skin. Nice hair, though a bit average. A good figure, though not enough breast to really shine. I can do something with you.”
“Good,” Cleopatra said. “Because you’re now the Royal Seamstress. After you’ve finished fitting me, I want you to do some clothes for my handmaidens. I think they’ve got nothing but the chitons on their backs.” She looked at me and Iras through the crowd of merchants pushing one cloth and another, over the three other seamstresses exchanging distressed glances. “Pick out whatever you want. Anything. Your word is enough for them.” Then she looked at the disgruntled seamstresses. “You’re going to attire the rest of my household. Come back tomorrow and Charmian will have my Major Domo for his fitting, and others that I require.”
They moved toward the door, and Cleopatra smiled at the seamstress with what was for once a genuine smile. “Let’s pick out some cloth.”
“I like this pink from Hyderabad,” I said, lifting a length. It was thin silk shot through with gold thread, a dark saturated pink like real roses. It would make her skin glow.
T HAT AFTERNOON Dion turned up. Pharaoh’s guards called me over to the door to identify him as he stood behind crossed spears in the outer corridor. I almost didn’t recognize him.
“Dion?” I said doubtfully.
The boy I remembered from three years before was gone. He was seventeen now, and seemed to have shot up two handspans, tall and thin. He wore a neatly trimmed dark beard around the edges of his chin, and his short dark hair fell in endearing curls over his forehead. He was, I thought, breathtakingly handsome.
“Charmian!” He pushed past the guardsmen and embraced me like a kinsman. The top of my head barely reached his chin. He smelled like incense and old scrolls. His beard was scratchy against my face as he kissed my cheek. “It’s been so long. You’ve missed a lot of plays.”
“I imagine I have,” I said. Dion felt wonderful pressed against me. I had never thought he might. Before I had time to decide exactly what I thought, he let go much too quickly and stood back, grinning.
“Do you still want to learn Aramaic?” he asked.
“You know I do,” I said. His grin was catching.
“Where’s Iras?” he asked.
“Here,” Iras said, coming out the door smiling as though her face would crack.
He bent to embrace her, and I felt a stabbing pain of jealousy run through me. Was it my imagination, or did he hold her longer than he held me? Was he pressing her a little closer?
“So what have you been doing, Dion?” I asked, pushing my hair back as we all went into the sitting room together.
“A little of this and a lot of that.” Dion threw himself into one of the chairs as though he hadn’t a bone in his body. “I’m teaching mathematics now to a bunch of snotty-nosed little boys, and I’m working with Philo in astronomy. He’s calculating the vectors of parabolic orbits, and how much speed you would need when accelerating away from a large body.”
Cleopatra had come in, and she poured watered wine for him. “And what can you do with that?”
Dion shrugged. “Go to the moon. Do you want to go, my Princess?”
Cleopatra laughed. “Is the moon made of silver, Dion, that I should replenish the treasury of Alexandria?”
“No one knows what the moon is made of,” Dion said seriously. “But if I had an engine of sufficient efficiency, I have the mathematics. Perhaps in a century or two it will be possible. Hero has done some very promising things with his aeliopile.”
“Aeliopile?” Iras sat down beside Dion on the nearest couch, reclining on the arm as she leaned toward him.
“It’s powered by the steam of boiling water,” Dion said. “It can make a ball spin faster than the human eye can see it, around fifteen hundred times per minute. It compresses air through a copper tube and expels it in a way that causes tremendous energy to be released. If there were a way to build a tube
“Good,” Cleopatra said. “Because you’re now the Royal Seamstress. After you’ve finished fitting me, I want you to do some clothes for my handmaidens. I think they’ve got nothing but the chitons on their backs.” She looked at me and Iras through the crowd of merchants pushing one cloth and another, over the three other seamstresses exchanging distressed glances. “Pick out whatever you want. Anything. Your word is enough for them.” Then she looked at the disgruntled seamstresses. “You’re going to attire the rest of my household. Come back tomorrow and Charmian will have my Major Domo for his fitting, and others that I require.”
They moved toward the door, and Cleopatra smiled at the seamstress with what was for once a genuine smile. “Let’s pick out some cloth.”
“I like this pink from Hyderabad,” I said, lifting a length. It was thin silk shot through with gold thread, a dark saturated pink like real roses. It would make her skin glow.
T HAT AFTERNOON Dion turned up. Pharaoh’s guards called me over to the door to identify him as he stood behind crossed spears in the outer corridor. I almost didn’t recognize him.
“Dion?” I said doubtfully.
The boy I remembered from three years before was gone. He was seventeen now, and seemed to have shot up two handspans, tall and thin. He wore a neatly trimmed dark beard around the edges of his chin, and his short dark hair fell in endearing curls over his forehead. He was, I thought, breathtakingly handsome.
“Charmian!” He pushed past the guardsmen and embraced me like a kinsman. The top of my head barely reached his chin. He smelled like incense and old scrolls. His beard was scratchy against my face as he kissed my cheek. “It’s been so long. You’ve missed a lot of plays.”
“I imagine I have,” I said. Dion felt wonderful pressed against me. I had never thought he might. Before I had time to decide exactly what I thought, he let go much too quickly and stood back, grinning.
“Do you still want to learn Aramaic?” he asked.
“You know I do,” I said. His grin was catching.
“Where’s Iras?” he asked.
“Here,” Iras said, coming out the door smiling as though her face would crack.
He bent to embrace her, and I felt a stabbing pain of jealousy run through me. Was it my imagination, or did he hold her longer than he held me? Was he pressing her a little closer?
“So what have you been doing, Dion?” I asked, pushing my hair back as we all went into the sitting room together.
“A little of this and a lot of that.” Dion threw himself into one of the chairs as though he hadn’t a bone in his body. “I’m teaching mathematics now to a bunch of snotty-nosed little boys, and I’m working with Philo in astronomy. He’s calculating the vectors of parabolic orbits, and how much speed you would need when accelerating away from a large body.”
Cleopatra had come in, and she poured watered wine for him. “And what can you do with that?”
Dion shrugged. “Go to the moon. Do you want to go, my Princess?”
Cleopatra laughed. “Is the moon made of silver, Dion, that I should replenish the treasury of Alexandria?”
“No one knows what the moon is made of,” Dion said seriously. “But if I had an engine of sufficient efficiency, I have the mathematics. Perhaps in a century or two it will be possible. Hero has done some very promising things with his aeliopile.”
“Aeliopile?” Iras sat down beside Dion on the nearest couch, reclining on the arm as she leaned toward him.
“It’s powered by the steam of boiling water,” Dion said. “It can make a ball spin faster than the human eye can see it, around fifteen hundred times per minute. It compresses air through a copper tube and expels it in a way that causes tremendous energy to be released. If there were a way to build a tube
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