Slayer of Gods

by Lynda S. Robinson

  Bener dragged her gaze from Meren. “What? Oh. Yes, my great warrior. We’re blessed by Hathor.”

  Meren scowled at Rudu, then at his daughter.

  “Lord Meren,” Rudu piped. “Mistress Bener has invited me and my father and mother to sail on your pleasure yacht tomorrow. I hope you’ll be there too.”

  Meren blinked at Rudu. The young fool was inviting him aboard his own ship. The wine fumes and heavy scent coming from Rudu sparked an ache in Meren’s head. A vein throbbed at his temple. Bener had no use for Rudu. She’d primped herself and wooed the idiot as some sort of scheme to investigate Prince Usermontu. If Usermontu really was guilty of murdering Nefertiti and discovered the ruse, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill both Kysen and Bener.

  Gritting his teeth, Meren managed a smile. “Alas, I’m too weary from my journey. Perhaps another time, Lord Rudu.”

  “Of course,” Rudu replied.

  Meren took Bener’s hand and squeezed it firmly. “Bener, my dear, where is Kysen?”

  Bener gave Rudu a nervous smile, tugged her hand out of Meren’s, and pointed to a group of chairs on the other side of the master’s dais. “Over there, Father.”

  Meren politely excused himself, gave a severe look to Bener, and joined a group of men sitting in a small circle around a table laden with wine flagons and food. Kysen was one of them, and sitting to his right was Prince Usermontu looking as pleased as if he’d received the Gold of Honor from pharaoh. Meren greeted the two and nodded to Maya, General Horemheb, and the royal high steward, Amunhotep. A slave brought Meren’s chair from the dais, and he sat between Usermontu and Maya.

  The prince had never been a modest man. He had a commanding air and attitude of entitlement that had always irritated Meren. His sharp gaze spoke of a calculating intelligence. Of middle stature, with drooping eyelids and the remnants of pleasing looks that had once fascinated court ladies, Usermontu had aged since his days of influence at Horizon of the Aten. He’d developed a tremor in his hands that he concealed by keeping them clasped, but he seemed in great good humor this evening.

  “I saw you come in, Meren,” said Usermontu. “I’m glad you’re back, because something of great import has happened in your absence.”

  Meren raised his eyebrows at Kysen, who was abnormally silent. His son barely met his gaze before looking down at the cup of wine in his hands.

  “What might that be?” Meren asked.

  Usermontu beamed at him. “Can’t you guess? You were speaking with my son and your daughter not a moment past.”

  Meren turned and looked at the two young people. Bener leaned up to Lord Rudu and laughed as she swished her transparent overrobe and tossed her elaborate false tresses. Her lashes fluttered, and Rudu’s chest swelled.

  Looking down to conceal his horror, Meren cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. “I see. Indeed, this is a surprise. A pleasant one, to be sure, but one best discussed privately. I’m sure you agree, prince.”

  Usermontu gave him a look of knowing familiarity that made Meren want to cuff him. The man was a brute to women, and Meren had never invited him to Golden House because he detested such barbarity. Now here he was wallowing in the reception hall, smirking. And he had the presumption to think that Meren would—Best not pursue that thought.

  “Kysen,” Meren said lightly. “I would have a word with you regarding family business.” He rose and bowed to the guests. “You understand, my friends. Matters that can’t be delayed after so long an absence.”

  Maya gave him a sly look. “Naturally. I’m sure there are things that have come up that are quite urgent.”

  “Urgent,” Horemheb repeated with a grin that turned into a laugh. Sending a scowl in their direction, Meren left with Kysen on his heels. He sought the comparative privacy of a dark corner behind three tall jars of beer in stands. Rounding on Kysen, he hissed.

  “Explain yourself, my son.”

  Kysen winced and said with a rush, “I’m sorry, Father. Bener began this little play of hers without consulting me. I came upon her hanging over the roof ledge goggling and simpering at Rudu, and the next day he was in our garden. He loafed there half the day with Bener, and after he left, I told her she couldn’t invite him here anymore. But she had already asked him again. She said Prince Usermontu was ecstatic with anticipation at the possibility of a match between her and his son. After that, I couldn’t think of a way to get out of the situation without offending the prince, so I decided to wait until you came back.”

