Marfisa looked closely at the necklace. It was made of gold chains fashioned in the shape of a snake twisting around an egg, on which were engraved two pairs of concentric circles: one light and one dark. Dust and time had not scratched it, but what enchantment it had on it Marfisa could not tell.  

"Apparently it's just a gold fey necklace forgotten by who knows who, who knows how long ago..." said Marfisa, wearing the pendant, "...and who knows what powers it hides." 

"I wonder what the satyrs would think if they found out we took it from a tomb," said Rolandus.  

“I certainly don't go and tell them,” said Marfisa. "I would also say that we are better able to use them than the dead. It would be a crime to leave it to oblivion." 

As she walked down the corridor, Marfisa looked at the necklace for clues. She held her eyes. She looked at this side, then at this other side, finally at this one again. When she turned the side for the third time, they heard a loud crash behind them. The statue was moving and coming off its pedestal to get into position to chase them. 

Well, my lords, I told you there would be trouble, and I was not the only one to say so.  

"I knew it! Run! I had this feeling, and I was right..." said Rolandus, "...maybe he just wants his necklace back. Give it back to him!" 

He was literally heading toward them slowly as he kept an eye on them. This is something even Marfisa does not know, but satyrs have the potential to create animated statues that act as guardians of tombs and places like that. Satyrs get artists and artisans to create the statues and then through a combination of magic and mechanics they can join objects, doors, passages with statues and transform them into guardians of stone or metal: if someone removes the object or interferes with it, the guardian will come to life and people who have trespassed end up in trouble. 

He followed them. Was he planning something threatening? He was only walking behind them with his spear. It was carved from his own marble, so he couldn't throw it, but that didn't make them feel safer.   

He wasn't running, he couldn't shoot. He was a stone statue and had the qualities of physical properties and physical manoeuvrability of marble. He had actually been enchanted, but he could not do anything that a statue that could move could not do. His only purpose was just to keep people out of that place, and he would never get tired until he had accomplished his task.  

"I guess he will follow the path of the necklace," said Marfisa, taking a fleeting glance at her companion. "No, I'm not going to throw it yet. Keep moving. I'm going to climb. Let’s get out of the stables and kick the trapdoor shut." 

They quickened their pace, then ran, finally throwing themselves out of the trapdoor where the statue lost interest in following them and turned back.  

"Apparently it is only there to protect the actual tomb. He doesn't care about the necklace," said Rolandus. "Anyway, that's the last time I help you in a folly like that." 

Marfisa looked closely at the necklace: there seemed to be nothing fey-like about it. It was a simple gold chain fashioned by satyrs. 

"There is still the problem of nine bandits sleeping nearby," said Marfisa.  

"No problem because now we're going to slip away," said Rolandus, who had never been so happy to ride a horse.  

After this small crazy adventure, they left the ruins of the castle. They didn't do too badly. They have a semi-normal weapon. Nothing magical or something like that. Just more balanced and more adaptable and made also of more valuable materials, that's all. They also gained a good load of silver pieces from the chest. They came across ruins and found that there was a tomb under it. 

"It might be useful to remember that there might be tombs under many ruins..." said Marfisa, "...it may be useful." 

"And next time we will not loot statues. This is the first and last statue you will loot" said Rolandus.  

Marfisa merely gave him another apple from his rucksack to keep him silent. Now they know that the ruins also tend to be haunts for cynocephali and other such creatures.  

They quickly crossed the forest, zigzagging through the hills and leaving behind trees rivers and villages. For the next few days, they spoke little as they travelled, except to orient themselves to the road and comment on the gentle scenery. 

Despite the sunny tone of his voice, Rolandus soon noticed that something was wrong with Marfisa, and he was sure of it when he saw her swaying in the saddle.  

"Hello? Are you okay?" said Rolandus.  

"Yes, I'm fine," said Marfisa.  

Despite such words, Marfisa continued to sway.  

"I feel a little tired..." said Marfisa stopping completely. She rubbed her eyes and said: "...my vision is fogging up."  

"Are you all right?" repeated Rolandus.  

"Yes, it's just...we've been riding for a long time..." said Marfisa before putting her hand to her forehead, "...I think I even caught a cold diving into the water." 

Marfisa clearly needed a break. In fact, even by looking at her, one could see her slightly feverish.  

"I'll drive," propose Rolandus.  

"...".  

"What?"  

"...".  

"What?!"  

"Do you know how to lead a horse?" 

"Yes." 

"..." 

"Maybe" 

"..." 

"I'll know how to keep him straight!"  

Rolandus looked around, searching for anything that might help.  

