XVI. City of the Living

The sorceress flipped the piece of flatbread over and over in her hands. She stared into the night above the campfire, then looked back at the uneaten bread in her hands. Finally, she took a small, unwilling bite, knowing she'd have need of all her strength soon enough. But a choked cough escaped her throat, and Cassandra gave up on eating.

She glanced at her companion. "You know, I was in love with Memnon once."

Arpid gaped at Cassandra across the small fire in the sand. "You--but... Why?"

"A long time ago, I had a vision. It was one of my first, and I didn't know then how changeable they could be." A pair of mules stood just inside the firelight, pack animals that the thief had procured. One of them stamped, and the other whickered back. "In my vision, I was the beloved of a handsome, dashing hero king." She laughed, but there was a bitter edge to it. "The dreams of a little girl."

Arpid tossed a couple more dry twigs onto the fire, then laid back down on his bedroll. "What has happened to Mathayus, lady? He hates the whole world."

"Not the world. He hates himself. He blames himself for Menes' death." Cassandra drew her thin blanket tighter around her shoulders. "I miss Menes terribly. I miss him as much as I do Philos. Did you ever have a family, Arpid?"

The thief grinned. "Although I am sure there was once a woman who brought me into the world, alas, I cannot remember the blessed event." He paused, and his grin evaporated. "I was taken from the streets in my youth by the priests of Set."

Cassandra smiled up at the stars, blinking back tears. "I was there when Memnon killed Mathayus' brother. We both know the lengths he'll go to for revenge."

Somewhere far away, a jackal ki-yied. Cassandra shivered. Anubis must be smiling tonight, she thought. The sound of the gate guards' dying shrieks, as she and Arpid had fled the city and the horrors she'd called up, filled her mind, and Cassandra shivered again. I've given him many souls.

"Sorceress, I have served Set for as long as I can remember. He loves chaos and treachery. But there is nothing he loves more than bringing a king low. His hand was with us in the fight against Memnon, and he will be with us when Mathayus falls." Arpid heaved a sigh. "He is my god, and I am his priest. It is my duty to follow his will."

He was silent for a long time. Then: "I miss them, too. And I miss our Akkadian."

"You hate him," Cassandra said softly, her voice nearly blending into the murmur of the fire. "Don't you? You hate Set."

The little thief looked pointedly at the bread sitting limp in Cassandra's hands. "You should eat, sorceress. And sleep. We have a long walk to Thebes."

* * *

The city of Amun would rise golden under the midday sun. Isis knew this because she'd seen Thebes once before, when she and Balthazar had come to plead for the king's help to fight Memnon. Now, though, the full moon laved the city in cold silver, as cold as the king's heart had been toward the barbarian peoples Memnon enslaved. "These are not the children of my gods," the king of Thebes had said.

Isis stumbled half asleep up to the night-locked gates, not sure whether her surviving few were with her, but too tired to care. She was sick; sick with fear and sorrow, with the taste of blood that had not left her mouth since this whole madness had begun.

Gomorrah was closed to them, that much she knew. That much she could understand from the wasteland around the walls of the once great city. Nephthys' pennant was the one thing Isis and her warriors had been able to distinguish in the ashes.

Treachery.

Isis wondered if the sands of Gomorrah had drunk Balthazar's blood, too. She let her heart sink into the dry desert chill and waited for the sunrise. The god-king and his priests would hear her plea this time. Proud Thebes would never fall to the storm that Mathayus had become.

Her eyelids fell shut under the weight of exhaustion, but Isis snapped awake again. In the faint glimmer of false dawn, a lone figure staggered along the dusty road some distance away. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stared until tears pricked.

It was Nephthys, and she was alone.

* * *

They entered Thebes as an immigrant family. Cassandra wore a linen veil over her long hair; Arpid led the mule his "wife" was riding.

They didn't make it far past the gates.

A shout from someone in the bustling streets, and suddenly the pair were surrounded by sword- and mace-wielding soldiers. Cassandra bit her lip and shared a frightened glance with Arpid.

"You are the sorceress Cassandra?" one of the men asked. "Consort to King Scorpion and mother of Sodom and Gomorrah?"

Cassandra blinked and felt herself go pale. "I..." Looking about, she caught sight of a familiar face. Isis was angry, angrier than the sorceress had ever seen the warrior queen. And would I be any less angry if my husband had been murdered? If blood of my blood was betrayed? She crossed her arms protectively and nodded to the man. "I am."

"You'll come with us now, sorceress."

The sorceress looked back at Isis. "Am I to be executed?" The queen's sister appeared beside her, and the two women embraced tightly before melting into the Theban crowds.

"It's Pharaoh's place to decide your fate, not mine."

* * *

The king wandered through the silent halls of his palace. Despite the morning bustle in the streets, the palace itself echoed voicelessly. The dead had been taken away after the plague of serpents had finally vanished. Mathayus fisted his hands and cursed. Cassandra--what had she been thinking?

"My lord..."

Mathayus turned around to find his only surviving scribe following him. The man looked pale, but after the previous night, the king couldn't blame him. "Yes?"

"There is someone... A man--"

"Get to the point, Nakhtmin."

"His men speak for him. He is very weak, they say you will know why. And they say he comes to throw himself on your mercy."

The king scowled. "I don't understand."

"He is..." Nakhtmin gestured helplessly. "My lord--he is wearing the Anubis bracelet."