Stealing Fire

by Jo Graham

  “Tehwaz, you have not lied to me! You are a man of truthfulness! It is true that I have not seen a finer three-year-old in the world!”

  The one they had called Ptolemy laughed. “You have added talents to the purchase price now! You will not have seen a more expensive three-year-old in the whole world!”

  The other men laughed, and Hephaistion swung down, pausing to pet Ghost Dancer affectionately. “I know a prize when I see one, and I'm prepared to pay what he's worth.”

  “Then come and let us discuss it over watered wine,” Tehwaz said, and I could see that he was certain of the best sale of his career. “That horse is like my own son, and he is fit indeed for Hipparch and Companion. Jio, cool him down and tend to him.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, and took Ghost Dancer's rein. I felt sick. I knew he would buy him, this tall young soldier. I knew it. Of course he would. Any man would. And he would not mistreat him, but I should be parted from him forever.

  The other men followed them in. “Are you staying another day?” one asked the one they had called Ptolemy.

  He shook his head. “No, just Nicanor is staying with Nearchus. The rest of us are back to the King tonight, only Hephaistion had to go see this peerless horse first!” He threw up his hands as though this were some joke of long standing. “So now we will be late on the road and riding through the night, like as not.” They went in, and the door closed behind them.

  In that moment, I knew what I would do.

  IT WAS NEARLY dawn before I caught up with the column. After all, they were mounted and I was not, and they had not stopped to make camp until very late, riding on into the night under the bright moon.

  I had slipped out as soon as I thought the household safely abed, Tehwaz snoring softly after drinking a great deal of wine to celebrate the largest sale of his career. Ghost Dancer had brought him nearly enough to buy a galley instead of a horse, enough to retire as he had desired. I thought it more than enough to cover my price as well. If he guessed where I had gone, he would not care enough to chase after, not and risk displeasing the so generous Macedonian lord. Hephaistion son of Amyntor had spent a king's ransom on a horse.

  They were not hard to follow. There were few on the Royal Road this late, and no other group of mounted men. I was grateful that they had walked the horses most of the way, but even so the stars were beginning to pale and the morning coming before I caught up with them. I did not realize I had finally come upon them, except that I heard Ghost Dancer's nicker. I was upwind from him, and my scent had come to him on the breeze. As I came over the hill I saw them, the picket lines downwind of the camp among the trees, saw his white blaze as his head went up among the drowsing other horses and he called out to me.

  I forced my tired legs to run. I must reach him before he woke the whole camp. A few other heads came up as I passed.

  But Ghost Dancer would not be silenced. He had not liked this at all, being away from me, and now it was remedied. He bugled out joyfully his greeting, backing up with his legs braced and tearing up the stake that he was tied to before I even reached his side.

  At that they were all in arms in a flash.

  One man held a knife to my throat, his arm like steel around me. I knew better than to struggle. Another was shouting, and there was a great deal of shoving back and forth.

  At last a man I had seen earlier pushed through, the one they had called Ptolemy. “What's going on here?”

  “We caught a horse thief in the picket lines, sir,” a man replied.

  “It's a funny horse thief that makes so much noise,” Ptolemy observed.

  Hephaistion angled his way between men, a torch in his hand, his hair still tousled from sleep. I did not struggle as the light fell on my face. “Great Lord, please hear me!” I asked in Greek.

  His eyebrows rose. “Surely this is Tehwaz's stable boy,” he said.

  Behind me, Ghost Dancer was kicking up a fuss. I could hear a groom swearing as he tried to keep hold of him.

  “I am, Great Lord,” I said. “I have been with Ghost Dancer since he was foaled, and I have followed to ask you if you will take me on as your stable boy. I swear to you that I will work twice as hard for you as for Tehwaz! I will work all day and all night.”

  Hephaistion scratched his head, his eyes on mine. I willed him to believe me. How could I possibly have hoped to make off with Ghost Dancer? He was too valuable to lose, and anyone would recognize him on sight.

