Unburning Alexandria by Paul Levinson

hinge. A picture flickered within – in three dimensions. He jerked his head back, involuntarily. But the locket did not frighten him. It captivated him. Another of Heron's inventions, no doubt. . . .
    In the picture, an older man was pulling a younger man away from a woman, the same age as the younger man. None looked familiar to Synesius. The young man and woman were very fair – likely of far Northern origin. The older man was balding.
    Synesius could not even be sure this was Hypatia's, but he felt that it was, and, more, was of great value to her. Her leaving it here, then, bode no good. Either she had left in a fearful hurry, or had been taken against her will. This strange picture in his hand was slim evidence, he knew, but–
    He heard footsteps in the hall.
    "Synesius!" It was Josephus. "I am glad that I found you."
    "What is it?"
    "A ship arrived last hour from Carthage," Josephus replied.
    "Odd time for a ship to arrive."
    "I know," Josephus replied. "But it carried important information for you– "
    "Yes?"
    "Marcellinus – and his brother, Apringius – have been taken prisoner."
    "By who, the Donatists?" Synesius knew better than to say the Nitrians – they took no prisoners. "Are they insane? Now General Maricus has just the reason he needs to destroy them!"
    Josephus's mouth worked before he replied. "Maricus is the one who took them prisoner – and at the Donatists's behest, no doubt. The General was growing angrier by the hour at the brutal tactics of Marcellinus and Apringius."
    Synesius was silent.
    "Augustine is pleading for their lives," Josephus said.
    Synesius nodded slowly. "We must return to Carthage, immediately – alert the gubernator of the ship that brought this report. Tell him he will be very well paid. . . . Go!"
    Josephus left. Synesius considered. No, he could not stay in Alexandria any longer. Which meant he was less likely to see Hypatia again. Maybe he would never see her again. Maybe he would never know for sure if she lived or had died. . . .
    Synesius opened his hand. It had clenched closed the moment Josephus had arrived. Synesius was not a thief. But he knew he could not leave this place without the heart-soul of Hypatia that he held in his hand.
    [Alexandria, 150 AD]
    Sierra walked swiftly through the Library. It had been a day. She had timed her arrival here to miss Heron as well as her younger self and Jonah. Not that it likely would have mattered if she had run into herself as Ampharete, and Jonah as Heron's apprentice. Neither would have recognized her passing on the street.
    Certainly Sierra had had no idea what Hypatia looked like, when Sierra had been here as Ampharete back then. Neither would Jonah at that point, Sierra was pretty sure. No one back here had ever seen Hypatia. Except, possibly, Heron.
    But he had left before Ampharete and Jonah – he was already gone, Jonah had told her, when she had awoken that morning. She remembered every instant of that strange day. She'd been sound asleep, dreaming that someone was looking at her, enjoying looking at her . . . . And when she awoke, Jonah was indeed in the next room, in Heron's quarters right here in Library, and Heron was gone. And she and Jonah had boarded the Lux. . . .
    She quickened her pace. She glanced at her wrist for her watch. She'd left it in the future, of course. But even her brief sojourn in the future had brought back a flood of reflexes she had carefully diverted during her time in the past. . . . So she had no precise knowledge of the time of day, but–
    Good, there was the Nubian. She had acquired him earlier. He approached from the shadows. She knew he had a knife under his garb. It wasn't to hurt her. It was to protect her. She nodded at him and smiled slightly. They turned a corner.
    Claudius Ptolemy was mumbling into his scrolls, moving his head up and down. He reminded Sierra of a pigeon in a playground. Ptolemy barely noticed her and the Nubian as they swept past him.
    Heron's quarters were