"Even Wah noticed him," Kysen said with a grimace of distaste. "After hinting that your brother and Bentanta were guilty, that is. He said he saw Sennefer after Hepu finished speaking."
"Which doesn't help verify Bentanta's tale."
Sighing, Kysen propped his forearms on the railing and gazed out at the deep blue water. "I know, especially since Wah offered a convincing detail. He said he was able to spot Sennefer because he had a fresh unguent cone on, and it was lopsided."
"Then I don't see how-" Meren turned to look at his son. "An unmelted scent cone?"
"Yes."
"But not much earlier, the one he had on was already melting."
They looked at each other.
"Between the time Bentanta and Anhai quarreled and when Hepu finished his interminable Instruction, he used two scent cones." Meren turned back to gaze across the river at the desert.
"Why would he do that?" Kysen asked on a note of suspicion.
"He may have lost the first one."
Kysen said, "In a struggle."
"Perhaps. I must think about this, Ky." Meren closed his eyes. "But it's as I said. If Sennefer killed Anhai, then who killed Sennefer, and why?" Meren opened his eyes reluctantly to face his son. "And since we've been so astute in confirming what Bentanta has told us, we've just increased the likelihood that my brother is a murderer. Ra is the only one I've been able to link to Sennefer's death except Bentanta."
"Even if she's told us the truth about Anhai's death, she still might have had a reason to kill Sennefer. One we don't know about. And anyway, from what you've told me, I wouldn't put it past Hepu to kill Sennefer rather than allow anyone to find out his son was a murderer."
Meren straightened and eyed his son. "By the gods, Ky, you've grown as suspicious as I am."
"I'm only using the reason Nebamun says is one of the properties of the heart. Hepu is bloated with pride in his virtue. His heart is unbalanced near to madness with it. I can imagine he would fear for his sacred reputation enough to get rid of a son who was both impotent and a murderer. You have said he is violent."
"But if he thought Sennefer killed Anhai," Meren said, "Ra could have murdered him out of revenge. You forget that I had Sennefer confined immediately after finding
Anhai's body. Ra would know that such an action meant I suspected him."
"I only meant that Ra isn't the only one who had a reason to kill Sennefer."
Meren smiled bitterly. "And there's still Bentanta. She feared the discovery of her adultery. Who knows what her husband's family would have done had they found out? She was right. An adulterous woman can lose everything, including her life."
"What are you going to do?" Kysen asked.
Turning to gaze downriver in the direction of Memphis, Meren breathed in deeply and exhaled. "I'm going to set a trap, Ky, a trap for my own brother. Come with me. We'll stop by my chambers and then go to the garden."
It wasn't long before they were ensconced on couches in the shade of a stand of palms. Two slaves waved tall fans over them while a servant appeared with a tray full of fruit dishes. This was set on a low table between Meren and Kysen. Meren picked up a copper bowl that had been set beside his couch and put it on the tray. As he did so, Ra came toward them accompanied by Reia.
"You sent for this lowly prisoner, O master of all?" Ra said with a sneer.
Meren waved Reia aside. "Curb your tongue. I sent for you in order to beg your forgiveness."
"You never begged for anything in your life," Ra snapped.
"I was wrong to begin that fight, Ra. I ask your forgiveness."
"Are you ill?" Ra asked. "Or is this some kind of trick?"
"No. I've just discovered that Sennefer killed Anhai."
"Ha! I knew he did it." Ra planted his fists on his hips and gloated. "For once the mighty Eyes of Pharaoh has made a fool of himself."
"I knew you'd be happy."
Ra laughed, went to the table, and poured himself a cup of wine. "I feel like celebrating."
Meren grinned at him. "I am truly sorry, brother." He picked up the bronze dish. It was filled with shiny black berries the size of grapes. "Here. Have some fresh berries."
Ra was gulping down his wine. He tilted the cup and finished the last of the brew, wiped his lips on the back of his hand, and glanced at the berries.
"I have no appetite."
"You will if you taste these."
"They're good? Give them here."
Ra snatched the dish from Meren's hand, grabbed a handful, and stuffed them in his mouth. Meren and Kysen jumped up at the same time.
