He was ordered to drive at a modest pace, with Nebra directing his course and Zulaya and Anath following. Meren searched his surroundings as he drove, for it was clear they would meet more guards before attacking Dilalu. If he was going to escape before Zulaya forced him to participate in a murder, it would have to be soon. They skirted the edge of the Caverns, walking the horses through streets filled with pedestrians—women on their way to the river with baskets of laundry, farmers riding donkeys laden with produce, herdsmen whose sheep and pigs scuttled through the streets on the way to butchers.
Meren didn’t see any opportunity to escape until they were far enough away from Anath’s house to prevent Zulaya from calling for help. Soon the streets they took were too narrow to afford room to maneuver. Meren grew more anxious the longer they drove. Dilalu’s hiding place had to be close, and he must take a chance quickly.
At last the crooked lane on which they traveled opened into a busy market in space surrounded by workshops and storehouses. Stalls topped with palm branches cluttered every surface, and there wasn’t much room for the chariots. Nebra drew nearer and pressed the knifepoint into Meren’s flesh when a flower seller thrust a garland at him. Meren shook his head and guided the chariot away from her. Behind them Zulaya snarled at the woman as she tried the same trick with him. When Nebra ordered him to go around an old man selling sandals from a basket, Meren turned Wind and Star to the left, but gave the reins a tiny flick. The horses danced sideways, causing the chariot to wrench, but Nebra kept his footing.
Meren cursed his ill luck as he maneuvered through the stalls and pedestrians. Their route was so circuitous that they doubled back and ended up at right angles to Zulaya and Anath. The old sandal vendor had blocked the chariot and was hawking his wares, oblivious to Zulaya’s threats. Finally Zulaya gave the reins to Anath, and got out of the vehicle to rid himself of the old man.
Meren scoured the market for a way to distract Nebra. He was contemplating startling the green monkey sitting on the roof of a cloth stall when he glimpsed Khufu out of the corner of his eye. The scarred feline was sitting beside Zulaya’s chariot and wore an air of frenzied anticipation Meren knew well. He braced himself as Zulaya walked back to the vehicle. Khufu’s paw shot out. There was a hiss, and dirty claws sank into Zulaya’s foot. Zulaya cried out, and for a mere instant Nebra’s predatory attention faltered.
At the same time Meren’s elbow jabbed into his gut. He wrenched around, gripped Nebra’s wrist, and twisted it as his captor thrust with the knife. Meren bashed Nebra’s hand against the side of the chariot. The cloak over the assassin’s arm fell, but the blow failed to jar the weapon loose. He kneed Meren in the stomach and lashed out with his foot. Meren took the blows and nearly lost his grip on the knife hand. Gasping for breath, he felt Nebra heave, and he was thrown off balance. He heard Zulaya’s voice, and knew he had no time left. Releasing Nebra suddenly, he braced with both arms and rammed the young man with both feet. As he did so vendors and customers alike ran from the combatants, stumbling and screaming. The green monkey screeched, jumped onto the chariot where Anath was trying to control the startled horses, and slapped at Khufu with its tiny hands.
Nebra hurtled backward from the chariot and hit Zulaya as he ran toward the fighters. The knife flew from the assassin’s hand at the impact and landed under the chariot. Before either man could recover, Meren jumped down and fished under the vehicle for the knife. With an economy of movement Nebra rolled off Zulaya and to his feet and drew a dagger, all in one motion. Nebra took but a heartbeat to draw back his arm, wearing an expression of casual mastery. All this he did in the time it took Meren to find the knife and Zulaya to get to his feet.
Meren saw Nebra’s movements as a blur. He was holding the assassin’s knife by the handle. Without thinking, in that state of supreme alertness that battle induced, he drew the knife back so that his forearm blocked his lower face and threw it with a slashing, diagonal movement. The blade impaled Nebra through the eye, and his hands came up to grip it before he tottered and fell. As he did, Zulaya leaped over his body and planted himself in front of Meren, knife in hand. He shook his head.
“I have been foolish, it seems.”
“Yes,” Anath said.
