Face Turned Backward lb-2

by Lauren Haney

  “So Imsiba says.”

  “And Lieutenant Kay. The new officer who came from Semna. I know little of him yet, but he seems a moderate man: neither generous nor mean. One who makes no great demands on the girls and treats them with kindness.”

  Solid citizens one and all, as she had said. “Did you by chance hear what they talked about?”

  Nofery’s manner turned indignant. “You think I eavesdrop on everyone? Well, you err. I’m bound to admit, I listen now and again. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t. But I don’t hear every word.” She paused, added ruefully, “Anyway, they were playing in the alcove that opens off the main room. To hover close was impossible.”

  Bak pictured the alcove where he had so short a time ago seen the soldiers sleeping off their night of revelry. Six players would fit in comfort, more would make a crowd. “You said Mahu talked to every man who came into this place of business. Did he speak at length with anyone?”

  “No.” She gave him a long, thoughtful look. “He sat with his back against the side wall, where he could see all who came into the larger room. He called out to everyone, raising his voice to be heard. Only a few men came to the portal to watch the game. Spearmen and archers, three who smelt copper, a potter. Men he probably knew only by sight.”

  Men not likely to have the opportunity to smuggle in quantity, Bak thought, or the imagination to carry off so daring a deed. “Did he ever leave the alcove?”

  She stared at the lion, once more gnawing her sandal, but her thoughts were on the evening in question. “He stayed two hours. The other players moved around as it suited them, depending on their luck and the capacity of their bladders.

  But not Mahu. He never left that spot.”

  “Who did he talk with coming in and leaving?”

  “Only me. He asked for Benbu both times, and both times she was busy with other men.”

  Bak sat back on the bench, contented with what he had learned but puzzled as well. If Mahu had told Sitamon the exact truth, the person who had approached him about carrying illicit goods had to be someone in that alcove. Which 106 / Lauren Haney narrowed his field of suspects from all of Buhen to five.

  However, each and every one had a comfortable occupation and a position demanding respect. He could not imagine any of them smuggling anything more valuable across the frontier than a jar of date wine. They had too much to lose.

  Nofery’s eyes glittered. “You surely don’t believe…”

  The lion swung its head around to look at the rear door.

  Bak silenced the old woman with a warning glance. Amonaya came through the portal, carrying a basket of bread, two beer jars, and a deep bowl from which the heavy scent of roast goose wafted. He bowed his head, murmured, “I’ve brought a feast fit for a queen, mistress.”

  Nofery’s breast swelled with pleasure.

  Bak almost laughed aloud.

  While they ate, Bak told Nofery of the elephant tusk found on Mahu’s ship and described the captain’s death. He had learned long ago that if she was to help him to the best of her ability, he had to be frank with her. And though he would never admit it to her nor she to him, they counted each other as friends.

  Bringing his tale to an end, he asked, “Now, old woman, what can you tell me of Captain Roy?”

  “Not much.” She tossed a leg bone at the lion, who pounced on it with a low growl. “He was a taciturn man, one whose life was as small as the deck of his ship and whose words suffered from a lack of substance.”

  Bak eyed her over the remains of a plump breast. “Most men let slip a few words of value.”

  She snorted. “He talked always of his vessel, speaking as if it were a wife, one forever demanding attention. He talked of loading and unloading an infinite number of dreary objects at equally dreary ports. A more boring man I’ve never known.”

  “What of the members of his crew?”

  “I thought them no more entertaining than Roy.” She threw a segment of wing at the cat. “Like their master, they talked of the unending tasks they must perform to keep the ship afloat. At times I thought them schooled by him.”

  They probably were, Bak thought. “Did you ever hear rumors of Roy hauling illicit cargo?”

  “He was a man who went his own way, keeping his own counsel.” She gave him a sharp look. “All who live so close within themselves are suspect, as you well know.”

  Captain Roy was beginning to intrigue Bak. For a man who had sailed the waters of Wawat for a good many years, knowledge of him was meager. He was as much a shadow as the ship his crew had seen the night they loaded the illicit cargo. “We know of no previous venture into smuggling,” he admitted, “and the contraband he carried came as a complete surprise.”

