Scepter of Flint

by N. L. Holmes

  The boy led him to the door of a featureless cube of a house with a door hanging cockeyed on its pivot pole. He looked up at Hani with wide eyes. “He’s in there, my lord.”

  Lurking behind the door with a club, no doubt, Hani thought, his pulse starting to throb in his throat. I’m probably going to get the same treatment as the other man who knew too much, Djau.

  But the little boy preceded him into the dark house, and Hani followed, his stomach clenched in expectation of the worst. Standing in a corner was a slight, good-looking young man with close-cropped, unwigged hair and a furtive expression on his face. He flinched at their footsteps then drew himself up. “Lord Hani?” he asked nervously.

  “You’re Khnum-baf?”

  “Yes, my lord,” said the man, stepping forward out of the shadows. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t dare risk approaching you myself until I knew you wouldn’t arrest me.”

  “Prudent,” Hani acknowledged, finally relaxing. “How did you know who I was and where to find me?”

  “I’ve talked to Bebi-ankh.”

  Hani grinned. “He wasn’t very happy with you. He thought you had betrayed them all.”

  “That’s not true, though. And I was the one who warned him what the punishment for tomb robbing was, my lord.” The man spoke rapidly and softly. “After I explained things to him, he was grateful. He told me how good you’d been to him, how you’d sprung him out of jail.”

  Even in the darkness, Hani perceived that the man was none too clean. He must have been in hiding for nearly a year. “I’m glad you’ve resolved your differences. What news have you for me, Khnum-baf?”

  The artist looked around him uneasily and said in a voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve... I’ve seen the foreigner again.”

  A frisson of excitement traveled up Hani’s back. “Where? When?”

  “In Waset. I’d sneaked back to the city because my father was ill, and I saw the man crossing the street. This was yesterday. I dodged out of sight, as you may imagine. He’s the person I want most in the world to avoid. He knows I know who he is.”

  “Where exactly was this, Khnum-baf?”

  “In the northeast part of town, my lord. My parents have a workshop where they paint coffins and shabtis and such.”

  “And that’s all you saw?” Hani pressed. “You didn’t see where he went?”

  “I did. He went into the house next to my parents’. I was scared he’d come to do harm to them or my children—they’ve been living with my parents while I’ve been in hiding.” He looked pleadingly at Hani as if he were afraid Hani would judge him. “I haven’t been able to work, you know. The children had to eat somehow.”

  So Talpu-sharri is in Waset, is he? Hani said, “Who lives in that house?”

  “No one. They were bronze workers, but they moved down to Akhet-aten, where most of their clientele had gone.”

  “Can your son show me where the house is?” Hani smiled at the boy, who stood pressed up against his father.

  “He can.” Khnum-baf licked his lips. “Will you hide us, my lord? Bebi-ankh said you hid him.”

  “I’ll find a safe place for you, you may be sure,” Hani said, not knowing exactly how he was going to fulfill that promise. If Mahu had him under observation, he could hardly bring them to his home without disguising them somehow. “Now, can this brave lad lead me to his grandparents’ house?”

  Khnum-baf took his son gravely by the shoulders and, leaning over him, said, “Take this man to Grandfather’s house, Huy. Then stay there. I’ll come back after sundown.”

  The boy nodded seriously and set off with Hani at his heels once more. They stayed well inland from the River and made their way through narrow streets totally unknown to Hani, even though he was a native of the City of the Scepter. Night had almost fallen, and the houses shadowed the alleyways into complete darkness. Overhead, Hani glimpsed a sliver of silver moon. I’ll never be able to find my way back, he thought in annoyance.

  At last, the boy stopped and drew Hani into the deeper shadows along the walls of a house. “It’s that one, there.” Huy pointed to a featureless stretch of whitewashed mud brick punctuated by a door. “Grandma and Grandpa live there.” His finger shifted to the left, to another door. There were no windows at all on either.

  They must be centered on courtyards, since both have housed workshops. Hani tried to fix the facade in his memory, but it was without any distinguishing marks. He counted up four doors from the far intersection and hoped that would be sufficient to guide him.

