Fires of Alexandria Read online

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  "We are being followed," he said, matter-of-factly.

  Heron nodded. She'd seen them since the road had turned more eastward.

  "One man to the north, running parallel," she said proudly.

  When Agog clicked his tongue, she knew she had missed something.

  "Another behind on a camel," he said.

  Heron resisted the urge to turn and look. "How can you be certain? You've been facing forward the whole afternoon?"

  Agog pointed to his nose. "The wind blows at our backs and camels smell like shit."

  "Raiders? Shall we fire up the steam mechanic? Siwa can't be far," she said playfully.

  "Since the horses will have to be loosed to use the mechanic, I'd rather stay on the wagon," he said with a gentle nod. "Unless you were planning on riding the horses in and letting me steer the wagon."

  "Well then I guess we'd better hope they aren't raiders," she said.

  Agog gave another exploratory sniff. "I detect the faint scents of incense. I believe our camel rider is from the temple."

  Heron laughed lightly.

  It had been a long time since she'd been in the presence of a man for so long. Her life was dedicated to the workshop and except for the rare occasions to raise funds or sell her inventions, she never left its walls.

  Not that Heron couldn't admire the men of her workshop. Punt was a broad-chested Egyptian man with bronze skin and a pleasant face, but he was married. Plutarch was tall and slender and handsome, but not inclined to women.

  They'd been working for her so long that she thought of them more as brothers than men. Not that it mattered. She couldn't dare expose the illusion, lest the workshop be taken from her and Sepharia sold into slavery.

  Distant anguish tugged at her heart. She missed her twin. As much for his comforting presence as the cover he would have provided. If he were alive, she could have stayed Ada and worked in the workshop, while he stayed the face.

  Then she could even consider a man like Agog. Heron tested the winds for the airs of the camel, but all she could smell was Agog's salty man scent.

  She wondered if he suspected. Their conversations during the second leg of the journey had been flirty. But she didn't dare.

  Deep down she didn't trust the northerner. He'd been keeping things from her, so there was no reason to involve him in her secrets. Even if she did ache to feel a man's touch again, just for a night.

  Hours later, cresting a sand swept hill, they both gasped upon seeing the Oasis of Siwa stretch out before them. Palm trees fluttered in the wind over the hidden valley.

  In the middle of the valley of palms, a white temple thrust out from the greenery. Even in the fading light of dusk, the temple shown like a clear jewel against the sky.

  The road to the temple was clear as a white snake slithering through the palms, beset with columns at intervals. Heron steered the wagon toward it.

  When Agog shifted, visibly tensing, she knew visitors approached.

  As they reached the palms, a man in sheer white desert robes stepped from a column. It had appeared the man had slipped out of the stone, but Heron knew better than to believe an illusion she'd performed herself in the temples.

  "Salutations, Heron of Alexandria," said the man.

  Heron found herself not surprised in hearing her name, though she noticed Agog had flinched.

  Upon closer approach, Heron could see the man's crystal blue eyes studying her with amusement.

  "Greetings," she said. "Might we know your name, that you know ours?"

  The man bowed deeply. "Ahhh, but in your heart I think you know my name, your waking mind just hasn't discovered it yet. But I will humor you, because you are our guest. I am Salhaed, priest of Ammon."

  "Greetings, Salhaed," she said.

  When she sensed Agog wanting to speak, she placed a hand on his arm. Agog gave her a sideways glance but she shook her head.

  After Salhaed straightened, he spoke again, "I do not know the name of your companion."

  "He is my bodyguard. His name is Garn." The deception came easily to her lips though she hadn't planned on it. Because they'd known who she was upon arrival, she thought it best not to give them more information.

  "Salutations, Garn," said Salhaed.

  Agog nodded his head reverently and kept silent. She let out a tiny breath, glad that the northerner had agreed to her lie, even though she wasn't quite sure why she had said it.

  As Heron brought the wagon next to Salhaed, the priest began studying the boxes and diverse shapes contained within.

  "I've never seen a wagon so strangely loaded for a trip to our humble oasis," said Salhaed.

  "We sought to confuse those who might be watching as we left Alexandria, but it seems we could not deceive the priests of Ammon," she said as flatteringly as possible.

  Salhaed grinned and gave her a slight bow of appreciation. "Yes. Our sight goes beyond the mortal realms. Mere oddly shaped boxes cannot confound us."

  "Shall we give you a ride to the temple proper or will you walk the whole way?" she asked.

  Salhaed winked at her and then put two fingers to his lips and whistled. A white stallion appeared from the trees and the priest expertly grabbed onto the horse and slung himself upon it as it ran by.

