'But he's sure to suspect you and me now!'
'Why?'
'Because of Beltis, you fool. She's trying to bribe him with her body, and he's going to think she murdered Hormin and that we helped, or that we did it for her, or that we urged her to do it for us, or-what if she tells him we did it?'
'Gods, Thesh, you're babbling like a runaway slave under torture. Next you'll be soiling your kilt. He hasn't done anything yet. Nor has he said anything. Wait.'
Thesh groaned. 'But I didn't kill Hormin.'
'I didn't either. And I don't think Beltis did, for I'm sure she wouldn't risk her oiled and perfumed hide to do it. Therefore we've nothing to worry about.'
'No? What if they don't find the killer?'
Useramun shrugged and began to pour resin into the pot of ocher.
'What if they don't find the killer? What if the vizier becomes impatient? What if he applies pressure to the Eyes of Pharaoh? What if they decide to find the killer by torturing us? What if they decide to find someone to blame even if they're not sure Pm guilty? I could be cast out into the desert to die.'
Thesh began to pace up and down again, this time working his fists open and closed. Useramun glanced up after he'd finished. Kysen noted the first sign of interest from the painter. Useramun chewed on the end of his spoon.
'Perhaps you're right.' He chewed thoughtfully while Thesh paced. 'Perhaps there is reason to take a hand in this investigation ourselves.'
'How?'
'I don't know right now. I shall think upon it. After all, Beltis says Hormin's sons killed him. They say she did it. There seems to be an abundance of persons upon whom the authorities may place blame. It may be in our interest to see that they place it upon the right person.'
'And quickly,' Thesh said.
Useramun chuckled. 'You mean before you deterio rate into a quivering mud cake?'
'No, before Seth confronts me about our commissions and the vizier comes down upon us with his wrath.'
'Don't be an ass,' the painter said.
'If I'm discovered, — 1 won't endure punishment alone.'
Useramun rose and traced Thesh's chin with the end of the spoon. 'Then we'll have to find a killer for Seth, won't we? That should take his thoughts from secret
Murder in the Place of Anubis 169 commissions and bribes and other such inconvenient things.'
Thesh jerked his head out of range of the spoon and went to the front door. 'We haven't much time.'
'Give me a day,' the painter said.
'Only if Seth says nothing.'
Useramun nodded.
'If he confronts me, I must throw myself on his mercy and beg his discretion, for all of us.'
The painter had returned to his mixing, and he glanced up from the pot. 'I'm sure you're very good at begging. But I think you'll be surprised at how unimportant our little doings are in the view of a servant of a great one. No doubt he's seen much bigger thieves than us.'
Kysen nearly laughed. He had indeed. Thesh left vowing to confess all if cornered, and Useramun continued with his paint mixing. Kysen left the way he'd come. He managed to creep downstairs without anyone seeing him except for a plump little boy who could barely walk. The young one had wobbled down the alley between Useramun's house and his neighbor's and had set his bare bottom on the lowest step in the staircase. He was playing with a rattle.
Poor Thesh. All his charm and pleasing looks meant naught when he was confronted with-. Kysen stopped on the middle step and gazed at the boy below without seeing him. Useramun and Beltis; Woser and Bel-tis; Hormin and Beltis. And, of course, himself and Beltis.
He spoke aloud to himself. 'Thesh and Beltis.'
He took another step down as he mused. He nearly stumbled as enlightenment burst upon him. He stood still, pondering. Could he be right? How could he be sure? He considered the possibilities as he resumed his descent.
Kysen picked the little boy up as he reached the bottom step. 'Aren't you Yem's nephew, little one? Come along. Let's see if we can't cheer your Uncle Thesh. He's got quite a lot of heavy burdens on his heart today.'
14
Meren walked into the forecourt of the amulet-makers' workshop and paused to adjust to the clatter and pound ing that assaulted his ears. Under the shade of an awning sat rows of apprentices and masters working with thin copper chisels and wooden hammers or polishing stones. Beneath each workplace lay a mat to catch flakes of carnelian, lapis lazuli, and turquoise. Beyond, in the open air, lay a fire pit and molds. Two men bent over the pit holding flexible wooden tongs. They gripped a crucible and lowered it into the pit.
An old man stood beside a balance laden with several pieces of lapis lazuli. When he saw Meren, he motioned to a younger man, who took up watch beside the balance. Shuffling up to Meren, he bowed low. 'Life, health, and strength to my lord Meren.' 'I didn't think you'd remember me, Nebi.' 'One remembers the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh.' Meren rolled his eyes. 'Please, Nebi. I used to hide from my tutor in your workshop.'
Nebi laughed and placed a dry, scarred finger beside his nose. 'Long, long ago.'
'Not so long, I pray. But Nebi, I've come on an er rand.'
'Allow me to offer refreshment and shade, my lord.' Nebi ushered him inside the workshop past more rows of assistants sitting on the floor or bent over work- tables. One was inserting glass inlay into a gold scarab amulet. At the rear of the shop lay a narrow room with a chair, a bed, and stools. Given Nebi's advancing years, he wasn't surprised at their presence.
'No,' he said when Nebi offered the only chair. 'If you remember me so clearly, then you know I'm not going to take your chair when you need it.'
He waited while Nebi engaged in the slow process of lowering himself into the chair. Then he took a stool beside it and produced the heart amulet found on Hormin.
'What can you tell me of this?'
Nebi took the amulet. The craftsman had small hands for a man. No doubt they were an advantage in his delicate work. Each finger bore its net of scars and nicks. The carnelian heart with its smoothly worked surface made Nebi's hands seem all the more disfigured. He turned it over, brought it close to his face to peer at it, then glanced at Meren.
'The ib amulet. Couldn't they tell you about it in the Place of Anubis?'
'How do you know it comes from the Place of Anubis?'
'How do I know Ra is in his sun boat?' Nebi shrugged. 'Such things are known. That is all.'
Meren gave up. 'Very well. I should have known better than to expect secrecy. Raneb the lector priest says it's one of thousands they put in the wrappings. I want to know if there's anything special about this amulet.'
Nebi turned the object over in his hand. Formed in the shape of a stylized human heart, the ib resembled an elongated pot with double handles and a pronounced rim.
'This one?' Nebi's hand drew closer to his face again as he mused. 'The heart, seat of intelligence and emotion. This amulet must be placed on the body during ritual purification and embalming to protect the heart so that it can be weighed on the balance of the gods against the feather of truth. Anubis stands by to assure the fairness of the weighing. I've, often wondered how many of us, so laden with sins, ever pass the trial.'
Meren shifted on the stool. 'Please, Nebi.'
'Yes, my lord.' The old man handed the amulet to Meren. 'The stone is of extremely good quality, most likely from a large pebble from the eastern desert. Such large pebbles are rare, as is the excellent blood-red color. Raneb may see many amulets, but he obviously doesn't look at them as a craftsman does.'
