Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 1 - Anubis Murders

by Gary Gygax

  It was the bard's turn to look sour, but he couldn't be sure that the remark had alluded to anything other than the breeze which he had harped up to drive the sloop north toward his home. A note of irritation crept into the strains, but he played and sang on.

  Despite the efforts which Aldriss put forth, a storm came up which would have demanded a major expenditure of supernatural power to suppress. The captain furled most of the sloop's sails and ran before it. The ship made safe harbor in Galicia, but they had to lie at anchor for three days before the stormy seas quieted sufficiently for them to set sail again. They had not, however, had to significantly alter their course. The following wind was stiff and would carry the sloop to Lyonnesse, making the lost days almost insignificant. Between the magick of the bard's spinning and good fortune, the five wayfarers would soon be in the port of Caer-Mabd. From that town, it was only a single day's ride to the capital, Camelough, the Behon explained.

  "You haven't spoken of the involvement of your gods in the terrible business," Tallesian mentioned as they came within hours of their destination.

  "Terrible business?"

  "These murders and the blackmail behind them," the druid said a trifle crossly.

  "Oh, now I comprehend your meaning," he responded in offhanded manner. "You see, I wasn't sure because of the erroneous assumption you made."

  "Just what do you mean, Inhetep?" the Behon interjected. "His comment sounded quite proper to me."

  "It might have, but that's due to your own incorrect assumption. If you must know, Anubis is the son of Osiris by Nepthys, once the wife of Set and sister to Isis, Lord Osiris' chief consort. Anubis is no more involved in these murders than you or I, and I question strongly the possibility of the dark-minded Set having any part, either—although he would not be above all this and would certainly love to discredit the Guide, bring Tep-tu-f down from his high place, but . . ."

  "But what, Magister?! Tep-tough? What is it you mean?"

  "That no entity of Tigypt—nor even one associated with the Near East—is involved here. That is most obvious. What magick or hekau do any such ones have in the frozen north? Your own isles? Stony Ys? So few honor them, even know of the gods of my land, that they have but minor force in such places. Yet it was you who spoke of the great magicks which masked these crimes. Anubis is the Lord of Jackals, but your Master of Jackals is naught but a trickster in that regard, of this I am positive," Inhetep added. "For now, I'll say no more on that subject. I must see all of the materials you have, study the clues."

  Tallesian was not ready to let the matter drop, and the fact that the wizard-priest denied any connection between Anubis and these murders and extortion did not clear the matter in his mind. In truth, the Behon looked skeptical as well. It was time to reveal some new information. "Do you know there are secret cults of a strange sort in the Teutonic lands? Brettony and Ys itself? There are undoubtedly such hidden shrines and devotees even in Camelough."

  "Doesn't every land have its fringe elements?" Inhetep countered. He was obviously becoming bored with this conversation.

  The ovate decided to add his weight to the discussion. "What my associate is driving at, Ma-gister, is that there are cults honoring your Egyptian deities, specifically a triad of them."

  Setne turned so quickly that he startled his two companions. He towered over them as would a king cobra readying an attack. "What's that you say?!"

  "A whole network of secret shrines have been discovered," the Behon supplied blandly. Then, in a voice heavy with meaning, the magus went on: "The three gods are none other than Set, Sobek, and the jackal-headed Anubis."

  "You should have told me that long before now," Setne said in a level tone. His face was expressionless, unreadable, but there was a distinct chill in his voice, a message reinforced by his posture. "Had I known that, I would have insisted we put in at Ys to investigate these so-called cults and interrogated any worshippers who could be found."

  Tallesian nodded. "We thought as much. That's exactly why we didn't mention it until we were about to dock in Caer-Mabd. You see, we are urgently needed in Camelough. There is no time for such side excursions as you would have insisted on."

  The tall /Egyptian sat back in his chair. The cabin seemed smaller and more cramped, as if the wizard-priest had swelled to fill it somehow. Both of the Kellts understood the effect. Inhetep was drawing energy from the others and directing his powers toward some focal point. There could be no question as to what he was concentrating on. His words affirmed that fact. "There is an hour or two before we actually drop anchor. Please tell me everything now, and don't withhold any facts this time. Otherwise . .." Setne allowed his sentence to end there. The meaning didn't require articulation.

