by Lauren Haney
He led them around a square column lying on the ground.
A workman was smoothing the stone face of the Lady of
Turquoise carved at the top. The goddess had the ears of a cow, as she did in her true form of the lady Hathor. “Our scribe serves as priest, making offerings to the Lady of
Turquoise. One of the miners, a wretched foreigner, makes offerings for his people. Rather than the lady Hathor, they think of our goddess as their own lady Ashtoreth.”
Passing through a doorway in a high wall, they walked into a court partly roofed to form a portico. An open doorway led into the sanctuary. Bak was surprised when Teti said they could look inside. In the land of Kemet, none but priests dared tread so close to the dwelling place of the deity.
The rockcut chamber was small and illuminated solely by the light falling through the doorway. Its walls had originally been smoothed as had the surface of the single pillar that supported the ceiling. Prayers for officials who had long ago led expeditions to the mountain of turquoise covered the walls. Many had faded or were flaking away. Recesses held sacred symbols of the goddess: a sistrum, a thick, beaded menat necklace, and a fist-sized chunk of turquoise. A squar ish altar supporting the enclosed shrine in which the statue of the Lady of Turquoise dwelt stood in one corner. Thick smoke, reeking of incense, drifted from the tops of several cone-shaped altars placed around the room.
Bak felt exceedingly uncomfortable. The paintings of ordi nary men, noble though they may have been, on the walls. The heavy scent of incense. The oddly shaped altars. The very fact that he stood so near the deity’s dwelling place. All seemed too much of a compromise with a world he did not know.
He swung away from the sanctuary and, motioning Teti to follow, hurried through the building, not stopping until he reached the open court with its bright sunshine and air free of the cloying scent.
Sitting on the edge of a stone libation tank, he asked,
“Where do you store the turquoise you mine?”
“In the goddess’s mansion, where the stones will be safe.”
Teti sat on a large block of sandstone, shaped for placement in a wall of Maatkare Hatshepsut’s new chamber. “We send them down the mountain each time the supply caravan re turns to the port.”
Bak nodded his understanding. The fewer the number of stones kept on the mountain, the less tempting they would be.
“Have you seen what you came to see?” Teti asked.
“I’ve seen everything and more. You’ve outdone yourself in showing us this place. I thank you.”
Teti failed to hide how pleased he was. “I resented your in trusion, I freely admit, but Ani and Nebenkemet made the day a pleasure.” He laughed. “I couldn’t resist the jeweler’s enthusiasm, and as for the other… I assume you saw him point out the direction he believed a vein to go.”
“Do you think his guess right?”
Teti gave him a sharp look. “He knows mines and mining,
Lieutenant. He never said?”
“He came across the Eastern Desert with Amonmose, who has a fishing camp on the sea. He claimed to be a carpenter, planning to build a fishing boat and huts in which the men will dwell.”
“What a waste. I’d wager a chunk of turquoise the size of a goose egg that he knows as much as I about taking minerals and stones from the depths of the earth.”
This man’s approval, Bak thought, was praise indeed. He vowed to speak with Nebenkemet, to press for the truth. “Tell me of Minnakht’s visit. What was his mission when he came?”
A harsh yell drew Teti’s eyes to the wall and the prisoners building Maatkare Hatshepsut’s new chamber. The ramp was finished and they were pulling, with difficulty, the heavily laden sledge up the slope. “He wished to learn about the way we mine turquoise. I answered his questions and he had more. I finally sent him to a man from Retenu, one with many more years’ experience than I.”
“Did that miner by chance return this year? I’d like to speak with him.”
“He bade me goodbye when he left, saying he’d never come back-and he didn’t.” Teti spotted a waterbag someone had left on the wall and went to get it. “This new season has barely begun and I miss him already. He could accomplish twice in a day what these younger men barely manage to do in two days’ time.”
“Do you have any idea what he told Minnakht?”