  “I cannot believe this,” Meren muttered.

  He collected his thoughts while Kysen eyed him with anxiety.

  “This whole pretense was unnecessary, curse it. I’m going to begin open questioning of Usermontu, Lord Pendua, and Dilalu. Has Bener learned anything?”

  “I don’t know,” Kysen said unhappily. “She’s says she’s too busy to talk, but I think she’s been avoiding me.”

  “She won’t be busy much longer,” Meren snapped.

  Kysen sighed and said, “I might as well tell you she also visited Lord Pendua’s wife.”

  Meren stared at him open-mouthed. “By the gods, Ky. I have to be able to leave without you two mismanaging my affairs.”

  Kysen nodded, his half-moon eyes sad. “I have failed you.”

  Relenting, Meren clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s not so bad. Bener is difficult, and you’re easygoing.”

  Looking past Meren, Kysen pointed. “I may be, but Lord Irzanen isn’t.”

  Meren turned to see one of his newest charioteers lurking near Bener and Lord Rudu. He’d noticed Irzanen’s interest in Bener, and it was apparent that the young man took offense at Rudu’s attentions to Bener. He directed knifelike looks at his rival through eyes narrowed to slits. He prowled around the two, moving from group to chattering group, craning his neck and muttering to himself. If the room hadn’t been so crowded he would have attracted attention.

  Meren sighed and started for the young charioteer. “At least Irzanen is from a family of decent character. I know you think he’s too trusting.”

  “He’s simple,” Kysen said as he followed Meren to where Irzanen stalked his unsuspecting quarry.

  “Not simple. You mistake his straightforward manner and lack of diplomacy for stupidity.” Meren slowed and came to a stop in the middle of the hall. “What is this?”

  A long line of servants approached from the anteroom, each carrying a basket or some other burden. As they snaked their way toward Meren they nudged, bumped, and shoved guests with their burdens. At their head was a short, squat man with a bumptious manner and jewelry too big for his small frame.

  “Pendua,” Meren said in disbelief.

  Kysen groaned. “I forgot Bener had invited him.”

  Lord Pendua marched up to Meren, his chest stuck out, his head held as high as it would go. He beamed at his hosts like a great general returning from a victory against the wild tribes of Kush. Pendua was one of those men who made up for lack of height by acquiring great strength. He exercised so much that even his chin seemed muscled. Unfortunately all those muscles made him seem wider rather than taller, giving him a simian appearance. When he walked he bounced on the balls of his feet as if he expected to be attacked and would be disappointed if he wasn’t.

  Indeed, among his equals Pendua was always ready for fights that seldom developed. He had a quick temper, and a habit of overdoing whatever he attempted. Meren looked askance at the dozens of servants crowding the hall and resigned himself. Nodding when Pendua bowed to him, he gave Kysen a covert glare and welcomed his guest.

  “May Ra shine favorably upon your house, Lord Meren.” Pendua glanced around the room to make sure everyone had stopped talking and was watching him. Then he proceeded. “I come to your feast bearing gifts of appreciation for the new friendship that has sprung up between the ladies of our households. Where is that servant? Oh, there you are. Well, come on, come on.”

  A serving man came forward with a square ivory box ornamented with
gilded hieroglyphs symbolizing life and health. He lifted the lid to display sixteen compartments, each bearing a small gold or silver vessel.

  Pendua indicated the box with a flourish. “For my dear friend, Lord Meren. Rare spices of Nubia and Punt.” He beckoned to the next servant in line. “Three pistacia seedlings for your garden. Come along, all of you.” The servants passed in quick succession while Pendua announced what they bore. “Cakes of ladanum resin for incense, six whole jars of fenugreek oil, four whole jars of colocynth oil, five whole jars of poppy oil, seven baskets containing dried chamomile, sweet flag, coriander, mint, thyme, and bryony.”

  “Pendua,” Meren said.

  “Alkanet shrubs, half a dozen bottles of the best cedar oil.” Pendua held up something in his hand. “A pair of gilded leather sandals.” He shoved them at a servant and grabbed a box from the next. “A set of throwing sticks of the finest polished cedar.” He gave the box back to a servant and ignored Meren’s attempt to interrupt him again. “Six pairs of fine driving gloves, a stool of gilded wood, ebony, and ivory, and an unguent vase carved in the likeness of an ibex.”