  “I have helped train him, and I can do everything needful,” I said. “I do not want to be parted from him. Please.”

  Hephaistion put his head to the side. “Are you a runaway slave?”

  “I am a freeborn orphan,” I lied. “I worked for Tehwaz because I had nowhere else to go when my father died. That is how I speak Greek. We always spoke it at home.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Fifteen,” I said. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat.

  “What's your name?”

  “Lydias, Great Lord,” I said. Surely he would not ask my name if he meant to kill me for a horse thief.

  “Lydias?” Ptolemy said, and I remembered he had been there when Tehwaz called me Jio. He must be a man of quick mind to remember.

  “Lydias,” I said decisively. “Tehwaz did not want to call me by my Greek name.” In fact he had never heard it, as I had made it up.

  Hephaistion gestured to the man who held me and I felt the arm around me release. “Well, Lydias of Miletus, I suppose I can afford to pay another man, since we've just sacked most of Ionia. You'll draw a groom's wages, and I expect you to care for other horses as well as Ghost Dancer. I have four others, and you will do the low work for all, until you have proven yourself.”

  “Yes, Great Lord,” I said, and began to prostrate myself.

  “None of that,” he said, catching at my arm. “Yes, sir, will suffice. We don't bow and scrape in the army, even to the King.”

  “Yes… sir.” I swallowed “Great Lord” in my throat before it came out.

  He clapped me on the shoulder, exchanging an amused look with Ptolemy. “Well enough then. Welcome to the King's service, Lydias of Miletus.” And so I was reborn.

  ASHES

  The King lay dead in the care of the embalmers, dead three weeks, and yet I lived.

  We left Babylon by night, under Ishtar's horned moon. I did not care where I went. One place was as good as another, but I had orders.

  We mounted up in one of the palace courtyards. It was after midnight, but the lights from the great temples still showed. Glaukos, one of my men, sidled over as I adjusted the pad across my horse's back. “Are you sure this is right?” he asked, jerking his chin at the darkened windows of the palace.

  I shrugged, tugging on my bag to make sure the strap held. “General Ptolemy's as much right to order us someplace as anybody else. He's one of the Regents, isn't he?”

  Glaukos nodded, still chewing on his lip beneath his helmet. “It doesn't seem right,” he said.

  “Nothing does.” I turned and met his eyes. “Look, man. The King is dead, and that's how it is. The fornicating Regents are all going to kill each other. Somebody's already knocked off Queen Stateira, and everybody's just waiting to see if Roxane will drop a son. If she does, well and good. The Regents will only kill each other. If it's a daughter, then it's war. And if you hadn't noticed, we're sitting on about twenty million Persians who'd like to be rid of the lot of us. This is not good!”

  He opened his mouth and then shut it again.

  I lowered my voice and spoke to him close. “Now, nobody's saying you have to have a head for politics. We follow orders, and Ptolemy's still giving orders that make sense. We're the fucking cavalry, Hephaistion's Ile with his name for all eternity, and we do what we're told. Ptolemy's made Satrap of Egypt, and how do you think he's to do that without a single man actually in Egypt? Our job is to seize the fortress at Pelousion and hold it for him. And if it gets us out of Babylon, well and good.”

  “How
we going to seize a fortress with sixty men?” Glaukos wanted to know, his chin forward stubbornly.

  I didn't blink. “That's for me to figure out, isn't it? Seeing as how I'm the Hipparch and you aren't.”

  “And better you than me,” he said, but he set about making ready again.

  I heard a noise and looked up at the portico, but it was only Ptolemy coming down, a couple of people with him. His head was bare, but he wore full harness. Everyone wore full harness now, even in the palace, even to sleep.

  “Ready?”

  I nodded, my voice low. “Ready, sir. We'll be out the gates before anyone has a chance to ask questions.”

