallen me in death. I know that is here, but I do not want to read it. Not now, and perhaps never. I know that I must die again, and that is more than enough. WE HAVE SEEN a river-horse, I think the first I have ever seen, for it seemed a new animal to me. It was black. It thrust its huge head from the water and regarded us through tiny eyes. Its mouth was immense, its teeth as long as my hand. I asked Muslak and Neht-nefret about these creatures, but neither knew much, only that river-horses are large and dangerous, and are sometimes hunted. That they are large I knew already, having seen that one; and would it not be a strange and wonderful thing if a beast so large were not dangerous? As for hunting them, I wished to hunt them myself. Any hunter would wish to hunt such an animal. Myt-ser'eu told me that earrings, combs, and the like are made from the teeth, also that a certain goddess takes the form of a river-horse and succors women in labor. One of my soldiers has a shield of river-horse hide, which he showed me. He said it makes the best shields of all, and makes fine whips. His name is Aahmes of Mennufer.
It was not until I asked the healer that I learned more. He seems a most learned man. The river-horses leave the river by night, invade men's fields, and devour their crops, trampling much and eating much. Thus they are hated. They destroy crocodiles, and so are loved and greatly respected. They overturn boats, and so are hated again. Kings and other great men hunt them in fleets of boats with fifty or a hundred hunters. No one ever rides these horses. On this point he warned me. When a man sees them on shore, he thinks they cannot run; but in truth they run very swiftly. That is good to know.
They are seldom seen as far north as this, he said, but as we go farther south, we will see more. I asked him and others to call me whenever they see one. WE HAVE BEEN wrestling-my men and I. It was good sport, something we should do often. Uro told me I had hurt his arm a few days ago, but it was well again. He said he did not resist me because I am his officer. I said, of course, that if he had resisted I would have killed him, and pretended to recall the incident. He said that though I may be a better swordsman he is a fine wrestler. Aahmes declared that he was a better wrestler than Uro. The Men of Parsa boasted that they were all much better wrestlers than any Men of Kemet. We had matches, wrestling as friends. Baginu beat his first opponent, but Aahmes beat Baginu. I offered to wrestle Aahmes. His friends objected, saying justly that he was tired from his earlier match with Baginu. I said I would wrestle Aahmes and Baginu together, knowing that if they wrestled as one their animosity could not endure. Myt-ser'eu objected and so did they, saying that would be unfair to me. I insisted they do it, and said they might throw me in the water if they could. Myt-ser'eu cried that the crocodiles would devour me. Uraeus whispered to her that no crocodile would harm me. She told me and I agreed, saying I was too tough for jaws like theirs.
We wrestled. Baginu sprang on my back while I was grappling Aahmes, but I threw him off, knocked Aahmes down with him, and threw him into the water.
He is a poor swimmer. Although our ship was sailing no faster than an old man walks, he could not catch up. I dived in, got my arm around his neck, and pulled him near enough the side for his friends to help us up.
When I was back on board, gasping and smelling of the river, I declared that I was exhausted from my long swim and could not continue. Since that was the case, I said, Aahmes was our champion until we wrestled again. Everyone argued against this, saying I was champion. I silenced them all and forced them to accept Aahmes.
Afterward I made Uraeus follow me into the hold so that we might speak without being overheard by the others. I apologized for sending him away and asked where he had been.
"Down here, master, hunting rats."
I commended him, saying I knew they did great damage.
"You had dismissed me, master. I obeyed, as I always obey. But when the wrestling began, I was afraid it might turn to fighting."
"I will always dismiss you when Myt-ser'eu and I wish to be alone." Because Uraeus looked so despondent at that, I added, "It's no reflection on you. I'd dismiss Aahmes-or anyone-as readily."
"Thank you, master. I will strive not to intrude."
"That's good." I patted his shoulder, which might have been supple leather.
"I am quiet, unobtrusive. Often you do not know that I am with you."
"But ready to serve whenever I need you."
"Exactly, master. Exactly."
Looking at him-at his eyes, particularly-I could not imagine that I would ever have selected such a servant in the slave market. He seems a small man of middle years and looks strong, but his face and silence are forbidding. His eyes are hard and cold. "Where did I buy you?" I asked, adding, "I forget very quickly, as you probably know."
"You did not buy me, master. I was given to you by my old master, Sesostris."
"He must be a good friend indeed," I said, "to part with such a valuable gift. Did I do him some service?"
