keeping time to a tune he alone could hear.
Ipy inched forward. 'I'll go each day to the shrine of the hearing ear behind the mansion of the lord Khnum, sir, and I'll pray on bended knee for your well-being for ever and ever. I'll make offerings of food and drink, of flowers and incense. Then I'll go to the other shrines of Abu, each and everyone, seeking for you and yours all the good things of life. Health, wealth, happiness…'
'We know, Ipy.' Amonhotep glanced toward Bak but made no sign of greeting. 'You've vowed to pray for the governor each time you've approached this dais. You've no need to repeat the promise.','
Scooting forward again, Ipy bowed his head. 'I sometimes backslide, sir, forgetting to pray as I've said I would.' His head shot up, his voice rang with sincerity. 'But this time, I'll not break my word. I'll throw down my tools and leave my workshop, letting my customers wait for the pots I've promised. I'll let my wife wear rags and my little children suffer hunger. All so I can spend half of each day on my knees. So I can…'
Djehuty's eyes darted around the room, as if seeking relief. He noticed Bak, grimaced, looked back at the petitioner, and his voice turned testy. 'What is it you want, man?'
'You're wise and noble beyond your years, sir. I trust you always to make a right and proper judgment, to aid all who need help, to.. '
Amonhotep stepped forward. 'That's enough, Ipy. Either make your petition or leave us.'
'But, sir, I was just trying to…'
'Guard!' Djehuty stood up and pointed. 'Take this man away,' he commanded. 'I've no time to listen to foolishness.' He gave Ipy a venomous look. 'A few days' imprisonment should teach him the value of short and concise speech.'
A guard hurried up, grabbed Ipy by the arm, and jerked him to his feet. The craftsman's sly smile faded. His eyes darted from Djehuty to Amonhotep to the guard, registering confusion and fear.
'Sir,' Amonhotep said, 'Ipy's been here before, more than once. You know he meant no harm. If you let me speak with him, I'm certain he'll tell me the reason he's come again, and he'll do so with no further nonsense. Why lock him up if there's no need?'
Djehuty, his mouth tight and determined, waved his hand, signaling the guard to take the craftsman away. The guard stood where he was, looking from the governor to his aide as if unsure what he should do. Bak guessed from his failure to respond immediately that Djehuty's quick anger and Amonhotep's attempt to moderate were not new to those who stood in the audience hall day after day, watching the proceedings.
Djehuty glared at the officer, the guard, and finally the craftsman. Not until Ipy began to whimper did he drop back into his chair. 'Alright, Lieutenant, if you want to waste your time with this spawn of a dog, you may do so.'
The guard released Ipy's arm and pivoted. As he did so, he winked at his colleague standing before the double doors, verifying Bak's guess that Amonhotep often tempered the governor's hasty decisions.
'They try my patience, Lieutenant.' Djehuty closed his eyes and rubbed the lids, a man utterly exhausted by the pressure of duty. 'If I could sit on this dais and judge matters of importance brought before me each day by men of substance, I'd feel my task of some use. But all too often, a week will go by-a month even-and no one comes before me with any petition more weighty than that of that dolt Ipy.'
'Yes, sir.' Does the man believe justice thrives solely for those of lofty birth and position? Bak wondered.
'My father sat in this chair, as did his father before him and his before him. I often wonder if they had some special way of maintaining patience.'
Bak shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unable to think of an appropriate response. In fact, he was not sure the governor expected one.
As if roused by the silence, Djehuty's eyes popped open and he looked at the younger man as a schoolmaster would a pupil he suspected of whispering behind his back. 'Are you aware that my family goes back all theway to Sarenput, who was governor of the south and hereditary prince during the reign of Kheperkare Senwosret many generations ago?' He stared at Bak as if daring him to doubt. 'Yes, young man, I have royal blood coursing through my body. The blood of those brave and noble men whose houses of eternity look down upon Abu from the hillside on the west bank of the river.'
'I've seen them from afar,' sir.' Bak longed to get on with his pursuit of the slayer, but too abrupt a dismissal of Djehuty's heritage might seal the man's lips forever. He regretted Amonhotep's hasty departure with Ipy. The aide appeared quite adept at manipulating his master.