  He handed me a pair of scrolls. “Good. Here's the letters for the governor at Gaza and for Artamenes at Pelousion. I don't know if he'll yield, but we got on well before. If he does, don't challenge his authority about anything civilian.” Ptolemy stopped and ran a hand through his damp hair. His hairline was already receding a bit. “You must do what you think best after a point, Lydias. I don't know what the situation is. The word of the King's death can't have reached them more than a few days ago. You'll be riding on the tails of the news.”

  I put the scrolls in my bag. “And you'll be behind us.”

  His eyes met mine for a moment. “I hope so,” he said.

  I nodded.

  “But not until Roxane is delivered at least,” he said. “Three more months. And then…” Ptolemy let his voice trail off. There was no point in discussing something so far away, so shrouded in blood.

  “We'll hold Pelousion for you,” I said, for want of something to say.

  Ptolemy looked about. “I have something for you to take with you as well,” he said, and one of the cloaked figures with him stepped forward. Under the dark cloth I saw her eyes, Thais the Athenian, the hetaira who had traveled with Ptolemy for ten years now, since they had crossed into Asia.

  I must have looked surprised, because she said quickly, “I can ride, Hipparch. How do you think I've kept up all these years?”

  “I'm sure you can,” I said.

  Her cloak moved, and I saw the child standing beside her, so close that one cloak covered them both. She held a second in her arms, sleeping against her shoulder.

  I opened my mouth and shut it again.

  Ptolemy's voice was low. “I am entrusting Thais and our children to you, Lydias. Convey them to Pelousion.”

  “We have no litters or wagons,” I said. “General…”

  Ptolemy's eyes flickered to Thais. “Thais can ride,” he said. “And if you take Chloe up before you, you will not lose speed. She won't be afraid. Thais can wear Lagos in a sling against her. That's what she's always done.”

  I nodded sharply.

  “Thank you, Hipparch,” Thais said in her rich voice. “We will not delay your business. I promise you that.”

  I mumbled some pleasantry or other and stowed the last of the things in my bag, conscious that behind me Ptolemy had knelt beside the child, who had thrown her arms around his neck while he spoke softly in her ear. He stood up, lifting her, a little girl seven years old or so, almost a bundle in her dark cloak.

  Thais bent her head toward his, and I caught his words as he straightened. “I'll see you soon in Pelousion, dove,” I heard him promise, and I heard the catch in his voice and knew he expected to die.

  I ground my teeth together and swung onto my horse's back. “Ile, mount!”

  There was the bustle of everyone getting up, the rattle of lances, one trooper holding the bridle while Thais mounted, surprisingly nimble.

  Ptolemy handed the younger child up to her, and I caught a glimpse of his sleeping face, a boy perhaps a year and a half old, wrapped tight in a sling that would hold him against his mother's body. Then he helped the little girl up before me. “Hold on right there,” he said, putting her fingers where they should be. “Just like you do for me. The Hipparch Lydias won't let you fall.”

  “The Hipparch Lydias hopes not,” I said, wondering how in Chaos I was supposed to hold on to her if I had to use my sword. Still, it should not come to swords at the gate.

  “Good fortune,” Ptolemy said, and I touched my heels to my horse.

  The streets of Babylon were broad and empty. We rode in loose order, Thais behind me and in the center. The baby was not visible at all beneath her cloak, bound to her in the cloth sling. She seemed at least to be able to ride at a walk. Sati had never ridden. She was afraid of horses…

  I pulled myself away from that thought. “When we get to the gates, boys, I'll do the talking. But if they try to stop us, don't engage. Just push straight through. They're not mounted, and they won't catch us.”

  I saw the nods, Glaukos passing the word back.

  Before me, the child sat very straight, her body swaying a little with the gait, relaxing into my chest. It went without saying her father was desperate. He must see nothing but death for her in Babylon.

  “If we have to run, I need you to hang on tight,” I said, and she nodded. I could not see her face.

  “I'll hold on,” she said, and there was no tremor in her voice.

  The guards challenged us.

  “Hephaistion's Ile of Companion Cavalry,” I replied, “on the orders of the Regents.”

