The City of Refuge: Book 1 of The Memphis Cycle (23 page)

Nebamun turned back to Rai. “I'll be late returning to my quarters,” he said. “Don't have anyone wait for me.” He looked about and located Neb-Iry. “Stablemaster,” he said, “I will need two horses and a chariot this evening. A strong team and a sturdy chariot. I won't need a driver. Please have them brought to me at sunset.”

He waited until Neb-Iry had bowed, then turned and went toward the door.

Khonsu moved forward. “I am deeply sorry for all this, Your Grace,” he said. “I'd hoped to give you more warning, but things happened too swiftly for me to do that.”

Nebamun looked blankly at him for a moment with the expression of a man who has been startled out of an absorbing train of thought, then he inclined his head. “Never regret performing your duty, Commander,” he said. “I promise you with all my heart, I blame you for nothing. And now, please excuse me.” He turned and left.

XXXVI

The next two days passed without event. Ptahemhat was placed in the guardhouse by the barracks, but was treated with consideration. His answers to Khonsu's questioning were simple and annoying: he knew nothing of what had happened to Paser, though he fervently wished that he had had a hand in it. He simply could not explain where he had been the night Paser had left. That was all, and since His Grace had promised his help, Ptahemhat was more or less calm.

Rahu, the royal messenger, was brought to Lord Nebamun when he arrived the next morning. He spent some time closeted with him, and then emerged to depart immediately for Thebes with Nebamun's message in his pouch and a thin but solid gold bracelet on his wrist.

And on the second day Mayor Huni of Khebet came in state to Akhet-Aten to request an audience with His Grace the Second Prophet of Ptah.

**   **   **

“I won't receive him,” Lord Nebamun said, lowering his bow and selecting an arrow from his quiver. “I have nothing to say to him.”

He was at the practice course that had been set up by the barracks. While he still moved a little guardedly, his skill had not suffered during his illness: the center of the target of mounded, cloth-covered straw bristled with four arrows that had been shot one after another with impressive ease. “Perineb will receive him in my place,” he said.

“Perineb hasn't been well today,” Khonsu said. “He told me earlier, at the morning service, that he was feeling fatigued. I wonder if Your Grace should admit Huni at all today.”

Nebamun held the arrow with its fletching at eye level and squinted along its shaft. His mouth tightened; he snapped it abruptly with a powerful flick of his fingers and flung it aside. “That would entail Huni's remaining here overnight as my guest,” he said. “And that I won't have. No, Perineb shall deal with him.”

Khonsu hid his surprise. Something was wrong. In his experience, Nebamun did not ignore the ill-health of his subordinates. “I await Your Grace's commands,” he said.

Nebamun shot him a look of grim amusement. “We mustn't be inhospitable,” he said. “Mayor Huni came expecting to see someone, and Perineb is capable of dealing with him, whether or not he's tired. He's a holy man; he has a stronger stomach than me. The audience shouldn't last long: Perineb can plead fatigue. When you leave me, go to Sennefer and tell him to mix a brew that will revive Perineb a little. And do you then, Commander, go to the quays with General Seti and meet this fellow, Huni. Bring him into the city. Show him around. He'll be interested in what he'll see—and then bring him in to Perineb and offer him refreshments.”

“As Your Grace wishes,” Khonsu said. “But—”

Nebamun leveled a spear-straight look at him. “But,” he said, his voice harsher, more clipped than Khonsu had ever heard. “He is to be given no water, salt or bread, and under no circumstances to dine under my roof.”

Khonsu returned his gaze, startled, before lowering his eyes.

Nebamun's voice was kinder when he spoke again after a pause. “I interrupted you, Commander,” he said. “It was rude of me: please forgive me. What did you want to say?”

“The question would have been impertinent,” Khonsu said, raising his head again. When he saw that Nebamun was smiling he said, “Well then, Your Grace, I wonder why you are being so harsh with Mayor Huni.”

Nebamun's eyed him. “Do you?” he asked. “Mayor Huni has done his best to sow fear and panic among my force every time he has come into contact with them. He was the one who spread the stories of ghosts. I am sure he's the one who put the idea of despoiling this city into Paser's mind. For that alone I wouldn't receive him. But there are other reasons that I am not permitted to discuss, even with a man whose quality I respect and value as I do yours.”

The words made Khonsu flush with sudden pleasure, and for the first time in years he found himself stammering.

Nebamun shook his head with a smile. “Go now,” he said. “Meet Huni and do as I ask. But,” He lifted an eyebrow at Khonsu. “Watch him for me,” he said. “Describe him to me. What he said, what he wore. In particular, I want to know what jewelry he wore. Pay special attention to it, if you would, and report to me this evening.”

