The Pharoah Contract

“Yes,” Ruiz replied. “I had the impression that a mistake was made. The only other prisoner that I saw in the dungeons was the conjuror, the one who took the semblance of Bhas in the play.”

Dolmaero’s eyes crackled with interest. “You saw Master Flomel?”

“Is that his name?”

“Yes. What of Master Kroel or Master Molnekh? Did you see them, too?”

“No.”

“Umm.” Dolmaero seemed lost in thought. Then he said, “Some among the elders believed that only the masters were translated to the Land of Reward, while we lesser folk were forced to bide in this land of Expiation. Apparently they’re wrong. I’m not sure this is hopeful information.”

A long silence ensued, during which Ruiz finished his meal.

Dolmaero sighed. “I believe that your story is longer than the one you’ve told, but I don’t blame you for keeping your own counsel. We’ve given you little reason for trust, so I thank you for your news.” He got up, with an effort. He stood looking at Ruiz for a moment with both puzzlement and interest. Finally he said, “Your tattoos are interesting to me, if I may comment on them without incurring your animosity.”

Ruiz nodded slowly.

“Well,” said Dolmaero. “They seem to partake of several traditions, in a manner that I’ve not seen before. Furthermore, and I mean no insult, they seem a trifle pale. An interesting variation.” Then, in an apparent non sequitur, Dolmaero said, “A study of obscure legends is a pastime of mine. You know of the discredited Cult of Saed Corpashun? Bhasrahmet has several times expunged the cult. But a few devotees survive, and claim that men from the far stars occasionally walk Pharaoh.”

Ruiz allowed no emotion to reach his face, other than polite interest. Dolmaero nodded in a friendly manner and walked away. Ruiz was amazed. Here was a canny primitive, indeed. And if Ruiz’s tattoos were losing their brightness already, there was little time left to engineer an escape. He returned to the hut in a sober frame of mind.

Nisa was standing by the door, holding her empty plate. He smiled cordially as he stepped by her. His intention was to sit quietly for a while and consider the possibilities of the situation, to try to rearrange them into a shape that offered a chance of escape.

As he passed, however, she reached out and tugged at his arm. “Wuhiya, will you help me?” she said.

He stopped reluctantly.

“I’d be very grateful if you’d take me to the bathhouse. I’m afraid to go by myself. You know why.” Her eyes were large, her small smile appealing; Ruiz saw that she was holding on to her dignity with difficulty. When he didn’t reply immediately, her lip began to tremble.

Ruiz sighed. “Of course, Noble Person, though I don’t believe anyone would molest you, now.”

Her eyes brightened, and she smiled. “You may call me Nisa,” she said. “I will appoint you a Royal Friend.”

He had to laugh. She took no offense, apparently mistaking his amusement for simple pleasure.

* * *

At the bathhouse, two men and an old woman left hastily, rolling their eyes fearfully. Ruiz watched while Nisa dropped her tunic and scrubbed her body with a handful of soapweed, then rinsed away the filth of her illness with dippers of cool water from a crock. He took a surprised delight in the pleasant lift and jounce of her breasts as she lathered her mass of dark hair, in the way the sudsy water ran down her pale flesh, flowing in the hollows, shining on the convexities. For the first time, Ruiz perceived the phoenix as more than a lovely but pitiable object. An urgent desire kindled in him, so that he could not look away from her.

* * *

Nisa felt his eyes on her as she washed. After a while she felt his desire, and so she began to shift her body for his benefit, moving in the ways that gracefully emphasized the line of her breasts, the soft sweep of her thighs. At first she was hardly aware that she was being provocative. After all, his status was only a bit higher than a slave’s, and with slaves and peasants one did not provoke, one commanded. Too, with his sudden violence and his alien beauty, she was not even sure if she believed him to be human. He seemed undismayed by this world of demons — was that natural?

She avoided looking at him, pretending that she didn’t feel the touch of his gaze. As she rubbed the soapweed slowly over her body, the coarse tingling touch of the fibers woke a trickle of heat between her legs, and it grew more difficult for her to suppress an occasional shudder of pleasure. She became aware of an aching tension in her breasts.

Still he sat quietly in his shadowed corner. Abruptly, her mind formed the image of Wuhiya at his exercises, his body flowing from one position to the next in a blur of hard beautiful flesh.

* * *

Nisa seemed to pay no attention to him, until she was finished and relaxing in the bathhouse’s deep cistern, as was the Pharaohan custom.