“We’ve done nothing of note, nor are we likely to.”
Bak gave him a wry smile. “Nefertem seemed to think we’re seeking the gold Minnakht is rumored to have found.”
“Bah! User’s been looking for gold for years. He’s never found a thing.”
“Will he be all right?” Bak asked.
Dedu let the donkey’s hoof drop to the ground. The crea ture sidled away, favoring the one leg. “A night’s rest will help. After that, we’ll see.”
User’s nomad guide was at least ten years older than
Senna, closer in age to the explorer than to any of the other men in the caravan. White hairs were visible among the black and deep wrinkles etched his face.
Bak knelt beside him to help him gather together tweezers, a small knife, a razor, and several other bronze tools suitable for use when men or animals needed medical care. “Do you always travel with User when he comes into this desert?”
“When I was a young man…” Dedu flashed a smile, cor rected himself. “When he and I were young, I served always as his guide. But I took a wife and she bore me many chil dren. Responsibility weighed heavy on my shoulders, and my days of wandering came to an end.”
Bak smothered a smile. The nomad may have ceased to wander far from his wife, but in the ensuing years, he and his family had without doubt roamed far and wide over the East ern Desert. “Your children have grown, I suppose, allowing you more time away?”
Dedu dropped the tools into a soft leather bag along with a dozen small packets of herbs. “While at the market in Kaine,
I heard men talking about User and this journey he planned.
I’ve long wanted to increase my flock and I know he gives fair exchange for labor.” A twinkle came to his eyes. “And if the truth be told, I missed the old days.”
Smiling, Bak stood up. “So you offered your services.”
“This, I think, will be my last journey. I thought never to say so, but I long for my wife.”
Laughing, Bak eased the guide toward the hillside over looking the pools, where the rock-strewn slope lay in shadow. A gentle breeze ruffled the grass and reeds, the leaves on the bushes. Most of the men had entered the gorge for their evening meal, and the limping donkey was nibbling his way toward his equine companions hobbled within the overhanging walls.
“Did you know Minnakht?” Bak asked, sitting on a flattish rock near the base of the slope.
Dedu chose a rock not far away. “Each time he came through my family’s territory, he stopped for a day or a night.
He was a good man. Should he not return-and after so long a time, I think it unlikely-we’ll miss him.”
“Did he bring Senna with him?”
“Since a year ago. I envied Senna his task. The gods surely smiled upon him when they sent him to Minnakht.”
“Had you ever met him before? He told me he’s a man from the north, but said he first came here many years ago.”
Dedu placed the leather bag on a rock close to his feet. He adjusted the way it lay and adjusted it a second time. Evi dently sensing Bak’s eyes upon him, he said, “Once before, I saw him. Five years ago or longer.”
Bak gave him a speculative look, wondering why the de lay in answering. “Was he serving as a guide at that time?”
Another hesitation. “He was.”
Giving no sign that he noticed Dedu’s reticence, Bak said,
“He mentioned toiling as a boy for a man who wanted above all things to find gold. Was he traveling with him at that time?
A man your age or older, I’d guess.”
“No.”
The nomad had been very forthcoming earlier. What had stolen his words? “Minnakht’s father sent me into this desert to find his son, Dedu. So far, I’ve learned nothing. I don’t even know if I can trust Senna.”
“I know nothing to Senna’s discredit.”
“Something happened five years ago. What was it?”
Dedu shook his head. “Nothing.”
“You claim you liked Minnakht. Why will you not help me in my quest?”
“What happened to me and mine has nothing to do with his disappearance.”
“I can’t be sure until you tell me.”
Dedu lowered his head, covering his face with his hands.
When at last he spoke, his voice was thick with distress.
“Senna came to our camp in the mountains. The man he trav eled with was not old. Twenty years, no more.” He raised his face to Bak, letting him see his shame. “My daughter, a child of beauty and innocence, was twelve years of age. She was betrothed to the son of one of our clan leaders, a youth she claimed to love above all others. That man with Senna smiled upon her and she in turn smiled at him. They went off to gether for a night and a day and another night. If her be trothed had been any other man, her loss of purity would’ve been of no significance, easily forgiven and quickly forgot ten. But the son of a chief must keep the line pure. That man with Senna ruined her in the eyes of her betrothed.”
Bak laid a sympathetic hand on the nomad’s arm. “What part did Senna play?”
“He went out to find them and brought my daughter back.”
Bitterness entered Dedu’s voice. “Later, we learned she was with child. She lives with me yet, she and the girl, and she re fuses to wed any other man, convinced the swine will one day come back for her.”
“What was the man’s name?”
“I don’t know.”
Bak felt certain he did know, but to press for an answer might silence him altogether. “When I came back this morn ing and found the caravan here, I talked of my abduction.
One thing I failed to mention was the name of the man who led the nomads who took me away. You’ve dwelt here a life time, so you must know him. I was never told his birth name, but he said Minnakht called him Nefertem.”
The guide’s relief at the change of subject turned to sur prise. “He’s our tribal chief, the one man standing at the head of all our clans. Why would a man of his stature abduct you?”
Bak also was surprised, but for a different reason. He had not guessed Nefertem was of such import, though when he thought back on how quick the nomads had been to obey his every command, he should have. “He spoke of his father as
Minnakht’s guide, not as a tribal chieftain.”
“His father was a good man highly regarded by all, but not a leader. His uncle, who died two months ago, leaving behind no sons of his own, named Nefertem to succeed him.”
“He believes his father was slain at the hands of another. If he was so well thought of, why would anyone wish him dead?”
The question hung in the air between them with no answer to be found.
Chapter 9
Bak awakened, rolled onto his back, and groaned. What now? he wondered. The donkeys were moving around, blow ing, making small noises. Something had disturbed them.
This was not the first time the creatures had grown rest less. He and Psuro had gotten up earlier in the night to walk among them, calm them, and search for a reason. At the same time, User’s drovers had dealt with the larger string of ani mals for which they were responsible. He had no idea how long ago that was. The gorge, whose overhanging cliffs had cut off much of the moon- and starlight, had been very dark.
