'I was just looking at Hormin's possessions.' Meren held out the signet ring. It had a flat bezel with a tiny inscription of Hormin's name. The bracelet bore the man's title as well as his name, and the workmanship was good.
Kysen gestured to include all of Hormin's things. 'None of it is unusual for a scribe of Hormin's stand ing. His clothing was of good, though not the best, quality, as well.'
'I know. But you didn't see his treasure room. The man hoarded, Ky, so we mustn't overlook any sign his possessions may give us.' Meren wrapped his hands around his wine goblet and sighed. 'I don't know. There's something wrong, but I can't decide what it is. I need to juggle.'
'Oh no,' Kysen said. 'Not while I'm here.' He bent down and gathered up a handful of records, shoving them at his father. 'These will distract you.'
There was silence while they both read.
Kysen said, 'The city police report the arrest of a tavern keeper for the prostitution of children.'
Meren's mouth tightened, but he kept his gaze on the
Murder in the Place of Anubis 79 reports in his hand. 'The judges will dismember him.' He tapped the papers with one finger. 'A tax collector has beaten a peasant to death. He was punishing the man for repositioning the boundary stones on his land, and he hit the man's head instead of his back. And one of the mortuary priests of the temple of Amunhotep the Magnificent is accused of diverting grain from the treasury for his own use.'
'Stupid,' Kysen said.
'What?'
'The mortuary priest is stupid. One doesn't steal from the father of the reigning Pharaoh; one steals from the mortuary temple of an older king or prince who's been forgotten.'
'True. Anyway, the only other report from the ne cropolis is that another laborer has fallen to his death. He was on his way from the nobles' cemetery to the Valley of the Kings. I think that's the third accident this year.'
Kysen waved a papyrus roll. 'The vizier has sent word that the vassal prince Urpalla wants more of Pharaoh's gold to buy mercenaries to fight the Hittites.' Kysen stopped when his father groaned and threw a papyrus bearing the royal seal to the floor.
'What's wrong?'
'May the fiends of the netherworld take her,' Meren said. 'One of Pharaoh's half sisters, Princess Nephthys, she's pregnant and won't name the father.'
Meren almost shuddered at the possibilities opened up by this latest disaster. The right to the throne of Egypt passed through the female line. Nephthys was the daughter of a minor royal wife and Amunhotep the Magnificent, but women with less royal blood than she had tried to claim the throne for their sons.
'Shall I burn that?' Kysen asked, indicating the report on the princess. Even at home they couldn't afford to leave writings from the king lying about. He took the paper from Meren and touched it to the flame of an alabaster lamp.
As he dropped the last curling bit of papyrus, Iry-nufer walked into the room and saluted. Eyes bleary from lack of sleep, he wasted no breath with polite salutations.
'Lord, one of Hormin's servants saw Bakwerner at dusk on the night of the murder. He was skulking in the alley next to the house when she passed by on her way home, but when he saw her, he left.'
'She's sure he left?' Meren asked.
'Yes, but then she went home, so he could have come back. But that isn't all. Bakwerner visited the family of Hormin after we left them. He eluded the man set to watch him and came creeping about, dodging into doorways and out until he was sure there were no strangers about. Looking for one of us, I'm sure.' Iry-nufer gave Kysen a self-satisfied smile. 'When I saw him, I found one of the maids and told her to listen to what he was saying.'
Meren said, 'It couldn't have been too difficult a task given the way those people yell.'
'The lord is wise,' Iry-nufer said. 'He started out talking to the wife of Hormin. The maid couldn't hear everything, but she thought he was pleading. Then the old woman screamed, and that older brother came in and yelled at Bakwerner, shouting that he was here to cast blame for the murder upon the family. I heard the noise and ran into the house. Bakwerner was yelling, but Imsety beat him, and Bakwerner scuttled out of the house like a beetle chased by a goose.'
Meren leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceil ing. 'Where was the young one?'
'The young one?'
'Djaper.' Meren sat up and eyed Iry-nufer. 'Where was Djaper?'
'He never appeared. Used to such commotion, I sup pose. I left when I saw that no one was going to be killed.'
Meren said, 'I want to know where Djaper was when his brother was fighting with Bakwerner. And I'll speak to you later about this incident, Iry-nufer.'
'Anything else?' said Kysen.
'No, lord. The man assigned to Bakwemer arrived and followed him back to the office of records and tithes. It was getting late, so when my replacement arrived, I came to report.'
Iry-nufer bowed and left. Meren watched Kysen crush ashes from the burned papyrus beneath his sandal. Neither said anything. Long silences often accompanied the reception of such news. He would be busy tomorrow, what with the problems at court and the murder inquiry. As for Kysen, when the sun came up he would go to the tomb-makers' village because he wanted to please Meren.
The door burst open and Meren's hand jumped to his dagger. Iry-nufer charged into the office followed by a youth, one of the apprentice charioteers. The youth was panting and leaned against the door.
'Lord,' Iry-nufer said. 'It's Bakwerner.'
Meren and Kysen looked at each other. Meren's voice snapped with impatience.
'He's dead, isn't he?'
'Someone smashed his face in with an ostracon.'
'The criminal?' Meren asked.
The youth had caught his breath and answered. 'Gone, escaped over a wall hidden by the pile of os-traca behind the office of records and tithes. Reia was watching him from the corner of the building, but he disappeared behind the ostraca and never came out. By the time Reia decided something was wrong, it was too late.'
'Very well,' Meren said. 'We'll come at once.'
Kysen fell into step with him, and Meren glanced his way.
'I had a feeling the evil would spread,' Kysen said. 'Whoever killed in the Place of Anubis is terrified.'
'Or possessed of more audacity than a thousand Lib yan bandits. Bakwerner saw something, of course. I could have dragged him here and threatened him, but I was waiting for him to panic.'
'You were right. He did panic.' Kysen took note of his father's frown. 'Even the high priest of Amun couldn't have foretold what would happen.'
'I can only pray that we catch the evil one before he strikes again,' Meren said. He shook his head as they reached the front door. 'You know how it is when a beast tastes human blood, what happens to a man when he learns how easy it is to murder.'
'The ancients say one becomes a butcher whose joy is slaughter,' said Kysen.
'And the butcher is loose among us.'
7
The God Ra burst into life in the east, bringing light and life, as Kysen boarded the supply skiff headed for the tomb-makers' village. The boat's owner followed, and they glided out into the channel headed west. The canal was one of many cut into the earth to bring water to fields on either side of the Nile. In the distance peasants bent over another canal bank and emptied baskets of soil into its collapsed side. If the canals weren't kept in good repair, life-giving water receded. Without such irrigation the lush green fields would vanish, replaced by the creamy desolation of the desert.
Kysen glanced down at the plain kilt wrapped around his hips. Last night he had decided that he would return to the tomb-makers' village as one of his father's minions rather than as his son. Meren had said that it was unlikely