Meren looked over his shoulder to find her behind him, also armed with a blade. His gaze darted from one to the other as they drew their knives back, preparing for the kill. All at once there was a high-pitched squeal, a growling hiss, and the green monkey scampered across the empty space created by their fight with Khufu in pursuit. The creature glanced over its shoulder, saw Khufu gaining, and scrambled up Zulaya’s leg to perch on his shoulders.
Anath threw her knife as Khufu clawed his way up after the monkey. Meren dodged it, and the blade impaled Zulaya in the chest as he stood struggling with the cat and the monkey. Frightened by the blow, the animals sprang off Zulaya. Anath cried out and rushed to her father with Meren close behind. He grabbed her, but she twisted out of his grip and threw herself down beside the wounded man. Sobbing uncontrollably, Anath tried to staunch the blood that flowed from the wound around the knife.
Meren knelt on the other side of Zulaya, shoved Anath, and gripped the man’s face. “You’re dying. Tell me what you planned for my family, Zulaya. Don’t go to the underworld with more evil to weight down your ka.”
Zulaya gasped, panting, and his lips twisted into a grimace.
Meren gripped him hard. “Zulaya, tell me!”
Around them the sound of panic lessened when foot soldiers entered the market from several directions. Trumpets blared, but Meren paid no attention.
Anath thrust Meren aside and gathered Zulaya in her arms.
“Father, Father, I didn’t mean to—” she choked and sobbed again.
Zulaya’s color was fading rapidly, and his voice was weak. “No, my little jewel, of course you did not. No matter, no matter.”
“Do something!” Anath screamed at Meren.
“Tell him to reveal the traps he set for my children,” Meren ground out. “He’s dying. The only thing that should concern him is his soul.”
Zulaya’s eyes opened wide, and he turned his face to Meren and laughed. “The ever honorable Meren.” He wet his fingertips in his blood and touched Meren’s lips. Meren jerked away, but not in time to avoid the blood. Zulaya laughed weakly again, and his hand dropped.
“I can’t help it. For all your talent, riches, and beauty, the truth still escapes you. After all the blood,” he said, “you still don’t know who was behind it all.”
“Don’t try to avoid the judgment of the gods with your lies,” Meren said. He pulled Zulaya up by his robe so that their faces were close together. “Tell me how to save my children, or by all the gods of creation, I’ll pursue your soul to the depths of the underworld to see you suffer agonies beyond imagining.”
Zulaya smiled as blood appeared between his lips, and he held Meren’s gaze. “She betrayed us all when she reconciled with the priests of Amun. My doings were sanctioned by her evil.”
Meren’s shout filled the marketplace, but Zulaya paid him no heed. The wounded man’s gaze shifted to Anath, who held her breath as he gasped.
“My little jewel.”
“Damn you, Zulaya!”
Meren watched with horror as life faded from the merchant’s eyes. There was a rattling in his throat, and he died. Anath screamed and collapsed on her father’s body, wailing.
Meren found it hard to stand, but he did. Desperation crowded out the pain of scrapes and aching muscles. It banished the humiliation and pain of Anath’s betrayal. With an animal-like growl, he stooped and tore her from her father’s body.
“It seems I’m too late to save you as you saved me.”
Meren whirled around. Dragging Anath with him, he sank to the ground at the feet of the king. He hadn’t even noticed the royal soldiers busy putting the market in order or understood the significance of the trumpet call. Tutankhamun stood beside his new chariot with his royal bodyguard arraye
d behind him.
“Rise, Meren. I was driving my new chariot past Golden House, and Lady Bener accosted me with the news that the Eyes of Babylon had betrayed my majesty.” Tutankhamun glared at Anath. “And you.”
“My daughter, majesty?”
“Indeed. She feared the woman had lured you away for an evil purpose and that Kysen might be too late to prevent it.” Tutankhamun walked over to look at Zulaya’s body. “But you didn’t need me at all.”
“I am grateful for thy care, majesty.”
“Who is this man?”
