The Wadjet Eye Read Free Page A

pallet.
    Damon smoothed the fringed edge of the carpet. The pride had dwindled over time, like everything else—the anticipation of his father's return, even the love for his father. He felt nothing.
    Pivoting on his heel, he brushed the carpet with the ball of his foot. The silk threads glittered in the sun. "I must send word to my father."
    "You're going to tell him in a letter that your mother died?"
    Damon shrugged. Why did Artemas make it sound so terrible? "What else can I do?"
    "You can go to him. Tell him face to face."
    "What for?"

    "Because he's your father, and he deserves to hear it from you."
    "He doesn't care about me."
    "You don't know that."
    "Do you see my father anywhere? If he cared, he'd be here. With us."
    "I see your father everywhere." Artemas looked around the courtyard at the gifts Damon's father had sent.
    "These ...
things,
" Damon said with disgust, "don't make up for his not being here. For his never being here."
    "Your mother loved him."
    "She was going to meet him in Italy after the sowing. He retires this year. He was to claim his legionnaire's pension, a farm."
    "Then you'll go instead."
    "I have my studies."
    "When you get back, you can continue. It would be good for you to see him. Where is he now?"
    "With Caesar, always with his Caesar." Damon picked a small stone from beneath the bench and pegged it at the bust.
    Artemas grabbed his arm. "Would you show disrespect to your men of medicine? Would you toss a stone at Hippocrates? Don't dishonor a man I admire."
    "I'm sorry," Damon said. "It's just..." He closed his eyes. "I've never even been out of Alexandria."

    "It took great courage to do what you did for your mother. This trip will be nothing in comparison."
    "It's a different kind of courage."
Your kind,
thought Damon.
    "I'll go with you. Together we'll find your father."
    "What about Cleopatra's navy? I thought you were going to enlist."
    "The timbers are still not here from Byblos. It will be two years before her navy is seaworthy."
    "You would go all the way across the sea with me?" Why was he surprised? Artemas would go anywhere for no reason at all.
    "It will be an adventure, wait and see," Artemas said.
    "That's what I am afraid of."

SIX
    Artemas strode along the docks, hopping over thick hemp lines and dodging merchants who shouldered rolled-up carpets. Damon picked his way behind, tripping on nets and bumping into tall red clay amphoras that lined the boardwalks. The first ships of the season, anchored in the harbor, lay low at their water lines with full cargo holds.

    Men bartered in Greek. Damon heard very few speaking Egyptian, fewer still Latin. He would have to learn some Latin on the voyage—enough to travel the countryside at least. Enough to greet his father.
    Artemas pointed to a ship anchored near the lighthouse. "The sailors say she's headed toward Spain."
    "Spain?"
    "Caesar's forces are gathered there. That's where your father must be."
    "But
Spain?
" Damon was sure that must be near the edge of civilization. Caesar would not go so far west. What could possibly be gained?

    "She's a Roman galley for sure," Artemas went on. "Look how awkward her bow is."
    It looked like all the other ships to Damon, except a bit shabbier.
    Artemas shook his head. "Probably suffering rot-worm, too."
    Why was Artemas sounding so cheerful? "If the boat is so horrible, why are we considering it?" Damon didn't like the sound of rot-worm. He pointed to a cluster of solid-looking vessels pulling on their anchor lines. "What about one of those?"
    Artemas smiled. "You have a good eye. Those are Greek. Now we know how to build a ship. How to sail, too. Not like the Romans. No offense intended."
    "None taken. I'm sure I have no sea legs—I'll blame that on my Roman half."
Along with all my other faults,
Damon thought. "Must we take that one?"
    "I'm afraid the Roman dog is the only one going our way."
    Artemas called to a boy unloading a dinghy. "You, are you from that Roman