"No!" Meren cried. He pounded him on the back as Kysen slapped the dish from Ra's hand. Ra gasped and spewed out berries and curses. Meren thrust a water flagon to his lips. "Did you swallow any of them? Good. Rinse your mouth and spit."
Ra complied and then turned on Meren. "What in the name of Amun are you doing?" He looked at the scattered berries and swore. "Those are poison. You tried to poison me!"
"You know what they are, then," Meren said.
"From the way you're acting, they must be poison. That's twice you've tried to kill me."
Meren rolled his eyes. "Do you know what kind of berries they are?"
"Poison berries."
"Ra, you're going to drive me mad," Meren said through clenched teeth.
"They're the same kind we found in Sheftu's house," Kysen said as he picked up berries and put them back in the bronze dish.
Understanding dawned on Ra's face. "You've been spying on me, Meren."
"I found the same poison used on Sennefer there."
Meren said. "And I wanted to know if you knew what it was."
"I do now."
"I thought that if you ate them, I would prove your innocence."
"By killing me?"
"I didn't let you eat them. Unfortunately, you seem to have managed to cast suspicion on yourself anyway."
"What! You nearly poison me and still accuse me of murder?"
"You said the berries were poison."
"Because of your reaction, O clever one."
"I'm trying to be fair. I'm trying to prove you innocent."
Ra threw out his arms. "Don't. Don't try to help me. The next time you do, I might end up dead."
"I have to do something, brother, because all you do is dig a deeper hole for yourself. You didn't tell me about Tabes and Aset, and you especially didn't tell me about Sheftu, her grandmother, or their preparations and potions."
"Everyone knows about Green Palm and its tavern, and anyone who has an ailment goes to Sheftu's grandmother."
Meren sat down on the couch and said quietly, "You could have stolen back here from Green Palm with poison from Sheftu's house and put it in Sennefer's wine jar"
"I was so drunk my friends had to bring me home!" Kysen set the bronze dish on the table. "You could have been feigning illness." Ra walked over to Meren and looked down at him.
"And I suppose that vomit you saw was a pretense."
"I've witnessed stranger things," Meren said wearily.
"You've spent too much time at court," Ra replied. "It has corrupted your reason."
Lifting his gaze to Ra, Meren said, "Perhaps my reason has only been sharpened. I learned long ago how to dissemble and conceal my true ka behind a guise as blank as a death mask. We share the same blood, Ra. If I'm capable of such deceit, I would expect my brother to be as good at it as I am."
"Then you have a problem," Ra said. He bent over Meren and whispered in his ear. "By that kind of reasoning you could ask yourself another question. Are you capable of murder?"
Meren felt an inner jolt as Akhenaten's death flashed through his thoughts.
Ra gave him a taunting smile, stood erect, and walked away. "The answer to that question should tell you if I'm guilty. Don't you agree?"
Chapter 17
Standing in the haunted temple in the midst of shrouded coffins and canopic chests, Kysen listened once again to Nento's complaints. He'd arrived several hours aft
er sunset but wished he hadn't been forced to leave Meren, who was still reeling from the day's discoveries. But someone had to attend to the sacred guardianship; Nento hadn't proved to be much good at it. He could barely make the required sacrifices and recite a proper spell.
"And then last night I was certain I heard footsteps," the man was saying. "Your aide said I was imagining it, but I insisted he send the men out to search the rocks and the valley slopes. I'm sure the demons who inhabit this place are angry at us for invading their refuge."
"But the guards didn't find anyone."
Nento bobbed his ostrich-egg head. "If it was a demon, they wouldn't." He tugged on his oiled mustache. "I tell you, we should light fires to frighten evil spirits away."
"We've discussed this dozens of times. Campfires would be seen. Everyone has amulets for protection, and you're qualified to do the appropriate rituals of warding."
Waddling closer, Nento crowded Kysen with his melon-shaped bulk. "Torches, then. Small ones, like when pharaoh-may he have life, health, and prosperity-came to us."
"No, Nento. That was a matter of extremity. We're not going to do it again. If you don't like it inside the temple, join the men."