“We were closing down the mines, so I hadn’t much time to speak with him before he departed.” Teti took a deep drink and handed the waterbag to Bak. “According to what he told me, I made a wise choice in sending Minnakht to him.
Through the years, he’d dug in the earth for minerals as well as stones at many different sites. From what he said, Min nakht questioned him about the mining at each of them.”
Bak sipped from the bag, thinking of the man rumored to have found gold, the man who denied that he had. “Tell me of
Minnakht’s appearance.”
“You’ve never met him?”
“His father asked me to find him long after he vanished.”
“Let me think.” Teti took the waterbag, plugged it, and laid it on the stone beside him. “He was tall and slender, his face and body as well formed as the statue of a god. He walked stiff and straight and he had a way of raising his chin as if he thought himself better than any other man. I believe that the pride he took in himself, not a display of superiority.”
The description was similar to others Bak had heard but unadulterated by admiration. “He had no marks on his body?
No special way of talking?”
Teti shook his head. “Other than his good humor and a readiness to speak of his adventures, I can think of nothing more.”
Later, as they trod an easy trail across the top of the plateau to the place where they would descend the mountain, Bak had the leisure to think of all he had learned. He was a long way from discovering the truth, he knew, but at last he felt as if a ray of light had penetrated the darkness within his heart.
Chapter 16
“I see why you wished to descend before dark.” Bak stood at the top of what looked to be a high and steeply stepped wa terfall-except he doubted any water had flowed down for many generations.
Sergeant Suemnut eyed the ragged line of men standing on the narrow trail behind them. “I pray to the lord Sopdu that none who came with you has a fear of high places.”
Bak followed his glance. His Medjays, who carried their weapons and waterbags, led the procession. Next came four soldiers, two armed with spears and shields and each of the other two carrying a leather bag of turquoise. After them came User and his party. Standing between a steep red slope on one side and the rough face of a low cliff on the other, they could see nothing from their vantage point except the gap where the path dropped away. Farther back, the soldiers who had delivered the supplies to the mines straggled across the plateau, walking easily, carrying yokes from which nothing was suspended. The remaining soldiers, having no prisoners to guard, mingled with their fellows, no longer fearful of raiders. Suemnut had explained that past experience had proven the supplies to be of more value to plundering no mads than the turquoise.
Bak looked again into the deep wadi down whose side they must climb. The dry waterfall seemed to fall away forever. An elongated black peak rose on the far side. Because of the complicated folds of land, he could not see the bottom, but he suspected for the sake of the fearful among them that ignorance was preferable to knowing what lay ahead. The climb down would be long and difficult.
“Should one of them be afraid, could he not return to the lower camp by way of the path we ascended this morning?”
“This late in the day, the shadows hide details on that side of the mountain. It’s easy to get lost or take a wrong step.
He’d have to stay overnight with the miners and come down tomorrow.”
“I’ll talk to them.” Bak walked back and gathered the men around him. He described the path and the alternative of re maining on the mountaintop. “I suggest you
stand with
Sergeant Suemnut and look down. If you think you can’t de scend, tell us. A soldier will take you back across the plateau to the mines.”
Standing close by, he watched the men as one after an other peered over the edge. None of the Medjays were trou bled by what they saw, nor were User, Amonmose, or
Nebenkemet.
Ani looked down, sucked in his breath, and took a quick step back. He offered Bak and the sergeant a timid smile and hesitantly stepped closer to the edge to look down a second time. “I’m terrified, but I can do it.” He glanced back at
Psuro, added, “If you’ll help me, Sergeant.”
The Medjay studied the small plump man, weighing fear versus determination. At last he nodded. “I’ll stay with you.”
Wensu moved closer and looked down. His face paled, but he remained at the drop-off, staring at the steep incline. “I, too, am afraid and may need help.”
Such an admission from such a headstrong young man was astonishing. With a hint of a smile, Nebre volunteered his aid.
“Once you start down, you must go all the way,” Bak re minded them. “There’ll be no turning back.”