Khonsu smiled and bowed. “Yes, Your Grace,” he said.

“And Commander—”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Tell Mersu that I'll want him to be present, as well.”

Khonsu bowed and left. He turned as he left the training ground just in time to see Nebamun whip an arrow from his quiver, nock it, and loose it at the target, all within the space of time it took to draw a quick breath. The arrow hung, quivering, in the center of the target.

Nebamun smiled grimly and lowered his bow.

**   **   **

“Indisposed again?” Huni said, his gaze swinging from Khonsu to Perineb and then back. “I hope His Grace doesn't have a serious illness!” Something in his expression made it clear that his wish was precisely the opposite of his words.

“As do we all,” Perineb said. “I am fifth in the cult of Ptah: if you wish to consult His Grace on priestly matters, perhaps I can be of service. Otherwise, I'm authorized to speak for His Grace today on official business.”

Huni frowned and then looked down.

Perineb's voice gentled. “Does Your Honor have anything of a personal nature to discuss?”

Huni looked up. To Khonsu's surprise he was biting his lip. “I do,” he said.

“Very well, then, Excellency,” Perineb said. “I shall ask the Commander and the rest to leave us.”

“No,” Huni said quickly. “No, it doesn't matter. They have heard the worst of this place and its–its ghosts. Now they are reaching out toward me. I need your help.”

**   **   **

“He was a little insulted, Your Grace,” Perineb said later that evening. “But I smiled and said that you were indisposed, and then added nothing else.”

“Did he eat the refreshments that you brought?” Lord Nebamun asked, looking at Khonsu.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Khonsu replied. “We sat in the courtyard, open to the winds, but shaded from the direct sun.”

“Excellent,” Nebamun said. They were in Perineb's bedchamber, and he was occupying a plain, low chair that had been placed close to Perineb's bed. One leg was looped over the chair's arm in an unconsciously youthful pose. “How did His Honor appear?”

Nebamun was looking right at Khonsu, who said, “He was well-fed, as usual, Your Grace. But he was ill at ease.”

“I see,” said Nebamun. “And did you notice what he wore?”

“He wore fine linen, and golden ornaments at neck and waist,” Khonsu replied. “I did take note of his jewelry, as Your Grace asked me.”

Nebamun leaned back and watched him.

“He had two cylindrical necklaces of honor at his neck,” Khonsu said. “He wore a number of rings, all heavy and of fine workmanship, that I could see. A bracelet at his wrist was inlaid with fine lapis around the name of Pharaoh Huy. But the finest piece he wore was a hinged gold bracelet, conical in shape, that reached a third of the way up his right arm. It was inlaid with strips of carnelian, lapis and turquoise. It looked as though it once had a royal name on it, but the name appeared to have been smoothed away.”

Nebamun's eyes blazed, but he spoke calmly. “You're sure of this, Commander?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Khonsu replied.

“Very good,” Nebamun said. “And now tell me: why did he come to see me?”

“He wouldn't say at first,” Perineb replied. “But when he was questioned—I was gentle with him, Your Grace—he admitted that he was afraid.”

Nebamun slowly unwound his leg from its position on the chair arm and straightened. “Afraid?” he repeated thoughtfully. “Of what?”

Perineb shook his head. “Huni's afraid of ghosts,” he said. “He says that he's being pursued by one. He told me that nothing the priests of his town do has helped.”

“What form is this “pursuit' taking?” Nebamun asked. “Ghostly noises? Gliding shapes? Has he considered counting the owls and hyenas around him?”

“Arrows,” said Perineb. “Arrows coming in the night, always with the same message attached to them.”

“His fear has unbalanced him,” Nebamun said. “If he were to think, he'd probably admit that the arrows were most likely shot by a human archer. And as for the letters, he seems to have a persistent correspondent who doesn't trust the system of couriers throughout this realm.”

“The man was in fear, Your Grace,” Perineb said. “He received perhaps six of these messages over the past two years. And then, maybe three months ago they started coming more frequently. As many as one each day, at times.”

Nebamun's slightly vicious smile faded a little. “What did the letters say to frighten him?” he asked.

“He brought one to show me,” said Perineb. “It was written on old papyrus, frayed and worn. The message was only one line, and although it seemed half-obliterated by time, I didn't find it frightening:

You were charged to deliver a message to Neb-Aten. The message was never delivered and Neb-Aten is still waiting for you.”

