entered the mansion to bend a knee to the goddess. I almost broke my neck, stum bling over the stones lying about, awaiting placement.”
Bak enjoyed the lieutenant’s irreverent attitude, but fore saw grief in the future. Should the officer be posted to a gar rison in Kemet, he would have to bite his tongue to keep himself out of trouble. “Did Minnakht ever find a man who could answer his questions?”
“I heard that he spent a considerable amount of time with one of the miners. A man who toiled in the mines for several years, traveling all the way from the land of Retenu.”
Puemre had told Bak that many of the miners came from afar. They spoke a tongue other than that of Kemet and wor shipped different gods. For some reason Puemre could not fathom, the mansion of the Lady of Turquoise satisfied their devotional needs.
“Has that man come again this year?”
“I haven’t seen him. He was older than the other miners.
Too old for rough labor, I thought, and he seemed to know it.
He talked of leaving this life of deprivation and toil so he might spend his final years in his homeland, close to his wife and children, and their children.”
Bak muttered an oath. Thus far the gods were doling out the information he sought in such small bits that he feared he would die of old age before he learned the truth.
The prisoners trudged past, watched closely by their guards. Where they might flee in this waterless landscape, he could not imagine. Their hands were tied behind their backs and they were roped together in a loose chain. Their faces were impossible to see in the darkness, but he sensed their lack of hope. He could not help but feel pity, but they had of fended the lady Maat and justice must be served.
Justice. He prayed that soon he would be able to offer to the gods the name of the man who had taken Rona’s life and the lives of so many others. At times he felt a glimmer of hope that he would do so; at other times he felt no closer to the truth than he had the day he and his men had set out from
Kaine.
The caravan reached the camp at the base of the mountain of turquoise the following morning. Bak pitied the soldiers posted to this hot and sun-bleached valley, and he was certain the miners and prisoners who toiled atop the mountain suf fered a harsher existence.
The camp was basic-primitive almost. Several groups of rough stone huts had been erected near the scree- covered base of a reddish sandstone mountain. A small flock of goats and four donkeys, tended by a nomad family, were perma nent residents, satisfying the scant needs of the army. Be cause the caravan animals had to bring their own food from the port and water had to be carried from a distant well, they never remained more than two or three days. Like the houses, the paddocks were walled with stone. Acacias fanned out across the valley floor, providing some relief from the sun.
A half-dozen soldiers stood guard, while others performed the small, tedious duties necessary in a desert outpost. Their primary duty, Bak suspected, was to care for the caravan ani mals during their brief but regular sojourns. A few men branded as prisoners suffered the harshest duty, repairing tools, cleaning manure from the paddocks, and so on. No mads came and went, men who had left families and live stock in distant wadis while they came to trade.
Like the soldiers who had brought in the caravan, Bak and his party slept through the day. Not until after the evening meal did he have the opportunity to speak with Lieutenant
Huy, a slim, ruddy-faced man who, according to Nebamon, treasured his senet board and playing pieces and pressed all who came near into playing the game with him.
“I’m eternally grateful, Lieutenant.” Huy sat on a low stool beneath an acacia and set up the board, which had fold ing legs and contained a drawer in which to store the pieces.
“I seldom get to challenge anyone new.”
Bak, seated on a similar stool, watched him place the pieces in their appropriate squares. “Nebamon said you’d want to play.”
What the caravan officer had actually said was, “If you want him to answer your questions, you must play at least one game with him. But let me warn you: he fancies himself an expert, and he doesn’t like to lose. His goodwill is impor tant to the smooth running of this mine, and I can’t tell you how difficult it is to think of new ways to let him win.”
“He must’ve told you, then, that each time he comes, we compete.” Huy, who had given Bak the white cones and had taken the blue spools as his own, made the opening move without throwing the knucklebones, as he should have, to de cide who would begin. “I enjoy our games, but I can predict his every move. He plays with no imagination whatsoever.”
Bak took a sip of beer, smothering a laugh, and began to play. After allowing Huy to take his third playing piece, he said, “I understand Minnakht asked many questions about mining the turquoise while he was here.”
“He did.” Huy pounced on another piece. “I helped him as best I could, but finally sent him to Teti, the overseer.” He no ticed Bak’s curious look and smiled. “I’m responsible for the mines, yes, but my primary task is the smooth running of this camp and seeing that the men are supplied with all their needs, modest as they are. Teti knows the mines and mining better than any living man, so I entrust him to oversee the ac tivities atop the mountain of turquoise.”
Bak saw an opening on the game board so obvious a blind man could have spotted it. He could not resist taking one of
Huy’s pieces. “I understand he also asked about copper mining.”
The officer eyed the board and his mouth tightened, but as the number of spools exceeded the cones, he had no grounds for complaint. “He inquired about the workings west of here and those much farther away to the south. I told him all I knew, which isn’t much. I’ve been to the former, of course, but I’ve never seen the more southerly mines.”
“He visited the closer location, I understand.” Bak noted a careless move on Huy’s part and was sorely tempted to take advantage. He resisted the urge.
“He did, and he asked for a guide to take him south. I re fused. We were closing these mines for the season and none of the men who remained had sufficient experience to lead him through the mountains. I also warned him that those mines might already be shut down.”
“After I climb the mountain of turquoise, I wish to see the copper mines he visited. Would that be possible?”
“When Nebamon returns to the port, his caravan must make a detour to those mines. They’ve a load of copper ready to transport to the sea, the first of this season.”
Nebamon and his men had set up camp near the donkey paddocks, as had User and his party. Bak and his Medjays had elected to sleep twenty or so paces away and an equal distance from the nearest cluster of huts. At dusk, while Min mose prepared an evening meal of fish cooked with onions,
Bak strode across the sand to the caravan officer’s camp.
Nebamon saw him coming and motioned him to sit on the sand beside him. Handing his guest a jar of beer, he grinned,
“How did your game progress, Lieutenant?”
“Unfortunately I failed to win,” Bak said, forming an un happy look that would have convinced no one-except per haps Lieutenant Huy.
“I trust you made up for the loss in another way.”
Bak took a sip of beer and grimaced. It was one of the bit terest brews he had tasted since leaving the southern frontier.
“Tomorrow I’ll climb the mountain of turquoise and speak with the overseer.”
Nebamon smiled at Bak’s reaction to the beer. “Teti.”
“You know him?”
“I’ve seen him here at the camp a couple of times.” Neba mon sipped from his beer jar, then set it on the sand between his bare feet. “The miners say he’s a hard man, but one who can smell turquoise where none believe the stones exist.
They say he enters a shaft and strolls around with his hands locked behind his back. He tilts his head one way and an other, peering at the walls, and finally points a finger. Eight times out of ten, the miners find turquoise
