Fires of Alexandria

by Thomas Carpenter

  Chapter Thirteen

  The light burning through the curtains reminded Heron that she'd slept too long. She rubbed her eyes and grabbed a water pouch, groaning audibly as she rolled over.

  Her thirst sated, Heron stared at the two serpents on the box next to her bed. She desired to lift the lid and mine the powder within. But eating needed to come first. Once she took the lotus powder, her hunger would fade.

  The harnesses that Punt had made for her lay in a pile. Heron maneuvered around until her legs lay parallel with them. Each jarring movement shot pain up her thighs. The swelling had reduced in the weeks since the attack, but every day was a new lesson in agony.

  Heron cursed repeatedly as she fit the harnesses over her legs and strapped them in. Climbing to her feet required use of two poles, the wall, and tricky maneuvering like a newborn foal. The day before she'd fallen the moment she'd made it upright.

  Heron desired the powder as she leaned on her poles, sweating from the effort, but she couldn't reach. She took a few feeble swipes at the box and gave up. After taking a deep breath, she made her way down the spiral staircase.

  Eventually, she made it to her desk in the workshop and settled on the pedestal they'd made for her. Exhausted and out of breath, Heron surveyed progress.

  The reddish-orange glow of liquid iron being poured into molds reflected across Punt's chest. Sparks erupted from the pour like a delicate fountain of light.

  In the main warehouse, workers scurried over scaffolding. Plutarch's high lilting voice carried above the hammering and sawing, keeping them ever in motion. Her workshop had never housed so many projects at once, including a few she didn't recognize.

  Sepharia appeared by her side. "You weren't supposed to be awake yet."

  "I've slept long enough. There's work to do," said Heron.

  Sepharia hugged her and squeezed her hand. "You need rest. This pace is killing you."

  Heron smoothed the hair away from her niece's face. "Better to die in the workshop working than at the hands of Lysimachus."

  Sepharia bit her lower lip and her eyes grew glassy and liquid.

  "I think it's time we got you safely away from the workshop," said Heron.

  "No!" cried Sepharia. "I want to help. There's so much you need me to do. Please. Especially with your legs."

  At mention of Heron's legs, Sepharia recoiled her hands to cover her mouth.

  "You'll help me by not being here. The game has grown too dangerous. Lysimachus has been hiring more men and the spies are doubling each week. I'm tempted to have the workers stay here. We have the work to do, and they're in danger each time they leave the workshop."

  Sepharia kneaded Heron's arm with her fingers, pleading with her eyes to stay. Heron could practically feel her saying that her twin would have let her stay. It was an argument she'd thrown in her face a thousand times before.

  "There's no use arguing. I've made up my mind," said Heron.

  The girl squeaked in frustration and ran from the room.

  Heron stared after her niece. No matter what she did for her, she'd never accepted her as a surrogate parent.

  Heron sighed and turned her thoughts back to the problem. The tricky part would be getting her out of the workshop unseen. The best opportunity would come when they were delivering her current project.

  After mulling the options, she turned back to the desk, finding Agog looming like a thunderhead. Plato have pity, that man is quiet, she thought.

  Heron sensed his disappointment even before he spoke.

  "When do you begin progress on the war machines?"

  Heron ignored the northerner and straightened the papyrus on her desk, placing smooth stones on the four corners to hold it down.

  "Preparations are in progress."

  Agog extended his great arm toward the workshop, indicating a row of metal soldiers on a platform being loaded onto carts by a trio of workers. Pulleys hanging from the ceiling reduced the weight, while it rolled over thin rods onto the wagon.

  "Those are toys, not an army!"

  The Northman paced around the desk, as much talking to himself as to Heron.

  "I'm throwing away coin, expecting an army and only getting toys to amuse children," he ranted. A few workers glanced in their direction, clearly worried by Agog's shouting.

  Agog picked up the aeolipile and spun the toy. "I might as well fight a war with these, they do me as much good."

  Heron watched Agog the whole time, quietly following him with her eyes. Patiently waiting.

  When he had expended his energy and stood over her, glaring with intensity, she calmly responded, "Are you done?"

  Her measured response deflated him and he uncrossed his arms and wandered away from her, only to come back when Sepharia entered the room with a rolled papyrus in her hands.

  "A messenger delivered this," said Sepharia, as she handed the papyrus to Heron.

  Heron broke the seal, letting the stamped wax fall to the floor, and opened the scroll. She'd been expecting the answer for days.

  Sepharia picked up the wax. "It's from the Library."

  Heron ignored Agog and Sepharia, who watched expectantly, and read the document.

  It was from Levictus, a scholar of the works on Caesar. She had delicately sent him a request about circumstance of the fires.

  She read the papyrus:

  Ave Heron,

  Words find you well. The summer swoons upon us with a great horde of rats. I do hope dear Flaccus sweeps them away. Your request is well received in my heart, but my hands would be robbing my own pockets, so I must busy myself with trivialities instead.

  Signed, your dearest friend, Levictus.

  His response made it clear he knew exactly what she was asking, but gave nothing she could use and worded in a way to warn her of making further requests. The topic of the fires would be taboo to a scholar of Caesar. He would lose access to Roman records if he was seen to be pursuing that path.

  Heron put the edge of the paper into the candle and dropped it onto the floor, watching it burst into flame and consume the message.

  With no other avenues forward, her deal with Hortio was the only way out of the dead end. She shuddered visibly.

  While she'd been reading the papyrus, Agog had been studying her. When she looked up, he raised an eyebrow to her in question.

  Sepharia waited silently at the edge of the room, cautiously wringing her hands. None of Heron's plans could move forward while her twin's daughter was in danger.

  Heron made a grunt of finality.

  Sepharia asked, "What?"

  "We're moving you tonight."