He glanced at his companions. Other than User, who looked a bit bored, all but Nebenkemet appeared overwhelmed by the description.
The carpenter followed the overseer’s explanation with no trouble and at times asked questions as difficult to compre hend as were the answers.
Bak was about ready to shout “Enough!” when the over seer pointed out the shallow pit flanked by stones in front of a hole in the base of the furnace. At the bottom, a lump of molten copper had begun to congeal as it cooled.
Ushering them on, Nenwaf showed them every phase of the process: men crushing the stone, loading the furnaces, operating the bellows. If User had not noticed that a long line of donkeys was being led to the place where the ingots were stored for transport, the overseer would probably have gone on for the rest of the day.
As they walked back toward the caravan, Bak drew
Nebenkemet aside. “Who are you, Nebenkemet? What are you?”
The man looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You may well be a carpenter, but you’ve a knowledge of mining that few men can claim. You grasped every word Teti said, and while Nenwaf’s explanation was beyond my under standing, you spoke with him on equal terms.”
During the ensuing silence, a breeze rustled the leaves of an acacia and a desert lark sang its solitary song. The blow ing and complaining of donkeys marked the progress of the loading, along with the shouts of soldiers and an occasional laugh.
“I’ve a natural curiosity, that’s all.”
“No.”
Nebenkemet swung around to face him, his mistrust ap parent, his dislike for what Bak represented if not for the man himself. “I’ve known other men like you, Lieutenant. Quick to charge a man with some foul deed and quicker yet to take away his life, sending him far away from home and family, ofttimes to his death.”
Smothering resentment at so offensive an assumption, Bak kept his voice level, unemotional. “You were a prisoner,” he guessed.
“You may as well speak the truth,” Amonmose said, hurry ing up to lay a hand on Nebenkemet’s shoulder. “You know nothing of pretense. A blind man could’ve seen that you know as much if not more about mining and smelting than
Nenwaf himself.”
Nebenkemet shook off the hand and glared at Bak. “Do you think to accuse me of slaying the men who’ve died since we set out from Kaine?”
“I seek the truth, nothing more.”
Amonmose hovered close as if he feared they would clash.
“I believe the lieutenant to be a fair man, Nebenkemet. If you say nothing, he’ll be bound to believe the worst.”
“He’ll think the worst no matter what I say.”
“Are you in truth a carpenter?” Bak demanded. “Or are you a miner?”
“Tell him,” Amonmose urged.
“The knowledge may not help me find the slayer,” Bak said, “but if it serves to eliminate a single individual- you I’ll be one step closer to snaring that vile criminal. Closer to saving the life of yet another man who might stand in the way of his dagger.”
Nebenkemet looked at Bak and at his friend, his defiance slowly crumpling, turning to indecision.
“What you’ve done in the past is of no concern to me.”
Bak veered around the branch of an acacia. “I came into this desert with a task to perform, and that I mean to do. I’ve no interest in anything other than that.”
Nebenkemet glanced at Amonmose for support, received a quick nod of encouragement. Staring straight ahead, into the past, he said, “I labored in a shipyard in Mennufer, appren ticed to a boat builder. Young and foolish, thinking to make myself look more of a man, I stole a small bauble for a woman I coveted. I was caught within the hour.” He glanced again at Amonmose, who urged him on with a concerned smile. “I was sentenced to spend four years toiling in a mine in the desert east of Abu. Unlike my fellow prisoners, I liked mining, and I had a nose for following the veins of ore. The overseer raised me to the level of assistant and asked me to stay when my punishment ended. I refused.” He expelled a bitter laugh. “I thought to return to my old life in the shipyard in Mennufer, but my master turned me away. I was a crimi nal, a man who couldn’t be trusted.”
Amonmose, seeing his friend’s distress, took up the tale.
“I knew Nebenkemet as a youth. When I came upon him in a house of pleasure, angry and besotted, talking of revenge, I took him away and washed the beer from him. When I heard his tale, I asked him to come with me.”
“So here I am, a prisoner of another sort.” Nebenkemet laughed softly. “A man more besotted with the desert, the quiet and the solitude, than with any woman I’ll ever meet.”
Bak smiled. He believed the tale, that Nebenkemet had been punished as a thief. Would he slay a man-and another and another? He had lived a hard life, to be sure, but from what Bak had seen through the long journey across the desert, he was as steady as a man could be, easygoing, unen cumbered by pride, a man who took pleasure in the simple things. Greed and the quest for gold were not a part of him.
“You remained behind for a purpose, Lieutenant?”
Nenwaf, seated on a mudbrick bench in the shade of the palm grove, glanced at the five children straggling up the wadi. The two largest, both girls, carried a basket between them, sharing its weight. They had followed the caravan to collect the dung dropped by the donkeys. The manure they had picked up, along with the waste the animals had left at the camp, would be formed into flat, round cakes and laid out to dry for use as fuel.
“Do you recall the explorer Minnakht?” Bak sat on a fallen palm trunk facing the overseer, while Psuro rested a shoulder against a tree.
“How could I forget?” Nenwaf offered Bak a handful of dates. “He seemed a fine man and was a joy to speak with.”
“Did he say why he came?”
“To see the mining and smelting.” The overseer smiled at the memory. “He wished to know all there was to know about following the veins of ore while at the same time keeping the tunnels safe, and he was most interested in the furnaces and in the way we take the metal from the stone. Other than
Nebenkemet, I’ve known few men to ask so many apt ques tions.” He laid the dates in a pile on the bench beside him.
“He wanted also to visit the larger mining area to the south. I assured him that the furnaces they use are outdated, as is their way of smelting the ore.”
“All the mines aren’t operated in a similar manner?” Bak asked, surprised.
“The southern wadis have been mined for many genera tions, far longer than here. The quantity of copper- rich stone is dwindling. Soon it’ll no longer be practical to send men and supplies to dig it from the earth. As a result, no attempt is made to modernize the process.” Nibbling the flesh from the seed of a date, Nenwaf eyed Bak curiously. “He seemed de termined to go there, so I suppose he went anyway.”
Bak was well satisfied with the information he was glean ing and Nenwaf lived a singularly uninteresting life. To sat isfy the man’s curiosity was small reward. “Because it was so late in the season, Lieutenant Puemre wouldn’t supply a guide. He urged him to wait at the port until the final caravan came in from the south. Minnakht did wait, and Puemre be lieves he spoke with the overseer.”
“I trust he learned enough to make the wait worthwhile.”
Bak gave him a sharp look. “You don’t believe he did?”
A small naked boy climbed onto Nenwaf’s lap, while an other child laid her head on his thigh. A boy of four or so years ran to Psuro and chattered in a mixture of tongues picked up from the miners and those who smelted the ore.
The two older girls had carried the basket to the hut, where their mother sat on the ground, grinding grain for bread.
“He wished also to learn about the mining and processing of gold.” Nenwaf adjusted his legs beneath the child’s bony bottom. “I could tell him nothing except that I suspect the ef fort is much the same as here. I doubt
