Fires of Alexandria

by Thomas Carpenter

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sepharia could still hear Astrela's snoring even though she'd stuffed tufts of cotton in her ears. She thought about taking her work table into the courtyard in back, but she was forbidden to leave the house.

  No wonder Punt stayed at the foundry for long hours, she thought.

  Sepharia hadn't heard much news from the foundry. Since her aunt had been maimed by the tax collector, and she'd been shipped off to hide at Punt's house, Sepharia had been kept in the dark.

  She blew her hair out of her face and readjusted the shaping tool to get a better grip. She leaned over the piece of brass and set the curved tool into the ridge.

  After raising the small hammer, she leaned back to review the sketching before she struck the tool. Aunt Ada's notes had been clear" if the teeth didn't fit exactly, it would be useless.

  Sepharia tapped gently, scraping away the soft metal. After a cleansing breath, she picked up the companion piece and set it into the notch.

  When the pieces fit snugly, she blew out the breath she'd been holding and sat back. She was about to congratulate herself when she noticed the notes at the bottom of the sheet.

  "...the fitting between the two sides must be no tighter OR looser than a human hair..."

  Sepharia frowned and plucked a hair from the back of her head, grimacing slightly at the deed. She had to take one from the back to find one long enough.

  Taking the two ends in her fingertips, she slipped the hair between the two pieces. It didn't want to go at first, but with a little pulling, slid around three-quarters of the way. On the last leg, the hair got stuck and she couldn't put it through.

  Sighing, Sepharia pulled them apart and felt around the offending area with her finger tip. A small raised portion would have to be shaved off for the two pieces to fit perfectly.

  She set the piece back into the catch, picked up her hammer and chisel and set it against the bump. With a few light taps, she removed enough material, that to the eye anyway, would make them fit.

  A quick test with the hair proved her intuition and she set the tools down and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She only had one tooth done and she'd been at it for hours.

  Finishing the piece would require seven more fittings and if she made a mistake on any of them, it would require a complete redo.

  Aunt Ada had given her until midday to complete the job. She wasn't going to get any sleep tonight.

  Sepharia shook her head. Her father's twin had asked her to stop calling her that.

  It was hard to remember. Each time she called Ada by her father's name, she felt like she was betraying his memory, erasing him from the world.

  She'd never understood why Ada hadn't taken one of the many suitors in Greece that had offered. If Ada had, then Sepharia's life might have been a normal one.

  She missed her father, not that she knew him, other than faded memories of him bent over at his work desk or when he returned drunk after losing his money on gladiator fights.

  Sepharia pulled the clothes she'd brought with her out from under her mat. They were the clothes she'd used to disguise herself as Sada. She shook her head. She'd been so foolish not to have already picked a name when the Northman had asked her.

  Luckily it'd been dark and his mind had been on other things. At least she didn't have to worry about the chest bindings. Her budding chest was barely noticeable.

  Yet the tax collector had noticed her. Sepharia shivered. She'd overheard what he'd said. She had no interest in a man with a pot belly. Especially one so much older than she.

  Sepharia fingered the tunic and wandered to the doorway, tentatively peeking out at the night sky, being careful to stay hidden in the darkness.

  The waning moon cast a silver light across the ground. Across the courtyard, a little brown dog with a paw missing lay curled up in a doorway.

  "Get away from that doorway," whispered a voice menacingly from behind her.

  Sepharia squeaked, holding the tunic to her chest.

  Astrela hobbled out of the darkness behind her, squinting and scratching her matted hair.

  "The absence of your hammering woke me. You know you're not supposed to be near a doorway. If the Alabarch finds you here, he'll take you and rape you and you'll never see your father again," said Astrela.

  "Don't say that," whispered Sepharia.

  "The truth? Why not?" she asked. "My life is at stake too because my pride-filled husband couldn't convince your father to beg the gods for forgiveness."

  "The gods don't care about us," said Sepharia.

