by Lauren Haney
"The last I saw of Djehuty, he'd been poisoned. A physician was with him, trying to save him."
"So the slayer struck again! Made a victim of the goverror himself!" Thuty struck a column with his fist. "I feared we'd get here too late."
"Governor Djehuty lives." Lieutenant Amonhotep stood at the door by the dais. His face was wan and drawn, with dark circles beneath red-rimmed eyes, emphasizing his exhaustion and the strain he had suffered. "He's asleep now, resting. The physician thinks he'll recover."
Bak offered a silent prayer of gratitude to the lord Amon. If nothing else, he had accomplished his goal.
"What of Khawet, Bak?" The aide, who must have learned the truth from Amethu or Simut, hesitated, then his voice dropped to a near whisper. "He was asking for her."
Bak laid a hand on the young man's shoulder and urged him to sit on the edge of the dais. He dropped down beside him, lowered his face into his hands, and rubbed his forehead. He felt as worn out as Amonhotep looked, as weighted down by circumstances. Aware the telling would get no easier with the passage of time, he looked up at Thuty and Imsiba. "You'd best sit, both of you. I've a tale to tell."
The sun had vanished behind the western hills, leaving the sky bright with afterglow. Bak, finished with his recital, sat on a stool outside the rear door of Nebmose's villa, where the light was better than indoors. The physician, a stern man in his late thirties, who wore a linen headcloth to cover his baldness, occupied a second stool, facing the reopened cut on Bak's side. A jar of oil, a bowl containing a greenish salve that smelled strongly of fleabane, and a roll of linen lay within arm's reach, sharing the bench with Commandant Thuty and Imsiba.
"Now tell me how you happen to be here," Bak said. Thuty, disgruntled at learning how tardy his arrival had been, gave a cynical snort. "The day after you left, Inebny sailed into Buhen. He'd been summoned to Waset to report to our sovereign, Maatkare Hatshepsut, on trade and tribute passing north through Wawat. As I'm responsible for all traffic through the Belly of Stones, he wanted my thoughts before he left. When we finished with that, we discussed your mission. I told him what Lieutenant Amonhotep had said, and Nebwa repeated all Nofery had recalled about the governor as a youth."
"She didn't say much." Bak wove his fingers together on top of his head, keeping his arms high so the physician could place a fresh poultice on his side. "Only that he was headstrong and foolish, as are many youths born into noble families."
The physician tut-tutted. Whether he disapproved of so irreverent an attitude toward the nobility or Bak's failure to sit still was impossible to know.
"Troubled by what we told him, he asked to see Nofery. We summoned her, and they talked. One recollection led to another, and together they remembered Djehuty losing a company of men in a desert tempest."
"Nofery said nothing to me of the storm." Bak scowled. "If she had, my task would've been easier."
Imsiba hastened to her defense. "She'd heard the tale, as you yourself had, but, like you, was never told the name of the man responsible."
"I didn't like anything they had to say about Djehuty. He sounded a first-class swine." Thuty glared at the physician, daring him to register an objection. "Inebny agreed. As he had to go to Waset anyway, I thought to sail as far as Abu with him-and bring Imsiba along." His voice turned wry. "I thought you might need the weight of my authority."
"Where's Lieutenant Amonhotep?" Thuty asked, glancing into the governor's private reception room.
"The physician ordered him to sleep." Bak walked on down the poorly lit hall toward Djehuty's bedchamber. "I suspect he gave him a potion, thinking only a drug could keep him away4rom`what he considers his duty."
The viceroy Inebny, a slender man of medium height with a prominent nose and large ears, smiled. "The aide sounds a man conscientious to a fault."
Ineni burst through the door ahead. Looking neither right or left, he strode swiftly past, giving no indication he saw them. He reached the stairs and raced down, vanishing from sight. Bak could not imagine what Djehuty had said to his adopted son, but whatever it was, it had to have been unpleasant.
Leading the way through the door, mouth tight, chin jutting, Bak was prepared for anything-or so he believed. The bedchamber seemed a different place since last he had seen it. The soiled bedding had been taken away and replaced with a fresh sleeping pallet and sheets that smelled of sunlight and fresh air. The wilting lilies were gone, along with their heavy, sweet scent. In their place, a bowl of dried flowers gave off a more subtle and pleasing odor. The morning light was soft and delicate, filtered through thin linen hangings a servant had placed over the high windows.
