Meren threw himself aside, tripping over Satet’s prone body. He felt the ax slash the air beside his ear as he tumbled to the floor. Landing on his side, he rolled even as Eater of Souls turned and swung the ax up. At that moment Meren heard a thud. Eater of Souls paused in swinging the ax overhead, two daggers protruding from his chest. Meren jumped up as the demon stumbled and fell. Kysen ran to his side while Abu approached the Devouress.
“He still lives, lord.”
Meren and Kysen knelt beside the crocodile head, gripped the snout, and lifted it. Reshep’s burning eyes appeared. Meren shoved the mask aside and turned back to Reshep, who was staring at Kysen. Then his gaze fastened on Meren. Sudden recognition flared. Meren heard a low, watery growl. Kysen and Abu shouted. Bronze claws struck, slashing at Meren; but Kysen rammed the battle-ax against Reshep’s forearm. Reshep howled as Abu shoved one of the daggers deeper into his chest.
Shaken, Meren rose and stood looking at the body of the man, the crocodile’s head, the mane and hide. Abu recited a banishing spell. Meren’s lips moved silently as well. Kysen muttered an appeal to Amun for protection, then turned his attention to Satet, who was rousing from her faint. Beauty immediately flapped her wings at him and clacked her beak. Swearing, Abu grabbed the bird by the neck and thrust it into a large cage that sat beside the stairs.
While Kysen helped the old woman to a stool, Meren found a water bottle. He handed Satet a cup and poured her a drink.
“Reshep,” Kysen said over Satet’s head. “It was Reshep all this time. And he wanted to marry Isis, by the gods. What kind of unspeakable evil lodged in his heart that he could—”
Kysen’s half-moon eyes narrowed as he and Meren stared at each other.
“He was possessed,” Abu said. “Did you hear that voice? It was the voice of a fiend.” He pulled his dagger from Reshep’s body and began cleaning it on the hippo hide.
No one spoke. Satet began rocking back and forth while she hugged herself. Kysen stared at Reshep’s body with a speculative look.
“A strange possession,” Meren murmured.
Kysen turned to him. “What do you mean?”
Meren set the water jar aside, rose, and went to stand over the dead man. “I have been pondering something for a long time. Have you ever heard of one possessed by a demon or evil spirit only by night?”
Kysen shook his head.
“Or a demon who took the part of protector of a man?”
“Then why, lord?”
“I don’t know,” Meren said. He studied Reshep’s unmoving features, now as immobile as those of his crocodile mask. “Perhaps I’m wrong, but I cannot understand why the great gods of Egypt would concern themselves with a petty noble and send the great Ammut, the Devouress and Eater of Souls, to protect him. Perhaps some other fiend made him sick so that Reshep imagined that he was this favored one simply because that is what he wished to believe. From what we’ve learned about him, his mother certainly told him that often enough.”
“Then all this death, all this terror, was about Reshep and the things he wanted,” Kysen said.
“I think his heart was crazed, possessed of some evil fiend,” Meren said, “but not by Eater of Souls, and I’m almost certain not at the behest of Osiris, Amun, and Ra. The only chosen one of the gods in Egypt is pharaoh, may he have life, health, and prosperity.”
“Reshep,” Kysen said, shaking his head. “How did you know he was Eater of Souls?”
“Remember what I asked you? Whom had Mugallu and I both offended? I thought of several, but of those, I believed only Reshep truly had the kind of heart that would think small offenses deserving of death.”
Meren was looking at Satet. The old woman was still rocking herself.
“Aged one?” Meren asked. She didn’t reply.
He tried again. “Satet.”
No answer.
“Ky, we should take Satet home. Abu, remain here, and I’ll send Reia to you.”
“Here, lord? What if our spells haven’t banished the demon?” Abu was eyeing the crocodile head and making a sign against evil.
“Post yourself before the front door, and I’ll send priests along with Reia,” Meren said. He, too, wouldn’t want to stay here alone with Reshep, or Eater of Souls.
As they helped Satet out of the house, Kysen paused. Meren heard a sharp intake of breath as his son turned to him, his face barely visible in the dark.
