After another dip of his pen into the bottle of black ink, Malchus drew an uneven line of dashes across the papyrus sheet. It would be the last of several he had already drawn on it, all of them winding between the range of hills and mountains he had indicated with triangular strokes. Once he had finished the last dash, he stood up from his chair and marveled at the work of art he had completed.

Above him, the ceiling rafters creaked, with the thatch layered on them shuffling and crackling. He poke...