“He is called Zulaya, majesty, but once he was known as the Aten priest, Thanuro. It was he who committed the crime I was investigating for thy majesty, but there is an urgent matter I must resolve. I beg leave to question the Eyes of Babylon at once, Golden One, for Zulaya set traps for my children that were to spring if he was killed.”
“Him?” The king fixed Zulaya’s body with a stare so intense it should have burst into flames. “At last,” Tutankhamun breathed. Abruptly he turned to Meren without even glancing at Anath. “You may question her. I’ll send reinforcements to Golden House for Bener’s protection and send others to find Kysen. He went in search of you and by now he’s probably on your trail.”
Anath had stopped wailing. As the king spoke, she suddenly pulled the dagger from Zulaya’s chest.
Meren shouted, “Majesty!”
Tutankhamun was already moving. His foot lashed out, hit Anath’s arm, and knocked the knife free. She cried out in pain as Karoya leaped between the king and her and aimed his spear at her. The Nubian glanced at pharaoh, awaiting the order to kill.
“Give her to Meren,” the king said. “When he’s finished, my majesty would question the Eyes of Babylon before she dies.”
Meren dragged Anath to a deserted beer stall and shoved her against it. Her tears had yet to dry, but she faced him without flinching. Meren had no interest in her daring.
Holding himself in check, Meren spoke with barely leashed violence. “Even I can’t save you, but I may be able to persuade pharaoh to grant you a painless death. Help me protect my children, and I will intercede with him on your behalf.”
Anath eyed him with hatred. “You killed my father as surely as if you wielded the knife yourself. I want to see you suffer as I do.”
“Even at the price of your own agony.” Meren grabbed her arms and lifted her so that her face was close to his. “In all your years abroad, have you forgotten what black horror awaits those whom pharaoh’s wrath condemns?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “If I have to, I’ll cut off your fingers and toes one at a time and make you watch me feed them to his majesty’s leopard.”
At last he saw fear flicker in Anath’s eyes.
“You know me,” he said. “I give you my promise, and make this vow by the souls of my children. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I will make your death so horrible it will make the demons of the underworld piss with fright.”
“Don’t!” Anath began to struggle, and Meren released her. She fell against the beer stall and blurted out, “Nebra was in charge of the plans for your family. He was the one who was to decide whom to kill and when to do it. With him dead, you have nothing to fear.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
Anath straightened and gave him a sly look. “An excellent question. You’ll never be certain unless I give you the names of Father’s men. Persuade pharaoh to send me into exile instead of killing me, and I’ll give you all of them.”
Meren hesitated, but his answer was forestalled when Karoya came for them. They returned to the king.
“Majesty, Anath says she’ll give us the names of all Zulaya’s men if you will exile her instead of putting her to death.”
“You know my answer to that, Meren.”
“But, majesty—”
“No! She has betrayed my majesty and endangered the kingdom. She has plotted with one whose power threatened mine.” Tutankhamun lashed his chariot whip against his thigh as he glared at Anath. “You will give me the names of Zulaya’s men and reveal every plot and evil plan.”
Meren dropped to his knees before the king. “Please, majesty. I fear for the lives of my children.”
He bent down and touched his forehead to the ground before the king’s feet. He heard the whip slap rhythmically, then the king ordered Anath taken away. Meren felt desperation begin to take hold of his thoughts. He was startled when Tutankhamun spoke again.
“Rise, Meren.”
He stood and lifted his gaze to behold a chilly and ruthless youth. Abruptly the severity in the king’s expression faded, and his voice softened.
“I will bargain with her for your sake.”
“I am grateful beyond expression, majesty.”
“You’ve nearly lost your life in my service once again. How could I not protect you and those close to you in return?” The king smiled at him. “Anath will suffer no harm while she is in my kingdom, and she will be sent into exile.”
Meren bowed low to the king. As he did so Kysen and a complement of charioteers appeared across the marketplace. The king gave a string of orders and stalked to his chariot.
Kysen hurried over to Meren. “Father, you’re all right? What happened? That’s Zulaya.” Understanding broke over him, and he looked at Zulaya’s body again. “It was him?”