“What do you suppose he did with the hearts?”
Meren had been asking himself the same thing, and the more he asked, the more he wished he hadn’t thought of the answer. “What does Eater of Souls do with the hearts of those condemned by the gods?”
He knew Kysen had understood him when his son pressed his lips together and swallowed. Silently they walked away from the house.
Chapter 17
Shortly before dawn Kysen strode down the corridor of the women’s quarters and stuck his head in Bener’s chamber. Bener was pacing but stopped when he appeared.
“You’re back. Why were you so long?”
“Where is Isis? I expected to find her waiting with you.”
“She went to bed hours ago. What happened? Didn’t you find Satet?”
Kysen muttered under his breath and plunged down the hall. Bener caught up with him as he reached Isis’s door and started pounding on it.
“Isis! Isis, you worthless piece of offal, I’m coming in!”
“What’s wrong?” Bener demanded. “Where’s Father?”
“He’s gone to the palace.” Kysen shoved the door open and darted into the chamber with Bener close behind.
Isis slept as perfectly as she dressed. Lying on her back, her headrest supporting her head, she rested with a single sheet draped over her body. Her arms lay beneath the linen. Kysen reached out, grabbed a handful of artfully arranged hair, and yanked. Isis howled and shot out of her nest, spitting and clawing. Undaunted, Kysen pulled his sister off the bed and sent her spinning across the room. She bounced against a chest and knocked over a cosmetics table as she landed. Kohl tubes, tweezers, unguent pots, ivory combs, and several mirrors flew in different directions. A blue-and-yellow-striped cosmetics bottle shaped like a fish shattered at Kysen’s feet.
Unhurt, Isis launched herself from the floor, snatching a pot as she went. She hurled it at him, screeching invectives. Kysen ducked and heard the pot hit a wall. Bener dodged flying shards. Several maids appeared in the doorway, but they vanished upon seeing Kysen. Isis bent to pick up a jar, but Kysen kicked it out of range and grabbed a handful of hair at the back of her head. He stuck his face close to hers and shouted over her shrieks.
“You spoiled, selfish spawn of a dung pit, you nearly got Father killed!”
Bener thrust herself between them. “Stop this!”
She pulled on Isis’s hair and Kysen’s fist. Isis was screaming, jumping, and trying to kick Kysen. Rather than have Bener take blows meant for him, Kysen released his hold. Isis backed up, sputtering and breathing hard, but her curses didn’t stop until Bener rounded on her.
“You shut your lips or I’ll beat you myself.”
Isis’s mouth snapped closed. She smoothed her hair back from her face while glowering at her brother. Kysen was wishing he’d thought to bring his chariot whip.
Bener faced him. “What has happened?”
“We found Satet, and Father went into the house alone to fetch her. But Eater of Souls was waiting.”
Neither of his sisters said anything. Eyes widening, Isis made a little sound that might have been a gasp.
Bener asked quickly, “Was Father hurt?”
“It was mere chance that the old woman warned him,” Kysen said, his gaze fixed on Isis with ka-shriveling contempt. “But it couldn’t have been chance that Eater of Souls knew where to find us. Isis has been seeing Reshep secretly, and I’ll bet my finest thoroughbred it was their plan to use Satet to lure Father there.”
“It was not!” Isis shouted.
Kysen stared at her. B
ener stared at her.
“It wasn’t,” Isis said again, less loudly. When neither sibling replied, she burst out again. “How was I to know the demon would be there? Reshep said he wanted to talk to Father, to convince him that our marriage would be a great alliance. We knew Father would never agree to see Reshep again. He’s so stubborn. But I knew that Father was interested in the old woman, and that if she vanished he would chase after her. It’s not my fault an evil demon followed him too. Is Reshep safe?”
Kysen shoved Bener out of the way and stuck his face close to Isis’s. “You stupid she-goat, Reshep was Eater of Souls. If we hadn’t killed him, he would have murdered Father.”
He watched color ebb from his sister’s face. Her great dark eyes stood out against the pale flesh. Her mouth half open, Isis shook her head.