  There was no hesitation. Both men rapidly told of the findings of multiple investigations into the secret shrines and the triune cult. Set was recognized immediately, even in the hinterlands, as the Egyptian lord of darkness and evil. Sobek, crocodile-headed friend of the dark one, was a natural accompaniment to the former. An-ubis, however, was a strange third. "Our sages say that the Lord of the Jackals has a dual nature," the Behon finally said. "Might not he actually be the son of Set? Isn't it possible for the nature of a deity to change, to manifest itself in ways not before known? Before the struggle between Osiris and Set, it is said that most of your people held the red-haired god as admirable and beneficial—at least to themselves."

  "Yes. Yes to both of your latter statements, that is. But no, the initial statement is incorrect. There is no question as to the parentage of An-ubis, and his place is the twilight of the shadowy world, the Duat, where Osiris rules as king, just as it is in the realms of light and of Pet, the high sphere, where Ra reigns supreme." Setne seemed grim as he went on. "Once Sobek was also one of more wholesome nature. It is possible for the greater entities to realign themselves, for they have will as free as our own. Perhaps it is no longer mistaken to consider Anubis as the offspring of the master of Evil, for if the jackal-headed one has allied with Set, then he has become the spiritual child of darkest iniquity."

  "I had thought you would approach this with such open-mindedness, Magister Inhetep," the Behon said with a note of compassion in his voice. "We are aware of your devotion to the ibis-headed Thoth. His relationship is that of Balance, though, is it not? We do that no harm when we condemn one of the Twilight Nature and Shadowy Darkness—the high standing of Anubis therein, his involvement ... It is no reflection on the deities of Egypt, Magister, but a sad commentary on but one of its number." The Behon looked into Setne's eyes. "It is up to you to discover just what machinations are afoot here. Then perhaps you can have your righteous gods intervene."

  "Perhaps, perhaps," Inhetep murmured. "First, we will go to Camelough. There I will examine all of the bits of evidence you have, just as was promised me. Then I will decide what other steps to take. Death is not evil, not in the natural scheme of things. Evil does not necessarily bring death—or even use its fell and bony hand. Life is often more malicious than its cessation. There is much to learn, many things which must be analyzed and understood, before it will be possible to draw meaningful conclusions."

  "One conclusion of a meaningful sort is at hand," the voice of Aldriss caroled. "We are about to drop anchor in the fair harbor of Caer-Mabd!"

  All three turned and stared coldly at the bard. He hardly noticed because his spirits were so high. The Avillonian bards were truly only at home in their own isles, and clearly Aldriss was much affected by the sight of his native land. "Lady Rachelle is busily gathering your gear, Magister Inhetep. I'm off to do the same with my own now. Tallesian, Behon, aren't you going to pack up for immediate disembarkation?"

  It was practical advice. The wizard-priest excused himself to see if there was anything he needed to do to assist the girl, and the three men of Lyonnesse likewise attended to gathering up their few possessions. Caer-Mabd was a thriving town of almost a hundred thousand people, the largest port in the country and second largest populati
on center after the capital. Camelough lay a little over forty miles distant—a day's hard ride by horseback, and two days walk or travel by cart or wagon, though the fast coaches made it in one day because their teams went almost as swiftly as a single man on horseback.

  Only a few minutes after the anchors had been dropped, the party was quickly whisked to shore and away from the port in a fast-moving coach.

  "It is too bad," Rachelle remarked to her mentor. "I would like to see a little of Caer-Mabd, and I know you are always curious about strange cities. Is this matter so pressing that we couldn't spend even an hour or two? Some of the shops I glimpsed displayed very interesting wares."

  He turned and stared at her, his hawk-like nose raised for a moment as if pointing at the girl. She looked only slightly haggard from the voyage—a surprising thing for one so poor a seafarer. "I can thank the bard for that," he said. Rachelle gave him a puzzled look. "I am merely noting how well you managed the long days aboard the ship on our journey here. Aldriss worked minor miracles . . . but that is not a response to your query. The Behon is our employer, in a manner of speaking. He desires our immediate presence in Camelough, so we go hence to that place. I, too, would normally enjoy a day or two seeing sights. Perhaps on our return. Would you like that?"

