His itinerary at last took him to the waterfront, and onto a wharf that appeared to be an embarkation point for workers coming from and going to the Pharos; so I assumed from the uniform—a tight-fitting cap and a tunic of dark green—worn by the passengers who were disembarking from a ferry that had just landed at the wharf. They had the weary look of workers who had just ended a long shift, in contrast to the more energetic demeanor of the similarly dressed passengers who shuffled forward to take their place on the ferry.
There was a guard post at the entrance to the wharf, but the soldier who was supposed to be manning it stood some distance away, his back turned while he talked to a pretty girl passing by. The murderer walked right past him and onto the wharf. I quickly followed him.
He stepped through a narrow doorway and into a long, low structure. After some hesitation, I followed him. The interior was cluttered and dark, lit only by a few high windows. As my eyes adjusted, around me I saw various nautical items—coils of rope, bits of planking, patches for sails, and such. There was also a pile of what appeared to be discarded workers’ uniforms; perhaps the garments needed mending.
Suddenly, from nearby, I heard the murderer talking, and the sound of his voice—long unheard but never forgotten—chilled my blood. His voice drew closer. My heart pounded in my chest. I squatted down and hid as best I could behind a stack of coiled ropes. He strode directly in front of me and stopped only a few steps away. Above the ropes, I had a view of his face. Had he bothered to look in my direction, he might have seen me as well, among the shadows.
“Our ranks have grown corrupt and must be purified,” he was saying. “Like weeds among the barley, the unfaithful must be pulled up by the root!”
The man who accompanied him was very tall and had a narrow face. He was dressed in the same colors as the lighthouse workers, but his long green gown was elegantly embroidered with images of Tritons holding conches. He wore a high hat shaped like the Pharos and he carried a ceremonial flail to denote his authority.
“Yes, Nikanor, yes,” the man was saying, “any and all traitors among us must be eliminated, without mercy. But the reason I asked you to come today was so that you could tell me what progress has been made on the coded message system being devised by our friends at the Library. Their job is to anticipate all possible contingencies, military and otherwise, and my job is to figure out how the mirrors and the clarions can be used to send secret signals between us. But I can’t begin to work out the details until you give me the list of secure locations in the city to which such signals are to be directed.”
“Is it true, Anubion, that from the Pharos you can aim a beam of light at any house in the city?”
“Provided there is a clear sightline between that house and any of the mirrors located on the Pharos, yes. But the mechanics for doing so are quite complex, and must be worked out and tested in advance. That’s why I need the list as soon as possible—”
“Yes, yes, Anubion, you’ll get the list,” said Nikanor. “But I was wondering—can the mirrors be aimed at the royal palace, as well?”
“Of course they can be, and quite frequently they are; that’s how King Ptolemy and his agents send messages back and forth to one another. A message in code is flashed from a mirror in one part of the palace to the Pharos, and then the same message is sent from the Pharos back to a different part of the palace. Thus the king’s agents, even though distant from each other in the royal complex, can communicate almost instantaneously, and in secret, as long as the codes they use remain secure.”
“Remarkable! No wonder King Ptolemy is always a step ahead of his enemies. But with you in charge of the lighthouse, this system can now be used by Mithridates, as well.”
Mithridates! How often had I heard the name of the King of Pontus uttered over the course of our long journey? It appeared that his influence extended even here.
“Lower your voice!” said Anubion. “Most of the workers would have no idea what we were talking about, even if we spoke right in front of them, but if one of them should overhear us, I’d still have to have the fellow put to death. I consider myself completely loyal to King Ptolemy—but Ptolemy is helpless against the Romans, and unless the Romans are stopped, one day they’ll devour Egypt along with the rest of the world. Our only hope to stop the Romans is Mithridates. As long as I am in charge of the Pharos, even if I must do so in secret, I’ll use its power to—”
“Are you able to see directly into King Ptolemy’s private chambers, then?” said Nikanor, interrupting him.
Anubion wrinkled his brow. “What are you talking about?”
“Using the mirrors. They cast light a very great distance, I know. But you can also use them to see great distances, can’t you?”
Anubion scoffed. “Where did you get such an idea—from our friends in the Library? Yes, I’m aware that some scholars, experts in the properties of optics and light, believe that such a far-seeing device might be created, using mirrors. But no such devices are installed in the Pharos.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard. Not only can you see great distances, but from the very top of the tower, using the most powerful mirrors, you can see into men’s minds!”
Anubion drew back his shoulders. “Now you are no longer talking about science, my friend, but about magic—and nonsense!”
Nikanor gave him a wily look. “Oh, I understand—you can’t talk about these things, at least not to me, not yet. But soon enough, you’ll see that I’m trustworthy, and you can share all the secret powers of the Pharos with me. And together, you and I will use them to destroy the traitors among us, the ones who claim to be loyal to Mithridates but aren’t. They’ll die like dogs!”
Anubion cocked an eyebrow and emitted a noncommittal grunt. “When do you meet with your contact at the Library?”
“Today, as soon as I leave you.”
“Very well. Tell him I need the list of locations as soon as possible, and after that, a list of the signals and codes he proposes to use. Do you understand?”
“Of course I do. You think I’m stupid, but I’m cleverer than you think.”
Anubion pursed his lips. “On second thought, tell our friend at the Library that it’s time for him and me to meet face-to-face.”
“He won’t like that. He says you should stay apart, to avoid suspicion.”
“Nevertheless, he should have a firsthand look at the Pharos. He can say that his historical research necessitates a visit, and I was generous enough to offer him a tour. Give him this, to serve as a pass.” He produced a ceramic token with a seal on it.
“Shall he come alone?”
“He may bring his new colleague with him, if he likes. Tell them to arrive here at the wharf, an hour after sunrise. Now go.”
Nikanor turned to leave, then looked over his shoulder. “Rome is the disease,” he whispered.
Apparently this was a kind of watchword, for Anubion replied as if by rote: “And Mithridates is the cure!”
The two parted and headed in opposite directions.
Their final words echoed in my ears. My blood ran cold.
Before I could move, some workers entered the storage house, and I was obliged to remain hidden. As soon as the workers moved on, I stole away, and hurried past the guard post, where the guard was still absent. I peered up and down the waterfront, but Nikanor was nowhere to be seen.
He had said he would be meeting someone from the Library. I headed in that direction, thinking I might spot him again, but I reached the entrance of the Library without seeing him.
My head spinning, I wandered up the street. What would Antipater think of my story? Would he even believe me, or would he scoff at the idea that I had seen the killer from Olympia so many months later and so many hundreds of miles away? And what of the man’s fantastic notions about the Pharos and the magical powers of its mirrors? Anubion had dismissed his ideas—but the keeper of the lighthouse was by his own admission a master of deceit and secrecy. A space between two buildings suddenly afforded me a view of the Pharos—and I felt a shiver, wondering if the unblinking eye of its beacon was watching me.