Meren allowed the two guards to shove him out of the house after Tanefer. If he was forced to fight, he'd rather do it in the open, and Tanefer didn't fully believe his professed decision to join him in treason. He had tried to be convincing, seeming to waver between loyalty to pharaoh and Tanefer's passionate ambitions for Egypt. Yet his hands were still bound.
He had tried to accustom himself to what must be done, but most of his time had been spent wondering at the mysteries men kept hidden in their souls. He had known Tanefer for so long. He'd trusted him in battle with his life, caroused in beer taverns with him, even been with the same woman. Yet each of them reserved a part of himself-a part rich in secret wounds and corruptions-sheltered in the depths of the ka.
It was that time between dusk and darkness when pale objects seemed to brighten with the last vestiges of the heat of Ra. Meren glanced around the forecourt as he was pushed toward a chariot. He'd been gone long enough for Kysen to miss him. He could only hope the boy was trying to find him, but he couldn't think of any signs he'd left that would make Kysen search at Ahiram's house.
Then he heard a wiry screech, and another-the sound of two cats fighting. Meren fought hard not to relief. When his guards shoved him again, he balked and knocked aside a spear. Tanefer turned, drawing his dagger at the noise.
"Where are you taking me?" Meren demanded. "I've said I would join you. Release me now."
Tanefer strolled back to him, slapping his palm with the flat of his dagger blade. "I think not. I've had time to consider, and despite your so-graceful submission, I think I'll feel better if it's accompanied by a complete estrangement from pharaoh."
Meren stared at his friend. "So you're going to make him hate me."
Tanefer laughed. "Perhaps. But first I'll keep you awhile. If you vanish from sight without warning, pharaoh will have good cause to look upon you in a manner like to Ahiram. After ten days or so, I'll release you. Then, no matter how dear you are to him, he'll never be able to trust you again."
"And he won't believe me if I tell him about you," Meren said.
"Also, if you betray me," Tanefer said, "your interference will come too late. In ten days I'll have my men gathered outside the city." He stopped and glanced around. "Enough of this chatter. It's almost dark. I couldn't risk moving you in daylight, you know. Your face is too well known."
Meren felt the tip of a spear poke him in the back. From somewhere beyond the high walls that blocked his view of the street, the din of cat fury began again. He took a step toward the chariot, moving away from the guards. As he moved, he heard a familiar twang and hiss. The guard behind him grunted and toppled as an arrow took him in the chest. Another arrow flew past, just missing the second guard.
At the same time, Meren twisted around and grabbed the second guard's spear. Before the man could respond, he'd yanked the weapon from his grasp. The guard drew a knife from his belt. Hampered by his bonds, Meren jumped back, hefted the spear, and shoved it. The tip caught the man in the thigh. He screamed and dropped to the ground. Around him he heard the war cries of his charioteers and saw men scaling the guard walls.
The second guard's knife was lying beside him. Meren dropped to one knee and reached for it with his bound hands. The edge of a blade descended in front of him and pressed into his neck. As it did, he heard Ky-sen's voice call a halt to the charioteers. He heard Tanefer whisper in his ear.
"Don't, old friend. I don't wish to kill you."
The edge of the dagger sliced into his skin, bringing a searing sting. Blood seeped between his flesh and the blade, trickled down his neck. He drew his hands back from the knife as his regret at having to fight Tanefer vanished in his fury.
"Now," said Tanefer, "rise slowly."
"Damnation to you, Tanefer."
"I know, brother of my heart. This grieves me as well. Forgive me."
Tanefer's arm slipped around his throat and shoved his chin up, further exposing his neck. Meren stood and Tanefer turned him so that they faced Kysen and half a dozen charioteers scattered between the house and the guard walls. The chariot was standing by, but only because the horses had been tethered.
Tightening his grip on Meren, Tanefer called out. "Well done, Ky, but you should have killed me first."
