by Lauren Haney
Breathing hard, scratched and dirty, he peered through a screen of brush at the top of the slope. The arrows had come from the left, he thought, from Nebmose's villa or one of the houses in the town beyond its walls. Out of necessity, the angle had been steep, which placed the man on a high wall or the roof of a tall building.
Not a creature stirred. Not surprising. Men who attacked from ambush seldom remained in place for long. Whether their mission failed or succeeded, they dared not linger. As a result, they often left behind telltale signs of their presence.
Lest this assailant prove more foolhardy than most, Bak hunched over, darted out from among the bushes, and raced in zigzag fashion toward the governor's compound. He burst through the entryway. The guard, seated on the steps of the small gatehouse inside the wall, jerked his head up from his knees and blinked in confusion. He had been asleep. Bak doubted anyone could have passed through the gate without waking him, but he would not have been roused by an archer on the nearby wWls or rooftops.
Wasting no time on questions, he scanned likely spots for ambush. He saw neither man nor bird. Hurrying outside the portal, he trotted along the wall and turned into the lane that took him to the front gate of Nebmose's villa. The entryway was closed and barred, as he had left it several days earlier. He backed up a half dozen paces and took a running leap at the barrier, smooth-faced on the outside. The fingers of his right hand cleared the edge. He clung there for a moment, his digits cramping. Before he could fall, he thrust his body upward and caught hold with the other hand. Scrambling higher, he cleared the gate with his head and shoulders. He examined the visible structures, paying particular attention to the roofs of the taller buildings. When he was reasonably sure he was alone and safe, he heaved himself up the rest of the way, threw his legs over the edge, and dropped to the path inside, raising an impressive puff of dust.
"Hey!" someone shouted. "Stop right where you are!" Bak started, swung around. He saw no one in the shrine or the garden.
"Spread your hands and legs!" The command came from around the corner of the house.
Praying the voice was that of a guard, praying he had not unwittingly walked into the archer's grasp, Bak obeyed. A man stepped into view, spear poised. The youthful guard Nenu. His face registered recognition, his mouth dropped open, and the spearpoint tipped toward the earth.
Bak breathed a long, deep sigh of relief.
Chapter Eight
"You're lucky he didn't shoot you, sir," Kasaya said.
Bak gave the hulking young Medjay a wry smile. "I can't tell you how fervently I thanked the lord Amon that he was a guard who knew me."
"I'm surprised he didn't fire first and look later." Kasaya fussed with the sail, adjusting the braces for what must have been the hundredth time in less than an hour. No sooner did he settle down to relax than the breeze came from another quarter, emptying the heavy linen and setting it aflutter. As good-natured as the Medjay was and as even tempered, this short voyage downriver was beginning to try his patience. "None of the governor's guards have much training, I've noticed, especially newer men like Nenu. And with so many deaths you can barely count them on the fingers of one hand, they're all as skittish as gazelles being stalked by a pack of hunting dogs."
"That must be the island where we'll find Ineni." Bak, seated in the stern, pointed at a low mound of vegetation in the river ahead. From a distance, it looked like a wayward expanse of fertility broken loose from the narrow strip of farmland betweCn the water's edge and the barren sands of the adjacent desert.
"I thank the lord Amon!" Kasaya muttered, letting the sail drop. Ignoring the fabric crumpled between the upper and lower yards, he took up the oars and began to row. He aimed the vessel toward the narrow channel between the island and the west bank.
"You'd think fear would keep those guards alert and aware of all who come too close, yet Nenu swore he saw no one." Bak still seethed each time he thought of the big, dumb guard, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, plodding around as witless as the unfinished statue Antef's men had loaded onto a barge. The dolt had in fact seemed skeptical about the whole affair, merely going through the motions as if the archer had been a figment of Bak's imagination.
"He was probably sleeping, like the man at the gatehouse."
"He faithfully patrolled the grounds of that villa all morning-so he claims." Bak's voice exuded disbelief. Kasaya's face registered a similar skepticism.
