by Gene Wolfe
"We will have to stay here at Asyut tonight and tomorrow at least," Muslak told me. "My crew is off sightseeing, drinking, dancing, and looking for women now, and it will be that long-if not longer-before we'll be ready to sail again."
Neither Myt-ser'eu nor I had any objection, though I wished we had been able to find an inn so I might enjoy her with decency. As it was, we slept on board, went into the city this morning to watch the bullfighting, and returned to this ship (where we sit now) for a splendid view of the grand procession.
I cannot say whether I have seen bullfighting before; but I think not, for it seemed novel to me. It is a rowdy sport, and for that reason I did not think at first that Myt-ser'eu and Neht-nefret would enjoy it. Soon I learned that they liked it as least as well as I.
It would have been better, I thought, to have had a special place set aside for it, in which the spectators might watch in safety. (I mentioned this to Uraeus, but he would not agree.) As it is, spectators have no protection save the ropes about the horns of the bulls by which their handlers slowed their charges when they tried to toss us.
They were led to the field with ropes through their noses; these were cast aside once the bulls had seen each other and were prepared to fight. Both were large and strong, very fine. Loosed, they charged and charged again, circled, feinted, and indeed made me think of swordsmen who held two swords, something I feel sure I must have seen.
At last the black bull threw down the red and white, and gored him terribly before he could rise. Like bees, the black bull's handlers swarmed over him, and put their rope through his nose once more. Then he was washed and decked with garlands. I am told that he will be kept at the temple until his death, then buried as befits the herald of Ptah.
Besides this, there were races and games of all the kinds befitting soldiers. Muslak and others wished me to wrestle; but Neht-nefret warned me that the crowd would be displeased if a foreigner won, and might well mob me. This was wise, I think. I declined to take part.
This procession is well worth seeing. Richly robed, the images of every god in the city pass us on boats, rowed by their worshippers and attended by their priests. There is great pageantry. Jeweled fans of bright feathers cool these images. Dancers whirl about them. The riverbank is lined with spectators as far as the eye can see, and there are thousands more on boats and ships like ours.
Perhaps I should not write this, but I can expunge it later if I think that best. The image of Anubis was only an image, I would judge of carved and painted wood. So it was with the images of the other gods, until Ap-uat came. He seemed to me no image at all, but a wolf-headed man larger than any man. He looked at me as he passed, and cocked his head as if to ask, "Are you coming?" Had he shown his teeth, I think I might have run like any coward and hidden in the hold. ANUBIS WISHED ME to meet him in the city of the dead. I had not forgotten that when we tied up here this morning, and indeed have not forgotten it now, though I never saw him. When we were at the quay, I left off whetting my sword and gave Uraeus the long dagger I had borrowed for him from Tybi, telling him where I had gotten it and that it must be returned. It was a fine dagger, double-edged and very sharp. He refused it, saying he did not need it, and gave it to Myt-ser'eu. She thanked him but returned it to Tybi, saying that she would surely lose it.
So it was, with an omen that could scarcely be worse, that we set out. We went to the market to ask the way to the city of the dead. The market was practically empty, though Myt-ser'eu says it was crowded yesterday after the procession.
She looked at jewelry and daggers among the many booths that sold such things; I bought her a small one in what seems to be the style of Kemet-a dagger like a needle, with an eye in its grip.*
She asked whether we were to go to the city of the dead by day. I had not considered this, but I reclaimed this scroll from Uraeus and read aloud to her all the healer had said and done, and she said we were surely to go by night, since he had asked whether I would be afraid to. Little children, she says, visit the dead by day; but by night all the cities of the dead can be evil places.
"Is it then," I asked, "that the Eater of Blood comes forth from the tomb?" For it seemed to me that I had heard of such a one.
She laughed and said only infants believe such things, but she was frightened, I know. "If I must face the Eater of Blood for you, I want to do it on a full stomach," she told me. "Have you enough left to buy us a good meal?"
