Back out in the sun and the wind, Wahir came running up. ‘Master! I’ve found a man selling food. And I’m told that you need someone called an agent, and that Alessandra is who you want to talk to.’
They talked as they walked.
‘What does this agent do, Wahir?’
‘I was talking to a man by the horses. He said that his master always used an agent and that unless you knew exactly what you were looking for, you were going to be drugged, robbed and buried in the sand.’
‘I’m sure he did,’ said Benzamir, ‘but what does the agent do?’
‘They match buyers and sellers, for a proportion of the sale. And you hire them if you’re after something unusual. That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is. Good work, Wahir. This Alessandra . . . it’s a woman’s name.’
‘I think she’s a Ewer. Free, so the man said. Her skin is a bit like yours, a little lighter, but not that southern whiteness that makes them look like they’re dead. She’s waiting for you where they’re serving the food.’
‘Now I’m seriously impressed,’ said Benzamir. ‘Lead on.’
Wahir crowned his achievement by introducing Benzamir to the woman in a thoroughly self-important manner, putting himself as her equal, and portraying his master in such glowing terms that she might have been fooled into thinking Benzamir was a king in his own land.
Alessandra wasn’t deluded by Wahir’s fine words. She didn’t stand up for them; barely acknowledged them with her dark eyes from under her patterned headscarf. She raised a foot and pushed back a chair. Benzamir took this as permission to sit with her.
He undid his purse and handed a fistful of coppers to Said. ‘Get yourselves something. Mistress?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said.
‘Will you be all right, master?’ asked Said, weighing the money in his hand.
‘I’m sure my virtue will be perfectly safe, Said. I’ll call if I need you.’ Benzamir sat in the proffered chair and looked out at the pyramids, framed between two tent poles.
‘You came with Selah. Him, I trust. Who are you?’
‘Benzamir Michael Mahmood.’
‘Which tells me nothing about what you are or where you’re from. Your boy does you credit, though. I’m to believe you’re a powerful man from a faraway land who’s come looking for traces of the Users.’
‘More or less the gist of it.’ Benzamir tried to guess her age and her experience. ‘You’re highly recommended.’
‘Of course I am. I know all these scoundrels, and what they’ve got stashed away in their strong boxes. No matter how much they protest, they’ll always part with it for a price.’ She twisted her lips into a rare smile. ‘What is it that you’re looking for – and failing to find, I might add.’
Benzamir played with his fingers. ‘How are you on professional confidences?’
Alessandra was taken aback. ‘Are you doubting my integrity?’ Her muscles tensed, readying her to get up and go.
‘I’m sorry,’ apologized Benzamir. ‘That isn’t what I wanted to say at all.’ He waited for her to ease back into her chair before continuing. ‘If I told you that I wanted User knowledge – maps, books, machines – would you tell someone else who asked about me what I was looking for?’
‘No.’
‘Good.’ He slid his purse across the table, and was silent while she checked its contents.
‘You are joking.’ She looked up at him and tossed the bag back contemptuously.
He sighed. ‘That’s a pity. Sorry to have wasted your time.’ He gave a little bow with his head and put his hands on the arms of his chair. ‘Pleasure to have met you, mistress.’
‘Oh, sit down, Mahmood. It’s not like business is so good that I can’t trade a few hints with you.’ She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. ‘Coffee.’
Benzamir was distracted by a distant figure. ‘That’s Wahir. What’s he doing up there?’ He was starting to climb the Khufu pyramid.
Alessandra reached under her clothing and gave him her telescope, an oiled brass tube with hand-ground lenses at either end. He admired it briefly, before putting it to his eye.
‘I suppose he was going to do it sooner or later. It’s just too tempting.’
‘He’ll climb halfway up, get scared and come back down. I’ve done it once, and it’s surprisingly steep.’
‘But you went all the way to the top, didn’t you?’ Benzamir closed the telescope and handed it back.
‘Of course. Where are you really from?’
‘East of here, along the coast. My people lived in the mountains there.’ Benzamir reached forward for his purse, and Alessandra trapped his hand on top of it.
‘Live, or lived? In which case, where do they live now?’
‘I’m hiding things from you, for which I apologize. The people I’m looking for would like to find me as much as I’d like to find them.’
‘I don’t have to talk to you.’ She took the tray of coffee from the boy, put it on the table and waited for the answer.
‘We live on our ships, and we sail the oceans. We’re a people without a land, but we’ve been away so long, all land looks strange.’
Alessandra snorted at his reply. ‘I’ve never heard of you, and I make it my business to have heard of everything. You know the emperor of Kenya lays claim to User machines?’
‘That’ll explain why no one will admit to having any.’
‘There was something earlier this year. Two, three moons ago maybe. A book. It was in circulation, passing from hand to hand because no one knew quite what to make of it, or what to do with it.’ She poured the coffee into two cups, took hers and cradled it in her hands.
‘What sort of book?’
‘A metal book. Full of writing no one could read; full of pictures.’ She swallowed coffee, looked around for eavesdroppers and lowered her voice. ‘Some of the pictures moved. Just a little, as if they were trapped in the page and couldn’t get out. And each page was a thin sheet of something that no one had seen before. Couldn’t cut it, couldn’t burn it. Very strong. Because no one could do anything with it or make anything out of it, it had a curiosity value. Who bought it last?’ She tried to remember.
‘Who sold it first?’
‘I don’t know. It just appeared. The digger I saw with it said he’d bought it from a Kenyan, so where he’d got it from I’ve no idea. You tend not to ask too many questions of the emperor’s subjects.’
‘Sorry – just a moment . . .’ said Benzamir. Wahir was coming down the side of the pyramid much too quickly. He used Alessandra’s telescope and trained the lenses on him. Wahir looked scared half to death. ‘We’re going to have to go. Said!’
In a moment Said was at his side. ‘Master?’
‘Apologies, Mistress Alessandra. Your telescope.’ He handed it back and started running towards the pyramid.
CHAPTER 18
BENZAMIR MANAGED TO get to Wahir before he fell. They slid a way down the side of the pyramid, finally jarring to a halt against a block of stone.
‘Slow down. You’ll kill yourself.’
Wahir took a deep breath. ‘Chariots,’ he said.
‘I know.’
‘To the north.’
‘Wahir, I know.’ Benzamir made certain that the boy wasn’t going to slip down any further and climbed up a little way. In the distance he saw a dust cloud, rising to the sky and obscuring everything behind it. But in the foreground, following the line of the flood plain, was a horde of chariots, their horses already at the trot.
‘There must be a couple of hundred of them,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that an amazing sight?’
‘What are we going to do?’ gasped Wahir.
‘Apart from look at them?’
‘Master! It’s an army. Look where they’re heading.’
‘You spoil all my fun,’ said Benzamir. If he concentrated, he could hear them: hooves pounding, wheels clattering, traces jingling. They were coming straight towards them at a speed that didn’t inspire confidence. They weren’t advancing. They were attacking. ‘Right. Let’s get off this pyramid for a start.’