“He'd best deliver the message, then,” Nebamun said. “And close his door at night.”

“Oh no, Your Grace,” Perineb said. “The messages come through the windows, transfix the doors, hang quivering on the rail of his chariot.”

“He should be glad the arrows don't come to rest between his shoulder-blades,” Nebamun said .

“That fear was beginning to bother him, Your Grace,” Khonsu said. “He came to ask that we make him a charm to protect him against Neb-Aten. He told us that he had been the son of the Vizier whose chair Your Grace usually occupies during your audiences. He gave us full details of his life and death.”

Nebamun smiled and sat back. “Interesting. It was Huni who first told us of Neb-Aten's ghost.”

“I pointed that out,” Perineb agreed. “I also told him that the Blest don't bother those who are blameless. And then I asked him if he could have done anything to anger this Neb-Aten, and he said that he hadn't.” He added with a faintly puzzled frown, “But he didn't sound like someone with a clear conscience.”

Nebamun smiled and shook his head. “Very interesting,” he said. “And what did you do?”

“I gave him an Udjat amulet,” Perineb said. “The man was terrified, and I thought it might calm him a little.” He lay back and closed his eyes, obviously exhausted.

Nebamun looked down at him with a regretful smile. “You have earned a rest, Perineb,” he said. “I'll take over your duties for the next two days. Sleep late and be lazy: you have certainly earned it.”

Perineb opened his eyes and returned the smile. “Yes, Your Grace,” he said. The smile remained as Khonsu and the Second Prophet left.

Outside the door, Khonsu bowed to Lord Nebamun, who had paused, lost in thought. “Good night, Your Grace,” he said. “I'll see to placing the patrols and then turn in.”

“Good night, Commander,” Nebamun said. “And thank you.”

Khonsu turned to leave; the sound of a quiet voice made him turn back.

He saw that Nebamun was frowning thoughtfully into space, unaware that Khonsu was still there.

“The eye of Horus the Avenger,” Nebamun said softly, his hand curved around his own udjat charm. “How appropriate, Huni. Let's hope for your sake that it doesn't turn to a charm of pure fire and burn your guts away. The Gods are not mocked.”

XXXVII

The gods are not mocked.

The whispered words echoed through the cliffs surrounding Akhet-Aten, shimmered along the ripples of the river as it caught the starlight.

The city lay as far below Khonsu as a tiny village might be to a circling hawk. He seemed to bestride the sky, and though he stood on cliffs that rose high, high above the ruined city, they felt less solid than cloud beneath his feet.

The stars were so close, he felt that he might reach out his hands and touch them, the city so distant it would take a lifetime's sorrowing journey to return to it. He gazed toward it again, so empty, desolate…

A shadow fell across him He looked up into fathomless eyes black as a starless sky, smoldering and hot as ruin and famine. They moved unseeingly beyond him and fixed on the city.

It is Set the Usurper
, sighed the wind and the river and the stars as Akhet-Aten lay huddled in silence below him.

A flash of light made Khonsu turn. Dawning in the east like a sun, he saw the form of a man bearing a sword of lightning, with light blazing from the badge at his breast in the shape of a great eye.

It is the eye of Horus the Avenger who fights Set the Usurper, for the gods are not mocked.

The glitter of the night sky wavered and melted into a fell and sullen gleam, like the glint of twilight upon a murky river, running stark along the thin, perilous edge of an upraised sword held in a hand made of darkness and tempest.

Khonsu watched the arc of the blade falling down from the height of stars, cleaving through their cold light, leaving a glittering wake closing slowly behind it.

As it curved downward another blade, bright and golden as the sun, rimmed with fire, rose to meet it. The two clashed, lightning flashing from the impact and sending into blinding highlight the two inhuman faces with fathomless eyes grim and intent each upon the other.

Khonsu cried out and turned away from the vision to the reality of his sleeping chamber in the barracks at Akhet-Aten. As he struggled toward wakefulness he seemed to feel the warmth of a hand clasping his and hear a sweet, remote voice saying quietly,
The murderer cannot escape retribution. Soon or late, in this world or another, the Avenger of Blood will exact the blood-price. For the gods are not mocked, and Horus will always win.

**   **   **

The day following Huni's visit was filled with sun and wind, far removed from the smoldering sense of foreboding that had colored Khonsu's dream. Perineb's subordinate priests began a systematic review of the archives at the temple of the Aten.

Ptahemhat, in his prison, maintained his innocence. Nehesi and Mersu were occupied at the quarry with the task of clearing away all traces of the fall and determining whether the limestone was worth harvesting from the earth.

