Soldier of Sidon l-3

by Gene Wolfe

  "Sometimes even to men like you. Listen. My master gave a pet to a worshipper. You know him. Evil men drove that pet away. It returned to my master, mewing numberless complaints. You have a kitten yourself. Conceive it."

  I could only think that I was speaking to a god I was about to kill. I took one step, and another, and shook as if awakened from a dream of falling. The tread of sandaled feet sounded again, this time from above.

  "I came to investigate," the panther said, "and to help the worshipper if help were needed. Many gods have sought to kill me, and have failed."

  The sandaled feet were behind him.

  "My master gives him a helpmeet for him." The panther's tail swung to and fro, like the tail of a cat that watches for prey. "Farewell."

  At that moment I recalled the stool, which I had brought to use as a shield. I flung it at the panther, but he was no longer there.

  The stool clattered on the empty steps. The sandaled feet were already far below. Their quick tread faded…And was gone.

  When I returned to this room, Myt-ser'eu was still asleep, in a welter of blood. I cut strips from my headcloth to make a bandage. Neht-nefret heard her sobs and helped, rousing an inn servant, bringing clean rags, and kindling this lamp.

  "I dreamed I had the most beautiful bracelet," Myt-ser'eu told us. "It was rubies, and circled my wrist like flame-a bracelet a queen might wear."

  Neht-nefret asked, "Did you see who cut you?"

  I do not believe Myt-ser'eu heard. Her big, dark eyes were full of dreams. "My sister Sabra asked me to give it to her," she said, "and I did. I gave it gladly."

  Neht-nefret bent above her. "Do you have a sister? You never talk about her."

  "Yes." Myt-ser'eu nodded as the dream left her. "She's older than I am. Her name's Maftet, and I hate her." After that, she wept as before. She is pale and very weak.

  It is a clean wound, long, and deeper than I like. Soon I will tell Myt-ser'eu we must change her bandage; I want to look at her wound again by sunlight.

  This is enough writing. I must get what sleep I can. Muslak slept the whole time. WE ARE BACK on the ship. I wanted to take Myt-ser'eu to the healer, but he was still on shore. I took her to Qanju instead, and he and Thotmaktef washed her wound and applied a healing ointment. "This will hold the edges closed," Qanju told her, "provided you do not finger it and do not try to lift any heavy thing. You have lost a great deal of blood."

  She promised that she would not, and he made her leave us and lie down in the shade. "You must get the best water you can for her," he told me, "and mix it with wine. Five measures of water to each of wine."

  I said that I had no wine.

  "You have money, Lucius, and money will always buy wine. Go to the market as soon as it opens. You must get good wine, you understand. Buy from a reputable merchant."

  "I'll go with you," Thotmaktef said, "if the Noble Qanju does not object."

  "The water must be good, too," Qanju told us, "the purest obtainable."

  Then he began to question me about the events of the night. I had read this scroll, and I told him about the chime I had heard, and the cat.

  "That was the Dark God," Qanju said; he did not seem afraid. "We call him Angra Manyu. He has but that one name among us, but many others among other peoples. He is the thing that eats the stars."

  I do not believe stars can be eaten, but I did not contradict Qanju.

  "We call him Apep," Thotmaktef told me, "and Aaapef. Set, Sut, Sutekh, Setcheh, and many other names."

  I asked whether it were not possible to appease this god.

  "You would not wish to do so," Qanju said.

  The healer returned with a monkey riding his shoulder. This monkey made faces at Myt-ser'eu and me, chattered, whispered to the healer, tried to peer up Myt-ser'eu's thin cotton shift, and did many other things that amused me.

  I told the healer how Myt-ser'eu had been hurt, but he did not wish to examine her wound. "If the Noble Qanju has treated it, he will have done all I could do," the healer said. "I will make an amulet for her to keep this from happening again."

  He took the little bag Myt-ser'eu wears about her neck; I saw that she was loath to part with it, although she did at my urging. It was given to her by a priest of Hathor.

  "What of the Dark God," I said, "the god Noble Qanju calls Angra Manyu?"

  "You sit in the sun all day," the healer told me, "in order to be comfortable. Is that not so?"

  I said that I did not remember, but that it did not seem likely. Myt-ser'eu said we sit in the shade. The sun here is bright and strong, and even the sailors lounge in the shade when they have no work to do. My soldiers-the five from Kemet-make shades of their big shields.

  "In that case," the healer told us, "you must not listen when men speak ill of the Dark God."

  I asked whether this god ever appeared as a black cat of great size.

  "Ah, you've seen his servant. He often takes that shape. I see him in that shape by night, here on the ship."

  I explained that he had kept me from returning to Myt-ser'eu while she was being cut; the healer said it would not happen again, that the amulet he would give her would prevent it.

  Myt-ser'eu said, "How was it possible for someone to cut me without waking me? I had drunk only a single bowl. I swear it."

  "Her knife is very sharp," the healer said, "and she knows spells that bring deep sleep."

  We wanted to know who this woman was. It was clear he knew her. He would not tell us, saying that the time was not ripe and ill fortune would follow if he revealed her name.

  "If the panther is a god," I said, "how is it he serves this woman?"

  "He is not and does not," the healer told us. "He serves the Dark God, and Sabra serves me."

  18

  THE MONKEY

  THE HEALER'S PET wished us farewell as Thotmaktef, Uraeus, and I went to the market to buy wine for Myt-ser'eu. It used both front paws, and it seemed to me the omen was ill. If a man had those eyes, I would at once suppose him a bad one.

  Qanju had told us to buy good wine, and to bring Myt-ser'eu only the cleanest and purest water. This is because of the wound she suffered while sleeping in an inn. Now I can recall neither the inn nor the panther, but I know I told Qanju about them. I have read this scroll, and all that I said is written here as well.

  When we had left our ship, and indeed the quay and its storehouses, behind us, Thotmaktef assured me that Muslak would not put out without me, and that Qanju would not permit him to put out without us in any case.

  After that, the first thing we did ashore was to buy a new headcloth for me. My head is shaved, I suppose to prevent vermin, and Thotmaktef said people would assume that I was another priest if I did not cover it. My head is large, but a seller of such cloths had his wife sew one to my measure. She was quick, and the cloth is strong cotton with blue stripes. It keeps the sun from my head and shelters my shoulders too. I like it very much and paid for a second for Uraeus, whose bald head might easily be mistaken for a shaved one.

  Thotmaktef and I talked of our errand. He pointed out that we would require more water than wine. A single jar of wine would be sufficient, but we should have five of water. We rented a donkey with panniers to carry our jars and bought five large jars for water cheaply and without difficulty. The woman who sold them told us there was a foreign shop not a hundred steps from her stall that sold the best wine in all Kemet, fine vintages straight from Hellas.

  We went in and introduced ourselves to the merchant, whose name is Agathocles. "We spoke yesterday," he told me. "You were with a pretty young lady, remember? I told you why we call this polis Thebes of the Thousand Gates. You told me you had only just come to Wast and were traveling south."

  I did not remember, but I recalled reading of the encounter in my scroll and said I did.

  "I've seen you before that, too." He drummed his chest with his fingers, which seems to be a habit of his when perplexed. "That was why I went up to you and spoke. I wish I could rem
ember where."

  "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 for
efinger.

  "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.