Vladimir turned and his eyes widened. The big African was standing behind him, completely filling the passageway, head bent over almost sideways.
"Hello," Mithridates rumbled, smiling at the Walach.
Vladimir bared his teeth reflexively, then grinned tightly. "Kind of cramped down here, isn't it?"
"It is," the African answered, backing up. Stepping carefully, he eased back up the stairs. Vladimir followed and Thyatis was sure he was relieved to escape the tension between Nicholas and her.
"We'll need both of them to move such a weight," she mused, watching Nicholas back away to the other side of the cabin. "Nicholas-what kind of missions have you taken for the Empire?"
"Whatever they gave me," he said suspiciously. "Why?"
She spread her hands, taking a breath. "Have you dealt with anything odd? With wizards or sorcerers?"
"Yes." The Roman settled back against the wall. "Vladimir and I were bodyguarding a Legion thaumaturge the last year. We were in Judea, cleaning up some local trouble, before the revolt swept over us. Then we were in Constantinople…" Nicholas' voice went hollow and Thyatis raised an eyebrow in surprise. The man seemed shaken. "That was very bad."
"I heard," she said. "I know how you feel-I've been in some scrapes where it seemed the gods were far away." A vision of flames filling the sky beyond an iron doorway tugged at her memory, but she put the thoughts and the grief they brought away with a shake of her head. Concentrate!
"This one of those?" Nicholas' expression had softened and Thyatis breathed a little sigh of relief. The tension had faded from his voice and his shoulders relaxed from guard stance. "Wizards? The dead come to life-the sky shaking with infernal voices? A chill like Thule ice in the air?"
"I hope not!" Thyatis grinned, running the tip of her tongue against the back of her teeth. "These telecasts are sorcerous, though, and the Hill thinks the Persians would give left nut and right sword-hand to secure one."
"I heard." Nicholas ventured a tight little smile. "Master Gaius said he'd seen one-all ablaze with green fire and whirling light. He said the prince used one to…"
Thyatis felt the room grow distant, rushing away from her. The tone change in the Roman's voice was plain-Nicholas knew old Gaius, and the prince-he respected them. Her eye fixed on the man's collar, finding a silver medallion there, worked in the shape of a dolphin. The crest of Caesar's house, she remembered. The Duchess' voice followed-The prince is charmed by the duradarshan and all it promises and dear Gaius Julius will bend heaven and earth to please our lord Maxian… So here is their agent, set before me as my second.
She blinked and saw Nicholas looking at her with a quizzical expression. "I'm sorry," she said, focusing on him again. "I've seen one too. An unsettling experience." She made a sharp wave with one hand, pushing away ill memories of the prince. "We believe there might be two in Egypt, or rather, there were two once and we hope to find just one, or the parts of one."
Nicholas watched her intently with his odd eyes, but said nothing.
"Do you have a problem," she said after a moment of looking back at him, "working for me?"
"No," Nicholas replied, but his jaw was clenched tight. "I was told to follow your orders."
"Will you?" she said, pushing away from the table. He licked his lips, staring up at her. Thyatis noticed his fingers were clenched tight around the hilt of his sword and for an instant, she thought she heard a singing sound, like fine glass being rubbed wet.
"I will," he said, grudgingly. Then he swallowed, as if he cleared his mouth of some poor taste, and said, "I've been the leader before, I know how it is. I-"
"Good." Thyatis said, cutting him off before he said something he would regret later. She swayed a little, as the ship shivered, pulling away from the dock. Thyatis leaned down, peering out a porthole and saw the narrow brickwork wall of the quay sliding past. Bronze rings, corroded and green, drifted past. "We're on our way, then."
She looked up, grinning, then frowned. Nicholas was already gone, leaving the cabin empty.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Alexandria, The Portus Magnus
Shirin pressed herself against a colossal sandstone foot, cloak over her mouth against billowing dust and heat. A row of gods towered above her, hands on knees, facing the sea. Dead stone eyes watched a column of Roman legionaries tramping past, hobnail boots ringing on the paving, shields gleaming in the noonday sun. Every man's face was grim and sparkling with sweat. They filled the avenue, pressing beggars and priests alike aside. Dust settled out of the air, coating Shirin's dark hair. Ignoring the legionaries-she had lost sight of Florus and his maniple in the confusion of debarkation-she turned away from the port and padded down a narrow side street. Hot dimness folded around her and the Khazar woman moved forward confidently, her face covered by a heavy veil.
Mutilated beggars whined as she passed, pushing dirty, stained bowls against her feet. She ignored them, leaving the alley and entering a wider street. Off to her left, over the turbaned heads of the multitude-pressing and shouting, every face alive with the urgent fever peculiar to Alexandria-she could see a tall, white pillar rising above brick and plaster warehouses.
That is the clock tower at the base of the Heptastadion causeway, she thought, orienting herself. Her previous time in Alexandria had been very short, though entertaining. Thyatis had led her through the warren of the city in haste and by night. Now daylight dazzled the eye, shining back from hundreds of copper pots hung on a storefront, glaring from enormous white buildings rising above the din and bustle of the street. The merchant harbor and the theater are to the left, the Serapeum ahead.
Without a pause, she darted into the crowd, slipping through a line of half-naked men carrying wicker baskets of owls. A line of obelisks marked the center of the great road, the base of each monument shining smooth-the ancient glyphs worn away by the passing shoulders and hands of the multitude. The Khazar paced herself, finding a rhythm in the current of the crowd and she followed the stream of humanity east towards the theater. If memory served, there were numerous shipping offices in the streets just north of the odeon and hopefully one of the agents could find her a ship to Pergamum and the Asian shore.
Fine-boned hands rested within her cloak, covering the hilt of her knife, touching the edge of the Eye and her pouch of coins. Dark eyes looked ahead, watching for eddies in the throng-a water-seller, a shouting priest, men arguing theology on the steps of a pillared building-watching for familiar signs. Within half a glass, a woman in the crowd-paused in the doorway of a baker's shop, her head shrouded in white cotton, silhouetted against the glow of ovens-drew her attention. Shirin slid aside, pressing herself against the nearest wall, watching the woman out of the corner of her eye.
She is of the Order. Shirin recognized something subtle in the way she walked. The Khazar woman froze, becoming entirely still, as she had learned to long ago in the stands of beech and oak at the fringe of the high prairie. The woman passed in the crowd, hands occupied with a basket of loaves, without a glance in her direction. Curious, Shirin eased away from the wall and followed, though she was amused with herself for tracking such an unwary quarry. I fled their sanctuary, she thought, watching the other woman's feet on the muddy stones of the street. Would they take me in? Shirin made a sour face, well hidden by her veil. Would I want them to?
Within a glass, the woman and her bread vanished through an inset door in a blank wall on an unremarkable side street. Shirin kept on, marking the turning into the blank-walled cul-de-sac. Her feet were tired and she was thirsty. The clinging humidity stole more moisture than it gave. A public fountain presented itself-no more than a marble trough set beside the street, warm silty water spilling from an ancient lion's broken jaws. She drank deeply, striving to keep track of children running past and the old men sitting before the doors of the houses. When she stood up, covering her face again, she realized the trail had led into a residential district.