The North Wind Descends

by N. L. Holmes

  Abdi-hepa smiled thinly, a smile that left his eyes untouched. He rose and heaved a sigh. “I hope so. We don’t complain—not because we don’t have needs—but because we know it won’t do any good.”

  Hani bowed deeply, and the king of Urusalim drifted off, trailing a mist of gloom. When Hani had closed the door behind Abdi-hepa, he exchanged a look of shared disgust with Maya. “Our commissioner is sounding more and more like the sort of appointee Our Sun God would make. What do you wager that he and Hotep, the commissioner of Ullaza, are at that meeting exchanging ideas on being ineffective?”

  Maya scrambled to his feet and said with ferocity, “I’ll bet anything it’s Amen-nefer’s soldiers who have gone over. And probably he himself, the swine.”

  “But remember what Abdi-hepa said—maybe this is an effort to infiltrate them. We mustn’t rush to judgment.” Hani wanted to believe his own words, but he knew they rang hollow. “What would Amen-nefer’s motive be otherwise? And I can’t help but remember how the very mention of the hapiru made him break out in anger. He certainly didn’t sound like a man who was hobnobbing with them.”

  Maya expelled a breath. “That’s gotten me confused. Maybe he contemns all foreigners.”

  “Hmmm.” Hani didn’t know what to say. While Abdi-hepa’s visit had provided some interesting information, it didn’t really advance his case. “Why would Amen-nefer’s men be involved with the raid on the Babylonians—assuming they were? Was it to herd them into Kumidi? But then what? What earthly motive could he have for killing an emissary? It reflects so badly on his administration that it may even get him recalled.”

  “The emissary was a foreigner,” Maya said with a shrug.

  But Hani found none of their conjectures convincing. He stretched. “Let’s try to find one of the Babylonians who might have known Shulum-marduk. And if there is no one, then our trip here is ended.”

  ⸎

  That afternoon, Hani asked the commanding officer if he knew of anyone who might be able to give him information about the deceased emissary. “You might ask our military scribe,” Esagil-kin-apli said.

  “And where might he be found?” asked Hani pleasantly.

  “I’ll send him to you. I’m not promising he’ll know anything, though.” The officer shooed off a subordinate with the instructions “Find Nabu-ahhe-idin and send him here, soldier.”

  A brief while later, a neatly built little man with a prominent belly that didn’t seem to match the rest of him approached. Hani estimated he was in his early forties, his hair beginning to gray around the temples, but still bouncing and youthful in his movements. A long reed stylus was tucked over the ear through his oiled curls. He glanced briefly at Hani and Maya then looked to the officer, eyes wide-open in curiosity, and slapped himself on the chest in a military salute. “How can I be of service, my lord?”

  “Do you know the diplomat who was just assassinated?”

  The scribe’s face fell. “Shulum-marduk? Yes, my lord. We were good friends since scribal school.”

  “This gentleman is investigating his death and has some questions he’d like to ask you.” The officer nodded to Hani as if to say, “He’s all yours,” and made his way off across the courtyard.

  Hani said in Akkadian, “My name is Hani, and as your superior just said, I’m the investigator of the unfortunate death of your friend. Could we go somewhere private?”

  “I’ve been working in the chancery here, and none of the local scribes has come around, so we should be alone.” Nabu-ahhe-idin led the way, and Hani and Maya followed. They came to a room that was perfectly familiar to scribes anywhere, with clay tablets and scrolls of papyrus stacked on shelves. A large table with stools around it reigned in the middle of the floor, littered with styluses and brushes and pots of water. Hani breathed in the comforting smell he knew so well and turned to the Babylonian. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about Lord Shulum-marduk?”

  “If it helps you take vengeance on the despicable assassin, ask away,” said Nabu-ahhe-idin fervently.

  “With your permission, my secretary will take notes.”

  The man smiled as if he recognized the assignment. Maya settled himself on the floor and pulled off his writing case while Hani and the scribe seated themselves at the table.

  “You say you’d known one another since school.”

