The Pillars of Hercules by David Constantine Page A

here.”
    Hephaestion pondered this. “True.”
    “We’re lost in the middle of nowhere, and that’s all you can say?”‘
    “What else would you have me say?” Hephaestion’s horse whinnied as sand lashed against it. “If this sandstorm doesn’t let up, we’re fucked anyway. We could pass within a few yards of the Oasis and never notice.”
    “There are no roads,” said Eumenes, and the words echoed in his head. “No roads. And we’re down to our last dregs of water.”
    “Sure. We’re in the hands of the gods now.”
    “Maybe one doesn’t have to reach Siwah to hear the oracle’s answer.”
    “We wouldn’t be the first to never make it. Cambyses—”
    “Don’t talk to me about Cambyses,” snarled Eumenes. Anger rose in him like the hot wind that swirled around them. “Think about all the others who didn’t make it. Wayward travelers, lost caravans, seekers of infinity—and all too many found it. A good half of those who try to make Siwah never do.”
    “I realize that,” said Hephaestion.
    “Then why didn’t you say something to Alexander?”
    “Why didn’t you ?”
    “I think we both know you have a little more influence.”
    “Zeus, man. No one influences him. He follows one voice, and that’s his own. Both strength and Achilles’ heel, no? Who else would think to cut the Gordian knot? Who else would be so bold as to strike at Egypt without warning?”
    “His father may have something to say about that if he ever gets the chance.”
    Hephaestion laughed harshly. “I think Alexander thinks his real father’s somewhere out ahead of us.”
    “Or above us,” said Eumenes, pointing straight up. Through the ceiling of sand overhead, fragments of blue sky were starting to appear. The storm was slackening, dropping as suddenly as it had come on that morning. Eumenes looked around, saw that the desert landscape around them was slowly becoming visible.
    “Thank the gods,” said Hephaestion.
    “That may be premature,” said Eumenes.
    Hephaestion nodded. Both men looked around as the curtain of sand gradually fell back into the desert all about them. The sun began to beat back down upon them with relentless heat. Its light revealed that there were scarcely a score left of what had once been a hundred-man expedition. Hephaestion and Eumenes spurred their spent horses forward to where the lead figure was riding. He didn’t turn around as they came up alongside him.
    “Alexander,” said Hephaestion.
    Alexander didn’t answer.
    “My prince,” said Eumenes.
    Still he said nothing. Didn’t look at them either. Hephaestion looked alarmed—reached out to take his shoulder.
    “The crows,” said Alexander suddenly. Hephaestion’s hand dropped back to his side. He looked around, confused.
    “I don’t follow—”
    “The crows,” hissed Alexander. Eumenes looked at Alexander’s sand-covered face—looked out along his field of vision, looked all the way toward sand-smeared horizon. He blinked. Alexander’s eyes were better than his.
    And then he saw it.
    “Birds,” he muttered.
    “They’re crows,” said Alexander.
    “Crows,” said Hephaestion. “Of course.”
    “The oasis,” said Eumenes. “Thanks be to Zeus.”
    “Now at last I’ll hear what He has to say,” said Alexander.
    He led them in toward Siwah.
     
    “So this is the hub around which it all turns, eh?”
    Matthias pulled himself up onto the deck to join Lugorix and Barsine. She shot him an annoyed look, pushed past him, and began climbing back down the ladder. Matthias looked at Lugorix, shrugged.
    “What’s bugging her?” he asked.
    “You,” replied Lugorix. “I think she wanted to enjoy the view in peace.”
    Against the setting sun, it was quite a spectacle. They were still a good half mile off the shoreline itself, beyond which stretched the first layer of Athenian skyline—a sprawl of towers and monuments that put those which had stood at Alcibiadia to shame. Lugorix had never imagined a city