Close Up the Sky

by James L. Ferrell

  "What are these?" He held up one of the packets. "They appear to be metal, yet they are soft."

  "They contain special food made by my people." He took one of the packets and tore off the top, revealing dehydrated fruit. He held it out so Tarel could see the contents. "You mix this with a small amount of water and it will be good to eat."

  Tarel nodded.

  Matt folded the top of the packet down and put it back with the others. The two sat in silence for a few minutes while Tarel considered the bargain. At last he said, "The trip to Thebes is long, and I will miss many fish while I am gone. As I said, I must take care of my family. I will trade for the food, but it is not enough profit for such a trip. I have no use for these other things. Do you have anything else?"

  Matt waited a long moment before answering. He was reluctant to do it, but he reached under the robe and took off the utility belt. He removed the two spare pistol magazines and the pager from their pockets and kept them in his hand. He then emptied the rest of the items out onto the ground along with those from the pack. There was some aspirin, water purification pills, folding knife, and other miscellaneous objects that would be of no use to a person of Tarel's time period. Most of the items did not interest the fisherman, but when he saw the knife his eyes widened. Matt opened the folding blade and handed the knife to him hilt first. He ran his thumb over the edge of the blade and drew blood. He nodded, apparently satisfied that he was about to make a good deal.

  "I will trade for the food and the knife," he offered.

  "It is done," Matt replied. He picked up the other things and put them in the pack, including the empty utility belt.

  Without speaking, Tarel picked up the food packets and stood. He slipped the knife into the waist of his loincloth and walked the short distance to the village where he disappeared among the houses. While he was gone Matt put the pistol magazines and pager in his pocket and sealed it shut with the Velcro catch. He then went over to the river and threw the pack as far as he could into the water. The current picked it up and carried it slowly downstream. It floated for a few seconds before sinking. He sighed deeply as he watched it vanish beneath the water. Another tie to the twenty-first century was gone.

  Fifteen minutes later Tarel returned carrying a basket. "Come," he said, and walked to the boat.

  True to his character, Nessif had deserted his men and fled in terror from the battle with the giant. Even now their death screams echoed in his head. He had cowered in a gully almost a mile away from the scene until well after dawn. During the night he imagined he could hear the monster's heavy breathing as it searched for his hiding place. A fleeting pang of conscience assailed him as he thought of his cowardice. But what else could he have done? Did not the deaths of his warriors prove that ordinary men could not withstand the strength of the monster? Even the powerful new weapon he had taken from the stranger had been ineffective against him. After all, it would have been pointless for the chief of the Morruk tribe to die with the others. Someone had to survive to carry word back to the people. There was no logical reason for giving up his life so cheaply when his tribe needed his leadership. That line of reasoning assuaged what little reproach he had given himself and he put the episode out of his thoughts.

  When the first light of dawn came he had examined the pistol. It was broken, and no matter how many times he pulled the trigger nothing happened. He had no way of knowing that he had expended all the ammunition during the battle, causing the slide to lock back against the top of the empty magazine. He thought of throwing the gun away, but reconsidered. It was still the most formidable weapon he had ever seen, and if the stranger was still alive he might be able to persuade him to repair it. He laughed softly as he thought of the methods he would employ, but then his expression grew serious. Any plan he might make was contingent on whether or not the giant had departed the area; that was his immediate concern.

  When he mustered sufficient courage he left the gully and crept back to the fire pit. He avoided looking at the bodies of his men. He checked the pit and was astonished to find the stranger gone. Huge footprints led from the ashes to some boulders a short distance away. He followed them to where they terminated and examined the ground. The dirt had been disturbed where someone had lain. He saw that the big footprints led away into the desert, but another trail of smaller prints, possibly those of the stranger, led back to the scene of the massacre. He followed them and saw that they circled around the area in a definite pattern. It appeared as though the man was searching for something. Nessif scratched his head and continued to follow the trail. Eventually it led to the foot of the hill where he found a small silver packet wadded up on the ground between two boulders. He recognized it as one of those they had dumped from the stranger’s pack the night before. He picked up the foil wrapper and sniffed. Food.

