‘But – but,’ said Said, ‘if you are here, then your enemies must be amongst us. If that’s so, then who will survive such a battle? If you can destroy a mountain, how much easier is a city?’

‘Don’t be afraid, Said. Misr will live for another thousand years. The enemies – the Others – are not here. Those I’m trying to find are people like me. They fought with us once, but now they’ve turned against the king, his people, and mine. They’re counted as rebels, traitors, and worse.’

‘That’s hardly a comfort, master. If you need our help’ – Said jabbed himself in the chest and pointed at pale, trembling Wahir – ‘then things must be very bad.’

‘Said, Wahir, I know this is hard for you. I don’t expect you to fight them. I don’t expect to fight them either, but I do have to find them and take them back to answer to the king. I need help finding them, preferably without them knowing that I’m looking for them. One man on his own asking difficult, unusual questions raises suspicions that three companions won’t.’

‘I’m not afraid,’ said Wahir, jutting his chin out. ‘I’m not afraid of the Others or the traitors.’

‘No, it’s right to be afraid of the Others. But the traitors – I’m angry with them. They should know better.’

‘It’s an incredible story,’ said Said, ‘but at least I can understand it, not like your talk of before. Your starships and your floating tray of knives. I really didn’t get that at all. Nonsense.’

‘Orbital weapons platform,’ murmured Benzamir. ‘I’m sorry this has taken so long. Trying to find the right words is difficult when you don’t share the same history as my people.’

‘Are you really a magician?’ asked Wahir.

Benzamir thought about the answer for a while, stroking his long nose with a finger. Finally he said, ‘Yes. And so are the traitors. That’s why I don’t want you to fight them. I don’t want either of you to come to any harm. Promise me that you’ll leave them to me when the time comes. Said? Wahir?’

He made them both say solemn vows that he hoped were binding, or at the very least that he could remind them of at the appropriate moment.

‘Master, why don’t you just use your magic to find them?’ asked Said.

‘Because,’ said Benzamir, ‘most of the ways I could try would let them know I was here, and looking for them. They’d be next to impossible to find after that. They might want to turn the tables on me, make me the hunted one. There are a lot more of them than there are of me.’

‘You’re more powerful than they are, master, surely.’

‘Kind of you to say so, Wahir. Perhaps I am.’ Benzamir finished his beer and discovered that there was sediment at the bottom of the bottle that didn’t taste at all good. ‘Gah. Another bottle, quick.’

Wahir hurriedly handed him another.

When he’d cleared his throat repeatedly, he continued. ‘This isn’t about who’s stronger, or more cunning, or who’s got the biggest army backing them up. This is about what’s right and wrong. I have right on my side, but what’s the use of that if I don’t find those I’m looking for and deliver them to face the king’s justice? Every day that passes allows them to believe they’ve got away with it. It makes them bolder.’

‘That won’t happen, will it?’ said Wahir. ‘You’ll teach them the lesson they deserve.’

‘That’s what I’m here to do. Anything left unsaid, Said?’

‘One thing, master. Where in the world do you live? I’m sure that we would have heard of a race of powerful magicians.’

Benzamir worried at his bottom lip with his teeth. ‘How long have you known me?’

‘Since the year end. Five moons?’

‘Because I’m sure I’ve explained this a dozen times, and I’m so sorry you still don’t understand. Very well: a race of magicians. You’ve heard of some, Said, and you, Wahir. You’ve told me stories about them, both of you.’

He waited, and suddenly Wahir gave a low moan of panic. ‘Users. But you can’t be one.’ From kneeling on the floor at Benzamir’s feet, he started to back away. ‘They’re all dead.’

‘I’m not a User,’ said Benzamir quickly, ‘My people’s power now surpasses even the Users’. We’re the secret in their history that no one knows.’

‘What are you?’ breathed Said. ‘Are you an angel or a devil?’

‘I’m a man. A man who likes beer. My people – they’re like me. We live and love and fight and die, just like you do. Except we’ve spent seven hundred years building on what the Users knew, and you’ve spent seven hundred years forgetting. That’s the only difference between us. Cut me, and I bleed.’

‘How can I cut you?’ said Said. ‘No weapon can even touch you.’

Benzamir shot out his hand, grabbed Said’s wrist and pulled the bigger man close. ‘You’re my friend, Said, and I do this because I love you, not because I want you to love me.’ He pulled Said’s dagger from his belt and passed it along his own exposed forearm. A line of blood bloomed from the lengthening wound and started dripping on Said’s writhing fingers.

‘Enough!’ shouted Said. He used his strength to push Benzamir back onto the divan and stared at his bloodied hand. ‘Don’t do any more. Don’t mutilate yourself, master. Friend. You are a man. You are Benzamir Mahmood.’

‘Wahir? See?’

Said helped the boy up and dragged him over to Benzamir. ‘He’s a man after all, Wahir. One of us.’

‘You’re not a User?’

‘No, Wahir, I promise. I’m not a User. The Users have long gone, and they won’t be back.’ The wound was starting to hurt. He hadn’t meant to cut so deeply, but Said’s knife was blunt at the tip, and he’d had to press harder than he’d wanted to. ‘A User wouldn’t be standing here, asking for a bandage while he bled all over the floor.’

Wahir laughed, an explosive sound that was more nerves than mirth. ‘I suppose not.’

‘Then get me a bandage.’

Wahir used a towel temporarily wrapped around Benzamir’s arm to staunch the flow, then went out to find an apothecary. Said sat down on the divan too, his fist knuckling his chin.

‘What is it, Said?’

‘What is it again that we’re looking for at the diggers’ market?’

‘Something that looks like nothing you have ever seen before. Ignore what you recognize, but look interested if someone offers you some bizarre piece of twisted metal that they themselves don’t understand. I don’t doubt that most of what the diggers deal in is either mundane or faked. But the better ones will know when they’ve got real treasure, even if they have no idea what to make of it.’

‘And why would your king’s enemies want these?’

The towel was turning red, but Benzamir knew that underneath, his skin was already starting to knit together. ‘You’ve got it the wrong way round. The traitors will be giving away their magic, offering it to show their good intentions, using it as currency and influence. What I need to discover is where it is these artefacts come from. Can you do that for me? Can you be discreet while doing it?’

‘This trail you hope to find: it might lead all the way to your enemies’ door.’ Said moved his fist to slap it in the palm of his hand. ‘I see now. So that’s how we’ll find these dogs and send them back to beg for mercy. They can’t hide for ever – not from you, and not from me.’

‘Thank you, Said. Thank you.’

CHAPTER 17

IN THE HOUR before dawn, very little moved on the streets of Misr except for thieves, whores, their victims and their clients.

The muezzins were still asleep, and only the bakers toiled at their ovens. No one noticed the three figures slipping from a door, each wearing his heaviest cloak and carrying an oil light suspended from a stick.

‘How will you find this Selah again?’ asked Wahir. ‘I’ve seen the way you explore, and it’s a wonder you ever make it back to us each day.’

‘It’s a knack: how I find my way around is a little incidental magic that hurts no one. We’ll find him, unless he’s already gone because we’ve spent too long here talking.’