by Lauren Haney
Psuro glanced out through the mouth of the gorge toward the dry waterfall and the rocky steps on which the men as signed to guard duty often sat. “Someone must relieve Min mose.” His gaze traveled from one man to the next and settled on the slender Medjay seated beside him. “You slept through the night, Kaha, unlike those of us troubled by the donkeys.”
Kaha sighed dramatically. “I thought for a while that I was blessed by the gods. Now I see they favored me through the night to deprive me of the opportunity of slaying a few birds.”
The sergeant rolled his eyes in mock despair. “Leave your spear behind and take a bow and quiver. The lord Inheret might by chance send the grouse flying your way.” Inheret was the god of war and hunting.
With a quick smile, Kaha rose to his feet, scooped up a chunk of bread and a couple of dried fish, and strode to the weapons leaning against the cliff wall.
While the Medjay selected a bow, Bak looked across the pools toward the dry waterfall. The morning was cool, the sun pleasant rather than fiery hot. Why was Minmose not seated on the rocky step at the top the men on guard duty pre ferred? His thoughts returned to the donkeys’ behavior, and concern entered his heart. He picked up a spear and shield and walked with Kaha out of the gorge.
The Medjay scowled at the place where his fellow police man should be. “If Minmose saw or heard anything, sir, he’d have raised an alarm.”
“If he could have, he would’ve.”
Grim-faced, the two men picked up their pace, passing the pools with long, fast strides. They stopped at the bottom of the dry waterfall to study the slopes to either side. Minmose was nowhere to be seen. Exchanging a worried look, they raced up the natural stairway. At the top, a desert lark burst out from among the rocks, calling an alarm, and fluttered up the rocky hillside to their right. Other than the bird, they saw no living creature in the wadi beyond.
Their eyes were drawn to a good-sized patch of disturbed sand that would have been immediately behind a man seated on the top step facing the pools. A shallow hollow in the sand had smudged the vague footprints Bak, his pursuer, and the
Medjays had left the previous day. Traveling in an upstream direction from the hollow was a depression about a cubit wide, cut by two narrow indentations. The wider was the path of a man’s body, the narrow were the marks of his heels dragged along behind.
Praying to the gods that Minmose was unhurt, Bak trotted up the wadi, following the depression, with Kaha at his side.
As they neared the rock formation behind which Imset had vanished the previous day, Bak heard-or thought he heard-a low moan. Kaha sucked in his breath. He had also heard the sound. They broke into a run. Behind the forma tion, they found Minmose trying to sit up, holding the back of his head. Muttering a quick prayer of thanks to the lord
Amon, Bak knelt beside him, while Kaha helped him to rise.
The usually cheerful young Medjay pulled his hand away from his hair and stared perplexed at the rusty red stain on his fingers. “What happened?”
Bak parted the hair, which was matted together with dried blood, and looked at the wound. When he touched the bump,
Minmose flinched. The small break in the skin had bled a considerable amount, but was entirely scabbed over. Bak’s knowledge of head wounds was limited to the few times when his father, a physician, had taken him along when he dealt with such injuries. He had been a mere boy, easily dis tracted, and had not learned as much as his parent would have liked, but he doubted Minmose was badly hurt.
“What can you remember?” he asked.
“I was sitting at the top of the dry waterfall. The moon was high and I was watching a herd of gazelles, seven or eight of them, drinking from the pools.” Minmose wrinkled his brow as if trying to squeeze out what had happened. “I’m sorry, sir, but that’s all I remember.”
While Bak reassured him, Kaha studied the sand up stream. “Whoever did this walked the same path we did yes terday. The sand is too churned up to leave distinctive prints.
I’d wager this weapon…” He touched the bow lying beside him on the sand. “… that he climbed down a hillside close by to leave as small a sign of himself as possible before creeping up behind Minmose.”
Bak’s thoughts leaped backward to the night and to his broken hours of sleep. “And I’d wager that he struck Min mose so he could enter the gorge unseen.” He took up his weapon and walked around the rock formation so he could look downstream. “Stay where you are, Minmose. I’ll send someone to you.” To Kaha, he said, “We must examine the floor of the gorge before the donkeys and men trample any sign he might’ve left.”
“Here you are!” User hurried to the mouth of the gorge to meet Bak and Kaha. “We must get into position before the finches fly in. If we frighten them off, I doubt the grouse will come.”
Signaling the explorer to come with him, Bak called out to
Psuro. The sergeant stood with Senna, Nebre, and Rona, se lecting weapons for the hunt. User had set up a few snares, but the Medjays, proficient archers that they were, preferred the bow.
“Minmose was struck on the head in the night.” Bak quickly explained that the young Medjay was not seriously hurt, told Rona to bring him back to camp, and, paying no heed to the Medjay’s disappointment that he would miss the hunt, explained where the injured man could be found. To
User, he said, “I fear the one who attacked him slipped in among us while we slept.”
“The grouse…” The explorer clearly wanted to go on with the hunt, but was not sure they should.
“Gather together your hunters and go,” Bak said. “Kaha and I will search this camp while you’re away.”
