“Will we cross the sea to the Eastern Desert and sail south along its shore? Or will we follow the coastline of this wretched land before crossing over?”
That, Bak suspected, was the question the explorer had been edging toward all along. “I’ll let the fishermen make that decision.”
Psuro returned with the fishing boat, which its crew an chored a dozen or so paces off the beach. The sergeant dropped into the water, waded ashore, and, while he and Bak walked south along the water’s edge, reported the success of his mission. As Amonmose had promised, the vessel was larger than most fishing boats that plied the waters of the
Eastern Sea. In addition to its master Nufer, it had a crew of three. It offered plenty of space for four passengers and, in addition to the supplies needed for an extended fishing expe dition, enough for Bak and his party during a journey that could take as long as three weeks. Satisfied with all Psuro had accomplished, Bak waded out and hauled himself on board, where he spoke at length with Nufer.
They sailed early the following morning.
“What a life this is.” Minnakht placed his fishing pole be tween his knees to hold it steady, spread his arms wide, and stretched luxuriously. “If I didn’t prefer to roam a larger world, I’d remain with these men forever.”
Bak chuckled. “Not a day has passed that you haven’t re minded me that you’re a man of the desert, not the sea. Why this sudden affection for this vessel and the fishing?”
“Can I not enjoy the moment while at the same time I long to be free, to go where I please?” Laughing, the explorer took up his pole and dabbed the line up and down, making the wooden float bob on the water’s surface. “I like you, Bak, and I know you mean well, but your constant companionship is burdensome. Yours and that of everyone else in this small space we inhabit.”
“Thus far, we’ve made good time. These islands mark the halfway point in our voyage.”
Bak swept his hand in an arc encompassing a multitude of brownish or grayish rocky outcrops rising from the water over which they were sailing. Some were islets barely large enough to support the nest of an osprey. Others were consid erably more spacious, with sandy beaches that offered a safe haven to thousands of sea birds and their young. In the water below, a multitude of bright fish swam among plants that rose from the depths, waving long colorful arms in the sea’s currents.
“Once we pass through them, we’ll follow the shore of the
Eastern Desert.”
“At long last! You’ve no idea how much I long to sleep on the land I hold so close within my heart.”
Nufer was a cautious man, one unwilling to sail through the brightest of nights. During the several days’ voyage down the eastern shore of the sea, they had anchored at the water’s edge and camped on the sand. The coastal plain had been bare and uninviting, the mountains to the east high and for bidding. Bak knew their task would be more difficult when they reached the Eastern Desert, but he was glad to leave be hind that wasted landscape.
A smile spread across his face; his eyes twinkled with good humor. “You think we’ve held you close thus far, but what you’ve faced in the past is nothing like the way we’ll guard you when you set foot on the land where your life is most at risk.”
Minnakht rolled his eyes skyward. “Can I not breathe without taking in air you’ve expelled?”
For the next three nights, Nufer anchored his vessel in the shallow waters off small barren islands, lumps of rock and sand that rose in the sea off the coast of the mainland. Min nakht jested about the choice of camping places, asking Bak if he feared he would slip away. Bak had a feeling he was merely going through the motions of complaining.
On the fourth night, rather than camp on an unusually large island lying offshore, they anchored off the mouth of a wadi that cut deep into the Eastern Desert. For the first time since crossing the sea, they slept on the mainland. Minnakht displayed nothing more than a casual interest in what Bak had assumed would be a tantalizing route into the interior.
Had he decided at last to place his trust in them? Or was he biding his time?
Late the following evening, they camped on a narrow spit of jagged black rocks edged with sand that arced around a pool of mirror-calm blue-green water. A ridge rose gradually from the tip of the tiny peninsula to merge into a low cliff that had roughly paralleled the shoreline throughout the day.
Armed with harpoons, Psuro and two fishermen walked north in search of a quiet backwater where they might spear fish for the evening meal. Bak, Nebre, and Minnakht swam among a school of fingerlings that had sought shelter in the cove. Gulls wheeled overhead, squawking at the interlopers, while three white pelicans sat on crags, grooming their feath ers. Nufer, who feared the water as no sailor should, sat on shore with the third member of his crew, trading ribald jokes.
Darkness descended and the night grew chilly. The moon and stars shone above, a slice of white among chips of light as bright as highly polished rock crystal. The gulls flew off to their nesting places and their raucous calls were replaced by the lonely song of a night bird. Nufer nursed a fire in the ex 280
Lauren Haney pectation that Psuro and the sailors would shortly return with fish. Minnakht waded out of the pool, silencing the bird.
Shivering in his wet tunic, he wrapped his arms around him self and hastened to the camp. He trotted past the fire, head ing toward his meager belongings, and merged into the night.
Bak and Nebre exchanged a glance none but they could see.
The time dragged. The waiting seemed endless.
A long, shrill whistle shattered the silence.
Bak and Nebre scrambled out of the water. Nufer dipped an oil-soaked torch into the fire. While a flame burst into life, the two policemen slipped on their sandals and scooped up spears and shields. A quick glance verified that Minnakht had bolted.
Bak had expected no less.
The sailor plucked the torch from the fire and sped with
Bak and Nebre into the night, showering sparks behind them.
They ran along the base of the stony ridge, dodging rocks that rose out of the sand, splashing through pools of water, crunching across stretches of broken shell as sharp as the best bronze knife. Bak thanked the gods that he had had the foresight to inspect the landscape earlier.
Another whistle told them they were on the right course and bearing down on their quarry. A dozen paces farther, he spotted four men ahead. Psuro and the two fishermen stood around Minnakht, holding him in place with harpoons casu ally held but aimed at his breast.
“I should’ve known my flight was too easy.” Minnakht’s smile was thin, his good humor as shallow as the trickle of water beneath his feet. “You’d see me dead rather than let me make my own way back to Waset.”
Bak, refusing to answer smile with smile, motioned him to walk back toward camp. “Have I not kept you alive and well thus far?”
“You’ve kept me apart from all who might wish me ill, yes, but can you continue to do so?” Minnakht shook his head. “Not on a route as well traveled as the southern trail.
We’ll meet one man and another and another, and word that I live will spread like oil on swiftly moving water. An army couldn’t save me from my enemies.”
“We’ll guard you well, never fear.”
“I’ll wager that the men who wish me ill are the same as those who slew Senna and the others.”
“One man took their lives, not a multitude. If it’s you he seeks rather than me, we’ll snare him when he comes close.”
Minnakht stopped walking and gave a cynical laugh. “So
I’m the goat you’re staking out to attract a hyena.”
Bak took his arm and pressed him forward. “You’ll remain with us. We’ll see that you arrive in Kemet alive and well. Af ter that…” He let the thought hang, leaving the future open.
“Is Minnakht still sulking?” Bak asked. A night and a day had passed since the explorer’s attempt to slip away into the desert.
Psuro shook his head. “He can’t maintain the pose. He’s too genial by far.”
So they could talk without Minnakht hearing, they had walked south along the water’s edge, setting out as the sun dropped toward the western horizon. They were wading through the swells rushing onto the shore,
