118.
Chapter 10.
Please Do Not Step on the Butterflies
Time goes, you say? Ah no!
Alas, Time stays, we go.
(Austin Dobson, The Paradox of Time The Paradox of Time) Pharaoh sat with a bowl of wine in his hand. From time to time he took a sip.
This evening, at this moment, the wine tasted especially good.
A woman was fighting his trio of guards, turning and twisting like a dust devil. She was silent, making no sound when a blow struck, even when the tip of a khopesh khopesh cut a long gash in her leg. cut a long gash in her leg.
Pharaoh had wondered briefly if this was some sort of audition. He'd heard about a foreign woman who fought like a soldier, and who wanted to join his army.
That was before she killed the first guard, ripping his own sword out of his hands and slamming it right through his chest. The hooked point protruded from his back, and he stumbled backward, gurgling, and fell onto a table. A pair of wine jars shattered beneath his body, and redness spread onto the floor around him.
She fought the way a dancer might fight. She ducked and wove, almost too quickly for his eyes to trace her movements. His bodyguards' bulging muscles and heavy swords were no use in such close, agile combat.
She jammed an elbow into the throat of one of the remaining guards. In the instant he spent being startled by the pain, she had flicked the arch of her foot into his groin, twisted her hips as she slammed her knuckles into his bruised windpipe. He fell, knocking his companion down.
The remaining soldier scrabbled away from the woman, snatching for his fallen sword.
'Who fails the test,' said the woman, 'feeds the Devourer.'
She grabbed the khopesh khopesh away from his groping fingers and slashed it through the air, once, twice. The third arc sliced through the guard's cheek, cutting a second mouth. She had slit his throat with the point before he was even able to scream. away from his groping fingers and slashed it through the air, once, twice. The third arc sliced through the guard's cheek, cutting a second mouth. She had slit his throat with the point before he was even able to scream.
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The battle finished, she straightened, turned to Pharaoh. Her hair was wild and stuck to her forehead and face, her pale skin was flushed. She held her blade like a butcher.
Pharaoh started to laugh.
Bernice lay on a stretcher in Vivant's tent. He had been watching her around the clock, sleeping beside her on a military cot, bringing her water and changing the dressing on her wound.
She had been sleeping solidly for two days or was it three? There had been no dreams. Good. There was only the song in the back of her mind.
Come here, come here, come here.
She stirred. Vivant was by her side in moments, laying a wet compress on her forehead. 'Don't try to get up,' he said.
Benny felt around her shoulder. 'How bad is it?'
'Not very bad at all,' he said soothingly. 'Our surgeon says that the bullet struck at an angle, and did not penetrate deeply. The skin is torn, there was a lot of blood, but it will not be necessary to amputate.'
'Amputate!'
' Une plaisanterie, Une plaisanterie, ' said Vivant. 'Just a joke. Do lie still.' ' said Vivant. 'Just a joke. Do lie still.'
'My diary!' she said. 'Oh no, Vivant, they took it. They killed those poor men. They smashed the wall, they took the sketch I made.'
'They also killed the bartender perhaps because he told me where you had gone. Qu' ils aillent au diable, ces Mahometans Qu' ils aillent au diable, ces Mahometans!
Benny shook her head, angrily. 'They're not Islamic. They're some sort of Dynastic survival. An underground cult dedicated to the return of Set survived into the twentieth century.'
'Is that so?' said Vivant. 'Perhaps you should have another glass of water.'
'Er, yes,' said Benny, blushing.
Vivant sat down next to the stretcher. 'I have seen to it that a payment has been made to the murdered handlers' families. Bonaparte will not miss a few hundred francs.'
'I should have gone alone. It's not fair to put anyone else into danger. None of this is fair! How are we going to find the Graffito?'
Vivant helped her to sit up. Her shoulder was sore, but she was obviously going to live. 'There's some medicine in my bag,' she said, 'it'll help prevent septicaemia.'
'The surgeon says there's no sign of poisoning of the blood,' said Vivant, but he picked up the travel bag anyway.
Benny opened the zipper, clutching the bag to her chest so that the artist couldn't see inside. He watched as she pulled out some strange pills and 120 swallowed two of them. 'Do you know, Mlle Summerfield,' he murmured, 'you are a very mysterious woman. I would like to know more of your secrets.'
Benny looked at him over the top of her travel bag, hesitating. Their eyes met for a long moment.
'Now, if I told you them, they wouldn't be secrets any more, would they?'
she said softly, and tugged the zipper shut.
'You could at least have the common courtesy to be afraid.'
Ace's face was lit from beneath by a brazier. The warm light barely reached the walls of the cave, casting deep red shadows that faded into blackness. She sat cross-legged, her khopesh khopesh balanced across her lap. balanced across her lap.
Pharaoh raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. His hands were tied in front of him, and he sat awkwardly with his back against the wall. He looked just like the sculpture she had vandalized, long face, full lips. His eyes glinted with a very nasty sense of humour.