"After I gave up looking for the archer," Bak said, "I searched out Amonhotep. He agreed the guards are getting careless, and he promised to impress upon them the need to remain alert."
"Somebody better stay awake behind those walls. Even I, each time I set foot inside, take care to guard my back." Bak gave him a sharp look. His own fear, born of the shooting, had quickly turned to anger. And a strong awareness of the need for caution. "If the guards are afraid and if you, a stranger, also feel threatened, the servants must be terrified."
"They scurry from room to room like mice fearful of a prowling cat." Spotting a couple of skiffs drawn up on the shore, Kasaya lifted the tips of the oars from the water and let the small craft drift toward them. "Only mistress Khawet's firm hand is holding them together."
"They should thank the gods she's there." Bak recalled the last time he had seen her and smiled. "For one who allowed another woman to rule the household, she's taken command in an admirable fashion."
Kasaya grinned. "She'd make a more satisfactory governor than her father, I'd wager."
Bak sat quite still, the words driving home a new thought, one that should have occurred to him sooner. "You must look after her, Kasaya. I've thought always that Djehuty will be the next to die, but what if I err? What if the slayer takes the life of the one most dear to him? His only daughter."
Bak scrambled out of the skiff and sent Kasaya rushing back to the governor's villa. He clung to his belief that the slayer would not strike until ten days separated Hatnofer's death from the next, but he deemed it best to take precautions. He could return to Abu with Ineni-or walk back, if he had to.
As he watched the Medjay raise the sail, he realized he had neglected to tell either of his men to lie in wait for the bearer of the unwanted gifts. He raised his hands to his mouth, thinking to call out to Kasaya, but decided not to. With the intrusions escalated to ambush, they surely had seen the last of the more subtle threats.
He followed an overgrown path through knee-high grass and brush so tall he could not see over it. As often as not, he splashed through water, puddles glimpsed among the thick foliage, residue of the recent flood. Birds filled the air with song. An ichneumon-mongoose-darted across his path so fast he almost missed it, and some unseen creature set the grass to waving off to his left. Sweat, drawn from him by the moist heat, trickled down his breast. The island, he guessed, was an immense sandbar saved by the lush growth from destruction by floodwaters and swift currents. The river had deposited this transitory haven and would one day carry it away. The lord Hapi at his best and worst.
Somewhere ahead, he heard the whinny of a horse. His heart skipped a beat and his pace quickened. The years he had spent as a charioteer had given him a deep love of the large and graceful creatures, a sense of comradeship with them. For an instant he wished ... No, his task as a police officer suited him better, challenged his wits in addition to his body. He could not, would not go back.
He burst through a thicket of brush and vines. Ahead lay a pasture covered with grass so tall it brushed the bellies of fifty or more red-and-white-spotted, short-horned cattle. Two small boys sat on a mound of earth, watching the herd. A pack of curly-haired black dogs lay in the grass around them.
The boys glanced at Bak, who waved a greeting. One youth scrambled to his feet, put his fingers to his mouth, and gave a long, trilling whistle, signaling the arrival of a stranger. Warning their father, he thought, and Ineni and possibly others as well, men who would come running if needed. He walked in among the grazing cattle, animals as plump and healthy as any he
had ever seen. Small brown birds clung to their necks and backs, harvesting insects, while egrets pecked the soggy earth around their hooves. Ineni had talked of having a skill for farming. If these animals were representative, the claim was no exaggeration.
As he cleared the herd, the governor's son and a toughlooking man with a bent nose waded out of the river. Both carried stout wooden clubs they looked prepared to use. Bak strode toward them across a patch of scruffy grass heavily trodden by animals.
Beyond, a herd of thirty or more horses stood shoulderdeep in the river, blowing, whinnying, throwing up their heads for the sheer joy of life, shaking water from their long manes. About half were a rich golden-brown, the rest white, gray, or black. A boy of twelve or so years sat astride a thicknecked black animal Bak guessed was the stallion from the land of Hatti that Ineni had mentioned a few days before. Three men half swam, half walked among the herd, controlling the animals with gentle hands and kindly voices and at the same time keeping a wary eye on Bak. A second boy stood close to shore, minding a dozen foals.
