House of Illusions Read Free Page B

cast a sidelong glance at my Herald.
    “Kamen,” she repeated. “Spirit of Men. Might I suppose that Men is your father’s name?”
    “You might,” I said tersely. “And I might suppose that you are making fun of me. I too thank you for the food, but my duty is the care of this Herald and he is tired.” I rose. “Be pleased to take your dishes and retire.” At once she also scrambled to her feet, much to my relief, and picked up her tray, but I was not to be reprieved so easily.
    “I have a favour to ask of you, officer Kamen,” she said, “a package to be delivered to the King. I am poor and cannot afford to pay. Will you take it for me?” Oh gods, I thought in exasperation. I felt shame for her as I shook my head.
    “I am sorry, Lady, but I do not have access to the palace,” I replied and she sighed and turned away.
    “I expected nothing more,” she called back over her shoulder. “What has Egypt come to, when the powerful will not hearken to the pleas of the destitute? It is no use asking you, Herald May, for you have refused me before. Sleep well!” Her scornful laughter trailed after her and then there was silence.
    “Witless creature!” my Lord said curtly. “Set your watch, Kamen.” He strode off in the direction of the boat, and I signalled to my soldier and began to fling sand onto the fire. The food was souring in my belly.
    I chose the second watch, gave my soldier the perimeters of his patrol, and retired with my blanket under the trees, but I could not sleep. The murmur of the sailors’ voices slowly died away. No sound came from the village and only an occasional muted splash revealed the presence of the river as some nocturnal animal went about its quiet business. The sky above me, latticed by branches, pulsed with stars.
    I should have been content. I was on my way home to my family and my betrothed, Takhuru. I had successfully completed my first military assignment. I was healthy and vigorous, rich and intelligent. Yet, as I lay there, a restless sadness began to steal over me. I turned over in the sand, closing my eyes, but the earth beneath me seemed harder than usual, grinding against my hip and shoulder. I heard my soldier pace close and then stroll away. I turned again, but it was no good. My mind stayed alert.
    I got up, strapped on my sword, and stepped through the trees onto the river road. It was deserted, a ribbon of greyness running through a shrouding of palms and acacia. I hesitated but had no real desire to see the village, which would differ little from a thousand others fronting the Nile from the Delta to the Cataracts of the south. I turned right, feeling increasingly insubstantial as the dark outline of the temple appeared limned in moonlight and the palm fronds above me whispered their dry night song. The water in the canal was black and motionless. I stood on its paved edge for a moment, staring down at my own featureless pale reflection. I did not want to go back to the river. I swung left and walked beside the temple wall. All at once I was skirting a ramshackle hut that leaned against the rear of the temple and before me the desert opened out, rolling in moondrenched waves to the horizon. A line of palms marking the edge of Aswat’s fragile cultivated land meandered away on my left, such a weak bastion holding back the sand, and all of it dim yet stark in the all-pervading streams of moonlight.
    I did not notice her at first, not until she emerged from the deep shadow of a dune and glided across the ground. Naked, arms raised, head thrown back, I took her to be one of the dead whose tombs are untended and who wander the night desiring revenge on the living. But she was dancing with such vitality that my thrill of terror vanished. Her straining, flexing body seemed the colour of the moon himself, blue-white, and the cloud of her hair was a patch of blackness moving with her. I knew I should retire, knew I was witnessing a very private ecstasy, but I was rooted