She'd trussed him like a chicken and chucked him into a chariot and sped off even as the alarm was being raised. The Setites contributed to the chaos by milling about shouting nonsense, tripping people up and asking stupid questions. The palace had sounded like a receding circus as her horse pelted across the desert, following a trail of torches. Each time she passed one she shot an arrow into it, knocking it from its stand and extinguishing it.
The horse had taken a tumble a klick from the cave, breaking its leg in a deep hole. She and Akhenaten had been thrown from the chariot, rolling over the stones. She'd put an arrow through the horses' head, untied the bruised Pharaoh's feet and dragged him to the cave.
The cut in her thigh wasn't too bad. In fact, given her opponents, she had done exceptionally well.
She ought to be proud of herself.
'I understand,' said Pharaoh.
Ace had been staring into the brazier. She looked up at Akhenaten. 'What?'
'You want to make your name part of history. To be written down in the records as the one who killed Pharaoh.'
Ace shook her head. 'You don't look dead.'
'Don't be obtuse. Your allies aren't going to keep me alive any longer than they have to; as the legitimate ruler, I'm too much of a threat to them.'
'They plan to exile you. Establish a new Dynasty.'
'Of course.' He was smirking! 'That's what it's all about. History. Nothing ever changes here. Egypt has no history just a list of kings, a scribbled record of wars. I'm not going to be just another name on that list. And neither are you.' His lips curved into a half-smile. 'Who's paying you?'
'It '
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'No, let me guess. The army promised you a position if you'd kill me.'
'This isn't a game.'
'Then perhaps the Amunites offered you what's left of their fortunes to dispose of me. A foreign, female assassin. Very ostentatious, I like it.'
Her face twisted. 'You're a tyrant. I wreck tyrants. You won't let anyone worship the way they want to.'
'Pharaoh is always a tyrant. Because it's Pharaoh's task to keep Egypt in order. Do you really think we could do without that order, without measure-ments and records and laws?'
'Maybe you overestimate their importance, mate.'
'There are three hundred and sixty-five offering tables outside the palace I built for my Father. One for every day of the year, heavy with food and drink.
That bounty is the direct result of my rule. I'm the vessel through whom Aten gives the people life.'
'The people don't worship Aten, you know. They still worship the gods you've banned.'
Akhenaten's eyes were hard in the red light. 'It hardly matters what super-stitions the peasants entertain. My religion is for Pharaoh, not for them.'
Ace's sigh echoed. 'You talk too much.'
'I've been talking since I ascended to the throne. Explaining, over and over.'
'Why explain anything to an assassin?'
'Ah,' he said. 'You used the word.'
Ace stiffened. 'I meant '
'You're worth talking to because we're equals. Equals in the eyes of history.
I am the most extraordinary Pharaoh who has ever lived.'
'I'm not here for your crukking autograph.' There was that glint in his eyes again, like metal. 'You are crazy.'
He grinned, fleshy lips pulling back from his teeth. 'I'm a god.'
'I've met lots of gods,' said Ace. She stirred the coals in the brazier with a stick. 'They're boring. They never have any depth, like cartoon characters.
Not like real people at all.'
'The priests don't worship me. They hate me for taking away their power.'
'Look, shut up, alright? I'm not interested.'
'The army hates me because I'm not running about conquering hairy no-mads in the desert.'
'You just let foreign princes walk in and take whatever they like!'
Akhenaten shook his head. 'You don't know anything about it. Egypt's foreign lands administer themselves, they have their own armies. I need my troops here. Where they can keep an eye on the priests, and I can keep an eye on them.'
'You should have kept a few more then, shouldn't you?' said Ace pointedly.
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Pharaoh laughed. 'But I was expecting you.'
'You what?'
'The Setites have been plotting on and off for months. They were just waiting for someone disposable to come along. Someone who'd follow their orders.'
Ace roared and was on her feet, clutching the khopesh khopesh in furious hands. He just sat there chuckling. She was losing control, she could feel it. in furious hands. He just sat there chuckling. She was losing control, she could feel it.
No, she had already lost control. She had let herself be controlled. Like a good soldier, she was only following orders.
Her head buzzed and she held the sword, held the sword. She could work out what to do, she could work it out. What would she do?
What would the Doctor do?
Why, he would stop her, of course.
When aliens or time-travellers tried to change Earth's history, he stopped them. Put things back the way they were supposed to be.
Ace sat down on the floor of the cave, hard. Glowing coals scattered from the overturned brazier. The khopesh khopesh clattered away out of her hand. clattered away out of her hand.
'Lost your stomach for history?'
Ace grabbed at her sword, dropped it again.
'You see,' said Pharaoh, 'war is easy. Any fool can flail about on a dusty plain, killing at random. It's much more difficult to make precise changes.'