Soldier of Sidon

Uraeus shook his head. There is something eerie about that, as I wrote earlier.

The scribe rose, wiping his palms on his thighs. "Lucius, will you order your slave to answer my questions?"

"No," I said. "Ask them of me, and I'll ask them of him if I choose."

"All right. There may not be many, and I'll ask this one of you. Will you please, as a favor to me, ask him to go over there under the hatch, where the light's better?"

I did.

"Now will you, as another favor, have him raise his chin?"

"Lift your chin," I told Uraeus. "There can be no harm in letting us see your neck."

He did. When I saw how wrinkled his neck was I knew he was older than I had thought.

"I was looking for a scar." The scribe seemed much more relaxed. "There isn't any."

I agreed.

"You said he'd been down here earlier alone, didn't you? Would you ask him whether he saw the cat-a huge black cat-or the woman down here then?"

I turned to Uraeus. "Did you?"

"No, master."

"Neither one?"

"No, master."

"Thank you," the scribe said. "I thank you both. A loyal slave who will hold his tongue is worth a great deal, Lucius. I congratulate you."

We watched the scribe climb the ladder to the deck, and I motioned for Uraeus to sit again. When we were both seated I said, "You understand that a great deal better than I do, I think. Probably better than Myt-ser'eu does, too. Explain it to me."

"No, master. Less than anyone, I fear. I had not heard of the cat until Thotmaktef mentioned it to us."

"But you had heard of the woman."

"Because I did not say I had not, master? No, no one had spoken of her to me. Do you wish to see her?"

"If you can show her to me."

"Then come, master." He led me to a bundle as long as I am high, a box wrapped in canvas and tied with rope. "She is in here, Master."

"Perhaps we shouldn't untie that," I said. "It doesn't belong to us, and there can't be a woman inside."

"I will not untie it, master." Uraeus looked up at me. I doubt that he ever smiles, but there was amusement in his slitted eyes. "Watch. I will show you this woman."

He lifted the lid without difficulty. The wax figure of a beautiful woman lay in the box. "I found this while hunting rats, master. I have an instinct for such things."

I was examining the wax figure. I lifted it, finding that my fingers thought it a real woman of blood and flesh, and laid it back in its box.

"Would you like to hear it speak?"

I shook my head. "I can easily believe that people have been deceived into thinking this wax woman real. Is that what you mean?"

"It is real, master. A real woman shaped of wax. If you change your mind and wish to hear it speak and see it walk, you and I might force the warlock to animate it, I think."

12

"ARE YOU TALKING about our commander, Uraeus?" I returned to the boxes on which we had been sitting. "That little old man from Parsa?"

"No, master." Uraeus joined me, bringing the lid of the wax woman's box. "Qanju is a Magi. Holy Sahuset is the warlock. He is a man of my own nation."

"The healer."

"Sahuset may heal at times, master. I do not know."

"He can make that figure walk and talk? That's the woman the scribe was talking about?"

"Yes, master. Even by day, perhaps, although those who saw her in Ra's golden light might not be deceived. By night he can, certainly. And in dark places, too, or so I would guess."

"Can you do it?"

To that question, Uraeus shook his head; if I had not been u

"You are no common man," I told him. Like so many frightened men, I spoke too loudly.

"There are no common men," he whispered. "Only men others consider so. You yourself are not among those, master."

"I suppose you're right."

"Nor are there common women. Your Myt-ser'eu is no common woman, and neither is Neht-nefret. No more is Sabra."

I asked who Sabra was, and he pointed to the wax figure. "It is a trick known to many, master. The wizard makes an image and causes the image to live for a time. I know you forget many things, but if you have seen a staff carved to resemble a serpent, you may remember it."

"Perhaps I have seen such staffs," I said, "since I feel sure that seeing a staff like that would not surprise me."

"Warlocks have them, master, and anoint them with the blood of serpents. They throw them down, and the wooden serpent lives for a time. I fought such a serpent once." Uraeus does not smile, or so I believe; but he came near it then. "The trick is easily done, and the box that surprised you easier still. Do you not wish to examine this lid?"

I carried it to the sunlight under the hatch; its canvas and ropes had been glued to the wood.

"The ends of these ropes touch the ends of the others, master," Uraeus explained. "The cloth to which they cling has itself been glued to the lid. One must look carefully in Ra's light to see it as it is."

I nodded, mostly to myself. "The healer must have brought this to our ship after dark. It's just a trick."

"They are all tricks, master. None but the gods work miracles."

"I'm surprised the lid didn't fall off while the box was being loaded. Do you know how he kept it on?"

A new voice, low and haunting, said, "You hold the answer."

I turned, and saw the wax woman sitting up in her box.

"Would you like this back?" I asked. I was still frightened, but I showed her the lid. "I suppose it's yours."

"You need not bring it, Latro." She rose. "I will come and get it."

This she did, walking slowly and gracefully, not in the least troubled by the gentle motion of our vessel. Can I ever have been as frightened as I was by the leisurely approach of that beautiful woman? Each fluid step shouted that worse than death may befall a man.

"Look here." She turned over the lid to show its underside. "Don't you have handles like these on the back of your shield?"

I mastered my fear sufficiently to confess that I have no shield.

"Men who flee throw aside their shields and leave them on the battlefield," the wax woman said. "You did not flee when I came to take this."

"Neither did Uraeus," I told her.

"He would not, only slither into some crevice." She smiled. "Do you think him your friend?"

"He's my slave, but I hope he bears me no ill will."

"He is no one's friend, save his master's."

Uraeus surprised me, saying, "This is my master now, Sabra. His is the blood of Osiris."

"What? Your chill ichor warms to him?" The wax woman's laugh was low and soft. "May I sit by you, Latro? There's plenty of room."

I told her she might, rose while she sat, and resumed my seat when she had settled into place. "You are not wax," I said.

"Thank you, kind Latro."

"Your breasts moved as you sat. Wax would not do that."

"My mouth moves when I speak to you. Would wax do that?"

I did not know what to say.

"We've met before, you and I, though you have forgotten me. I came to your i

I said, "That must be why I'm not afraid of you," although I was terribly afraid of her.

Uraeus whispered, "Did your master come here to animate you, Sabra? Can he walk unseen?"

"Oh, sometimes." The wax woman smiled. "No, Serpent of Sesostris, he did not. He would be angry to learn that I walk and speak here."

Uraeus's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, and it seemed to me his neck grew longer, as a turtle's does. "Who has animated you?"

The wax woman ignored his question. "You do not have your sword tonight, Latro."

"It isn't night," I told her, "and I gave my sword to Myt-ser'eu while I wrestled."