fingers together, then prying them apart and wiping her hands down the sides of her tunic.
What was taking so long?
She had sent Ares into the city long ago. He knew the back roads and alleys, and the people who frequented them. He could find someone for the task she required.
Last night’s plan to have Cleopatra use her influence with Caesar had failed. Sosigenes would not be released, and if anything, Sophia had drawn more attention to the scholars and to her lighthouse than she would have wished.
And so it was left to her to find another solution.
She put her plan into action as soon as the sun rose, filling a sack with enough money to purchase the help of disreputable characters and passing it to Ares with whispered instructions.
Do what you must to free him from prison. Bring him to me. Take care that no one sees you come here.
After that she had no plan. Only to hear Sosigenes’s important news and find a way to keep him safe. She stood now at the entrance, looking over the island.
The Base, the platform level of the lighthouse, housed over two hundred rooms in the corridors that formed a huge square at the tip of Pharos Island. In the center of the courtyard formed by the four corridors, the lighthouse itself began its ascent, with the ramp that spiraled upward. On this south side of the Base, the entrance led out to the heptastadion, and paths branched off in eastern and western directions to thesmall village that had been part of this island since before the time of Alexander.
Sophia had a clear view across the island and the causeway, but she saw no sign of Ares or Sosigenes. She returned to her pacing of the South Wing. She ran her hand along the stone corridor and trailed her fingers over a wooden door that led to an unused storage room. The dim light of the front hall did not reach into the shadowy corners of the doorway.
Back to the entrance, to squint into the sunlight, searching the heptastadion again. Villagers came and went. Some on foot, some in two-wheeled carts pulled by mangy horses. She could hear the far-off shouts of the village below her, the village that teemed with a community of people living together and loving each other.
To her left, the Great Harbor was fully into its business of the day. Across the blue water a golden sun-path sparkled, like a road inviting her to join the city. It seemed there were people in every direction she looked from her isolated position on the island.
And then she saw him. Ares, cracking a whip over the back of a horse, from his place at the front of a large wooden wagon.
Why a wagon?
She used her hand to shield her eyes and waited for them to reach the end of the heptastadion. Her heel beat an impatient rhythm against the stones.
Sosigenes was not with him. She prayed to the gods that he was in the wagon.
Ares jumped from the rickety vehicle, the switch still in his hands. The horse pawed at the ground and snorted. A canvas had been stretched and tacked over the back of the vehicle, makingits load a mystery. Ares searched the area around the lighthouse entrance.
“Where is he? Did you get him out?”
Ares nodded once. “He is here.” He inclined his head to the wagon and smiled. “And I have a surprise for you.”
Sophia frowned and hurried to the back of the wagon. “You know I hate surprises.”
“Not this one.” He joined her. “You’ll want to kiss me for this one, Abbas.”
“We shall see about that.”
A crude nail poked through the canvas into the wagon’s splintered side. She yanked the canvas away and revealed part of the wagon’s load.
It was enough.
Four white-haired men lay on their backs, grinning up at her.
“Sosigenes! Archippos! Ares, what—how many of you are there?” She attempted to pull the canvas farther.
Sosigenes propped himself on his bony elbows. “All of us, Sophia. The whole Council. All twelve.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Where else would we go?”
Ares appeared smiling at her elbow,
What was taking so long?
She had sent Ares into the city long ago. He knew the back roads and alleys, and the people who frequented them. He could find someone for the task she required.
Last night’s plan to have Cleopatra use her influence with Caesar had failed. Sosigenes would not be released, and if anything, Sophia had drawn more attention to the scholars and to her lighthouse than she would have wished.
And so it was left to her to find another solution.
She put her plan into action as soon as the sun rose, filling a sack with enough money to purchase the help of disreputable characters and passing it to Ares with whispered instructions.
Do what you must to free him from prison. Bring him to me. Take care that no one sees you come here.
After that she had no plan. Only to hear Sosigenes’s important news and find a way to keep him safe. She stood now at the entrance, looking over the island.
The Base, the platform level of the lighthouse, housed over two hundred rooms in the corridors that formed a huge square at the tip of Pharos Island. In the center of the courtyard formed by the four corridors, the lighthouse itself began its ascent, with the ramp that spiraled upward. On this south side of the Base, the entrance led out to the heptastadion, and paths branched off in eastern and western directions to thesmall village that had been part of this island since before the time of Alexander.
Sophia had a clear view across the island and the causeway, but she saw no sign of Ares or Sosigenes. She returned to her pacing of the South Wing. She ran her hand along the stone corridor and trailed her fingers over a wooden door that led to an unused storage room. The dim light of the front hall did not reach into the shadowy corners of the doorway.
Back to the entrance, to squint into the sunlight, searching the heptastadion again. Villagers came and went. Some on foot, some in two-wheeled carts pulled by mangy horses. She could hear the far-off shouts of the village below her, the village that teemed with a community of people living together and loving each other.
To her left, the Great Harbor was fully into its business of the day. Across the blue water a golden sun-path sparkled, like a road inviting her to join the city. It seemed there were people in every direction she looked from her isolated position on the island.
And then she saw him. Ares, cracking a whip over the back of a horse, from his place at the front of a large wooden wagon.
Why a wagon?
She used her hand to shield her eyes and waited for them to reach the end of the heptastadion. Her heel beat an impatient rhythm against the stones.
Sosigenes was not with him. She prayed to the gods that he was in the wagon.
Ares jumped from the rickety vehicle, the switch still in his hands. The horse pawed at the ground and snorted. A canvas had been stretched and tacked over the back of the vehicle, makingits load a mystery. Ares searched the area around the lighthouse entrance.
“Where is he? Did you get him out?”
Ares nodded once. “He is here.” He inclined his head to the wagon and smiled. “And I have a surprise for you.”
Sophia frowned and hurried to the back of the wagon. “You know I hate surprises.”
“Not this one.” He joined her. “You’ll want to kiss me for this one, Abbas.”
“We shall see about that.”
A crude nail poked through the canvas into the wagon’s splintered side. She yanked the canvas away and revealed part of the wagon’s load.
It was enough.
Four white-haired men lay on their backs, grinning up at her.
“Sosigenes! Archippos! Ares, what—how many of you are there?” She attempted to pull the canvas farther.
Sosigenes propped himself on his bony elbows. “All of us, Sophia. The whole Council. All twelve.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Where else would we go?”
Ares appeared smiling at her elbow,
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