by Gary Gygax
He had taken a suite of rooms at the Golden Nylle. As its name suggested, the inn was on the bank of the river. It was very posh and attracted the trade of those on business with the government of the sepat, for it was only a long block from the offices of the district's government and the palace of Governor Prince Harphosh. Golden was appropriate too, in that the inn charged more for a night's stay than many men earned in a month. The magister didn't mind that so much as its location. He wanted now to be near the university district, the main avenues of Innu's activity. The Golden Nylle was as far from that as any place he might have found in the city, and now he had a long walk ahead of him. Perhaps he might have hired a sedan chair or even a chariolet, but such a conveyance seemed distasteful to him unless time demanded speedy travel. Instead, Inhetep went west and angled south. There were shortcuts he knew, and by taking the narrow, winding and angling streets and alleys of the old section of Innu, and passing through the dilapidated waterfront of the commercial quarter, he knew he could shorten his walk by a mile.
It was blazingly hot as Inhetep neared the river, and as he decided to move to a more centrally located hostel next morning, the tall wizard-priest ducked his head and entered a dirty but cool tavern. A mug of small beer was better than nothing, and his throat was parched again, despite having quaffed tea but a half hour previously. He ordered a drink, and was about to toss it down and leave as quickly as he entered, when he spotted a man across the room. Inhetep slouched nervously so as to conceal his presence in the saloon.
AN ASSASSIN'S TRAIL
The docks of Innu were home to many sorts of men. Egyptians of rough sort prevailed, but shoulder to shoulder with them could be found pale Libbosians, swarthy Nubians, lank Keshites, wild-haired /Etheopeans, taciturn desert warriors of Meroe, and all manner of other races. Some were bargemen and river sailors, other laborers and dock hands, while the remainder were escorts and guards. Most were dishonest. Many were thieves, bandits, and worse. The magister's size and piercing glance were usually sufficient to enable him to go anywhere without fear. On those few occasions where appearance alone hadn't sufficed, AErth had become a ruffian or two shorter, whether due to weapon or word of power. This was an altogether different matter, for Inhetep's gaze had discovered someone far more dangerous than a lurking mugger or street tough.
There was a door at the back of the long bar room, and from it came a negro whose stature and fine features proclaimed him as a Dahlikil tribesman. Such warriors as he were the chief reason that the kingdom of Axxum remained independent from /Etheope, /Egypt, and Adal. Axxum was an adherent to the Babylonian gods in a sea of those recognizing the deities of ./Egypt. The land was also a haven for brutal tribesmen whose status was reckoned by the number of men they had slain. Inhetep recognized this individual as more than simply one of the savage warriors of that distant land, however. This particular Dahlikil was named Ya-keem. He was the most deadly assassin the wizard-priest had ever known. He and Inhetep had met twice, and in one of those confrontations the magister had barely escaped with his life. Inhetep was sitting near the wall in the front comer of the dive, and as soon as he spotted Yakeem he moved so as to seem smaller, shorter, and concealed himself in the dimness there. Now, what would bring so high-paid and elite a professional murderer to this seamy little tavern? Inhetep wondered as he watched the tall assassin.
He did not stare directly, of course, for true killers of this sort had both magickal devices and a sixth sense to give warning of such observation, something akin to Setae's own ability. Inhetep had looked away immediately upon recognizing Yakeem, blanked his upper mind, and only watched the sharp-featured Dahlikil from the corner of his eye. It was a trick of detecting motion and position. By watching only the feet, it was possible not to alert a professional such as the ebon-skinned killer. Inhetep attuned his ears to the sound of Yakeem's footfalls and listened for Ms voice. The words weren't distinct, but the man said something brief to a broad-shouldered fellow, then moved down the bar and left. As soon as the assassin had gone, Inhetep placed a pair of bronze dinars on the stained wood of his table, examining the man to whom he was sure Yakeem had spoken in passing. He was a Scythian or Median; the magister couldn't tell which at that distance. There was no time to move nearer and listen to hear his speech, either. As the priest-wizard arose from his chair, he staggered a little, made a show of draining the last dregs from his clay pot, and then lurched out. The broad-shouldered confederate of Yakeem hardly glanced at Inhetep as he left, thinking Mm merely a tipsy clerk or merchant from one of the nearby factories or warehouses.
