Steven Saylor - Raiders of the Nile

The man’s skin was quite dark. That in itself was not unusual, for many Egyptians come from a region close to the place where the sun rises, and in consequence acquire a slightly scorched look. It was not the color of his flesh but the texture that seemed so odd, for it had a dry, scaly appearance, almost reptilian. Where it reflected the luster of the lamplight, this flesh appeared to be the darkest possible shade of green. His face protruded in what could only be described as a snout, with a small nose and a very large, very wide mouth. His grin stretched from ear to ear, showing two rows of unusually sharp teeth.

Since he seemed disinclined to speak, I finally did so. “My name is Gordianus.”

He continued to study me for a moment. “A Roman?”

“Yes, but living in Alexandria. That’s where I’ve come from. The boy traveling with me is named Djet. The other boy-”

“Yes, this one I know. One of our local lads.”

“He brought us here, in search of lodgings for the night.”

“Did he? Did he, indeed? Welcome, then, to the Inn of the Hungry Crocodile. I am your host.” He took a bow.

“And are you the Hungry Crocodile?” I said, thinking to make a joke.

“Why, yessss!” he hissed. I half expected to see a reptilian tongue come flickering from between his thin lips, but he kept his tongue inside his mouth, hidden behind those rows of pointed teeth. “Can you imagine how I came by such a name?”

Nonplussed, I opened my mouth and stammered.

“Because I am notoriously hungry! Always hungry I am. And do you know what I’m hungry for?”

His grin was unnerving. Before I could answer, he produced a pair of copper coins, one between each forefinger and thumb, and held them in the lamplight for a moment before making a great show of biting them, one at a time, as if they were made not of copper but gold and he wished to test them. “Hungry for such as these, I always am! Ever and always hungry for more. You must give me such as these if you wish to spend the night.” He pressed his grinning snout toward me.

“I can do that,” I said, trying not to flinch.

“But these particular coins must be for the boy who brought you here. Here, boy, take them from me.”

The boy held out his right hand and unclenched his fist to reveal two coins already nestled in his tiny palm. The Crocodile added his two, plunking them down one at a time.

“A consideration, young man, for bringing me custom.”

The boy grinned. “Thank you! And now I have four!”

“Yessss! Two and two make four. Ah, the beauty of it!”

I frowned. “Djet! Did I not give you three coins, when I sent you to find the boy?”

He looked up at me and crossed his arms. “You did. And two of them I gave to him.”

“And the other?”

“Don’t I deserve a … what’s that you called it, innkeeper? A consideration!”

“Yessss, for all we do, such as these must constitute our consideration. It’s only right and proper.” He patted Djet on the head with a dark, scaly hand. His fingernails were dark and dull and as pointed as his teeth. “This little one is like his host, a hungry one, hungry for such as those.” He pointed to the coins, which the local boy now held tightly in his fist. “Run along, then, you, and let me make my new guests welcome.”

The boy turned and ran. I watched him leave the glow cast by the lamps and vanish into the darkness.

“Don’t stand here on the doorstep. Come inside!”

We stepped into a dimly lit vestibule. The Crocodile closed the door behind us.

The place was very quiet. “Is the inn empty?” I said.

“Not at all, not at all!”

“The other guests are all abed, then?”

“Not at all! They’re in the common room, enjoying each other’s company.”

I looked around. The vestibule opened onto a hallway, but the passage led only to shadows on either side. “I see no common room,” I said.

“Downstairs it is. Cooler down there, especially in the heat of summer.”

“It’s not summer yet.”

“Always cool down there, whatever the time of year. Nice and cool in the common room under the ground. Come, I’ll show you.” He gestured to a doorway that opened onto a descending stairway.

“I only want a room for the night, for me and the boy. We can share with others, if that’s cheaper-”

“No cheap rooms here. All rooms the same.”

“Fair enough. How much for the night? And which way to the room? I’m very tired-”

“But surely you need food and drink at the end of the day, before you sleep. Included in the price!”

“Yes, well, then…” I heard Djet’s stomach growl. “If it’s included. But what is the price? If you said, I didn’t hear-”

Even as I spoke, he ushered us down the stairs. Djet traipsed ahead of me, reached a landing, and disappeared around a corner. When I reached the turning, I saw a faint light from below and heard soft music and the sound of voices. The air was cool and dank and smelled of Egyptian beer.

“Down, down we go,” said the Crocodile, following me. “Just follow the boy.”

I rounded another corner and found myself in a subterranean chamber. The size of the room was impossible to discern, since the edges disappeared into darkness. In the zone between shadow and light, a girl sat cross-legged on the floor, strumming some sort of stringed instrument. Even by the uncertain light, I could see she was not pretty. In fact, she looked so like my host that I took her to be his young daughter.

In the middle of the room, with a lamp hung above them, five men and a boy sat on rugs in a circle. The boy was no older than Djet. He wore a bright red tunic and had curly black hair, so long that it might never have been cut. One of the men was a big fellow whom I took to be a bodyguard. While he and the boy looked on, the other four men appeared to be playing some sort of game.

As I watched, one of the players, with a cry in some barbaric language, let fly a handful of dice. The throw must have been good, for his craggy features, starkly lit by the lamp, broke into a smile of triumph as he reached forward to remove a colored wooden peg from a perforated playing board and replace it in another hole.

Framing the man’s clean-shaven face was an elaborate headdress made of cloth and knotted rope, such as the desert-dwelling Nabataeans wear. Though I couldn’t see his hair, I suspected there would be some gray in it. He wore a loose white robe belted at the waist, with long sleeves decorated with colorful embroidery at the cuffs. On several of his fingers were rings, each set with a jewel. From a necklace of thick silver links, sparkling in the lamplight, hung the largest ruby I had ever seen.

“Can you believe that fellow traveled all the way across the Delta like that?” whispered the Crocodile in my ear.

“In Nabataean garments? Is he not a Nabataean?”

“Indeed he is. He calls himself Obodas and he’s a dealer in frankincense, scouting overland routes to Alexandria-or so he says. When foreigners go traveling in Egypt, who can say what they’re up to?”

Did he include me in that question? His heavy-lidded eyes and grinning snout gave no indication.

“But when I say ‘like that,’ I mean not his Nabataean garments, but his rings and necklace-that Obodas should wear them so openly. How many coins might those be worth?” The Crocodile clicked his teeth.

“Does he not travel with bodyguards?”

“Two, and two only! One is that burly, bearded fellow who sits behind him. The other bodyguard keeps watch over their camels outside.”

“What about the boy in the red tunic who sits beside him? Is that his son?”

The Crocodile snorted. “I hardly think so! With only two bodyguards and such a pretty boy for his bedmate, all the way from Petra to my inn Obodas traveled dressed like that, flashing those jewels and making himself a target for who knows how many bandits? Some Nabataean god must be watching over this Obodas, for such a fool to cross the Delta without falling prey to the Cuckoo’s Child.”