  Pendua rushed forward and snatched an object covered with a cloth and held it out to Meren. “And my last and greatest gift.”

  With great ceremony and pride, Pendua unveiled a vase of pure, shining silver in the shape of a pomegranate. A murmur of admiration went through the assembled guests. Meren looked at it in alarm, then hastened to thank Pendua before the man could launch into another speech. He called for wine for his guest and ushered him to the group sitting beside the master’s dais. With Pendua ensconced in the best chair of ebony, cedar, and gold, he sat beside the man and beckoned to his son. Kysen came over and leaned down to hear him.

  “I will avenge myself for this, Ky. Because of you and Bener I’m going to have to question this man after he has bestowed a small mountain of luxuries upon me. Go find your sister and tell her to bring this cursed feast to an end.”

  Meren forced himself to make conversation with Pendua and Usermontu. His real friends knew his opinion of the two men, so he endured knowing looks from Horemheb and glances of sly amusement from Maya. Finally Kysen returned, without his sister.

  “Where is Bener?” Meren demanded under his breath as the conversation swirled around him.

  “I can’t find her.”

  “What do you mean you can’t find her?”

  “I’ve looked all over the house, sent the servants and charioteers to search the whole compound, asked everyone I met. She’s gone.”

  “Nonsense.”

  Kysen dropped to one knee beside Meren and met his gaze with one of anxiety. “No, Father. That’s why I took so long. We’ve searched everywhere. She’s gone.”

  “In the middle of the feast,” Meren said in a toneless voice.

  The noise of the guests faded, and the room seemed to go dark. Bener had disappeared. She wouldn’t run away from him out of fear. When she got into trouble, she faced his ire. Bener wouldn’t leave an entertainment of which she was the hostess. She might have left in pursuit of something she perceived as a vital clue. Or someone forced her to go.

  A cold, netherworld terror invaded Meren’s heart. Only a lifetime’s experience at hiding his feelings kept him in control, but barely. He went still, and all emotion faded from his expression.

  “Bring Rudu and Irzanen to me at once. One of them has to know where she is.”

  “I’ve already talked to them, Father.”

  “One of them knows where she is,” Meren repeated as he drummed his fingers on the chair arm. “They might not confide in you, but they’re going to confide in me.”

  Chapter 12

  Meren stilled the terror that made him want to summon his charioteers and rampage the entire city in search of his daughter. With a discipline learned at a court ruled by a dangerous fanatic he forced himself to remain in his chair conversing with his guests. It seemed an eternity before Kysen returned with Rudu and Irzanen.

  “Ah, here’s my son,” Usermontu said with his habitual smirk. “The finest charioteer in the city. Can’t think why you never admitted him into your company, Meren.”

  Ignoring the prince, Meren excused himself and walked over to a lamp stand with the three younger men. Rounding on them, he hissed. “Say at once where my daughter is.”

  “In truth, Lord Meren,” Rudu said with a scowl at Irzanen. “You should ask this overgrown hyena pup here. He seems to think he has some interest in my connection with Lady Bener, which he does not. He appeared out of nowhere and blurted out the most foul accusations, and your daughter took offense.”

  Irzanen had been smoldering, and he uttered a curse. “You arrogant son of a—”

  “Irzanen,” Meren said in a quiet but lethal tone that silenced the charioteer. Having gained the attention of both men, he continued. “Tell me what happened after you had words before my daughter.”

  Irzanen cast a fulminating look at his adversary before he spoke. “I saw this—I saw him. He touched her face in front of everyone, the insolent dog. If you’d seen him, lord, you would have taken offense. I merely pointed this out to Lady Bener, but she became angry.”

  “Nearly snapped his nose off,” Rudu said with a grin.

  Kysen sighed. “No wonder I saw her drag Irzanen out of the reception hall.”

  “She was annoyed,” Irzanen said reluctantly, reddening. “She pulled me outside, near one of the reflection pools in the front court, and berated me for interfering where I wasn’t concerned. She—she’s quite eloquent when she’s angry.”

  Kysen asked, “Where did she go after your argument?”

