by Jo Graham
I understood, then, why he had sought out Xandros. And what Xandros had not told me.
I struggled to keep my face bland, and keep the horror I felt from shading my voice. “Your Majesty,” I said, “you do him too much honor. Your beauty must be as blinding to him as that of Isis! Remember he is only a mortal man!”
“I do remember,” she said. “I wring him dry with my hands and he will not rise for hours. I wish he had Osiris’ golden member, so that he might last forever in my power.”
“But Osiris was dead,” I said. “And His manhood was made of metal, not flesh, because Isis could not find all the parts of Him that Set cut apart and cast about the land.”
“And one day Aeneas will be dead as well,” Basetamon said. “And so will I. We are all going to be corpses, waiting for the natron. But he will be as fair on that day as ever. I told him that if he dies first I will keep him embalmed in my room until I die, so that we might lie together in one tomb.”
“You do him too much honor,” I said. “He cannot have ever aspired to your companionship in the next world.” Indeed, I was not certain that he greatly desired it in this one.
“Why not?” she demanded.
“You are as far above him as the sun is above the hills,” I said. “You are the highest-born lady of Egypt. I am sure Aeneas feels that he is unworthy.”
Basetamon flipped her braids back from her long, smooth neck, her beautiful hands restless. “He has the body of a lion. And he is as fair as the desert falcon. He is mine. And I make him worthy. Now prophesy for me, Oracle! Tell me if I will be happy!”
I bent above the brazier, muttering nonsense words, my mind working furiously. I did not think she could ever be happy, because the snakes were within her, not without. She walked in a darkness I could not penetrate.
“Great Lady,” I said in my own mother tongue. “Healer of hearts and minds, in Whose darkness we are all born, walk with the Lady of Egypt and lead her to the fields of peace.”
Basetamon watched me, and the cheetah’s eyes gleamed in the dark.
I looked into the fire.
“What do you see?” she demanded.
If I had been at my own hearth I should have snapped that I saw nothing because she would not be quiet for two breaths. But I was not. And she was the ruler here. I simply took a long breath and exhaled it.
“I see fire,” I said.
“And?” she asked breathlessly.
“I see flames rising,” I said. “Smoke twisting in the air.” From a brazier, I thought. That’s sitting right in front of me. Will she not be quiet if she wants me to see?
“Like a sacrifice at our shared tomb?” she asked.
“Like a sacrifice,” I temporized. “Smoke heavy with precious resins.”
“What else do you see?”
“Wailing mourners,” I said. “Throngs of wailing mourners. Priests and musicians. Even Pharaoh himself.” I had never made up a prophecy out of whole cloth before. But as I spoke I could almost imagine it, Pharaoh standing by in his linen skirt, his face a mask of grief.
“Is he very sad?” Basetamon asked eagerly.
“Terribly,” I said. “His face is stern and stricken. I can see that he suffers.”
Basetamon put her hands together. “That’s wonderful! A sacrifice at our shared tomb! Is it true that in your country you burn the dead?”
“It is,” I said. “We build no such monuments as you do. Instead we build a funeral pyre.”
Basetamon shivered. “How grotesque! Do you actually watch them burn?”
“We sing,” I said, “and praise the dead. We offer libations and incense. And then we dance.”
Basetamon shook her head. “How bizarre! But poor Aeneas will never endure that. He will lie beside me forever.” Rising, she thrust a bag into my hand. “You have done me a great service, Oracle! You have my thanks!” The princess stood, her linen robes flaring around her. “Now go! And go to Sais with my blessing!”
“Your Majesty,” I said, seeing suddenly a door opening, “will you not come to Sais as well? Will you not bring Prince Aeneas so that he may do deeds of valor for you? To be worthy of you he must be great in war, the desert falcon you have named him. Let him demonstrate to all that he is worthy of the honors you have given him.”
She turned. “Really?”
“Really, My Lady,” I said. “I know he feels unworthy of you, as I have said. Please grant his pride the chance to do deeds of valor in your name that may be inscribed on the walls of your tomb for all eternity!”
Basetamon smiled. “He would do this for me?”
“Only for you, Your Majesty,” I said.
“Then we will go,” she said. “We will go to Sais.” Reaching beneath the cushions she pulled yet another bag out and pressed it into my hands. “Take these and use them well.”
I looked inside. One bag was filled with myrrh and the other with frankincense, enough to burn a king. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” I said. Valuable as it was, I took it with a shiver and could not help but feel it an ill omen.
WE SAILED for Sais. Neas did not go on Seven Sisters, but on the great barge belonging to Basetamon. He did indeed go to Sais at her side.
It was a pleasant journey. Our ships were crowded, for our people had accumulated many goods in Memphis, and it was more like moving households than ships of war. But half, I reminded myself, would stay in Sais.
Xandros had spoken with Amynter. Amynter did want to stay in Egypt in Pharaoh’s service. When he heard that Neas would release him from any oaths to him, he was happy indeed, though he loved Neas well.
