Heralds arrived to announce that the sophē had come to the Lokhias Promontory and would shortly be at the royal residence. The counselors cleared the court and Kleopatra was surrounded by her flies, as she called them—her chamberlains and makeup maids, wiping sweat from her brow, powdering her cheeks and nose, arranging her robes around the golden throne. Across the courtyard, standing half in shadow and half in sun, was the phalanx of royal security. When they divided into two lines, one on each side of the portal, Kleopatra would assume her Attitude and welcome the sophē.

The lines formed and the heralds went through their wearisome rituals.

The date was Sōthis 4, old-style, Arkhimēdēs 27, new-style.

Kleopatra sat patiently on her throne, made of cedar from the troublesome hierarchy of Ioudeia, sometimes called Nea Phoenikia, sipping sparkling water from Gallia out of a cup manufactured in Metascythia. Thus in every single day she tried to utilize goods from the nomes, polities and friendly nations all around, knowing that they would feel honored and that their peoples would feel proud for serving the oldest of the old empires, the Alexandrian Oikoumenē. It would be well for the sophē to see Kleopatra fulfilling her duties, for in truth the young queen had little else to do; the Boulē and the Council of Elected Speakers now made the truly important decisions, in the Athenian manner.

The great bronze doors of Theotokopolos swung wide and the procession began. Kleopatra ignored the rapidly swelling crowd of courtiers and chamberlains and petty politicians. Her eyes went immediately to the sophē Patrikia, entering the chamber supported on the arms of her two sons, themselves middle-aged.

The priestess wore a gown of black Chin-Ch'ing silk, simple and elegant, with a star above one breast and a moon above the other. Her hair was long, still luxuriantly thick and dark; her face appeared youthful despite her seventy-four years, her eyes black and square and penetrating. Kleopatra met those eyes with difficulty; they seemed dangerous, too provocative.

"Welcome," she said, deliberately eschewing all the ceremony. "Come sit. I am told we have things to discuss."

"Oh, yes, we do, my beautiful queen," the sophē said, stepping away from the arms of her sons and approaching the throne, one hand lifting the long hem of her gown. She was very spry, actually; no doubt she retained her sons in the temple for their own good, and not hers; the Oikoumenē was not the easiest place to find employment these days.

Patrikia sat on the pillow-covered chair, a body length below the queen's throne, and lifted her face to Kleopatra, eyes bright with excitement.

"I am also told you have brought some of your wonderful instruments, to show them to me, and reveal their purposes," Kleopatra said.

"If I may. . . ?"

"By all means."