Fires of Alexandria Page 33
Chapter Thirty-One
Sepharia sat on a barrel, sipping a cup of wine, watching her Aunt Ada break a smile across her face that spoke of long relief.
She was supposed to only think of her as Heron, but Sepharia found it hard to do. Heron was her father, though he was a man she barely knew.
Sepharia recalled the laughing smile that sprung easily to his face as he spun her around when she was scarcely taller than his knees.
It was the smile on Ada's face that brought those memories back to her. Ada rarely smiled. Her lips were normally bleached white with purpose.
With the last of the war machines shipped out the day before and her debts with the new Alabarch covered, her aunt had much to celebrate.
Sepharia felt a bit guilty about keeping her father's name separate in her head from the new Heron, her aunt. It'd been her father's poor business sense that had created the debt. The feelings for her father were more like a mirage in the desert, distant and hazy and when she reached them, they faded to disappointment.
Ada deserved the name more than her father had. The name had little meaning when he'd owned it. A fledgling workshop among many and without weight to the name.
Despite his problems, her aunt had whispered stories of his genius to her at night, under the blankets. She even claimed that when she was stuck on a particularly thorny problem, she'd think about how her twin would approach it and sometimes the answer would appear, as if he'd sent it to her from the beyond.
Sepharia liked to think of it that way, and maybe it was even true. That her father, feeling guilty about the way he left them, had brokered a deal with Annubis to let him pass along his knowledge to his sister. She just hoped he hadn't given away too much.
Her aunt hobbled over using a cane to keep her steady and leaned against a barrel next to hers. She removed the harnesses a few days before and still seemed unsteady just using her cane.
"A raven steal your thoughts?" asked Ada.
Sepharia shrugged non-committal. "Just thinking about...."
Ada nodded and patted her on the arm. "Been thinking about him, too. Never stop, actually."
The party seemed to be winding down, though it wasn't much of one in the first place. Only Plutarch had dressed for it in a light blue toga that matched the desert sky. The others had worn their typical workshop gear. Punt, much to everyone's surprise, had worn a shirt.
The workers had left earlier. Heron had given them each a skin of wine, a few days off and a nice bonus. Plutarch had carped after they'd left, that he'd given them too much, but Heron had waved off any argument.
Punt came by on his way out, looking sheepish. "Apologies for the interruption, Master Heron."
"Please Punt, I'm too tired for the formalities." She gave him a soft smile and a brief nod of the head.
"My apologies for ever doubting you," said Punt while staring at his feet.
Ada's head rose and her face screwed into curiosity. "Doubting? When of all people have you ever doubted me, Punt? You've been my stalwart. A rock amid the stream."
Punt's hands took on a life of their own, opening and closing, until Punt shoved them into his armpits. "It's Astrela. A while back the bones said...," he let his voice trail off with implication and glanced up cautiously.
A smile transformed Ada's face into the spitting image of her father. "Dispel the thoughts from your concerns. It takes more than a few bones to bring me down."
Punt shrugged hesitantly. "I didn't believe her at first, but then after the accident, I began to wonder if the rest would come true."
"Prophecies can be dangerously self-fulfilling if we let them taint our thoughts," said Ada.
Punt shifted from foot to foot. Sepharia wanted to hear what Astrela had said. Like her aunt, she didn't believe in them, but she was curious.
Her desires were answered when Ada asked, "I'll bite. What was the prophecy?"
Punt wiped a hand across his bald head, knocking loose a few beads of sweat. "There was something about crows and staffs and then she said there would be a great accident and afterwards, the pillars of Rome would shake."
Ada's eyebrow went up in mock amusement. "And you believed the explosion with the first steam mechanic was our great accident?"
Punt met Ada's eyes and his posture grew less confident. "Well...."
"How many other accidents did we have last year? Last spring, didn't you blow up a crucible, throwing you across the foundry and nearly killing Plutarch?" she asked.
Punt scratched his head. "I'd forgotten about that."
"And what about the miracle we made for that little temple with the goat-legged god? Didn't a rotten timber nearly kill Plutarch when it snapped in half, sending the whole structure after him?"
"And that one, too. I guess," mumbled Punt.
"For that matter, didn't I have a reputation of bad luck from previous accidents?" she said, the amusement spreading quickly.
"Apologies, Master Heron," said Punt.
"No need, my friend," said Ada. "We have accidents because I'm constantly pushing the workshop to newer and untested designs. That's what's been causing the ill luck. It hasn't been luck at all, but just my stubbornness to keep pushing the edges, rather than capitalize on past success."
