‘We’ll forge some at the earliest opportunity. And it’s not strictly true that I don’t have credentials.’ Benzamir pushed the sleeve on his left arm as far up as it would go. ‘There.’

‘What? It’s too dark to see, Benzamir.’

‘Oh, hang on.’ He concentrated, and the tattoo on his bicep began to glow: a double star, yellow and red, a stylized tree in green, an out-thrust palm in blue. ‘Bio-luminescence. All my people have one when we come of age.’

Alessandra was quiet. ‘You use your magic so casually,’ she said eventually. ‘But it scares me.’

Wahir leaned close in and traced the outlines of the shapes with his finger. ‘What do they mean?’

‘The two stars are for Mizar, which is in the southern sky. That’s where I was born. The tree is my tribe, my clan. The hand is my profession – an explorer, a scout, a soldier.’

‘You were never born on a star,’ said Wahir.

Benzamir smiled in the night. ‘I was born on a ship at the moment that Mizar was rising over the horizon. I suppose where the ship was isn’t really important. These three signs have hidden messages in them that only other magicians can read, so that we can know all about each other when we meet.’ He rolled his sleeve back down, and the tattoo was covered over.

‘And what about your enemies? What do they have?’

‘They have different symbols. But one of them is of my tribe. We should be working together, because that’s what the tribe does, not fighting each other.’ Benzamir finally stood by the last lit lamp. He picked it up and held it in front of him. ‘He’s chosen his path, and I’ve chosen mine. We’ll see who wins when we meet.’

‘There can’t be any doubt, master.’

‘Hush, Wahir. There’s always doubt. Just because I believe I’m right doesn’t mean I’m going to come out on top.’

‘But you have us, master,’ said Said. ‘We won’t stand idly by when the time comes.’

‘And I’ve told you that you have to. Only a fool interferes with a wizards’ duel.’ Benzamir lapsed into silence again, then reached up to pluck the faint red lights out of the air around his head. ‘We must be away before morning. I want to be able to present ourselves at the emperor’s door before a messenger from Misr arrives with a tall tale about a ruined Bible and missing wall.’

‘We’re going to Great Nairobi?’ Alessandra blinked in the half-light. ‘Now?’

‘Only if you want to. I’ve dragged Said and Wahir away from their homes. I can hardly ask the same of you.’

‘I no longer remember where my home was. Sometimes I dream of a green hill, thick with trees, and goats grazing underneath them. There’s a red tiled house, and a man and a woman. I never see their faces.’ Alessandra bit her lip until she was certain not to cry. ‘I can’t go back. I don’t know the way.’

‘And Misr?’

‘Between you and the Ethiopians, you’ve destroyed the market for years to come. The diggers won’t be at the pyramids until an understanding is reached with the Kenyans. I don’t belong here either. It seems you’ve ruined my life, Benzamir.’

‘Then perhaps,’ he said, ‘you should come along with me. I can find you another.’

PART 3

CHAPTER 29

DESPITE THEIR NEED for haste – imperative now that the news of the theft of the book from Al Ahiz’s house was out and travelling like a ripple from Misr – they only used the flying carpet at night. Benzamir wanted their journey along the Nile valley and beyond to be as uneventful as possible, and there were compensations: it was much cooler, which became more important the further north they travelled.

Only Said was sorry that they hadn’t attempted the trip by camel.

The closer they came to Great Nairobi, the more towns and villages and farms they encountered. So much so that in recent days Benzamir had been forced to fly higher, simply to avoid detection. It exhausted the carpet, and they had had to walk while it sucked in fierce equatorial sunlight.

It was just before dawn – swift and surprising at those latitudes – and the seat of empire itself was finally visible in the distance, full of sparkling light. Below were lanterns and hearth-fires of the sprawl that fed the city.

‘See?’ said Benzamir. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll see what we can do about getting in and gaining an audience with the emperor. Tonight we’ll sleep in real beds. Right now, I need to land this thing.’

The wind tugging at their clothes lessened its grip, and Benzamir leaned out, looking for somewhere suitable. They circled a field of maize and dropped down into the middle of it. Unripe stalks bent and snapped, and they were down.

Only the strange and unfamiliar sounds of tropical Africa were heard; no voices raised in surprise or anger.

‘Right, everybody off.’

Said fell off backwards and lay amongst the corn stalks, groaning. ‘Another day of this and I swear I’d die.’

‘It was either half a moon of this or spend till the next equinox coming up the Nile by boat. And we know how much you love boats.’ Benzamir tried to stand, only to discover that his legs had gone to sleep. He had to use his hands to manoeuvre his feet from under his body and stretch them out in front of him. ‘You know, in our picture books, all the magicians sit cross-legged for journeys of vast distances. It’s only when you try it yourself that you realize just how impossible that is.’

Wahir, younger and still filled with wonder, leaped up as the sun broached the horizon, pouring heat and light across first the treetops and then the red soil. Said, still lying on his back like a sheep offering its throat for slaughter, grunted: ‘Get down, boy. You’re taller than the plants.’

He ducked down again and laid his hand on the rug-covered book. ‘Can I give this to the emperor when the time comes? Please?’

Benzamir, pins and needles burning in his muscles, shuffled around on his hands and knees to detach the spheres from the corners of the carpet. ‘Of course, Wahir. If you think you can carry it without dropping it.’

‘As long as the emperor doesn’t think I’m a gift too. I remember you saying, back in the desert, about being able to destroy the empire,’ Alessandra started, ‘but did you see it last night? The city is huge, far bigger than Misr. Full of soldiers and spies. I’m afraid even you couldn’t stop His Highness from doing whatever he wanted with any of us.’

‘No, Alessandra. No. I won’t let anyone take you away from me. Trust me.’ Benzamir surprised himself at his vehemence.

‘Oh.’

He shooed her off the carpet, turned it from rigid sheet to flexible fabric, and rolled it up. ‘First things first: we have to find our way out of this field.’

The gates of the citadel of Great Nairobi were monumental, both in size and grandeur. Covered in brass plates, they reflected the orange sun like a furnace. Those entering had to shade their eyes and hide their faces, unconsciously bowing to the edifice.

They had walked all the way, from rural farms along ever more crowded roads. Trees and crops had given way to daub houses, then to stone. Shops and markets, windmills and forges, cloth drying on lines outside dyers, wood-smoke and steam and sweat.

‘This is industry,’ said Benzamir approvingly. The road they were walking along was paved, with a camber to carry away the seasonal rains into deep ditches on either side. The ditch was bridged by stone flags, used by handcarts and people alike, and there was a purposeful clamour all around them.

Neither were they the only foreigners. Black Africans made up the majority, of different peoples and of none. White-robed penitents mixed with locals traders in their oranges and reds, wild-haired herders with bejewelled merchants. There were Arabs too, and mountain folk from the west like the imam in El Alam. Ewers, some paler than Alessandra, walked free without chains or collars.