by Gene Wolfe
Qanju nodded and smiled. "Wisely spoken. You would go into the eastern desert as you say? You, Thotmaktef and his wife, and three soldiers? Only six in all?"
I shook my head. "Seven. I'll need to speak with this Medjay woman often. Myt-ser'eu must go with us so there will be a second woman."
Now she wishes to ask more questions. I will write here again soon. WE BOUGHT HORSES today. The soldiers from Parsa were our advisors concerning their horses and our own; they are very happy now. Agathocles and Thotmaktef struck the bargains for us. If all goes well, Thotmaktef will sell these horses when we return to the ship and recover most of the money we spent.
Myt-ser'eu wanted my slave to come with us. So did he. Thotmaktef objected, saying truly that he had been given gold by Qanju for seven horses, not eight. Myt-ser'eu wanted me to buy a horse for the slave, whose name is Uraeus. I would not. She said, "If he had a horse-not bought with Qanju's gold-will you let him come?"
I saw no reason not to. Someone to serve us will save us work and time. Most significantly, a slave to serve us will maintain my standing with my men, which is always important. I urged this to Thotmaktef, saying Uraeus would serve him and his wife as well. He was persuaded.
Having no carts and no pack horses, we cannot carry much. Weapons, and a few clothes. Myt-ser'eu is bringing her jewelry, fearing it will be stolen if she leaves it on the Gades. No doubt she is right, though Neht-nefret might watch it for her. For me-two pairs of sandals, a spare tunic, Falcata, the leather case that carries this scroll, and two blankets. I have bought boots. I could not find the kind I wanted-the kind that seems proper to me for a horseman. These are near it, however. I will wear them tomorrow.
We have seen Medjay on horseback, and Alala has spoken with them, while Myt-ser'eu, Agathocles, and Thotmaktef stood by. Their feet were bare. They carried spears and knives, and were mounted on horses I envied. Alala says they would not speak much concerning the mines, but they have pointed the way to her father's clan.
25
HOW LOVELY THIS IS!
WE ARE CAMPED among stones, sand, and grass, under the stars. We rode throughout a long day. When we made camp here, I did not know how I came to be here or who the others were. My wife had me read this. I have read, but found only confusion. I set down what I have learned from my wife, our servant, and the priest.
My bowmen are Baginu, Vayu, and Kakia. They are to obey me, and do. (I have tested this.)
The priest, Holy Thotmaktef, is our commander. I obey him. My servant says our commander often asks my advice. The tall young woman is Alala, our commander's wife.
My own wife is also young. I like both women, but like my own best. She sits close by, although she says she cannot read what I write. Our servant is the oldest man here and may be the wisest, too. He wears a hat like mine. My soldiers wear caps. The women cover their heads with shawls against the sun. I have a hat of striped cloth, like a bag without a bottom. The priest's head is shaved. He held a shade above it when the sun was high.
I wear a beetle of gold and enamel about my neck. Our servant says I must not take it off. Who would steal it here? Not he, or he would not warn me. The priest, who has already a bag of gold? His eyes say he does not steal. Kakia, perhaps. I must watch him.
The priest calls this desert the Red Land. He marvels to find it green in many places. I think it beautiful, though too dry for wheat or barley. With a pack of hounds and a few good horses, one might hunt here for years. There are high hills of broken rock, boulders, and- A LION ROARED, not far off. It frightened our horses and the two women. I have set a watch, each to stand for a quarter of the night, taking the first myself. I to moonrise, Baginu until the moon is high, Vayu until it is behind the hills, and Kakia to sunup. Tomorrow each is to watch earlier, Baginu taking the first and I the last. If a horse breaks its tether, our sentry is to wake me.
We camped here at my urging because there is water, though not much. We have dug a little pool for our use, and another, catching the overflow from the first, for our horses. Both overflow now, but the water is soon lost in the sand of the dry watercourse. My servant found pictures on a rock. They are old, I would say, but sheltered by an overhang so that they have not weathered. The priest's wife said her people made them, and that defacing them offends the gods. I would not have defaced them anyway. Men cast their spears at a beast with a long nose and long fangs. If there are really such beasts in this land, I would like to see one.
