‘More or less the gist of it.’ Benzamir tried to guess her age and her experience. ‘You’re highly recommended.’

‘Of course I am. I know all these scoundrels, and what they’ve got stashed away in their strong boxes. No matter how much they protest, they’ll always part with it for a price.’ She twisted her lips into a rare smile. ‘What is it that you’re looking for – and failing to find, I might add.’

Benzamir played with his fingers. ‘How are you on professional confidences?’

Alessandra was taken aback. ‘Are you doubting my integrity?’ Her muscles tensed, readying her to get up and go.

‘I’m sorry,’ apologized Benzamir. ‘That isn’t what I wanted to say at all.’ He waited for her to ease back into her chair before continuing. ‘If I told you that I wanted User knowledge – maps, books, machines – would you tell someone else who asked about me what I was looking for?’

‘No.’

‘Good.’ He slid his purse across the table, and was silent while she checked its contents.

‘You are joking.’ She looked up at him and tossed the bag back contemptuously.

He sighed. ‘That’s a pity. Sorry to have wasted your time.’ He gave a little bow with his head and put his hands on the arms of his chair. ‘Pleasure to have met you, mistress.’

‘Oh, sit down, Mahmood. It’s not like business is so good that I can’t trade a few hints with you.’ She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. ‘Coffee.’

Benzamir was distracted by a distant figure. ‘That’s Wahir. What’s he doing up there?’ He was starting to climb the Khufu pyramid.

Alessandra reached under her clothing and gave him her telescope, an oiled brass tube with hand-ground lenses at either end. He admired it briefly, before putting it to his eye.

‘I suppose he was going to do it sooner or later. It’s just too tempting.’

‘He’ll climb halfway up, get scared and come back down. I’ve done it once, and it’s surprisingly steep.’

‘But you went all the way to the top, didn’t you?’ Benzamir closed the telescope and handed it back.

‘Of course. Where are you really from?’

‘East of here, along the coast. My people lived in the mountains there.’ Benzamir reached forward for his purse, and Alessandra trapped his hand on top of it.

‘Live, or lived? In which case, where do they live now?’

‘I’m hiding things from you, for which I apologize. The people I’m looking for would like to find me as much as I’d like to find them.’

‘I don’t have to talk to you.’ She took the tray of coffee from the boy, put it on the table and waited for the answer.

‘We live on our ships, and we sail the oceans. We’re a people without a land, but we’ve been away so long, all land looks strange.’

Alessandra snorted at his reply. ‘I’ve never heard of you, and I make it my business to have heard of everything. You know the emperor of Kenya lays claim to User machines?’

‘That’ll explain why no one will admit to having any.’

‘There was something earlier this year. Two, three moons ago maybe. A book. It was in circulation, passing from hand to hand because no one knew quite what to make of it, or what to do with it.’ She poured the coffee into two cups, took hers and cradled it in her hands.

‘What sort of book?’

‘A metal book. Full of writing no one could read; full of pictures.’ She swallowed coffee, looked around for eavesdroppers and lowered her voice. ‘Some of the pictures moved. Just a little, as if they were trapped in the page and couldn’t get out. And each page was a thin sheet of something that no one had seen before. Couldn’t cut it, couldn’t burn it. Very strong. Because no one could do anything with it or make anything out of it, it had a curiosity value. Who bought it last?’ She tried to remember.

‘Who sold it first?’

‘I don’t know. It just appeared. The digger I saw with it said he’d bought it from a Kenyan, so where he’d got it from I’ve no idea. You tend not to ask too many questions of the emperor’s subjects.’

‘Sorry – just a moment . . .’ said Benzamir. Wahir was coming down the side of the pyramid much too quickly. He used Alessandra’s telescope and trained the lenses on him. Wahir looked scared half to death. ‘We’re going to have to go. Said!’

In a moment Said was at his side. ‘Master?’

‘Apologies, Mistress Alessandra. Your telescope.’ He handed it back and started running towards the pyramid.

CHAPTER 18

BENZAMIR MANAGED TO get to Wahir before he fell. They slid a way down the side of the pyramid, finally jarring to a halt against a block of stone.

‘Slow down. You’ll kill yourself.’

Wahir took a deep breath. ‘Chariots,’ he said.

‘I know.’

‘To the north.’

‘Wahir, I know.’ Benzamir made certain that the boy wasn’t going to slip down any further and climbed up a little way. In the distance he saw a dust cloud, rising to the sky and obscuring everything behind it. But in the foreground, following the line of the flood plain, was a horde of chariots, their horses already at the trot.

‘There must be a couple of hundred of them,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that an amazing sight?’

‘What are we going to do?’ gasped Wahir.

‘Apart from look at them?’

‘Master! It’s an army. Look where they’re heading.’

‘You spoil all my fun,’ said Benzamir. If he concentrated, he could hear them: hooves pounding, wheels clattering, traces jingling. They were coming straight towards them at a speed that didn’t inspire confidence. They weren’t advancing. They were attacking. ‘Right. Let’s get off this pyramid for a start.’

He grabbed Wahir’s arm and headed down. He spotted Said standing next to Alessandra, who was using her telescope to decide for herself whether to panic or not. Once she’d seen enough, she headed straight for the stand of horses, shouting as she went. Said was left to wait.

‘Master, it’s the Ethiopians.’

‘Is that good or bad?’

‘How should I know? Trust our luck to get caught up in a war.’

Benzamir and Wahir jumped the last stretch and landed in a heap at Said’s feet. By the time he’d helped them up, the camp was in uproar. The black-clad diggers were frantically trying to save what they could, using the men who hadn’t deserted at the first cry. There was a bloody riot beginning at one of the slavers’ compounds, and the local traders from Misr had vanished back towards the river.

‘The ferry?’ suggested Wahir.

‘It won’t do any good. The Ethiopian commander’s sent a small force down the far bank to cut off any escape. We’re going to have to head the other way.’

‘Into the desert? That’s madness,’ said Said. The approaching chariots were rumbling like distant thunder.

‘I’m not going to see if I can face down an entire army, not even for you two. Come on.’ Benzamir headed for the smallest of the three pyramids and called back. ‘Seriously, hurry. Whatever it is they’re after, I don’t want to have to either fight or answer awkward questions.’

They ran, and Benzamir aimed them directly at the approaching charioteers.

‘What are we doing?’

‘Broken ground to the north. Chariots are going to have to go to the river first. They’ll turn before they get to us.’

‘How do you know all this?’ panted Said. ‘You’ve never been here before.’

‘The advantages of satellite photography, my friend. Head for that hill. There’s a ruin on top – we can hide there.’ Benzamir pushed Said onwards and took Wahir’s hand. ‘This isn’t the time for dawdling.’

The valley they headed into was dry, but full of tough, thorny bushes that had to be avoided. The dust cloud was now almost above them, and the noise was incredible. There were individual cries of men and horses above the relentless rumble of wheels.

‘Up,’ urged Benzamir. ‘You can rest when you’re dead.’