Kysen began to walk toward them, and Meren felt the blade sink deeper into his flesh. Charioteers started closing in on them. He set his jaw, refusing to cry out as Tanefer wished. Then the blade lifted, swiftly. Like the strike of a hunting cat, Tanefer's blade jabbed.
Meren felt it pierce his flesh high on his shoulder. He heard Kysen shout.
This time he couldn't prevent a cry from escaping as the dagger embedded itself and then withdrew. Stunned, Meren felt his body stiffen. His hands came up to press against the wound. Blood wet them. Figures rushed at him, but Tanefer stopped them by returning the dagger to Meren's throat.
"Forgive me, Ky," Tanefer was saying, "I do regret causing Meren pain, but this is the most efficient solution to my dilemma. Now you must allow me to go to my yacht unhindered, for that's the only way your father will live. If you try to prevent me, I'll simply delay, and if that happens, the way Meren's bleeding… Well, do you wish to risk it?"
"No."
"I thought not. Now drop your weapons. All of you move back to the wall. Meren, we're going to my chariot. You will drive. That's why I kept your wound shallow."
"You've lost," Meren said through clenched teeth. "Don't make things worse."
"You're mistaken. Look at your son, he'd hand me the sun boat of Ra if it would save your life."
Tanefer began to drag him sideways toward the chariot. It was almost nightfall now, and he could hardly see Kysen or anyone else. His thoughts raced while he fought the pain of his wound. He was fast losing strength. If he was going to fight, it would have to be now. He was about to grab Tanefer's dagger arm when he heard a sound- phhhht. Tanefer jumped and gasped as an arrow grazed his arm.
This was his chance. Meren grabbed Tanefer's dagger. He shoved it away and twisted to face his opponent at the same time. He heard Kysen shouting, but he and
Tanefer were engaged in a battle for possession of the dagger.
Although he knew things were happening quickly, he saw them as if in a sea of chilled honey. The blade writhed in Tanefer's hands, then pointed at Meren. Without warning, Tanefer leapt on him.
Caught off guard, Meren felt his body overbalance, and he fell beneath Tanefer. He hit the ground, his head cracking against the packed earth. Desperate, he kept his grip on Tanefer's wrists. But as they struggled, he felt his strength wash from him, receding like a spent sea wave on a beach.
His hands were wet with blood, and they shook. His muscles screamed at the strain, while above him Tanefer pressed down on the dagger, aiming it at his heart. Knowing he had little time, Meren heaved upward with his whole body.
They writhed, tangling their legs and rolling. He sank beneath Tanefer's weight again. He was slammed against the ground, crying out as the impact jarred his wound. His hands slipped as they tried to deflect the dagger. He twisted the weapon at the last moment, just as the black shadow of Tanefer's body descended upon him. He felt the blade puncture flesh, glance off bone. Hot blood spilled over him. He couldn't breathe. Tanefer gasped in his ear. "Forgive me, brother of my heart."
"No." He felt Tanefer's body relax and he swore.
Suddenly he was free of Tanefer's weight. Meren blinked up into torchlight. Kysen and Abu were lifting the body off him. Kysen dropped to his knees and began prodding.
"Are you hurt? Damnation, answer me!"
"I don't know."
He winced as he tried to sit. Kysen helped him, and by the time he was upright, he realized that he wasn't seriously wounded. He watched Kysen's hands tremble while they touched the flesh near the wound on his shoulder.
A charioteer appeared with cloth, which Kysen pressed against the wound. More charioteers arrived, bearing torches. A pool of light formed, revealing Tanefer. He was lying on his back, his chest covered with blood from a wound near the heart. Meren cursed, then shook his head as his vision blurred. He couldn't remember stabbing Tanefer, but he must have.
"Gods," Kysen said. "I saw that arrow and started running, but you fought so quickly. By the time we got here, I thought he'd killed you."
Meren's vision filled with the sight of Tanefer's ruined body. Crimson stained the sheer white of his robe and dappled the electrum at his wrists and neck. Death seemed such a violation in a body full of brightness, wit, and youth. Turning his face away, he allowed Kysen to bind his wound.
