Free Lord of the Two Lands by Judith Tarr

tired by then, and he knew what was coming, and he was completely unafraid. ‘Years will pass,’ he said, ‘but one will follow me. That one will avenge my bones.’”
    Alexander leaned toward her, intent. “He saw me?”
    “From the moment you were conceived.”
    Alexander straightened. “What am I to Egypt?”
    “Egypt is a Persian satrapy. It loathes the yoke. It longs to be free.”
    “And you think I’ll free you?”
    This was battle. It was heady, dizzying: face to face, force to force, and words flying swift and hard. “Haven’t you come to free everyone from the Parsa?”
    “The Hellenes sent me to end their long quarrel against Persia. They said nothing of Egypt.”
    “Egypt is part of Persia. Too large a part; far too unwillingly bound.”
    “Why do you hate them?”
    “Why do the Hellenes hate them?”
    “That is a very old war,” Alexander said, “and a very long one.”
    “Ours is older,” said Meriamon. “We were an empire before ever your people saw Hellas.”
    “Maybe it was time you withdrew in favor of a younger power.”
    “Maybe,” said Meriamon with a delicate show of teeth. “Maybe we prefer to choose that power.”
    “Why would you choose me? I might be no better than Artaxerxes.”
    She laughed, hurting-sharp. “No one can be worse than Artaxerxes. No, king of Macedon. My father asked who would free us from the Persian yoke. You know what the gods answered.”
    “You would free yourselves.”
    “We tried,” she said.
    There was a pause. He began to prowl restlessly, like the lion he resembled. Abruptly he turned to face her. “You’re telling me that I was made—that I was shaped—to be your gods’ pawn.”
    Perceptive, that one. “You didn’t know it?”
    He raked back his hair, almost angry, almost laughing. “I thought I was my gods’ instrument.”
    “Aren’t they all the same,” she asked, “in the end?”
    “By the dog,” he said. “I’m afflicted with an oracle.”
    “That’s a better word than sorceress,” said Meriamon.
    He looked hard at her, almost glaring. She stared steadily back. He blinked. Tilted his head. “I suppose, if I told you to go away, you’d simply keep on following me.”
    “You suppose rightly,” she said.
    The corner of his mouth twitched. “Then I won’t subject myself to that. You’re well situated, I’ve been given to understand. Would you rather be somewhere else?”
    “No,” said Meriamon, startled, and not a little for that it mattered. “No, I like sharing a tent with Thaïs.”
    “Do you?” He looked bemused. “Well, then. And Philippos has you on his roster—I approved that yesterday. All that’s wanting is a proper attendant for you.”
    “I have one,” she said.
    His eyes slid toward her shadow, and slid away again. “I’m sure it—he—does very well. I was thinking of someone a little more conventional. How is Nikolaos coming along?”
    She blinked. She hoped that that was a shift. “He’s doing well. He can get up tomorrow. I rather lied,” she confessed, “about how bad it was. To keep him from leaping up and heading straight back to the lines.”
    “With Niko,” said Alexander, “that was a very wise thing to do.” He paused, head tilted, thinking. “Good. He won’t be able to do any fighting for a while, but he should be up for light duty. I’ll see that he’s assigned to you.”
    She realized that her mouth was open. She closed it. “He may not be happy about that.”
    Alexander laughed. “I know he won’t be. It will be good for him. He’s been spoiled, what with one thing and another. Time he learned to do something he doesn’t want to do.”
    “I’m not sure I like being a punishment.”
    “You won’t be,” said Alexander, “once he stops to think. I almost wish I didn’t have to be king. I wouldn’t mind playing guardsman myself.”
    She stared at him. He was smiling at her. As if she were more than a voice. As if—of all things—he liked her.
    That had