Sepharia had never thought of it that way, but it made sense. She'd also wondered in the past if they were cursed. The realization that Ada was right dawned on Punt, too.
"As for Rome shaking. They're worse than my workshop. The great Roman Empire strains itself regularly," she explained.
Punt bowed. "Then I will push questioning thoughts from my mind."
Punt accepted Ada's offering of a clasped hand. "Questioning thoughts are always welcome in the House of Heron." Ada paused. "Just base them on your own eyes and ears rather than the tilting of bones."
Punt laughed and then a remembered thought appeared on his face. "Master Heron, I nearly forgot something."
Heron indicated he should continue.
"Our investigations, while you were at the Oracle. Plutarch learned nothing useful from the Magistrate and my wanderings only proved that nearly every temple in the city has some crescent shaped moon on their walls."
She nodded and Punt left with a sack of self-trimming lamps over his shoulder.
Ada turned to Sepharia once the blacksmith had left. "It's just us girls," she whispered. Plutarch had left while they were speaking with Punt.
"What now?" Sepharia asked.
Ada took her hand in her own. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "Without that awful debt weighing us down and the wonder of the steam mechanic at our fingertips, we can do anything we please."
"Can you be Ada?" Sepharia whispered, and regretted it when her aunt's shoulders slumped slightly.
Ada shook her head. "Not here. The world is not ready for that."
"What about in the North? Agog told me that in his lands, women aren't only legally a hair above slaves. They have as much power as men," said Sepharia.
"Maybe, when we've accomplished our goals here, we can travel up to the North and visit. Then maybe I can be someone else." She paused in thought. "Though I'm not sure if I remember who that is."
"You like him," Sepharia said. "I've seen the way you look at him."
Ada shook her head. "I'm fascinated by him, but no. Not him. His heart is spoken for."
Sepharia could see the longing in her aunt's eyes. The resignation of her station and role in life.
Sepharia wondered if Ada believed the sacrifice was worth it, so that she could create her inventions. But she dared not ask.
"He's gone anyway. Didn't have the courtesy to even say goodbye. Just took his machines and left," said Ada with a hint of anger. "And as Heron of Alexandria, I have much to do."
"He's gone for sure?" she asked.
Ada nodded. "He'd been restless to move on for weeks. Especially after the black stone arrived."
"What do you think he's going to do with those war machines?" Sepharia asked eventually.
"Hopefully take them far from Alexandria. If the Romans find out I've equipped a warlord with new technologies far superior to their own, they will come knocking on my door," said Ada.
A distant bell began to ring.
"That's odd. No bells are to ring at night," said Ada.
Sepharia agreed and then, as suddenly as the bell began to ring, it stopped.
"We should see what that is," said Ada.
A faint orange glow could be seen from the courtyard. Sepharia indicated it with an outstretched arm.
"Fire," Ada whispered.
"Let me go to the courtyard to look," said Sepharia.
Ada limped toward their living quarters. "I'll check from the upper floor. I hope it's not...." Her words trailed off, the concern obvious in Ada's eyes.
Sepharia ran to the courtyard. The orange glow was definitely a fire in the city. It was hard to tell exactly where it came from. The buildings blocked her view. At best she gathered it centered in the Juden District.
Then she thought she heard a rumbling sound, like the sound of a heavy rain on a stone roof.
Up the street would be a better place to see the fire. She went to the gate, but paused when she heard distant shouting, like the sustained chatter of a gladiator arena waiting for the fight.
Her palms grew clammy. She hesitated.
Judging by the direction of the glow, her aunt wouldn't be able to see what was happening.
Sepharia unlocked the gate and went through.
She didn't make it five steps when men appeared out of the dark. A bag was slammed over her head.
"Who'd we get?" asked a rough voice.
Sepharia struggled against the hands, but they were too strong.
"His daughter," said a smooth voice full of silk. It had a strange accent she didn't recognize.
"Shall we go in and get the miracle worker?" the rough voice asked.
"I think not," said the silky one. "I'm not partial to going in that cursed place. Let him come to us. Plus, the streets aren't going to be a safe place much longer."
The silky one snickered and then Sepharia felt herself being picked up and thrown over a shoulder. She tried to throw the man's balance off by squirming, but he was much too strong.
As Sepharia was being carried away from the workshop, she shouted for help.
The man carrying her punched her in the head, silencing her as she reeled in pain.
Tears formed in Sepharia's eyes.
The only solace to her abduction was that when she'd shouted for help, she'd yelled "Heron" while thinking of Ada.