‘No.’ Tomarys turned and stopped in his tracks to look down at her. He gripped her shoulders with both hands. ‘It was not nothing. In another few weeks, perhaps a month, he would have been dead. Pyramid slaves suffer a fate worse than any hell.’ He spoke forcefully, with passion. ‘Fed worse than animals. Whipped until the skin slides off their shoulders. Dozens of bodies are thrown into the river every day, where they are eaten by the crocodiles.’ The tall man’s wide mouth spread into a smile. ‘Now my brother tends horses in the stables. The money I was saving to buy his freedom will now be used to pay healers to look after my mother. If my mother’s health improves my sister will be able to find work in the bazaar. And I have you to thank.’

Tomarys looked at his hands clutching Chloe’s upper arms and released her, suddenly embarrassed. ‘I am sorry, lady.’

‘It’s fine,’ Chloe said with a smile. ‘Shall we continue?’

He nodded, and followed her as she walked to the gap between the stalls leading to the decrepit square behind. A half-dozen beggars sitting in a semicircle on the floor stared up at the pair. Chloe’s gaze instantly went to the hut where they’d last found the old man drinking tea, but there was no one there. She knew that behind the shack was the long narrow lane where the boy had given them the soma flowers. She wondered what to do.

Chloe had managed to ease the sun king’s pain, but he had soon finished all the tea she could brew, despite her admonishment to eke out the medicine over a period of time. Now, just a few days after her last visit to the market, the sun king had given Tomarys silver and asked her to make more.

As soon as possible after being charged with her task, Chloe had left for the market. If she’d waited long enough for the magus to hear that she was buying more flowers he might have insisted on going with her, which was the last thing she wanted.

She had to buy more flowers. And this time she needed to find more than two.

‘We should not spend long here,’ Tomarys cautioned.

Scanning the area, Chloe wondered if she should look inside the shack. Slowly, she walked closer to the shadowy opening and called out. ‘Hello?’

Tomarys walked forward to stand slightly in front of her, holding her back with an arm, as they both spied movement inside.

The old man with the pockmarked face and hooked nose slowly emerged. He was licking each greasy finger in turn as he walked toward them, making grotesque sounds of enjoyment. He stopped in front of them and wiped his hands on his coarse brown trousers.

‘I remember you,’ he said. ‘What do you want?’

‘We need more flowers.’