City of the Dead (15 page)

She looks as though she wants to pull away, but she does not.

“I have something for you,” I say, touching the pouch tied to my waist. “But first you must tell me the truth.”

Her eyes hold fear. “How are we any better, Hemi?”

“Better?”

“Than them. Khufu and Amunet.” She leans away, though does not break my grasp on her. “To speak like this, to always try to be together. How is this any different than what they do? Could Khufu not say the same as I? That I have betrayed him?”

“He is senseless to it, Merit. That is the difference. You do not flaunt your fickle affections for the world to take note. You cannot change the way you feel.”

She does pull away now. “But I
must
change it.”

I will not let her go until I hear the truth. “Tell me, Merit. Tell me how you feel.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and I realize that caring for me has brought her pain. But I am young and I would rather have my affection returned than see my beloved happy.

She studies my face, then my shoulders and chest, then all of me. My mouth goes dry.

“I wish that you were the prince of the blood!” she says, then dares me with her eyes to protest.

Our heavy breaths mingle in the damp silence between us, an invisible embrace. But it is not enough. I pull her to me, hold her there until I see surrender in her eyes. I feel the tension flow out of her, and she lifts her face. Her lips graze my jaw, and I know nothing more than Merit, her eyes, her hair, her mouth. She returns my kiss with the quiet passion I have sensed so often in her.

The sky darkens around us, but in a haze of bliss, I pull the amulet from the pouch and circle her neck with it. She turns and lifts her hair, exposing her neck to me. I tie the cord well and kiss the skin beneath the knot.

Then she is in my arms again. But the impossible truths loom over us, and I feel her ka retreat. My hunger rises to call her back. I kiss her again, feeling the desperation.

“Hemi,” she whispers, “we should join the others.”

“They are occupied with the hunt.” My voice is muffled against her hair. The cloud of birds rises.

She resists. “You must let me go.”

“Merit.” Her name is at once painful and beautiful. “I cannot.”

I find her lips again with my own, and she allows me a moment. But then she senses what I know to be true: I am not in control of myself. She backs away, fear clouding her eyes.

And then she runs.

Ebo was correct. Evil approaches.

* * *

Khufu and I remained for some time in his chamber with the body of Ebo. I felt it necessary to make a thorough examination of the body, but I began with the surrounding area.

“Who found him?” I asked.

“I did.”

“Here?”

“Yes. I returned from meeting with a few noblemen in the Great Hall, and he was there.” Khufu pointed. “Just like that.”

“Did you remove the mask?”

Khufu rubbed his eyes. “I knew it was him. But I needed to see for myself.”

“And then you replaced it?”

“I did not want to see his face longer than I must.”

I flexed my shoulders. “I want to examine the body.”

“Of course. I will remain here though.”

It was a strange way to express his desire to stay, as if he expected me to chase him out or thought I had something to hide.

Or perhaps it is he who is hiding something.

The floor around the body yielded no clues, and I moved on to Ebo’s body, beginning with his work-worn feet. Behind me, I heard Khufu sit on the stool again and knew that he watched my every action. I tried to remain detached.

Thankfully, there was no blood on the body. Strangely, there appeared to be no injuries at all. I ran my fingers firmly over Ebo’s
legs and bare torso. The action felt oddly intimate though I had known this man many years. His body had cooled. I examined the throat, unmarked, and the reposed face, where I saw nothing amiss but the old scar across his forehead.

I thought to check his hand and was surprised to find the finger missing, despite the pattern established by the killer. In the absence of blood I had not though of it at first. I pondered this, but it told me nothing.

The mask was the same as the other two. High-quality gold from Nubia, hammered smooth. Blue lapis lazuli eyes inset and glowing. On the back, the mark of Anubis.

Khufu’s stool scraped the floor, and I jumped. The silence in the chamber had numbed my senses.

“Anything?” he asked.

“I do not know how he was killed. There appear to be no injuries. Even strangulation or suffocation would leave bruises on the neck or marks of some sort.”

We sat in silence for some minutes, each lost in our own thoughts. I crossed my arms over my bent knees. A weariness fell over me, and I lowered my head beneath the weight of unanswered questions and possibilities. Gradually, a thought surfaced. I lifted my head.

“There is a peculiar smell in here, Khufu. Have you been burning some different sort of incense?”

Khufu shook his head.

“A new type of perfume for your hair?”

“Nothing, Hemi. And I don’t smell anything.”

I shimmied toward the body and sniffed. “It is stronger here.”

Khufu joined me and inhaled. His brow furrowed for a moment. “It makes me think of the temple.”

I closed my eyes and focused on the scent. And the temple.

My eyes flew open.

“It is a drug! Such as the priests use on small animals before they lay them out for sacrifice.”

Khufu wrinkled his nose in concentration, then nodded. “You may be right.”