"So it's you." Ineni's voice was cool, unwelcoming. "Do you always greet visitors in this friendly manner?" Bak asked, nodding toward the weapons, "or do you reserve so warm a welcome for police officers?"
Ineni's eyes flashed anger. "If you've come at Djehuty's behest, Lieutenant, you've wasted your time."
"I answer to no man but Commandant Thuty-and he's . in faroff Buhen."
Bak was puzzled by the clubs, by the defensive posture. The herd was large and impressive, true, and extremely valuable, but the punishment for stealing horses was so harsh few men would take the risk. Even wild desert tribesmen were seldom tempted, with fear of impalement to dissuade them.
Ineni glared, too tied to his own purpose to pay heed. "I'll menage the Nubt estate as I see fit, not trade away its assets is response to a whim."
Bak scowled at the pair before him, not understanding."I've come in search of information, that's all. Now will you` drop those clubs and let me get on with my task?"
"You've not come to. . Ineni's voice faltered. He lowered his weapon and stared at Bak in confusion. "Djehuty didn't send you? You're not here to see these horses delivered to the animal market in Swenet?"
Bak's eyes darted toward the magnificent animals. "You're not selling them!"
"Djehuty ordered me to." Ineni's voice pulsed with anger-and defiance.
"You've decided to oppose him?"
"I have." Ineni half turned around to look at the herd. "A desert chieftain, head of a tribe of nomads, men who travel the burning sands through all the months of the year, has come to Djehuty time and time again, pleading for horses. Two days ago he came again, and my father agreed to trade away the herd, each and every animal, even the stallion from Hatti."
Bak muttered a curse, stunned by so rash an action. "Why?"
"I know what those tribesmen are. They're wild and unruly, men of great passion but no common sense. If the horses don't die from lack of care and the proper food and water, they'll run them until they drop, then they'll hack them to pieces for food. I won't let that happen."
"Where will you take them?" Abruptly, Bak raised his hands, signaling silence. "No, don't tell me. I was ordered to Abu to track down a slayer, not stand between a man and his father."
Ineni's laugh was soft, containing no humor whatsoever, but broke the tension between them. "I thank the lord Khnum, Lieutenant, that you care as I do for horses."
Bak squeezed his shoulder, smiled. "If ever I return to the regiment of Amon, I'll need a young team. Now I know where to find them."
Turning away, clearing his throat, trying to rid himself of unmanly emotion, Ineni called to the men in the river, "Bring them out now and dry them off. We must soon get them on their way."
They looked at him, at Bak, and at the man with the crooked nose, confused by the sudden order.
"Move, you laggards!" Ineni shouted. "We've a herd to save."
The boy, breaking into a grin, swung the black horse around and rode the beast out of the water. With their human guardians urging them on-amid sudden laughter and backslapping-the other horses followed. The foals scrambled to dry land, eager to rejoin their mothers. Bak had seldom seen such fine animals. All were sleek and fit, spirited yet wellbehaved. He longed to separate out a fine matched pair, to harness them to a chariot, to feel the reins in his hands and the speed of the moving vehicle.
The men caught the animals one by one and tied them to stakes sunk deep in the ground. Someone passed out rags, and they set to work rubbing down their charges.
Ineni picked up a rag, walked to the black stallion, and began to dry his neck. "Now, Lieutenant, what can I do for you?" He noticed Bak's bemused expression, laughed. "You think we're wasting time and effort? We're not. There's a shallow passage between the island and the west bank. They'll get their hooves wet, little more." He looked a new man and acted like one: bright and cheerful, resolute.
Smiling, Bak grabbed a length of frayed cloth and slipped into the space between the stallion and a long-legged white
mare with a dark mane tethered to the same stake. He caught hold of her bridle and set to work. "I've a slayer to find, Ineni, and you owe me some answers."