  "Very much." She smiled. "Perhaps we can find a native to guide us."

  "Have you anybody special in mind?"

  Rachelle smiled again. "Let's wait until the prospect is actual," she sweetly told her hawk-faced associate. Then she turned and looked out the window as the coach bounced along toward the royal seat of the great kingdom of Lyonnesse.

  The Behon and Tallesian were silent and tense. It was evident that the nearer they came to Camelough the more worried they became. Even the bard was nearly silent, only occasionally humming under his breath as he stared into nothingness or gazed out at the scenery rolling by. These three were definitely part of the affair, and the one calling himself the Master of Jackals meant to exact his demands in the city for which they were heading.

  Jackals are basically nothing but moderately clever animals, Inhetep thought. Cunning, perhaps smarter than a typical dog or wolf, but never close to a human. The information garnered from witnesses in Ys, however, seemed to point to jackals—far bigger specimens, creatures the size of enormous wolves, which behaved with almost human intelligence. Then there were the supposed sea-jackals. Why all that showy business? After all, in the end it simply came down to a flawed summoning of the air elemental, so that instead a demon came and slew the so-styled Haut Omniurge.

  Frontonac had actually gone to Egypt once. Setne recalled meeting him in Innu. That was thirty years ago now. More. The priest-mage had then been but a fledging practitioner, studying the laws of dweomercraefting. The Bretton had been a respected, if dark, invocator even then, and the half-dozen candidates studying to become kheri-heb had been brought out to hear him speak on the subject of the Pandemonium and the command of negative heka. It was a great demon, indeed, that could kill the master sorcerer Frontonac with such ease. Greater still the one who managed to cause it to come rather than a prince of aerial nature! Skandia, the hyperborean lands, the Hansa masters, Livestonia, Ys, and now Lyonnesse. Save for the realm of Norge and empty Lappia, its path might appear to be a circle drawn round a point—Brabant, Flanders, Albion, or further north . . . ?

  "You seem most thoughtful, my lord," Rachelle whispered to Setne. "Is there something I should know? May I assist in any way?"

  That sounded more like his faithful assistant, and the Egyptian smiled a little. It was more in mockery of himself than for any other reason. "I analyze even my own thoughts, Rachelle," he said quietly. "But I am pondering this entire matter now, for soon enough we'll be up to our necks in it. There is more to learn. Tomorrow morning, early, when we are fresh and rested."

  "Now?"

  "You have been trained, seen much, and what is known about the Master of Jackals and his murderous ways you have heard as I did. Please mull over the whole business. Look for anything unique, anything unusual taken in context of the whole bizarre nature of it, and search for some inconsistency. Before retiring, you and I will meet privately and compare our notes."

  Her face was stony as she replied, "Of course.

  And thank you, Setne, for your confidence in me.

  "You're welcome—but I always rely on you, Rachelle," the wizard-priest added.

  The girl shook her head a little, making her dark ringlets bounce even more in the rattling carriage. "No. You include me as a sounding board, a bodyguard, a useful agent at times. This is actually the first time you have asked me to think and share my opinions on an abstract level."

  "Bless me, Rachelle," Inhetep murmured, looking away and then back at her as he thought about what she had just said. "You are right! It must be that this is the first time we have actually had so much time to consider information before having to take action."

  "Really? Well, shaved-pate, as you are the one renowned for your thinking capacity, it must be as you say. Now, I had better cogitate, if you don't mind."

  "Remarkable," Inhetep said before turning away. "My amazonian warrior plays with words as she does weapons. Such fine puns she displays! I believe that now either I am in for trouble, or else the Master of Jackals is doomed. . . ."

  "Both," Rachelle whispered.

  JACKAL'S MIND

  "Why aren't we housed in the castle?" Rachelle asked petulantly. "Is it because we're foreigners?"

