Soldier of Sidon

I do not believe stars can be eaten, but I did not contradict Qanju.

"We call him Apep," Thotmaktef told me, "and Aaapef. Set, Sut, Sutekh, Setcheh, and many other names."

I asked whether it were not possible to appease this god.

"You would not wish to do so," Qanju said.

The healer returned with a monkey riding his shoulder. This monkey made faces at Myt-ser'eu and me, chattered, whispered to the healer, tried to peer up Myt-ser'eu's thin cotton shift, and did many other things that amused me.

I told the healer how Myt-ser'eu had been hurt, but he did not wish to examine her wound. "If the Noble Qanju has treated it, he will have done all I could do," the healer said. "I will make an amulet for her to keep this from happening again."

He took the little bag Myt-ser'eu wears about her neck; I saw that she was loath to part with it, although she did at my urging. It was given to her by a priest of Hathor.

"What of the Dark God," I said, "the god Noble Qanju calls Angra Manyu?"

"You sit in the sun all day," the healer told me, "in order to be comfortable. Is that not so?"

I said that I did not remember, but that it did not seem likely. Myt-ser'eu said we sit in the shade. The sun here is bright and strong, and even the sailors lounge in the shade when they have no work to do. My soldiers-the five from Kemet-make shades of their big shields.

"In that case," the healer told us, "you must not listen when men speak ill of the Dark God."

I asked whether this god ever appeared as a black cat of great size.

"Ah, you've seen his servant. He often takes that shape. I see him in that shape by night, here on the ship."

I explained that he had kept me from returning to Myt-ser'eu while she was being cut; the healer said it would not happen again, that the amulet he would give her would prevent it.

Myt-ser'eu said, "How was it possible for someone to cut me without waking me? I had drunk only a single bowl. I swear it."

"Her knife is very sharp," the healer said, "and she knows spells that bring deep sleep."

We wanted to know who this woman was. It was clear he knew her. He would not tell us, saying that the time was not ripe and ill fortune would follow if he revealed her name.

"If the panther is a god," I said, "how is it he serves this woman?"

"He is not and does not," the healer told us. "He serves the Dark God, and Sabra serves me."

18

THE HEALER'S PET wished us farewell as Thotmaktef, Uraeus, and I went to the market to buy wine for Myt-ser'eu. It used both front paws, and it seemed to me the omen was ill. If a man had those eyes, I would at once suppose him a bad one.

Qanju had told us to buy good wine, and to bring Myt-ser'eu only the cleanest and purest water. This is because of the wound she suffered while sleeping in an i

When we had left our ship, and indeed the quay and its storehouses, behind us, Thotmaktef assured me that Muslak would not put out without me, and that Qanju would not permit him to put out without us in any case.

After that, the first thing we did ashore was to buy a new headcloth for me. My head is shaved, I suppose to prevent vermin, and Thotmaktef said people would assume that I was another priest if I did not cover it. My head is large, but a seller of such cloths had his wife sew one to my measure. She was quick, and the cloth is strong cotton with blue stripes. It keeps the sun from my head and shelters my shoulders too. I like it very much and paid for a second for Uraeus, whose bald head might easily be mistaken for a shaved one.

Thotmaktef and I talked of our errand. He pointed out that we would require more water than wine. A single jar of wine would be sufficient, but we should have five of water. We rented a donkey with pa

We went in and introduced ourselves to the merchant, whose name is Agathocles. "We spoke yesterday," he told me. "You were with a pretty young lady, remember? I told you why we call this polis Thebes of the Thousand Gates. You told me you had only just come to Wast and were traveling south."

I did not remember, but I recalled reading of the encounter in my scroll and said I did.

"I've seen you before that, too." He drummed his chest with his fingers, which seems to be a habit of his when perplexed. "That was why I went up to you and spoke. I wish I could remember where."

"So do I," I said. "My name is Latro. Does that help?"

His eyes opened a trifle wider at my name; but he said, "No…No, it doesn't. There was a Latros at the games one year. So I've heard. I wasn't there, though I would have liked to go. He won the pankration, they said. He was a terrifying fighter."

"Latro is in charge of our troops," Thotmaktef explained. "I know he's a fine wrestler, but he's certainly not a bully."

"Troops?"

"It was thought we might need some fighting men in Wawat."

"I'd say you have at least one good one." Agathocles drummed his chest once more. "Back home… I'd almost swear… This Latros, the pankrationist, was a freedman of Pausanias's. This isn't the same man?"

Thotmaktef shook his head. "Latro's a soldier of Sidon. You probably know much more about those Crimson ports than I do, but as I understand it, it's a vassal city of the Great King's." (All this was new to me, but I have no doubt it is the truth. I have asked Thotmaktef where he learned so much about me, and he says Muslak told him.)

"That's not you?" Agathocles asked me.

I said it was not, unless the Pausanias he had mentioned was king of Sidon.

"He's a prince of Rope." Agathocles looked at me oddly. "Very famous."

I shrugged, and my slave Uraeus stepped in to explain that we had come to buy wine, and that it must be the best. All this was said in the tongue most men use here.

"That's correct," Thotmaktef told Agathocles, "and we'll buy no jar we haven't tasted."

"Nor would I sell you such a jar," Agathocles declared, "but I must see your money before you taste my wine."

I showed him some of the silver and gold from my pouch.

He smiled and got a jar for us, beautifully painted. "This is the very best I brought back from my last voyage. Grown in Cimon's own estate, on south-facing hillsides. You don't have to believe that, but it's the simple truth and your palate will testify to it. Would you like to taste it?"

We said we would, and he produced tiny cups. It was indeed excellent, warm and fragrant, dry without being sour. We asked the price, which seemed high but not outlandish. Thotmaktef offered to pay that much and a bit more for two jars, and eventually a bargain was struck. I paid.

"We need water, too," Thotmaktef explained. "Not ordinary water, the best and purest water obtainable."

"I know the best well in Kemet," Agathocles assured us. He left his clerk in charge of his shop and took us there himself, telling us truly that we would never find Charthi's house without a guide.

It was a house of many wings and courts some distance from the city, with walled grounds three times the size of most farms. After half a dozen arguments and repeated explanations, the porter went in to speak with some upper servant, leaving the four of us (and the donkey boy) to the beggars who haunted its gate and two savage dogs whose chains let them attack anyone who came too near it.