collar had worked its way around so the falcon-headed clasp lay on his left shoulder. His stingy smile, his failure to continue his needling, indicated a distinct lack of enthusiasm for whatever had brought Amonhotep from Abu.
Thuty remained mute, strangely hesitant to explain the officer's mission.
Bak, curious, suspicious, wary of the two officers' reluctance to speak up, dropped a thigh bone into the dish, licked the oil from his-fingers, and asked, 'You summoned me for a purpose, sir?'
Thuty's eyes slewed toward the officer from Abu. 'The tale is best told by one who knows firsthand what happened.'
'How should I begin?' Amonhotep ran his fingers through his reddish curls. 'Three members of Djehuty's household have met with an unfortunate death in a single month, one in the river near the governor's villa, the others within the compound in which the house stands. The first two seemed unlikely accidents, but we accepted them as such. Who wants to believe anything more abhorrent? The third was murder without question, a man found dead with a dagger in his breast. To Djehuty's way of thinking-and mine-that final death makes the first two suspect.'
He stared at Bak as if expecting agreement. Bak let nothing show on his face. He had too few facts to reach any kind of conclusion.
'The last killing occurred one day before the vizier arrived,' Amonhotep continued. 'Djehuty, naturally upset by so recent a death, told the vizier of it and the other two. That worthy official was as disturbed by the tale as are all of us who reside in the villa.' He paused, shook his head as if to rid himself of a bad dream. 'The vizier thought of you, Lieutenant Bak. He told Djehuty how clever you are at laying hands on men who turn their backs on the lady Maat. He suggested we seek your help.'
How clever I am? Bak thought. Suddenly he understood the young officer's mission, and his heart sank. The tale was intriguing, the puzzle it posed a challenge. But only if he journeyed to Abu could he hope to identify the slayer-and placate the lady Maat, the goddess of right and order.
'Djehuty is a proud man,' Amonhotep said, 'one accustomed to depending on his own resources. Yet how could he turn his back on the suggestion? Without help, we can do nothing. We've no one to point to, not a shred of proof that all three lives were taken at the hands of a slayer. So Djehuty agreed. He ordered his traveling ship provisioned for a voyage, and the day the vizier sailed north to the capital, I sailed south to Buhen. Now here I am after eight long days on the river, pleading my case to your garrison officers.' He leaned toward Bak; his voice grew hoarse with emotion. 'And to you. Will you, Lieutenant Bak, return with me to Abu?'
Bak stared at the officer, his thoughts racing. He liked nothing better than to follow the path of a slayer, searching out tracks often hidden by time and cunning, closing in on the one he chased, and snaring him. He had done so several times in Buhen, and he had gladly traveled south to the fortress of Iken to investigate the death of an officer. Unlike Iken, which fell within Thuty's command, Abu was a world away, the domain of another man, Djehuty, who had summoned him. Would he be free to move as he liked or would his hands be tied by authority? Would he get help from the garrison should he need it, or would he be forced to stand alone? Would those he spoke with be bound to answer his questions or would they laugh in his face and turn their backs to him?
More important by far: would he be free to return to Buhen after laying hands on the slayer? Would he, could he, lay hands on the one he sought?
He glanced at the commandant, but before he could sort out his questions, his doubts, Thuty stood up, walked to the door, and stared out at the courtyard. After a long silence, he swung around. 'This, I feel, is a matter best discussed in private, Lieutenant Amonhotep. Leave us.'
'Yes, sir.'
Thuty stepped away from the door to let him pass. 'I'll summon you within the hour with my answer.'
As the young officer's footsteps faded away on the stairs, Bak opened his mouth to speak.
Thuty raised his hand to silence him. 'As you well know, Lieutenant, the vizier is not a man to accept refusal. You must go to Abu.'
'But, sir…'
Thuty slumped into his chair. 'I enjoy my rank as commandant and thd, authority I hold here in Buhen and along the Belly of Stones. I dream some day of rising to the rank of general and standing at the head of a regiment.' He picked up his drinking bowl, stared into its depths, set it down again. 'Not only might that dream vanish if we ignore the vizier's wishes, but I might well be posted to Kush or Hatti or some other faroff and disagreeable land. It goes without saying that you'll walk beside me, wherever I go. Shall we take the risk?'.