Uraeus shook his head. He has an odd, swaying way of doing it. "You did him no service, master, but he likes you and has helped you in many ways, of which I was-" He paused, his head cocked to listen. "That was a rat,
master. I have marked the place. I will come back for it when you sleep."
From the hatch above someone called, "Is anybody down there? I thought I heard voices."
"Yes," I said loudly. "We are."
"Ah! Lucius-Latro."
Uraeus leaned toward me, his hiss softer than ever. "This is Qanju's scribe, master. Be wary!"
He is young and a hand's breadth below me in height; he has a shaved head and intelligent eyes.
"There you are," he said, and came to join Uraeus and me. "I've been looking for you to congratulate you. Everyone says the wrestling was well worth seeing, and you're the best of all. My master and I had work to do and missed it, but the sailors and the women can never praise you enough."
I did not know how to answer; but Uraeus said, "My master is quick and strong. I only hope he is watchful as well." Clearly that was meant as an added warning to me.
"He is a soldier, of course," the scribe said, "but then they were all soldiers. Some of our sailors said they were sorry, at first, that they had not been invited to take part; but when they saw you wrestle Baginu and Aahmes, they were glad they hadn't been. Would you like to hear all they said?"
I said I would rather we spoke of something else.
"Easily done, because I want to ask a question. Have you been down here long?"
"I haven't," I said, "but Uraeus was down here alone earlier."
"You didn't happen to see the cat, did you? Or the phantom woman?"
I said we had not, and added that I had thought they had been driven out by priests, something Myt-ser'eu had told me earlier.
"So did we." The scribe sat down. "This is a sensitive matter for me, you understand."
I admitted I did not.
"I was the one who suggested we stop at the tomb-temple of Sesostris when the problem first surfaced." The scribe cleared his throat. "I'm a priest myself. You need not remind me of that. But I'm not skilled in exorcism and own no storied wand. I thought it better to go there and have everything done properly, and my master agreed."
"Qanju?" I asked.
"Yes, of course. As a priest I took part in the exorcism. A small part, but a part. We'd rehearsed exorcism in the House of Life when I was younger, but this was my first experience of the actual rite and I very much hoped that it would be successful."
I said, "But it wasn't." It seemed safe.
"No, it-no. Last night…We were ashore. Do you remember that, Lucius?"
I said I did, though I did not.
"I caught a glimpse, more than a glimpse, really, of a-of a cat. An enormous cat, you understand. Very, very big. And black. Naturally I wondered."
"All cats are black at night," I said.
"No doubt." The scribe laughed. "No doubt at all. But still…Well, I began asking questions, and one of the sailors said he'd seen the woman not long ago. It wasn't Neht-nefret or Myt-ser'eu. He seemed quite certain of it. Another woman of about the same age, quite beautiful, wearing a lot of jewelry."
"He didn't speak to her?"
The scribe shook his head. "He was frightened, I'm sure. Perhaps he was simply frightened of her-I would be, I think. Perhaps he knew the cat would appear to protect her if he threatened her."
I said, "Could he have known that?"
"I don't see why not. The sailors aren't exactly open with me, and one of them might have tried it and not told us."
"You know it," I said, "or you wouldn't have spoken as you did. Did it happen to you?"
The scribe shook his head. "My master told me. I wasn't sure they were linked, the woman and the cat. But he says they are. When he says something like that, he knows. He says the cat is with her, invisible, until she's threatened. It shows itself then so that she can escape."
Uraeus whispered, "It cannot be with her always."
"I suppose not." The scribe shrugged. "There is a man who comes to the White Wall often who has a trained baboon, a big male. It will attack on command, or if it sees its master being attacked. He takes it with him whenever he goes out. But when he's at home it's locked in its cage."
I said, "Not an invisible baboon."
"No. One of the ordinary baboons who worship Ra. You say you haven't seen the cat down here, or the woman?"
"No. Not this time, at least. I suppose I could have been down here earlier, seen them, and forgotten it."
"I doubt it. You saw them both earlier, and described them to Qanju and me. You said the cat was large, half again as large as most cats."
I asked whether I had been afraid of it.
"I don't know. I doubt it. But the cat I saw was much larger than that. It must have been every bit as tall as a greyhound at the shoulder, with a tail as long as my arm." The scribe paused, biting his lips. "Sometimes unsuccessful exorcisms just make things worse. I was taught that in the House of Life, too; I'd almost forgotten it."
