Furies (51 page)

“How’s Dryton?” Aculeo asked.

“No better. I was up with him most of the night – the arrow seems to have done its job too well I’m afraid.”

“Poor fellow,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Ralla’s done his job also. Capito never returned home – he must have been taken. Ralla’s guards watch Calisto’s villa like a hawk. Xanthias, Gellius and Pesach are also missing.”

“Ah.”

“The documents I had linking Ralla to the farm were stolen. Likely the Titles Office deeds as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t already had Callixenes murdered.”

“Clever man,” Sekhet mused. “He’s slipped the net quite neatly.”

“I should have gotten everyone out of Alexandria days ago when I had the chance,” Aculeo said bitterly. “We’ll never be able to leave safely now – the city gates and harbours are surely being watched.”

“There are always ways. You just need to clear your head.”

“I need to talk to Calisto.”

“And how exactly do you intend to do that?” Sekhet snapped. “If what you say is true, Ralla’s simply sitting back, waiting for you to try such a foolish thing.”

“What else can I do? I’ve nothing left!”

“There’s something else that might interest you.” She took out a leather pouch and tipped it onto the scarred wooden table, spilling out half a dozen oily dark spheres, their potent incense smell filling the little room.

“More opium,” he said, looking at her in surprise. “Where did you get it?”

“Dryton was suffering terribly last night. He was unresponsive to anything else I had. So I went to the Agora and found a Cosian merchant who had a substantial inventory on hand. I inquired where I might get more, he mentioned a supplier in Canopus. A fellow Cosian it turns out.”

“Posidippus?”

“That’s the name he gave, yes,” Sekhet said with a smile. “It seems your old colleague has risen from the dead.”

“I need to get to Canopus.”

“One of my nephews can take you as far as Demanhur on his fishing barge. A thirty stade walk to Canopus from there, but the harbour in Demanhur is small and unguarded which should give you one less thing to worry about. But you’ll need to leave right away.”

“You’re brilliant,” Aculeo said, embracing the old woman.

“So many wondrous revelations in one morning,” Sekhet said.

Aculeo started towards the door, then turned around. “Promise me something.”

“I’m too old to make rash promises.”

“Watch out for Calisto and the girls while I’m gone,” he said. “I need to know they’re safe.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Sekhet was silent for a moment. “Have you given thought to what you and Calisto might do when all this is over? Assuming you’re still alive, of course.”

“We’ll leave Alexandria, live out our lives in peace somewhere, far away from all this madness.”

“A pleasant dream,” she acknowledged. “And Calisto shares it, does she?”

Aculeo narrowed his eyes in irritation. “Sekhet, please, just watch out for them, will you?”

The healer considered him for a moment, then gave a reluctant nod.

Dusk was falling when the barge finally reached Demanhur, the last vestiges of daylight draining from the sky. Sekhet’s nephew steered towards the makeshift harbour, a rough wooden dock at the end of a dirt road.

“May the gods be with you,” the young man said as Aculeo stepped onto the dock.

I’d feel safer if they kept to themselves for a change, Aculeo thought and looked about the dusty looking palm grove where a small settlement of Egyptian-style buildings seemed to have risen whole from the muddy banks of the broad canal. The only signs of civilization were the priapic wooden Hermes posts that lined the road to Canopus. He set out down the road.

He heard the raucous sounds of nightlife from town well before he stepped foot on its streets an hour or so later, the strains of flute and lyre and the drunken voices of the revellers echoing across the dark, sloshing waters of the canal that bordered the dusty road. Canopus was essentially a playground for wealthy Alexandrians, soldiers on leave and tourists looking for a fun night out on the town. Aculeo could see the lights from countless taverns that had been built out over the murky-smelling lagoon. Musicians played from barges well-stocked with food and wine to serenade and serve their boisterous patrons, whose little round boats drifted about the lagoon through tangled islands of lotus.

Aculeo rented himself a room at a dingy little inn at the edge of town, then visited a dozen taverns along the waterfront over the next several hours, asking for information on Posidippus of Cos. While a number of people were willing to sell him virtually anything else he might be looking for, no one seemed to know anything about the Cosian. Or would admit to it at least. He left them each with a promise of reward for the information and the name of the inn where he could be found. He was taking his chances being so open, he knew, but desperation won out over caution. Time was running out.

Exhausted and out of options, Aculeo returned to the inn and fell into bed. He’d just drifted off, having learned to ignore the stench of dry-rot that pervaded the room, when a knock came at the door. He slid out of bed, listening at the door for a moment. The knock came again, more urgent this time. He opened the door – a plump, furtive little fellow he’d talked with in a tavern that night quickly pushed his way into the room.