“My luck is out,” he said to Xandros as we stood on the bow of Dolphin in the evening as we all paused along the bank of the Nile. He shrugged. “A man’s got only so much luck in his life. I’ve used mine on the sea and in war. And I’ve got my boys to think of. It’s time for me to stay. I’ll patrol this summer for Pharaoh, but then I’m leaving the ships. I’m going to get married and be a tradesman instead. It’s not too late to learn a new trick. Let the boys go to war if they want. I’m done.”
Xandros clasped his hand. “I understand. My time isn’t yet, but I understand.”
“Just get out in time,” Amynter said. “I know too many good men who pushed their luck.”
“I’ll remember that,” Xandros said, and smiled.
Maris would go. We thought all in all we should have three ships and a little more than a hundred men, with perhaps twenty women and twenty children in the lot. More of the married men would want to stay.
“So few,” Xandros said, and put his arm around my shoulders. Together we watched the sun setting beyond the walls of the western desert, the river flowing remorselessly northward. We had no privacy, as there were five people in the bow cabin, but that meant that he had less chance of seeing me unclothed. I was wondering how much longer I could say nothing. Even in loose clothing it would become obvious soon. Neas hadn’t noticed, but he was also considerably distracted.
“So few,” I said. “But enough.”
We didn’t speak of it further. It wasn’t time yet.
WE WERE FOUR DAYS in Sais. On the fifth night, a night with no moon, Xandros went round the sentries and the port watch. He told them that we were taking three ships on patrol downriver, as there were rumors of Libyans massing on the bank of the westernmost branch of the Nile as it flowed through the Delta and into the sea. This seemed reasonable enough. Three ships was a patrol. And we had patrolled before.
By night we loaded the ships—all of our people who were going and all of our goods. Rowers bumped into one another in unfamiliar places. Not all of any ships’ company meant to go, and some of Hunter’s and Winged Night’s men wanted to come. So there was confusion in the darkness.
I stood beside Dolphin in the night, helping Tia aboard with sleeping Kianna pressed to her shoulder. Bai swung their bundles up and held the baby while Tia climbed. I smiled at him.
“Do you remember, Lady?” he said quietly. “Wh
en we left Byblos, when she was born?”
“I do,” I said. “I remember how you brought Tia a warm cloak.”
“And the boy,” Bai said. “The one who was lost.”
Both of us looked back up the dock to where Xandros was talking with Amynter, taking his leave.
Aren brushed past them and came up to me. “I’m not going,” he said.
“What?”
“I’m not going,” Aren said. His jaw was set. “I don’t belong there, and I’m not going.”
“Aren...”
“Pythia,” he said, “you know I don’t belong with you. I don’t belong where you’re going.”
“Aren, what will you do? I can’t just leave you here.”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “I am the son of Triotes, and a man. I will stay in Pharaoh’s service.”
I looked at him, thinking of words. I had not thought of any when Xandros came down the dock. “Now,” he said. “Neas is here. He sneaked off from the palace, but he may be missed at any time. We need to go now.”
“Good-bye,” Aren said.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes,” he said, and embraced me. “Good fortune, sister.”
I had always known he walked a path different from mine. “Good fortune, my brother,” I said.
Xandros came aboard and went back to the tiller. It was Bai who reached down for my hand and helped me aboard.
“Good-bye,” I whispered, and this time I knew it was forever.
Aren had already run back down the dock as we put off. Pearl went first, followed by Seven Sisters. Dolphin was last from the dock. We coasted by Winged Night and Hunter, tied up safe at their moorings. The river rocked us gently.
Past the silent docks of fishermen, past the wharves where the grain barges unloaded, we slid along in darkness, the sound of our oars quiet and beating like a heart. There were no shouts of challenge as we slipped past the Egyptian warships at their moorings. Behind me I heard Xandros call a greeting to a sentry, his Khemet smooth and fluid after a year.
“Good hunting!” the sentry called.
“Thanks!” Xandros replied. “We’ll kill some Libyans for you!”
I went aft to stand at the tiller beside him. His hair was unbound and I watched his hands on the tiller, steady and firm. Ahead of us, Seven Sisters left a white wake in the water.
Xandros chuckled softly.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
“I’m thinking that once in a while I’d like to leave a port in broad daylight with nobody after us,” Xandros said.
I nearly laughed. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
Behind us on the broad terraces of the palace there was a sudden flare of fire. Almost at the same time I heard the drums start on Seven Sisters.
“Pick up the beat, Kos!” Xandros shouted. “Time to get moving!”
Our drums picked up, racing ahead.
“Right side skip the stroke!” Xandros yelled, and the right side oars hovered in the air while the left ones dug, turning us into the channel for the westernmost branch of the river, putting us midstream. We bumped a little as we crossed Seven Sisters’ wake. The fire behind us was now obscured by date trees and palms that came down the riverbank. I could still see it faintly through the leaves, but Sais was well behind us.
“Pull!” Xandros yelled. “Keep it up!” He glanced at me. “We’ll keep our best pace for a bit, just to put some distance behind us. I don’t know what that was about. It may be nothing to do with us. But there’s no point in taking a chance.”
I nodded.