  When he saw that the trail led away from the boulders toward the great river, he smiled and fell into a steady trot in pursuit of his prey. The man’s speed was slow, so it would not be difficult to overtake him. Somewhere along the way he would have to find a weapon, and when he caught up with the black-suited foreigner he would finish the job the giant had interrupted. Of course, that could wait until after he forced him to repair the weapon. He increased his speed as the terrain broke into open ground. As he ran he thought fleetingly of his men, but did not bother to look back at the place where they had fought and died for him. Failing to look behind him would become the greatest mistake of his despicable life.

  Matt had never seen a more beautiful and fascinating country. The fertile belts along the banks of the Nile were in direct contrast to the burning waste of the desert. Trees, green brush, and fields of golden grain grew in profusion on both sides of the river. The shore was thick with bulrushes, and crocodiles lay dozing in the sun on the muddy banks. Occasionally, a flock of white birds would take flight in a thunderous flapping of wings as their boat passed. He recognized their species from their white coloring and large curved beaks as the sacred ibis of the pharaohs. Sometimes the river would be so wide that he could barely make out people and animals on the shores, but at other times they would glide through narrow channels that had broken away from the main river only to rejoin it a mile or two further along. Once or twice during those times he caught a glimpse of someone running along the shore just beyond the tree line. He thought there was something familiar about the darting figure, but whatever it was eluded him.

  He and Tarel talked frequently during the trip. From him he learned that three strangers had previously entered the village and chartered a boat to take them to Thebes. One of them had been a woman. Tarel had not seen them personally, but many of the villagers told him of the woman's great beauty and believed she may have been a goddess in human form. Matt's heart quickened when he heard the report. It left no doubt in his mind that Taylor and the rest of his team were less than a day ahead of him.

  He knew they intended to make their headquarters with an Egyptian named Sut, from whose voice he had learned much of the language during his training at Apache Point. Once he reached Thebes it should be a simple matter of asking questions until he found someone who knew the location of Sut's house. With any luck he should be able to rejoin his team in a matter of hours. From there they would branch out in search of Edward, hoping that by finding him they would also find the missing stellarite. Locating his brother would also answer many puzzling questions about the dead time travel agents. Then there was Taylor. The thought of holding her again gave him an airy feeling, and he could almost smell the sweetness of her hair and skin. He settled back and continued his conversation with Tarel as he watched the scenery drift by.

  It was late afternoon when they spotted the city. Matt watched it grow larger as they progressed along the river. The sunlight cast a yellow sheen over the buildings and made them glow the color of fresh butter. It made him think of a story he had once read about a hidden valley in the wilds of Arizona that boasted cliffs of pure gold. Many had searched for it, but if
anyone had ever found it they never returned to reveal its location. He knew that a similar fate might befall him, but whatever awaited him in the golden city of Thebes, he would never forget this magical vista.

  Within a half hour they reached the quays. Tarel steered out of the main channel and guided the boat alongside one of the wooden jetties where he dropped the sail and tied up to a piling. Once out of the boat, he extended his hand and helped Matt out. A large number of other boats were docked there, and dozens of men worked around them loading and unloading cargo. The city itself was enormous compared to the villages they had passed along the way. Brown brick buildings started near the docks and stretched away into the distance as far as Matt could see. Many were one-story structures, but others had as many as three or four levels. Walls over thirty feet high ran along the river in both directions, and a massive portal marked the entrance to the city. Egyptian artists had painted humans with ibis heads on its stonework, and two colossal statues of a seated Ramses flanked its sides. The benevolent stone faces of the twin kings looked down on all who passed into Thebes through the gates. Egyptian soldiers armed with spears stood guard near the entrance, watching the merchants and sailors who moved about the quays.