"Calm down! Look, I'm not dying," said Marfisa, setting herself down on a rock and massaging her forehead.  

Rolandus climbed to the top of a tree. He was very fast, very diligent and above all very concerned about Marfisa. As he climbed yet another tree, he saw in the distance on a small mountain a tower enclosed in long walls. Below it was a river equipped with a bridge that allowed people to reach the palace. It did not seem to be very far away and could be reached in perhaps a few hours.  

"Come on. A little effort," said Rolandus, helping Marfisa onto her horse.  

Indeed, it did not take long to reach the bridge, and when they arrived, they were greeted above it by an azure-haired maiden.  

"Are you all right?" said the lady waving her arm.  

"My friend is feeling a little sick. She needs a place to rest for a day!" said Rolandus. 

"Come on in," said the lady, "...we have other guests at the palace anyway. A couple more will just be company.  

"Thank you." 

They took Phazanius to the stables and once through the garden they could admire the beauty of the place. Even Marfisa, who was not in her best condition, could appreciate its beauty and beautiful work, being amazed every time she faintly turned her gaze around.  

Above the fine amber columns, whose black marble extremities were decorated with leaves and flowers in pure gold, was a wide loggia. The floor was divided of white and green marble, while the ceiling was painted of a gold and blue sky.  

In front of the loggia was a delicate garden, overshadowed by green palms and cedars under which small shrubs grazed. Beneath this lovely flock of green sheep, verdant was a long lawn painted with a sea of flowers.  

There were drops of daisies and splashes of violets, waves of bluebells and rocks of roses. There was a roar of fragrance and a saltiness of peel and resin. A sweet smell a which swarms of bees wallowed, as numerous as crowds of industrious sailors or playful children seeking shelter from the summer heat.  

It looked like all surrounded by an eternal marble spring. Each plant each flower contributed to that unexpected beauty, but unexpected more than anything else were the animals: deer, boars, wolves and lions...all strolled through the garden, peaceful as in the golden age that poets so loved to declaim. 

What, however, was claiming to be the king of that garden, was an eerie silvery tree with red and orange leaves that seemed stuck in an eternal fall. From its branches weird pink fruits were growing, that nor Marfisa nor Rolandus could recognize.  

Marfisa looked away tired and with her eyes struggling to focus, but Rolandus continued to admire the lodge. It had all three of its faces painted so masterfully that nature itself could not have seemed more real.  

As he stood thus intent on turning left and right head and body and observing everything observable, Rolandus noticed that there was a story told on those walls. A story of ladies and heroes whose names were engraved in gold on the stone for all to read and contemplate. 

There was a young woman painted by the sea with a face so sharp and colourful that it almost looked like a living creature. The art that had painted her was sublime to such an extent that just by looking at it one could hear her speak. The image was so real that Rolandus was afraid that just by touching the painting he might fall into it.  

The figure seemed as if to move, inviting people to its shore; people who then saw themselves transformed into animals, robbed of their human form: some wolves, some lions and some wild boars; some bears, some griffins with broad wings. 

The story continued until the arrival of a ship from which emerged a young catizus, with a handsome face and a suave voice. Marfisa would have been inflamed with love for that young man made of brushstrokes and paint, as was also the lady on the wall. She seemed to give him the key to her mansion, the books in them and her treasures.  

Those two young people seemed to be well together and to be in love, spending time frolicking among the deer in the forest. The man made a request of her, and promptly she set about reading tomes and tinkering with potions, until she poured the fruit of her labours into two cups.  

Full of joy she offered the two cups to his beloved, with a potion made from the eerie tree growing in the garden. It was here that the story told began to take an unexpected turn. Rolandus took a few steps forward and continued to watch.  

Perhaps out of deception, perhaps out of love, the lady took a sip from the first cup and with an expression of fear and confusion she turned into a white spotted-haired doe. Perhaps not even time to let her comprehend what had happened, that the catizus threw the second potion at her in loud laughter.  

The doe fled, pursued by a herd of deer that, fiery as young stallions and excited by the potion dripping from her fur, forced her to flee to avoid being caught. And while thus the lady-turned-doe fled: every treasure of hers, from gold to silver to precious gems to fey objects, vanished. There was no weapon or coin, sceptre or wand, plate or candlestick that was not plundered. Only books remained, hurled and trampled, ousted from the split bookshelves to better access the treasury hidden behind it.  

Thus ended the tale, told in colours so vivid and bright that in the middle of the night they would light up the garden. Rolandus felt a twinge of sadness reading that story, but eventually had to return to the present, more worried than ever about Marfisa.  

