Silk Over Razor Blades (24 page)

‘
And you take that to be the
blessing of the gods rather than skill?’

‘
Who is it but the gods who bless us
with skill?’ She grinned and walked on.

Leaving the market area, Saar stepped
off the road marked out with white and blue tiles. Behind him, the
tall spires of the twin obelisks were visible, sharp points jabbing
towards the clear blue sky. Ahead, the point where the two largest
roads crossed buzzed with activity: people walking into stores,
chatting on the street, listening to the musicians playing under
the shade of a tall tree.

He passed the mausoleum dedicated to
Alexander, the city’s namesake, and angled north. His route took
him clear of Brucheum entirely and into Rhakotis. Saar walked
towards the port and the fresher scent of sea air.

Children darted past him, laughing. Two
girls and a boy, all wearing nothing but their skin. A smile
touched his lips as he recognised one of the chase games he had
enjoyed in his younger days before joining the army.

One of the girls shrieked, speaking
familiar and comfortable Egyptian. The other girl and the boy
laughed again and sprinted away, forcing Saar to step aside to
avoid the frantic charge.

Two streets on and within sight of the
port and a large ship carrying goods from Rome, Saar became aware
that he was being followed.

He heard the shuffle of footsteps
trying to match his own. A glance over his shoulder revealed
nothing, but the creeping sensation of eyes on his back continued
to itch between his shoulder blades.

Saar stopped. ‘Who are you?’ He turned
in a slow circle to search the street. ‘Why do you follow me?’

A man dressed in shabby black stepped
out from behind a well. ‘You have keen senses, Captain Saar.’

He frowned. Even after so many years he
was unused to being so well-known. ‘Thank you. Did you wish to
speak with me?’

‘
Yes, spare a coin or two to feed an
old man?’

‘
Of course.’ Saar didn’t hesitate in
pulling a handful of coins from his pouch. He passed them over
without checking their value.

‘
May the gods forever smile on you.’
Gripping the coins in one gnarled, hairy fist the stranger shuffled
on.

Saar watched him round a corner and
vanish from sight. Only when he was gone did he realise that the
conversation had taken place in Greek. Strange that such a shabby,
obviously poor man would understand the language of the richer
inhabitants of the city. Saar himself only knew the language
because Cleopatra insisted on teaching him, treating his education
as a pet project to fill her spare time.

His old home matched the others he
could see making a circle surrounding a narrow well: flat roofs,
white walls and a scattering of windows. He saw a pair of blankets
drying in two of the windows and an overhang of flowers from the
roof. In the doorway stood his mother, grey hair wrapped in a small
piece of cloth to protect it from the dust she swept into the
street.

She smiled as he approached, put the
sweeping rushes to one side and shuffled forward to kiss him on the
cheek. ‘I hoped I would see you today.’

‘
I brought supper.’ The smell of
bread grew stronger as he held up the bag.

‘
You didn’t have to do that. Silly
boy. Come inside, shelter from the sun.’ Though old and frail, her
grip was like bronze, and she tugged him into the cool interior of
the two-roomed house.

On a low table he saw the first traces
of supper, a heel of bread and the tail ends of two tiny fish. Two
clay mugs stood beside them, filled with beer. He picked up the
first and tipped it to his lips, grimacing when he found it watered
down.

‘
Mother,’ he began.

‘
No, Saar. Just sit with me. Not
another word. And put that bag away. I won’t be needing
it.’

‘
I bought it for you.’

Panya snorted. ‘Yes. As though you
yourself don’t need to be fed and watered.’

‘
I have more than enough at the
palace. Please let me do this for you.’

She pushed away the proffered sack and
sat on a stool made from a sawn tree trunk. ‘No. Tell me about your
day.’

Saar rolled his eyes. He nudged the
sack beneath the table with his foot, then leaned forward, propping
himself on his elbows. ‘I’m to meet with the queen today.’

Delight shone in Panya’s eyes. ‘I’m so
proud of you. I’ve never heard of another soldier given the
confidence and attention she gives you. What do you think it
means?’

