licked her lips. They were her favorite delicacy, a fact Sitamon knew well.
'So…' Nebwa demanded, winking at Bak, '… are you going to eat them all yourself or will you share a few?' Flashing him a contemptuous look, she handed the basket over. He took a sweet and passed it on. Bak and Imsiba refused the offer. Sitamon had meant them for Nofery, and she should have them.
She helped herself and took a bite, delighting in the taste and texture. 'Would that I could go to Abu, too,' she said, her voice tinged with yearning.
Bak gave her a surprised look. 'How many times have you told me you prefer Buhen to any other place?'
'Can I not sometimes feel a longing for my homeland?' She frowned, as if unable to believe he could be so obtuse. 'Can I not dream sometimes of returning to a valley of broad green fields and prosperous villages and cities where men and women walk the streets clad in fine linen and exquisite jewelry?'
Bak knew she had long ago been a courtesan in the capital, a creature of beauty who had lain with the most lofty men in the land. She seldom mourned the past, but now and again memories lay heavy within her breast. He asked, 'Have you ever heard of Djehuty, sired in Abu and now governor of the southernmost province of Kemet?'
Distracted by the question and pleased he had consulted her, she licked the honey from her fingers. 'Djehuty. Hmmmrn.' Absentmindedly, she reached for another sweet. 'Yes, son of a nobleman. One who also served as governor of the province, as did his father before him. And his father's father, so I heard.' She took a bite, chewed. 'Djehuty, sent as a boy to the capital to rub shoulders with the royal children. An only son, I seem to remember, spoiled by his mother and father alike. A stubborn youth, who did as he wished, heeding no one's advice, ofttimes taking upon himself authority too great for his age or abilities.'
Nebwa snorted. 'Sounds a true son of the nobility. I hope for your sake, Bak, he's outgrown such childish, headstrong behavior.'
'I'll find out soon enough. We sail at first light tomorrow, and if the gods smile on us, we'll arrive in Abu nine or ten days hence.'
Imsiba eyed him across the top of the beer jar. 'Would that I could go with you, my friend.'
'And I, too,' Nebwa said, raising his jar to Bak. 'No slayer alive could hide his guilt for long with the three of us…' He glanced at Nofery, read the hurt on her face at being left out, smiled. '… and Nofery hot on his trail.'
Bak shook his head at what he knew was impossible. 'Kasaya and Psuro will go with me. With no rank to get in their way, they can ask questions of all those men and women who might answer me with silence, thinking me a threat to their masters. Besides, I trust both with my life, and so should you.'
Nebwa's eyes darted Bak's way. 'You don't think it'll come to that, do you?'
'I don't know.' Bak gave him a rueful smile. 'Amonhotep has added nothing to what he told us in the commandant's presence. Djehuty, he claims, has tied his hands, saying he prefers to tell me the tale himself, filling in the details. The reason, Amonhotep refuses to give.'
'How can he blind you to the facts?' Imsiba asked, indignant.
Nebwa gave the big Medjay a long, thoughtful look. 'I think we must find an excuse to follow Bak to Abu. To walk with a friend along a familiar sunlit street is one thing; to walk alone with strangers down a dark and unknown path is foolhardy.'
Chapter Two
Bak crossed the gangplank and stepped onto the landingplace, a natural stone shelf flattened to suit the needs of man. With Lieutenant Amonhotep in the lead, he traversed the smoothed surface in a half dozen steps and climbed a long flight of stairs cut into the natural stone of the island of Abu. At the top, he turned to look down upon the sleek traveling ship that had carried them north. The long stretch of rapids just upstream of Abu had proven no obstacle to the agile craft. Instead of men letting the vessel down through the rocky channels with ropes, as was necessary in many parts of the Belly of Stones, a pilot had come aboard to sail it among the many small islands and down swift and foaming passageways that, though less hazardous than those near Buhen, were still dangerous.