'Sarenput had his eternal resting place excavated among other, far older sepulchers, those of men who governed this province when the land of Kemet was young and Abu stood on its southern frontier.' Djehuty clutched his long baton of office, leaning against the chair beside his leg, and his expression grew wishful. 'Maybe they, too, were my ancestors. Would he have chosen to dwell forever among strangers?'..Sir… '
Djehuty sat back in his chair and smiled, cheered by the possibility, unlikely as it was, of so long a regal lineage. 'Fortunately, my distinguished heritage has given me a strength of character few men can claim and the fortitude to do what I must, no matter how distasteful. Take that man Ipy, for example…'
'That's why I've come to you now, sir,' Bak said, leaping through the door the governor had unwittingly opened. Djehuty's eyes narrowed. 'Oh?'
'If I'm to find the man who's slain five people, you must help me.' Remembering Antef's admission that he had pushed Djehuty too hard, thereby sentencing his troops to unending duty at the quarries, he spoke with the honeyed tongue of a nobleman who has spent all his days in the royal house. 'I realize you've a multitude of tasks, all far more weighty than you're willing to acknowledge, but if you could spare me some time and the benefit of your experience and knowledge, your insight, you might set me on a path I've up to now failed to find.'
Djehuty stared at the man standing before him. Bak feared he had gone too far.
'When first I saw you at the back of the hall, Lieutenant, I looked also for a man in shackles, thinking an officer so fast to find a pattern in these crimes would be equally quick to lay hands on the slayer.' Adopting a fatherly manner, Djehuty chuckled. 'Now, with no prisoner in tow, your initial confidence seems to be wanting.'
Biting back a sharp reply, nearly choking on it, Bak did his best to sound like a dutiful officer, not a humble servant. 'I freely admit I know scarcely more now than I did at this time yesterday, when the servant Nefer came with word of mistress Hatnofer's death. Sir.'
Djehuty's mouth tightened at Bak's near lapse in courtesy. 'I told you all I knew when first we spoke. I've nothing more to add.' He stood up, gripped his baton, and stepped down off the dais, forcing Bak backward. 'Now, as you yourself have pointed out, I'm a busy man. My daughter Khawet must already have servants waiting to bathe me.' He strode across the pillared hall with the same air of purpose he might have used to approach a formal dedication.
Bak kept up with him step for step. 'Will you tell me, sir, anything you've done that could've set off this string of deaths? An incident that may not have seemed significant to you but was important to someone else? Possibly resulting in a threat?'
Djehuty's step faltered, but only for an instant. 'I've done nothing wrong. Nothing.'
'Men have hinted that you've a secret, one all who know you are either afraid or ashamed to repeat.'
'All lesser men wish to tear down the stronger, Lieutenant, hinting at weaknesses that burden them alone. Surely a man as experienced as you can sort the grain from the chaff.'
Bak stopped, demanded, 'Do you want to die, sir?' Djehuty, his face flaming, pivoted and raised his baton, ready to strike. Realization came to him, the knowledge that Bak was another man's man, and he whipped the baton down, making it whistle through the air. 'You want to know what secret I harbor in my heart, Lieutenant?' His lips twisted in a sneer. 'I don't like you. Nor do I like the insinuations you're making. If I hadn't sent a message to the vizier, telling him of your arrival, I'd send you back to Buhen before nightfall.'
Bak's eyes met Djehuty's. The governor tried to hold the stare, but could not. He looked away, seeking escape, and strode rapidly to the door.
No, Bak thought, you're not worried about the message you sent to the capital. You're afraid to die. And you know of no one but me who has the slightest chance of laying hands on the slayer before he comes for you. The slightest chance? Perhaps no chance at all unless 1 can soon break down this wall of silence.
Bak followed Djehuty out the door, but turned left at the first short passage. At the end, he came upon a large room, its ceiling supported by two tall brightly painted lotus-shaped columns, with high windows admitting light. Ten scribes sat cross-legged on the floor, each surrounded by the tools of his trade. The reed pens darting across the regular columns on their scrolls sounded like birds scratching in a pile of spilled grain.
