Fires of Alexandria

by Thomas Carpenter

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Heron's heart was relieved when she saw that the fire did not come from the Library. It seemed to originate in the Juden Quarter past the lake harbor, but she couldn't lean out the window further.

  Still, fire in the city was dangerous and could eventually spread to the Library if not contained. She hoped the harbor and canal would help keep the fire in the Juden Quarter. She had little to fear for her workshop, being on the south side of the Library. If her workshop was in danger, then the city would be a cinder by morning.

  What worried her were the other sounds of the night. The winds had ceased their usual bluster and from her perch she could hear metal ringing against metal, reflected from the stone buildings.

  For a brief moment, she considered the Northman was involved, but that was ludicrous. Even with her war machines and the governor's depleted garrison, he couldn't field enough troops to take on a city the size of Alexandria.

  Even if his armies hadn't been wiped out by the Romans, he couldn't get them south without alerting someone. Heron chuckled, amused by her own wild imagination.

  Realizing she wasn't going to learn anything new from her window, Heron went to the courtyard. Sepharia might have a different idea of what was happening.

  The open gate didn't immediately bring fear into her heart. At first, she assumed Sepharia had gone into the street for a better view of the fires and just wished she would have waited so they could speculate together.

  Then, when she saw the shadow of a man standing in the open gate staring into her workshop, her heart seized with worry. Especially when a hint of purple fabric flashed across the opening as the man disappeared.

  Limping toward the gate, her eye caught a locking nail lying on a timber. It was the closest thing to a weapon she could find on the way out, so she grabbed it and tucked it under her belt. The thin shaft of metal had a piece of string attached for temporarily pinning the nail into place and she used that to make sure it wouldn't slip from her belt.

  Halfway across the courtyard, she heard Sepharia yell her name.

  Heron hobbled faster.

  She reached the gate in time to see a group of four men carrying a struggling form around the corner.

  Heron followed.

  Before the last man slipped around the corner, she thought she saw purple again.

  And he'd glanced back toward her, as if the man wanted her to follow.

  She had no choice but to do so.

  At the corner, she hesitated, remembering she'd left the gate open. She had no worries about her neighbors, they knew enough to stay out from the incident with the Gaul mercs.

  But the streets were beginning to fill with curious onlookers, wondering what the distant shouting and orangish-red glow was.

  On the next street, Heron found she was falling behind Sepharia's abductors. They were two blocks ahead.

  Only the moon from the cloudless night made it possible to see that far.

  Moving east, she wished she still had her harnesses. The cane wasn't enough support for her to run and her knees were still weak.

  Passing Pompey Avenue, she caught her first glimpses of fighting.

  The avenue straddled the line between the Rhakotis District and the temples, going north to south. At the southern end, near the inner wall, flashes of steel and flame and a strange hulking shape drew her eye as she crossed.

  Fearful to even pause or look away, lest she lose sight of Sepharia's abductors, Heron only caught brief imagines.

  But as she ran she wondered if the hulking shape she saw looked like a huge metal lion.

  She might have thought it was one of her steam chariots, except she'd never made one to look like a lion. She'd kept the designs simple so she could produce Agog's ambitious orders.

  Her knees ached.

  Heron switched hands with the cane. The handle had begun to rub a blister into her palm.

  The group of four men turned down a distant street.

  Heron was thankful Alexander had devised a logical city with long, straight avenues and streets. In any other city of tortured stone buildings built around the whims of the growing populous, she would have already lost them.

  Heron pushed forward.

  The streets were awakening. Torch light popped up at random intervals.

  She had to get to the cross street the men had turned down soon. If they turned again, she'd lose Sepharia.

  Heron was knocked over by a shape running out from an alleyway. Her cane was kicked away in the impact.

  The man got up and ran before she could even figure out what had happened.

  She crawled to the cane, disoriented. Along with her cane, she found a piece of papyrus in the dirt. She climbed to her feet, still clutching the papyrus.

  Vertigo overtook her for a moment. Heron used the Lighthouse to orient herself to the chase. As she continued hobbling down the avenue, she mentally remarked how red and ominous the glow from the Lighthouse had been.

  She made it to the street she thought they'd gone down. Glimpses of a man disappearing down another street caught her notice, but she didn't know if it was them.

  The street they'd gone down was too close for it to have been the men. They had a bigger lead on her, especially with her being knocked down.

  Her only hint was a flash of purple.

  Yet, the only way she could have caught up was if they'd waited for her.

  It dawned on her then that it was likely they were luring her onward using her niece as bait.

  Heron considered going for help, but Punt's house was the other way and by the time she got back with him, Sepharia would be gone.

  When she got to the next street, she made her way cautiously around the corner. It was empty.

  The orangish-red glow of the fires had grown stronger during her chase.

  The sounds of battle carrying over the city were clearer now. A squad of Roman soldiers ran the other way behind her.