Bak waved at the two Medjays standing on deck amidst the baskets and bundles of supplies and weapons they had brought from Buhen. Psuro, a man of good sense and courage, close to thirty years of age, was thickset in build, with a face scarred by some childhood disease. The younger of the pair, Kasaya, was the biggest and strongest man in Bak's unit, not greatly gifted with intelligence, but good-natured and likable. They would stay on board until Bak obtained suitable quarters for the three of them.
The journey from Buhen had been pleasant, a lazy time of fishing from the deck, swimming, eating, and sleeping. He and Amonhotep had talked about everything but what lay uppermost in their thoughts: the death of three people in the governor's household. He could not imagine why Djehuty had silenced the young aide. It made no sense.
Curiosity had nagged him throughout the voyage, but now that the time had come to learn exactly what he faced, he hesitated to walk into the villa. Taking a deep breath, shoving aside his apprehension, he strode toward the arched gateway built into a long bare wall, behind which tall palms waved in the breeze and leaves rustled on sycamores and acacias and several other varieties of tree. Very little of the house, which was located near the center of the walled compound, could be seen from where he stood. A second story, much smaller than the first, perched atop the rear rooms. A donkey brayed somewhere in the distance, and two yellow curs snarled at each other across a dirt-encrusted bone. The odors of roasting meat and baking bread wafted through the gate, a siren's bounty beckoning him inside.
'I've nothing to fear.' Djehuty stared at Bak, daring him to argue the point. 'Why should I? The first two who died were peasants, people I doubt I'd have recognized if I met them on a lane outside these walls. The third was a soldier I respected, admired in many ways, but not a man I invited into my private rooms.'
Bak offered a silent prayer of thanks to the lord Amon for the scroll he held in his hand, and another to Commandant Thuty for preparing it. From what little he had seen so far of Governor Djehuty, he would need it. The man thought of no one but himself.
'Sir, as a result of your summons, I've spent nine long days journeying north from Buhen. I've been told three men of this household have died, yet I've been given no details. I know only that two of the victims could as easily have lost their lives as the result of an accident as at the hands of another. Have I come for nothing or for a purpose?'
Djehuty, a tall, white-haired man, angular of face and body, thrust himself forward in his armchair. His eyes glinted; his words came out in a dangerous purr. 'Your voyage north was comfortable, Lieutenant?'
'I fished most of every day, sir, and slept.' Bak knew if he allowed himself to be intimidated now, this man would never let him go about his task without interference. Djehuty would try at every turn to manipulate him and would then demean him as one too weak to stand up for himself. That he could not permit. 'The time would've been better spent if you'd not silenced Lieutenant Amonhotep, if he'd been free to tell me of the dead men and describe the way they died.'
Djehuty's mouth tightened. 'Impertinent young…' 'Sir!' Amonhotep stepped forward, drawing the governor's angry scowl. 'Commandant Thuty was very reluctant to lose Lieutenant Bak, even for a few weeks. We must make the most of his time here. Who knows how long he'll be able to stay?'
Picking up on the hint, Bak stepped to the base of the dais on which Djehuty sat and offered the scroll. 'I've a document for you, sir, from Commandant Thuty.'
The governor glowered at the papyrus roll and the man who held it. Bak could guess his thoughts. In theory, a governor held more power than a commandant, but this particular commandant of Buhen was known to be a personal friend of the viceroy of Wawat and Kush, a man whose responsibility for the movement of trade and tribute gave him the ear of the vizier and, more importantly, of their sovereign, Maatkare Hatshepsut herself.
Djehuty formed a cool smile and leaned back in his chair, hands resting on the arms, thus forcing his aide to take the document, break the seal, untie the string, and pass it on. As the governor unrolled the scroll and began to read, Amonhotep sneaked a cynical glance at Bak.
To hide his contempt for such trifling displays of authority, Bak half turned away from the dais and glanced around the audience hall. Swathes of light from high windows struck four tall palm-shaped columns supporting the
