I went back to see Thalia.

'Oh you again, Falco!'

'Routine enquiries... Can you confirm for me, please, that two nights ago a certain Philadelphion, Zoo Keeper of this locality was - as he is now claiming - engaged with you for several hours in innocent discussion of an animal he calls a catoblepas?'

Thalia looked vague. 'Oh yes; now you mention it, we might have been.'

I seethed. 'Never mind what in Hades is a catoblepas catoblepas -' -'

She drew herself up. This was always impressive. 'A kind of wildebeest, Falco.'

'Philadelphion called it legendary'

'Maybe yes, maybe no.'

'This strange dispute kept you entertained all evening?'

'He refused to see it my way. He told me what he thinks - and I put him straight. The beast hails from Ethiopia, has the head of a buffalo and the body of a hog - or is it the other way around? The name means it looks downwards, anyway. Rumour says its horrible stare or its breath can either turn people into stone or kill them.'

'That sounds like rubbish.'

'In my opinion,' replied Thalia, 'with which, when I put it to him properly, the Zoo Keeper agreed, a catoblepas is the same as the b.l.o.o.d.y big antelope I know as a gnu.'

'A what?'

'A g-n-u.'

'Fabulous...' I controlled my lungs, while wishing my my breath could kill people. 'So you pair were locked in debate about the origins of this suppositions creature for how long?' breath could kill people. 'So you pair were locked in debate about the origins of this suppositions creature for how long?'

'Suppositions? Don't come here with your big words, Falco.' Don't come here with your big words, Falco.'

'How long?'

'Oh... about four hours,' wheezed Thalia.

'Don't even begin to hope I'll believe that.'

'Falco, when I visit Alexandria, we always observe the customs of the desert. Perhaps we aren't actually in in the desert - but it's close enough. So most of the time the Keeper and I were sitting cross-legged in my tent, having a respectable bowl of mint tea.' the desert - but it's close enough. So most of the time the Keeper and I were sitting cross-legged in my tent, having a respectable bowl of mint tea.'

'Mint tea? Is that what they call it around here?' I demanded caustically.

'You do go on, Falco.'

'I know you of old. You said most of the time. And the rest?'

'What do you think?'

'I think I feel sorry for Davos.'

'Davos isn't here to complain. Jason got a bit jealous - snakes can be touchy - but he knows it wasn't serious and he's all right about it now...'

'When I first asked, you implied you hardly knew Philadelphion.'

'Oh, did I?'

'Don't mess me about. I a.s.sume you have in fact known him well for years?'

'Professional contact.Since before his hair went white.'

'Roxana presumably knows that. So her suspicions of him were fully justified?'

'Oh Roxana!' Thalia grumbled. 'Can't she overlook a little bit of fun between old friends?' Thalia grumbled. 'Can't she overlook a little bit of fun between old friends?'

'Your ''fun'' got a boy killed by mistake.'

Then a shadow did darken Thalia's face. Whatever her att.i.tude to adult behaviour, she always had tender feelings for the young.

XLI.

This was turning into a drear morning. Either people gave me the run-around or they came clean with stories I preferred not to know.

Next, I tracked down the lawyer. That was never going to cheer me up.

Only a fool would expect Nicanor to confess to anything. I knew if he did, there would be some tricky technicality that would get him off - probably with me looking stupid. I was spared that: he denied everything. According to him, he had never looked at Roxana and had no desire to beat Philadelphion to the librarianship. 'Let the best man win, I say!'

I asked if he had any kind of alibi for the night Heras died. Again, I was wasting my breath. Nicanor declared he had been alone in his room at the Museion. Since he was a lawyer, he knew this was completely useless. His arrogance made me wish I had the key to the padlock on Sobek's enclosure and a goat to lure the crocodile out to eat Nicanor.

That made me wonder who did have the key to the padlock. I wasted more time returning to the zoo to ask, only to remember I had been told. Philadelphion had one complete set of keys which was with him in Thalia's tent when they were 'drinking mint tea'. The other set hung in his office for the use of his staff. Chaereas and Chaeteas would have taken it when they visited Sobek to tuck him up for the night but they said they returned it. However, while Philadelphion was dallying the office had remained open, so anybody could have removed the keys again. who did have the key to the padlock. I wasted more time returning to the zoo to ask, only to remember I had been told. Philadelphion had one complete set of keys which was with him in Thalia's tent when they were 'drinking mint tea'. The other set hung in his office for the use of his staff. Chaereas and Chaeteas would have taken it when they visited Sobek to tuck him up for the night but they said they returned it. However, while Philadelphion was dallying the office had remained open, so anybody could have removed the keys again.

