in that very spot.”
“If he’s so competent, why would Minnakht have spent so much time with the miner from Retenu?”
“Teti probably didn’t want to be bothered with him.”
If the overseer had no time for one man, Bak wondered how he would feel about ten, strangers one and all, demand ing a personal tour of his domain. “Huy said I could climb the mountain and descend in one day.”
The caravan officer raised his beer jar and twisted it in his fingers, making a show of studying it. Bak was reminded of the old woman Nofery, his spy in Buhen, and the way she doled out information, hoping to make a better bargain.
Nebamon, however, responded freely enough. “My sergeant,
Suemnut, and his men must escort the prisoners up the mountain tomorrow and must deliver the supplies we brought. They’ll leave at first light. You can walk up with them. The trail isn’t difficult, but can be confusing to one who’s never climbed it.”
“How long will they remain atop the mountain? I’ll need time to speak with Teti and I’d like to see the mines.”
“They won’t tarry.” Nebamon glanced toward the pad docks and said in a too-offhand voice, “If the donkeys are rested by the time they return-and they should be-I thought to leave in the early afternoon.”
Bak gave the officer a speculative look. He was convinced he wanted something, but what it might be, he could not imagine. “I’ve come too far to make such a hasty journey.”
Nebamon drank from his beer jar. Screwing up his face in distaste, he nodded. “I agree.”
Bak hated to ask the question. The answer might be costly.
“Could I convince you to stay an extra day?”
Nebamon’s lips twitched. “On one condition.”
“That is?”
“When at last you reach the land of Kemet, I’d be obliged if you’d send back to me twenty jars of the finest brew you can find, and a single jar of a good northern wine.”
Bak burst out laughing. “Done.”
“I’d like to go with you, sir.” Psuro untied his rolled sleep ing mat, clutched the edge, and flung it out on the sand.
“We’re surrounded by soldiers, true, but if the man who’s been trying to slay you is close by, you’re no safer here than you were in the Eastern Desert.”
“I insist you accompany me, Sergeant, and Nebre and
Kaha as well.” Bak glanced toward User’s campsite. “I feel certain User and Ani will wish to go and probably all the other men who came across the Eastern Sea with us. Any one of them may be as much at risk as I am.”
“I doubt that, sir.”
Refusing to argue with him, Bak picked up his sleeping mat, untied it, and shook it open. A long, thick brownish snake writhed free and dropped to the ground. A viper. Snap ping out a curse, Bak leaped backward. The deadly reptile sped across the sand toward Psuro, who stood paralyzed with shock. Too far away from their weapons cache to grab a spear, Bak tore his dagger from its sheath. Uttering a hasty prayer to the lord Amon, he flung the weapon. The slender blade impaled the snake just below its head. While it whipped its tail, trying to shake itself free, Bak leaped toward the spears, grabbed one, and slashed the head from the crea ture. Moments later, the snake writhed its last.
Psuro stared, appalled, at the reptile. “How could a viper get into your sleeping mat?”
“Not by itself, I’d wager.”
The sergeant tore his eyes from the creature. “As I said be fore, sir, you’re no safer here among all these soldiers than you were in the solitude of the desert.”
Chapter 15
“Someone tried to slay me last night.” Bak looked at each of the men scattered around User’s camp, registering their reac tions. “When I unrolled my sleeping mat, a viper fell out. An angry viper bent on avenging its captivity.”
User, honing the edges of his spear point, showed no sur prise at this new attack on a member of the caravan, but his usual grim expression turned grimmer still. Nebenkemet looked up from the cooking bowl he was cleaning with sand and muttered a curse. Ani, who was tucking a dirty square of linen into his belt with the expectation of collecting a few samples of turquoise, looked appalled. Wensu, seated on the ground, the last to finish his morning meal, glanced quickly at the sand around him and scrambled to his feet.
Amonmose slipped his arms into the sleeves of his filthy tunic and pulled it over his head. “I thought we’d left that vile criminal behind when we crossed the sea.”
“Could not the snake have crawled inside to escape the heat?” Wensu asked.
As far as Bak could tell, each of the men had reacted in a predictable manner. “The mat was rolled too tight. Only be cause the lord Amon chose to smile upon Psuro did he avoid being struck by its deadly fangs.”
“And because you were quick with the dagger, sir.” The sergeant stood with the other Medjays at the edge of the camp, watching the men in User’s party as closely as Bak studied them.
About thirty paces away, Lieutenant Nebamon stood with
Sergeant Suemnut, a hard-muscled man of medium height, in front of the hut in which the supplies had been kept safe until they could be transported to the mines atop the moun tain of turquoise. They watched the soldiers who had come from the port with the caravan scurrying around, placing yokes on the prisoner’s shoulders and checking for balance the baskets and bundles of supplies and the water jars sus pended from either side. When they finished that task, more than half the soldiers, grumbling among themselves, as sumed identical burdens. The remaining men stood off to the side, fully armed and awaiting Suemnut’s signal to depart.
“I know several attempts have been made to slay you, but were they true attempts on your life?” User asked. “All who’ve vanished or have died were men familiar with the
Eastern Desert. As I am. You’d think I’d be the next target, not you.” He raised his hands to stave off comment and bared his teeth in a sham grin. “Don’t get me wrong, Lieutenant.
I’m grateful. But I’m also puzzled.”
Bak gave him a sharp look. “You knew the man we found dead at the well north of Kaine?”
“If I knew him, I’d have said so.” User scowled, irritated.
“You’re not the sole man in this caravan who’s capable of reaching the vast sum of two after adding one and one to gether. No sane man would travel the desert alone if he didn’t know it well.”
Bak ignored the sarcasm. “You’re right. To keep to his pat tern, he’d wish you dead instead of me. Unless he’s more afraid of me than you.”
“If it’s wealth he’s after, he has no reason to fear me. I’m no closer to finding gold today than I was twenty years ago.”
User’s laugh was humorless, directed at himself. “As for you,
Lieutenant: If I planned some vile deed abhorrent to the gods, I’d want you out of the way. You may not know this land, but you’re tenacious. And you’re a soldier free of the burdens of official duty, the nearest thing in this godforsaken land to a policeman.”
“I am a policeman.”
Bak glanced at Amonmose, the sole man among them who had known who he was. The trader smiled, relieved at the disclosure. Ani looked startled, while Wensu appeared an noyed. Nebenkemet’s expression shut down, a man refusing to reveal himself.
User burst out laughing. “I should’ve guessed. The ques tions you’ve asked, the way you examined the men we found dead, and most of all, the Medjays. Not many ordinary offi cers command a troop of Medjays.”
“How could you not tell us?” Wensu demanded. “We had a right to know. Men have been slain beneath our very noses, yet you sat back and did nothing. Said nothing. We needed protection, reassur…”
“Silence!” User snarled. “If the lieutenant and his men hadn’t joined our caravan, we might all be dead by