Psuro and Nebre offered to remain behind, but Bak shook his head. “If we’re to have enough grouse for every man in this caravan to get more than a bite, you’ll have to join the hunt. I doubt if anyone else can use the bow to as good effect.”
“I’ll help you, sir,” Senna offered.
Bak shook his head. “The two of us will suffice. The fewer men in the gorge, the more likely we are to find some sign of the intruder.”
User summoned the men traveling with him, who had been standing around his campsite, and strode toward the mouth of the gorge. A drover armed with a bow and quiver and carrying a basket in which to gather up the slain grouse accompanied them. Ani and Nebenkemet took no weapons with them and made no pretense of hunting. They wanted to see the vast numbers of birds Bak had described. Wensu car ried a bow, but Bak suspected the other hunters were in more danger from his arrows than were the grouse. He did not know what to think of Amonmose’s skill as an archer. Since the journey had begun, the man had continually surprised him with his abilities and talents, his endurance.
As the hunting party hurried toward the pools, Bak said to
Rona, “If you think Minmose well enough to remain alone for a time, you must join the hunt.”
Rona flashed a smile of thanks and followed the men trail ing behind User. The explorer and his party scrambled up the slopes to either side of the pool where the birds drank. Rona hurried on to climb the dry waterfall.
Bak watched the men settling down among the rocks.
Dedu, he noticed, was not among them.
Bak and Kaha thoroughly searched their campsite. Find ing nothing of note, they walked the short distance down the gorge to User’s camp. The remaining drover, who had cho sen not to participate in the hunt, had separated five donkeys from the rest and was spreading a greenish unguent over galls caused by poorly balanced loads. He understood few words of the tongue of Kemet, but Kaha, in his slow and halt ing manner, made him understand that Minmose had been struck down and an intruder had entered the camp.
“Like us, he and the other drover looked for a snake during the night,” Kaha told Bak.
“Ask him where Dedu is.”
Bak could tell from the troubled look on the nomad’s face that he had no answer, and so Kaha reported. The man turned back to the donkey he had been tending. Speaking through
“Does he believe Dedu has merely gone off somewhere, soon to return?” Bak asked. “Or does he fear he was lured away by someone he knew or by the stranger? What does he think happened in the night?”
The more questions Kaha asked, the more agitated the no mad became. Bak recalled User saying the drovers were
Dedu’s kin. Telling himself he was worrying needlessly and had upset the man for no good reason, he allowed him to fin ish with the donkeys while he and Kaha searched Dedu’s meager possessions, abandoned where he had left them. As far as they could tell, the guide had left all his personal ef fects behind. They offered no clue as to where he might have gone, but hinted at a hasty or unexpected departure.
The drover, when shown the missing man’s razor, medical kit, and cooking pot, shook his head over and over again, denying what his eyes told him might well be true. Dedu had walked away from the camp in the night. Maybe not of his own volition.
“Sir!” Kaha called.
Bak hurried to the Medjay’s side. “You’ve found some thing.”
“This footprint, sir.” Kaha, kneeling close to the base of the cliff, pointed to an impression in the fine sand. “It’s like the one I saw on the hillside north of Kaine.”
Bak stared at the print. “The watching man.”
“I’ll look for more, but if I’m to find any, all the gods in the ennead will have to smile upon us.” Kaha stood up and glanced around. “He walked this way, believing the donkeys would erase his tracks-for good reason.”
“He took a chance, coming this deep into the gorge.”
Putting himself in the intruder’s sandals, Bak doubted the man had returned the way he had come. He looked down the wadi toward the north, in the opposite direction from the pools. He could not see beyond the nearest bend, but he re membered the way the walls gradually spread apart, with broad expanses of sand carpeting the floor and rocky slopes rising to either side. He would have gone that way rather than double his risk of being spotted.
He left the Medjay to continue his search and moved on to the place where User and his party ate and slept. He searched through every bundle and basket, but came upon nothing un expected or suspicious. Kaha found no second print.
“Let’s walk down the wadi,” Bak said. “You’d best tell the drover. User will want to know where we’ve gone.”
“I’ll try to set him more at ease. We don’t know yet that
Dedu has met with some misfortune.”
Trying to sound soothing, Kaha stumbled through an ex planation of where they were going and why. The drover’s expression grew stubborn, his voice doggedly insistent. In the end, Kaha explained, “This man insists on coming with us.” He shot an annoyed look at the drover. “He wants to bring along a couple of donkeys. He fears one might be needed should we find Dedu injured. As for the other, User told him to collect green plants for the animals and dry brush for the fires on which to cook the grouse. He wishes to obey.”
Bak had thought to search the wadi unencumbered, but the drover was right. Dedu could as easily be injured as dead.
Also, if the many donkeys were allowed to graze around the pools, which they would have to do if other food was not gleaned, they would leave insufficient fresh grass for the no mad flocks that would come later.
“Let him come,” he said, nodding so the man would know he agreed. “As long as he keeps busy, doing what he’s been told to do and helping us search at the same time, he’ll not feel so helpless.”