I asked about the half-goat. Food for various carnivores came from local butchers, generally unsold stock that was on the turn. Until use, it was stored in a shed, which was kept locked to prevent the poor stealing the meat for food. The key was on the same bunch that was kept in the office.

Disheartened, I went to dig out Aulus, to take him for a late lunch.

Helena Justina arrived with the same idea as I was walking to the Library. We all went together, along with Pastous, who took us to a fish restaurant he recommended. I calmed down on the walk there. There was really no need for Helena to send me that look of hers saying, Do not tell Pastous your opinion of lousy foreign fish restaurants. not tell Pastous your opinion of lousy foreign fish restaurants. Which is: that you can never tell what anything is because fish have different names everywhere; that the waiters are trained to be rude and blind and diddle change; and that eating fish abroad is the fast way to experience whatever killing diarrhoea that town is famous for. Pastous was right, however. It was a good restaurant. It had enthralling views over the Western Harbour, where the mist had cleared today and we could see the Lighthouse. Among more mysterious names were recognisable varieties - shad, mackerel and bream. Which is: that you can never tell what anything is because fish have different names everywhere; that the waiters are trained to be rude and blind and diddle change; and that eating fish abroad is the fast way to experience whatever killing diarrhoea that town is famous for. Pastous was right, however. It was a good restaurant. It had enthralling views over the Western Harbour, where the mist had cleared today and we could see the Lighthouse. Among more mysterious names were recognisable varieties - shad, mackerel and bream.

While we were eating, Aulus and Pastous told Helena and me what they had managed to deduce from the old man's note-tablets. They were full of complaints. Nibytas had left a haphazard jumble. His handwriting was particularly difficult. Not only did he run words together without s.p.a.ces, but his cursive frequently deteriorated into little more than one long squiggly line. Sometimes, too, he used the papyrus back-side up.

'You know papyrus, Falco,' Pastous explained, as he spoke adeptly taking apart a fish he had called a tilapia. 'It is made by cutting thin strips of reed, then placing two layers crossways; the first goes top to bottom, the next is placed on top of it, running from side to side. These layers are compressed until they coalesce; to make a scroll, sheets are glued together so each overlaps the one on its right. For preference, people then write on the side with the grain running sideways and the joins easy to cross. This is smooth for the pen, but if you reverse it, your nib constantly hits ridges. Your writing is rough and your ink blurs.'

I let him tell me all this, though in fact I knew it. I must have been enjoying my lunch so much it mellowed me. 'So Nibytas was becoming confused?'

'Obviously had been for years,' declared Aulus.

'And could you make any sense of what he was doing?' asked Helena.

'Compiling an encyclopaedia, all the world's known animals. A bestiary.'

'Everything,' elaborated Pastous in some awe, 'from the aigicampoi (Etruscan fish-tailed goats) and the pardalocampoi (Etruscan fish-tailed panthers), through the sphinx, the androsphinx, the phoenix, the centaur, the Cyclops, the hippocampus, triple-headed Cerberus, the bronze-hoofed bull, the Minotaur, the winged horse, the metallic Stymphalian birds right up to Typhon the winged, snake-legged giant.'

'Not to mention,' added Aulus gloomily, 'Scylla, the human-c.u.m-snake-c.u.m-wolf hybrid, who has a snake's tail, twelve wolf legs, and six long-necked wolf heads.'

'And no doubt the legendary catoblepas?' I could show off too.

'Whatever that is,' Pastous confirmed, sounding as depressed as Aulus.

'Most likely a gnu.'

'A what?' Aulus looked scathing. Aulus looked scathing.

'G-n-u.'

'G-n-obody has ever seen one?'

'G-n-ot as far as I know'

Pastous remained serious. 'The old man's method is not acceptably scientific. Nibytas wrote a strange mixture; he included both true technical data and far-fetched nonsense. Made available to others, such a collection would be dangerous. The quality of the best parts would convince readers that they could trust the myths as factual.'

'He evidently managed to pa.s.s himself off well,' Aulus said. 'He corresponded with scholars all over the educated world - even some old fellow called Plinius in Rome consulted him quite seriously, some friend of the Emperor's.'

'We had better warn him off,' Helena suggested.

'Do not be involved,' Pastous advised her, smiling. 'These dedicated scholars can be surprisingly unpleasant if you cross them.'

'Did Nibytas ever snap?'