"Listen! You can't tell me that's just the breeze."
The evil west wind whipped through the valley. Kysen listened over Nento's labored breathing to the hollow wail of a trumpet signaling the approach of some unseen, ghostly army. Nento darted glances around the temple. The back wall was cracked, allowing the wind to whip around the interior and toss the draperies over Akhenaten's coffin. Nento's head jerked in that direction, and he gasped as the coffin appeared to disturb the cloth that covered it. His agitation was beginning to make Kysen uneasy.
"I'm going outside," he said.
Nento was on his heels. "I'm coming with you."
The wind blew grit in their faces as they emerged from the temple. Kysen paused as a particularly fierce gust brought with it a long, hollow groan that soared through the valley. Everyone knew that lost souls roamed the deserts-those whose descendants had ceased to provide nourishment in their eternal houses. They fed on hapless ones foolish enough to venture near their abandoned tombs. What if there were such eternal houses buried beneath the temple?
Excellent, Kysen thought. You're going to end up like Nento if you don't take care. Have patience. The new tombs will be ready soon, so you won't have to endure the temple or Nento much longer.
He surveyed the valley in the silver glow cast by the moon, then went over to a spray of boulders at the base of the north slope of the valley. Nento trotted after him. Iry was sitting between two of the largest rocks scanning the top of the incline.
"All seems quiet as usual, lord," said Iry.
"Good. If things continue this way, I'll return to the house. I'm not sure what Lord Meren will do now that-"
He paused as the screech of a falcon echoed down from the slope before them.
The figure of a charioteer shot up from behind the ridge and pointed toward a rock at the top of the slope shaped vaguely like a reclining bull. Then the man sprinted for the rock. As he ran, another figure catapulted from hiding behind the bull rock, ran a few steps, and plummeted down the opposite side of the slope. Kysen let out another falcon call and sprang up the slope with fry. At the same time Nento yelped, spun around, and ran away, legs churning beneath his melon belly.
Kysen had no time to worry about Nento. He scrambled up the side of the valley, feet slipping on loose gravel and stone. Half the guards in the valley, along with Iry, climbed with him, while the other half remained on alert at the temple. Kysen reached the summit, stopped to find his bearings, and saw the charioteer who had signaled sliding to the base of the incline. Then he set off after a man who was but a darker spot in a nearly black landscape.
They were headed east, toward the river. If the invader reached a boat, he might escape. Kysen plunged down the slope along with his men. Once at the base, he set out at a run, heedless of sharp rocks and sudden dips in the ground. Whoever the spy was, he was fast. Kysen's chest heaved, and pain accompanied every breath as he sprinted across the desert toward the fields that bordered the Nile.
Kysen and Iry ran side by side. Behind him a guard stumbled and fell with a cry. Neither Kysen nor Iry looked back. They reached the dormant, baked fields. The ground suddenly flattened and became softer. Kysen realized he'd run onto a bank of one of the small canals that brought water to outlying fields. He had to watch his footing now, or he'd fall into a channel.
His progress slowed; he watched the lead charioteer cross the fields at an angle that told him their quarry had turned south. He put on a burst of speed, springing across a narrow canal, and headed for the riverbank. Soon he was at the water's edge, scrambling around palms, stumbling into water where the bank had collapsed, shoving his way through reeds with Iry still a step behind him. Abruptly he heard a cry, then burst through a stand of reeds to come upon the charioteer they'd been following. He was lying against the stump of an old palm, holding his leg.
Running up to him, Kysen asked breathlessly, "Which way?"
The man pointed back to the west. "He suddenly turned back, lord."
Swearing, Kysen ran out into the fields again and stopped. Iry came running up to him, followed by the rest of the men.
Kysen was scanning the fields to the west. "He doubled back. Three of you go north. The rest of you follow me." He set off at an angle to the river that brought him to the bank just ahead of the injured charioteer. As he reached the bank he heard a cry, then a terrified scream and a watery thrashing. There was a great splash, and more screams as Kysen bolted toward the noise.
The screams stopped as suddenly as they had risen. Beside him Iry cried out and pointed. Not far ahead, in a fan of moonlit water, a long, dully gleaming body rolled in the water. A crocodile. And it had something in its jaws.