I found another place and scratched my name there: latro. Also a picture of our camp: the fire, the people, and our horses. We are six men and two women. My wife sang and played for us. Now she sleeps, but the chill wind sings for me still, and the stars look down. WE ARE SEVEN men and two women-no longer as I wrote. What happened this morning was- I WILL WRITE and let the others talk. I listen to them, but write still. Myt-ser'eu says I forget what I do not write, and I feel she speaks truly.
When I woke I found I had slept with my head cradled in the hands of a black warrior who wore a plumed headdress. "You were not among us when I slept," I said. "Did Baginu welcome you to our camp?"
He laughed. I think I liked him already, but his laugh made me like him more, as I still do. It is rich and warm, a laugh that makes me want to laugh with him. "I go wherever I please," he told me, "and creep under the door."
"Then I must welcome you. We come in peace. Are these your hunting grounds?"
"Yes," he said, "but not mine alone."
At that moment one of the soldiers from Parsa came to me. "Who are you talking to, sir?"
I said, "I don't know his name. We have just met, but he comes as a friend."
"There's no one there!"
"What sort of sentry are you," I asked him, "if you can't see a man sitting before you?"
I found no name in me, but I remembered what my wife had called me; to the plumed stranger I said, "I am Latro," and offered my hand.
He clasped it as friends do. The bowman-his name is Kakia-gaped at that and backed away with his war ax in his hand.
Uraeus came and bowed very low to the stranger, who said, "Greetings, Uraeus of Sesostris. Well met!" At these words Uraeus backed away, still bowing.
By this time the sun had risen. I apologized to the plumed stranger, saying I must have rolled upon him while I slept.
"It was a small service," he said, "to give one from whom I hope so much help." Everything he says is said in my own tongue, not in the tongue these people speak nor as my soldiers speak to me. But I scarcely noticed it at the time.
Our talk woke my wife. "Who is this, Latro?"
"A friend," I said.
He smiled at her. "Your tribe calls me the Good Companion. You are fair to look upon, little cat of Hathor, but you must wear your gown or come to harm."
She did, putting it on quickly, though it was wrinkled from the washing she had given it before we slept.
"Does this man guard you well, little cat?"
"Oh, yes! He's loving, strong, very brave."
"It is well you spoke so. You have my blessing, little cat."
"Thank you, sir." Myt-ser'eu bowed. (There was no hint of mockery in that bow, though I think such mockery must often be found in her words and gestures.) "You should bless him, sir. Bless Latro."
"He is already blessed." The stranger spoke to me. "My name is Arensnuphis, Latro."
I said, "Well met!"
"So you must speak of me. I have other names in other places and for other men, just as you do. I require your help. Will you give it?"
"Certainly," I said, "if I can."
"Latro must do as Thotmaktef directs," Myt-ser'eu put in hastily. "Holy Thotmaktef is his commander."
Thotmaktef came to us at once. It may be that he came because he heard his name, but I felt that Arensnuphis had brought him; I cannot explain this.
"I am Thotmaktef," he said, and bowed.
"I am Onuris," Arensnuphis said, and rose. He is two heads taller than I, and his headdress of bright feathers makes
him appear taller still. His weapons: a net, and a spear as tall as he.
Now he speaks with Thotmaktef, Alala, and Myt-ser'eu, and I no longer recall our making camp last night or which horse is mine, though I remember that I remembered both these things not long ago. Thotmaktef wishes everyone to help Arensnuphis, and suggests many ways in which it might be done. He wants only me, and tells the rest in many ways that their help is not needed. He does not say how he wishes me to help him, but I know he will tell me when the time is ripe. HERE WE HALTED early because of the rain. It does not wet Arensnuphis, but he halted for my sake. I brought a little food, and there is water in plenty running from the rocks. I have drunk my fill.
Already the grass is greener.