"Khawet, my Khawet." Djehuty's voice was feeble, querulous. "Such a nice, agreeable child. Where is she?"
The viceroy exchanged a glance with Thuty and stepped forward. After hearing Bak's tale, he had decided that he should face the governor, presenting the news of Khawet's death and the accusation of murder.
The physician reached out a hand to halt his approach and shook his head, signaling for silence.
"Where has she gone?" Djehuty, his shoulders propped high on spotless white pillows, patted the sleeping pallet next to his thigh. "I want her here beside me."
Bak stared at the governor, startled by the change in him. He had been thin before but now was skeletal, and his pallor had a grayish cast. His eyes, black and glittering, looked as if they had sunk into his skull. He had aged twenty years. No wonder Ineni had rushed from the room, giving no word of greeting. Whether or not he loved his father, the shock must have been great.
"Where is she?" Djehuty peered around the room. His eyes seemed unable to stay in one place for long, as if he had trouble focusing. "Why is she always somewhere else when I need her at my side?"
Tut-tutting in place of words, the physician took the governor's hand in his and patted the long, bony fingers. Djehuty jerked his hand away and glared at the man, like a child offended by a touch. "Did she go out to play?" he asked, his eyes darting around, alighting on nothing. "Or did Hatnofer take her to the market? I hope she's holding her hand. Little girls should never wander around alone. It's unseemly."
Inebny sucked in his breath, startled. Thuty muttered a few words Bak could barely hear, possibly a spell to ward off the demon that had invaded the governor's heart.
Recognizing a second, more dire reason for Ineni's distress, Bak moved up behind the physician. "Is he always like this?" he whispered
"What was that?" Djehuty demanded, turning waspish. "What'd you say? Don't whisper in front of me, young man. I don't like it."
"I asked if you're well, sir."
"I'm hungry, that's all. Haven't eaten in…" Djehuty's voice tailed off and he tilted his head to peer at Bak. "Who are you? What are you doing in my bedchamber?"
Bak found himself at a loss for words. How does one respond to a grown man whose thoughts have carried him into another realm? He queried the physician with a glance, got a shrug in return. The man was no help at all.
"Well?" Djehuty snapped. "Who are you? Answer my question, young man, or I'll have my father send you to the desert mines. He's governor of this province, you know."
"I'm a servant, sir, new to your household." The less important he made himself out to be, he hoped, the sooner Djehuty would accept him. Or, better yet, forget him.
"Go away." Djehuty flicked his long fingers, signaling Bak out the door. "Go find Khawet. I need her. Now!" He glanced toward the viceroy and the commandant. "You go with him. Both, of you." His eyes began to wander. "Servants! Bah! Useless creatures, all of them." He looked down at the sheet covering him and frowned. He pulled the crumpled fabric one way and another, stretched it, patted it, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. He seemed unaware of their departure.
"How long has he been like this?" Bak asked.
"I wasn't certain when first he awakened from the poisoninduced sleep." The physician rubbed his eyes, as if wearied by a failure he could in no way have prevented. "I thought I might cure
him. I hoped to, but… Well, as you can see, no potions I could give him, no spells to frighten away the demons, no prayers to the gods would reorder his wits and allow him to think as he should. In the end, I accomplished nothing."
"Will he ever again be right?" Inebny demanded.
The physician hesitated, obviously impressed by so mighty a man and desirous of saying what he wanted to hear. But the truth could not be avoided. His eyes fell away from the viceroy, skipped over the commandant, and landed on Bak, a man more easily spoken to. "I've seen this before. Long ago, when first I began to learn my profession in the house of life at the mansion of the lord Amon in Waset. A man was brought in for us all to see. One who had been thrown into a pit of scorpions by a vile trader from the land of Retenu. As punishment for dishonesty, we were told."
His eyes flitted toward Inebny and Thuty, returned to Bak. "When we saw him, ten or so years after the occurrence, he behaved like Governor Djehuty. A child yet not a child, one who confused the passage of time and his. place in it." He bit his lip. "The poison. The pain. The shock. I don't know. Maybe in the governor's case, the realization of how much his only child hated him."
