of the courtyard in the center of the archives building. Two Med jays stood with their backs against the trunk, chatting in their own tongue, looking very much at ease. Sharp, alert eyes belied the picture of relaxed disinterest.
“Say what you will,” Bak said. “I’ve told Thanuny of my suspicions. You must fill in later any details he needs to know.”
Hori gave the auditor a tentative smile, then went on with his report. “Maruwa seldom traveled north on Antef’s ves sel, but twice he did in the past three years. Once-the first time-when the ship was delayed in Waset to recaulk the seams. The second time about a year later. He received a message from his family, saying bandits had raided one of his stables. He had to return without delay.”
Bak’s smile was grim. Two long voyages to Ugarit. Many days of boredom, with nothing to do but look at the coastline they were following. Plenty of time to notice something amiss with the cargo. “What items does Antef usually list on his manifest when he sails from Kemet to the port cities at the eastern end of the Great Green Sea?”
Referring to the limestone shard on which he had made notes, the young scribe said, “Much of his cargo- nineteen items out of twenty-is almost always rough pottery, bulk wine, coarse linen, sheep skins and cowhides, bronze items such as fishhooks and harpoon points, sometimes papyrus stalks. Three years ago, he hauled several shiploads of wheat to Retenu when famine struck that foul land.”
“Other than the grain, all the items are made for trade and not of the best quality.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What of the more valuable items? I saw them on deck.
Not placed where they were easily seen, but not hidden ei ther. An inspector wouldn’t miss them. They’d have to be on the manifest.”
“That’s the rest of the cargo, the one item in twenty.” Hori referred again to the shard. “Aromatic oils, perfumes, fine linen, bronze vessels of one kind or another, faience amulets, multicolored bead jewelry.”
The breeze rustled the leaves, which rained down from the tree. Bak brushed one from his hair. “Are all the goods, both ordinary and special, shown as belonging to the trader
Zuwapi?”
“Usually. But sometimes, when Antef has the space, he accepts the goods of smaller traders or takes on board the household items of a family moving north.”
“Do any of those people include valuable objects among their belongings?”
“Nothing but personal items, and those of modest worth.”
Bak turned to the auditor. “As you may or may not know,
Thanuny, a manifest lists the items on board the ship, the man who’s shipping them, their port of departure, and the port where they’re to be off-loaded. No mention is made of where they initially came from or where they’re to go after they leave the ship.”
Thanuny peered at the shard in Hori’s hand. “Captain An tef’s ship is still in Waset?”
“It is,” Bak said, “and the harbor patrol is guarding it so nothing can be removed.”
“You’ve not arrested him, confiscated his vessel and cargo, questioned him?”
“I wanted more information, and now I’m glad I waited.
I’ve begun to think Zuwapi is in Waset. He has to be worried, but I don’t want to frighten him, forcing him to flee the city.”
Thanuny agreed the decision was wise, then said to Hori,
“I suggest we begin our task, young man.” Noting the reluc tance on the youth’s face, he smiled. “We need go back two years at most, I think. After we finish, we’ll go calling.”
Bak smiled at the scribe’s mystified look. “More provin cial governors come to Waset for the Beautiful Feast of Opet than at any other time of the year. If the lord Amon chooses to smile upon us, they’ll remember most of the items they’ve sent as offerings to Ipet-isut, especially those of value. The thefts might well occur during the voyage to Waset or at the harbor when they reach this city.”
Confident Hori and the auditor would find anything that could be found, Bak left the archives to return to Pentu’s house. The governor would not be happy to see him, but so be it. He was approaching the outer court in front of Ipet resyt, tempted by the milling crowd, the mingled aromas of a dozen different types of food, the laughter and chatter of merrymaking, when he saw Amonked walking out of the lane leading to Pentu’s house.
The Storekeeper of Amon spotted him, signaled that he should remain where he was, and hurried toward him. “Bak!
I was on my way to search you out.”
Bak saw no urgency on Amonked’s face, just the set look of a man none too happy. “You’ve news, sir?”
Shaking his head, Amonked drew him into the scattering of people around the nearest booths, where they would not easily be seen from afar. “Merely a word of warning.”
Bak glanced toward the top of Pentu’s dwelling, visible over the nearer roofs. He could see no one standing among the potted trees, but that did not mean no one was watching.
“Am I to be barred from the governor’s house?”
“I squelched that idea, but he’s very upset with you.”
“Because I talked with mistress Taharet, I’ll wager. He wouldn’t have liked that.”
“He thinks the woman a goddess, unapproachable.”
Amonked scowled, his disapproval plain. “I made it clear that you were to do what you must and if that meant talking to the women of his household, he had no recourse but to agree.”
Bak’s frown matched Amonked’s. “She told me mistress
Meret was ill and could see no one. I’d not be surprised to learn that today she’s come down with the same malady as her sister.”
“No one in my household fomented trouble in Hatti.”
Pentu’s chin jutted out, his face flamed. He looked like a man ready to burst. “Instead of trying to lay blame where no blame can be laid, I demand you prove I was withdrawn for no good reason.”
“Sir, our sovereign recalled you with great reluctance, and only because her advisers heard all the evidence and agreed the charge was true.”
Pentu, seated in his armchair on the dais in his reception hall, the fat black dog sleeping at his feet, glared at his tor mentor. “I’m a man of Kemet, Lieutenant. I’d do nothing, absolutely nothing, that would bring about the least problem for my sovereign or her people.”
“No one accused you, sir, but certainly someone in your household posed a threat to the king of Hatti.”
“I refuse to believe it!” The dog leaped up, startled by the harshness in its master’s voice.
Pentu was so angry Bak feared for him. “Sir, if you let me, if you place no obstructions in my path, I may within the next few days lay hands on the man who brought about your recall. Would you not be happier to know his name and put an end to the matter for all time?”
Pentu shrank back in his chair, his expression sulky. “I spoke with Amonked not an hour ago. He left no doubt as to the vizier’s wishes.” The look he threw Bak was virulent.
“Do what you must, Lieutenant. Then leave my home and never again cross my threshold.”
Bak eyed the man seated before him. He could not imag ine Pentu, whom Amonked was convinced held Kemet fore most in his heart, dabbling in the politics of any foreign land unless ordered to do so by his sovereign. Yet if he had be trayed her trust, what might have impelled such behavior?
Bak could think of but one reason: if he thought he would be aiding the cause of his homeland.
When he asked for Sitepehu, a servant directed Bak to a small chapel at the back of the garden behind Pentu’s dwelling. What he guessed had once been a gatekeeper’s shelter had been cleared out and freshly whitewashed, and a shrine to the lord Inheret had been built into the wall at the back of the room. Jambs and lintel around the niche were painted yellow, and a small bronze image of the deity, a bearded man carrying a spear and wearing four tall feathers on his head, stood in front of a red background. Lying on the gray granite offering table in front of the shrine were a cooked goose and a bouquet of flowers. Sitepehu was on his knees before the block of stone, blowing gently at a dollop of very pungent incense, urging it to burn. Thick smoke wafted toward the god, thanks to the hot breeze entering through the open door.