  Astrela made a crossing sign with her fingers and spit into her palms before rubbing them together.

  "The gods watch us every moment. Judging us." Astrela poked split fingers at Sepharia. "Don't you forget that."

  Sepharia tucked the tunic behind her back. "If it helps you sleep, I'll get back to my work. I'll be up all night anyway, I really should get back to it. I just needed to stretch," said Sepharia.

  Drawn by the motion to put the tunic behind her, Astrela stalked up to Sepharia and yanked it from her fingers.

  "What's this?" she asked, shaking it.

  Sepharia clamped her mouth shut and glared at the old woman.

  Astrela unbunched the tunic and smoothed it out, holding it to the faint moonlight slipping through the doorway.

  "A man's tunic? Why would you have such a thing?" she asked.

  "I was cold."

  Sepharia flinched, regretting her words instantly. She should have said that she used it as a rag or a pillow or anything but wearing it.

  Astrela's gaze went from the tunic to her short hair and back again.

  "You've been sneaking out?" she accused.

  "Ah—No...," whispered Sepharia.

  Normally she had witty comebacks for Punt or Plutarch or one of the workers, but standing in front of Astrela, who glared at her with the tunic clutched in her hands, all she could do was stammer.

  Astrela grabbed her by the ear and dragged her into the kitchen. Then she pulled a small leather bag from beneath the wrap that hid her wrinkled body. The bag was suspended from her neck by a cord.

  She loosened the bindings and shook the contents into her hand. The bones shone ghostly white, reflecting the moon even though they did not sit beneath its gaze.

  "Your breath," said Astrela.

  "Wha—?" stuttered Sepharia.

  "Breathe on it for Ra's sake," she said.

  When Sepharia hesitated, Astrela shoved her face into the bones.

  "That's good enough."

  Astrela cupped the bones between her hands, shaking them vigorously and mumbling to herself. The words were sharp and menacing, almost that each utterance was a curse in itself.

  Astrela's eyes rolled back into her head until only the white remained. Then, before Sepharia could blink, Astrela cast the bones upon the table. The two short bones crossed each other while the curved bone with a flat blade on it sat to the side.

  Astrela hovered over the bones, searching across the table, whispering to herself. When she made a satisfied grunt, Sepharia's gut twisted like a rope.

  "The bones are wise," said Astrela, clearly waiting for her to ask what they said.

  Sepharia bit her lip and resisted the urge. She hadn't yet decided if the gods were real, but such thoughts were heresy in the sands of Egypt.

  But she also knew that once Astrela had grabbed for her bag of bones, the results wouldn't be in her favor. Ada's stories about the priests of the temples told her that much. Too often the "oracles" they made for the temples were manipulated by the priests so they could maximize their profits.

  When she realized that Astrela was content to wait all night for her to ask, she muttered in her smallest voice, "What did they say?"

  Astrela smiled, and Sepharia despised her for that grin. Even that Punt, her husband, was like a favorite uncle to her, wasn
't enough to contain her hatred.

  "Great pain awaits you outside these walls for the gender thief. If you dare sneak out before the words of your father have blessed your return, death by the jaws of Horus will be your fate," said Astrela.

  Sepharia wanted to tell her that Ada wasn't her father, so her bones had to be a lie, but she didn't dare, so she plopped back onto her chair, signaling to Astrela that she needed to work.

  Astrela smirked and left the room, tucking the tunic under her arm.

  Sepharia picked up the tiny hammer and sighed heavily, staring at the papyrus, even though her mind was not on her work.

  That little act wasn't going to scare her into staying in the house, Sepharia thought. In fact, it had practically guaranteed she would escape, just as soon as she could get her tunic back.

  After a long spell of sulking and thinking about how much she hated Astrela and wanted to strangle her, Sepharia huffed and cleared her mind.

  She needed to get back to work.

  If she didn't get the brass connecting device shaped by the next day, Aunt Ada would strangle her first.