  “Yes. We were both training to be translators. We went to Mizri—Kemet—together in our youth to perfect our accents. We were there perhaps six months then came home. Shulum-marduk drifted into the foreign service. I found a post in the army.”

  “What sort of man was he?”

  “Friendly. Loyal.” Nabu-ahhe-idin’s lip trembled. “He could be stubborn, but it was because he was so upright.”

  Hani thought that the deceased was probably just the sort of man who was greatly needed in the present crisis. But the gods had their reasons for permitting tragedy. He said in a gentle voice, “Tell me about your stay in the Two Lands, my friend. Did he cross anyone who might have had it in for him?”

  “But that was seventeen years ago, Lord Hani. Who carries a grudge for so long?”

  You’d be surprised how long people can harbor grudges. “Anything of any note otherwise?”

  The Babylonian pondered for a moment, stroking his beard. “He told me he’d witnessed a terrible accident once. He was coming back from your king’s jubilee—I wasn’t with him—when a girl fell off the boat and was badly injured.”

  Hani froze, his heart pounding. It had to have been Baket-iset! “Did he... did he have any observations about that accident?” he asked, scarcely daring to breathe. For a long time, he’d been unable to fully forgive himself for not having been there for his daughter—for not having caught her before she tumbled into the water, screaming. He’d jumped into the River after her, but the damage had been done. How many times had he asked himself how a graceful girl like Baket could have lost her footing? But he’d never again met any of the many people who were on the fateful ferry from the Per-hay, the king’s jubilee palace, to the east bank who might have relayed to him what had happened.

  “Not much. He told me everything he’d observed, but there was a crowd. He said the girl was talking to a man, and then she was overboard. I don’t know who that man might have been—perhaps he saw things up close.”

  Hani had trouble restraining himself from grabbing the scribe by the breast of his tunic and demanding that he summon up some concrete recollection. But of course, Nabu-ahhe-idin knew only what Shulum-marduk had told him. Hani forced himself to ask casually, “Did your friend ever return to Kemet, do you know?”

  “Not to my knowledge, my lord. At least not until this year. That’s where he was heading when...” Nabu-ahhe-idin lowered his eyes and clasped his hands in a gesture that might have been prayerful or simply humble in the face of the gods’ inscrutable will. After a moment, he said uncertainly, “I recall he said the man the girl was talking to had one eye.”

  A thrill ran up Hani’s spine. Dear gods! Could it be Amen-nefer? After all these years, could Hani be positioned now to hear from an eyewitness’s mouth what had cost his beautiful daughter her future? She seemed to have no recollection of anything before they fished her out of the water... Hani forced himself to still his hammering heart and say casually, “Anything else from that trip or any other time that you think might have earned someone’s enmity?”

  The scribe shook his head pensively. “I don’t think so. If something should come back to me, I’ll send for you, my lord. Of course”—he looked Hani in the eye—“I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be here. I think our king and yours are trying to work something out, and then we can go home.”

  Hani had trouble keeping his mind on the Babylonian’s assassination. He kept telling himself, Perhaps I’m about to learn what happened—after all these years! “Thank you. I appreciate deeply your cooperation. May our two lands enjoy peace and brotherhood for many generations.” The men exchanged amicable bows
, and Nabu-ahhe-idin made his way out the door and down the corridor with a brisk stride. Hani remained staring into space, his thoughts in a tumult.

  “Whew!” Maya exclaimed. “Do you think that could be Baket-iset’s accident? And that the witness was Amen-nefer?” He ranged his pen and ink in his writing case and got to his feet. He looked up at Hani with concern on his face. “Are you all right, my lord? You look pale.”

  Hani forced a laugh. “It could be him. And if so, I may finally get the story.” He gathered his diplomatic self-control about him and said matter-of-factly, “I guess we’ve gotten the information we needed here for our case. Time to migrate north with the birds. Tomorrow, let’s head back up to Kumidi.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Maya and Lord Hani reached the administrative city before the end of the week. Maya had fully expected that the brigands would fall upon their party somewhere in the bleak stretches of the desert across the River Yardon, but the journey was quiet. Passing through Temesheq, they found that Biryawaza was still not back in his capital.