He looked at the viceroy at last, his gaze level, his admission frank. "Whatever it was, his wits are addled now and likely always to remain so."
"You are your father's son," Inebny said. "His family, and therefore yours, has held the seat of power in this province for many generations."
"Sir." Ineni stood stiff and straight in front of the dais, his eyes on the viceroy. "I've never wished to be governor, nor do I now. I want only to return to the family estate in Nubt. If, that is, you deem I have the right."
Inebny, seated in Djehuty's armchair, glanced at Bak, who was standing nearby with hnsiba and Thuty. Behind them, crowding the audience hall, was a multitude of people from Abu, Swenet, and farms and villages throughout the province. These men and women from all walks of life had heard their governor was ill. Too ill to ever again occupy the seat of authority. They had come to see for themselves this lofty officer from afar, seeking reassurance that chaos would be averted, justice and order would be maintained, and life would go on as before.
During the two days that had passed since Khawet's death and Djehuty's escape from reality, the viceroy and the officers from Buhen had discussed at length all Bak had learned during his search for the slayer. Now Inebny had to decide how best to use the information, how much he should take to heart, in trying to resolve both provincial and personal affairs. Though outside his realm of responsibility, his rank placed him in charge. The decisions he made would most likely be approved by the vizier.
"Djehuty adopted you as his son, and that you remain." Inebny sat at ease, comfortable with his task. "As his sole heir, the estate is yours by right, and so is the governorship. The latter includes, as you well know, the two villas in Abu and the cultivable land at the north end of this island. You're also entitled to a percentage of the provincial taxes and a share of the tolls paid by passing traders."
The viceroy wore a simple white kilt, a short wig with tight curls, a broad collar of gold and carnelian and turquoise beads, with equally elegant bracelets, armlets, anklets, and rings. A large and muscular Kushite servant stood behind him, stirring the air with a magnificent ostrich-feather fan. The onlookers were suitably impressed, Bak felt sure.
Ineni would not be swayed. "I'm a farmer, sir. I have neither the patience nor the knowledge to sit on that dais and make lawful and wise decisions. Why should I be given a task I'd do poorly when I'd much prefer the task I do well?"
Inebny's mouth twitched as he held back a smile. "Your honesty alone recommends you for the position."
"But, sir..:"
The viceroy raised a hand, silencing him. "The province will suffer from your abdication, I've no doubt, — but I wish you a long and happy life on the estate in Nubt, and many children to succeed you."
Ineni stood still and quiet, slow to comprehend. Then relief wiped away the confusion, the surprise, and set his face alight. "Thank you, sir. Thank you!"
Flashing a brilliant smile at Bak, he swung away and strode in among the crowd, whose startled silence grew to a clamor. Men reached out to clap him on the shoulder, women to squeeze his wrist or hand. They voiced disappointment at the defection of a man whose family they had served for many generations, yet at the same time they showed their delight that this man they liked had been allowed the life he preferred. Inebny looked on, his face expressionless, his eyes aglitter with satisfaction.
As the tumult died down, the scribe responsible for the smooth functioning of the proceedings called the next man on the viceroy's list. "Troop Captain Antef!"
The officer, who had been shocked to hear Khawet was the slayer and appalled by her death, had begun to grow accustomed to the idea that she would never again smile upon him. He stood as straight as Ineni had, as much in command as always. Helping him along, Bak suspected, was the thought that Djehuty would no longer order his troops to inappropriate or degrading tasks.
"This province needs a governor, Troop Captain." Inebny studied the man standing before him with interest. "Is it a position you've ever coveted? Or do you, like Ineni, prefer a task more suited to your talents and training?"
If Antef noticed the viceroy's gentle teasing, he gave no hint. "Sir, may I be bold enough to make a suggestion?" Inebny leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Go on, Troop Captain."
"Lieutenant Amonhotep has served as Governor Djehuty's right hand for almost five years. He knows far better than… Forgive me, sir, but I must speak with candor." Antef paused, waited for the viceroy's nod. "He knows the laws of our land better than Djehuty ever did, better than I do, better than anyone in this province. And he has the wisdom to uphold those laws in a true and just manner. He, not 1, should be appointed governor."
