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.