Night slid past like the walls of the Delta, tangled trees and undergrowth, reeds taller than my head. When dawn came pink and white over the river, the channel had narrowed to the width of two ships, with shallows on each side, and we slowed. Down the ship Tia and Polyra came out of the forward cabin and began taking skins of beer and loaves of flatbread to the rowers, who ate in turns. Ahead of us, Pearl and Seven Sisters slowed but didn’t stop.
“How far is it to the sea?” I asked.
“A day,” Xandros said. “We’re going as much west as north right now. We’ll come to the sea several days sailing west of Tamiat, the Delta is that broad.”
“And then?”
“North across the sea,” he said, gratefully taking a loaf of bread from Tia and biting into it without leaving the tiller. “That’s where the Shardana live. There are several big islands, they say, and more mainland. They say it snows there, like on the highest mountains at home. And that there are forests so huge that you could walk for a moon without coming to the other side.”
I tried to imagine it. But mostly what I saw was Egypt slipping away, the Black Land passing behind me, becoming the past.
“You didn’t want to leave,” he said.
I shook my head. “No.”
“You didn’t have to come,” Xandros said.
“Yes, I did.” I hardly knew how to begin to explain the reasons to him. But he would probably understand them anyway.
He gave me a sideways smile, his hands busy on the tiller. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Xandros,” I said. “Only you would think to say so.” I perched on the rail beside him. Small as I am, my feet didn’t quite touch the deck.
“All those scrolls. All that forever.” For a moment he sounded almost wistful.
“They will be there,” I said. “If there is one thing I learned in the Black Land, it is that it will not change soon.”
“I thought it was another thing you learned,” he said, cutting his eyes at me to see if I would laugh.
“That too,” I said, and kissed him.
“Never distract the helmsman,” Kos said, coming onto the rear deck. “Xandros, if you’re going to pay no attention, let me take the tiller.”
Xandros gave it over to Kos and sat beside me. Together we watched the sun rise out of the Nile in our wake.
THE PRISON OF THE WINDS
To my astonishment, we had an easy passage. Even though it was early in the year, the sailing season just begun, the seas were calm and the weather was warm. The winds were light and variable, and while they did not hasten us northward, neither did they hinder us.
In twelve days we came in sight of land off to our left, a great mountain rising out of the sea, its heights ringed in smoke and cloud. I stood on deck with Xandros, and we watched the land come nearer while he held a steady course and Kos stood by the sail.
“I would guess it’s the mountain they call the Prison of the Winds,” Xandros said. “The Shardana told me it’s the greatest peak on the island of Scylla.”
“How big is the island?” I wondered. The shore before me seemed to spread and spread.
“Big. As large as the mouths of the Nile, they said. It’s the biggest island.”
“I wish they could have drawn it for you,” I said. “In Egypt they had drawings of the river and of the shores of the sea with names marked upon them and pictures of the inhabitants of all lands.”
Xandros raised an eyebrow. “Did they have a drawing of the islands of the Shardan?”
“They didn’t go that far,” I said. I refrained from saying that they hadn’t seen any reason for them to. Nothing important ever happened in the Shardan lands.
That night we pulled the ships in close to the beach, and sent men ashore. There was no village or settlement nearby, so we took the opportunity to fill our water casks where a stream came down to the sea. Most of the People were glad of the chance to sleep on land, and for the first time in many days Xandros and I had the cabin to ourselves.
I took a great deal of time moving things around and rearranging sacks of food and baggage, while Xandros lay down. It was dark, but I knew he was waiting for me, and when he stretched out a hand and laid it against my back I knew that it was time.
I knelt down beside him. “Xandros,” I said. “There is something I must say.”
His hand stilled on my back. “About Neas? Now that he’s free?”<
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“No,” I said. “No, not that.”
“What, then?” His voice was even, waiting for a different blow.
I knelt in the dark, his hand on my back. “There will be a child,” I said. “In the summer, when Sothis rises.”
“Ah,” he said very softly. Then he rose and went out of the cabin. I heard his feet going down the deck.
After a moment I got up and followed.
Xandros was standing at the stern, leaning against the tiller and looking out over the calm sea. He did not look at me. “You’ve known,” he said. “You’ve known for a long time.”
“Yes,” I said.
“You should have stayed in Egypt,” he said. I could not read his expression.
“I knew you’d say that.”
The waxing moon was rising, making a path of light across the waves. I did not try to touch him.
“I can’t keep you safe,” he said, and his eyes were distant, as they had been after the storm, after Ashterah was lost. “I can’t keep the child safe. I have nothing.”
“I need nothing from you,” I said.
Xandros turned, and his eyes were blazing. “Do you ever need anything from anyone? You sit wrapped in your preternatural calm, like you’re watching us all from far away, like amusing little insects! Don’t you actually need anything? Do you ever actually care?”
“Of course I care,” I shot back. “You of all people should know that.”
“You don’t act like it,” he snapped. “You don’t act like any of us matter to you.”
“You mean I don’t act like I love you,” I said. My hands were shaking now, not with Her presence but with anger.
“No, you don’t!”
“Well, you don’t love me either!” I yelled. “You love Neas, and that’s fine. I understand that. You never pretended that it was me. But if it’s not me, gods take me if I’m going to be the one who cries and chases after you! I don’t need you, and we’ll get along fine without you!”