He kindled a fire for me in the shelter of this great stone, a fire of dried dung, for there is no wood in this land-no wood at all. He bid me read all this before sunset. Now I have, beginning with Muslak, the ship, and the temple. I know now where I have been, though not who I am nor how I came to be as I am.
Arensnuphis stands upon one leg, on the hilltop in the rain. His plumes are not wet, and so bright that I can make out their colors from where I sit. He wears the sunrise.
We hunt his wife, Mehit, whom he must catch again and tame each year at this time. He wishes my help because I will see her among the hills though other men do not, a young lioness, shining and very great.
I have seen other gods, gods of whom I have read here. None could have been as fine as he, the Good Companion who kindled fire for me.
Set is god of the south. So I read not long ago. I am in the south, I think.
Twice today we saw black cattle. The herdsmen are dark, their horses of many colors, their dogs as black as the cattle they drive, sharp-eared as wolves, long-legged and very swift. They saw me and came toward me, then seemed to forget me and turn away. Arensnuphis did that, I feel sure. They do not see or wind him. He told me this. At his word they no longer saw me, and forgot me at once. So I believe. WE CAPTURED HER. I saw her pug-marks in the mud, and we tracked her many miles.*
She was a lioness of gold, the most beautiful animal ever seen, and it was I who drove her into Arensnuphis's net, shouting and waving my sword. She could not understand how it was I saw her. I read it in her eyes.
This I will not believe when I read again. I know I will not, yet I write only the truth. When Arensnuphis had netted her, he drove his spear into her. She did not bleed, but rose and was a lovely woman as tall and dark as he, clad in a lion's skin. They embraced and were gone.
Her lion's skin she left behind. At first, I feared to touch it. When I touched it at last, it vanished slowly as a morning mist of gold, leaving a single hair that shines very bright. I have rolled it into this scroll so that I may find it another day and remember. *A mile was one thousand double steps as marched by a Roman soldier: miles militis. Thus it is close kin to words like military and militia, and to the given name Milo. The narrator actually wrote "m."
26
IN THE MINE
THERE IS LITTLE light and less comfort. Our friend Kames brought me this scroll, with the reed brushes and a block of ink, all in a leather case. I wet the brush with my drinking water, of which we have too little, and write so that he can watch me. He is rarely here, but Myt-ser'eu has told him I wrote so often, and wrote everything on this scroll. He tells me much of her and says this. So does the man who comes and goes, and Thotmaktef. MYT-SER'EU CAME. SHE is my wife, Thotmaktef says. He had told me something of her before, but neither how beautiful she is nor how young. She kissed me, after which we spoke in whispers. She is very frightened. She has been taken by force more than once, and talks of killing the men who did it. I told her she could not, that it was a man's work and I will do it.
As I will.
She brought more water. We thanked her, and asked for more. I asked for another lamp, too. It is dark here, save when they bring torches and make us dig. I am able to write these things because the man who comes and goes brought more oil for the lamp he brought us before. He wants me to read this. I have read of a plumed god and many other things. KAMES CAME TO warn me. He says one of my men has told them about the bald man, saying he is my servant. He says they will question me about him. While he was with us in the mine, the priest's wife came. They forced her, she says, but fear her because she is of the Medjay. I asked about these Medjay, and they are the herdsmen I read of in this scroll. The prince said this, and that they were his forefathers' people, long ago. Now he digs like the rest of us.
Soon guards came and brought me to this hut by the smelter. They asked me about the case that holds this, and when I showed them what was in it they tried to take it. I killed them, striking them with my chain and strangling them afterward. I have their daggers now-two long blades. If someone else comes by day, I will kill him as well. When night comes I will go out, and we will see. THE MAN WHO got away came. He is so silent that he stood before me before I knew he had come. They are looking for the two I killed, he said. Soon they will look here. I will fight until they kill me. THERE WAS NOISE outside and much excited talk. I heard Kames's voice. He was speaking, first in one tongue and then in another. A woman spoke. Perhaps she was the Myt-ser'eu I have read about. She was not the priest's wife-I remember that voice. This woman spoke loudly, and her tones were less soft.