“He’s been killing anyone who got in his way, anyone who caused him the slightest annoyance.” Kysen straightened and folded his arms over his chest, still burning Isis’s flesh with his stare. “He knew he was the favorite of the gods. He’d convinced himself of it. And because he believed it, he knew that the gods would send help to ease his way in the world. That help was Eater of Souls.”
“You’re crazed,” Isis whispered.
“You think I’d make up such a tale?” Kysen gave a snort of disgust. “Why would you find it difficult to believe that Reshep thought himself chosen by the gods when you believe the same thing about yourself?”
“Oh, Isis,” Bener said with a look of disbelief.
Her sister’s disapproval seemed to affect Isis as Kysen’s had not. She winced, and silent tears began to trickle down her cheeks.
“I only wanted to—”
“Have your own wish!” Kysen bellowed. “Without thinking of anyone else.” He poked Isis with a finger as he spoke. “And you almost got Father killed. Had he not been quick, had Abu and I not been there, Reshep would have bashed in his skull, slashed his throat, and carved out his heart!”
Isis gave a shriek and buried her head in her hands. Bener rolled her eyes and shook her head. Kysen watched Isis for a moment, then turned and marched out of the room. Bener came with him, and together they went out of the house to the kitchen building. He found a bottle of wine in a pantry room, and Bener brought cups and a loaf of bread. They took their food to the family garden. Sitting under an old acacia tree, they each downed a cup of wine before they spoke.
“All she had to do was see that the old woman got out of the house at a time when Reshep was waiting to follow,” Kysen said.
“Does Father suspect?” Bener asked.
“You should have seen him,” Kysen said. “We were looking at Reshep in his strange costume. He wore a preserved crocodile’s head, you know. And Father suddenly said Isis’s name in a voice so faint I barely heard it.”
Kysen shook his head slowly. “The first thing he thought of was how Reshep had been in this house, on his ship, near you and Isis, and then he realized…” He took a long drink of wine. “He actually shuddered. He closed his eyes so I wouldn’t see his pain, but he shuddered.”
“She didn’t know, Ky. She would never hurt Father on purpose.”
“No,” Kysen said. “And do you know why? Because to do something to someone deliberately, you have to be thinking of them. Isis seldom thinks of anyone but herself.”
“You’re angry. In a few days, when you’re calmer, you’ll see a different picture.”
“Why can’t she be sensible, like you?”
Bener sighed and poured herself more wine. “You and Father are always complaining about me, too. You’re not satisfied with either of us.”
“You have a good ka, Bener. Isis has an evil one.”
“Not evil, just one in need of strong guidance. But I think this disaster will force her to see something in her mirror besides her pretty face.”
“Her sight had better improve quickly, because Father will speak to her when he returns, and if she shrieks and whines and lashes at him with her tongue, I’m going to drop her down the kitchen well and seal it with a granite slab.”
Bener rose and offered a hand to help Kysen rise. “Your heart isn’t thinking clearly, my dear brother. If you want Isis to suffer, you should take away all her cosmetics, her mirrors, her perfume of Mendes and oil of lilies, and her jewels and robes.”
“You are a clever one,” Kysen said as he got up.
Bener punched him lightly on the shoulder. “I’ll pretend to console her in my chamber if you’ll seize her treasures.”
A nasty grin grew on Kysen’s face.
“Father will only confine her to her chamber. True repentance is attained through sacrifice.”
“Then we’re but helping Isis to sail on the route to divine order and rightness as a servant of Maat,” Bener said with great solemnity.
Kysen patted his sister’s arm. “True, and to help her keep on a righteous course, I’ll give all her trinkets to the women at Ese’s tavern.”
Meren walked in a circuit around Reshep’s body as he composed his report to pharaoh aloud. One of the younger charioteers sat on the floor with a sheet of papyrus stretched over his crossed legs and wrote down his words. Other men swarmed through the house, inspecting everything from the flour bins to the cheap senet game in the bedchamber.
As Meren spoke, he tried to ignore the way his chest ached with the dull, insistent pain with which he’d become too familiar. His youngest daughter had betrayed him. She hadn’t known how dangerous her betrayal was, but she hadn’t given much thought to anyone but herself.