"I doubt I can help you much." Ineni looked across the stallion's back, his good humor banished by the reminder of murder. "Simut told me you think the deaths were prompted by the sandstorm that came close to destroying the garrison a few years ago. I've never been in the army. Until I wed Khawet, I spent most of my days on our estate in Nubt, well north of the province my father governs and far from the garrison. I take no interest whatsoever in Abu."
Though weary of repeating himself, Bak explained, "Other than Hatnofer, I've learned that all who've died so far were either survivors of the storm or the sons of survivors. I'm now looking for men who lost loved ones, men who might blame their loss on Djehuty and the others who came back unscathed."
Ineni snorted. "I thought your goal was to narrow the field of suspects, not widen it."
"Whoever took those lives has an intimate knowledge of your father's household and complete freedom within the surrounding walls," Bak reminded him. "That fact alone keeps the number manageable."
Ineni eyed Bak, torn by indecision. The stallion nuzzled him, reminding him of his task and of the debt he owed the police officer. He smiled at the animal, rubbed its muzzle. "I could blame Djehuty-and I have-many times. My father was among those who vanished."
Bak's head snapped around. "Your ... Your what?" "My father. The man who lay with my mother and sired me."
"Djehuty isirt ... ?"
Ineni gave a sharp, humorless laugh, startling the stallion, making him jerk the rope holding him in place. "My father-my natural father-was a soldier in the garrison when Djehuty was a young man, staying in Abu until he could find a suitable position in the army. I was still taking sustenance from my mother's breast when suddenly my father was
posted to a faraway land. She couldn't travel with him, and she had no family to go to. In three days time, Djehuty took her into the governor's villa and that very night he claimed her as his own." His mouth tightened and he rubbed the horse so vigorously it sidestepped, narrowing the gap Bak occupied. "I'll always believe he coveted her from afar and finally whispered in his father's ear, seeking my father's distant posting. I've no way of learning the truth."
Bak slapped the stallion's flank, making more room. He could literally feel the young farmer's anger, hear it in the surge of words dammed up for years. Or had he confided in Khawet? His hatred of her father might account for the discord between them.
"My father was gone ten years. When he returned, his wife dwelt in the netherworld and his son in Nubt. He dared not say a word." Ineni's face registered a bitter anger; his hands moved swiftly over the stallion's legs. "He came sometimes to see me, and in a way we drew close. But Djehuty always stood between us. He seduced me just as he had my mother. He saw how much I loved the land, saw how skilled I was with men
and animals. He gave me ever greater responsibilities and, at the age of seventeen, made me manager of his estate. The land became my mistress."
Bak stood erect to wring the water from his rag. "The land, not Khawet?"
"We were of a marriageable age and I cared for her, but ho." Ineni gave another of his harsh laughs. "I was a servant, in no way worthy of the great man's only child."
Bak nodded understanding. Djehuty claimed descent from a long line of provincial governors. Would he not wish his daughter to wed nobility? -
Ineni continued: "That storm you're interested in altered many lives, mine most of all. I was twenty years of age when the desert swallowed up my father. My mother was long dead, and I was alone in the world. Djehuty was a man with no sons, and Khawet his sole daughter. His estate was thriv,ing thanks to my good sense." He squeezed out his rag, came around the stallion's rump, and continued his task, sharing Bak's space. "One day he came to me-four months, it was, after the storm. He wanted to adopt me as his son, he told me, and in return, I must wed Khawet. He wanted his estate to remain whole, and I wanted the land. As for Khawet ... Well, he'd made the decision and she had no say in the matter. And so it happened. The contract was drawn up and witnessed, and she came into my bed." He gave a strained little laugh. "All in all, the arrangement worked out as well as could be expected."
"I've noticed a certain distance between you and Khawet." Bak spoke with care, trying to be tactful when tact was impossible.
"Why should I deny what all the world knows?" Ineni's smile was fierce. "I've done everything in my power to earn her affection, but she clings to the memory of a past beloved, one who long ago entered the netherworld. Even that I might overcome, but her father holds her by his side in Abu, while I must spend much of my time on our estate in Nubt."