'Well, they have great boxes full of them.'
'Indeed, my lord. But this carnelian is of the quality I would use only in an amulet made for a noble or a prince or-'
'Or a king?'
Nebi inclined his head. 'I am a neshdy, worker of precious stones.' Nebi pointed at the amulet in Meren's hand. 'That is the amulet of a prince.'
'I feared you would say so.'
'It's not pierced,' Nebi said. 'Therefore it wasn't meant for a necklace. It has been shaped on both sides. Therefore it is not meant for inlay. I would say it was intended to be placed upon a body, within the bandages over the heart.'
'Therefore, if this amulet came from the Place of Anubis, it would have been housed in their treasury at the temple, not at the embalming sheds.'
'Aye, my lord. But, of course, someone could have made a mistake and placed it with the lesser stones. They seem to take such amulets for granted, the em-balmer priests.'
Meren stood and helped Nebi get himself out of his chair. They walked out of the workshop, back into the din of the forecourt. Bow drills whirred and blowpipes hissed as assistants blew into them to fan the furnaces and braziers. Meren took leave of Nebi and returned to his chariot. Abu awaited him, but he stood caressing the nose of his thoroughbred while he thought.
Another object of great value, this heart amulet. Did it belong to Hormin, or to the Place of Anubis? He was reluctant to admit that he might never know. Hormin had been prosperous, mostly because he hoarded and no doubt connived in sly ways to obtain more than his fair share of wealth. The scribe had owned that broad collar. Yet he couldn't make the mistake of assuming he also owned the unguent and the heart amulet.
'Abu, we're going to the treasury of the god Amun.' Meren glanced at the sun. It had already sailed over its high point and was descending rapidly. 'Who do you see at the treasury?'
'A lowly Pure One, my lord.'
'It's as well. In that ants' nest the powerful ones wouldn't know anything of our Hormin. Not that they would tell me if they did.'
He sailed across the river on the royal ferry, taking his chariot with him. Soon he was driving down the great processional way lined with ram-headed sphinxes, the pylon gates looming larger and larger until they dwarfed even the largest of the temples of the lesser gods. Gold-and-electrum-cased obelisks glowed in sunlight. Crowds of priests and temple servants, supplicants, and officials made way for him.
Meren craned his neck back until he could see the flagpoles with their narrow banners hanging limply in the stillness of the fading day. He hadn't been to the temple of Amun often since the court had returned from the heretic's capital. Each time he did, he felt as if he should wear armor and watch for cobras in dark cor ners. The High Priest of Amun disliked him almost as much as he hated the king.
Abu, who drove the chariot, walked the horses be neath the monumental pylons. The closer they came to the temple, the more priests they encountered-richly dressed in the whitest linens and in electrum and precious stones. Those of higher rank, mostly noblemen in gleaming, bejeweled raiment, advanced upon their way with the aid of several fan-bearing servitors. Weaving obsequiously through the numerous gemlike processions were the ordinary priests, the Pure Ones, who conducted the everyday affairs of the temple, such as providing food for the bureaucracy and teaching boys in the temple school.
Abu left the chariot in care of the temple guards who had greeted them and allowed them to pass with salutes. Inside the temple walls Meren skirted the temple of Khons, son of Amun, and crossed several courts to a long, vaulted building to the rear of the sacred lake. Beyond the lake lay the temple itself, shrouded in its protective curtain of stone and precious metal. Passing the sentries who flanked the double doors of the treasury, Meren walked into the antechamber of the building. He was about to ask Abu to find the priest they sought when he heard his name spoken quietly from the shadows of a recess that held a votive statue of the king's father, Amunhotep the Magnificent.
'Meren, dear cousin. You really shouldn't be here.'
It was always the same. He turned abruptly, and felt as if he were looking into the polished bronze surface of a mirror. He faced a man who looked more charioteer than priest-tall, lean, and taut about the shoulders and legs, as though he spent most of his time in the exercise yard rather than the temple. Yet this man wore a finely spun linen overrobe that crossed over his shoulders in pleats and hung to his ankles and a heavy square pectoral necklace bearing the figure of Amun in electrum and turquoise. Heavy wristbands of the same materials matched the bracelets on his ankles.
'Greetings, Ebana.'
His cousin leaned on one wall of the niche and gave him one of those priestly smiles from beneath a long, elaborately plaited wig. Meren had been there when Ebana began to practice priestly demeanor. He had been eleven and his cousin but a year older. A glance at Abu caused the charioteer to fade away in search of the Pure One. Meren approached Ebana, who hadn't moved.
When he was close enough to speak without others overhearing, he said, 'I haven't seen you at court.'
Ebana studied Meren quietly for a few moments. 'I thought our resemblance would fade with the years, but we still look as if we shared the same womb.'
'People know our differences.'
'By the good god Amun, are there differences?' Ebana turned his head so that Meren could see more clearly the scar that ran from his temple, across his left cheek, and down his neck.
Meren shook his head. 'I tried to warn you that night.'
'So you say, but still Akhenaten set his minions upon me when I was in my bed, sleeping.'
'We've rowed upstream like this too many times,' Meren said. He sighed and threw out his hands in supplication. 'I have sworn on my ka. I've begged you to believe me. Why can't you-'
'Why can't I believe you?' Ebana thrust himself away from the wall and stuck his face close to Meren's. 'Bloody gods, cousin. Perhaps it's because I saw my wife and son die that night. No, too light a reason. Perhaps it's because I spent a few endless nights having my ribs broken. No, I have it. I can't believe you because I'm stupid. Yes, that's it'
Meren placed his hand on the folds of Ebana's robe where they crossed over his chest and gently shoved him.
Ebana allowed himself to be moved, but whispered violently as he crossed his arms and gave Meren another of his beatific smiles. 'The only reason you're still alive, dear cousin, is because you interceded for me with the young king.'
'All I want is peace between us.'
'I'm a Servant of the God, dear cousin,' Ebana hissed. 'I am one of the few who may perform the se- cret Rite of the House of the Morning. I am privileged to enter the sanctuary of the god Amun. And I remember how it was while you wallowed in perverse sin in the heretic's court-priests and their families cast out and starving, their retainers and slaves and the workmen who depended upon their patronage, all starving. Weeds grew in the forecourt of the sanctuary. Weeds! So don't ask me for peace, Meren. You won't get it.'
Ebana whirled away from him and stalked down the corridor, his white robes fluttering out to reveal the kilt he wore beneath the transparent garment. Meren clamped his will down on old memories and renewed grief. He must find Abu before word spread to the High Priest that he was inside the temple walls.
The treasury consisted of a series of long, narrow rooms flanking a central hall. Each room had only one entrance and no windows. Guards lined the hall and the columned entry foyer beyond the antechamber. Abu appeared in the foyer, ushering a priest.
Shaven head gleaming, his steps dragging, the priest stalled beside a column. Meren watched as the priest muttered to Abu, his hands waving frantically. He shook his head until Meren feared he would make himself dizzy, then scrambled back inside the treasury.
Abu returned to Meren and they went outside without speaking. Once submerged in the crowds of temple servants and priests, Abu gave Meren a rueful glance.
'He saw you with Lord Ebana.'
'And he didn't want to be seen talking to me,' Meren said.
'His superior, you see.'
