it might be-to join the men most likely to have slain the unnamed man. How could he not accept?
“We’ll travel with the other caravan. It’s better to keep an eye on people you don’t trust than to allow them to go their own way, giving them a chance to do further mischief.”
Chapter 4
Bak stood off to the side of a rough track left on the wadi floor by what had to be hundreds of goats or sheep, mostly the former since they could survive the heat and harsh graz ing easier than could the latter. He had tried to find signs of the nomad family after passing the place where they had been camped, but the sand had been so stirred up by the many sharp hooves that nothing remained but soft grainy un dulations. The few clear tracks he found, those of animals that had wandered away from the path, could have been left in the early hours of the morning-or they could have been made a year or more ago. He suspected they and the mingled tracks on the path had been left by all who had come this way since the last water had flowed down from the mountains.
Two years ago, so Senna said.
Nebre and Kaha had found footprints around dead bushes and a dying acacia where children had gathered wood, but they did not match those of the girls who had watered their goats at the well. He did not suspect their mother of slaying the dead man, but he had an idea that she or her children might know something of his death. Why else would they flee in the dead of night?
Resigned to the fact that they had evaded him, he sent Ne bre and Kaha to scout out the surrounding landscape. He re mained where he was, standing beneath the burning sun, waiting for the caravan to catch up. As he raised his waterbag to drink, sweat slid down his spine beneath his tunic, tickling him. The day promised to be as hot as any he had ever en dured at Buhen.
Senna was the first man to draw near. He walked at the head of the caravan, probing the sand with his long staff.
With luck, any lurking vipers would reveal themselves and slither away. A half-dozen paces back, Rona and Minmose led their string of seven donkeys.
“Are we making good time?” Bak asked the guide.
Senna ventured a wry smile. “User can make no complaint that we’re slowing his caravan.”
“Excellent. We’re not pushing too hard, are we?”
“Like you, sir, I wish to reach the Eastern Sea with every man and animal safe and well.”
Bak clapped the guide on the shoulder and walked back to
Minmose and Rona. After assuring himself that all was well with them and the laden donkeys plodding along in their wake, he let them walk on ahead. The outliers of the lime stone mound to the south were closing in, narrowing the view. He took a final look at the high escarpment that van ished in a bluish haze far to the southwest, following the course of the river that gave life to the land of Kemet. He bade a silent goodbye to the land he could no longer see, tamped down a touch of homesickness, and turned his thoughts to his quest for Minnakht.
About thirty paces behind the last animal, he fell in beside
User, walking with Dedu at the head of his string of donkeys.
The nomad murmured an excuse and slipped away.
“What are you doing out here, Lieutenant?” User asked.
“Crossing the Eastern Desert, as you are.”
“Don’t give me that!” the explorer scoffed. “You and your men are like birds with broken wings, creatures out of your element. You know nothing of this land except what you’ve been told. Worse yet, you’ve placed yourselves in the hands of a man you don’t know, one whose integrity may not be all it should be.”
Bak resented being thought an innocent, but kept his tone level, untroubled. “You underestimate us, User. My men and
I know exactly what we face. A cruel and waterless land scape, where the slightest accident can disable a man to a point where he can die. Where an unseen viper can leap out of the sand and doom a man to a most painful death. Where a much needed spring or well that men have depended on for years may turn up dry. Where…”
The explorer raised a hand to silence him. “I don’t ques tion your knowledge, Lieutenant. You look to be a man who absorbs information like a drunkard soaks up beer. What I question is your lack of experience and your judgment.”
This time, Bak let his irritation show. “We’ve entered this desert, thinking to find Minnakht. And make no mistake: we will find him alive or dead.”
An incredulous laugh burst from User’s lips. “How were you drawn into that?”
“Commander Inebny, Minnakht’s father, knows my com mandant.” Bak’s eyes flashed anger. He could find no humor in the task. “I was sent out to find the missing man and here we are.”
“You’re obeying an order,” User said, surprising him with a sympathetic look. “That accounts for your presence, but it doesn’t explain your willingness to trust Senna.”
“Let’s just say that Minnakht’s father left him with far less choice than my commandant left me.” Bak eyed the explorer, measuring him. “What of you? What are you doing out here?”
Recognizing his own question thrown back at him, User smiled. “When Minnakht failed to return to Kaine, rumors be gan to fly, hinting that he’d found something of worth. Gold, they were saying, but they could’ve meant anything of value.
Silver, copper, some kind of beautiful and unusual stone.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Anyway, I thought to take a look. To see if I could find what he’d found. If anything.”
So User had also heard the rumor, Bak thought, and had believed it credible enough to follow Minnakht into the desert. Was the tale no more than hopeful thinking, as Senna had indicated, or had User’s years of exploring the desert given him a greater insight? Could the young explorer have spotted something of value that he wished to keep secret?
Could that be the reason he had left Senna behind? “You thought to ease your search by following in his tracks.”
“All the world knows he’s confined his interest to a slab of desert between the southern caravan route and the high mountains, between the wadi we traveled up yesterday and the Eastern Sea. This path we’re taking runs diagonally be tween the southwestern limit of his range and the northeast ern limit.”
Bak could not fault User’s logic. It followed his own.
“Why bring along Wensu and Ani? They seem unlikely trav eling companions to a man bent on searching for treasure.”
“Treasure! I should be so fortunate.” User laughed, at him self this time. “They’d both met Minnakht at one time or an other-I don’t know where or when. Nor do I know what promises he made, if any. All I know is that they assumed he’d take them on his next expedition. Then he turned up missing. They heard of me and asked to come along.”
“I’m surprised you agreed.”
User’s expression clouded. “My wife is ailing, has been for a long time. Physicians are costly. They were both willing to pay a fair sum.”
The man’s pain was obvious and Bak preferred not to probe an open wound. “How well do you know Minnakht?”
“I’ve seldom crossed his path. Other than a knowledge of the Eastern Desert, we’ve had no reason to seek each other’s company. He’s younger than I am, the son of wealth. I grew
to manhood in Gebtu, my father a drover. I first crossed this desert at the age of thirteen, leading a string of donkeys in a caravan transporting turquoise and copper along the southern trail. He came in search of adventure.”
A sensitive subject, Bak could see. “He gets along well with the nomads, I’ve been told.”
“They’re as brothers to him and this desert is his home.”
User scowled, grudgingly admitted, “He grew to love it as I do, and since he’s learned the tongue of the nomads, he knows its ways better. That’s why his disappearance is so mystifying, why many blame Senna.”