  By the time they arrived in Kumidi, Maya was drenched with sweat, which the dry air lapped up quickly, leaving an itchy layer of salt on his skin. He was miserable and cross. Nothing but the thought of the little son Sati had to have given him by now kept his mind off the annoyances of the journey.

  He and Hani dismounted from their litter in the courtyard of the commissioner’s palace with relief. Only then did Maya realize how much hotter it had been—hip to hip in the litter, with no breeze—than it was outside.

  “Well, here we are,” said Lord Hani, stretching expansively. He fanned himself in the rapidly warming spring air and repositioned his wig, which he’d abandoned during the trip. “Let’s see if our commissioner is back from his shady meeting.” He shot Maya a knowing grin.

  The two men waved goodbye to their escort and headed up to the porch of the official residence, where the majordomo greeted them. “Shall I send a servant for your things, my lord? You can leave them right here, and I’ll see to it they’re brought to you,” he said smoothly, bowing with just the right amount of servility.

  “Yes. Zalaya is the person assigned to us.” Hani gave him a friendly smile.

  But the man’s face grew suddenly stiff, and he stammered, “He... uh... he’s no longer with us, my lord.”

  Maya and Hani exchanged a look of surprise. What’s this? Maya thought, an uneasy feeling making his way up the back of his neck.

  “You mean he’s been sold? Run away?”

  “I mean he is no longer alive, Lord Hani. But I’ll send someone else.” The majordomo turned in haste, as if he couldn’t wait to be away, and set off inside the palace, leaving Hani and Maya staring at each other.

  “What’s going on? This place seems to be getting dangerous.” Maya’s forehead grew damp with the realization that something could well and truly happen to him, too, and he might never see his little son.

  “Let’s go back to the room,” Hani said in a low tone, and the two of them set off into their wing, where they attained the room with a sense of relief. Hani closed the door quietly behind him.

  Then he turned to Maya, a troubled expression knitting his bushy eyebrows. “I’d like to know more about this. It seems very suspicious—just before we had a chance to interrogate him with an incentive to talk.”

  “Was this the same murderer who assassinated Shulum-marduk, do you think?”

  “It’s very likely. But who is that? The one thing that’s clear is that it’s someone on the palace staff.”

  “Leave it to that Amen-nefer to surround himself with thugs,” said Maya in disgust.

  Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Maya jumped, his instincts of survival suddenly all alert. Hani moved quickly to the door and stood there a moment as if listening, then he pulled it open with an abrupt gesture. It was only the slave with their baggage.

  “Where do you want me to put these, my lord?” the man asked meekly. He was a sturdy-looking fellow in his thirties, with a mashed nose and the same crushed air that all the other slaves seemed to carry with them.

  “Right here is fine,” said Hani with a smile. The slave deposited the baskets and leather pouches in a heap on the floor and made to withdraw, but Hani stopped him with a friendly hand on the shoulder. “I understand Zalaya has died.”

  The slave’s eyes grew round, and he froze. “Yes, my lord,” he said in a faint voice.

  “Was he ill?”

  “No, he... he was killed.”

  Yahya! thought Maya. Just as I suspected. Zalaya did know something, and somebody in this residence didn’t want to take chances.

  “How? Do you know?” Hani persisted.

  “I... I think he was strangled.” The slave had grown pale, as if he were on the verge of fainting with fear.

  Hani clapped him kindly on the shoulder. “What’s your name, son?” It would be a frightened man, indeed, who wouldn’t be reassured by that gesture.

  “Bin-addi, my lord.”

  “Why are you all so scared, Bin-addi?” Hani asked in a gentle, encouraging voice. “A fine, strapping young man like you—I’ll bet you’re plenty brave.”

  “It’s... it’s that strange things are happening here. Zalaya’s dead, and his wife...” The man hung his head with a grimace.

  “You know, I’m the king’s investigator. I’m here to figure out what those ‘strange things’ are. But someone who knows something needs to give me information, or I’ll never solve the case. I’ve been authorized to pay. I could even buy your freedom and take you back with me if your information is helpful.”

  The slave looked at Hani with hope in his eyes. “You would do that? Take me away?”