  “Thank you, Huy,” he murmured to the boy. “Could you take me back to the River by the straightest route?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  For an inhabitant of the Place of Truth, the boy seems to have a good sense of directions in Waset, Hani thought. But then, he must have lived with his grandparents for the better part of a year, ever since his father had fled.

  In fact, the way to the River wasn’t long and involved few turns except those made by the street they followed. At the water’s edge, Hani thanked the boy and pressed into his hand a faience ring that might feed the family for several days. “My thanks to you, young man. Tell your father I’ll be back in touch with him through a servant. May the Lord Bes watch over you.”

  Huy’s eyes grew huge at the sight of the ring. He mumbled his gratitude and took off running into the dusk.

  Hani stood staring pensively out over the River, where a mist had begun to gather, pearly in the weak light of the new moon rising behind him. In the darkness, boats lay rocking at anchor, the water clapping at their hulls. The call of frogs pulsed. Not far away, a heron cried hoarsely, and from across the River, a roar proclaimed the presence of a hippopotamus.

  With a sigh, he turned and made his way south toward home. Nub-nefer is probably worried about me.

  ⸎

  The next morning, Maya showed up ready to write, but Hani was already in the vestibule with his sandals on, and he steered his secretary directly back out into the street. “We need to pay our friend Menna a visit.”

  Maya’s ears pricked up. “Another stakeout, Lord Hani?” The last one, with his flying leap onto the back of a tomb robber, had been a particularly successful chapter in his tale. Sat-hut-haru and the children had shown a gratifying range of emotions—horror, nail-biting fear, admiration. It had set a hard standard to match.

  “Not for us. I’ve found Talpu-sharri. He’s right here in Waset.”

  “Yahya!” Maya cried eagerly. “He must be planning another break-in. Are we going to lie in wait for him?”

  “In a way. I think I know the house where he’s holed up. I want some of Menna’s men to watch it day and night and catch him the moment he steps outside.” Hani recounted for Maya the message sent by Khnum-baf and the visit to the empty house. “I think I’ll send the man to the farm. He can stay in the servants’ quarters with his children.”

  “At last, a new clue. If only we can catch that accursed Mitannian, we’ll get some answers.” Maya swung along at Hani’s side, a spring in his step.

  But Hani didn’t answer. Instead, his eyebrows knit in concentration.

  The two men strode down the processional way until they were in sight of the Ipet of the South—or rather, the former temple. It stood derelict these days, its flagpoles naked, its jeweled cult statue smashed. The very sight of it was a pain in the heart for any loyal Egyptian. Maya remembered all the times he’d stood between two of the ram-headed lions that rhythmed the road. Along with the crowd, he’d cheered in a delirium of joyful piety as the golden cabinet that held the statue of Amen-Ra passed by, held high on the shoulders of wab priests. He thought of all the times he’d seen the king enter the sanctuary and emerge divine under the transfiguring power of the Hidden One.

  So much for all that, Maya thought, his good humor curdling. Will those days ever come back? Will the king of the gods ever take his rightful place again in our Two Lands as he has remained in our hearts?

  They’d reached th
e army barracks, and Hani gave his credentials to the soldier at the gate. “Could we speak to Menna? King’s business. Unless he’s on maneuvers elsewhere...”

  “He should be someplace in the garrison, my lord. Wait here, please.” The guard hurried off into the broad court.

  Hani exchanged a look with Maya. “Why all these precautions suddenly, I wonder? We used to be able to enter on our own.”

  Maya lifted his eyebrows in question. “Strange, isn’t it, my lord?”

  A long time passed before Menna came loping up, his face wreathed in smiles at the sight of his savior. “My lord! What brings you here?” He stepped back and gestured the men to pass inside the court.

  “I need some of your men, Menna. We’ve located the foreign leader of the tomb robberies, and I’d like you to arrest him before he slips away again.”

  But Menna shifted uncomfortably, his eyes avoiding Hani’s. “Oh, uh... I don’t think the men are available for that anymore, my lord. Since the death of the vizier, there have been some changes in our standing orders.”