I got out my coins, and we decided there was enough to buy simple meals for the three of us; but by the time we had found an uncrowded cookshop that suited Myt-ser'eu, Uraeus was gone. This saved some money, so we got better meals than we had planned, and beer with them. The fried fish and fresh, hot barley cakes were excellent. It was only when we had almost finished that I realized I would not be able to pay for a room that night. I told Myt-ser'eu we would have to return to the ship and sleep there again.
"No, we won't," she told me. "Muslak has a lot of money, and he'll be happy to give you enough for a fine room and more. If you intend to sacrifice today, you'll have to ask him for money anyway, won't you? Enough for a nice black lamb, and they won't be cheap here."
I confessed I had not thought of that.
"Well, you'd better. The way to ask for money is to ask for a lot, take as much as you can get, and come back soon. That's worth knowing, darling, so you'd better write it in your scroll."
"I will," I said. "I'll need to know about it as long as you're with me."
That made her angry. She shouted at me and wept. I tried to comfort her, and when she would not be comforted told her to go back to the ship, saying that I knew now where the city of the dead lay and would go there alone tonight.
"I won't! You're a beast, and you'd think I got mad so I wouldn't have to come with you."
I left the cookshop then, telling her I would punish her if she did not remain there. I had walked far from the market before I realized she was following me. I chased and caught her, and we kissed.
"Aren't I fast runner, Latro?"
"Very fast," I said. "It's those long legs. But you run too fast at first, and so lose a long race."
"Did you think I didn't want to be caught?" She kissed me again and told me I was too big to run as fast as she did. There may be some truth in that, but I know I could outdistance her in a cross-country race; she was breathing hard by the time I caught her.
The city of the dead is on desert land, not as level as it might be, with barren hills beyond it. The sun stood low before us by the time we reached the gates, a sullen crimson. There are streets in the city of the dead, just as in a city of the living. The houses lining these streets are tombs, much smaller than real houses. Most are square; some are of mud brick, some stone. The doors of a few stone tombs are broken.
We walked the streets of the silent city until we had left the last of the newest tombs behind, and there was only red land, and the hills, before us. I told Myt-ser'eu I wished to continue, climb a high hill, and view all Asyut from there. Her feet hurt, but she promised to wait for me.
I did as I had planned. Twilight came before I reached the first sizable hill; even so, the climb was not difficult. I climbed it, and viewed the city from the summit, watching its lights kindle and its shutters close, and seeing the broad and shining serpent of river beyond it, the Great River that everyone says is the biggest in the world. I saw Myt-ser'eu, too, looking small and lonely where she sat on the ground with her back against the wall of the last new tomb.
When I started down, I lost sight of her. I do not believe I saw her again after that; and when at last I reached the city of the dead once more, she was gone. I called her name more than once, and when there was no reply went into it trotting, though I too was tired by then. In the third street (I think it was) I saw a black jackal standing fearlessly in the middle of the street. When it saw that I had seen it, it put down its nose, sniffed something in the street, and fled, vanishing between two tombs. I knelt to examine the place where it had snif
fed, thinking that Myt-ser'eu might have dropped some trinket and that it was her scent on whatever she had let fall that had attracted the jackal.
Dark as it was, I could see nothing; but my fingers found a sticky dust and knew it for fresh blood before I ever raised it to my nostrils. I kept quiet then, and listened. For the time of a hundred breaths, I heard only the soft sigh of the night wind. At last there were sounds to my right. Hinges creaked, the voices of men muttered, and something broke and fell.
Soon I found torn cloth.
They had not tied or gagged her, but a big man with a bandage around his chest stood over her with a soldier's bent club. Two other men had broken into a tomb with an iron-shod crow-lantern light shone through its empty doorway.
The big man came for me fast, although he would have been wiser to wait for his friends. He raised his club, but Falcata took his arm before he could strike. He was dead before it fell.
Myt-ser'eu screamed and two more rushed out of the tomb. One snatched up the heavy crow but fled each time I came at him. The other circled, trying to get behind me with his knife. He was well to my left when a dark figure slipped from between two tombs and seized him. It froze the one who held the crow for an instant. I caught its shaft with my left hand, and Falcata took him between neck and shoulder.