It was twilight, and there was near gloom in the narrow streets, bet Inhetep didn't need mag-ick to locate the direction Yakeem had taken. Towards the east, the way was fairly straight, and in the time between the lanky assassin's departure from the tavern and Ms own, the priest-wizard knew that Yakeem could not have traversed the length of it. Unless the Dahlikil had entered another of the shabby buildings around the place, Inhetep reasoned, the man was headed west, following the corkscrew street towards the commercial docks. Without seeming to hurry, Inhetep moved with long strides in the direction of the river. Once out of sight of the tavern's entrance, he broke into a rapid lope. After about half a minute, Inhetep then stopped still and listened.
No sound came from behind, but ahead he heard a confusion of noise. There was some busy street ahead, perhaps a little market as well. He would have to risk being seen, or else the assassin might lose himself in the crowd. Walking again with long strides, Inhetep rounded a nearby dogleg and found himself in a broader way with a scattering of little stalls and carts lining its walls. Torches were being lit here and there against the gathering darkness. Witchlight globes and other magickal illumination devices glowed more brightly as night descended. The ruddy flare of the brands and pale washes of greenish or violet-hued foxfires enspelled by amateur local practitioners gave the scene an air between that of a gaily colored festival and some nightmare glimpse of hell.
"Poppy wine, Aisthentes?" quarried a Levantine from his doorway.
"Come here to Amrahet's stall! Every amulet and talisman I have is guaranteed potent. No need to fear the sting of scorpions, the pox! Am-rahet has charms against all ills!" sang a vendor as the tall wizard-priest moved rapidly past the man.
To the left, Inhetep saw booths selling food. Skewers of meat and vegetables toasted over lit-tie charcoal braziers, pots of soup and stew simmered, and whole fowls roasted on spits. The odor was actually enticing, each aroma combining somehow to make the mouth water, and a dozen voices cajoled passersby to eat. Yakeem wasn't to be seen there, so the magister scanned the street to the left: more peddlars, shops, and a gathering of folk emerging into the cooler evening after being inside during the hot afternoon, but the Dahlikil wasn't there either. Directly ahead was a narrow lane, a street of joy, as was evident from the wall glyphs and signs clearly visible in the light of fiery cresset or multi-hued witchlight. More money was spent here; the magicka! illuminations were skillfully cast so that sultry purples, hot reds, lilacs, pinks, and oranges lured the sensual into the erotic byway.
A fat woman tugged at Inhetep's short sleeve. "Do not pass by Madam Sefrutha's Open Lotus— a dozen willing maidens await you within!" He didn't even bother looking at her as he continued along the lane. Ahead, Inhetep had caught sight of the Dahlikil murderer, his ebony face made hideous by a blue-and-crimson light as he said something to a Cypriot pimp who blocked his way. The whoremonger was scar-faced and muscular, but he literally scurried away from the assassin when Yakeem snarled his words.
So the tall Dahlikil wasn't interested in sex— at least those "pleasures" touted by the Cypriot. Inhetep watched as Yakeem went on, moving at the same rate the assassin did, for the murderer seemed to have no suspicion he was being followed. Yakeem shoved aside tramp and trollop, peddlar and pimp, shouldering his way along through the press of customers and gawkers which now made the lane a busy thoroughfare.
"Come to the Roman's Arena! Yo
u will see such animal acts as you've never dreamed of! We have all manner of hugely .. ." the shill barked, loudly. But the hubbub of sound quickly drowned out his litany.
"Young girls and boys .. ."
"Enter the Pools of Pleasure, Effendi! There you will ..."
"Never was silver better spent than with Zen-obia, for I will ..."
"Performing before your very eyes are . . ."
"Not even Pharaoh has such women as .. ."
