He descended upon the tomb-makers' village like a lion upon a herd of oryx. Storming down the path into the valley, his charioteers banged on the gates with their spears while he cursed the delay caused by the necessity of traveling by foot through the hills and cliffs. Someone opened the gates, and his charioteers thrust them back. Meren charged through them and stalked up to a man standing at the front of a crowd of villagers, who had dropped to their knees upon seeing his bronze and gold armor and weapons.
"I am the Eyes of Pharaoh. Where is my servant?"
The man bowed to him. "I know not, lord."
"Find him at once."
A search of the entire village failed to produce Kysen. Furious, Meren rounded on the man to whom he'd first spoken.
"Who else is missing? Quickly, fool."
"Th-the woman Beltis, a painter called Useramun, the sons of the coffin maker Pawero, the draftsman Woser. Others are in the Great Place for their shift."
Meren gripped the hilt of his dagger and spoke through his teeth. "Damn you, where have these people gone?"
"I know not, lord. Your servant retired as we all did. I thought he was asleep until you came."
"Who are you?"
"Thesh, lord, scribe of the village."
Abu emerged from a crowd of villagers pushing a man in front of him. This man supported another, who stumbled and whined as he walked.
"Ramose and Hesire, sons of Pawero, lord. I've ques tioned them and others. None of them knows where your servant is."
Meren's hand worked open and closed over his dagger hilt. He thought furiously. All of the missing villagers had had dealings with Hormin in making his tomb. The tomb. Tomb robbing. Apprehension turned to dread. His heart pounded against his ribs as he realized what must have happened. Kysen had found the murderer-or the murderer had found him.
'Thesh," he barked. "You will show me the way to Hormin's tomb at once."
They sped over the hills and across valleys of shale and limestone like shadows of wind-driven clouds. Each second, each moment when Thesh hesitated to take his bearings, stretched his control near to breaking. They raced down yet another hill into a valley sheltering the ruins of a temple.
Something moved behind a broken column, and Abu shouted. Drawing his sword, he thrust his body between Meren and the column as charioteers rushed past them. Charioteers pounced on a man leaning on the column and dragged him from behind it. Half-conscious, he slumped between two guards.
"Useramun?" Thesh stepped forward and shook the man's shoulder. "He's been hurt, lord."
As Thesh spoke, the painter slumped forward. The guards lowered him to the ground. Swearing, Meren directed them to take the painter back to the village. Without further delay he raced after Thesh, who clambered up another hill, only to drop to his knees at its summit. Meren joined him.
The scribe pointed. Dawn approached; with the sky lightening, he could make out a small cliff into which had been cut the entrance to a tomb. It appeared deserted.
Every moment he delayed risked Kysen's life, yet he couldn't rush down there with his men and warn his quarry. He would go himself. But what if no one was there? Shoving aside his fear, Meren signaled to Abu that he and the others should wait. He could see that Abu thought he should allow one of his men to explore, but he couldn't sit on this hill while his son was in danger.
Quietly, taking care not to dislodge rocks and peb bles, he worked down the hill and sped to the base of the cliff. Rushing the last few steps, he flattened himself against the side of the entrance. Torchlight flickered, and Meren said a prayer of thanks to the gods.
Drawing his dagger, he slithered inside. At the base of a set of stairs that led to a ramp, he paused, listening. Solid rock blocked off sounds from the outside, and he could hear nothing from the burial chambers below. A sputtering torch turned the limestone walls gold and the ceiling black. He put his foot on the ramp, and heard a woman shout.
"I told you to kill him, you fool!"
Then she screamed. Meren launched himself down the ramp. Running hard, he careened into an antechamber. The woman Beltis hurled herself out of the coffin chamber at the same time, and they crashed into each other. Meren grabbed her and hurled her aside as he heard a distant commotion.
He rushed into the coffin chamber. Nothing. He stood in front of a red granite sarcophagus, confused and desperate. As he looked wildly around the chamber, he heard the sounds of a fight again and then silence. Rounding the sarcophagus, he found a hole. He knelt and peered inside at rich destruction. A golden shrine lay before him, along with burial furniture, a chariot, wine jars, scattered jewelry, broken spears, and baskets.