  Hani fixed him with a stare. “You’ve been told not to take part in this investigation?”

  “Not in so many words, Lord Hani, but... your authority has been revoked.”

  “What!” Hani cried, shocked. “They told you this and not me? By whose orders?”

  “It was transmitted to us by General Ra-mes, my lord. He said because you had mission papers from Lord Aper-el, they were all revoked now.”

  “He specifically singled me out?” Hani’s tone was incredulous, and Maya could see the scarlet of anger creeping up his cheeks.

  Menna looked miserable. “I wish it weren’t so, my lord. You know how I want to help you. But I can’t go against orders.”

  “No, no, of course not, Menna. Thank you for being frank with me. I need to check into this.” Hani flashed Maya a grim look, and the two men turned to leave. Before they’d walked away, however, he turned back to Menna and said, “What about those prisoners I gave you, my friend?”

  “I had to turn them over to the cavalry, my lord. I’m sorry.” The young officer looked mortally embarrassed.

  Hani nodded, and the two men made their way out into the street.

  “What’s that all about, Lord Hani?” cried Maya in outrage once they were out of hearing range. “They don’t even want to catch this bastard who has deprived people of the food and goods they’ll need in the afterlife?”

  “From what I understand of the king’s religion, there is no afterlife. The dead just hang around the altars of the Aten and bask in Nefer-khepru-ra’s glow.” Hani’s lips were compressed, his tone bitter.

  “I’m sure Lady Apeny is enjoying herself.”

  Maya muttered a curse under his breath. “I’ll bet they’re going to let that dog turd Mahu get the glory of the arrest.”

  “You may be right. There seems no longer to be a place for ma’at in the Two Lands. Mane may regret that the Mitannians have sent him home.”

  Maya had never seen Hani so deeply angry—not with a superficial yelling-out-loud anger but with one that saturated his very bones. He was walking faster and faster until Maya had to surrender all dignity to keep up with him. “My lord!” he called plaintively as Hani drew farther and farther ahead.

  Hani stopped and turned around, and Maya glimpsed his thunderous face before Hani broke into an apologetic smile, baring the winsome space between his front teeth. “Sorry, son. I’m letting this get under my skin, which does no good at all. ‘Choose silence for yourself. Submit to what your attacker does.’ I’d do well to listen to my own words, eh?”

  He waited till Maya had caught up to him then, as they moved ahead, said, “I need to talk to Ptah-mes. And if we can’t find him, I’m going to put my litter bearers on this ambush. We mustn’t let Talpu-sharri get away. We owe it to those people he killed.”

  “What if Lord Ptah-mes is in Akhet-aten, my lord? Which is likely.”

  “Then we act without a commission.”

  Maya swallowed hard. He could feel his face flaming with something he hoped was not fear.

  They strode on down to the southern part of the city, where Ptah-mes’s ancestral mansion stood. Trepidation and excitement fizzed in a hot brew inside Maya. They would have no protection from on high from now on. Mahu would eat them alive.

  The liveried gatekeeper admitted them and asked them to wait in the vestibule. Before long, brisk footsteps approached, clacking on the painted gypsum floors. Ptah-mes emerged from the salon.

  “Hani,” he said, eyeing Hani’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “The army has received orders not to help us anymore, my lord. Apparently, the death of the Osir Aper-el has invalidated our commission.”

  Ptah-mes said nothing, but his face grew harder and harder until it took on an edge like flint. His black eyes burned with a cold flame. “I’m going to see the king. And if he refuses to permit me to pursue this case, I’m resigning.”

  “Oh, my lord, be careful,” Hani said uncertainly.

  Maya could remember Ptah-mes saying that very thing to Hani a few years before. In fact, that had been Ptah-mes’s advice all along: “Be temperate, stay under the notice of your superiors. Think whatever you think, but say nothing.” The death of his wife had changed him. He no longer had anything to lose.

  “Don’t get into trouble for my sake,” Hani pleaded.