  Nofery stopped chewing, her interest in the goose flagging.

  “You found many beautiful and exotic items, so they say.”

  He threw the breastbone at the lion and picked up a wet cloth Amonaya had brought so they could wipe the grease from their hands. He had to smile. While Nofery taught the boy the practicalities of running a house of pleasure on the frontier, the child seemed intent on teaching her a few regal niceties.

  He eyed the sun, climbing into a clean and bright morning sky, so blue it vied with lapis lazuli. Soon he must begin to stalk in earnest Mahu’s slayer and Intef’s, but an investment of time now could save many hours later. So he settled back to sate Nofery’s thirst for knowledge.

  Finished with his tale, he asked, “Do you know anything of the hunter Intef?”

  Nofery threw another segment of wing at the lion. As it leaped upward to catch the bones, the torn and chewed sandal lay fully exposed. Snarling an oath, she rushed from her seat, shoved the startled cat aside, and grabbed the ruined object. Holding it up, she shook it in front of the creature’s face. “My new pair of sandals! Spawn of Set! How could you do this?”

  “Nofery!” Bak crossed the court in five long strides, caught her by the arm, and dragged her back to her stool.

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  “Forget that accursed sandal, old woman, and tell me what you know of Intef.”

  “You saw him chewing it, didn’t you? And you didn’t say a word.”

  “Intef,” Bak said, towering over her, “a man hunted down in the desert like an animal and slain from behind with no warning.” He had no way of knowing if the picture he painted was true in every respect, but he suspected as much.

  Expelling a long, unhappy sigh, Nofery dropped onto the bench and laid the sandal beside her. “He was a good man, one who toiled day and night with no complaint.”

  “That much I’ve heard.”

  “He didn’t often come to my place of business. He had a family-a wife and children always in need-and he was seldom able to spare so much as a hare for a bowl of beer or a game of chance.”

  Bak swore. Intef had a wife. Another woman who had to be told she’d lost the man who sustained her. “Where did he live, old woman?”

  “In the oasis across the river. He had a plot of land, he once told me. While he hunted, his wife tended the fields.”

  Sitting on the stool Nofery had abandoned, Bak described the alabaster jar he had found and the jewelry inside, going into such detail that she forgot the food in her hand. “The bracelets are old, very old. From the way they were made and the design, I believe they were brought to Wawat long ago, probably by an official serving the great sovereign Kheperkare Senwosret or one of his successors.”

  “When Buhen was new,” she added, “its walls as yet untouched by time.”

  “Yes.” He took a sip of beer, savored it. “Did he ever mention finding an old tomb? Or have you heard tales of him or anyone else trying to sell ancient jewelry in the market?”

  “If he found anything of value, he’d have kept it to himself.

  As for the market: only the most witless of men would think Buhen the place to sell goods plundered from a tomb.

  The return would be too small, and you’d be there before the bargain was
struck.”

  “Greed sometimes warps the judgment.”

  She slipped her foot out of the undamaged sandal, stood up, and tossed it to the lion, who caught his new plaything before it hit the floor. “In the dozen years I’ve lived in Buhen, I’ve never known ancient jewelry to come to light. I thought all the old tombs long ago robbed of their valuables.” Taking his arm, aiming him toward the door, she bared her teeth in a sham smile. “Now take me to the market. I need a new pair of sandals, and you’re the man to get them for me. Then take me to wherever you’re keeping the bracelets. I wish to see them for myself.”

  “Sound the attack!” Lieutenant Kay ordered.

  The herald raised the trumpet to his lips; its bell flashed in the sun and the sharp command blared from its throat.

  The spearmen in Kay’s company, fifty men divided into two units, one facing the other, rushed forward across the dunes, breaking ranks as they ran. Reddish cowhide shields hiding all but leather-sheathed heads and sandaled feet racing behind a multitude of spears, their bronze points glinting. The two units clashed in what was the most dangerous game on the practice field, close combat. Soldiers shouted, spears clattered, maces thudded against leather armor. Scrabbling feet raised the dust in wraithlike veils, turning the air around the contestants a thin, sickly yellow.