  Even Agog clicked his tongue in appreciation at the display of horsemanship. Heron found herself slightly annoyed that she could interpret Agog's subtle clicks of the tongue.

  "There. Now I may continue our conversation without slowing your journey," he said, riding next to them.

  "We were not slowed," said Heron. "The horses could use a break from their hard journey across the desert."

  "Well, then. We are not but a moment longer and then we shall unbridle your horses and wash the dust from your faces. The Temple of Ammon has long been looking forward to your visit," said Salhaed.

  "Your hospitality in the harsh desert is unmatched," she said.

  As they neared, Heron realized that the temple was perched atop a small hill in the center of the valley. The temple building had appeared above the palms because it rested on the peak.

  The steep slope would be challenging for her to climb with her leg harnesses, no matter how improved they were.

  The waters of the oasis came into view as they made the final turn. A sizable village sat beneath the temple. Torch light flickered across the water surface as the day darkened.

  From the number of houses, at least two hundred lived at the oasis. Children could be seen running from house to house, playing games. Women in colorful robes with baskets teetering on their heads walked back from the water's edge.

  Heron didn't see any men, but she sensed they were being watched from a distance. She assumed that if Agog made threatening movements, guards would appear and surround them.

  Salhaed lead them to stable that was nothing more than a thatched roof with no walls and a few posts to tie horses. A withered man scurried from a nearby hut and unhooked the horses from the wagon.

  Heron supervised for a moment until she realized the man would gently care for their horses by the way he cooed and rubbed their long noses lovingly. As she hobbled after Salhaed, she noted that he did not mention her leg harnesses.

  A stone cut doorway opened into the cliff. Heron thought they would enter the passage, until she saw a table set amid a grove of palms and surrounded by torches.

  Salhaed led them to the table, motioning for them to take a seat. As soon as they did, women appeared and poured them water in golden goblets.

  Their host had not spoken, so Heron kept quiet. Agog's eyes clearly studied their surroundings. She was glad she'd said he was her bodyguard, otherwise his tense movements could have been interpreted suspiciously.

  Heron wondered about the three seats at the table. Normally a bodyguard would not be seated with his charge. But maybe they had not really known who he was upon app
roach and she liked that reason better than that they knew his real identity but were letting her think she was deceiving them.

  "It is quite an honor to have the Michanikos visit our humble shrine," said Salhaed.

  "Humble shrine? No. The honor is mine," she said, raising a goblet in salute. "The Oracle of Siwa's role in Alexandria's rise is well known."

  Salhaed waved his hand at her dismissively. "We have no role. We are but speakers for the gods."

  "But without the Oracle's assertion that Alexander was descendant from Ammon, the city, along with its Great Library, would have been killed as a stillborn by the Egyptian elites," she said.

  Salhaed made a face that Heron detected as a flicker of anger or regret. But it passed so quickly, she couldn't be sure she'd seen it. It might have just been a trick of the torch light.

  Salhaed expertly steered the conversation to more mundane topics as roast bird and seasoned dates were brought for their meal. The priest asked questions about the current happenings in Alexandria, though Heron got the impression that he knew them already by the nature of his questions.

  As they plucked the meat from the bones and sipped from their cups, Heron presented a question, "When will I get to speak to the Oracle?"

  The priest gave no adverse reaction to her request. He seemed to be expecting it, in fact, as a faint smile rose to his lips.

  "One does not speak to the Oracle," said Salhaed, his crystalline blue eyes coldly regarding her. "The Oracle speaks only to you."

  "Then how do I give my question?" she asked.

  "In truth, the Oracle already knows your question, but most visitors wish to speak the question just to be sure," he said.

  Heron tilted her head and threw a bone back onto her plate. "If I must speak my question, but not to the Oracle, how will she hear it?"

  Salhaed inclined his head. "Your humble servant, Salhaed, will bring the message to her this evening. Then the following night as the crescent moon reaches the peak of its journey, high above the temple, you shall hear the answer from the Oracle."

  Agog shifted in his seat and she heard the tell-tale click of his tongue.

  "When shall I give my question?" she asked.

  Salhaed offered his hands in a receiving manner. "Whenever you feel it is necessary. Even now if you'd like. And then I will begin my journey to the peak."

  Heron nodded and pushed herself away from the table. Not because she was full, but to see both their faces as she asked the question.

  Agog was trying hard not to appear interested, but she could see the tenseness in his shoulders. The man was bristling.

  She was glad that Salhaed was focused on her, otherwise he would clearly see the bodyguard's discomfort, throwing her deception into question.

  Before Salhaed might notice, or she lost her nerve, Heron asked the question and found herself not surprised by either man's reaction.

  "Who started the fires that burned the Great Library in Alexandria?"