"Come now, don't exaggerate..." said Marfisa, a little tired from her illness, but still appreciating Rolandus’ courtesy, "...I've already told you; I'm not going to die. It goes that it takes for that. I just need...some rest." 

Rolandus looked at the azure-haired lady. 

"Please, please. Have a seat," said the lady. "If you need a bed, there is no reason to wait. Take the first free room." 

Marfisa was escorted inside the palace where, however, at the end of the corridor she was made to stop.  

"There is, however, one small thing I must ask you. A small tradition of this palace that you must do," said the lady.  

"Please. Go ahead," replied a weak Marfisa.  

"Ah, nothing much. It's just a matter of tasting the house wine. One small sip and you can go to bed and sleep."  

"Nothing but a small sip... with this headache I'll drink a whole jug."  

The lady giggled and filled a crystal goblet with the wine from a carafe resting on a small table nearby.  

Marfisa greedily drank the whole glass, while the lady poured wine from a second carafe into another goblet, which she handed to Rolandus.  

"For me?" said Rolandus surprised.  

"Come on, don't tell me that at your age you haven't drunk yet," said the lady. 

Rolandus resented being treated like a child. He took the goblet and drank it all in one gulp, without wondering too much why the lady used separate carafes for males and females.  

He enjoyed the sweet taste of that drink, when he realized that something was wrong. Marfisa's gaze was confused, bewildered and she looked at the blue-haired lady with the same look she had when she was thinking of Madalgarius. 

On him however the drink had a different effect, for when he opened his mouth the strangled cry of a small lion came out. 

It wasn't long before Rolandus was no longer able to stand and found is head surrounded by the golden mane of a lion. 

His claws clattered on the marble floor, and it didn't help him tug at Marfisa's leg. In short, Rolandus no longer remembered who he was, while Marfisa forgot why she was travelling. By now the only thing Marfisa wanted to ask was: "What's your name? O my beautiful nymph" to which the nymph replied with a single word: "Dragontina." 

I think at this point we can leave Marfisa and Rolandus, as they won't move from that building for quite some time. Let's go back to Medulfa for a moment because I haven't talked about her for quite a while and unlike Marfisa she's headed in a completely different direction. 

When she learned that Madalgarius had gone to the land of the Catizi to investigate the three golden apples, Marfisa had immediately thought of the island of Peuce and nearby Halmyis, since it was where the closest of the seven original tribes of the catizi lived. Medulfa, on the other hand, had turned her thoughts elsewhere: she went to the port of Ostia, where she embarked on the first ship bound for Alexandria in Egypt. 

Here was a community of catizi originating from three tribes: one that was originally from the Nile delta, one from migrants of Nubia who migrated there since the time of the pharaohs and another from the Meander River who had moved there following the military expeditions of Alexander the great. 

Even Medulfa vaunted of descending from the Greek families who had conquered Egypt, if someone asked and was willing to believe her. In truth, her origins were more prosaic: her mother was of Thracian origin and had gone down south, earning live entertaining men. Her father... she never knew who he was.  

Some say it was Ganeleon father but... I am not sure it is something to brag about. I mean, they are an important family, but, you know, they are the ones from Magantiacum. Do you really want your name to be associated with them? 

Medulfa had spent a good part of her life in Alexandria in Egypt and had earned a living like her mother by dancing, entertaining and… other things. Over time she had gotten to know the city's alleys. 

Thus, you shouldn't be surprised if Medulfa had thought that Madalgarius, by catizi, meant those of Egypt rather than those of Peuce. They had a little less of a reputation for possessing strange knowledge and a little more of a reputation for being an ancient and influential people. 

Be sincere, when you too heard of the lands of the catizi, you thought of Egypt too, maybe Nubia or the sources of the Nile; perhaps even to those of Thule, or those of the sources of the Ganges, but not to the ones of Peuce. Surely not to those of the Meander River, because I too sometimes forget their existence. 

But there was also another reason why the catizi of Egypt had remained deeper in Medulfa's mind, as well as for the long contact in childhood and their fame that spread beyond the sea. 

Catizi, these little creatures who look like children but who have the wisdom that many adults lack, it is precisely in Alexandria that they show their charm the most (I don't want to take anything away from the catizi of other cities, but...). 

Knowledge-loving city, Alexandria collected for centuries works and thinkers. Most of all it attracted the catizi, who for physical labour certainly could not compete with other sentient species, but who thanks to their subtleties of mind could become excellent artists, mathematicians and lawyers. 

Imagine a little Medulfa looking out of her window and seeing these little creatures, who seemed to be the same age as her, but were already discussing science like adults. Try to guess who inspired her to study medicine. Therefore, you can see why Medulfa thought Madalgarius had gone to Alexandria. 