Sennefer conducted an inventory of his supplies at the House of Life and muttered to himself. Seti, confident of finding information that might lead him to the capture of at least some of the band of plunderers, returned to his sweep patrols of the desert areas.

Khonsu busied himself with supervising the regular patrols of the city and bringing his reports up to date and, in his spare moments, composing a letter to Sherit.

That night the city, for once free of its host of shadows, lay slumberous and peaceful beneath a sky of velvet spattered with stars.

**   **   **

A week passed. Rahu, the royal messenger, arrived with the morning, coming up to the gates of the city at a smart trot and asking to see His Grace at once. He was admitted to Lord Nebamun's presence, remained there briefly, and was finally dismissed. He left with a smile and another bracelet, this one of a size proper for a woman, and went in search of Khonsu. He left Akhet-Aten shortly after, bearing a letter from Khonsu to Sherit.

Immediately afterward Khonsu, sitting on the portico of his headquarters for the expedition and chatting quietly with Sennefer and Seti, who had stopped by on his way out of the city, was advised that His Grace, Nebamun of Memphis, Second Prophet of Ptah, requested the favor of an interview with the Commander of the Army for the Fourteenth Nome of Egypt.

**   **   **

“It is about Ptahemhat,” Lord Nebamun said, disposing himself in the chair offered by Khonsu. “There are many possible explanations for his behavior. I ask you once more, as the second in rank in Ptah's priesthood, to drop the charges and release him.”

Khonsu shook his head. “I can't do that, Your Grace. Ptahemhat must stand trial. He may well be acquitted. I believe he will, but that is for the Governor to decide as Pharaoh's representative.”

Nebamun drew himself up in his chair. “I can't allow that. Ptahemhat had no part in Paser's death. Release him at once.”

Khonsu traded a quick glance with Seti before raising his eyes to Nebamun. “Does Your Grace have any further information on the death, then?”

Nebamun's expression was calm though Khonsu caught a touch of deep amusement. “I do. You have been looking for the man who killed Paser: here I am.”

Khonsu blinked. Seti's was blank with astonishment.

Sennefer stared. “But I don't understand!”

Lord Nebamun inclined his head. “There is nothing to understand.”

“I don't believe it!” Seti exclaimed.

Nebamun speared Seti with a stare that made him blink. “Are you calling me a liar, General?”

Seti was on his feet. “No, Your Grace, I'm not! But you must admit that the circumstances are—” He broke off.

Nebamun's position did not alter. “Do continue, General,” he said.

Seti shook his head.

“The whole thing's impossible!” Sennefer cried.

Nebamun looked over at Khonsu, who was watching them with a frown. “It was perfectly possible. I went to where Paser was—”

Here was something Seti, frozen with astonishment, could grasp. “To where Paser—” he exclaimed. “But where was he? Was he in the city?”

Nebamun froze him with a stare.

“I beg Your Grace's pardon,” Seti continued. “I did not mean to interrupt. But was Paser in the city when you came across him?”

Nebamun considered for a moment. “No. He had left the boundaries of Akhet-Aten far behind. He was dead by my hand shortly after I found him. And to forestall your question, Commander, I didn't see Ruia when I found Paser.”

Khonsu kept his eyes on his hands.” Was it you who struck Ruia from behind?”

The cold stare was turned on Khonsu. “I beg your pardon, Commander?”

Khonsu, baffled by the suspicion that His Grace was enjoying himself at their expense, dropped the line of questioning. “What else happened, Your Grace?”

Nebamun looked back down at his hands and continued. “After Paser had been killed, I took his body, carried it to my chariot, and brought it to a place where it was certain to be found.”

“Why?”

“Why leave him to be found?” Nebamun repeated as though the question amused him. “Because I wanted him to be found.”

“But why—” Khonsu began.

“You are asking me questions that I am not permitted to answer, Commander,”

Seti looked from one to the other. “This is more puzzling by the moment,” he complained.

“What is there to puzzle over?” asked Nebamun. “Paser was killed, and I have confessed to the killing.” He added softly, “I'd do it again if the opportunity arose again.”

“This is ridiculous!” Sennefer objected. “You must have dreamed it! Or be trying to play one of your jokes!”

“Don't be such a fool, Sennefer,” Nebamun said. He turned back to Khonsu. “I surrender myself to you, Commander. Bestow me as you please.” He added with a touch of amusement, “The harem courtyard in the west palace is secure, as you already know.”

“Very secure,” Khonsu said with a wry smile.

Nebamun's amused expression faded. “If I give my word not to try to escape, will it be necessary to chain me?”