When I looked at the man on my left, he lay dead in the street, and Uraeus stood over him wiping his mouth. "The neck is the best place," Uraeus said. "It's over soon when you get the neck."
I admitted it was true, although Falcata had severed the big man with the club to the waist and he had fallen like a stone.
A leather bag we found in the open tomb held jewelry-some of it Myt-ser'eu's-and a few other things. I would have restored them to the tombs from which the men we had killed had taken them, but we had no means of knowing which they were and no way of repairing their broken doors. Myt-ser'eu searched the bodies of the dead men, recovering her dagger and finding a little gold as well as much silver and copper.
"I claim it all!" She showed us a double handful of coins.
"In that case," I told her, "you get nothing from our bag."
"You'll give me a few pretty things, won't you, Latro?"
"Not a single bead," I said. "It's Uraeus's and mine, all of it."
"Pah!" She drew herself up and spat. "Yours, you mean. Uraeus is your slave, even if you won't tell us where you got him."
"We slaves sometimes have some silver," Uraeus hissed. He sounded angry.
"Only if your master permits it," Myt-ser'eu told him haughtily, "but I am his river-wife and a free woman."
"A dead woman, the moment my master will have it so."
"He would never kill me. You wouldn't, would you, darling? Or rob me, either. As for this," she held out the money again, "you know I'd give it you if you needed it. I fought, too. I stabbed the big one. And I-they'd have had to pay three shekels for what they got from me."
In the end we decided to divide everything equally, each of us receiving a third. Uraeus found a pleasant inn near the temple of Ap-uat for Myt-ser'eu and me, and a single daric bought two suppers and a good room at the top, where the air is coolest and purest, and returned silver and coppers to us as well. All this time I was itching to speak to Uraeus alone, but there was no chance of it. He gave me the bag that holds this scroll and fetched one of Myt-ser'eu's bags in which she might stow her share of our loot, then returned to the ship to eat and sleep. He will rejoin us in the morning.
Now she is in bed and teases me about writing so long. But I must tell other things before I sleep. The first is that before we divided what we had won the innkeeper came to ask whether we had heard about the bodies in the city of the dead. Of course I said that I had not, and Myt-ser'eu that there must be countless bodies there to be found by anyone.
"Three men who had been killed tonight," the innkeeper said. "Two with sword cuts too deep for any man alive to give-this is what I was told-and one bitten by a cobra. No one seems to know what happened."
"Nobody but me," Myt-ser'eu told him haughtily, "and any other silly girl you'd never listen to. The third man killed the first two, then he was bitten and died himself."
The innkeeper shook his head. "Didn't you hear me? No man could have made those cuts. They say even an ax couldn't have done it. Besides, he had no sword."
A new customer carried over his bowl of beer. "Tell them about the dog. Go ahead. Spoil their supper."
"It was a jackal, not a dog," the innkeeper told us. "It yipped the way jackals do, and when they got there it had pissed on all three of the bodies. What do you think of that?"
She is getting up. I will remember and write in the morning. *These daggers were thus in the shape of an ankh, or Egyptian cross, the hieroglyph for "life"; it presumably meant that the dagger would preserve the life of its owner. A lanyard may have been tied to such daggers so they would not be lost if dropped.