But though their fame was brighter than the catizi of Peuce, even those of Alexandria had their share of legends. Legens that gives them that touch that allowed me to tell good stories about them. Stories that told at night make us not want to stay hearing more, but stories that keep us attached with open ears. 

Little is known about the original tribe that lived in the Nile delta at the time of the early pharaohs, but it was said that their skill with alchemy was unmatched and that in times, when the art of mummification was still in its infancy among men, these catizi knew how to scoff at death. 

However, it was with the pharaoh Nefren-ka that other catizi arrived from the deep south: dark-skinned beings who knew how to dance for the spirits and who brought news of places as magnificent as they were terrifying. News from the valley of Pal-ul-don, the empire of Opar and the great city of Sarnath before doom came to them. 

More reassuring must have seemed the catizi of the Meander River, which had followed King Alexander III of Macedonia in his conquest of the Persian empire. These little beings, it is said, could transform themselves into wolves, acting as scouts for the Macedonian phalanxes.  

They were the only ones who dared to explore the unnamed city hidden in the deserts of Arabia and to return alive to tell what they had seen, although unfortunately Alexander III was already dead when they returned to report. They settled in Alexandria with their cult similar to the Lupercalia of Rome. 

As you can see, there is no shortage of material for terrifying legends. Yet this doesn't seem to touch much the inhabitants of Alexandria... except Medulfa of course. 

In fact, the catizi, who had lived in Alexandria for century, must have seemed very mundane in a city that had seen ancient Egyptian cults, foreign ones from Greece and the new ones like Serapis; not to mention the strange Jews and Christians. 

It was necessary to wait for Theophilus of Alexandria, nine hundred and twenty-two years after the foundation of Rome, for the catizi to be expelled from Alexandria, together with the Jews and other pagans. 

They took refuge in the city of Lycopolis, protected by the swamps of the delta and by the Queen of Cats and Werewolves, only to return to Alexandria in Egypt under the emperor Volusius Ulpius Vopiscus. 

You can imagine how Medulfa felt sympathy for the emperor Volusius, who had allowed her to meet the catizi as a child. As Medulfa moved to Rome, she immediately made friends with his daughter Marfisa... at least until that little incident caused by Madalgarius. Ah, males! Always ruining other people's friendships with their love triangles. Not like us females. 

Medulfa stretched her arms, full of energy and optimism. She would find Madalgarius, show her to Marfisa, and have her happy ending. The city was waiting her spectacular as she remembered it, and luck was assisting, as the ship she took would dock at the city's third port, the one near the Serapeum. 

His library had not fully recovered after its destruction by Theophilus, or more correctly, it would still take time for it to regain its lustre. Emperor Theodosius had entrusted it to Theophilus to destroy it. Emperor Volusius had entrusted it to the catizi to rebuild it and there was a lot of job to do. And a lot to do also Medulfa had. 

In a city of numerous magnificent attractions, the Serapeum was its most beautiful temple. Located southwest of the city, on a small hill known as the acropolis, the sanctuary was constructed during the reign of Ptolemy III, upon foundations which had existed since the reign of Ptolemy I Soter. It is said that its hill was created to bury something old and unmentionable that dated back to the time of Pharaoh Nefren-ka. 

Visitors of the Serapeum climbed a hundred steps to reach its courtyard. Libraries were installed in the porticos surrounding the square building, with its roof and columns adorned with gold and gilded bronze. Pharaohs were generous to the temple as were several roman emperors after Egypt's conquest. An inner temple housed the statue of Serapis, dedicated to healing the sick. 

Since the XXVI dynasty, Greeks in Egypt had gradually integrated the Egyptian cult of the Apis bull to their own rituals with the establishment of the Ptolemaic dynasty the cult of Apis was further integrated into Greek religion. 

During his role, Ptolemy I chose to merge Egyptian and Hellenic gods into a syncretic divinity named Serapis. With this new deity, the Ptolemaic dynasty managed to accommodate similar belief sets for two different cultures bringing about a new dynastic cult. 

Serapis became associated to other deities, including Asclepius, the Greek god of healing, or as Medulfa knew him more: the roman Aesculapius. The sick would visit this sanctuary, sleeping there overnight in the hopes of being healed within its hallowed halls. It was here that Medulfa started her studies of medicine and she never expected to return there after she moved to Rome. 

There were also other things she would not have expected. Things strange and no less mysterious than those in the land of Peuce, but for now we'd better wait. I think I have said enough about the mysteries of Alexandria, and I want you well rested. I already gave you many names, places and mysteries and for the next chapter I need you well focused and concentrated.