Taweret's voice rose as she got farther away, and then cut off when she neared the approach to the street. The fan bearers scurried after her.
Kysen heard a door slam, and Remi appeared, chariot dragging along behind him by a length of twine.
'She's gone,' he said with a smile. 'Now may I have a sweetmeat?'
Pleased with himself for having got rid of Taweret so easily, Kysen picked up a pillow and went to the couch.
'You may have two sweetmeats. Tell Nurse I gave permission.' As Remi pattered away, Kysen went on. 'And remember what happened the last time you lied and told her I said you could have five.'
Fluffing the pillows in his hands, Kysen lay on his back and stuffed the cushion beneath his head. He stared up through the palm leaves at the sky. Soon the servants would bring food. They always knew when he was ready to dine; he'd yet to figure out how.
The physician attached to his father's staff would have Hormin's body by now. Great care would be taken to ascertain if magic had been used to cause the man's death. Kysen didn't expect to find such signs of tampering. He'd been assisting his father since he was a youth, and what Meren had told him from the beginning was true. Those who employed magic almost always helped the supernatural along by use of ordinary weapons, poisons, or other violence. He was contemplating what the physician would have to say about Hormin's body when someone began chanting over him. Something hit his ear, and Kysen yelped. He scrambled to his feet to face his son's nurse.
'I adjure thee,' Mutemwia said, 'by the holy names, render up the murderer who has carried away this Hormin-Khalkhak, Khalkoum, Khiam, Khar, Khroum, Zbar, Beri, Zbarkom-and by the terrible names- Balltek, Apep, Seba.'
Kysen rubbed his ear and cursed the girl. She reached out with a small wooden hammer and tapped him on the other ear. Yowling, Kysen scuttled backward.
'Render up the murderer who has carried off this Hormin. As long as I strike the ear with this hammer, let the eye of the murderer be smitten and inflamed until it betrays him.'
Nurse lifted the hammer again, but Kysen snatched it from her hand.
'By the phallus of Ra! Are you mad?' Kysen threw the little hammer into the pond and rounded on the girl. His ears stung, and now his head hurt as well. 'Hathor gave you much beauty and no wits.'
Nurse Mutemwia crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at Kysen. 'It is a spell to protect you and find the evil one, lord. Do you wear your Eye of Horus amulet?'
'Beaten by my son's nurse. Curse you, Mutemwia, I don't care if your family has served Meren's for generations, you shouldn't hit my ears.' Kysen rubbed the injured organs. 'Did you break the skin?'
Mutemwia shook her head. A clap of her hands sum moned servants bearing food. 'This servant humbly begs pardon. She only has thy welfare before her eyes.'
Kysen cast a suspicious glance at the girl. When Mutemwia was humble, he grew wary.
'Nebamun is the physician and priest in this household. There's no need for you to do his work for him.'
'I got the spell from him,' Mutemwia said as she set a table before the couch. She dismissed the servants and began dishing out roast oryx. 'I practiced the words of power while Lady Taweret was here.'
'Ha!'
Mutemwia ignored Kysen and poured wine into a goblet, her expression as calm as it had been since she entered the courtyard.
'You're jealous,' Kysen said.
'A humble nurse is too far below a descendant of a living god to dare to be jealous of her.'
Kysen scowled at her again, sent pillows flying from the couch with a swipe of his arm, and sat down. He bit into a joint of oryx. He chewed and glared at the same time. Bowing, Mutemwia picked up a tray and vanished in the direction of the kitchen. Kysen nearly bit th? inside of his cheek, so violent was his chewing. As she vanished, his scowl turned to a grin. He'd have his own revenge tonight.
5
In the house of Hormin, Meren approached the chamber assigned to Djaper. A charioteer stood at the closed door. Meren had left Beltis intent upon examining Hormin's younger son, who'd nearly delivered a mutilating blow to the concubine earlier. He paused beside the charioteer before entering the bedchamber.
'What is he doing, Iry-nufer?'
'Reading, lord.'
'Reading?'
Iry-nufer nodded. Meren folded his arms and studied the tip of his sandals. Djaper felt comfortable enough to read in this hour of evil and death.
'The watch has been arranged?' Meren asked.
'Yes, lord.'
'One man should be enough. But I want him to stay out of sight. Find a rooftop across the street if you have to.'
Meren opened the door a crack and gazed into Djaper's room. The young man was propped up on a couch with a papyrus roll stretched in his hands. He clamped his teeth around a reed pen and frowned at the sheet in front of him. Meren slipped into the room. As he approached, Djaper looked up and released the papyrus roll, which furled into one hand. Removing the pen from his mouth, he dropped it on the scribe's palette on the floor beside him and knelt. The papyrus roll was held at his side behind the folds of his kilt.
Meren inclined his head at Djaper as he walked past the couch to stand in front of a wall lined with shelves. Most were filled with papyrus rolls, old letters, freshly ground ink, sealing clay, and the other accoutrements of a scribe's profession.
Meren returned to the couch and sat down. Djaper was standing with his eyes on the floor in the proper attitude of respect. Meren held out his hand, and Djaper's head jerked up. He slowly held out the roll, waiting in silence as Meren perused it.
'This is an estimate of harvest. I understood that it was your brother who attended to your father's farm.'
Djaper's eyes widened, and he smiled. 'Yes, Lord Meren. Imsety plants things, plows things, herds things, but sometimes he's too busy to keep all the records. Like now. Harvest is almost upon us.'
'What do you know of your father's death?'
Keeping his gaze on his hands, Djaper rolled the pa pyrus into a smaller tube. 'Nothing, lord.'
'You fought with him.'
'The lord refers to the small argument about Imsety owning the farm.' Djaper sighed and let the papyrus roll fall to the floor. 'It's true. Father never wanted to give up any of his possessions, but Imsety is the only one who really cares about the farm. Father kept most of the wealth gained by it. Imsety got barely enough to keep himself, and neither of us has enough for a separate household. Father hated farming, and Imsety would have given him whatever share he wanted. So I spoke for my brother two days ago. You see, Imsety can grow anything, but he's no better than a monkey at speaking for himself.'
Meren nodded and waved his hand to signal that Djaper could relax his formal posture. The young man sat back on his heels with his hands folded in his lap.
'All my eloquence went for naught. As I said, Father was furious. I counseled Imsety to wait until after Harvest, to give Father time to get used to the idea. But now-'
'Now you and your brother will inherit.'
'Of course, lord. A man's sons care for his eternal house. It is we who will see that prayers are said for his soul, that his ka is supplied with meat and drink. It's the proper way. Any dutiful son would do the same.'
Meren leaned back and placed his elbow on a pile of pillows. 'And what about Beltis?'
An apologetic grin spread across Djaper's face. 'I beg forgiveness. The woman attacked poor Imsety, and I couldn't let her hurt him again. You see, lord, Imsety looked after me when I was small and weak. He put up with my tagging along with him, taught me how to shave and throw a dagger. And anyway, that woman has been