“Close the door, will you,” the man said, nervously eyeing about the room. “I know where you can find Posidippus of Cos.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when we spoke earlier?” Aculeo asked.

The man snorted. “You can wander about Canopus all day and night blabbing about the damned Cosian to anyone who might care to listen, but I’d like to keep my head attached to my neck, thank you. Ten silver sesterces, right?” he said, touching Aculeo’s travelling satchel with an appraising eye.

“Put that down. I said five.”

“Let’s call it eight.”

“Six. Now where is he?”

“Pay me first.”

“I don’t think so,” Aculeo said.

“Then never mind,” the little man said, and turned to go.

“Wait,” Aculeo said, taking some coins out of his purse. “I’ll pay you three now. The other three after you take me to him.”

The man considered it for a moment, licking his lips. And finally, “Alright, then, let’s go.”

They headed out into the street, the street torches burning low by now, the songs and cries more raucous then ever as the night unwound. The town never slept – its stinking streets churning with drunks, gamblers, government workers and pornes
spilling out of the taverns to find their next drink. Aculeo’s erstwhile guide led him down some back streets where eventually the rough crowds thinned to a scattered few.

They made their way down to the main harbour district, then to the docklands. The jetties were filled with boats of all shapes and sizes, rocking in the waves, past dark warehouses, pens of livestock, the beggars and riffraff that made their beds there watching them warily as they passed.

“Posidippus lives here?” Aculeo said dubiously, keeping his hand on his knife.

“Just hurry up,” the man said.

They came at last to a
deserted-looking building at the edge of the docklands, the sound of rats scuttling into the darkness, the only light coming from the flickering torchlight and the stars overhead.

“This is it then,” the man said. “Pay me the balance now.”

“Where’s Posidippus?”

“He’ll be here soon.”

“So will your payment then,” Aculeo said, moving towards the edge of the dock, gazing into the darkness, the sound of the waves slapping against the jetty. He looked back towards the west. He could see the fire from Pharos even from here, like a golden eye glittering against the blackness of the night. You can’t escape it easily. He thought of Calisto and the girls, wondering whether they’d make it out of this ghastly mess safely, out of Ralla’s clutches.

“So when is Posidippus coming?” he asked finally as he turned around. The little man was gone – he was alone. He heard something to his left, a creak of the boards of the jetty, a blur of movement towards him … the back of his head exploded in pain and everything crashed into a sea of blackness.

Aculeo choked and gagged as cold, brackish water filled his mouth and seeped into his lungs. He struggled to move but something was pinning his arms and legs. Dark starbursts exploded in his head. He thrashed and twisted, trying desperately to free himself as it all began to slip away …

Rough hands dragged him from the water and dropped him on the muddy shore. Aculeo crouched on his hands and knees, coughing and retching but alive at least. Someone kicked him hard in the ribs, once, then again until he rolled onto his back. He blinked up at them, trying to make out the features of the three figures looming over him in the darkness.

“Why are you here?” a man’s voice growled.

“Depends,” Aculeo said, still coughing. “Who the fuck are you?” One man nodded to the others, who seized Aculeo and dragged him back into the water. “No!” he cried. “No, wait!”

He managed to gasp a single breath as they forced him under. He clung to it desperately until his lungs felt like they’d burst. He roared in impotent rage when they hauled him back up and threw him in the stinking mud.

“Still want to play games?” the man asked.

“Fuck you … up the ass,” Aculeo gasped.

The man knelt down in the mud beside him, grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up – his axe-thin face cold, merciless, considering Aculeo with detached puzzlement. “Old Corvinus always said your tongue was faster than your wits, Aculeo. You’ve come to kill me, haven’t you?”

“Posidippus … I didn’t come to kill you, dammit, I came to ask your help!”

Posidippus gave a gap-toothed grin, then struck him sharply across the face. “You lie more than a Persian porne, Roman.”

“I’m just looking for answers.” The Cosian struck him again, his gold rings cutting Aculeo’s cheek open, the warm coppery tang of blood trickling across his lips. “Will you stop doing that.”

“Asshole. How’d you even find me?”

“You did a poor job covering your tracks. The opium dealers in Alexandria knew where you were.”

“You’re a lying son of a poxed cunt whore,” the Cosian said, then drew a knife from his belt and placed the cold blade casually alongside Aculeo’s throat, sending a shiver of fear coursing down his spine. “Last chance, Roman – Gurculio sent you after me, didn’t he?”