indicating we should follow.
‘It’s definitely time we left,’ said Simut, getting up to leave.
‘Not yet. Wait here,’ I replied.
‘Have you lost your mind?’ he hissed.
I followed the landlord down a fetid corridor, which gave on to an even filthier yard, where a few miserable ducks, tied together by their feet, huddled in the shade, and then, via a broken doorway, into a dank lane. Human ordure ran along a channel in the middle, and naked children splashed around in the mud and mess. He knocked on the lintel of a doorway opposite. The ragged cloth that served as a curtain was drawn back, and the landlord shrugged with barely disguised contempt and proposed I should enter. By the dim and dusty light filtering in through the shadows, I saw men and women lying together, in a kind of stagnant disarray. Most had their eyes closed, dreaming deeply. The place smelled of sweetness and corruption. The languid man I had noticed earlier was just settling into the bliss of his latest fix. A thin young man, all skin and bone, his weak face pitted with spots, beckoned me further inside with a gap-toothed grin, showing me jars in the shape of the poppy seed that contained the opium itself, and nodding enthusiastically.
‘Here is plenty for you, all excellent quality. Come…’
I pulled him aside so that his back was to the wall, and I was close to his face.
‘Where do you get it? Who is your supplier?’
He scowled.
‘Why do you care, as long as you can buy?’
‘That’s my business. Answer the question.’
He turned away, and I saw him reach for his little flint knife. I grabbed his arm, shook the knife from his hand, and held my dagger’s blade to his sallow cheek.
‘Call that a knife? This is a knife.’
He glanced down at the clean blade of polished bronze. Perspiration beaded his dirty brow.
‘Answer the question, and then perhaps I won’t cut your nose off.’
His eyes were mean and vicious, so I sliced into the skin of his cheek, just a little. Some of the clientele gazed at us without moving.
‘I get it from the docks!’ He winced.
‘Where in the docks?’
He was too slow answering, so I jabbed the knife deeper. A line of blood appeared and began to trickle down his scrawny chin. He would have a scar to remember me by.
‘From the ships…’
I changed the position of the blade to draw a different cut across his face. Another line of blood began to follow the first, dripping off his chin on to the floor in slow drops.
‘I don’t have all day.’
‘From a man…’
‘What is his name?’
‘I don’t know!’
‘Where can I find him?’
‘You can’t. I don’t find him. He finds me.’
‘When? How? What’s his name?’
‘I don’t know, I don’t know! He makes a delivery via an intermediary, and he takes the payment… I never know when they’re coming-’
‘When did they last come?’
There was no answer, so I made another cruel downward cut with the knife, and more blood flowed.
‘Yesterday!’ he shouted, struggling.
Suddenly, a black storm blew up inside me. I punched him hard, and he fell backwards among his clientele, who murmured gently in their trances, and peered at the commotion. Two strangers pushed through the filthy curtain, and came at me. I had my knife poised to slash at them, but one of them kicked my feet from under me, my dagger went spinning away across the floor, and I sprawled among the muttering clientele. When I looked up, the other thug had his own blade-a long, curved scimitar-poised. He grinned toothlessly. My hand gripped the leg of a stool, and I threw it with all my strength. But the thug ducked, and the stool slammed into the wall behind him. The man whose face I had cut was leering, encouraging the two thugs to kill me. They came for me; but suddenly a jar shattered over the skull of the one with the scimitar, and he crashed to the floor; the other turned, and I saw Simut slam him hard in the face with the heel of his hand, shattering his nose. He slumped to his knees, holding his face, blood dripping down his chest. I snatched up my dagger and Simut dragged me away towards the door. The evil little guy I’d cut was cowering in a corner.
‘Leave him!’ shouted Simut.
But I gripped him tightly by the throat.
‘Tell him Rahotep is looking for him. Tell him to come and find me. If he dares! Understand?’ I said.
He nodded, terrified, unable to breathe.
And then Simut was pulling me away, into the filthy lane, and back into the crowded streets. He was furious.
‘Whatever you were doing in there, it’s got nothing to do with our mission. It’s unacceptable!’
‘It’s none of your business,’ I snapped.
‘It’s all of our business! What do you think this mission is? Some sort of opportunity for you to conduct a personal vendetta?’
I stared at him.
‘Nakht told you, didn’t he?’
‘Of course he did. Your emotional state was considered a liability to the mission. But it was Nakht who said he would take personal responsibility for your behaviour. And now you’ve let him down.’
‘Don’t tell him,’ I said.
‘I have a duty to tell him,’ he replied.
We rode on in silence, until we arrived back at the boat. I was about to jump off, but Simut grabbed my arm again.
‘Listen to me, my friend. I know how you’re feeling. Everything’s unreal except your grief and hatred. You want revenge. But this mission matters more than anything else. And remember-whatever you do, you can’t bring Khety back.’
‘Why do people keep telling me that?’ I said, shaking him off.
‘Because it’s true,’ he replied.
The wind of rage died away suddenly. I felt tired. Simut let go of my arm.
‘Every night, when I lie down to sleep, I see his face,’ I said.
‘I won’t patronize you by telling you time heals,’ he replied. ‘And I won’t say anything to Nakht. But please, my friend, take my advice. Focus on the mission. If we fail, then I fear the End of Days is upon us.’
Later that night, when I finally drifted off to sleep, I dreamt a thin cord, clotted with blood, had been stitched into my mouth and tongue, and then down my throat, into my heart, where a thick black knot held it tight. And the knot was feeding on my heart’s black blood, and growing bigger. And no matter how hard I pulled, no matter how much agony I tolerated as I pulled, I could not loosen that knot. I woke suddenly, with a brief cry, sweating, my heart racing. A feeling of insistent irritation seemed to have taken over my limbs, and I could not keep still. My fists were clenched. My jaw muscles were tight. My shoulders ached. I felt a tension in my skin, as before a sandstorm. The ship felt like a trap. I couldn’t breathe. I had to move.
A half-moon shone down on the docks and the ships. Two palace guards stood watch.
‘I need to conduct a security tour of the docks…’ I said to them.
‘No one is allowed off the ship after dark,’ said the first, firmly and without any finesse of respect or politeness.
‘And I’m telling you I’m not happy to sleep until I’ve satisfied myself there’s no threat out there in the