  "It's because I specifically requested rooms in a quiet place," Setne explained firmly. "Anyone in the royal castle is under constant scrutiny. We need privacy and freedom from observation."

  "Oh, but it seems so dreary here, and there's no opportunity to ... to ... You know what I mean!"

  Inhetep was tempted to smile, but he decided not to anger her. "Rachelle, we will have ample opportunity to socialize with the court nobility after the problem of this murderous 'Master of Jackals' is solved. Let's put our minds to that."

  "I'm sorry, Setne. I guess I am still a foolish little girl at times," Rachelle said with sincerity. "Of course you're right, and we need to be as unobtrusive as possible. This small inn is perfect in that regard. What is it you'd like me to do?"

  There was the Rachelle he was used to! Setne began to outline the case as he saw it up to then, asking the girl to follow his own analysis point by point with her own. They agreed on the major features. The one masterminding the extortions and murders was certainly very powerful.

  The targets were the great rulers. No victim could be revivified, and that meant a great deal of magick was used in the killings. From what they knew, no duplicate means of murder had been used. The demon in Ys differed from the other "weapons" as markedly as each instrument of death employed previously. The murder had been expected, yet it occurred despite all precautions. Once accomplished, the victim was always beyond any means of magickal restoration to life. Thereafter, the surviving individuals concerned had evidently complied with the demands of the killer or killers and paid over the ransom, tribute, blackmail—whatever the extorted payments might be called.

  "We need to know exactly what was demanded from each victim," Rachelle said.

  "That's just about impossible," Inhetep replied. "If these folk would agree to speak of the matter at all, most would certainly refuse details such as that. State secrecy, loss of face, and fear that the assassin or organization calling himself or itself the 'Master of Jackals' would take reprisals—all mitigate against our gaining such information."

  "The power involved in each murder is also unknown."

  "Not entirely, Rachelle. We know that there were aural readings in two cases, at the Acade-mie Sorcerie d'Ys, and the report from Gothenburg in Svergie seems reliable, too. In the first certainly, and the second probably, we have unquestioned Entital energy, heka of the most powerful sort."

  The girl frowned. "You said that Set, let alone the good and noble Anubis, are not the perpetrators of these crimes. N
ow you say that the highest magicks were used. Isn't that admitting you are wrong?"

  "It is always possible to err," the wizard-priest said without humor, "but all entital force doesn't spring from the pantheon of Egypt, let alone the Font of Wickedness or the righteous Lord Anubis. We face a killer able to summon great beings, or to actually draw heka from the greater planes. That doesn't contradict my assertion that the Master of Jackals has no connection to Anubis—or even to Set, save in evil-doing."

  She pondered that a moment, then nodded her understanding and agreement. "So we have virtually no information as to who is responsible, what the motive is, or how the murders are accomplished. And since there is no possibility of returning the victim to life, we can't learn the killer's identity. What do we go on?"

  "The connections between the crimes. There must be more than mere greed involved, I think. The pattern circles this area: northwestern Europa." Inhetep stood up and went to his leather trunk. He rummaged around, drew out a flat case, and from that extracted a large parchment which was folded into sixths. "See here," he said, showing Rachelle the beautifully inked map of the continent. "Here is where the first murder occurred—Gothenburg. There is Poh-jola, there below it lie Finmark, Kalevala, and the rest. Now south and west, and we come to Riga, capital of Livestonia, where we know another appearance of the Master of Jackals occurred. Next the cities of the Hansiatic League . . . here, here, and here." Setne pointed out the dots as his finger moved westward.

  "And there is the Bretton peninsula of Ys," Rachelle supplied. "There is a crescent-shaped pattern."

  The Egyptian's coppery skin shone in the vaguely iridescent rays of the witch-lamp as he pointed out a place. "Not quite, my dear girl. See here? There are a few gaps in the circle."

  "Circle? I see only a portion of a ring."

  "From Ys to Camelough, and there is only the place I pointed out already and the Kingdom of Caledonia."

  "Then the Master of Jackals will strike in . . ." Rachelle paused a moment to peer at the chart. ". . . Brabant, Flanders, or the northernmost of the Five Kingdoms of Avillon."