To the left of the shrine was a gilded couch, which was occupied. Kysen! Kysen lay as if he'd fallen on the couch, his hands bound before him and his head bleeding from a wound at the back.
Wary, Meren waited, hardly daring to breathe, as he searched the lamplit chamber. He heard someone moving behind the shrine. Meren silently dropped down into the chamber and hugged the wall of the shrine. Edging toward the corner, he looked around it just as a man walked from behind it toward Kysen carrying an alabaster wine jar. His shoulder and arm muscles rippled as he raised the vessel above his head and aimed for Kysen.
Meren moved out from the shrine and cocked his dagger arm back, but the man turned suddenly and heaved the jar at him. Meren caught a brief glimpse of his face before the jar hit him. Woser! The vessel hit Meren's arms as he threw them up to protect his face. The blow sent Meren staggering backward, stunned, to land on the floor by the shrine.
He sat up and shook his head. Across the room, the draftsman sprang at Kysen, who dodged aside and tripped the man. Falling, Woser lashed out and gripped Kysen's ankle as he tried to flee. Kysen fell, but rolled and kicked Woser in the stomach. The draftsman grunted, curling in on himself for a moment, while Kysen turned and crawled toward Meren.
Meren had managed to grip one of the doors of the shrine to lever himself upright. As he did so, Woser pounced on Kysen. Meren watched his son fall halfway between the couch and the shrine.
Woser wrapped his arms around Kysen, and they rolled across the floor over fragments of broken jars and furniture. Meren took a step toward them and staggered against the shrine again, dizzy. When he regained his balance, he saw Woser straddling his son.
The draftsman had the end of a broken spear in his hands. Kysen gripped Woser's wrists in both hands and was holding off a death blow with fading strength. Wiping the blood from his eyes, Meren spied his dagger lying on the threshold of the shrine.
He dove for it, stood, and hurled it at Woser. There was a loud thud as the point embedded itself in Woser's bare back. The draftsman jerked, then froze; the spear in his hands quivered. Then Kysen shoved hard, and he toppled sideways. Meren stumbled over to Kysen, who lay on his back half-pinned by Woser's body. Shoving the dead man aside, Meren lifted Kysen into his arms.
"You're all right?" Meren asked.
Kysen's voice was weak. "He was going to shut me up in here."
Behind them Abu dropped from the hole into the burial chamber and rushed to them. Kneeling, he peered from Meren to Kysen.
"No lectures," Meren said. "I shouldn't have come without you."
"Aye, lord. We have the woman."
"Then help us out of here, man. I've had enough of- damn."
Kysen slumped in his arms. Meren laid him on the floor, and Abu probed the wound at the back of his head.
"He's weak from loss of blood, lord, but he will re cover. You know how head wounds bleed."
"If he dies, I'll flay that woman alive, with a flint knife."
"Yes, lord, but he's not going to die."
"Good, because I've already killed this night, and I've no stomach for more."
Refusing to leave Kysen in the care of Thesh and his wife, Meren sailed downriver with him to the royal precincts. From the dock he summoned a litter, and soon he had deposited his son in bed, Beltis in a cell, and himself in his own chamber. He left orders for Hormin's wife and son to be held until he could assure himself that they, too, hadn't been involved in the looting of the rich tomb.
Having left men to guard it, he could afford a few hours' sleep after receiving assurance from his physi cian that Kysen's wound wasn't serious. Like the dregs of old beer, echoes of fear for Kysen disturbed his sleep. He awoke bleary-eyed and apprehensive. Only a visit to his sleeping son's room dispelled his anxiety.
His first act was to dispatch runners to the palace and the Place of Anubis announcing the capture and death of the murderer of Hormin, for he had no doubt that Woser had been the killer. A full explanation would have to be extracted from Beltis, however. He didn't look forward to the ordeal. Talking to Beltis left him feeling soiled.
It was also urgent that he find out whether, by some curious happenstance, Hormin and the others had been involved with the queen's treason. The possibility was remote, but real. As he dined on shat cakes and roast duck followed by figs and grapes, he was preparing to send for Beltis when Kysen walked in, carefully, trailed by Remi's nurse, Mutemwia. She waved an ostrich-feather fan at Kysen and shook a sistrum.
"Out, out, demons of the dead."