He had stopped talking, and his men were looking at him. He resumed, pushing all thoughts of Isis out of his heart. Satet had been taken home where Nebamun the physician could care for her, and there was no sign of her sister Hunero or the husband. The house had been cleaned recently, probably by Satet on one of her secret excursions. Meren was furious with himself for not keeping a closer watch on her.
His negligence was a sign of how much confusion Eater of Souls had caused. Had he not been submerged in guilt over why Eater of Souls had attacked him, he would have pursued his inquiries with Satet more quickly. He would have to remember not to allow his personal sentiments to interfere with his duty to pharaoh and Maat.
“Thus ends the matter of the one called Eater—”
“Egyptian! Egyptian, who are you to send for me as if I was a miserable vassal?”
Labarnas roared into the kitchen with Abu, Reia, and several charioteers right behind him. The Hittite saw Meren first and headed for him, only to be halted by Reshep’s body blocking his path. Labarnas was in mid-roar, and his voice cracked. He stepped back and bumped into Abu, but didn’t seem to notice. Muttering something in his own language, he made a magical sign before scowling at Meren.
“Why have you dragged me to this place?”
“You said you wanted the one responsible for your prince’s death.” Meren nodded at Reshep. “This is the one.”
Labarnas looked down at the body, the crocodile mask. He walked around to the head, kicked the hippo hide that covered Reshep’s thigh, and grunted.
“I’ve seen this one.”
“On my ship, when Prince Mugallu visited,” Meren said as he walked over to join Labarnas. “Mugallu insulted him, and this man avenged himself.”
“Is this how you Egyptians settle a quarrel?” Labarnas planted his fists on his hips. His voice was as loud as a rock slide. “Hittite warriors with differences face each other and fight under the open sky of the storm god. Prince Mugallu was struck down by cowardice. I will tell my king, the Sun, how you allowed his intimate friend to be slaughtered like an ox.”
“Reshep killed many, for far less than the insults Prince Mugallu gave him.”
“After your pharaoh insulted the prince deliberately!”
Meren sighed, walked over to a chair that had been brought for his use, and sat down. “Labarnas, do you know how irritating you are?”
“Irritating? I’ll irritate you, you perfumed, soft-skinne
d lotus sniffer.”
Meren held up a hand. It was a gesture he used to command silence among his charioteers, and he’d employed it without thinking. Labarnas stopped his tirade, then looked annoyed at himself for doing so.
“Allow me to finish before you lose your temper. You irritate me, Hittite, because you make accusations without knowing what has occurred. You take offense against pharaoh and all Egyptians as though your only purpose in coming to Egypt was to provoke a war. And you accuse me of negligence regarding Prince Mugallu and imply that there’s some plot against your king.”
“Everyone knows that you Egyptians are born to deceit. You construct plots as easily as you construct great temples and palaces of gold and lapis lazuli.”
Meren leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Exactly.”
“Don’t smirk at me, you cursed Egyptian.” Labarnas frowned. “What do you mean, exactly?”
“Engage in a bit of reasoning, general. If I’m so versed in deceit and trickery, could I not have found a way to murder Prince Mugallu without placing myself or any Egyptian under suspicion?”
“No doubt you tried and failed.”
Rising, Meren shook his head and walked over to Labarnas. He swept his arm in the direction of Reshep’s body.
“The diplomacy of death, my dear general, requires subtlety, a delicacy of construction, and above all, simplicity of design.” Meren lowered his voice and said softly, “You can be assured that if I had wanted to kill Prince Mugallu, he, you, and your whole party would have been allowed to leave Egypt first. Then, once you were past the great border fortresses, well into the barren lands between them and the nearest city to the north, you would vanish. Quickly, in silence, as though a desert storm had swept you away into the vast emptiness of the frontier and buried you beneath a mountain of sand.”
Holding Labarnas’s gaze with his eyes, Meren paused with a slight smile. “Oh, I would search for you, send word to your king, invite him to send Hittite troops to search. All in vain. Until one day, on an expedition deep into the Sinai, your troops would find the remains of a battle, and nothing but ashes from flaming arrows, and bones dressed in Hittite armor.”
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