As Kysen reached the bank, the creature twisted and rolled again, over and over and over. A portion of its prize tore away, and the crocodile tossed a dark shape, caught it in the back of its jaws, and gulped. Kysen looked out into the river and vaguely discerned arrow-shaped patterns in the water that signaled the approach of more predators.
He, Iry, and their men waded into the water, slashing with their scimitars. One man plied a whip. The lash wrapped around a dark bulk. The crocodile slithered toward them. Kysen gave a cry and helped the man pull on the whip while they sprang for shore. Iry sliced at the water in front of the animal's jaws. It uttered a grunting bark, snapped at the blade, and then back-pedaled. Twisting its body, the creature sank beneath the surface and disappeared.
Chest heaving, sweating and bruised, Kysen helped the charioteer pull the dark mass onto the bank. Men crowded around them, then separated, making the sign against evil. Kysen stood up and looked down at the mangled body of a man. An arm had been torn off at the shoulder. Large puncture wounds dotted the chest, neck, and head.
Kysen was glad it was dark and wished the moon wasn't so bright; it highlighted bloody, wet chunks of flesh. They'd reached the crocodile before it had had time to drag the remains of its booty underwater. Any longer, and more predators would have arrived to tear the body to pieces. Still, Kysen didn't count himself lucky, for he'd wanted the spy alive and able to answer questions.
One of the charioteers was trying to light a handful of field stubble. Kysen studied the dead man, swore softly, and exchanged rueful glances with Iry. Then he heard snuffling. To a man they all spun around to behold Nento creeping toward them through the tall water plants, bawling at the same time.
"Help, help, help, help! Help?"
Kysen sighed, stooped down, and hauled Nento up by one arm. "Shut up."
"He just appeared, out of nothing." Nento held his head in both hands and moaned. "We knocked heads, and he fell off the bank into the shallows."
"This is your fault?" Kysen asked. He jerked on Nento's arm. "Did he say anything?"
"I've cracked my skull. Can't you see I'm bleeding? I nee
d help. Get me a healer. Get me a physician. I'm dying."
Knocking Nento's hands from his face, Kysen growled, "Stop babbling or I'll throw you to that crocodile. Now tell me, did that spy say anything to you?"
"I can't remember. Ohhh, I'm bleeding." Kysen drew back his arm as if to backhand him, and Nento rushed on. "Say anything? Let me think, let me think. No. We cracked heads, he stumbled backward and fell into the water. There was no time."
"Curse it."
Kysen turned back to the charioteers around the body. Suddenly the dry stubble flared, and a guard held it close to the dead man's face.
"Lord," Iry said. "This is one of the men from Lord Paser's yacht."
"Paser? You're certain?"
"Aye, lord. I remember him because he was always on lookout at the bow, and one of his eyebrows was higher than the other." Iry glanced at the disfigured face. "Of course, you can't see it now."
Kysen climbed back up the bank to stand on the edge of a field. Iry followed and joined him in looking up- and downriver.
"You haven't seen Paser, have you?" Kysen asked.
"No, lord, not since we reached Baht."
Peering in the direction of the house, Kysen said, "If he's returned and found out about the haunted temple, we're in a bit of trouble."
"No one has seen his yacht, lord."
"He might have suddenly acquired a clever heart and left the yacht behind," Kysen said. "But at his cleverest, Paser is barely intelligent. He'll be lurking somewhere close, but not close enough for us to see him."
His gaze met Iry's, and they said together, "Green Palm."
"You take the men there at once," Kysen said. "I'm going to the ship. We may need it if Paser has already missed his spy and decided to run."
Having been awakened by the messenger from Kysen, Meren hurried out of the front gate of his villa. He'd just sent most of the men on duty at the house to the temple on the chance that there had been more than the one spy lurking around the valley. His features grim, he headed for the dock.
"Meren, Meren you wait right there!"
Grimacing, he turned around as his sister flew toward him. "Not now, Idut." He headed for the dock again, but Idut was at his side, matching her steps with his and chastising as they went.
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