"This will do until Nebamun can treat you."
Abu held a cup of water to his lips, and as Meren drank a shadow fell between him and the torchlight. He pushed the cup away and raised his eyes. Ebana stood over him, holding a bow. Kysen helped Meren stand, and together they stared at his cousin. Ebana bent down and retrieved a bloodied arrow. At the appearance of Meren's cousin, Abu and the other charioteers retreated out of hearing distance.
"It was you!" Kysen said. "You fired that arrow at Tanefer."
"You piqued my curiosity with your worry about your father, so I followed you," Ebana said.
Meren leaned on Kysen and studied the scarred blankness of Ebana's expression. "Did you try to kill him to save me, or to stop him from using you against pharaoh?"
Ebana didn't answer.
"I don't understand," Kysen said.
"Tanefer has been planning a revolt all along," Meren said. "He was using Ahiram and Qenamun to devise the desecration of Akhenaten's tomb in order to provide funds for his mercenaries. The pure one, Unas, stumbled upon their plot, and Qenamun killed him."
Kysen was shaking his head. "Then Qenamun was the dung-eater who tried to kill me."
"Yes," Meren said. "But Qenamun's foolhardiness and our inquiries caused Ahiram to become overwrought, so he killed Qenamun, only to find he'd aroused Tanefer's fury by calling attention to the first murder. Tanefer tried to rid himself of Ahiram at the hippo hunt and failed, and Ahiram fled, thus exposing their intrigue. That was when I finally searched in the right direction." Meren gave his cousin a pained smile. "And that direction leads from Tanefer, through Ahiram, to the priests of Amun."
"We knew nothing of this foul plot against pharaoh," Ebana said at last.
"Why should I believe you?"
Ebana remained silent while he unstrung his bow. Then he began winding the bowstring. "I saved your life."
"Yes," Meren said. "Now tell me why."
Ebana came closer and glanced at Meren's wound. "Perhaps I didn't want you to die."
Meren lifted his brows and waited.
"Perhaps I thought you and pharaoh easier to deal with than Tanefer."
"You were right. Eventually Tanefer would have killed you as well as me."
"And of course, I'm telling the truth. The temple of Amun never plotted against the life of pharaoh."
"What do you want, Ebana?" Kysen asked.
"A bargain."
Meren exchanged glances with Kysen and nodded for Ebana to continue.
"Let us declare a truce between the temple and the court, cousin. We offer an end to all this hidden warfare in exchange for-how shall I phrase it-a cessation of these awkward inquiries of yours. Qenamun was the only priest among the evil ones who have so disturbed the peace of the living Horus."
"Why should I make this bargain?"
"For several reasons," Ebana said. "One is that you've no proof that anyone else from the temple has committed any transgression."
Ebana eyed him as he said this, but Meren wasn't about to agree or disagree.
"Another reason is that with the threat of the Hittites growing and the invasion of all these renegade soldiers and bandits, you can't afford to be at odds with Amun as well."
Meren began to scowl as he realized the truth of Ebana's reasoning. Then his cousin lowered his voice and stepped nearer so that he could almost touch Meren.
"And also, my suspicious, cynical, and jaded cousin, because I might have saved your life simply because it was yours."
Meren studied Ebana, his gaze traveling over that lean jaw, the thin white line of the scar. What real evidence did he have that the priests of Amun had been involved in the desecration of Akhenaten's tomb? Words spoken to him by Tanefer, who was now dead, and who had confided in no one left alive. Fragments from a bowl with mere traces of writing that could be explained away by anyone as clever as Ebana. The murder of Qenamun by Ahiram implied that they had participated in the crime together. Yet without the capture of the actual thieves who had dug into the royal tomb, he could hardly expect the powerful priesthood of Amun to admit guilt.