  Bak stood with Kay, the herald, and the company sergeant atop a low knoll, watching the men practice the arts of war.

  Each time he observed an infantry unit toiling to improve its skills, he thanked the lord Amon for giving him the good sense to become a charioteer, his position in the army in days gone by.

  He had taken Nofery first to the guardhouse. While she looked upon the ancient jewelry with a covetous eye, he had dispatched a Medjay to the oasis across the river to search out Intef’s wife and tell her of the hunter’s death. Pleading 110 / Lauren Haney a full day, he had sent Hori to the market with Nofery with instructions to get her a new pair of sandals.

  “Stand at rest!” Kay ordered.

  The herald raised his trumpet to blast the air with a single long note. The seething mass stilled. The sergeant lopped down the knoll to inspect. The herald glanced at Kay, who motioned him away, and sauntered after the sergeant.

  “Now we can talk,” Kay said, his eyes locked on the dust-coated men below. “What I have to offer, I can’t imagine. I knew Mahu, yes, but you know how it is with traders: they come and they go. Friendships easily made, but with no depth.”

  Bak had thought long and hard about how much he should reveal: most of what he knew, he had decided, letting those he questioned reach their own conclusions. “Until a year or so ago, I’ve been told, Mahu sailed the waters above Semna.

  Did you know him while you were there?”

  “I did.” Kay tore his attention from his men, gave Bak a wry smile. “I was responsible for collecting tolls and conduct-ing inspections. A thankless task that is, I can tell you.”

  “No wonder you transferred to Buhen!”

  “This garrison suits me well enough,” Kay said with an indifferent shrug, “but I’d have preferred an assignment back home in Kemet.”

  Bak could understand if not sympathize. Desolate Buhen may be, but he had found it a place of friendship and reasonable comfort. “As an inspection officer at Semna, where a man can stand on the battlements and look south into the land of Kush, you must’ve dealt with smugglers on a daily basis.”

  “Every man who crosses the frontier has at least one item hidden away in some secret spot, thinking to avoid the toll.

  And who can lay blame? The garrisons along the Belly of Stones are undermanned. The desert patrols are small, the area vast.” Kay’s tone hardened. “Difficulties we owe solely to our sovereign, Maatkare Hatshepsut, whose very indifference is an affront.”

  His sudden anger was palpable, his outspoken attack on the queen spawned by the frustrations of a task not soon forgotten. He must have realized how he sounded, for he flushed. “I know, it’d be easier to hold back the floodwaters than to stop the flow of illicit goods.” He snorted, feigning indifference. “Anyway, what difference does it make? They’re all small items, objects of marginal worth. Certainly nothing the size or value of an elephant tusk.”

  Bak, not yet ready to speak of the tusk, ignored what he suspected was an invitation to do so. “Did your men ever find contraband on Mahu’s vessel?”

  “Never.” Kay glanced toward the harbor, much of it hidden from view by the high, towered wall. “He was an honest man, Lieutenant. In spite of what I said earlier, a few men cross the frontier with no intent to deceive. A very few. Mahu was one.”

  “When my men and I arrived to search his vessel, you were standing on the quay, talking with him. Can you remember what you spoke of?”

  Kay’s attention had wandered back to the practice field.

  Five men, the leaders of each ten-man unit, stood off to the side with the sergeant, reporting on the exercise, while the spearmen under their command struggled to their feet to stand at ease, nursing their bruises. “We talked of the abundance of trade goods flowing from far to the south. I teased him, I remember, saying he and his fellow merchants would soon be wealthy men.” His eyes darted to Bak and he gave a sardonic smile. “Not a word was uttered about smuggling, I assure you.”

  Bak let the jibe pass as if unnoticed. “The two of you-and others-played a game of chance at Nofery’s house of pleasure, I understand. The night before he sailed to Kor.”