‘
I don’t know.’ Tearing his gaze
away, he looked down at his fingers instead, tracing the callouses
across his palms and fingers.

‘
Perhaps she’ll take you into her
household or match you with one of her serving women. Imagine . . .
my boy a member of the Pharaoh’s household.’

‘
She asked only for my thoughts on
the defence of the city.’

‘
Let me hope, Saar. I live for
hope.’ Panya pulled the cloth off her head and fanned out the grey
strands of her thin hair. Standing, she crossed to a flat stone on
the floor covered with a faint dusting of white powder. Pulling
grain from the bowl beside it she spread it on the stone and picked
up another heavier one to begin grinding.

Saar watched her, enjoying the sight of
her delicate hands working so confidently.

‘
I hear talk of another statue. Do
you know what it is?’

Saar’s pleasure dimmed. ‘Yes. It’s of
Cleopatra.’

Panya raised her eyebrows.
‘Another?’

‘
Yes.’

‘
Perhaps you can convince our queen
that yet another statue is not a sensible way to spend hard-mined
gold?’

‘
I’m but a soldier, why should she
listen to me?’ He grinned. ‘Besides, I lack your wisdom.’

‘
Wisdom is age, Saar, nothing more.
You’ll learn that in time. Youth is for action and doing. Age is
for thinking and advising. You’ll see.’

‘
I’m a soldier. I’ll never see your
age.’

‘
Don’t be silly. The gods have great
plans for you. Did they not mark you to be the mover of great
things?’

Saar touched his right leg, high up on
the thigh, close to the surface of the stool. ‘A dream. A hope.
Nothing more.’

‘
Why else would they position you in
a role at which you excel? And why else would they coax Cleopatra
to favour you? Make no mistake, the world will speak your name for
years to come.’

Saar grinned and stood. He crossed to
the kneeling woman and wrapped his arms around her. He felt the
bird-like frailty of her arms and ribs and made his hug as gentle
as he could manage. ‘You’re kind, Mother. Your faith keeps me
strong.’

‘
And your strength gives me
faith.’

‘
I must leave.’

‘
Of course. Take care on the
streets.’

With one last hug, Saar left his mother
to her grinding, slipping out of the house and back the way he
came. He was pleased to realise that he had successfully left the
bread, beer and fish beneath the table.

***

Despite the late hour, the sun rode
high.

Saar felt the comforting warmth on his
bare arms and thanked Re for lighting the sky with his golden
warmth. He thanked Osiris for the food he was able to give to his
struggling mother and Horus for his ongoing protection. After a
moment of thought he spent a few moments asking Sheshat for
patience and wisdom during his visit to the palace.

On the edges of Rhakotis, just before
entering Brucheum, he became aware, once more, that he was being
watched. He stopped walking. One hand strayed to his belt
knife.

A familiar figure stepped out from
behind a tree, shaking back a dirt-encrusted sleeve to reveal a
grimy hand with long, broken fingernails. ‘Stay your hand, Saar. I
mean you no harm.’

Saar took his hand away from his knife
and placed it instead on the back of his neck where the small hairs
prickled and stood on end.

Such a dirty and unkempt man stood out,
even in Rhakotis where the people were poorer and the clothes less
colourful.

‘
Why do you follow me? I’ve already
given you coin.’ He resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose.

‘
A mere test. One you passed
easily.’

‘
Forgive me, wise one, but I cannot
linger. I must—’

‘
Meet with the queen. Oh yes, I
know. But not before you meet with the raven-haired beauty who
awaits you in the grain stores.’ The hairs on Saar’s arms leapt up
to match those on his neck. The man laughed. ‘Stay your fear, I
won’t reveal you. I wanted only your attention.’ His voice
resembled the rattle of stones down a rocky slope.

‘
You have it. What do you
want?’

The man lowered his hood with a hand as
dirty as the other. Freed from the shadows, the face looking out
brought to mind a walnut, wrinkled and pinched. The skin was as
dark as Saar’s own, though probably from the sun rather than a
product of his natural colouring. Hair, scraggly and thin,
surrounded his face in wisps like spiderwebs. His teeth were
yellow, slightly pointed and fewer than they should have been. Most
startling were his eyes: they were red, as though daubed with
blood.