They set out right away, planning to retrace the caravan’s path all the way to the large wadi up which men and ani mals-and Bak a few hours ahead of them-had traveled from the west. He had scant hope of tracking Dedu or the stranger, but they had to try. The caravan had followed the same path the nomads used when bringing their flocks to wa ter. The donkeys and the goats before them had churned up the sand, making it too soft to hold definite shapes. An ideal path for a man hoping to travel undetected.
“I’m very concerned about Dedu,” Bak said. He, Kaha, and the drover had returned to the campsite hot, tired, and discour aged. They had found no sign of the guide, nor had they seen any prints of the man who had passed among them in the night.
“It’s not like him to go away without a word.” Frowning,
User tore a leg from a bird browned to perfection. “At the very least, he’d tell the drovers where he meant to go.”
“He isn’t a large man, but neither is he small. No man could’ve carried him for any great distance. He had to have walked on his own two feet.”
“I’d guess he spotted the watching man and followed him.
He’ll probably show up in a day or two.”
Bak did not like the lack of conviction he heard in the ex plorer’s voice. “I don’t know where else we could look with out remaining here and searching the nearby wadis and mountains.”
“As much as I’d like to stay, we can’t. These pools are fragile, and we’ve too many donkeys to feed and water.” User took a bite from the bird’s leg, barely chewed the succulent flesh, and swallowed. “The nomads count on them to water their flocks, yet none have come since you arrived two days ago. Their animals will be needing a drink.”
For a man reputed to have no love for the nomads, User was very aware of their needs. Not only did he bring as trade items necessities unavailable in the desert, but he valued their water supply and the plants their animals needed to sur vive. Bak had to respect his decision. “I know you don’t trust
Senna-and I’m not sure I do-but with Dedu gone, we’ve no other man to guide us to the Eastern Sea.”
User scowled, unhappy with the thought. “On this side of the mountains, all the wadis drain into the sea. I’ve explored a few and heard men talk of others. If he tries to lead us down an untrodden path, I’ll know.”
“When I asked where we should travel from here, he spoke of two wells, one to the north and the other to the east, each about a day’s march away.” Bak took a sip of water from the metal bowl Nefertem had given him. The grouse looked and tasted like the food of the gods, but he had already eaten so much that not even the rich odor of well-cooked meat could tempt him. “He recommended we go east, water our animals, and travel from the well to the sea. Do you think his plan good?”
Amonmose, standing a few paces away, helping
Nebenkemet pack up the birds that had been cooked and set aside for the following day, abandoned his task to join them.
Lowering his bulk to the ground, he said, “The men who fish in my fleet know the coast well. They say there’s no fresh wa ter anywhere along this section of shoreline.”
“So I’ve been told.” User tore away a wing and nibbled the flesh from the bones. “We’d be better off traveling north. To morrow we’ll reach a gorge with pools, similar to this one, and I’ve heard of a well three days beyond. It’s near the sea, so they say.” He threw the tiny bones onto the embers dying within the makeshift hearth. “Dedu thought to travel that way and will expect us to. He’ll probably intercept us somewhere along the route.”
Bak prayed to the lord Amon that such would be the case.
“If I’m not mistaken, the well you mentioned is where my fishing camp is located,” Amonmose said. “We could go there, yes, but must we travel so far between sources of water?”
User stared at nothing, thinking. “I suppose we could go straight down the wadi from the pools. The nomads take that path and camp on the shore while they fish and dry their catch.” He focused on the trader and shook
his head. “No.
That’s a single night’s march, and we’d still have three nights’ march up a waterless coast.”
“My men have told me of those nomads.” Amonmose picked up a dried twig and prodded the embers, which flick ered to life each time the breeze touched them. “A couple of islands lie offshore, and around them the fish have a tendency to school. A few boats in my fleet usually toil in the area. If such is the case, we should be able to signal them. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to leave this vile desert, and that might be the way to do it.”
User glanced at Bak. “Well, Lieutenant? Do you agree?”
“We can’t abandon the donkeys on a coast barren of water, and I doubt the nomads can care for so many animals for long. If we find any nomads there.”
A short silence ensued, broken by Amonmose. “Our sov ereign’s ships sail those waters throughout the months when the mines are being worked on the far side of the Eastern Sea.
I could send a boat to intercept one of them. Ofttimes the decks of the cargo ships have empty space, and I’ve found their captains to be an obliging lot.”
“If we must wait more than a couple of days for transport, a few of us will have to return the donkeys to the pools for water.” User flung the last of the bones onto the fire. “To travel both ways will take two nights.”
“If ships arrive while you’re gone, they’ll wait,” Amon mose assured him.
Bak prayed to all the gods in the ennead that User’s knowl edge of the desert and the merchant’s confidence in his fel low men would prove to be accurate. He preferred not to die a slow and lingering death from thirst and hunger on the bar ren coast of the Eastern Sea.
The caravan left the pools and retraced its path to the main wadi, where it turned in a northeasterly direction. Ahead, the red mountain rose into the sky, catching small puffy clouds tinted orange by the sun dropping toward the horizon. Nebre and Rona met them not far beyond the intersection.
“We walked the heights paralleling the wadi all the way from the pools,” Nebre said. “If Dedu came this way, he took care to hide his footprints. We found no sign of him.”