As Thotmaktef spoke of this, I saw that his baboon had followed us, or perhaps had been brought after us by the fair-haired huntress who held its paw as they walked over the tops of the thronging reeds. She smiled at me and was gone, though my heart ached for her. Now that the ceremony is over, I recall her better than any part of it, her graceful figure, high cheekbones, and smiling blue eyes. One breast was bare. Her gown* covered the other, if there was another breast there. From her side she drew the arrow that had dyed her gown with her own blood. After rinsing its head in the water, she wiped it and put it into her quiver. TWICE I WAS awakened in the night. I longed to write of those awakenings but could not, for I had no lamp. Now I have seen a boat bring the sun. The baboon (who brought the woman I wrote of when I last unrolled this scroll) rode in its prow.
Qanju awakened me first. He told me his name, fearing I had forgotten it while I slept. "I have scanned the stars for you," he said, "and they speak of wars and long and hazardous journeys. For years you will walk in a circle, following the path left by your own feet."
I asked whether I would find Falcata, and when and where I would find her if I did.
"You will find her," he said. "I could tell you more if I knew the day of your birth, and the position of the stars at that time."
I could not tell him those things.
He sighed. "In which case nothing is sure. You will find your sword, but from what I saw you will not find it in the place in which you look for it, since the Sky-Hunter has his back to you. As for when you will find it, the stars declare that you have never lost it."
I shook my head. "I don't understand."
"Neither do I, Lucius. When you have your sword again, I hope you will tell me how you regained it."
The second person to interrupt my sleep was a lovely woman; she touched me in a place in which I would hesitate to touch any woman save my wife. "You have waked me," she whispered, "thus I wake you. Whom do you trust?"
"No one," I whispered in reply, "not even myself-though I would trust my sword, if I had her. That's one reason I'm trying to find her."
"The lying woman beside you does not trust you. Too many men have played her false. She expects it from you each time you speak to her."
"Nor do I trust myself," I repeated.
"So you say. But you do. I trust you also. Do me a small favor, and I will tell you much that is to your advantage to know."
"Tell me now," I whispered, "if you trust me. Tell me, and if what you say is to my advantage, I'll do the small favor you ask."
"Will you?"
I rose as quietly as I could. "You have my word on it."
"Have you forgotten Sahuset?"
"The wise man of Myt-ser'eu's nation? I have forgotten his appearance, but before I slept I read that he would search for my sword by magic."
"He is doing that as we speak, but you must believe nothing he tells you. He lies to enlarge himself in his own sight; and if he finds your sword, you will never regain it."
"You seem to know him well. Are you Neht-nefret?" I had read that name in this scroll before I slept, and I knew that the woman beside me was Myt-ser'eu.
"I am Sabra, his wife." Sabra laughed very softly, but her laugh made me wish my spear were in my hand. "I know him better than any. I am he, in a way that you will never understand. I am also the woman who aided you against King Siaspiqa's soldiers. You have forgotten it, but they would have killed all of you if it had not been for me. Now you are returning to Siaspiqa's realm to seek the sword you left there. You may have need of me again."
"I hope not." I forget quickly, I know; but I had not forgotten her laugh as quickly as that.
"I said that I would tell you something of value. I have warned you against my husband, which may save your life if you will heed it. Now I will tell you something more, and claim the small favor you promised. I am Sahuset's wife, but I would prefer to be yours."
I shook my head. "That is of no value to me. I would never take another man's wife." A step or two away, Myt-ser'eu stirred at the sound of our voices.
"Am I nothing?" Sabra stroked my cheek as she spoke, and her hand was smooth and cold.
"You are beautiful," I whispered, "and have no need of the jewels you wear to tempt any man. If you were mine, I would rejoice in you. You aren't, and if your husband found us together he might kill you."
"He will not. He has spells, but I have his and my own."
A beast snarled as she spoke, and I turned to see burning eyes behind me.
"Beteshu will not harm you, but you need not fear Sahuset as long as Beteshu is with us. Listen to me. You say you do not trust that woman, and you are wise not to. But you love her. Deny it if you like-it will remain true through you deny it with every oath."
I shrugged. "Go on."
"She wears an amulet my husband gave her, a bull's head. Sahuset is the bull-it will draw her to him. That is the last coin in my hand. If it is of no value to you, you owe me no favor."
I was kneeling next to Myt-ser'eu before Sabra finished speaking. The cord that held her amulet snapped between my fingers and I threw both over the side. "You deserve whatever favor you ask," I told Sabra. "What is it you want?"
I could see the gleam of her teeth in the dark. "You have given the favor I intended to ask. May I have another?"
I rose again. "What is it?"
"A kiss."
When our lips met, it seemed I held a score of women in my arms. Myt-ser'eu was one, the queen another. The rest-and there were many more-I did not know.
When we parted, I whispered, "You are-are not as other women."
She laughed as before, chilling all my ardor. "I was a crocodile once. Perhaps you tasted it."
I watched her go toward the stern and vanish into the darkness. It may be that the panther went with her. I do not know. SOMEONE ATTACKED THE queen last night, cutting her thigh without waking her. Qanju-our leader, Myt-ser'eu says, and the oldest man on the ship-is trying to discover the culprit. The tall man Myt-ser'eu swears is a warlock was talking to the carpenter when I began writing this. He wanted the carpenter to lend him his hammer and give him seven nails. The carpenter would not lend his hammer, but offered to nail down the lid of the box the tall man wishes to close. They have gone into the hold, and I hear the blows of the carpenter's hammer.
The warlock told the king he knew the queen's attacker and would see that she was not troubled again. The king raged, wishing to kill the guilty man with his own hand; but the warlock said he could not speak the guilty name. The king would have broken his arm, and Qanju ordered me to prevent it, which I did.
This has made the king my enemy, though I know he was once my friend. I am to paint myself as his warriors do no longer. WE ARE AT Naqa, and thus in Nubia. So says my friend the captain. My men and I went through the market and the shops in search of the sword the river god tempered for me. Myt-ser'eu came too, but did not search on her own because she has forgotten my sword, to which she says she paid little heed when I had it. (She thought it large and heavy.) More signally, this is not a place in which women alone are safe.
We will sleep ashore tonight, and everyone is delighted. There is a big public building here in which travelers may stable their horses and store their goods. It has small rooms to which we must bring our own bedding. Nights on the ship were cold, I know, in spite of the day's heat; and with so many on board we slept in each other's armpits, as the captain says. Here each couple will have a room. The walls are thick mud brick, and there is a little fireplace in each. We will buy charcoal in the market, and be private, snug, and warm.