The pimp was doing his best to sell sense-heightening drugs as well as Ms whores. Inhetep radiated disgust and violence, and the Cypriot avoided him. Yakeem was now only about thirty paces ahead, and something in Ms posture warned the priest-wizard that the man was uneasy. A shop with a broad archway stood just across the lane, so Inhetep moved into the place, feigning interest in the array of lewd statuettes, pornography, and strange devices on display. Meanwhile, he kept his green eyes fastened on the throng outside. The Dahlikil stopped and turned, staring back along the way, studying each individual. That took only a minute, but it seemed an interminable period to Inhetep. "How much is this?" he asked the beady-eyed little man who was the proprietor of the shop.
"That is a rare work from Farz, master. You are most discerning in your tastes. Normally I would ask a neb at least, but business is poor, so I am forced to accept a loss. It is yours for but three crescents—and I'll include a packet of lust-dust. Take it quickly, for I am insane to offer such a bargain!"
Although he wasn't looking outside now, Inhetep could feel Yakeem's stare. The killer was now scanning each place a possible follower might lurk. "Bah! Do you take me for a simpleton? A visiting yokel? You ask thrice the worth of the work—and keep your spurious aphrodisiac! I will pay you a single silver piece, no more."
"One crescent? It is you who imply I am a fool! I must live, feed a family! At two crescents—it is a crime, but I will sell and take the loss."
A neb was a coin of electrum, silver and gold mixed in an alloy so as to make one four times more valuable than a silver crescent, one-tenth as valuable as the big gold aten, the sun-disc coin used in high finance. The fellow's price was still too high, for fifty bronze dinars was as much if not more than what most men here earned in a day of hard labor, and the cheaply made book was worth at most perhaps ten dinars. When Inhetep had suggested a price of a silver crescent, he had purposely offered too much in order to keep the small man haggling enthusiastically. The ploy worked, for the assassin neither recognized the magister nor continued to search for anyone shadowing him. Inhetep could feel the scrutiny pass. A surreptitious glance showed the tall killer moving on up the street, still heading towards the riverfront. "I have changed my mind," the wizard-priest said. "Take this coin for your trouble, and thanks." The man was staring in disbelief at the silvery metal he had been given as Inhetep slipped out of the shop and again trailed after the assassin.
The nature of the lane changed after the next cross street. Big buildings and a wider passage indicated that this district was given over to storage and shipping. There were few pedestrians, but the greater darkness and many recesses made it easy for Inhetep to follow the assassin without being detected. Yakeem proceeded all the way to the bank of the Nylle, and on a rickety pier there met two other men. The three clambered down a ladder and went off downstream in a skiff. It was time to act, for between sculls and current, the boat would be lost in seconds. Inhetep spotted a reed fishing boat moving slowly along with the current. It was a bowshot distant and almost perpendicular to the pier. With a swift motion, the wizard-priest drew out a little carved figurine, a delicately sculpted depiction of Hapy, the deity of the Nylle, made from the tusk of a bull hippo. Speaking rapidly but with absolute precision, Inhetep uttered syllables which would have sounded strange indeed to the ear of any normal man, /Egyptian or otherwise; but which were as a mother tongue to the kheri-heb, for they were sounds of hekau, magick
words.
He timed his incantation so that he was actually leaping out into space leaving the dock's end and arcing toward the inky waters of the river when the final words came forth and passed from tongue and lips into the air. In truth, he wasn't certain as to what, exactly, would happen. His magick had invoked the force of the Nylle and pleaded for assistance in reaching the fisher's craft nearby. Would he become a hippopotamus? A big crocodile? Perhaps a swift-swimming perch? Nothing of the sort occurred. As his feet struck the rippling waves of the river, they sank in a few inches and remained dry. Then he felt himself rising slowly up, a sensation which might be likened to rebounding in slow motion after landing upon a taut net.