  “I don’t know,” Irzanen said. “She made me angry, accusing me of rudeness and calling me an officious busybody, I gave her a few of my own observations about her character, and then I left. I saw her stalking off toward the rear of the house as I went in the front door.”

  Meren held up his hand for silence. “Ky, you’ve searched the outbuildings and the gardens thoroughly?”

  Kysen gave a sharp nod.

  “You can’t find her?” Rudu asked. He turned on Irzanen. “What have you done with her?”

  Irzanen raised his fists and moved only to find Meren blocking his way. Meren’s gaze cut into him, slicing through flesh and bone. His fingertips caressed the hilt of the dagger in his belt. Then Kysen was beside him.

  “No, Father.”

  “Lord, I swear, I would never harm your daughter. I lo—I admire her above all other women.” When Meren said nothing, Irzanen rushed on. “You may ask Mistress Takhat or Prince Djoser. They saw her leave me, and they saw me go inside alone.”

  Irzanen sighed with relief when Meren nodded and released him from his gaze. Meren hadn’t really believed Irzanen responsible for Bener’s disappearance, but he had to be sure. Now there was no choice but to accept that his daughter was missing. The terror he’d been keeping at bay flared up and intensified. He thought furiously while Kysen, Rudu, and Irzanen argued the next step among themselves. Meren cut through their exchange.

  “Kysen, find Abu and tell him to seal the house and grounds. No one is to leave…” His words faded away as he saw Wia, his grandson’s nurse, approaching. She held something that made his heart pound against his chest. “Your pardon, lord, but someone asked me to give you this.”

  In both hands she held dozens of beads that had once been strung together, amethyst and gold ball beads interspersed with tiny gold scarabs. He recognized them at once; they’d formed a double-stranded necklace that had once been his wife’s. He’d given it to Bener last year at the Feast of Opet. Wia dropped the torn necklace into Meren’s cupped hand. He barely heard Kysen swear as the nurse proffered a folded and sealed note. Meren handed the necklace to Kysen, broke the plain seal, and opened the note.

  Lady Bener is safe as long as you do as you are commanded. Abandon at once the inquiry in which you are engaged. Go to pharaoh and place responsibility for the crime upon Yamen. Let none suspect your distress. Do a
s you are commanded by sunset tomorrow or your daughter will perish.

  The black spider’s tracks that formed the script blurred as Meren stared at the unsigned message. He made a guttural sound as a windstorm of fear and rage nearly consumed him. Rudu stepped back as Meren crushed the papyrus and uttered a stream of brutal invectives.

  Kysen moved between Meren and Rudu. “Forgive us, Lord Rudu. No doubt my sister has been imprudent and has sent a note to explain herself to Lord Meren. Please excuse us.”

  Meren closed his eyes and willed himself into silence as Kysen ushered Rudu away. Then he opened his eyes and sought out Usermontu. The prince was still chatting with Pendua, Horemheb, and Maya and looking pleased with himself Pendua was casting covert glances around the reception hall as if looking for someone. Hatred flooded Meren. One of them could be responsible for Bener’s abduction. He could find out. All he needed to do was dangle them from their heels over a hungry crocodile on the riverbank. Meren narrowed his eyes, seething with the urge to attack.

  “Lord?” Irzanen hovered beside him.

  Meren ignored him, stared at Pendua, breathing hard. Kysen appeared in front of him, and he barely felt the hand on his arm.

  “Father?” he whispered. “What is it?”

  “He took her,” Meren said, still staring. “Someone took Bener.”

  When Kysen went mute Irzanen asked, “Who, lord?”

  “Never mind,” Meren said distractedly.

  “But, lord!”

  “Be silent!” Meren roared.

  There was sudden quiet in the hall as guest after guest paused. Meren darted glances around the room, then muttered to Kysen. “I’m going to my rooms. Tell them I’m ill. Tell them I’m still weak from my wounds, anything. End this damnable feast and get rid of everyone, but make sure you know who was here.”

  Without another word Meren shoved Irzanen aside. As he left someone stepped in his path.

  “Not like you to lose your temper with one of your young recruits, old friend.” Horemheb blocked his way, his eyes holding curiosity and faint worry.

  Meren managed a wry smile. “I beg your forbearance. I seem to have taxed my strength without realizing it.”