He paused to clear his throat. "Where did you get Uraeus, Latro?"
"My friend Sesostris gave him to me," I said.
"I-see. I don't like quizzing you like this, Latro. We've always been friends, and I'd like to stay friends. Do you happen to recall my name?"
Uraeus whispered it behind me, and I said, "You are Holy Thotmaktef."
"Right. I'm sorry to have troubled you." He spoke to my slave. "Uraeus, were you a slave in the temple of Sesostris up to the time we tied up there?"
Uraeus whispered, "Should I answer, master? I do not advise it."
"Yes," I said, "this time."
"I was not," he told the scribe.
"Where were you?"
Uraeus shook his head. There is something eerie about that, as I wrote earlier.
The scribe rose, wiping his palms on his thighs. "Lucius, will you order your slave to answer my questions?"
"No," I said. "Ask them of me, and I'll ask them of him if I choose."
"All right. There may not be many, and I'll ask this one of you. Will you please, as a favor to me, ask him to go over there under the hatch, where the light's better?"
I did.
"Now will you, as another favor, have him raise his chin?"
"Lift your chin," I told Uraeus. "There can be no harm in letting us see your neck."
He did. When I saw how wrinkled his neck was I knew he was older than I had thought.
"I was looking for a scar." The scribe seemed much more relaxed. "There isn't any."
I agreed.
"You said he'd been down here earlier alone, didn't you? Would you ask him whether he saw the cat-a huge black cat-or the woman down here then?"
I turned to Uraeus. "Did you?"
"No, master."
"Neither one?"
"No, master."
"Thank you," the scribe said. "I thank you both. A loyal slave who will hold his tongue is worth a great deal, Lucius. I congratulate you."
We watched the scribe climb the ladder to the deck, and I motioned for Uraeus to sit again. When we were both seated I said, "You understand that a great deal better than I do, I think. Probably better than Myt-ser'eu does, too. Explain it to me."
"No, master. Less than anyone, I fear. I had not heard of the cat until Thotmaktef mentioned it to us."
"But you had heard of the woman."
"Because I did not say I had not, master? No, no one had spoken of her to me. Do you wish to see her?"
"If you can show her to me."
"Then come, master." He led me to a bundle as long as I am high, a box wrapped in canvas and tied with rope. "She is in here, Master."
"Perhaps we shouldn't untie that," I said. "It doesn't belong to us, and there can't be a woman inside."
"I will not untie it, master." Uraeus looked up at me. I doubt that he ever smiles, but there was amusement in his slitted eyes. "Watch. I will show you this woman."
He lifted the lid without difficulty. The wax figure of a beautiful woman lay in the box. "I found this while hunting rats, master. I have an instinct for such things."
I was examining the wax figure. I lifted it,
finding that my fingers thought it a real woman of blood and flesh, and laid it back in its box.
"Would you like to hear it speak?"
I shook my head. "I can easily believe that people have been deceived into thinking this wax woman real. Is that what you mean?"
"It is real, master. A real woman shaped of wax. If you change your mind and wish to hear it speak and see it walk, you and I might force the warlock to animate it, I think."
12
I WAS AFRAID
"ARE YOU TALKING about our commander, Uraeus?" I returned to the boxes on which we had been sitting. "That little old man from Parsa?"
"No, master." Uraeus joined me, bringing the lid of the wax woman's box. "Qanju is a Magi. Holy Sahuset is the warlock. He is a man of my own nation."
"The healer."
"Sahuset may heal at times, master. I do not know."
"He can make that figure walk and talk? That's the woman the scribe was talking about?"
"Yes, master. Even by day, perhaps, although those who saw her in Ra's golden light might not be deceived. By night he can, certainly. And in dark places, too, or so I would guess."
"Can you do it?"
To that question, Uraeus shook his head; if I had not been unnerved already, that would have done it.
"You are no common man," I told him. Like so many frightened men, I spoke too loudly.
"There are no common men," he whispered. "Only men others consider so. You yourself are not among those, master."
"I suppose you're right."
"Nor are there common women. Your Myt-ser'eu is no common woman, and neither is Neht-nefret. No more is Sabra."
I asked who Sabra was, and he pointed to the wax figure. "It is a trick known to many, master. The wizard makes an image and causes the image to live for a time. I know you forget many things, but if you have seen a staff carved to resemble a serpent, you may remember it."