The two men, so different from each other, spoke as one:
“I’ll climb down this way.”
At a point Suemnut said was about halfway down the trail, they stopped to rest on a flattish and relatively wide ledge overlooking a short, steep ravine-like drop in the dry water fall. On the opposite side of the ravine, miners had, many generations earlier, etched reliefs on the dark surfaces of huge smooth-faced boulders. Immediately above the ravine,
Psuro had had to help Ani down a particularly difficult sec tion of trail where the stone had crumbled, leaving the natu ral rock steps loose and treacherous. Sweat poured from the jeweler and his face was fiery. The descent had thus far been difficult, but his fear had to have made it many times harder.
He dropped onto the ground, wiped his face, and gave Bak a haggard smile. “My knees are shaking. But so far I’ve man aged to hang on to this.” He patted the bulging square of linen hanging from his belt. It held the turquoise Teti had given him.
Psuro handed him a waterbag. “You’ve done well, sir.
When I saw that narrow stretch of trail where the rock along side projected outward, I feared for you. Looking toward the rock as you did instead of facing the slope was wise.”
“I was so afraid, I feared I’d lose my midday meal.”
The sergeant clapped him on the back and laughed.
“Bread and beer. No great loss, I’d say.”
Bak smiled at the two of them. Psuro was not one to easily call a man “sir.” He had come to respect the jeweler. Bak felt the same. Ani had never been high on his list of suspects, but the more he saw of him, the more convinced he was that he would not, could not, slay a man. This journey up the moun tain of turquoise had proven he had immense inner strength and tenacity, but was lacking in physical strength and had no ease of movement in the natural world. With sufficient will, he might be able to bury a dagger in a man’s breast or back, but he could never slip away unseen from a campsite where men were sleeping all around.
Wensu flopped down beside Ani and, with a grateful smile, accepted the waterbag with shaking hands. Where the jeweler was flushed, the younger man’s face was pale and drawn. “My father will never believe me when I tell him of this trail.”
Nebre laughed. “Send him to me. I’ll tell him how often you’ve shaken off my hand, spurning aid.”
User and Amonmose, sweating profusely but undaunted, continued a good-natured argument they had begun halfway down the dry waterfall. The explorer claimed a bird soaring overhead was an eagle. The trader swore it was a vulture. As it was hardly more than a black speck, Bak suspected they were arguing simply for argument’s sake. Nebenkemet, no more troubled by the descent than they, sat with the soldiers carrying the turquoise. They were flipping a small flat stone they had dug out of the bag and were betting on which side would turn up when it fell.
Suemnut studied the sun and the shadows, which were growing longer and deeper. Bak could see he wanted to move on but, evidently believing Wensu and Ani needed more time, he let them rest. He ordered one of his men to take charge of the soldiers straggling down the trail and signaled all but four to pass them by and go on ahead.
Suemnut paced back and forth along the ledge, waiting for the two weaker men to regain their strength. Gradually, some of the flush faded from Ani’s face and Wensu’s color re turned. Very much aware of how anxious their guide was to get off the mountain before darkness fell, Bak stood up and suggested they leave. The sergeant flashed him a grateful smile.
The men responsible for the turquoise reluctantly quit their game and hefted the bags of precious stones. Their guards and the Medjays scrambled to their feet and took up their weapons. The men in User’s party hauled themselves off the ground. Suemnut, in his haste to be on his way, strode down the steep slope at the lower end of the ledge.
Bak, several paces behind, started down the slope. A sharp crack stopped him short. He glanced around, not sure what had made the sound. Seeing nothing, he walked on. Perhaps a rock had rolled off a ledge and shattered. Or could stone burst apart when exposed to too much heat and suddenly chilled by shade?
Another sharp report, this so close that small shards of broken stone erupted from the rock beside him. He ducked and looked around. A movement on the hillside high and to his right caught his eye. A man on the opposite side of the ravine. One who looked to be tall and slender. Too far away to see well and standing with his back to the sun, Bak could not discern his features. From his stance, from the way he pulled his arm back and flung it forward, Bak guessed his weapon.