I leaned over the body once more and this time used my two fingers to open Ebo’s mouth slightly. In doing so, I noticed tiny white flecks at the corners of his lips that I had missed. I sniffed his mouth, then sat back. “He has been poisoned.”

Khufu stood, then returned to his stool and dropped his face into his hands. “Eight of us went out that day, Hemi. Including Ebo. Now four of us remain.” He lifted his head. His eyes were like two points of light in a dark sky. “And one of us is a killer.”

I stood. “I will call a priest to remove Ebo’s body.” I looked toward the window. “Your people are frightened. They have heard that this victim is one of them.”

Khufu snorted. “He was hardly a peasant! He was chief servant of the Beloved of Horus!”

“Even so, it would be best if you were seen by them, if you spoke words of comfort.”

Khufu sighed. “Tomorrow.”

Part of me longed to remain in his chamber. The tomb-like silence had remained unbroken since I entered. Ebo was the only one who would dare enter this sanctuary without permission, and he was already here. This place felt safe, sealed off from the rest of Egypt and from whatever truth lurked out there waiting to be revealed.

But the divine order would not be denied, and I was learning that ma’at will be restored whether we assist her or not. There had
been a disorder in Egypt since that day long ago, and it would not be left alone.

I stepped across the threshold finally and made my way out of the palace. As I crossed between the pair of massive statues, a woman bustled toward me out of the dark. She slowed as she saw me. A thin woman, she nevertheless managed to block my way.

“What have you done?” she said. Her lips trembled when she spoke.

It took me a moment to recognize her as Ebo’s wife.

“I am very sorry for the loss of your—”

“Sorry! You are sorry! No doubt it was for your secrets that he died!” She clutched at her throat with pale fingers.

“My secrets?”

“Do not pretend with me! I wouldn’t care if you were the Great One himself. Ebo told me of your bribes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The money. A great deal of it. Ebo told me that you gave him money—to thank him for his discretion, for keeping your secret all these years.” She shook a fist up at me. “He was loyal. Always loyal! And this is how he is repaid? Ma’at will find you, Hemiunu! Ma’at will find you and deal with you!”

I had more questions than answers. I believed that perhaps Tamit knew more than she had told me. I sought her out the next day at midday and was told by her head servant that she had taken her son’s meal to him at the princes’ school. I located her there, in the schoolyard where the boys had just been let out from their lessons and were still whooping for joy at their temporary freedom.

Tamit stood at the side of the yard, watching the celebration. Like animals loosed, the boys ran in all directions, unsure where to go first. Kawab, Merit’s son and heir to the throne of Horus, and Tamit’s son ran together like brothers, reminding me of Khufu and myself when we were young.

I joined Tamit and she glared at me. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Her son ran to take his rolls and small jugs of beer. He stared at me a moment, and Tamit stepped behind him and crossed her arms around his upper body.

“I don’t want you here,” she said to me.

“We must find answers, Tamit.”

She wore a thick collar of gold, with jewels like tiger’s eyes. The jewels caught the sun and shot a shaft of light into my eyes.

Tamit leaned down to whisper in her son’s ear. “Go and play with your friends.” She gave the boy a tiny shove, and I watched him skip across the yard to where four boys drew concentric circles on the ground to begin their games.

Tamit’s fingers dug into my arm. “In here,” she said, her voice guttural.

I allowed her to pull me into the donkey stall at the edge of the schoolyard. The sharp stench of manure watered my eyes.

“You said something the other day—” I began.

“I said many things!” Tamit’s eyes darted to the boys, then back to me. “I do not wish to be part of this.”

“Then you have heard about—”

“Everyone from Libya to Sinai has heard of the Scourge of Anubis, Hemi.” She rubbed her upper arms as though chilled. “But only a few of us know the truth lies in the past.”

I gripped my staff. “And that is where the answers will be found.”

Tamit stepped away from me. “We do not speak of that day.”

“I
will
speak of it, Tamit!” The words flew from me like shards of limestone, as though the stones that walled off the past had begun to crack apart, and the tide of truth would soon rush in to drown us all.

She stepped back and a shadow seemed to pass over her face.

“When we spoke last, Tamit, you told me that Merit seemed bothered by me. What did you mean?”

Her eyes narrowed, like the tiger-eye jewels at her throat. “She wanted Khufu to get rid of you.”

I rubbed at the dampness at the back of my neck. “Why would she—”

“She didn’t trust you any longer.”

I thought of the amulet around my neck, still tied to her thigh when she died. “I do not believe you.”

Tamit laughed, the sound more like the hiss of a snake. “No, of course you would not.” She stepped toward me, chin up. “She did not like the influence you had on Khufu. The way you convinced him to declare himself Ra on earth. She thought it blasphemous for a man to call himself a god.”

I looked away. This fit with what I knew of her recent preoccupation with all things religious.