  Tarel reached out and laid his hand on Matt’s shoulder. In the other hand he held the basket he had brought with them from his village. He offered it to Matt. "I know you are a stranger here," he said. "Take the rest of the food. Sometimes it is difficult to find a friend in such a large city."

  The simple gesture touched Matt. "But you will have nothing for the return trip," he objected. Tarel was the first person to show him friendship since his arrival in Egypt, and he hated to see him leave.

  Tarel smiled and nodded toward the river. "I am a fisherman," he replied. "The Nile is my food basket."

  Matt took the gift and gripped Tarel's arm. "Thank you, my friend. If I had something to offer in return, I would gladly give it."

  "You have given enough," the old man replied. "May the gods favor you in your quest." He got into his boat and pushed off. Matt watched him steer into the current and raise the sail. A gentle land breeze filled it and pulled the boat further into the river. He continued to watch it until it was only a speck on the water.

  At last he turned his attention to the basket. It contained a pone of dark bread and several dried fish. Near the bottom was a polished copper knife that Tarel had carried in his waistband. Matt knew the old man had not left it in the basket by mistake. It was his simple way of telling Matt that he wished him a safe journey. He removed the knife, raised one side of his robe, and slipped it into a pocket of the L-suit. He smiled and glanced once more at the river, but Tarel and his boat were gone. He let out a long breath, then turned and began walking toward the city gate.

  Wagons and carts pulled by oxen carried freight through the great portal in both directions. Drivers flicked their whips in the air and called out commands to the straining beasts. Stinging insects and flies swarmed around them in profusion, biting the men as well as the animals. Matt took up a position near one of the carts and walked along beside it. He tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, but as they neared the gate he saw the soldiers eyeing him with suspicion. One of them stepped out and shouted to him.

  “You!”

  Matt kept walking, pretending not to hear, but the ploy failed to work. He had not even entered the city and already there was trouble. Two more soldiers joined the first one, and now all three were coming at him.

  “I said you!” A burly hand reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his robe. The soldier jerked him around so that they stood face-to-face. Matt saw that the man was powerfully muscled and wore a menacing expression. He pulled loose from his grip, but kept his composure. The soldier snatched the basket from his hand, rummaged through it, and tossed it to the ground. The other two brought their spears into thrusting position, their dark eyes intense, alert for any sign of treachery. “I saw you slip something under your robe,” the first one said. “Who are you and what's that strange black clothing you have on under there?” He had apparently seen the leg of the L-suit.

  Matt straightened his garment and smoothed the wrinkles where the soldier had grabbed it. He put an insulted expression on his face and gazed coolly at them. Though he gave no outward sign of nervousness his brain was working like a computer, trying to think of an acceptable answer. He decided to stall for time by confusing them. “I’m a time traveler you uncouth lout,” he said in English, “and if you screw around with me I might blow your balls off. Only right now I don’t have anything to blow them off with, so I guess I’ll have to think of some smart answer to give you so you’ll go back to picking your nose and let me go about my business.”

  The soldiers’ mouths fell open. They looked at each other then back at Matt. “What was that?” one of them asked. "What language are you speaking?"

  A plan suddenly struck him. “Forgive me, sir,” he said in Egyptian. His cool expression changed into a more humble one. “I am a merchant from Troy. I was robbed yesterday and all my possessions were stolen except for the basket of food, which was given to me by the boatman who brought me down the river to find my friend, Sut. He lives here in Thebes. If I do not find him soon I will have to spend the night in the streets. Could you direct me to his house?” He was getting into the act now. He placed his hand over his heart and let out an exhausted breath.

  “I never heard of anyone named Sut,” the soldier spat. “And for that matter, how do we know you’re a merchant? I never heard any language like you used before. What was it?”

