“It’s delicious.”
“Yes,” Mahu said around a mouthful of bread. “Wait until you try the sour barley.”
Of course, that was delectable too. Hearty and dense. Daka dunked it into the stew as the two were made for each other. “I can see why you like it here.”
“How long have you been in Naukratis?”
“One night. This is the second.”
“Are you traveling alone?”
“I am. My family are in Rhakotis.”
“Why did you leave them?”
Daka paused mid-bite. He’d left because he longed for independence. Though his family was loving, their shadows were enormous, and Daka sought the sun for himself. But how to explain that to a man who’d lost everyone he loved? Also, he wished to explore his human side, to know it as well as he knew the demon.
Mahu grew still. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me to ask. Forgive me.”
“No, no,” Daka rushed to say. “It’s all right, I was only thinking.” He set his bread upon the plate and took a gulp of the beer. Divine. He’d eat here often. Already he hoped Mahu would join him again. “Like Imi, I’m the youngest of my clan. I’ve never really been on my own. I suppose I wanted to know what it was like.”
“And what has it been like?”
Daka thought of Wen and the quail, but he could not tell that story either. “Pleasant. Perhaps a little lonely. I’m glad to have found you. Last night I ate alone.”
Mahu tilted his head. “What made you decide to approach me for company and not someone younger like yourself?”
The way you walk, your lovely hair, that your every movement enraptures me. I was hungry. You looked tasty. I could go on…“You aren’t much older.”
Mahu laughed. “Surely I am. How old are you? No more than twenty, you can’t be.”
“Twenty-two,” said Daka, perhaps a tad indignantly.
“Do not be disgruntled. Your youth is a gift. Not a line mars your lovely skin.”
Daka heated at the compliment. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-nine. Forty later this summer. I could be your father.”
Daka’s mind immediately flashed to bed play. The heat must surely be coloring his cheeks. He glanced at Mahu through his lashes, a trick he knew men liked. “I don’t have a father.”
Mahu didn’t quite take that as it was meant, but Daka hadn’t thought he would.
“I’m sorry. Did the sickness take him too?”
“No, I’ve never known him. I’m not sure my mother even knows who he was.” Admitting such a thing was risky, but Daka didn’t want to lie to Mahu, not any more than he had to. “I’ve never needed a father. My mother has given me all I could ever want.”
They finished their meals in pleasant conversation. The longer Daka spent with Mahu, the more he liked the man. He was kind, thoughtful, and listened with his whole attention. Daka needn’t have worried over what they would talk about. Topics flowed between them like the waters of the Nile, plentiful and steady.
When they rose to go, already Daka looked forward to when next they would meet. Of course, he could scent Mahu again. Follow him. Make sure their paths crossed. Or, he could try—
“What are you doing tomorrow?” As the words left his mouth, Daka regretted them. Did he seem too eager? Would Mahu think him pathetic?
But Mahu only smiled. “I will make papyrus. It’s what I do every day, at a little shop not far from the fountain where we met. Would you like to see?”
Daka’s chest swelled with happiness. He didn’t try to hide his excitement. “I would love to.”
“Then I will fetch you tomorrow. Come to the fountain at high noon, and I will give you the grand tour. And by grand, I actually mean quite small. The shop is no bigger than Herit’s tavern.”