  Kay gave him a long, speculative look. “You surely don’t believe an evening of modest pleasure would lead one man to take another’s life!”

  “One never knows what small detail might prove significant.” Bak spoke as if he had learned the lesson by rote.

  A hint of a smile fluttered across Kay’s lips. “We played, yes. How could I forget? I drank almost no beer and I wa-112 / Lauren Haney gered with care, yet I came out the loser by far.”

  “Who won the most?” Bak asked, not because he thought the winner mattered, but out of curiosity.

  Kay glanced toward the practice field, stiffened. “One of my men’s been injured.”

  The sergeant and a spearman knelt beside a man sitting on the sand, arms across his breast as if hugging himself.

  The leaders of ten hovered close, while the rest of the men stood off to the side in clusters, watching. The spearman clutched the injured man’s arm and helped him to his feet.

  He took a couple of unsteady paces, then they walked together toward the fortress gate.

  Obviously relieved, Kay signaled the sergeant to reform the men for another exercise. “Mahu was a good solid gambler. His bets were conservative and far from extravagant, but he won consistently.” The officer’s eyes narrowed. “His winnings were modest, certainly too small to die for, so why…?”

  “He claimed someone approached him that night, asking him to transport illicit cargo, holding out the promise of great wealth.” Bak spoke deliberately, watching the officer with care, searching for a sign of guilt or fear.

  Kay stood quite still, his face registering surprise, concern, incredulity. “Mahu let someone talk him into smuggling that tusk? I don’t believe it! He was too upright and honest a man to get himself embroiled in smuggling.”

  Bak was growing weary of so much fine testimony to Mahu’s character. “He swore he knew nothing of it, and I felt he told the truth. But he was approached during that game.”

  “By whom?”

  “I don’t know.” A pretense of knowledge would have been futile. If Bak had had a name, the man would already be sharing the guardhouse with Rennefer. “What do you remember of that night?”

  Kay described the evening much as Nofery had, adding,

  “As far as I know, several men who entered the building stopped by to watch the game, though none for long. Any of them could’ve spoken to Mahu with ill intent, but if so it wasn’t obvious.” Either he had failed to notice how restricted Mahu’s movements had been, or he chose not to see.

&nbs
p; Bak saw he could get nothing further, so he thanked Kay for his help and walked back to the north gate, his thoughts on what he had learned. Kay had been an inspection officer in the southernmost fortress in Wawat, a position that would have offered many opportunities to set up a smuggling operation. He knew how to use a bow and arrow-each and every soldier was trained to use the weapon-but could he slay with the skill of the one who slew Mahu? Or Intef?

  Which raised several crucial questions: Were the two deaths related, or were they isolated incidents? Because the weapons were similar and because Intef had hidden a piece of ivory with the ancient jewelry, he leaned toward the former, but for the life of him, he could see no more substantial connection between the two dead men.

  As for the jewelry, had Intef stumbled upon an ancient tomb and taken what he found there? Or were the bracelets-like the elephant tusk found on Mahu’s ship-meant to be smuggled north?

  Bak had no answers but prayed that soon they would come.

  Bak found Userhet in the entry hall of a grain warehouse across a side street from the building where Mahu’s slayer had vanished. The long, narrow room, illuminated by the open door and high windows along one side, was as bare of adornment as the storage rooms behind it. Bright shafts of light caught the dust and bits of chaff floating in the air.

  The heavy smell of grain caught in his throat, made his eyes itch and his nose tickle. Two scribes sat cross-legged on the floor, inured by time to the dense atmosphere.

  The overseer of warehouses was arguing with the stocky, hard-eyed quartermaster over the distribution of rations to the garrison troops. The latter individual, Bak gathered, had accused Userhet of closing his eyes to the fact that a couple 114 / Lauren Haney of his scribes sometimes pilfered small amounts of grain before turning the sacks over to the bakery.

  Userhet was livid. “Here’s Lieutenant Bak now,” he snapped. “If you wish to turn a wisp of air into a sandstorm, talk to him. We’ll soon see whether the commandant thinks a handful of grain worth his time.”