'The rope was under tension, stretched to the limit,' Bak said. 'When it snapped, the upper portion snaked back. It jerked free of the post, wrapped around Dadu's legs, and dragged him across the rocks into the river. It then became entangled in a crack in a boulder. He either struck his head and lost his senses or panicked. Either way, he drowned.' 'What of my ship?' Suemnut demanded.
Neny glared. 'Do you care nothing for the man who died? A husband and a father many times over? A hard- working man of honor and integrity?'
Bak longed to grab them both by the neck and knock their heads together. He had hoped that by finding an innocent reason for the wreck he might put an end to their enmity. Unfortunately, they enjoyed their mutual dislike too much.
'The lower portion of the rope whipped back toward the ship. It wrapped around the boulders, flew across the deckknocking men, brazier, and duck cage into the water-and buried a good, long segment in the bundled hides, pulling the ship up short and jerking it against the rocks.'
'Look!' Imsiba shouted, pointing at the wreck.
The ship, relieved of much of its load and with most of its ballast scattered on the riverbed, had floated free of the boulders. It began to swing across the channel.
'Cut it loose!' Neny yelled. His voice, deep and dark, carried through the still air, reaching the men lining the channel.
'No!' Suemnut wailed. 'My ship! My life! No!'
The men slashing the ropes holding the few remaining hides on deck abandoned their task, dropped into the water, and swam at high speed alongside the vessel. Bollards were jerked free, relea4ng the stout lines holding the ship in the channel. Where the bollards could not be reached, the ropes, too valuable to lose, were axed as close to the hull as possible.
The ship floated downstream, ponderous with the weight of the water it had taken on. Bak feared it would swing farther around, blocking the channel and putting an end to travel down the Belly of Stones, at least for the remainder of the year. But Neny knew what he was doing. The vessel held its course-floundering, to be sure-until a final steep slope of bubbling water carried it into the cove. Becalmed, the stern dropped ever deeper and the prow reared skyward, raising high the intertwined lily design. The men on the promontory held their breath, waiting. The vessel tilted backward, expelling air, and slid beneath the water's surface.
'Sir!' The police scribe Hori raced along the stone quay, his eyes locked on Bak and Imsiba, whose skiff was closing on a mooring post. 'The commandant wishes to see you, sir! Right away!'
Bak muttered an oath. 'Can I not change into clean clothing?'
'I wouldn't, sir.' The chubby youth caught the rope Imsiba threw, made a loop, and settled it around the post. 'A sentry reported seeing your skiff from afar. The commandant's expecting you.'
'You'd best go, my friend,' Imsiba said, with a goodhumored smile. 'I'll tend to the skiff and that morning meal we thought to share.'
Bak rolled his eyes skyward and grimaced. 'What Commandant Thuty wants, Commandant Thuty gets.'
'He has another man with him, sir, a lieutenant from Abu.' Hori's expression remained serious. 'And Troop Captain Nebwa as well.'
'An officer from the land of Kemet?' Bak frowned. 'An inspector, do you think?'
'He looks to be a man with a weight on his shoulders. One seeking aid, not trouble.'
With a farewell nod to Imsiba, Bak walked with the boy up the central of three quays, passing a traveling ship similar to that of Suemnut and a broad-beamed cargo ship riding high in the water, its shallow hull rolling on the gentle swells. A sailor bent over its rail to spit in the water. Another hunkered down beside a brazier, stirring the contents of a bowl nestled among the coals. The odor of onions and fish set Bak's stomach to growling.
Moored at the southern quay, he saw a long and slender traveling ship, built for speed and pleasure rather than to ply the waters laden with merchandise as so many ships did in Wawat. A red-and-white-checked deckhouse and fore- and aftercastles surrounded by delicate railings of papyrus-shaped posts belied a sturdy frame and construction. The prow carried the ram-headed image of the lord Khnum, the god favored by the residents of Abu. Bak was impressed. The officer now speaking with Commandant Thuty had arrived in style.