So far none of the search parties sent after the thieves had found them. Meren suspected that they'd fled by way of the Red Sea already. To accuse Ebana or Parenefer he needed more, and the priests seemed to have concealed their actions well, even Qenamun. Qenamun! The gold pen holder.
"Well, cousin?" Ebana said.
Leaning on Kysen, Meren turned to the house. "Come with me."
He led them back to Ahiram's bedchamber and to the shrine of Ishtar. Releasing his hold on Kysen, he plucked the pen holder from the niche. He swayed a bit, causing Kysen to slip his arm around his waist. Summoning his remaining strength, he opened the top of the case and tipped it. Nothing fell into his hand. Meren stared at the blood drying on the back of his knuckles, then gave his head a little shake. He slipped a finger into the tube and drew out a papyrus wound into a tight roll. He handed the pen holder to Ebana.
"No doubt you recognize this?"
"No," Ebana said.
"Come now. You must have seen it many times in the House of Life."
"Don't be irritating, Meren. I assume you mean this is Qenamun's."
Meren was unrolling the papyrus. He skimmed the flowing script that filled the sheet, studied the name written at the bottom, and lifted his gaze to Ebana's.
"I should have expected him to blame Ahiram and Tanefer and keep silent about-"
Ebana stopped him by reaching out and grabbing his forearm. "Don't say it. You've no evidence, so don't be foolish."
Meren yanked his arm free and handed the papyrus to Kysen, who read it aloud.
"I, Qenamun, lector priest of Amun, call upon the good god as my witness. Amun came to me in a dream and said unto me: Go forth and cause me to be avenged upon the great heretic for his sacrilege. I have done this, with the aid of Prince Ahiram." Kysen broke off. "There's more about Akhenaten's heresy, but no mention of anyone else at the temple."
Wincing, Meren leaned against the wall. "I think he meant this as a record of his greatness, possibly to be put on his tomb." He glanced at Ebana. "But such a text could only be inscribed if someone else besides pharaoh or his heir ruled Egypt."
"Or if pharaoh one day changes his opinion about his brother," Ebana said. "Qenamun might have had a dream about that also."
"By the gods, Ebana, you don't expect me to allow this evil to pass without consequence."
"I expect you to report to pharaoh that Prince Tanefer plotted a revolt against him, that he suborned Ahiram and Qenamun into helping him loot a royal tomb to pay for his war and his treason, and that there's no evidence against anyone else from the temple."
"The divine one will never believe that Qenamun acted alone, that he hired mercenaries and bandits on his own."
"What the golden one suspects concerns me not. Only his actions are of import at the moment. Do you want a truce or not, cousin? And take care that you answer as pharaoh's advisor."
Meren pressed a hand over his wound. The bleeding had stopped, but he needed to see his physician soon. His eyelids felt as heavy as ingots, and he was so weary. But he had to think. A truce between the temple of Amun and the court would allow Tutankhamun to grow to maturity without threat from the only power to rival pharaoh in Egypt. The boy needed time, time to gain strength and wisdom, to build alliances with other princes, other temples, the army.
A truce would make no difference. He would still watch the priests, still not trust them. But perhaps the danger would recede for a while. Certainly Parenefer would cause no more trouble, for fear of provoking pharaoh's wrath again and getting himself killed. Yes, Parenefer and Ebana would live in fear from now on, always wondering when Tutankhamun would decide to retaliate against them. Perhaps a truce would be a good thing.
"I shall consult pharaoh," Meren said. "The welfare of the Two Lands depends upon harmony and balance between the servants of Amun and the son of the god."
He shoved himself away from the wall and stumbled. Kysen was beside him instantly and pulled Meren's good arm around his shoulders. Meren cursed, his eyes closing as he tried to keep his legs from folding. Someone slipped an arm around his waist. He opened his eyes and found Ebana supporting him. His cousin began helping Kysen walk him out of the house.
"Don't look so astonished," Ebana said. "If you die of this small wound, who will speak to pharaoh on my behalf?"