'He became very worked up sometimes.'

'Over what?' I asked. I asked.

'Small things he felt were being organised badly. He had high standards, perhaps the standards of a past age.'

'So he made complaints?'

'Constantly. Perhaps he was right, but he would be so angry and he made so many complaints, in the end no one took him seriously' Perhaps he was right, but he would be so angry and he made so many complaints, in the end no one took him seriously'

This made me thoughtful. 'Can you remember any of these complaints, Pastous? Who did he complain to, can you tell me that?'

'The Librarian. He had been badgering Theon a lot recently, though I cannot tell you what about. I overheard an exchange, but it was only part of the conversation; I think they realised I was nearby and both of them dropped their voices. Nibytas, the old man, snorted fiercely '' He had been badgering Theon a lot recently, though I cannot tell you what about. I overheard an exchange, but it was only part of the conversation; I think they realised I was nearby and both of them dropped their voices. Nibytas, the old man, snorted fiercely ''I will go over your head about it, to the Director!'' will go over your head about it, to the Director!'' Theon did not try to stop him; he just replied in a rather sad voice, Theon did not try to stop him; he just replied in a rather sad voice, ''Believe me, there will be no point. ''Believe me, there will be no point.''' Pastous paused. 'Falco, is this important?'

I could only shrug. 'Without knowing the subject, how can I say?'

Helena leaned forwards. 'Pastous, would you say the Librarian was depressed about this conversation?'

'He seemed in deepest gloom,' Pastous answered gravely. 'As if utterly defeated.'

'He did not care?' asked Aulus.

'No, Camillus Aelia.n.u.s; I felt he cared very much. It was as if he thought to himself, let Nibytas make a fuss if he wanted. Dissuading Nibytas was too hard. Speaking to the Director would achieve nothing, but there was nothing to lose by it.'

'Did you feel the Librarian himself might already have raised the subject - whatever it was - fruitlessly with Philetus?'

Pastous considered. 'Very likely, Falco.'

I picked my teeth discreetly. 'I saw Philetus earlier today, leaving the Library. Is it like him to make visits?'

'Not in normal times - though since we lost the Librarian he comes along to see us. He walks around. He inspects the scrolls. He asks if there are any problems.'

'You could say that was good practice!' Helena murmured, being fair.

I scoffed. 'Or think he was up to something! What does inspecting the scrolls entail?'

'Gazing at the shelves.Making little notes on a tablet. Asking what the staff believe are trick questions, to see if they are doing their jobs.'

'How's that?'

'He requests peculiar books - old works, material in unusual subjects - then when we produce them, he just makes one of his notes and sends them back to be reshelved.'

'Hmm. Pastous, what do you know of a man called Diogenes?'

Before he answered, Pastous laid his knife in his bowl and pushed the empty bowl away from him. He spoke very formally: 'I have had no dealings with this man. So I have nothing against him.'

Aulus picked up on that, grinning slightly. 'But you think you ought to be suspicious!'

Pastous smiled back. 'Should I?'

I said, 'The first time I saw this Diogenes, I immediately felt I would not like what he did. Occasionally people have that effect. Sometimes, it is just unfortunate for them that they give such a bad impression -but sometimes the gut feeling they inspire is exactly right.'

'Who is he?' asked Helena.

'Philetus calls him as a scroll-seller.'

'He buys too,' stated Pastous, with an air of infinite sadness. He had both palms against the edge of the table where we were sitting, while he stared at the board about a foot from his hands, not meeting anybody's eye.

I let out a low whistle. Then I said, matching his regret, 'Don't tell me: he tries to buy scrolls from the Library?'

'I have heard that, Falco.'

'Theon used to give him the b.u.m's rush - the Director sees it differently?'

'Whatever Philetus is doing,' answered Pastous, his voice now extremely gentle, 'I have no idea. I am below the level at which such an important man would share his confidence.'

He was a library administrator. His life there was quiet, orderly and on the whole free from anxiety or excitement. He worked with the world's knowledge, an abstract concept; it could cause dissension, though rarely to the extent of physical violence. If library staff ever see anyone attacked - and of course it must happen, for they are dealing with the public, a mad crew - it tends to be a sudden, inexplicable outburst from someone who is mentally unstable. Libraries do attract such people; they act as a refuge for them.

But deliberate harm is almost never levelled at librarians. They know time-wasters, book thieves and ink-spilling desecraters of great works - but they are not targets for hit-men. It was all the more chilling, therefore, when this open, clearly honest man at last raised his eyes and looked at me directly.