Free The City of Refuge: Book 1 of The Memphis Cycle by Diana Wilder Page A

“You just said it was safe. Were you fibbing?”
    “Come back here at once, Your Grace!” Nehesi shouted. “At least until we can see what we're actually dealing with!”
    The echo of Nebamun's voice held an undeniable smile. “Palaces of stone… Black, fathomless temples, a processional way leading down and down into the chambers of the earth's very heart... As though here, in this mountain, we have found the womb from which will be born the bones of countless structures yet to be built over the next millennia...”
    Nehesi was glaring into the darkness with his fists clenched and his head thrown back. “Your Grace's bones will be sleeping in a bed of rock if you don't come back at once!” he gritted through his teeth.
    “It's no use, Nehesi,” Mersu muttered. “You know you can't argue with His Grace when he's in this mood.”
    Nebamun's voice, even more distant, floated back, “I seem to remember a certain stonemason telling me once that mine and quarry collapses can be caused by echoes...”
    “Your Grace!” cried Nehesi.
    “Magnificent!” Nebamun’s voice was detached and serene. “How can anyone be despairing inside such a monumental calm?” He paused, as though weighing his words. “Or ill tempered, for that matter?”
    The voice was approaching now; and Nehesi relaxed. “Try prying the rock out of the hillside while working under a deadline,” he retorted. “And see how calm you feel at the end of the day!”
    Khonsu, looking over Nehesi's shoulder into the darkness, registered a moment of concern over the approaching sound of quick, unsteady feet. He had posted guards outside; he mentally consigned the runner to them
    They heard a low chuckle. Lord Nebamun materialized into their view from the darkness as a low hum of voices came to them from beyond the entry. “You think I am an unmitigated idiot, don't you, Nehesi?” he asked with an uncharacteristic grin.
    The Nubian's dark face creased into a relieved smile. “I think Your Grace is not a stonemason. There'll be bustle and pressure aplenty once we start working this quarry.”
    Nebamun heard the voices from the entry and cocked his head to listen. “Will it be possible?”
    Nehesi rubbed his chin with one powerful, gnarled hand. “I need to clear the debris and take a good look at the stone. Give me two weeks to be certain.”
    “Done,” Nebamun agreed.
    “Commander!”
    Khonsu turned around. Paser was leading one of Khonsu's soldiers, who, staggering with exhaustion, caught his foot on the uneven floor and sagged forward to his knees.
    “Commander! It's collapsed!” His words jerked out in gasps.
    “What?” Khonsu asked.
    Nebamun's smile vanished. “What is it?” he demanded.
    “An accident!” the man panted. “The smaller, square temple!”
    “The temple?” Khonsu repeated.
    The messenger dragged a deep breath into his lungs and squared his shoulders. “It fell!”
    “What temple?” Nebamun demanded.
    “South of the city, Your Reverence! The smaller, square one the Heretic built!”
    “ Maru-Aten !” Nebamun gasped. The word made Mersu stare. “ What happened? ”
    “It fell like a cataract of stone! Captain Karoya and Physician Sennefer were inside it when it went!”

 
    X
     
    Nebamun gave the messenger one horrified look and ran to the quarry entrance. “Smoke, there at the foot of the cliffs! And a glitter, east of the river!”
    Khonsu shaded his eyes and frowned through the haze. “Like sun upon weapons.”
    “ Weapons? ” Paser repeated, elbowing in beside the Second Prophet.
    Khonsu ignored him. “I see it clearly, Your Grace,” his voice urgent, highly alert. “A host of men!”
    Nebamun turned to the messenger. “Were Karoya and the physician hurt?”
    “I don't know yet, Your Grace. I was told to go to you at once.”
    “Did you come afoot?”
    “No, Your Grace. Three chariots are down below.” He looked at Khonsu for reassurance. “I thought it best to bring Your Grace and the Commander