looked flat and the crevices shallow. The tower-like projections merged into the background and much detail was lost. A thin haze, minute particles of airborne dust, turned the cliffs an unnatural pinkish purple, further obscuring all but the most outstand-ing features. The heat was pervasive, the sand hot beneath his sandals.
The malign spirit had twice used rock slides as a means of destruction, and Bak could think of no more spectacular a way of creating further devastation and fear than a slide originating high up the face of the cliff. Along much of the way, rock and debris would plunge harmlessly onto the tower-like projections, but he could see several chute-like places where a slide could fall unimpeded onto the memorial temple of Maatkare Hatshepsut. One had but to look at the ruined columned hall at the rear of Nebhepetre Montuhotep’s temple to see what damage could be done.
“Menna.” Pashed, standing in the sunlight at the top of the ramp leading to the temple, looked out across Djeser Djeseru, thinking of all Bak had told him. “Yes. I’ve always thought him a man who’d go to far greater lengths to attain his goals in a less than admirable fashion than to exert himself by earning his bread in a hardworking and diligent manner.”
Bak gave the senior architect a surprised look. “You never said.”
“You surely noticed he seldom visited Djeser Djeseru. Or any of the cemeteries of western Waset, for that matter. If I’d not taken control, the guards here would’ve spent much of each day playing knucklebones and throwsticks, drinking beer and wagering. As it was, they neglected their duty at night.”
“Afraid of the malign spirit.”
Against his will, Bak looked at the cliff towering above the temple. He saw no movement along the rim, no man poised to start a rock slide, but his skin crawled as he thought again of the possibilities for destruction.
“I could hardly blame them for that,” the architect said grudgingly. “They were but a few among the many.”
Laughter, a sound incongruous under the circumstances, tugged Bak’s glance to the north end of the lower colonnade, where a gang of men were increasing the height of the rubble ramp in the expectation of hauling up another stone block and placing it on top of a partially completed column.
“Montu would’ve known even better than Menna how best to do damage to Djeser Djeseru.”
Pashed did not appear surprised by the suggestion, but gave it some thought nonetheless. “He was indolent, yes, selfish and arrogant, and cruel in his own way, but I never thought him so callous he’d slay men at random.”
“Someone did, and I’d bet my best kilt it was either him or Menna.” A darkness consumed Bak’s heart, a feeling of sadness-and rage-that one man could be responsible for so much needless death and injury. “If one of them didn’t, the fishermen or Imen did at their leader’s instruction.”
Pashed’s voice turned harsh with anger. “I’d like to slay them all with my bare hands.”
“Imen can do no more harm. If the fishermen haven’t run away, they may well come today, drawn by Senenmut and the desire to do damage. And I’ve summoned Menna. .” A wry smile flitted across Bak’s lips. “. . with a promise that the two of us will snare the malign spirit, he and I together.
Whatever the truth, I’ll find it, and your troubles will be over.”
“I wish I could be as certain as you.”
Bak tamped down his irritation. Over the past few years, Pashed had shouldered far too much adversity for any one man. He had every right to be pessimistic. “There’ve been four attempts on my life, Pashed. Whether Menna is the malign spirit or the fishermen are walking in the shadow of a dead man, they have to know their time is running out. If they’re determined to bring about an accident serious enough to stop construction, they must do so without delay.
What better time than when Senenmut is here?”
“Senenmut has the ear of our sovereign.” The worry lines deepened in the architect’s face, alarm seeped into his voice.
“He’s her right hand, much beloved. How can we let him walk into what could be a deadly trap?”
Bak had explained once that Maiherperi and Amonked had both tried to dissuade Senenmut from coming. He saw no need to repeat himself. “Move as many of the men as you can away from the cliff, and remove the craftsmen from the sanctuary and side chapels. I know, because of Senenmut’s inspection, that you can’t take everyone away from their tasks, but do the best you can.”
Looking harried, pushed to the limit, Pashed nodded.
“You must go from one chief craftsman to another, from one foreman to another, and tell them to be extra alert for anything out of the ordinary, any problem. We may not be able to stop altogether what they plan, but with luck and the help of every god great and small, we should be able to contain the damage.”
“Where will I find you should I need you?” Pashed asked, too worn down to offer further resistance.
“Utter not one word of what I’ve told you,” Bak cautioned, not for the first time. “I must speak with Menna before the men learn he could be the malign spirit. I don’t want them attacking an innocent man.”
“I’ve always been one to behave in a right and proper manner, to obey the law of the land and do right by the lady Maat, but in this case. .”
“No.” Bak placed a hand on the architect’s wrist. “What good is the law if men take punishment into their own hands?” He noted Pashed’s troubled demeanor and said no more. The man’s conscience would lead him to reveal nothing-or so he prayed.
He started down the ramp, remembered a question he had failed to ask, and turned back. “Do you know anything about the tomb of a woman called Neferu, spouse of Nebhepetre Montuhotep?”
“Neferu?” Pashed shook his head slightly, as if to clear away his troubled thoughts, at least enough so he could speak of a less bothersome subject. “Hers was the first sepulcher we came upon in this valley.”
Bak gave him a sharp look. “Kaemwaset knew nothing of it until he found mention of it in the archives. Has he not been priest from the day construction began?”
“He wasn’t assigned to Djeser Djeseru until after our sovereign laid the foundation deposits and the chief prophet consecrated the valley. We found the tomb a few months earlier, the day we inspected the landscape to learn the extent of the effort we must make to give the building a firm base.”
Bak nodded his understanding. “You were here at the time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where exactly is the tomb located?”
Pashed pointed eastward and a bit to the left of the temple of Djeserkare Amonhotep and Ahmose Nefertari. “At the base of the slope below the cliff, north of an old wall partly buried in sand that runs alongside the temple.”
“How did you find it way out there?”
“The mouth of the tomb lay open.” The architect eyed the terrace below them, the incomplete statues and architectural elements, the many men toiling there, and a look of pride blossomed briefly on his face. “You must remember that before this project began, this valley was seldom visited by man or woman much of the year. Only during the Beautiful Festival of the Valley. Oh, a few women came to bend a knee at the shrine of the lady Hathor, and the cemetery guards made random visits. The robbers must’ve felt they had the place to themselves.”
Bak well remembered how empty and desolate the valley had been when, as a small boy, he had accompanied his father’s housekeeper to the shrine of the lady Hathor. “What did you find inside the tomb?”
“As was apparent the moment we laid eyes on the open shaft, robbers had been there ahead of us. Not once, but several times. Much of the devastation we found in the burial chamber had occurred many years before, many generations ago, but a small niche looked as if it had been opened recently. What had been removed, we had no way of knowing.”
Bak was willing to bet his iron dagger that the jewelry he had found in far-off Buhen had come from that niche. If so, the malign spirit and his gang had already entered Neferu’s tomb and rifled it. It could not possibly be the one they were searching for-or had found but had been unable to clear.
“The tomb was quite lovely,” Pashed went on. “Senenmut ordered it temporarily closed, to be reopened later. He’s not yet decided if the terrace will be extended beyond its entrance, but he plans to make it accessible so all who come to Djeser Djeseru will be able to visit the sepulcher of our sovereign’s worthy ancestor.”
An admirable goal, Bak thought, especially since Maatkare Hatshepsut’s forebears had no blood tie to Nebhepetre Montuhotep, and probably not to his spouse either.
“I must leave you, Pashed, but I wish to be told the instant Senenmut appears.”
