Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [106]
"Yes." I stood, stiff with long sitting, and wandered to Karem's worktable, attempting to see his handiwork, "Karem, these are very fine! What is this, a cameo? It's worthy of D'Angeline workmanship."
He moved awkwardly, interposing his body between me and the worktable, preventing me from seeing. "No, no, my lady is too kind," he murmured. "They are poor trifles; poor trifles, nothing more."
"Gracious lady." Nesmut, appearing at my side, tugged at my hand, looking at me with earnest eyes. "Let us go."
In the street, when the door to the jeweler's shop had closed behind us, he relaxed. I exchanged a perplexed look with Joscelin, who shrugged. The sun stood high overhead and the heat had intensified.
"Come," Nesmut said. "We will take repose."
The establishment to which he led us was thoroughly Menekhetan in nature; cool and dim, with thick walls to keep out the heat and high ceilings to diffuse it, and the same low arrangement of table and chairs, nearer to the cool tiles of the floor. We paused in the arched doorway. Several men seated within were playing a game with an inlaid board. They looked up, neither hostile nor welcoming. Nesmut spoke to the proprietor at length in Menekhetan. Eventually he nodded and waved us to a table, bringing a brown earthenware jug of beer and three cups.
The proprietor poured and the men resumed their board game, stealing occasional glances our way. "Nesmut," I said. "Are you sure we are welcome here?"
Draining half his beer at a draught, he nodded vigorously, swallowing and setting down his cup. "Yes, gracious lady. It is not a place for women, Menekhetan women, but I explained to Hapuseneb that you are a foreigner, and different. It is proper. Do not fear. I know much of the ways of foreigners," he added, boasting.
"And Menekhetans and Hellenes as well?" Joscelin inquired.
Nesmut refilled his cup. "Everything, gracious lord, that passes in the city. But you are going to Jebe-Barkal, yes?"
"Yes," I said. "In a fortnight." I sipped my beer and found it cool and refreshing, sweetened with honey and a trace of mint. "Nesmut, it is true, we do have need of a guide to the city, one who knows it inside and out. But our business here, it is a very delicate matter, and this guide ... it must be someone whom we can trust, someone who can keep a secret."
His eyes had grown very round. "I can keep a secret!" he said excitedly, tapping his breast. "I can, yes!"
I shook my head. "No. Even a promise is not enough. It is too grave."
"I will swear it by Serapis, god of the dead." Nesmut shivered and knelt on his low chair, tucking his bare feet under him. "I will swear the most dire oath I know, gracious lady!"
I thought about it, and at length nodded, keeping my expression terribly serious. "All right, then. Swear it." He did, raising one hand and reciting a long oath in Menekhetan with all the gravity of his youth. "Good," I said when he had finished. "Nesmut, we are looking for a boy, a D'Angeline boy who was sold into slavery somewhere in Iskandria."
"Oh." Looking disappointed, he slumped back into his chair. "Yes, gracious lady. The one who put a knife in merchant Chouma?"
I raised my eyebrows. "You know about it?"
Nesmut sniffed. "Everyone knows. Rekhmire the clerk marched through the city to Chouma's house with enough men for an army. Everyone knows. Not," he added scornfully, "the lords and ladies, no. They are too busy aping Hellenes, courting favor. They do not care what Pharaoh's men do to a Menekhetan slave-merchant. They do not care that Chouma's third concubine will have scars."
"So much for discretion," Joscelin said to me.
"True," I said. "Nesmut, what else do people say about it? Do they know where the boy may be found?"
"No." He shook his head, concentrating on refilling his cup. The jug was empty; our young guide had a considerable thirst for beer. He glanced at Joscelin for permission before gesturing to the proprietor for more. "No, gracious lady, no one knows. But it is said ..." He glanced sidelong at