“Get down!” he yelled, throwing himself sideways. “I see a man using a sling!”
A stone struck him hard on the right thigh, dropping him onto the rocks beside the path. Cursing mightily, he scram bled into the inadequate shelter of a broken boulder. Suem nut crouched low and slid down the slope to a bulge in the hillside. Psuro, Nebre, and Kaha hustled everyone else to the base of the trail down which they had come. Huddled against the hillside in a corner of sorts, the man with the sling could not see them.
Bak glanced at his thigh. Except for a slight redness, he saw no sign of the impact, but a hint of soreness promised an impressive bruise. He had no illusions about the power of a sling in the hands of an expert, and he thanked the lord Amon for his good fortune. Men were trained in the army to kill with the weapon and could strike a man’s head with prac ticed ease and deadly force. He had heard that the desert no mads used slings to slay gazelle and ibex and to take the lives of one another in tribal disputes.
The man with the sling heaved another rock. It skidded across the top of the boulder behind which Bak lay, sending bits of stone flying around him. Suemnut yelled at the sol diers he had sent on ahead, ordering them back. His voice echoed through the wadis, the words lost in repetition. In the unlikely event that his troops heard, Bak doubted they would understand the summons.
The man flung another rock, silencing the sergeant. Psuro leaped out into the open and fired off an arrow. The angle was not good, and the missile fell short. The man stood his ground and may even have laughed, reminding Bak of the man he and Nebre had followed deep into the foothills of the red mountain.
Snarling an oath, Psuro ducked away. He spoke a few words to Nebre and Kaha. The former seated an arrow and raised his bow, ready to leap out into the open.
Favoring his thigh, which was beginning to throb, Bak made motions as if to leave his shelter. If he could draw the man’s attention…
“Stay there, sir!” Psuro yelled.
The man sent another rock flying. With an angry crack, it slammed into the boulder near Bak’s head. At the same time,
Nebre stepped out, the look on his face venomous. He raised his bow in a careful and deliberate fashion and fired off an ar row. It struck the man in the left side, but flew on past. A glancing blow a
t best. The Medjay snapped out an oath and seated another missile.
The man touched his side, raised his hand to look at his fingers and what had to be blood, and slung a rock at Nebre.
The stone grazed the Medjay’s arm, causing him to fumble the arrow. Kaha stepped out to aid his fellow policeman. The man swung around and began to run. Kaha’s arrow flew high, missing its target. Nebre’s missile struck the boulder behind which the man vanished.
The Medjays grabbed their quivers and a waterbag, ran to ward the stepped waterfall above the ravine, and scrambled across a slope of loose rocks on the opposite side, following the man who had ambushed them. The two guards raced after them. Bak leaped up from his shelter, grabbed a spear, and followed.
“No!” Suemnut yelled. “You can’t go after him. It’s too near nightfall and you don’t know the mountain.”
Bak slowed his pace, torn between common sense and a desire to snare the attacker.
“Come back!” Suemnut yelled.
Snapping out a curse, much against his wishes, Bak or dered the men back. Though he had not had a good look at the man with the sling, his basic physical appearance was too familiar to ignore. He had to be the watching man. The man who had, less than two weeks earlier, tried to entice him and
Nebre into an ever more confusing landscape, where they might well have become lost, where they could easily have died from lack of food and water.
Bak plodded down the trail behind Suemnut, seething with fury. The man he sought had an uncanny ability to choose a place and time that would give him the advantage.
Bak had vowed to snare him, and he knew he would, but when and how?
The path was no longer as difficult as it had been, but each step he took jolted the bruise on his thigh, making it ache with the intensity of an open wound. A dark lump had formed and was beginning to extend downward, blood spreading below the skin from the injury. To make matters worse, the day had been long and he was tired and hungry.