Out of the House of Life

Chapter 1 "Are you still up? Paille? It must be close on three." Alain Baundilet was sitting on a sack of grain toward the aft of the dhow, his features unreadable in the light of the waning moon. Jean-Marc Paille started at the unexpected words, then did his best to appear calm. "I didn't see you there," he said. "Small wonder," Baundilet sighed. "There's another sack, a little way along the deck, if you want it." He took his huge linen handkerchief and swabbed at the back of his neck. "I can't sleep when it's like this, so hot and still." "It's like suffocating," said Jean-Marc, trying to sound more experienced than he was. He pulled out his watch and squinted at it in the sudden glare as he struck a lucifer and held it near the lace. "I make it two forty-nine." Baundilet chuckled. "Suffocating at two forty-nine. Or smothering. The sheets were more weight than I wanted to bear. The air is weight enough. Well, at least my wife isn't with me. Can you imagine anyone lying close to you in this heat? It's unthinkable." He smoothed his lapels. "She's one to droop in the heat, in any case. I'd never bring her here; it wouldn't be right." "You left your wife at home?" Jean-Marc asked, horrified that anyone could do such a thing. "Better than having her here." He sensed the younger man's disapproval and raised his hand placatingly. "Good God man, look around you. You see what the Moslems are. Look at this place. This is no country for a Frenchwoman. We have other things to occupy our thoughts. Wives get underfoot, Paille, as you'll find out as soon as you acquire one." He slapped at his neck suddenly. "Damned mosquito. Big as a beetle." He stared at his fingers, but could not tell if he had killed the insect or not. "Lots of beetles in Egypt, and they're not all scarabs, either. I found one digging, last month. Thing was as big as my hand, I swear it was. It gave off the most appalling stench." "Oh," said Jean-Marc, the matter of wives forgotten; he was enchanted by what he heard, though he was not very fond of beetles; he was caught up in the thrill of his adventure. "You've got to be careful digging," Baundilet went on, enjoying the way Jean-Marc listened to him as if mesmerized. "It's not just beetles you have to look out for. Scorpions, now they're what you have to be careful of out here. They're deadly, for one thing, and you don't always see them. One of the natives took a bite from a scorpion not long ago; his suffering was dreadful. So take no chances. Be careful of scorpions. Snakes, too, though some of them aren't very dangerous. Don't take risks with them, either, whatever they're like. Better safe than sorry, that's my way." He looked up at the sails. "The designs haven't changed very much, you know. That lateen-like rig, and the long reach up the river. Going upstream, the wind's almost at your back. Coming down, you must use the current and the boats are harder to control. This river shapes everything in Egypt. It always has. The ships of the Pharaohs wouldn't look too out of place today, at least not the ordinary ships." "Have you found any references to ships in your studies?" Jean-Marc asked it eagerly, and cursed himself for sounding naive. He changed his tone, making it more confident, or so he hoped. "Have you someYarbro, Chelsea Quinn is the author of 'Out of the House of Life' with ISBN 9780312890261 and ISBN 0312890265.