"Thank you, Nylle Lord," breathed Inhetep, as he began to lope atop the water. Having the ability to cross liquid, to be as buoyant and agile as a water spider, was not a particularly difficult magickal feat. It was nothing more than an ability to control preternatural energies and whatever a law of dweomercraeftering might require— a water-strider's legs if the decrees of Simpathy were invoked, perhaps. But if the Law of Antipathy were used to bend heka energy, a grease compounded of fire-based substances might be smeared on feet, sandals, or boots. The priest-wizard had no such materials on hand, however, nor time for preparation of any formula or spell which might otherwise enable him to apply any of the many Laws of Magick to the situation. The effect was granted him through the talisman of Hapy and enabled Inhetep's cantrip to effect a means of crossing along the surface of the river to reach the little bundle of reeds in which a fisherman sat with his baited lines.
"Forget that!" the magister snapped, as he stepped dry-shod into the boat.
The man started and dropped the line he had been hauling in as if he were obeying Inhetep's order. "Chons protect me from demons!" exclaimed the fisherman, trying desperately to pick up a big knife even as he called upon the evil-fighting moon deity, Chons, for aid.
It was hardly surprising to see such a reaction, for even if there were thousands of petty practitioners as well as priests and mages employing all manner of castings and magicks in /Egypt, few common folk ever saw such heka-bending work firsthand. "Don't try to use that blade," the magister said in a firm but friendly tone. "I am a servant of Thoth on business of Pharaoh. Here. Look at this." With that, Inhetep displayed a winged solar disc resting upon a crescent moon. The night was clear, and stars and lights from Innu sparkled and danced in reflection upon the velvety waters of the Nylle, so that the fisherman could see the emblem of the owl which was in bas relief upon the disc. He wasn't sure just what that meant, but he recognized the other parts of the badge. "You are ... a police official?" he ventured, still holding the knife so that it pointed in the shaven-headed man's direction.
"Yes. That's close enough. Just who I am and what I am doing is better left unsaid—the knowledge would put you in danger! Now, listen carefully. Use your paddle to steer this craft, and steer well. You are going to pursue a skiff which is a few hundred yards ahead."
"I saw the boat, sir," the fisherman said with growing certainty, for that sort of thing was normal. "It was made of planks, and two oarsmen skulled it. Even if I had two paddles and you assisted me, we could not keep pace with that vessel!"
Inhetep merely grunted, carefully lowering his long frame to kneel on the soggy reeds at the high front of the boat. He was going to summon help, and he had to concentrate on what he was doing. "Listen, fisherman. On your life! In a moment, this sorry collection of sticks will be cutting through the water as if it were propelled by a river elemental. Do you understand me? Now, place that paddle of yours so as to steer, and forget about anything else."
"But—"
Magister Inhetep turned and placed a small coin in the man's apron. "Trust me, that is a gold drachma. More than sufficient payment. Put your mind at rest and shut your mouth. I must have absolute silence now. When we move quickly, I'll give you orders as to how to steer, but even then I will have no talking from you." The fisherman nodded, and Inhetep turned back to the bow.
Employing the little figurine once again, and chant
ing softly as he held the figure of Hapy out over the water, the wizard-priest called for a denizen of the river to come to him. "Swift-finned fish, great creature of the Nylle," he chanted. "Honored by He whose waters nourish you, come now to help another who is Hapy's friend. Be as Atu and Ant. Move this reed boat, O prince of the river, for your lord directs his hekau through me." On he went, and after several minutes, the motion of the little craft changed from that of gentle rocking to an ever-faster forward rush. Just before that occurred, Inhetep felt a bump, as if some big floating object had nudged the boat's stern. At the same moment, he heard the fisherman utter a gasp.
Without actually seeing, Inhetep knew exactly what had caused it all. Into the priest-wizard's mind came a picture of a red-brown fish, a leviathan. Although the thing had scales the color of the Nylle as it rose in the summer, the shape of it was as that of a catfish. So too the creature's head, although the feelers fringing its gaping maw were arm-thick tentacles, and the huge mouth of the fish was lined with terrible teeth. This was a giant among the fish of the river, a creature from which an enraged bull hippo would flee.