Tamit poked a finger into my chest. “Even the grand vizier is subject to the laws of Egypt.”

I returned my attention to her beautiful face, now twisted into a snarl.

“She rejected you,” she said. “And she turned on you. It seems clear to me that only one man had reason to kill the Great Wife.”

* * *

I stalked the courtyard of my own estate, unable to sit, though the day had been long. Tamit’s accusation still stung. Khufu’s fear. Ahmose’s strange threats.

The pretense must end. None of them had the courage to speak the truth. To follow the truth, no matter where it led.

And so I would begin it.

I circled the courtyard once again, more focused on my plan than the growing chill of desert darkness. My stomach churned with thoughts of what was to come.

First, Khufu. It had to begin with Khufu, as it had all those years ago.

I pulled up short, determination flooding my veins. I would not wait another day. The truth would be known tonight.

The cool breath of the desert snaked into my courtyard and seemed to coil around my ankles. My eyes shifted to the front of my house, sensing someone’s entrance.

“Grand Vizier?” In spite of the respect of the title, the voice was authoritative, demanding.

“Who is there?”

A soldier stepped out of the dark hall. “The Beloved of Horus, the Beautiful Silver Hawk, commands your presence in the Great House immediately.”

All the better.

“You may tell him that I will be along shortly.” I needed a few moments to compose my thoughts.

“I am to escort you there directly, Grand Vizier.”

I studied the soldier’s face, his pockmarked cheeks and set chin. “Has something happened?”

“I do not have information, only orders. Pharaoh will not wait.”

“Very well.”

I grabbed my staff from where it leaned against the wall and was made to follow the soldier, but he stepped aside to place me in front of himself. We stood at odds for a moment, until I acquiesced.

We walked in silence. What did it mean that Pharaoh had sent for me? That he had sent a soldier to bring me on foot rather than a litter to carry me on the backs of slaves?

No matter. Tonight was about truth, not pride.

We crossed through the royal estate, a city unto itself. The moon hung heavy over the pyramid tonight, like a watchful eye, full of portent. I thought of Merit, of Mentu, and of Ebo. Of the secrets we all carried. And I felt the weight of what was to come.

I expected to be taken to Khufu’s private chamber. Instead, once inside the palace, my armed escort prodded me toward the king’s private audience hall.

I was the last to arrive.

Three others stood among the carved columns, speaking in quiet tones. They turned at my entrance. Khufu did not smile, nor did Tamit or my brother.

My escort faded away behind me.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Tamit has demanded audience,” Khufu said. “She is not certain of her safety.”

“I am not a fool!” Tamit said. Even as I crossed the hall, I could see her eyes, white and wide.

Ahmose nodded to me, a tiny movement of his head that I might have missed had I not been watching.

“I am glad you are all here,” I said, pausing to gain control of the conversation. “It is time for us to speak of it.”

Only one brazier had been lit in the hall tonight, and our shadows played across the columns, with their happy painted figures in reds and yellows and greens in gruesome contrast to the four of us eyeing each other in dread.

Tamit crossed her arms in front of her and shivered. “We are all that is left,” she said. “Only four.”

Khufu looked at the floor, and I could see his throat constrict with an effort at swallowing. “It means nothing,” he said. “It
could still be that the Scourge of Anubis chooses his victims at random.”

I tried to catch his attention, to ascertain what had caused this change since we spoke over Ebo’s body.

Tamit snorted. “Foolishness.”

My brother remained silent, his lips pressed together and the muscles in his jaw locked tight.

“You think one of us has killed these three?” I said to Tamit.

“Four,” she said. “Who else had reason?” Her eyes sparked and her voice pitched slightly higher.

I returned the glare. “And what reason do any of us have?”

She regained her composure and looked away, toward the columns with their pleasant scenes. “To hide the truth.”

“Then let us have the truth now.” I raised my hands to Ahmose and Khufu, who remained apart. I could read neither of their faces. “If we are to discover who has killed these three whom we loved, we must first know the truth about the death of Amunet.” I nodded to Tamit. “Your sister.”

Khufu paced away from us, his gaze directed upward to the star-splashed painted ceiling. Tamit concentrated on the floor, and my brother simply closed his eyes.

My blood rose to beat in my ears, and a twitch began in my right eye. “We no longer have the luxury of secrets!” To Tamit and Ahmose, I said, “We must speak what we know, what we suspect, regardless of titles and authority. We must go back, back to the time when we were young and equals, and speak the truth!”

Tamit raised her head. She licked her lips twice, and a flush crawled up her neck. “I believed from that day that Khufu killed my sister.”

From his place a few cubits away, Khufu groaned.

“But now,” Tamit watched me like a lion about to tear apart its prey, “now I am not certain.”

I sensed Khufu’s quick turn of the head.