The recommendation silenced the onlookers and took Bak's breath away. He, too, had told Inebny he believed the aide would be a superior governor, much better than Djehuty. But to hear the words uttered by a man such as Antef, who far outranked the young lieutenant, was startling. And refreshing.
"He's very young for so demanding a position," Inebny pointed out, as he had to Bak.
"I'd do all I could to smooth his path, as would the chief steward and chief scribe." Both Amethu and Simut, standing to the right of the dais, voiced enthusiastic agreement. "Of equal importance, he has the respect of the people of this province, that I know for a fact."
A murmur swept through the crowd, grew to a din equaling that for Ineni.
Inebny threw Bak a wry smile. "Can we compromise?" Antef was slow to answer, suspicious of the viceroy's intent. "Yes, sir?"
"In addition to your present position as commander of this garrison, Troop Captain Antef, I'm appointing you acting provincial governor." Inebny raised both hands, palms forward, staving off the many objections he saw on the faces before him. "Lieutenant Amonhotep will serve as your aide. if you choose to seat him in this chair while you're otherwise occupied at the garrison, so be it."
All who heard understood. The viceroy believed Amonhotep should se Xe as their governor, and he would take the belief to the vizier in Waset. In the meantime, an older and wiser man must sit on the dais, guiding the younger until the appointment was blessed in the capital. The onlookers cheered outright, not solely for Amonhotep's good fortune and theirs, but for the viceroy as well.
Bak was well satisfied with Inebny's decisions, but he had mixed feelings about the fate the gods had chosen for Khawet and Djehuty. Somehow the punishment seemed not to fit the scale of their crimes. Khawet had slain five people, yet the gods had taken her life in a single, swift moment. Djehuty had slain not only Min and Nebmose, but his nonsensical order to his men to hold their places in the caravan's line of march had led to the death of over one hundred soldiers. Now here he was, returned to childhood, with no greater care than passing the remainder of his days in ease and comfort.
Inebny's warship, its mast and yards stripped, sails
stdwed belowdeck for the long voyage downstream, rocked gently on the swells, bumping the landingplace. Mat-like fenders hung along the hull, preventing the wood from rubbing the stone. Fittings creaked, pennants fluttered in the chill breeze of daybreak. A caged leopard, the viceroy's gift for the queen, snarled at its confinement. The captain stood at the head of the gangplank, counting the oarsmen filing aboard. At the stern, the helmsman knelt to examine lashings that held rudder and tiller in place. The drummer tapped a soft, nonsensical rhythm on his instrument.
The viceroy, standing at the foot of the gangplank, smiled at Bak. "You've done a fine job, Lieutenant. The outcome isn't all rd hoped for, but you can't be held responsible for the whims of man and the gods."
"Thank you, sir."
"You've long been due the gold of honor. I'll see that word reaches the proper ears."
Bak sneaked a wink at Imsiba. He had earned the coveted golden flies three times before for laying hands on men who had upset the balance of justice, offending the lady Maat. He had never been given the reward. For him, more than duty above and beyond the norm would be necessary. He would some day have to appease a sovereign he had inadvertently angered. A woman who quickly forgot, but rarely forgave.
The viceroy raised his baton of office, saluting Commandant Thuty, smiled at Bak and Imsiba, and marched up the gangplank. A sailor pulled the ramp onto the ship, others released the hawsers attached to the mooring posts and leaped aboard. The drummer settled down to serious rhythm, and the oarsmen rowed the vessel away from the landingplace.
Bak looked at Djehuty's traveling ship, tethered to mooring posts driven into the riverbank a short distance downstream, the same vessel on which he had sailed to Abu, loaned to Thuty for the journey upriver.
"May we now go home to Buhen, sir?" he asked. "Why the hurry, Lieutenant?" Thuty eyed the closepacked structures across the river. "I've not set foot in a civilized city for close on a year. Didn't you say the trader Pahared, who once plied the waters of the Belly of Stones, has opened a thriving place of business in Swenet? A house of pleasure?"