“Yes,” Meren said. He was watching the king and Anath. She was on her knees before pharaoh, and when the king barked out an order, Karoya and another guard dropped to one knee and listened to their prisoner intently.
“What’s happening?” Kysen asked.
“Not now, Ky. You shouldn’t even be on your feet, much less out in the streets.”
Karoya and the guard stood, saluted pharaoh, and vanished into the crowd. The king beckoned to Meren.
When Meren joined him, pharaoh nodded to Kysen and said, “My majesty is pleased to allow Mistress Anath to go into exile once it is proved she has revealed all the secrets of the traitor Zulaya. Until then she will be imprisoned.”
Tutankhamun left them abruptly and motioned Kysen to accompany him. As Meren watched them go, he was suddenly aware of his misery and exhaustion. But he still had questions for Anath, though it cost him much to face her again. Released from fear for his children, however, he could no longer ignore the personal betrayal that lay between them. She had exposed him, and he hated feeling naked and defenseless. And it was painful to behold her fierceness, her courage, now that he knew she’d never loved him.
Holding himself in check, Meren spoke quietly. “Thanuro was your father?”
“Why are you surprised?” Anath snapped, bitterness etching lines around her mouth and eyes. “My mother was bound to an old man. Tell me you haven’t served as a refuge and giver of pleasure to a young woman saddled with an ancient partner.”
Meren had no answer to a commonplace problem. Young men were often without means to set up a household of their own. Older ones could afford to do so, and many refused to admit that affording the company of several women was not the same as making them happy.
“I can’t believe that you committed treason and murder simply to help your father.”
Anath snorted. “No, I don’t suppose you can, you with your golden lineage and place at the right hand of the king. What did I have? Nothing but scraps from that old wreck of a man, until Fa—” A spasm of pain passed over her.
“But Ay trained you, gave you a position to which few women could aspire.”
“He did that for his own ends, not for me. No one ever thought about me except Father. Did you?” Anath’s voice trembled with animosity. “None of you cared how I felt about being a spy and a whore. Did you ever ask me what I wanted? I would have told you, back then, at Horizon of the Aten. Do you want to know now?” She spat at his feet. “I wanted to be like other girls, curse you. I wanted a husband and children and to be called mistress of the house, like any woman of honor and good birth. And because of Ay and the rest of you, I
was denied all of that!”
Meren opened his mouth to refute her accusations, but no words came. How could he know what a young girl might feel in such a situation?
“You could have refused,” he said.
Anath’s eyes glittered, and she gave a sharp laugh. “Do you know what my choice was? I could accept Ay’s offer, or marry an ancient nobleman my father insisted upon. He stank, Meren, and he had no teeth.”
“I’m sorry,” Meren said. “I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t care. The only one who did was my real father. He tried to buy me from the old man, but he was refused. So I became one of the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh.” Anath bowed mockingly. “Your servant.”
“And you’ve been Zulaya’s ally all along.”
“Why do you think I went to Babylon?”
Meren looked away. “So you came home to help him by spying on me.”
“Did you know he admired you?” Anath’s lips twisted in a parody of a smile. “When you began to investigate Nefertiti’s death, he wasn’t alarmed. He thought he would rid himself of you easily. Later, when you survived all that he threw at you, he began to respect you. I told him you were dangerous and that trying to control you was foolhardy, but he wouldn’t listen. He wanted to keep you, like some kind of war trophy.”
“And you wanted to kill me.”
Anath met his eyes with resentment. “He was the only person besides my mother who ever really cared about me. Me, not the Eyes of Babylon. I didn’t have to earn his good opinion or his affection. He loved me, and I was afraid for him. With good reason.” She turned to gaze at her father’s body, still lying on the packed earth of the market.
“I must know one thing.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Why did he poison the queen?”
“He never told me,” Anath said. “I think she discovered he was spying on her for pharaoh and threatened to ruin him. None of you understood him. He was serving pharaoh by watching the queen and her daughters, protecting them against heresy and seeing that they didn’t fall victim to misguided notions. It was long ago, and he must have had an overwhelming reason to kill her. She must have tried to harm him.”
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