  She'd been rushing through the streets so headlong, she'd barely paid attention to her location, but slowing to a walk, she knew where she was.

  Temples lined the street going in both directions. Places of worship could be found anywhere in the city, but the largest grouping was where she was standing. It wasn’t an official district, but it was called the Temple District by habit.

  Heron had been in and out of almost all of them. In creating miracles, or scouting the competition.

  That the abductors had run to this region worried her. She'd been so focused into the chase, she hadn't considered why Sepharia might have been taken.

  Walking through the temple district, she realized it had to do with her investigation into the fires.

  The temples kept their fronts well lit, even during the night.

  Heron remembered the parchment clutched in her hand. She held it up to the torch light.

  It read: "Caesar started the fires, Flaccus desires to finish the job, rise up and throw out the Romans."

  The message was written in Greek, Latin and Egyptian.

  Heron thought to Hortio and his nobles. Could they be bold enough to overthrow the Romans? Didn't they know, even if successful, Rome would crush them mercilessly?

  She shook her head. It seemed improbable, but it explained the fires and the battle. Looking down the street she saw other parchments lying in the dust.

  Whoever had started it, had spread the pamphlets throughout the city. Though most were illiterate. In a city of scholars, there was always someone near enough to read.

  Despite the importance of the mystery, Heron pushed its consideration from her mind, she had a niece to find.

  The marching of feet alerted Heron to the troop of Roman soldiers entering her street.

  She was between lights, so she scurried to an alcove along a lesser temple. She fit herself beside a statue of a minor god with a face like a frog and a whip in one hand.

  As she waited for the soldie
rs to pass, she realized another person was on the other side of the alcove.

  "Apologies," she whispered in Egyptian. "I did not know anyone else was hiding here."

  "No matter," came the reply in rough Egyptian. "Enough room for two to hide from them thieving Romans."

  "What's going on?" she asked.

  "We're throwing them out," he said. "Even the gods are on our side."

  "The gods?" she asked.

  The man made a grunt of firm commitment. "I saw one myself kill a whole squad of Roman soldiers. The beast growled and then they all fell dead one by one."

  "Growled?" she asked, as what was probably the truth of his words dawning on her.

  "Like the mythical manticore spewing its deadly spikes. I saw it with my own eyes," he said.

  "Just the gods are fighting this war?" she asked, fearful of the answer.

  "The nobles too and their allies. Big beastly men. I saw one myself. Just about pissed myself." The man paused. "They say even the Michanikos has thrown in with the revolution. That's a good sign."

  That's a bad sign, Heron thought.

  Whatever the result, she was now an enemy of the Roman Empire. She knew who the nobles' beastly allies were as well.

  Agog was behind the war. She knew it by the man's words. But how he thought he could take Alexandria from Rome was beyond her.

  The soldiers had passed, so Heron ventured a question, "Friend, did you happen to see a group of men carrying a girl just a short time ago."

  "Yes I did," he said quickly. "They were a rightly strange group. They turned onto Hepta street. The one in purple robes kept checking backwards as if he were seeing if anyone was following. Except if they were, they'd surely find him, waiting like that."

  Getting knocked down in the street and hiding from the soldiers had delayed her long enough that the man in purple robes, a priest likely, had probably thought she'd gotten lost.

  That was a good sign. If they knew she was coming, she was at a disadvantage. If they thought she'd gone a different way or had been delayed, they wouldn't be expecting her. She had to hope.

  "Thank you for your assistance," she said. "But I must be going."

  He mumbled a common farewell.

  Heron stopped before she got too far from the statue.

  "Friend. If you'd like to earn a talent for your troubles. Go to Heron's workshop and wait there until someone arrives. When they do, let them know that Heron's daughter has been abducted and tell them to come to the temple district."

  The man mumbled a response.

  Heron took to the street, hobbling to Hepta street.

  As soon as she was about to turn the corner, she knew exactly who had taken Sepharia.

  Instead of turning down Hepta street, she went past. It would take longer, but she could circle around through the back alleys and approach the temple from the rear. Then she could surprise High Priest Ghet and rescue Sepharia from the Temple of Nekhbet.

  Heron raced up the street, as fast as she could manage, pushing herself though the pain as it shot up her thighs, making each step agony.

  Then, before heading up the alley, Heron paused and looked down to her wooden cane and swollen knees.

  She shook her head, deciding that she was a fool to think she could rescue Sepharia alone. But if she went to get Punt or the others, they would possibly move her.

  The only way to save Sepharia was to go then, while they thought she wasn't coming and wouldn't be there yet with reinforcements.

  The city was no safe place either. There was no guarantee she could even get back to the workshop. The battle lines could move across her path and she'd be cut off. If Sepharia was going to have a chance, she had to go now.

  Heron sighed heavily, imagining the sight of her assaulting the temple with only a wooden cane. She knew Agog would laugh.

  But she was Sepharia's only chance.