Kaemwaset as if expecting a reward for a task well done.
Bak, grinning in spite of himself, suggested the priest move closer to the break in the wall, where the dog had seemed the most confused, and give him another good, long sniff of the tunic.
The response was immediate. Tracker followed the scent to the corner where Bak had found the shrines, making him fear the dog was once again tracking the wrong man. He sniffed the paving stones in the area, retraced his steps, and went into the colonnade court. His nose drew him to the corner that lay behind the shrines. There he sniffed the floor and the intersecting wall, then stood up on his hind legs, stretch-ing himself as high as he could. He looked at the men behind him, pawed the wall, barked. His meaning was clear: he wanted to cross the wall.
Bak’s hopes shot upward. He had assumed the rocks and debris outside filled the corner where the walls intersected.
Maybe not. “Let’s go around,” he said, sounding much calmer than he felt.
As they hurried to the main court, Tracker dropped onto all fours and paced back and forth in front of the wall, whimpering, not wanting to leave. Though torn, Hori turned back to stay with him.
Bak and Kaemwaset exited the main court, ran past a startled Kasaya, and hurried westward along the terrace, which disappeared beneath the high mound of dirt and rocks that had piled up against the thick sturdy walls of the temple.
The climb upward was fast and easy, the debris packed solid by time and weather. At the top and around the corner where no one could see from the front of the building, they found the surface to be soft and loose, newly placed. It had clearly not fallen from above. A few paces farther, they discovered where it had come from. In the corner, where the colonnade court joined the main court, they found a large excavation dug down to the paving stones of what had originally been an open platform facing the cliff.
“Hori!” Bak called. “Somebody’s been digging here.
Bring the dog.”
“He’s on his way, sir. He heard you out there.”
Tracker raced around the corner and sped across the mound, flinging dirt in his wake. He half ran, half slid down into the excavation. Following his nose, he sniffed every square cubit of pavement, his tail wagging hard and fast.
From where he stood atop the mound, Bak spotted beneath the dog’s feet a telltale sinking of the paving slabs. Under-neath, he felt sure, lay a tomb.
If the shrine on the opposite side of the wall had been built for the deceased, six shrines most likely meant six tombs of six royal ladies.
“Lieutenant Bak!” Kasaya yelled. “I see a man on the hillside north of Djeser Djeseru, coming down the trail. I think it’s Lieutenant Menna.”
Bak ran to the corner of the building and looked out across the workmen’s huts and Maatkare Hatshepsut’s new temple. The man was a long way off, but the light was striking him at an advantageous angle. He looked like Menna, walked like him.
Why would he approach the valley by such an indirect route? he wondered. Had he had time to go all the way to the top of the cliff or had he met the fishermen somewhere along the way? Were they even now preparing a foul deed? Was he simply being cautious, approaching the valley by way of a high path that offered a good view of the temples?
Or was Menna merely coming from an old cemetery located farther to the north? An innocent man going about his business.
Kaemwaset came up beside him and shaded his eyes with his hand. “If we can see him, he can see us. If he’s the malign spirit, he can’t help but know we’ve found his excavation.”
“Our timing couldn’t have been better,” Bak said, grimly satisfied.
“He must not have guessed you suspect him.”
“Senenmut is climbing the ramp to our sovereign’s temple,” Kasaya called from the base of the mound.
Hori came running out of the main court.
“I must go meet Menna.” Bak whistled to call Tracker, who came racing out of the hole. “You, Kasaya, must remain here and keep an eye on the cliff and Senenmut’s party.” To the priest, he said, “I’ll send men to help you and Hori keep the tomb safe. In the meantime, all of you must go to the front of the temple where you’ll be out of harm’s way in case of a rock slide. I’ll. .”
A low growl grabbed his attention. Tracker, standing beside Kaemwaset, was poised as if for flight, head raised, ears cocked. The hair rose on the back of his neck and he began to bark, loud and frantic. Bak heard a faint rumble from above that rapidly increased to a roar.
“The cliff!” he shouted. “Run! Now!”
Chapter Eighteen
Tracker bolted. Kaemwaset, by no means old but not young either and certainly not a man of action, hesitated. Bak slipped his arm around the priest’s lower back and half carried him down the mound. Hori was racing eastward along the terrace. The dog dashed past him, not stopping until he reached the front of the temple and certain safety. Kasaya, standing as if glued to the pavement, ignored an initial sprinkling of small rocks and dirt and held the mirror high, signaling.
Bak shoved Kaemwaset after Hori and glanced upward.
The cliff high above the temple looked as if it had blown apart. A thick, yellow dust billowed out from the boulders, stones, pebbles, and dirt racing down the vertical surface.
The roar was deafening.
“Kasaya!” Realizing the Medjay could not hear him, he grabbed an arm and pulled. “Come!” he shouted, leaning close. “You’ll be buried alive!”
Running sideways, signaling, the Medjay stared at the top of the cliff above Djeser Djeseru and shouted something.
The words were drowned by noise, but the excitement on his face directed Bak’s gaze toward the top of the cliff.
A flash of light gleamed from the cliff-top trail. The response from the sergeant in charge of ten royal guards who had hidden above the new temple earlier in the day. Bak saw no other sign of life. Were Pairi and Humay hidden somewhere up there, preparing to send rocks down on Djeser Djeseru as they had on the older temple? Or had the guards snared them before they could do more damage?
A heavier shower of rocks and dirt began to fall around and on them, pelting their heads and shoulders. One razor-sharp stone sliced down Bak’s back, drawing blood. He grabbed the mirror from Kasaya, taking away his purpose, and forced him to flee. They ran for their very lives along the edge of the terrace, where fewer broken stones lay to impede their escape. Their feet pounded unheard across the pavement, lost in the thunder of the rocks tumbling down the face of the cliff, buffeting the tower-like projections and the slope below, hurtling down upon the ruined temple and rolling among the fallen columns, architraves, and roof slabs through which Bak and his friends had so recently walked.
A boulder big enough to crush a man burst out of the dust cloud and rolled along the edge of the terrace, chasing them.
Stones of all sizes came with it, and sand and dirt. The cloud billowed up behind, consuming everything in its path. Bak muttered a quick prayer to the lord Amon and put on an additional burst of speed.
The boulder tumbled over the edge of the terrace and dropped into the sand below. Dust erupted around it, merg-ing with the larger cloud. The leading edge of the slide caught them and stones of all sizes came bouncing, hurtling, rolling around their legs and beneath their feet, threatening to topple them. The dust swallowed them, making their eyes burn, making them cough. Kasaya stumbled, fell. Bak grabbed an arm and tugged. The Medjay scrambled to his hands and knees, his feet, and they ran on. A stone struck Bak hard on the back, slamming him forward, knocking the breath from him. He sucked in the filthy air and ran on.
Suddenly the fall was behind them, the rocks losing their momentum. They slowed to a trot, looked at each other, exchanged relieved smiles. They were safe.