It is nearly dark. Someone plays a lute. URAEUS AND I carried away the dead men and hid them among the rocks. These Nubians do not keep good watch. He wished to steal horses and go for help. I said I would not leave the others. I told him to steal a horse and bring whatever help he could. He did not wish to leave me, but I ordered him to go. He is my slave, he says. He said there would surely be a guard on the horses and asked whether he might kill him. I told him to kill anyone who tried to prevent him from carrying out my order. URAEUS RETURNED. THERE are no horses. There is little grass here, he says, and they may have been taken where there is better grazing. Shortly before sundown he left me to look.
The sun set, and I went out. Four with spears came to this hut, and there was much loud talk. I wanted to go back into the mine, but there is a fire before it and guards with spears, shields, and swords. The new woman was talking at the big fire. I crept nearer to listen. She spoke the tongue of Kemet. Then Kames spoke as Nubians do. Another spoke, and Kames told her-and me-what had been said. So it went.
The woman: "It is a great treasure, I tell you! A magical treasure. It is a woman of wax who will become a real woman at my command. You will have four women then instead of three."
Another woman spoke as Nubians do, and they struck her.
Kames: "Piy asks if you think they are to be lured away so easily? If they go, your friends will come to free Prince Nasakhma."
The woman: "Give me one man and three horses, and I will bring you this treasure in a day, a magical treasure for which your king will give a sack of gold. Then you will marry me, Piy, and we will be happy forever."
Kames: "He says you only wish food, rest, and a horse. Then you would escape from him. It would be easy to escape one man. He says, tell us where the treasure lies. I will send soldiers to get it. They will bring it here, and when they do, you must show me your magic. If you cannot, so much the worse for you."
She told them where it was, and Uraeus and I left so as to be there before they came. We have found the box, and the dead horse that carried it. Now we three wait for them.
I hear voices. PIY HAD SENT four of his dark soldiers with five horses. We waited to let them find the box and find it held no woman. Sabra went to them, showing by gestures that she was the one who had been in the box. They did not believe her. She lay down in the box, and when one bent over her to see, she stabbed him in the throat.
Uraeus bit one. He fell in convulsions, which I do not understand. I killed two with my daggers. We took the box, their horses, and their spears and rode to this place, where we have built a fire. I ate food from their saddlebags, but not Uraeus, who hunts among the rocks. Sabra says she does not
eat, but needs a woman's blood. I did not believe it.
"Neht-nefret would have smeared me with her blood and uttered the spell to awaken me," Sabra explained. "That was what we planned. Love wakes me now."
"I do not love you," I told her. She is very beautiful, but I know that I could never love or trust her.
"No, you love your little singing girl. That silly lute player."
Now I know who played the lute I heard, and that I love her. I have written very much so that I will not forget. Uraeus insists that I must do this. Sabra is a woman of wax, lying in her box; and I must sleep. SABRA, URAEUS, AND I talked this morning of how we might free Myt-ser'eu and the others. I did not believe Uraeus could do as he said, but he called cobras from the rocks. He said I was to take up one and Sabra the other two. We did, and they were gentle in our hands. After that, Sabra and I rode here to the mine.
"This is a prisoner of yours," she told them. "I have recaptured him for you."
She spoke to me as she lay down in the box we had brought. "Go back to the mine, fellow!"
I did as she bid, still wearing the chain that had made it so difficult to ride.
The others welcomed me, having feared I was to be killed. "I escaped," I told them, "and we will all be free shortly. I've arranged it."
The prince-Nasakhma is his name-said, "But you have been retaken!"
"Only because I wished to be. I have these for you." I began taking the knives and daggers from under my tunic. There were six. Kames was above; thus I gave one to the prince, one to Thotmaktef, and one to each of my soldiers. One I kept for myself.
"Should we charge the guards?" asked Baginu.
I shook my head. "Charge when I give the order. If you fight bravely and skillfully, we'll be free. Now be silent a moment, all of you."
They were, until Thotmaktef whispered, "A lute…" His ears are better than mine.
