Gene Wolfe - Soldier of Sidon

"Does this man guard you well, little cat?"

"Oh, yes! He's loving, strong, very brave."

"It is well you spoke so. You have my blessing, little cat."

"Thank you, sir." Myt-ser'eu bowed. (There was no hint of mockery in that bow, though I think such mockery must often be found in her words and gestures.) "You should bless him, sir. Bless Latro."

"He is already blessed." The stranger spoke to me. "My name is Arensnuphis, Latro."

I said, "Well met!"

"So you must speak of me. I have other names in other places and for other men, just as you do. I require your help. Will you give it?"

"Certainly," I said, "if I can."

"Latro must do as Thotmaktef directs," Myt-ser'eu put in hastily. "Holy Thotmaktef is his commander."

Thotmaktef came to us at once. It may be that he came because he heard his name, but I felt that Arensnuphis had brought him; I cannot explain this.

"I am Thotmaktef," he said, and bowed.

"I am Onuris," Arensnuphis said, and rose. He is two heads taller than I, and his headdress of bright feathers makes him appear taller still. His weapons: a net, and a spear as tall as he.

Now he speaks with Thotmaktef, Alala, and Myt-ser'eu, and I no longer recall our making camp last night or which horse is mine, though I remember that I remembered both these things not long ago. Thotmaktef wishes everyone to help Arensnuphis, and suggests many ways in which it might be done. He wants only me, and tells the rest in many ways that their help is not needed. He does not say how he wishes me to help him, but I know he will tell me when the time is ripe. HERE WE HALTED early because of the rain. It does not wet Arensnuphis, but he halted for my sake. I brought a little food, and there is water in plenty running from the rocks. I have drunk my fill.

Already the grass is greener.

He kindled a fire for me in the shelter of this great stone, a fire of dried dung, for there is no wood in this land-no wood at all. He bid me read all this before sunset. Now I have, beginning with Muslak, the ship, and the temple. I know now where I have been, though not who I am nor how I came to be as I am.

Arensnuphis stands upon one leg, on the hilltop in the rain. His plumes are not wet, and so bright that I can make out their colors from where I sit. He wears the sunrise.

We hunt his wife, Mehit, whom he must catch again and tame each year at this time. He wishes my help because I will see her among the hills though other men do not, a young lioness, shining and very great.

I have seen other gods, gods of whom I have read here. None could have been as fine as he, the Good Companion who kindled fire for me.

Set is god of the south. So I read not long ago. I am in the south, I think.

Twice today we saw black cattle. The herdsmen are dark, their horses of many colors, their dogs as black as the cattle they drive, sharp-eared as wolves, long-legged and very swift. They saw me and came toward me, then seemed to forget me and turn away. Arensnuphis did that, I feel sure. They do not see or wind him. He told me this. At his word they no longer saw me, and forgot me at once. So I believe. WE CAPTURED HER. I saw her pug-marks in the mud, and we tracked her many miles.*

She was a lioness of gold, the most beautiful animal ever seen, and it was I who drove her into Arensnuphis's net, shouting and waving my sword. She could not understand how it was I saw her. I read it in her eyes.

This I will not believe when I read again. I know I will not, yet I write only the truth. When Arensnuphis had netted her, he drove his spear into her. She did not bleed, but rose and was a lovely woman as tall and dark as he, clad in a lion's skin. They embraced and were gone.

Her lion's skin she left behind. At first, I feared to touch it. When I touched it at last, it vanished slowly as a morning mist of gold, leaving a single hair that shines very bright. I have rolled it into this scroll so that I may find it another day and remember. *A mile was one thousand double steps as marched by a Roman soldier: miles militis. Thus it is close kin to words like military and militia, and to the given name Milo. The narrator actually wrote "m."

THERE IS LITTLE light and less comfort. Our friend Kames brought me this scroll, with the reed brushes and a block of ink, all in a leather case. I wet the brush with my drinking water, of which we have too little, and write so that he can watch me. He is rarely here, but Myt-ser'eu has told him I wrote so often, and wrote everything on this scroll. He tells me much of her and says this. So does the man who comes and goes, and Thotmaktef. MYT-SER'EU CAME. SHE is my wife, Thotmaktef says. He had told me something of her before, but neither how beautiful she is nor how young. She kissed me, after which we spoke in whispers. She is very frightened. She has been taken by force more than once, and talks of killing the men who did it. I told her she could not, that it was a man's work and I will do it.

As I will.

She brought more water. We thanked her, and asked for more. I asked for another lamp, too. It is dark here, save when they bring torches and make us dig. I am able to write these things because the man who comes and goes brought more oil for the lamp he brought us before. He wants me to read this. I have read of a plumed god and many other things. KAMES CAME TO warn me. He says one of my men has told them about the bald man, saying he is my servant. He says they will question me about him. While he was with us in the mine, the priest's wife came. They forced her, she says, but fear her because she is of the Medjay. I asked about these Medjay, and they are the herdsmen I read of in this scroll. The prince said this, and that they were his forefathers' people, long ago. Now he digs like the rest of us.

Soon guards came and brought me to this hut by the smelter. They asked me about the case that holds this, and when I showed them what was in it they tried to take it. I killed them, striking them with my chain and strangling them afterward. I have their daggers now-two long blades. If someone else comes by day, I will kill him as well. When night comes I will go out, and we will see. THE MAN WHO got away came. He is so silent that he stood before me before I knew he had come. They are looking for the two I killed, he said. Soon they will look here. I will fight until they kill me. THERE WAS NOISE outside and much excited talk. I heard Kames's voice. He was speaking, first in one tongue and then in another. A woman spoke. Perhaps she was the Myt-ser'eu I have read about. She was not the priest's wife-I remember that voice. This woman spoke loudly, and her tones were less soft.

It is nearly dark. Someone plays a lute. URAEUS AND I carried away the dead men and hid them among the rocks. These Nubians do not keep good watch. He wished to steal horses and go for help. I said I would not leave the others. I told him to steal a horse and bring whatever help he could. He did not wish to leave me, but I ordered him to go. He is my slave, he says. He said there would surely be a guard on the horses and asked whether he might kill him. I told him to kill anyone who tried to prevent him from carrying out my order. URAEUS RETURNED. THERE are no horses. There is little grass here, he says, and they may have been taken where there is better grazing. Shortly before sundown he left me to look.

The sun set, and I went out. Four with spears came to this hut, and there was much loud talk. I wanted to go back into the mine, but there is a fire before it and guards with spears, shields, and swords. The new woman was talking at the big fire. I crept nearer to listen. She spoke the tongue of Kemet. Then Kames spoke as Nubians do. Another spoke, and Kames told her-and me-what had been said. So it went.