'If you should regret your decision-'
Geb lifted his head. His eyes glowed with an inner ferocity. 'You have seen his work. It is incomparable, incomparable. Great men seek his favor. He has pleased Pharaoh, who has decreed that none other shall touch the walls of his tomb. And he has chosen me, me, to follow him. I would not leave him, master.'
'Would you bear false witness for him?'
Geb turned and lifted the beer jar, cradling it against his chest, and directed a look at the sleeping chamber. 'You're wrong, master. Though it does not appear so, what takes place in the room is supplication, not subjugation. Apprentice I may be, but my will is my own.'
'And if he were threatened, this most skilled and pleasing of artisans, would you not defend him?'
Kysen watched the youth weigh the consequences of honesty.
'Aye, I would defend him,' Geb said, 'for he has much to teach me, and I want to learn it all.'
Geb bowed to him. Kysen considered threatening him, but this boy was obsessed. He'd seen the inferno of artistic passion behind that humble demeanor. No doubt Geb had known from childhood what he wished to do, had craved the life of a painter. The desire for artistry possessed him, and nothing Kysen could say would deter him from pursuing his goal.
Preceding the boy, he headed for the common room. As he stepped into the chamber, he noticed that Thesh had backed himself against a wall behind a lampstand, his attention fastened on the center of the room. Kysen glanced at Useramun, who was standing there with his back to the newcomers. He turned and stepped aside, and revealed a woman.
Beltis. She could be no one but the concubine. Meren had been accurate in his description. She had long, muscled legs and a small head almost dwarfed by a black wig with strands of hair woven with copper beads. To disguise her weak chin, she painted her lips so that they distracted the observer. In spite of the lateness of the hour, when most people were at their evening meal, she had anointed herself and dressed elaborately. Her body had been oiled, her bare breasts rouged at the nipples, and she wore green-and-gold eyepaint.
'Seth, servant of the Eyes of Pharaoh,' Useramun said. 'This is Beltis, lately concubine to the scribe Hormin. Come, Bel, my adored one, and meet someone who will teach you not to be so vain. Meet someone whose beauty makes you look like a wash pot. Are we not blessed that someone rid us of that jackal Hormin and gave us this treasure instead?'
Kysen gaped at Useramun. Beltis gave the painter a look that would have shriveled the hide of a hippopotamus, then remembered her dignity. Gliding up to Kysen, she pressed her arms to her sides so that her breasts jutted forward. He caught a whiff of heavy perfume and wrinkled his nose as she bowed to him.
'Hail, Seth, servant of the Eyes of Pharaoh, Count Meren. Have you, like your lord, questions to ask of me?'
'Why are you here? My master won't like it that you left the house of Hormin.'
Narrowing her eyes at his abruptness, the concubine replied, 'I grew weary of quarreling with Selket and the others. Djaper hates me. This morning he threatened to take my inheritance away. He said he would have me barred from Hormin's will. I grew fearful, for I'm sure Djaper killed his father.'
'You, of course, are innocent.'
Beltis drew near, so that her breast almost touched his arm. 'Of murdering Hormin, aye. In other things, no.'
A shadow fell upon them. Kysen took a step back, but Useramun blocked his path. Silence fell as he glanced from the concubine to the painter. He felt the weight of both their stares-a gazelle faced with a pair of lions.
Useramun reached out and snaked his arm about Beltis's waist. Gazing steadily at Kysen, he said, 'Beltis, my love, will you dine with us? I have missed you, and no doubt you're as hungry as I am. The beautiful servant of the Eyes of Pharaoh hungers as well.'
Thesh shoved himself away from the wall he'd been hugging and snarled at the painter. 'You fool.'
Kysen almost shook his head but stopped before he disgraced himself by appearing as flustered as a tumes- cent youth.
'I bid you good evening,' he said, and moved to pass around the pair to the door.
He heard a sigh and glanced over his shoulder as he stepped outside. Geb had joined Beltis and Useramun. All three were looking at him. As his gaze met Useramun's the painter dropped an arm over Geb and drew him back against his chest while he pulled Beltis closer. Kysen turned away without changing his expression, and stepped into the night. As Thesh joined him, he heard Useramun's mocking laughter bouncing off the painted walls of his house.
10
Meren woke without opening his eyes. There was no light against his eyelids. It must be dark still. He remained unmoving, breathing evenly, and waited. The click of the rings holding the curtains to the frame surrounding his bed had disturbed him immediately. Years of sleeping in the midst of campaigns against barbarians, years of going to bed knowing he could be attacked by a jealous courtier, these had made him a light sleeper.
There it was-that slightest of air movements. He rolled to the opposite side of the bed like a crocodile wrestling its prey, landed on all fours, and snatched a dagger from beneath the cushions. Shooting to his feet, he searched the darkness for the intruder.
'Well done,' said an admiring young voice. 'Karoya, put down that sword and go away. He's awake now, and yes, you were right to tell me to be wary.'
Meren lowered his dagger and squinted in the darkness in the direction of the voice. 'Majesty?'
Behind him he heard a click, and the flare of a lamp wick. Darkness receded as the king's giant Nubian bodyguard handed him the lamp. As the man vanished, Meren was left staring, his jaw slack, as the living god of Egypt grinned at him and sat on his bed. Tossing the dagger on the sheets, Meren knelt and bowed his head.
'Please, can't you leave ceremony aside?' Tutankh-amun asked.
'I think not, majesty.'
'It is my wish.'
Meren lifted his head and gazed at the king. Tutankhamun had lost his air of daring and mischief and regained that weary, sad expression Meren had come to know well. He should have been more perceptive. Smiling at the king, he rose and sat on the edge of the bed.
'Were you my son, I would thrash you for risking your life in such a foolish manner. I could have killed you.'
The king's bright laughter rewarded him for this transgression.
'I have been cursed with assessing the year's harvest for the entire kingdom. I've wrestled with figures for weeks without end.' Tutankhamun sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. 'The High Priest of Amun is cheating me as usual, and still expects me to give him electrum obelisks and limitless access to my granaries. You, however, have been free to visit possible murderers and go among vendors and merchants in the market. Free, Meren. And in return for this freedom, you must tell me all about the murder in the Place of Anubis.'
The king emphasized his words with a jab to Meren's shoulder. Meren grinned back at him, all the while searching Tutankhamun's face. The king's eyes were large and, when unguarded, expressed his feelings as a bronze mirror reflects light. He could see in them now traces of a young lion bound in chains, a life-loving monkey sealed in a pyramid. Without further protest, he related all he had discovered to the king. Tutankhamun listened eagerly, then shook his head in wonder.
'I thought my family cursed with evil.'
Meren said, 'Hormin and his family aren't like most of us, majesty. Still, I have yet to find one of them more suspect than the others. The wife, the sons, the concubine, his coworkers-any of them had reason to kill Hormin. And then there are the tomb workers.'
'The High Priest of Anubis has begged an audience,' the king said. 'No doubt he will complain to me about your lack of diligence in finding the killer and laying to rest the demons aroused by the crime.'
'He's worried, majesty. Such a thing has never hap pened in the Place of Anubis.'