“And what has changed your mind, Tamit?” I asked, trying to resume the role of dispassionate interrogator.

She turned to face me fully and raised a pointed finger. “Because you had reason to kill Merit.”

Khufu was beside us now, his attention on me. I took a step back and glanced at Ahmose.

“You think I killed Merit? What possible reason could I have to kill Mentu and Ebo?”

Tamit smiled, as though the prey had been cornered. “So you do not deny you had reason to kill Merit.”

“I cared for Merit very much!”

She laughed. “Oh, yes, we all know how much you ‘cared for’ Merit from the time we were young.”

The single brazier seemed to throw off more heat than the room required. A bead of sweat ran down the channel of my back.

Tamit turned to Khufu. “Since we are speaking plainly, did you never notice the attention paid your wife by your grand vizier?”

Khufu’s gaze traveled between us. “He loved her. I know that. And he would not have harmed her.”

“No? Even if she came to you with doubts about his ability to advise you?”

Khufu blinked and studied me. “Did you know that she came to me with these concerns?”

I took a deep breath and found my voice. “I know now. I did not know it before her death. Even so, I would not—”

“She rejected him,” Tamit said. “He tried to force himself on her, and she would not have it.”

Khufu’s hands turned to fists at his sides. “Is this true?”

“I was young, Khufu. You were not yet king, she was not yet your wife—”

Khufu swiveled back to Tamit. “Do you speak of when we were young? Or of the present?”

She shrugged. “Does it matter?”

I wanted to shake her. “Speak the truth, Tamit! Merit never told you that I acted improperly toward her. You were not even her friend. Your jealousy—”

She turned on me, her upper body leaning toward me. “Jealousy! Why would I be jealous? Do you think I wanted
you
?”

The words were spat at me with disdain, but I wondered. Could that have been true? I pushed the thought away as self-aggrandizing. What would Tamit want with me?

“Stop!” Khufu said, his hands spread between us. “Even if Hemi was hurt by Merit, felt betrayed by her, I do not believe he would have killed her. And why Mentu? Why Ebo?”

“We speak in circles still,” I said. “We must discover the truth of what happened to Amunet before we can find answers for the present. Tamit, do you truly believe I killed Amunet?”

She chewed her lip. “How can I know what happened so long ago?”

We were accomplishing nothing. It was time to face the past. I lowered my voice and began. “We returned from the water, where Khufu rode the hippopotamus,” I said. I could feel the recoiling of all three as I spoke. “Khufu, you decided we would break apart for birding. You and Amunet went off together, and Ebo followed you. Mentu went with the two of you,” I pointed to Ahmose and Tamit. “And Merit and I were alone.”

Our little group grew tighter, as though we instinctively huddled to keep the truth from spreading outside our tiny circle. A silence fell over us, no one willing to take the story further, to accuse or to deny.

We remained in silence for some moments, and so it was a fright to us all when a strident voice pierced the audience hall. “No more secrets!” the voice shrilled.

We broke apart as though guilty of some conspiracy.

Ebo’s wife flew across the audience hall, arms swinging. “I have spoken to the priests!” Her voice shot to the ceiling and reverberated back to slap us with its accusations. “I must tell what I know, though I am a peasant and you are grand vizier!”

I breathed slowly through my mouth. I had told no one of this woman’s revelation to me yesterday.

She eyed Ahmose and Khufu, giving no attention to Tamit. “He was paying my husband,” she said. “Paying him to remain silent about what he knew!”

Tamit ran long fingers through her hair and pursed her lips. “Who is this woman, Khufu?”

Ebo’s wife shot her a look, surely noting Tamit’s use of the king’s name. She threw her shoulders back and tilted her chin upwards.

“She is the wife of Ebo,” Khufu said. His eyes found mine and I saw confusion painted there.

“Ebo, who is now dead, no doubt because of him!” She pointed at me, and I felt the strength drain out of me. “He kept your secret, but still he is dead.”

“What secret?” Khufu’s words were for the woman, but his eyes were on me.

“I do not know! How should I? My husband was loyal. He wouldn’t tell even his loving wife what he knew that was so terrible. But I do know this,” she said. “This secret bothered him terribly. And I believe he thought it was not right to keep it. But he was a man of honor!”

Khufu nodded to the woman. “He was faithful, and you need not be concerned for your future, woman. You will be cared for. And justice will be sought for your husband. You may go.”

Her anger seemed to deflate, along with her bravado. She bowed low once, then backed out of the audience hall.

The other three watched me, even Ahmose, who had remained so quiet it was as though he wished to be unseen.

“I do not know what money the woman speaks of,” I said. “I never paid Ebo any money.”

Tamit huffed. “You had reason to kill Merit, who was attempting to remove you from your position. You had reason to kill Ebo, whom you were paying to keep a secret he was thinking of revealing. Perhaps this secret was that you killed my sister.”