Surprise, but no dismay. Kysen nodded. 'In the Place of Anubis.' Saving Kysen the trouble, Thesh flicked his hand at the women. They receded, along with the sup Murder in the Place of Anubis 89 ply men, back into the shadows of the village where they could be heard whispering together in the main street. His brow furrowed, Thesh led Kysen to the reed mat. They settled upon it, facing each other.
'Who would do murder in the Place of Anubis?' Thesh asked quietly. 'What unnatural carrion would offend the gods in such a manner?'
'You do not ask who would want to kill Hormin.'
'One of his family?'
Kysen leaned back, placed his palms flat on the mat, and surveyed Thesh. 'What makes you say this?'
'Naught of importance.' Thesh's face resumed its humorous lines. 'I bethought me that of all the persons who might wish to do him harm, those who were under his hand the most would be the most tempted.'
He wouldn't smile, despite the temptation. The clev erness of the answer aroused Kysen's respect.
'Tell me of Hormin and his dealings with the artisans of the Great Place.'
'Hormin had permission to build his tomb near the nobles' cemetery, and he'd commissioned work from us.'
'And it was about these commissions that he came yesterday?'
Thesh failed to answer at once. He picked up a water pot and poured into the inkwells on his palette. Stirring with a stick to mix the ink, he went on.
'Yesterday was Hormin's day for chasing his concu bine, as you no doubt know.'
Kysen said nothing while the scribe placidly stirred black ink, then progressed to the red. Thesh lifted bis head then, and quirked a smile.
'Beltis considers herself to be as great an artisan as the Kaha family or Useramun, the master painter. In the practice of her art, she sometimes visits her parents. In
90 Lynda 5. Robinson order to drive Hormin mad with fear that one of us will catch her eye, or worse, some nobleman. Hormin is- was-a jealous man.'
Kysen was about to ask how Thesh knew of this jeal ousy when, over the scribe's shoulder, he saw a woman coming toward them from the houses. She was carrying a tray of food, but moving slowly, as if her legs were filled with sand. She reached the pavilion, knelt, and set the tray between Thesh and Kysen.
Her slow movements had deceived him. She wasn't an old woman, but then neither was she young. She had the wide face of the south, with full lips and a vanishing chin. An unremarkable face set atop a slim body and strong legs. If he had seen her from the back and then from the front, he would have been disillusioned, for the body promised and the face disappointed.
Thesh was pouring beer into cups without looking at the woman. 'Seth, servant of Count Meren, this is my wife, Yemyemwah, called Yem.'
Kysen nodded to Yem, who ducked her head at him.
'Yem, Hormin has been murdered, and Seth has come to divine his movements yesterday.'
Yem's fleshy lips pressed together. 'And the woman?'
The words had been said in a flat, dull voice, and yet Kysen felt the eagerness with which she awaited the answer. This woman longed for the death of Beltis the concubine. Kysen immediately glanced at Thesh, who had paused in the middle of the act of presenting a cup to Kysen. His hand remained suspended, and Kysen could see his fingers tighten around the rim until the flesh turned white.
'What woman?' Kysen asked.
'The whore.'
'Yem!'
'Mean you the concubine?' Kysen asked, taking the cup from Thesh.
Again Yem nodded.
'Only Hormin has been murdered. Do you know anything pertaining to Horrnin and his doings, mistress?'
Yem darted a look at her husband. Thesh was trying not to glare at her. He snatched a loaf of bread from the tray and ripped it in half. The violence with which he did so betrayed him, and he seemed to realize it. He dropped the bread and waved at Yem in dismissal. As she rose, Kysen lifted his hand.
'A moment, mistress, to answer my question.'
'I know naught but that she came here to see her par ents yesterday, and then he came for her and they fought. The whole village knew this. It is a game she plays. Beltis plays many-games. I saw him rushing down the main street carrying a small wicker box under his arm, a bribe, no doubt, to get her home. They had one of their donkey-braying arguments. She could make the pillars of a temple go deaf. The fighting stopped, and I never saw them again, for I had bread to bake and spinning to complete.'
'My thanks, mistress.'
Yem bowed and left them, slogging her way toward the houses as if she waded through a sea of mud. Kysen settled himself more comfortably, leaning part of his weight on his arm, picked up a chunk of bread, and lifted a brow at Thesh. The scribe took a sip of his beer, but when Kysen merely took a bite of his bread rather than launching into accusations, he sighed.
'I told you Beltis considered herself an artisan.'
Kysen's gaze never faltered, and Thesh cleared his throat.
'Yem is a good woman, but we haven't been blessed by the gods with children, and Yem is unhappy. We're both unhappy. Beltis is all laughter and fire and-'
'Did you have her yesterday?'
Thesh shook his head. 'He came, just as Yem said. I could tell when she arrived that this was one of those times when she had other matters to attend to. He followed her here and they fought, as Yem said. After they reconciled, Hormin came to see me to have payments recorded to the account of the painter Useramun and to one of the sculptors. Then they went with Woser to see his tomb. I never saw them after that.'
'And who were those among you who dealt with Hormin?'
'Beltis's parents of course, and the men who de signed and built his tomb. Woser the draftsman and Useramun the master painter saw him the most.'
'And did they deal well together?'
'Hormin never dealt well with anyone. He tormented poor Woser, who would rather be a dung carrier than a draftsman, and of course he hated Useramun.'
Thesh stopped, flushed, and directed his gaze at the cliffs. — 'Why?'
The scribe shook his head. 'This is a question for the painter.'
'It is a question for you, and 1 do not ask it to exercise my lips.'
The snap in Kysen's voice caused Thesh to glance at him in surprise. Their gazes locked, and although Thesh was the older man, he looked away first.
'Useramun is not only a master painter. He is a man of pleasing appearance, one who does not mind risking his hide if his pleasure is furthered.'
'Are you telling me that the concubine deliberately came here to drive Hormin into a fit wondering if she was with you or Useramun?'
'I am still well, and so is Useramun. If he had more than suspicions, no doubt he would have ruined both of us. I have always believed Hormin thought Beltis was teasing him. He didn't have respect for her, for any woman, and never would have thought her clever enough to deceive him. Hormin was a fool.'
'Perhaps,' Kysen said.
He placed his cup on the tray and rose. Thesh did as well.
'I must remain here at least one night so that I may question all those you have mentioned.'
'I am honored to offer my house for your comfort,' Thesh said. 'But surely we are not suspected of this villainy.'
Kysen had his usual reply ready, but before he could speak, three people emerged from the village gate. His eye caught the movement, and he looked over Thesh's shoulder. A youth and two men. One old, two young. The old man moved slowly, his joints swollen, his progress aided by a walking stick. The sun gleamed off his bald head, and as he neared the pavilion Kysen could see the gray bristles of an unshaven beard.
The younger man next to him glanced at Thesh and Kysen curiously, and Kysen caught his breath. The face of his father stared back at him. Almond-shaped eyes with the shine of marble, plinthlike chin, unsmiling mouth. It was