  “We've had no orders,” the officer of the watch said. The gates were open, but there were ten or twelve men on duty.

  “Well, I have!” I said arrogantly. “We're Companions, man. People actually tell us things.”

  The officer bristled, but he didn't draw as we approached. “General Perdiccas said no couriers were to leave without his permission.”

  “Do I look like a fornicating courier?” I sneered at him. “I don't need General Perdiccas’ permission. I told you, the Regents sent us.” I raised my left hand, the reins in my right about the child. “Forward!” I touched my heels to her flanks.

  We surged forward through the gates, Thais and all, several of the guards dodging to get out of our way with oaths and curses.

  The Royal Road was empty ahead of us at this time of night. “Forward!” I shouted. “Put some distance between us!”

  Archers could fire from the gatehouse, of course, or the towers, but if we were fast we'd be out of range before they were ready. I did not hear the song of a single bow as we cantered, the wind rushing past us, falling into the familiar wedge out of habit with me at the point. The child's hood fell back and her dark hair tangled in the wind, my arm tight around her, leaving Babylon behind.

  Above, the stars shone down and the Royal Road was a ribbon of light before us, leading us west. Somewhere, days and weeks ahead, was the sea, was the desert that guarded Egypt. Under Ishtar's stars we flew.

  WE FOLLOWED THE Royal Road westward through plains and hills, a company moving quickly from one waystation to another. A courier could have overtaken us, changing mounts frequently, but none did. Perdiccas did not care so very much about sixty men. Either that, or he did not see the value of challenging Ptolemy openly for such a little thing.

  Or perhaps, I thought on the twelfth day as we crested a rise and looked ahead at the descent, it would suit him well for Ptolemy himself to leave for Egypt. The fewer generals who remained in Babylon, the fewer there would be to challenge him.

  Never before had such a great prize been so lightly held. Alexander's empire stretched across half the world, from the Adriatic Sea to the cities of India, uncounted millions of people, uncountable wealth. No one had thought the King would die. After all, he had survived battle after battle, and he was only thirty-two years old. Who would have supposed that he would die of a simple fever?

  Or perhaps it was not so simple. Poison, murder… Whispers became rumors in the last days in Babylon. Too many people had too much to gain. His only child lay still in the womb, and the Regent for an unborn prince had many years ahead of wielding absolute power before the boy's majority could even be thought of.

  Who could ever know, I thought. Even I, who was there, even I who fought beside his own b
ier as Companion turned on Companion for control of Alexander's corpse, did not really know anything beyond rumor and innuendo.

  It was said that in the King's last hours he had named General Krateros his heir, but Krateros was halfway to Macedon, leading the veterans home who had been promised retirement. He had an army, and he would not yield place to Perdiccas easily. I did not dislike him, precisely, but he had had much to say in the past about the half-breed children of Macedonians and campaign wives that I did not like. It was the same as calling my son bastard, and that I would not take, even though my son was dead.

  In Macedon itself, the King had left Antipatros as Regent, an old man who had faithfully served the King's father before him. I had never met him and knew little of him, other than that he was said to be a skillful and true man, though quite advanced in age. His son, Cassander, I did know and disliked heartily. He beat his horses, sometimes for no flaw at all but merely in temper. One hears things as a groom, and one sees things one's betters bother to hide from their peers. I had come up from those days, but I had not forgotten. A man who treats his horses cruelly will treat men cruelly if the opportunity comes, and will treat women and eunuchs the same as his horses without a thought. If backing Antipatros meant siding with Cassander, I should rather be elsewhere.

  Perdiccas himself had much to recommend him. He had been of the party not tied to the old ways of Macedon, willing to learn as much as take from the peoples we had encountered. I could not explain precisely what there was to dislike in him. He was courteous, a reasonably good officer, and now he championed the cause of Alexander's unborn child. If he were ruthless, what is that in a soldier? And what use to say that Hephaistion would have been better? Hephaistion was dead.