  “It won’t be for your sake, my friend, but for mine.” Ptah-mes turned brusquely on his heel and headed back inside the salon. Over his shoulder, he called, “I’m leaving immediately. Come along if you want.”

  Hani hurried in his wake. “My lord, what I never got around to telling you is that we’ve located Talpu-sharri here in Waset. We must go after him tonight, or he may get away. I’m willing to put my own men on the capture. But what do we do with him afterward? Will anyone sentence him? Will anyone punish him? The army had to let their other prisoners go.”

  Ptah-mes stopped, his face concentrated with thought. “I’ll lend you some men and wait to see how this turns out. Take him, Hani. Keep him here if you need to. After all”—a dangerous smile spread his lips thin—“no one has ever officially informed us that we’re removed from the case.”

  “You’re right, my lord.” Hani turned to Maya with a dark grin. “He’s absolutely right.”

  ⸎

  As night fell that evening, Hani’s four litter bearers and a pair of Ptah-mes’s servants stood guard over the house where Talpu-sharri had been seen. Hani had planted them in the neighbor’s recessed doorway, at either end of the block, and even against the wall of the house, squatting with their heads lowered, like beggars. The building had no service door, Hani had assured himself, nor did any of the modest residences along the street. At his signal, the men would swarm the malefactor as he came out of the door. If he should manage to break away, they would stop him no matter which direction he ran. Hani himself waited beside the door, flattened against the whitewashed wall, his tallow lantern covered.

  Time passed. The street grew darker and darker. The men blocking the entrances to the street lit their torches as Hani had instructed; it wouldn’t do to lose Talpu-sharri in the night. Maya waited there as well because he’d pleaded to participate. I wish he hadn’t insisted on coming. How can I face Sat-hut-haru if anything happens to him?

  The crescent moon rose overhead. No one emerged from the house. Hani had seen a light through the small high windows of the place, so he felt confident that the Mitannian was within. He heard a cough and a rustle as one of his “beggars” shifted position, but still, no one came out.

  It must have been near midnight when Hani heard a faint rasp as of a door being unbarred. A blacker crack appeared along the edge of the panel, which widened until a man emerged silently and drew the door shut behind him with scarcely a sound. He was wearing dark clothes, but Hani could see his legs and face, ghostly pale in the faint moonlight.

  “Now!” Hani shouted. The two beggars surged up and grabbed
the man’s arms. Others came flying from their posts and fell upon him as he struggled.

  “What under heaven is this?” Talpu-sharri spluttered as the men bore him to the ground.

  “Tie him up.” Hani stood over him. “We’ve got him,” he cried to the torchbearers and Maya, who came running from the ends of the block. Here and there, a curious head appeared from a rooftop terrace.

  The six stalwarts bound their captive’s wrists behind his back and shackled his feet so that he could hobble but not run. Hani leaned over and pulled the man up by the front of his tunic with more force than was strictly necessary. “Well, well, if it isn’t Lady Kiya’s chamberlain. How is it you didn’t go back to Naharin with her like a good servant?”

  Talpu-sharri had suffered some pretty brutal scrapes and bruises as the men had fallen upon him, and his thick hair was in wild disarray. But although he was panting, he faced Hani with haughty dignity. “I demand to know the meaning of this outrage.”

  “Why didn’t you call for the watchmen when someone attacked you, my fine fellow? Perhaps you didn’t want the authorities to find you. Just like you didn’t want the authorities to find you on Lady Kiya’s boat.” Hani eyed him up and down by the fitful light of the torches. “Got anything on your conscience?”

  “No. And I’m offended that you should imply such a thing. I want to see my ambassador.”

  “You’ll see him; don’t worry.” From the corner of his eye, Hani observed that Maya had come to stand at his side, his face hard and threatening. “Not wearing your blue-green tunic tonight? It’s a shame. Everybody loved it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Talpu-sharri cried, swelling with indignation.

  “Why did you jump ship? Did the soldier warn you that troops were coming to arrest you?”

  Hani could have sworn that the man paled, but it might have been a trick of the light.