15
THE SCARAB
THE NECKLACE, THE ivory ring, and the silver ring are all very attractive. Myt-ser'eu will try to get me to give them to her, I know. She is trying on the necklace now and admiring herself in the mirror she bought. I may trade them to her or sell them to her cheaply, but I will not trade or sell this scarab. It is a beetle of gold and sea-blue enamel, a beetle with gleaming wings. Last night when I breathed on it by chance its wings seemed to move. That cannot be-they are silver, I think. Yet it seemed to me I saw them move. It is like the ankh, a sign of Khepri. He is the eldest god, she says. The rest are his children, men and women his grandchildren many times removed. The ankh is his because he gives life, the scarab because the morning sun is one of his signs. A bright beetle would not suggest sunrise to me, but I am not of Kemet. Myt-ser'eu says letters are sealed with these scarabs to attest to truth within-this is indeed picture writing here on the belly of mine, and a tiny ankh-and scarabs are laid over the hearts of the dead before their bodies are wrapped. In this way a dead woman is assured that the living wish her life and will attend to whatever omens she may send. URAEUS SAYS SCARABS are most sacred and may not be killed, and that I should not toy with mine. I did not toy with it just now-only hold it up to the light. It is very beautiful, the work of a great, great craftsman.
Uraeus joined us at the inn. I bought a black lamb, which he and Myt-ser'eu said I must do, and my men and I drove it to the temple of the wolf-headed god. The priest in the leopard skin was pleased and smiled upon us. I hope the god smiled as well.
The wind has returned, a strong north wind that bends every palm and stirs up dust in the red land. Muslak swears we will make Wast by nightfall, but Azibaal doubts we can sail so far in a single day. QANJU SUMMONED ME. He and Thotmaktef had been working under a sailcloth shade the Crimson Men put up. What they said was important if I am indeed the hero, as they insist. I will write down every word I recall.
"I have neglected you, Lucius," Qanju told me. "We have had no need of your eight, and it appeared to me that you were managing them as well as anyone could. You understand, I'm sure. One attends to the matters that require it, and in doing so one may neglect the matters in which all is well." He smiled as he said these things. He smiles much, the smile of a wise man who adjusts the quarrels of children.
I said that I had not been conscious of his neglect, and that I would have called on him or Thotmaktef if I had required their help.
"Exactly. Now we require yours and call on you. Will you give it?"
Of course I said I would. Myt-ser'eu had told me that the ruler of Kemet had put Qanju in command of everyone on this ship.
Thotmaktef said, "That is well. You forget, I know, but you may not have forgotten this. Has the local god Ap-uat a reason to favor you?"
"Certainly," I said. "I bought a black lamb this morning and offered it for myself and my men, explaining that I was in charge of them and asking that I be given the power of memory others have, and that we might win every fight."
Qanju nodded. "No reason but that?"
I shook
my head.
Thotmaktef said, "I have never been to your city, but I have heard that the wolf is honored there."
"No doubt it is," I told him. "The wolf is an animal that should be honored. This Ap-uat is a man with a wolf's head. Pictures of him were shown to us in his temple this morning."
Thotmaktef nodded. "I knew it already, but I saw them too. The big one in which he is shown with Anubis wrapping the mummy of a dead general is very fine."
That surprised me and I said so, adding that I had not seen him there. "I forget," I said, "but not as quickly as that."
"Neither did I see you. Shall I tell him more, Noble Qanju?"
Qanju said he should, smiling as he had before.
"The chief priest of that temple sent a lesser priest to us, asking that the Noble Qanju come to him. This priest did not know what the chief priest wanted. Or perhaps he did, but if he did, he would not reveal it. In any event, the Noble Qanju asked me to return to the temple with him to find out. I myself am a priest, a priest of the temple of Thoth in Mennufer. Perhaps you remember that, Latro?"
I shook my head.
"It is so. I was taken to the chief priest and explained, adding that the Noble Qanju certainly would not come now, as the wind was rising and he was eager to put out. The chief priest then gave me this." Thotmaktef held up a small scroll and coughed apologetically. "It fell from a rack in the House of Life this morning. There are scribes there, as in every House of Life. Perhaps you know. None of them had ever examined it, or so he told me."
I shrugged. "No doubt there are many scrolls there."
"Nothing like as many as we have in Mennufer. He described you, calling you Latro. I explained that you were in command of our soldiers, and that you were a good and a brave man."
Qanju nodded and smiled. "The chief priest then asked Thotmaktef the same question I asked you a moment ago. In reply Thotmaktef relayed to him what Captain Muslak had told him of your city."