Kysen winced as the little cymbals mounted on the sistrum chimed. He cast a glance of appeal at Meren, who clapped his hands for silence. Mutemwia subsided, but muttered charms under her breath.
"I'm sure Kysen values your concern and care for him, Mut, but you're hurting his head."
"Better a sore head than one possessed by a dead spirit."
"Mut, you may conduct your spells and charms in Kysen's bedchamber, but not in his face."
Mut bowed. "As you wish, lord."
After she left, Meren dragged his ebony chair to rest before the worktable, found a cushion for it, and pointed. Kysen sat, grimacing as he lowered his body. Meren leaned on the worktable and surveyed his son. Kysen was pale, and his eyes had violet smudges beneath them, but he appeared strong.
"How are you?" Meren asked.
"A thousand fiends of the underworld are dancing on drums in my head."
"You are supposed to be in bed."
"I know you must have the truth from Beltis, and I know part of it, perhaps enough to shake her."
"Don't you think all these hours spent alone in a cell will have intimidated her?"
"In truth, Father, I suspect she's used the time to think up lies to save herself. But I may be able to rout her."
"Very well." Meren sent for Beltis and returned to Kysen. "I'm doing this because you won't rest easily until we have the whole truth, and because I must know for certain that this qeres unguent came from that tomb and isn't a royal or sacred supply." He quickly told Kysen about the queen's treason and the unguent.
As he finished, Abu entered and stepped aside to allow the concubine Beltis to come in. A guard behind the woman shoved her into the room and shut the door while Abu took up a scribe's kit from a shelf and squatted on the floor so that his kilt stretched tightly across his lap. Placing a piece of papyrus on this surface, he inked his reed pen and waited.
Beltis hadn't noticed Abu. She was glancing from Meren to his son and back again, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Meren let the silence stretch out. This woman had almost killed Kysen, and he was having a difficult time restraining the desire to strangle her and cast her into the desert for the vultures and hyenas to devour her flesh.
He noted with satisfaction that her upper lip was sweaty. She toyed with a bracelet at her wrist with quick, jerky movements. At last she burst out in speech.
"Woser forced me to come with him!"
Meren only lifted one brow and continued to stare at her.
"He planned it all," she rushed on, "days ago, he planned it all. Hormin wanted another room in his house of eternity, and when the laborer began cutting the back wall to test the strength of the rock, he knocked through the side of another tomb. But I knew nothing of this until Hormin told me, the day before he died."
Kysen glanced at Meren. "That, at least, is probably true."
Meren tapped his fingers on the worktable, ignored Beltis, and mused, "I seem to remember that a laborer fell to his death in the Great Place recently."
Beltis skewed her gaze away from him, but he waited.
After another few moments, Beltis's endurance broke again. "Hormin told me he made Woser kill him. He didn't trust the laborer, and anyway he didn't want to-"
"Share?" Kysen asked.
"Yes." Beltis cast a sideways glance through eyes that had almost closed. "But I knew how great a sin he'd committed. I knew it was wrong, and all along I urged my master to relent and seal the old tomb. But he wouldn't listen to me. I prayed day and night to the gods, but he wouldn't listen. Woser was to take jewels and other valuable things from the tomb and bring them to Hormin at the Place of Anubis."
"He went, but never came back with the jewels," Kysen said. "You must have been furious to find him dead and the riches gone."
"But I didn't kill him," Beltis said, her face lighting up with triumph. "You know who did. I'm innocent."
Meren laughed and shoved himself away from the worktable. He walked around Beltis, inspecting her dirty shift and dusty hair. She pursed her lips. He knew she wanted to spit at him and dared not.
"Innocent of Hormin's death, perhaps."
"I don't understand," she said.
"I see you've forgotten that Bakwerner and Djaper are also dead."
"Also killed by Woser in his mad efforts to conceal his guilt," Beltis said smoothly.
Meren glanced at Kysen, who leaned back in his chair and smiled at Beltis. The woman stirred uneasily at this sign of contentment.
"Father, do you know how active our Beltis has been at the village?"
"No," Meren said. "Do tell me."
"Our Beltis is a locust. She hops from man to man. And she wanted me to see her do it. She flaunted her relations with Useramun the painter and with Thesh and Woser. And then she came to me."
Meren lowered his lashes so that he didn't reveal his anger to the concubine. The thought of that woman in terfering with Kysen fed his wrath and disgust with her.