Saar took a step back.

The man laughed. ‘I’ve startled
you.’

‘
Your eyes . . .’

‘
I’m old, Saar. And ill. The
sickness ruins my body and will eventually consume my sight. Do you
pity me?’

He swallowed. ‘Yes.’

‘
I don’t need your pity.’

Ashamed, Saar let his shoulders relax
and reclaimed his frightened step. ‘Then please, speak. Tell me
your name.’

The man bared his sharp teeth.
‘Kazemde.’

Saar widened his eyes. ‘And what
message do you have for me?’

Grinning wider, the man shuffled
forward to avoid the passage of a team of slaves carrying a litter.
A waft of sweet scents billowed through the air through the silken
curtains.

‘
You know the old words? Very good.
I
am
a messenger. An ambassador,
with a plan to help you save your city.’

‘
What do you mean?’

‘
Everybody knows. We outside the
palace aren’t fools, though we aren’t royalty. Our position is
delicate and requires gentle handling. Already Rome fears us, what
with Arsinae’s execution and the birth of Cleopatra’s young
children.’

Saar looked at his feet. ‘While not the
most diplomatic way to deal with her sister, the queen was correct
in doing so. Rome believed that she worked in league with Cassius.
We’d be at war now if not for her decisive action.’

‘
Perhaps. But what of her
relationship with Antony?’

The mention of that name brought Saar’s
head up with a snap. ‘He sought our support in arms, nothing more.
He won’t return.’

‘
You’re certain?’

‘
He has no love for Egypt.’

The old man tapped his lips with one
skinny finger.

Saar gathered his thoughts. It took
some effort. ‘What does this have to do with your message? You’re
well versed in politics; are you an ambassador of the Senate?’

Kazemde gave another of those dry,
rocky laughs that turned into a hacking cough somewhere in the
middle. ‘Do I look like a servant of the Senate?’

‘
No.’

‘
My message concerns power. The
power of the gods.’

‘
I don’t understand.’

Kazemde raised himself to his full
height and though that wasn’t very far, the effect was startling.
‘Meet me tonight, when the moon rides high in the sky.’ Gone was
the rattle of stones from his voice. Instead, he spoke with strong,
authoritative tones. ‘Beneath the sands outside Alexandria is a
cluster of caves. Go to the island of Pharos and enter the tower.
Find the stone with a carved mark in the likeness of a bared sword
and from there you may enter the caves.’

Saar hid a scoff behind his hand.
‘There are no caves beneath the tower, only the bed of the
sea.’

‘
The secret I keep is such that it
must be well hidden, of course you know nothing of them.’

He backed off, shaking his head.
‘Forgive me, but I must go.’

‘
I offer you a gift, Saar. Power to
change the world. You need only believe and trust me.’

Without looking back, Saar walked on,
passing into the Greek quarter to meet his queen.

‘
When you come, bring no weapons. No
jewellery. Bring no doubt. Bring only yourself and the clothes on
your back.’

‘
As you wish, old man.’ He moved
faster, aware that he would be late for his meeting with
Kiya.

Kazemde gave one last shout. ‘Tell
Antony that I wish him many congratulations on his coming wedding
to the Nea Isis.’

Gaping, Saar whirled around, but the
man was already gone, vanished from the streets as though he had
never been. Wiping his mouth, Saar searched high and low before
running on, his mind now filled with thoughts of Antony.

Saar glanced over his shoulder,
skimming the narrow passage in both directions. But for a pair of
spear-slender cats slinking through the shadows he saw no one.

Satisfied, he kept moving, wedging his
body through the gap between two large rows of grain bins. At the
far end he saw a loaf of bread on a blanket beside a cold smoked
fish and a handful of dried dates.

He sighed. ‘This is a wonderful
surprise, Kiya, but I cannot stay to enjoy it. Please forgive
me.’

The woman in question stepped out from
behind one of the bins, her silky robes fluttering behind her. Her
large, dark eyes narrowed as she approached, an effect compounded
by the dark smudges of kohl around them. ‘You’re late.’