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The Weight of Gold
The Weight of Gold
The Weight of Gold
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The Weight of Gold

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When the Magistrate of the Rhakotis District calls Heron of Alexandria—the greatest inventor the city has ever known—to help him solve the mystery of a dismembered human forearm, he learns what value there is in the weight of gold.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 7, 2013
ISBN9781301458806
The Weight of Gold
Author

Thomas K. Carpenter

Thomas K. Carpenter resides in Colorado with his wife Rachel. When he’s not busy writing his next book, he's out hiking or skiing or getting beat by his wife at cards. Visit him online at www.thomaskcarpenter.com, or sign up for his newsletter at https://www.subscribepage.com/trialsofmagic.

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    Book preview

    The Weight of Gold - Thomas K. Carpenter

    The Weight of Gold

    A Heron of Alexandria Short Story

    By

    Thomas K. Carpenter

    Copyright Information

    The Weight of Gold

    Copyright © 2013 by Thomas K. Carpenter

    The Weight of Gold Copyright © 2013

    Published by Black Moon Books at Smashwords

    www.blackmoonbooks.com

    Cover Design Copyright © Rachel J. Carpenter

    © Olgapshenichnaya | Dreamstime.com

    © Skypixel | Dreamstime.com

    Discover other titles by this author on:

    www.thomaskcarpenter.com

    All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

    TABLE OF CONTENTS

    The Weight of Gold

    Copyright

    About the Author

    Sample: Fires of Alexandria

    Start Reading Now

    The Weight of Gold

    The Magistrate of the Rhakotis District was enjoying a buttery rack of lamb drowned in pomegranate sauce when Heron - the most renowned inventor in Alexandria - arrived.

    Ave, Heron. My thanks once again for attending to my need, he said as he dabbed away a blotch of purple on his toga. I'm afraid my office must again fall upon your sharpened wit.

    The slight inventor bowed and frowned away the compliment, staring ruefully into the distance. My prowess is overexaggerated and my wares underappreciated, leaving me far too much in the company of my debts. Heron glanced up at the Magistrate and smiled. But these worries should not be aired in the sunlit halls of the great Magistrate, nor at the base of his bountiful table. For when a friend of the District calls, I must answer.

    Then join me, said the Magistrate, extending his arm in a welcoming gesture, for I have more than even my belly can hold. He patted it for good measure.

    Heron clasped his hands in front as the Magistrate was used to seeing when attending lectures in the Great Library. The inventor's gaze drifted over the table and he seemed to come to some internal conclusion.

    By the balls of Bacchus! exclaimed the Magistrate. Do not tell me that you have determined the root of my problem from analyzing my dining table.

    Heron made a tiny nod and a slight grin creased his cheek. Plato have pity, no. I can only uncover that the need is as pressing as a clutch of pickled duck eggs, or you would not have brought me to your home.

    The Magistrate picked up a piece of lightly burnt bacon, dipped it into the pomegranate sauce, popped it in his mouth, and sighed with pleasure. Yes, the need is pressing and I could not tolerate to consider it on an empty stomach. The Magistrate paused and thought about what Heron had said. But how did you know that from the pickled duck eggs?

    The mottled shell indicates a southern species, one not normally from the Egyptian region, therefore the price is undoubtedly high, despite the pickling making it taste the same as our local duck eggs. Heron reached out and rotated the almost empty bowl so the last egg was nearest the Magistrate. And you would not be feasting upon such high-priced fare unless you thought our current situation might be lucrative, thus pressing, thus, well... Heron spread his hands, ...here I am.

    Your powers of observation astound.

    Not as much as your palate. Heron bowed again.

    The Magistrate blinked hard at the last egg. I extend my amazement to your palate as well, how do you know they taste the same?

    Pickling is much the same as embalming, which the priests of Egypt use to great effect, though with different salts one would not wish to mix. I have sat in on a lecture or two about the subject and sampled the scents of the materials used. Their overwhelming odor leaves no doubt that the flavor of the duck egg is hidden.

    The Magistrate scooped up the last egg and removed the shell with a practiced slap against the table before peeling, all in one smooth motion. He gave the slightly greenish egg one last look before tossing it into his mouth and then analyzed its flavor for any discernments.

    After finishing the egg, he spoke up. Then why did I pay such a hefty price for them if they taste the same?

    The perception of value. Everything is more and less than the sum of its parts.

    The Magistrate lifted one eyebrow. I never took you for a mystic.

    The inventor took on an introspective cast. We are nothing more than what people believe we are, whatever the truth we carry inside. He clapped his hands, dispelling the moment. What problem calls me here? The fires of my workshop grow cold without ideas to fuel them.

    The Magistrate called to his servant who had been waiting nearby. When he appeared, the Magistrate watched Heron carefully to see his surprise. Heron, as he should have guessed,

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