From the base of the outcropping, the ruins on its top, a victim of some ancient downpour, resembled a mound of jagged, broken pots discarded by a lost race of giants. By the time John and his party arrived at the plateau and passed through the gap in its partially eroded wall, darkness had shrouded the building. A fire in the space before them cast flickering shadows against a facade constructed of blocks of red sandstone incised with hieroglyphs, interrupted by a high, dark doorway framed with wooden beams.
“That’s the entrance to the maze,” said Thorikos. In the firelight the traveler’s round face appeared scarlet from the exertion of the climb. “Not very impressive, is it? I hope I haven’t come all this way for nothing.”
Looking around, John noticed the flat area in which they were standing was scattered with rubble. The doorway before them must have once been inside a larger structure from which building material had been scavenged over the years. Part of it might well have found its way into the wall of Melios’ house, quite possibly having made several stops between leaving the temple and arriving at his estate.
The crowd in the clearing resembled one that might fill a marketplace near the docks in Alexandria, all ages and all manner of dress, similar only in that very few were Egyptian. Thorikos greeted several people by name.
“I’m staying at the pilgrim camp,” he explained to Cornelia. “Just think of me sleeping in a tent in the desert! It’s terribly cold and uncomfortable, of course, and my friends at home will never believe it! I gather this is a popular destination because it isn’t really famous yet. Naturally, everybody wants to visit the wonder no one knows about!”
“Do you intend to venture into the maze?” Cornelia asked.
“I considered it, as I have been feeling a little unwell, but decided not to. What if I got lost and couldn’t be found again? I suppose whatever ailment I have doesn’t require a miracle to cure it. Or not yet, at least.”
Once again the gong was struck. The sound issued from the temple’s dark doorway, the interior space amplifying the note and creating an eerie confusion of echoes.
Two men strode past carrying a pallet and placed it next to the fire. The weathered man they carried looked familiar.
“That’s the beggar we saw on our way into Mehenopolis,” said Thorikos. “I saw him again in the pilgrim camp. He told me he’d collected enough from the charitable for the offering he wanted to make in order to enter the maze. He’s hoping to be healed.”
Thorikos paused and wrinkled his brow. “Please don’t imagine I believe such blasphemy but it’ll make a fine cautionary tale when I return home.”
The chattering crowd began to congregate around the fire.
“I’m going closer,” Thorikos said. “I’ve come this far, so I might as well take a few more steps and get the best view.” He bustled away.
Hapymen emerged from the ruined temple carrying a table and a sack. He arranged items from the sack on the table and vanished again.
“That’s the gardener I was telling you about,” Peter said to John.
John noticed how Peter’s gaze kept moving toward the fire. “Go closer if you want, Peter. I’m content to stay here.”
“Thank you, master.” The servant made his way forward, sat down beside the man on the pallet, and was soon deep in conversation with the sufferer.
Cornelia remained at John’s shoulder. “I’ll be interested to see if Dedi uses any of Baba’s old tricks,” she remarked.
John scanned the crowd. A few were dressed in rags barely suitable for a desert hermit, while others wore garments far too fine for climbing outcroppings.
Hapymen returned with a large, lidded basket which he set beside the fire. When he had departed again, the gong sounded once more. A cloud of thick, luminescent smoke billowed from the ruin’s doorway, roiled outwards, and dissipated, revealing the diminutive figure of Dedi.
The healer and worker of magick held up his arms. “Welcome!” he shouted. “Shortly the favored among you will be permitted to consult the oracle. Before that, however, I must address certain important matters of which I have become aware.”
Assuming a severe expression, Dedi looked around the crowd until his gaze fell on John. “I know there are those among you who doubt my abilities. For them, I will demonstrate the powers which I claim are genuinely mine.”
“What powers are those?” someone called out. “Would you care to wager on how genuine they are?”
Dedi’s crooked-toothed mouth puckered into a smile. He picked up two items from the table. “Certainly I’ll wager with you, my friend. As you see, I am holding one coin in each hand.”
The coins flashed in the semi-darkness as he held them up to catch the firelight. He stretched his arms straight out on each side at shoulder height, so that his hands were as far apart as possible. “Shall we wager you will pay me twice their value if I cannot cause one coin to join the other without bending my arms? Yes? We are agreed? Very well!”
Dedi shouted a few unidentifiable words, and then, keeping his arms stiffly extended, swiveled to one side, bent slightly at the knees, and dropped the coin from his left hand on the table. Then he swiveled the other way, and picked up the coin with the hand of his still rigid right arm.
A roar of laughter rose into the night sky as the unlucky wagerer picked his way forward and tossed Dedi a few pieces of copper, giving the magician a rueful grin.
The magician bowed and strutted in front of the flames, a tiny figure attached to an enormous shadow. When the merriment had subsided, Hapymen reappeared bearing a pottery bowl which he set on the table. He remained standing beside Dedi.
Dedi tapped the bowl. “Here is an attractive vessel made by my assistant, Hapymen. I may say that he is an excellent potter, whose wares are of a finer quality than many of you can obtain in your native lands. What’s more, he needs your business. His wife is always complaining that coins seem to leap out of his hands as if by magick!”
Several in the audience guffawed loudly.
Dedi nodded his head knowingly. “I can tell some of you face similar domestic situations. But then, it doesn’t take a seer to guess that. If you would be inclined to assist Hapymen with his household expenses, and I trust you are, he also offers fine pilgrim flasks such as are sold in Alexandria.”
Dedi leaned forward, glanced around, and went on in a conspiratorial tone. “Things are getting so difficult, my friends, poor Hapymen may be reduced to begging. He won’t be able to make a living at it, I fear.”
The magician shook his head in exaggerated sorrow. “No, you see, there is a problem with the begging bowl. Coins may be thrown in,” he said, suiting action to words by tossing one of the coins he held into the bowl. “But they leap right out!”
As he spoke, the coin in the bowl flipped upwards, and landed on the table. Hapymen grabbed the coin, bowed, and departed speedily, waving his prize in triumph, pursued by surprised gasps and delighted laughter.
John noted that Peter was smiling as he watched Dedi intently. It would be instructive to see if the servant, being closer, had seen through the trick.
“He’s good at manipulating the crowd,” Cornelia observed. “A little humor puts them off guard, and working by firelight is convenient for concealing sleight of hand. What do you suppose he’d say if you wished to ask the oracle the puzzle on Melios’ estate?”
Scarcely had she spoken when Dedi, having astonished a man of bucolic aspect by producing three small stone scarabs from the latter’s ear, assumed a grave expression.
“Now that I have shown that I can indeed do all I claim, we will see if the oracle will favor us with a pronouncement.”
There was an excited murmur as he removed the lid from the basket beside the table, knelt down, and removed what was inside.
In the confusion of shadows and firelight, it was difficult to see what was happening. Cries of astonishment and terror began to ring out as Dedi got back to his feet.