'No, sir.' Given no other rational choice, what else could Bak say? 'All I ask of you is a promise.'
Thuty's eyes narrowed. 'What might that be?'
'While in Abu, I wish to remain under your command.' Nebwa gave Bak a quick nod of approval, lowered his gaze and, suppressing a smile, stared hard at his outstretched feet. He had guessed Bak's purpose and applauded it.
Thuty, taking care not to look at Nebwa, pursed his mouth in sham disapproval, though his pleasure was evident. 'Your reasons, Lieutenant?'
'First, it will set me apart from others within the governor's household, allowing me to remain a free agent. Second, if I should fail in my mission or pose a threat to one who walks the corridors of power, neither Djehuty nor anyone else in Abu will have the authority to punish me for something beyond my control. Finally, I wish to return to Buhen and my Medjays when the task is completed.'
Thuty planted his elbows on the arms of his chair and eyed Bak over entwined fingers, stretching the silence as if mulling over the idea. 'I see no reason why I can't loan you to Djehuty for a few weeks. Let me summon a scribe and bind you in writing to my command.'
Bak, seated on a mudbrick bench, stretched out his legs and leaned back against the white-plastered wall, savoring his last few hours in Buhen. The courtyard was sunny and warm, unusually quiet for so late in the morning, with no customers patronizing Nofery's house of pleasure.
The sound of a broom moving briskly across the floor could be heard in the front, most public room in the house, while a soft snore came through a portal to the rear, where the younger women slept.
'You leave _ tomorrow?' The query came from a third open door, from which the smell of roast goose drifted. Beneath a lean-to, which shaded half the court, a young lion cub lay sprawled, licking its paws and cleaning its face. Its ears pricked at the sound of its mistress's voice, but it never paused in its ablutions.
'At first light.' Bak's eyes began to twinkle. 'Too early, I fear, to bid you goodbye-unless you'd prefer I awaken you.'
Nofery came out the door, scowling. 'The very thought is abhorrent.'
Mice scurried unafraid through the straw and the palm frond roof over the obese old woman's head, competing with sparrows for seeds and nest materials. She transferred her scowl to the movement on the roof, then glanced critically at the lion. Her eyes soon darted around, and she spotted a stool, which she dragged close to Bak. She plopped down, her heavy legs and ample buttocks making the stool almost disappear.
'It pains me deeply to admit it, Bak, but I fear I'll miss you. All the bar you consume, the humor you so often exercise at my expense, the use you make of my knowledge and friendships, the…'
Bak reached forward and pinched her fleshy cheek. 'Be silent, old woman. Tears will flow from my eyes if you go on with your confession of fondness.'
She slapped his hand away. 'Fondness, indeed! It's the demands you make that I'll miss. Like I'd miss a toothache.' 'How would you ever manage without me?'
'None too well, I'd guess.' Nebwa sauntered in from the front room, holding in each hand two pottery beer jars, their plugs already broken away. 'If you hadn't made her your spy when first you came to Buhen, she'd still be eking out a living in that hovel in the outer city.'
Nofery lifted her head high and sniffed. 'Will you never learn tact, Troop, Captain? I've no regrets about days gone by, nor do I wish to relive that life in words.'
Chuckling, he sat on the floor beside her and handed her a jar of beer. 'Drink, my little dove. Drown your sour disposition in the finest brew in Buhen.'
Imsiba followed Nebwa into the court, carrying a small basket lined with leaves. 'If the beer won't cheer her, perhaps this gift sent by Sitamon will put a smile on her face.' Sitamon was Imsiba's beloved, an attractive young woman he planned soon to take for his wife.
He handed the basket to Nofery and joined Nebwa on the floor. She folded back the leaves to reveal a dozen or more small cakes made of crushed dates and nuts, dripping with honey. Her eyes. locked onto them, and she
