Page 14 of Immortals and Ink

"Twenty minutes?"

"Ten."

"Fifteen. I'm a slow sketcher, but a thorough one, and Father Germanos demands thoroughness," Alexis insisted. "Or I could go and get Father Germanos to ask you himself."

The guard grunted, "Fifteen. Don't touch the statue."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Alexis said, a hand on his heart.

The guard grunted again and waved him through.

Arslan came in from the far end of the hall through the western door. He certainly had a way with doors, and Alexis couldn't help but be grateful that their paths had crossed. When Alexis turned around, Arslan was already halfway down the hall, walking softly over the mosaic.

Arslan wore the robe of a priest, carried a censer, and looked like he had been sent to bless something.

"You are very good at this," Alexis said quietly.

"Thank you. I've had lots of practice pretending to be a Christian priest. How did it go with the guard?"

"Not a problem. We have fifteen minutes."

Alexis circled the statue and laid a hand on the base. Arslan had been right, and the plinth was separate from the figure. Cast centuries apart, the figure was attached only by small copper pins. He let his magic flow from his fingers into the bronze, reading its weight and distribution.

"Two and a half tonnes, roughly," he murmured.

"That's more than the cart will take."

"The cart will take it because I'm going to take part of it through the air," Alexis explained, drawing his magic back in. "We'll lift him three feet off the plinth, and I'll hold most of his weight with a wind-bearing spell. Your men will guide the rest."

"They aren't clever, but won't they notice they're lifting a bronze hero of two and a half tonnes?" Arslan asked, his brow drawing together.

"They'll notice it's heavy, but not how heavy. I'll make sure of it."

"And the glamor?" Arslan prompted.

"When we are in the street, he will be a rolled carpet. The largest rolled carpet anyone has ever seen, but a rolled carpet all the same. People won't look twice at this time of night."

Arslan stood beside Alexis and laid his own hand on the plinth, and Alexis felt Arslan's magic for the first time clearly at close range.

Alexis's own magic was fluid like water or wind. Arslan's magic was like…ink. His art reflected how he had learned it through books, and it still held echoes of it. There was a flicker of something else, too, something ancient that had a hot sand burn. Alexis wondered if Arslan knew that he still carried Anubis's blessing.

Perhaps a conversation for another time over another hookah.

Alexis laid both hands on the base of the hero, took a centering breath, and summoned the wind to him. It raced to greet him like a well-trained dog and twined itself around the hero's legs.

Alexis lifted his hands, and there was a slight scraping sound as the copper pins parted from their sockets in the plinth. The hero hung in the air, held only by magic and Alexis's concentration.

"Dear gods," Arslan murmured, placing a hand on the floating bronze. "That's incredible."

"Yes, Lysippos really outdid himself with this one," Alexis replied, admiring the smooth lines.

"I meant the magic, Alexis."

Alexis waved the comment off. "It's easy enough once you learn how. Let's get moving before the guard decides to come and see how my sketching is going."

They walked the hero down the length of the hall, Alexis keeping the currents of air balanced around it as Arslan guided them. Within minutes, they reached the western door. Arslan whispered it open, and the hero went through and out into the colonnade.

Two guards stood at the far end, engaged in a conversation about a woman and a wager. Their backs were turned, and Alexis glanced at Arslan. Arslan held up two fingers.