  “I swear on my mother’s ka.”

  I do believe he’s going to crack, Maya thought, a spark of excitement alight within.

  “Who killed Zalaya?” Hani asked again. “And what happened to his wife?”

  “His wife... she wasn’t supposed to be here. The commissioner doesn’t want women around. He says it’s bad for discipline. But she was in the kitchen working. The others covered for her. The children worked there too—doing the tasks little children can do. Turning the spit or carrying things.”

  “How do people who are married usually manage around here?” Maya asked.

  “They keep a little place in the city somewhere. It’s a lot safer anyway.” Bin-addi swallowed. “She was found out and... and raped and beaten, my lord, right in front of the children. And on top of that, she lost her husband.”

  Maya suppressed a wave of nausea and disgust. He could see on Hani’s expressive face the same emotions.

  “Who did this terrible thing?” Hani asked in a strangled voice.

  Bin-addi had opened his mouth to speak when a knock sounded at the door. He froze, his face twisted with terror.

  “Lord Hani?” It was the brassy voice of Amen-nefer. “I’ve found out something for you. Can we talk?”

  Maya caught his breath in fear, and Bin-addi looked absolutely petrified, staring around him, wild-eyed, as if he would like to bolt out the window.

  Hani called, “I just took a bath, my lord. I haven’t dressed yet. Can you give me just a moment?”

  “Of course, of course,” the commissioner said through the door.

  “You, into the clothes press,” Hani hissed at the slave.

  Bin-addi jumped into the chest and compacted his muscular body into a remarkably small space.

  Hani lowered the lid on him quietly. Then Hani poured water from his drinking gourd over his head and grabbed up a towel. “Come in.”

  Amen-nefer entered to find Lord Hani toweling his wet hair. “Forgive me, my lord commissioner. I don’t usually receive in this condition, but we just got back.” He smiled amiably and threw the towel over a shoulder.

  Amen-nefer said, “I hope I’m not intruding. I thought I heard voices.”

  Hani laughed. “That was my secretary Maya here. He’s a master of impersonation. Maya, do Lord M
aya for the commissioner.”

  Maya caught his father-in-law’s eye in horror. His face burning, he drew himself up and lifted an eyebrow. Looking haughtily down his nose, he said in an upper-class drawl, “I wish you wouldn’t let just anyone in, Hani, my friend.” He had to swallow precipitously and hoped his audience wouldn’t hear the evidence of his nervousness.

  Amen-nefer threw back his handsome head and laughed. “Amazing! He’s damned skillful.”

  “Yes,” said Hani with a conspiratorial sidelong glance at Maya. “He’s a man of many parts.” He smiled his broad, gap-toothed grin at the commissioner, to all appearances completely at ease.

  With a breath of relief, Maya thought, What a master of concealment. I’m practically shaking, and he looks cool as can be.

  Amen-nefer seated himself on the bed. “I wanted to tell you that I sniffed around in Qidshu when I was up there recently, and I learned a few things. The garrison at Temesheq has a handful of men missing. We may have found our renegades.”

  Maya heard the words in amazement.

  Hani said, “That’s a good lead, indeed, my lord. We wondered why you had gone to Qidshu, since it’s not in your jurisdiction.”

  “I wanted to meet with my fellow commissioner and hear the explanation of our two vassals, Temesheq and Qidshu, both accused of disloyalty. They were quite open, although naturally they blamed it on others.”

  “What did they confess to?”

  “To fraternizing with the hapiru. They said they had to keep them pacified, that their protection was a sort of payoff so the nomads wouldn’t attack their cities and convoys.” Amen-nefer snorted. “They said that if we were protecting them as we ought, they wouldn’t need to be so opportunistic.”

  Hani nodded with an understanding smile. “So it’s our fault, eh? They should be happy that our lord king is planning an expedition up here.”

  “Perhaps. Although I rather think they enjoy their status as fence-sitters.”

  “Are they tempted to go over to Kheta?”

  “They didn’t admit to it. I made it clear to them that the yoke of Kheta is considerably more burdensome than ours.” The commissioner grinned.