‘You go up first,’ said Teppic, ‘I think someone’s coming.’
‘Who are you?’
Teppic fished in his pouch. He’d come back to Djeli an aeon ago with just the clothes he stood up in, but they were the clothes he’d stood up in throughout his exam. He balanced a Number Two throwing knife in his hand, the steel glinting in the flarelight. It was possibly the only steel in the country; it wasn’t that Djelibeybi hadn’t heard about iron, it was just that if copper was good enough for your great-great-great-great-grandfather, it was good enough for you.
No, the guards didn’t deserve knives. They hadn’t done anything wrong.
His hand closed over the little mesh bag of caltraps. These were a small model, a mere one inch per spike. Caltraps didn’t kill anyone, they just slowed them down a bit. One or two of them in the sole of the foot induced extreme slowness and caution in all except the terminally enthusiastic.
He scattered a few across the mouth of the passage and ran back to the rope, hauling himself up in a few quick swings. He reached the roof just as the leading guards ran under the lintel. He waited until he heard the first curse, and then coiled up the rope and hurried after the girl.
‘They’ll catch us,’ she said.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘And then the king will have us thrown to the crocodiles.’
‘Oh no, I don’t think—’ Teppic paused. It was an intriguing idea.
‘He might,’ he ventured. ‘It’s very hard to be sure about anything.’
‘So what shall we do now?’
Teppic stared across the river, where the pyramids were ablaze. The Great Pyramid was still under construction, by flarelight; a swarm of blocks, dwarfed by distance, hovered near its tip. The amount of labour Ptaclusp was putting on the job was amazing.
What a flare that will give, he thought. It’ll be seen all the way to Ankh.
‘Horrible things, aren’t they,’ said Ptraci, behind him.
‘Do you think so?’
‘They’re creepy. The old king hated them, you know. He said they nailed the Kingdom to the past.’
‘Did he say why?’
‘No. He just hated them. He was a nice old boy. Very kind. Not like this new one.’ She blew her nose and replaced her handkerchief in its scarcely adequate space in her sequined bra.
‘Er, what exactly did you have to do? As a handmaiden, I mean?’ said Teppic, scanning the rooftop panorama to hide his embarrassment.
She giggled. ‘You’re not from around here, are you?’
‘No. Not really.’
‘Talk to him, mainly. Or just listen. He could really talk, but he always said no one ever really listened to what he said.’
‘Yes,’ said Teppic, with feeling. ‘And that was all, was it?’
She stared at him, and then giggled again. ‘Oh, that? No, he was very kind. I wouldn’t of minded, you understand, I had all the proper training. Bit of a disappointment, really. The women of my family have served under the kings for centuries, you know.’
‘Oh yes?’ he managed.
‘I don’t know whether you’ve ever seen a book, it’s called The Shuttered—’
‘—Palace,’ said Teppic automatically.
‘I thought a gentleman like you’d know about it,’ said Ptraci, nudging him. ‘It’s a sort of textbook. Well, my great-great-grandmother posed for a lot of the pictures. Not recently,’ she added, in case he hadn’t fully understood, ‘I mean, that would be a bit off-putting, she’s been dead for twenty-five years. When she was younger. I look a lot like her, everyone says.’
‘Urk,’ agreed Teppic.
‘She was famous. She could put her feet behind her head, you know. So can I. I’ve got my Grade Three.’
‘Urk?’
‘The old king told me once that the gods gave people a sense of humour to make up for giving them sex. I think he was a bit upset at the time.’
‘Urk.’ Only the whites of Teppic’s eyes were showing.
‘You don’t say much, do you?’
The breeze of the night was blowing her perfume towards him. Ptraci used scent like a battering ram.
‘We’ve got to find somewhere to hide you,’ he said, concentrating on each word. ‘Haven’t you got any parents or anything?’ He tried to ignore the fact that in the shadowless flarelight she appeared to glow, and didn’t have much success.
‘Well, my mother still works in the palace somewhere,’ said Ptraci. ‘But I don’t think she’d be very sympathetic.’
‘We’ve got to get you away from here,’ said Teppic fervently. ‘If you can hide somewhere today, I can steal some horses or a boat or something. Then you could go to Tsort or Ephebe or somewhere.’
‘Foreign, you mean? I don’t think I’d like that,’ said Ptraci.
‘Compared to the Netherworld?’
‘Well. Put like that, of course …’ She took his arm. ‘Why did you rescue me?’
‘Er? Because being alive is better than being dead, I think.’
‘I’ve read up to number 46, Congress of the Five Auspicious Ants,’ said Ptraci. ‘If you’ve got some yoghurt, we could—’
‘No! I mean, no. Not here. Not now. There must be people looking for us, it’s nearly dawn.’
‘There’s no need to yelp like that! I was just trying to be kind.’
‘Yes. Good. Thank you.’ Teppic broke away and peered desperately over a parapet into one of the palace’s numerous light wells.
‘This leads to the embalmers’ workshops,’ he said. ‘There must be plenty of places to hide down here.’ He unwound the cord again.
Various rooms led off the well. Teppic found one lined with benches and floored with wood shavings; a doorway led through to another room stacked with mummy cases, each one surmounted by the same golden dolly face he’d come to know and loathe. He tapped on a few, and raised the lid of the nearest.
‘No one at home,’ he said. ‘You can have a nice rest in here. I can leave the lid open a bit so you can get some air.’
‘You can’t think I’d risk that? Supposing you didn’t come back!’
‘I’ll be back tonight,’ said Teppic. ‘And — and I’ll see if I can drop some food and water in some time today.’
She stood on tiptoe, her ankle bangles jingling all the way down Teppic’s libido. He glanced down involuntarily and saw that every toenail was painted. He remembered Cheesewright telling him behind the stables one lunch-hour that girls who painted their toenails were … well, he couldn’t quite remember now, but it had seemed pretty unbelievable at the time.
‘It looks very hard,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘If I’ve got to lie in it, it’ll need some cushions.’
‘I’ll put some wood shavings in, look!’ said Teppic. ‘But hurry up! Please!’
‘All right. But you will be back, won’t you? Promise?’
‘Yes, yes! I promise!’
He wedged a splinter of wood on the case to allow an airhole, heaved the lid back on and ran for it.
The ghost of the king watched him go.
The sun rose. As the golden light spilled down the fertile valley of the Djel the pyramid flares paled and became ghost dancers against the lightening sky. They were now accompanied by a noise. It had been there all the time, far too high-pitched for mortal ears, a sound now dropping down from the far ultrasonic …
KKKkkkkkkhhheeee …
It screamed out of the sky, a thin rind of sound like a violin bow dragged across the raw surface of the brain.
… kkkhheeeeeee …
Or a wet fingernail dragged over an exposed nerve, some said. You could set your watch by it, they would have said, if anyone knew what one was.