“Chain you!” Sennefer gasped. “Your Grace is delirious!” He looked from Seti to Khonsu. “Sunstroke!” he said with sudden decision. “He's had sunstroke! Going out without a thick enough headcloth! Your Grace went into that damned temple with no breath of shade!”

“Stop your noise!” said Nebamun. “I have confessed to a killing. I have raised no objection to any confinement, so why should you? Well, Commander?”

Khonsu was silent for a long time, allowing the question to hang in the air. “I'm not certain that Your Grace needs to be imprisoned at all,” he said finally.

“A sensible man!” Sennefer cried. “What His Grace needs is a strong sedative and a week in the shade!”

“Silence!” said Nebamun.

Khonsu spoke carefully. “Would Your Grace be kind enough to explain your reason for killing Paser?”

Nebamun met Khonsu's gaze squarely. “I have told you that I killed him,” he said. “I am not permitted to offer any explanation.”

“But the manner of his death,” Seti said. “He seems to have fought someone weapon to weapon before he was killed. And the thing that had been clenched in his hand— I don't understand.”

“Forgive me, General. You are asking questions that I am not permitted to answer. I have told Commander Khonsu all that I may tell. It is not necessary that you or anyone else understand.”

“Was anyone acting with you?” asked Khonsu.

Nebamun turned to gaze at him for a long, considering moment. “No, Commander. I acted alone.”

Khonsu's frown deepened. “If Your Grace will bear with me, I must know how Paser was murdered.”

“Paser was not murdered,”

“How you killed him, then,” Khonsu corrected.

“I crushed his skull with a weapon,” Nebamun replied. “It took two blows.”

“What weapon did you use?” Khonsu pursued.

“I used a heavy, blunt instrument. I discarded it after I was finished.” And he shut his lips firmly on any elaboration.

“But what sort of instrument?” Khonsu demanded.

Nebamun's eyes were warm with suppressed amusement. “You are asking questions that I am not permitted to answer, Commander.”

Khonsu leaned forward. “You said it was not a murder. Did you kill Paser in self-defense?”

Nebamun sat back to think. “No,” he said at last. “I wouldn't call it
self
-defense.”

“I see,” Khonsu. leaned back against the wall and looked down with raised eyebrows at his steepled fingertips. “Then you waylaid him and killed him by stealth.”

Nebamun lifted his eyebrows at Khonsu. “You know me better than that, Commander. I have told you what I have told you. I surrendered myself to you willingly. I will answer no further questions.”

“Your Grace is mad!” The sentence threatened to become a refrain for Sennefer.

Nebamun rounded on the physician. “Stop your babbling!” he snapped. He turned back to Khonsu. “Perineb has been leading the sacerdotal functions of this expedition all along, and he should continue to do so. As the leader of the provincial army force, you are in overall command with General Seti as, your immediate junior. I suggest you assume sole command until further notice. Since the quarries are not likely to be worked within the foreseeable future, I would recommend that General Seti employ his force in patrolling the area around Akhet-Aten, as far afield as he sees appropriate.”

Seti nodded silently.

Khonsu had sat back with his arms folded, frowning before him. He lifted his eyes to Lord Nebamun's. “So be it. I will report this as you said: you killed Paser and discarded the weapon.”

The warmth of Nebamun's smile startled him. “I'm satisfied,” said the Second Prophet. “Imprison me where you will. And release Ptahemhat. I know he's been fretting. Now: before I go to my prison, may I first return to my quarters and gather some things that I may need?”

Khonsu looked over at Seti and then shook his head, caught by the hesitant nudge of an idea. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I think it is best if you go directly from here to wherever you are to be confined. I...don't know where that will be at the moment.” He added, “If Your Grace will give me a list of your needs, I'll collect them for you”

Nebamun inclined his head.

Sennefer turned from staring wide-eyed at Nebamun. “Come outside Commander, and you, too, General. I need to speak with you at once!”

Khonsu nodded. “With Your Grace's permission...”

Nebamun was sitting quietly with one hand holding the Udjat amulet. He raised his eyes to meet Khonsu's with the hint of a dark smile. “I am your prisoner, Commander. You don't need my permission to do what you must.”

**   **   **

“Where will you send him?” Sennefer demanded once they were outside, and out of earshot of the door.

Khonsu pushed a hand through his hair. “Where will I
imprison
the
Second Prophet of the entire cult of Ptah
? A man, all other things to the side, to whom I owe an
immense
personal debt? I have no idea at all! Do either of
you
have any suggestions?”