  “It was American, sir. America is a small province near the northern border of Oz, which is near Kansas. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Almost everyone has. That is, people of refinement have heard of it. I knew you were men of distinction as soon as I saw you. Naturally I assumed you would understand the American language. I'm sorry if I offended you.” He shrugged and held his arms out, palms up.

  The soldiers looked nonplussed. They glanced at each other as though uncertain about what to do. Finally, the one who seemed to be in charge said, “Of course we’ve heard of the place. But we don’t have time to talk about that now. What kind of garment is that I saw underneath your robe?"

  Matt feigned surprise. His eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened. "Why, it's an L-suit. I thought everyone knew about the garments my people wear." He pulled up the robe and let them look at it. "You probably saw some of my friends wearing the same thing pass through here a short time ago, possibly this morning?"

  One of the soldiers reached out to touch the L-suit, but Matt dropped the robe before he could do it. "How do we know you're from Troy?" he demanded. "We're posted here to watch for spies, and you look and talk suspiciously."

  "I told you I was robbed. If you don't believe me you'll just have to help me find my friends. They can vouch for me." Sweat was beginning to form on his forehead.

  It was fortuitous for Matt that at that moment a comely girl arrived with food for the soldiers. She carried a large basket and a drinking skin. The men quickly lost interest in Matt. One of them took the skin, lifted it above his head, and spurted some of the liquid into his mouth. Matt knew it was wine from the smell. "Save some for me!" the second soldier demanded while the third one began rummaging through the food basket.

  Matt decided to gamble. If he could irritate them, they might send him on his way just to get rid of him. "What about me?" he pleaded. "If you’re not going to help me find my friends the least you could do is share some of your wine with me."

  The apparent leader of the three took a step toward him, a menacing look on his face. "We don't have to help you do anything! Get moving and don’t cause any more trouble or things will go hard for you. Next time we won't be so lenient.”

  "I apologize for all my faults," Matt replied in a contrite voice. He bowed slightly and turned away. He passed through the portal and was soon out of sight of the soldiers. The narrow street inside the city was crowded with people. H
e walked slowly, with no idea about where he was going. As he walked he busied himself by browsing through some of the booths the merchants had set up along the sides of the street. Frequent attempts to ascertain the location of Sut's home by questioning the merchants failed miserably. No one seemed to have heard of the man. He stayed alert for any sign of his team, but as yet he had developed no real plan that might aid in finding them. So far his only course of action had been to wander around hoping to spot something that would give him a clue as to their whereabouts. He knew the odds against spotting them at random were enormous, and decided that if he was to find them he would have to do something to attract their attention. And it had to be something very visible. He was unaware that at that very moment a highly visible incident involving him was about to occur.

  A sudden turmoil erupted in the crowd somewhere behind him. He turned to look and saw people milling about and shouting, but he could not discern the cause of the commotion. A noise like a table of clay jars crashing to the ground reached his ears over the din. He could hear men shouting, "Get out of the way! Move!" At that moment the crowd parted and he saw the reason for the uproar. The soldiers from the gate were running toward him, pushing and knocking people out of the way as they came. He started to run, then froze as he saw something that made his hackles rise. Following on the heels of the soldiers and urging them on was Nessif Eguic Famaed!

  "I'm going to the palace and try to see the queen," Taylor said to Summerhour and Williams. "If Ramses's soldiers had anything to do with removing the stellarite from the excavation, she'll know about it." She had removed the L-suit and changed into Egyptian clothing soon after they arrived at the house they had rented from Sut. She now wore a lightweight, sleeveless shift with a yellow sash tied beneath her breasts. The garment was white with scarlet edging around the neck. Tiny pleats adorned it from hips to sandals, and a long split ran up the front exposing her legs to mid-thigh. Her dark hair hung down to her shoulders and a thin golden band encircled her head like a crown. She had also applied a light coating of pale red lipstick to accentuate the whiteness of her teeth. Brown contact lenses now effectively masked the emerald eyes.