Ahead, the tall mudbrick walls of Buhen rose stark white in the early morning sun. Towers projecting from the face of the riverside wall rose to the crenelated battlements from two stone terraces lining the water's edge. A sentry stood at the base of the twin-towered gate they approached, passing the time with three small boys. A similar gate to the north was busier. A long line of men trudged down the quay, carrying heavy copper ingots from a warehouse inside the fortress to a ship bound for the land of Kemet. They sang a workman's song, out of tune and of scant musical merit, but if volume was any indication, the words were heart-felt. An elderly, wizened priest, his head shaved bald, sat at the base of the southernmost pylon gate. He sat there often, warming himself in the sun after performing the morning ablutions in the dark chill of the mansion of the local god, Horus of Buhen. Bak saluted the soldier, ruffled the hair of one of the boys, and waved to the priest.
He stepped into the dark passage through the gate, and a cool tingle crept up his spine. An omen, he thought, maybe the lord-Amon himself warning him to proceed with care. He laughed out loud, driving the thought away, and the chill.
The sentry in the entry hall of the commandant's residence pointed Bak toward a flight of stone stairs leading to the second floor. Bounding up the steps two at a time, he burst into the warm, sunny courtyard. The space was cluttered with toys, water jars, loom, grindstone, and a deep basin filled with natron. In the white, salty substance, Thuty's eldest son, a boy of ten years, was dessicating a dog that had been his constant companion until its death of old age. The odor of decay had waned, Bak was glad, to note, so the child would soon be able to wrap for eternity the creature he had loved.
He paused at the door of the commandant's private reception room, where three men sat waiting, no one speaking, as if all they had to say had already been said. The commandant sat in his armchair, a stemmed drinking bowl in his hand, beside a small table laden with bread, beer, cold roast pigeon, and dates. He spotted Bak and beckoned. Troop Captain Nebwa, seated on a low three-legged stool in his favored spot off to the side, glanced toward Bak and nodded. The third man, a stranger to Buhen, occupied a stool in front of the commandant. He, too, turned around to look.
'You summoned me, sir?' Bak asked.
'Lieutenant.' Thuty raked Bak with his eyes, taking in his dirt- and sweat-stained kilt, bandaged hand, and assorted bruises and abrasions. If he was troubled by such an untidy appearance, he gave no sign. 'Have you eaten?' he asked, motioning toward the food on the table.
'At daybreak in Neny's village.' Bak eyed the fare. A bowl filled with the tiny bones of birds told him the other men had already consumed their morning meal. 'Nothing so grand, believe me.'
'Draw a stool close.' Thuty was a short, broad man whose powerful muscles glistened with the oil he had rubbed onto his ruddy skin. His brows were heavy, his mouth firm, his jaw set. A fire burned behind. his dark eyes, reflecting the strength of purpose that had earned him his lofty position.
As Bak selected a pigeon from the bowl and tore a wing from the body, Thuty nodded toward the stranger. 'This man you see before you is Lieutenant Amonhotep. He's come from Abu, sent by Djehuty, governor of our southernmost province in Kemet. He's Djehuty's aide, his right hand.'
Savoring the bird, which was braised to perfection, Bak studied the officer. Amonhotep, a few years younger than Bak, who had reached twenty-five years, was of medium height and slender, with reddish curly hair and green eyes in a thin, serious face. His frame was slight, but well padded with muscle. His brow was lined with worry.
'I've heard much about you, Lieutenant.' Amonhotep gave so brief a smile Bak almost missed it. 'The vizier, who's an old friend of Djehuty, praised you highly when he passed through Abu last week.'
Bak's eyes darted toward Thirty, seeking an explanation, and on to Nebwa. That the vizier, who had recently toured the fortresses of Wawat, had stopped at Abu on his return voyage to the capital was no surprise, but that a man in so grand a position would speak of a mere lieutenant in charge of the Medjay police at Buhen was astonishing.
'Didn't I tell you the great man would spout your praise?' Nebwa gave his friend a lopsided grin, far short of the generous smile that normally accompanied his teasing. 'In no time at all, your fame as a man who stalks human predators will spread throughout the land of Kemet.'
The troop captain, next after Thuty in the line of command, was a coarse-featured, untidy man, tall and muscular, thirty years of age. His belt was twisted, bunching his kilt up on one side. His broad, multicolored bead
