City of Dreams Read Online Free PDF

groaning logs with infinite slowness. A fresh team of men gathered the logs from the rear as they became redundant and hurried to place them under the nose of the obelisk as the oxen, their patient heads held low with effort, steadily plodded across the baked earth of the harbour square.
    Huy had been joined by a small group of children, pausing on their way to school, who were dividing their curious stares between the oxen and himself — this unusual man who did not appear to have anything to do. Feeling self-conscious, Huy set off across the square in the same direction as the haulage team, soon overtaking it and disappearing into the labyrinth of little streets to the south, in the midst of which he lived. Already the day was growing hot, and the mixed smells of fish and spices, so familiar that he barely noticed them, rose to greet him.
    His house, like those of his neighbours in the block, was two-storeyed and narrow-fronted, with an open roof terrace. It had a yard at the back and — a bonus — faced not another row of similar houses, but a small square. At this time of day it was all but deserted as most of the people who lived in the district worked on the River or in the markets, which meant that they were up and gone before dawn. Those who did not had other work — in the brothels or the food houses — which meant that most of them would not rise before noon. Huy, who had succumbed to consolation since Aset left him, knew some of the girls by now.
    He paused at the entrance of the square to look across at his house. It seemed forlorn and closed up, and he considered not going in, but turning right and following the narrow street another two hundred paces to where it opened into another square. There, a shabby acacia-wood door under a faded sign which read ‘City of Dreams’ led to a series of semi-basement rooms. In them, for a price, for a modest kite of silver, you could drink, eat, or make love, at any time. The madam, a forty-year-old Nubian of immense fatness called Nubenehem, had told Huy on his first visit that she was in the business of round-the-clock solace.
    But that kind of solace was not much good to Huy anymore; he needed something more substantial: a replacement for Aset, not a substitute. He put the idea away and crossed the square to his home.
    Reaching behind the cheap tamarisk door he located the stone bolt and found it already released.
    On his guard, he pushed the door inward cautiously and descended the three steps which led directly to the whitewashed living room. A glance around told him that everything was in its place. A low table and three chairs formed the principal furniture, together with a built-in raised-brick dais spread with palm matting and a decorated linen sheet for use as a day bed during the afternoon sleep. The images of Bes and Horus looked down undisturbed from their niches.
    Huy stood in the centre of the room, straining his ears to catch any sound from upstairs. None came from above the wooden ceiling, but that did not necessarily prove that there was no one there.
    Looking quickly at the steps which led up to the two bedrooms, he moved stealthily past them towards the curtained doorway at the back of the room which led to the kitchen and bathroom beyond. In neither was there any sign of disturbance, though it was clear that both had been used. The limestone washing slab in the bathroom was wet, as was its low surrounding wall. The red pottery water vessels were empty, and a rough linen towel, though neatly folded, had clearly been used. In the kitchen, a crust of herb bread lay on a wooden platter next to an empty beaker which had contained red beer.
    Huy was about to check the back yard of the house when a slight sound coming from the living room made him freeze. Someone was descending the stairs. He moved quickly along the short corridor which connected the kitchen with the living room and drew the curtain aside.
    The man on the stairs stopped where he was and