"Possibly," Kysen went on, "possibly she thought I would wilt like a plucked lotus once she'd bedded me. A stupid presumption, but then her experience is limited."
"It is not!"
"For after she'd gone and I overheard Useramun and Thesh, I began to think about all of us-all of us favored by the concubine." Kysen listed the names on his fingers. "Hormin she used for what he could provide. But the others, Useramun and Thesh, they are men of appeal, each in his own way. When she went to the tomb-makers' village, she could enjoy herself with men of much greater beauty than her master. Even I am more pleasing than Hormin."
Beltis gave them a complacent smile, which vanished at Kysen's next words.
"But not Woser."
Meren laughed as he perceived Kysen's reasoning. "Not Woser indeed. Skinny, beak-nosed, lacking in wealth."
"Yes," Kysen said. "If you were to stand us in a line, we who have been favored, Woser alone does not belong. I knew Beltis tolerated Hormin because of his possessions rather than his appearance. She favored Useramun and Thesh for their beauty, for they offered her no wealth. Woser certainly wasn't going to change his looks." Here Kysen paused to watch Beltis wipe perspiration from her chin. "But perhaps he offered something else."
"Your head is broken," Beltis said with a sniff. "These are fancies of sickness."
"After I realized how solicitous you'd been to a man you ordinarily wouldn't allow near your rubbish heap, I decided to watch you more closely. But you slipped out of the village last night without me seeing you. Perhaps with the aid of a ladder as did Useramun. But I did see the painter, who suspected you of killing Hormin. He followed you. I followed him."
"I told you," Beltis said, her voice rising. "He forced me to come with him."
"You forget," Kysen said. "I saw you, and more importantly, I heard you. You were the one giving the orders. Looting that tomb was your idea. And in any case, I'm sure he told you about the tomb when he gave you the broad collar."
Beltis shook her head. Kysen stood up and faced her.
"Hormin had promised you more riches, and you weren't going to let a small detail like his death separate you from them. Woser feared demons more than scorpions or the plague. But you didn't, and you browbeat him and cajoled him and threatened him until he consented to help you steal from that tomb."
"I didn't."
Meren joined Kysen in standing over Beltis.
"Odd," he said. "Kysen, didn't you tell me that Woser said as much while he was in the tomb with you?"
Kysen nodded, then winced as the movement pained him.
Meren folded his arms over his chest and mused. "Didn't you tell me that she threatened to reveal that Woser killed Hormin?"
"Yes, Father."
"Which made Woser feel most ill-used, considering that he hadn't meant to kill Hormin in the first place."
"Lies!"
Kysen sneered at the woman. "Woser was too fright ened to lie. Every moment in that tomb was agony to a man as terrified of spirits and demons as Woser."
Meren began to stalk Beltis, sensing her fear and slipping control. She backed away from him, protesting her innocence.
"Woser was puke-scared. So puke-scared that he couldn't leave his bed the last few days-especially after his fight with Hormin at the Place of Anubis. Which means he couldn't have gone to Hormin's house and killed Bakwerner or Djaper. He didn't even know that those two were a threat. That leaves you, Beltis. You knew Bakwerner made a scene and said that he knew things. He wasn't speaking of the old tomb, but you panicked and killed him in case he'd discovered something."
Beltis backpedaled as Meren came at her, shaking her head.
"Woser was sick," Meren said as he moved toward the concubine. "He didn't know that Djaper had discerned the significance of that broad collar. Djaper found out, didn't he? Clever, clever Djaper reasoned it out. He knew the collar was made incomplete on purpose for inclusion in a burial."
Beltis backed into a shelf on the wall and edged away from Meren.
"He wanted a share, didn't he?" Meren asked. "He told you he knew about the necklace, and that he wanted a share. Did he want too much? Or couldn't you stomach sharing at all once you realized Hormin was gone?"
Meren said this last as he backed Beltis into a corner.
She yelped. "No!"
Kysen sighed and carefully reseated himself in Meren's chair. "I grow weary and bored, Father. Let us stick hot brands on her face until she bleats out the truth."
Both he and Meren covered their ears at the shriek that issued from Beltis's red lips. In a heart's beat Abu was recording the true tale of the death of Hormin the scribe.