lovely than Beltis, he had no desire to be mauled.
'You fought with your master,' he said. 'On the day of his death you quarreled with him and ran away to the tomb-makers' village on the west bank.'
Soft laughter bubbled up at him, and Beltis laid her head to one side. 'A quarrel between lovers, my lord. We had many, and always my master begged me to forgive him. He needed me. Why, if he had to do without me for even one night, he was as engorged as a stud ox.'
'Spare me your stories of Hormin's lust. What was the quarrel about?'
'I wanted matching bracelets for my new broad collar, and he wouldn't have them made.' Beltis tossed her head. 'I am a woman of great beauty, and I deserve jewels and fine robes. Hormin made me so angry. He could have given me twenty bracelets if he weren't so greedy. I was angry, so I went away. After all, he is- was so much more generous after a few nights without me.'
Meren began to think that Hormin was not only a hot-bellied man, but a fool as well.
'You see, lord, my father is a sculptor in the tomb- makers' village, so it is not far for me to go. I went there yesterday after Hormin slapped me, and I waited for him to come for me. He did, and we made up our quarrel. He even took me to see his tomb before we left. It's on the edge of the nobles' cemetery. Then we came home.'
'And during all the time you were together, Hormin never spoke of going to the Place of Anubis, or of anyone who had threatened him?'
'No, great lord.' Beltis raised her voice. 'But I'm sure that Selket has accused me. She hates me for being beautiful while she is ugly and old. The brothers are the same. Imsety is stupid, and Djaper hates me.'
The concubine's rancor swelled as she related her tri als. 'They will all tell you lies about me, but I'll tell you the truth. Djaper hates me because I spurned him when he would have lain with me and because my son displaced him in the heart of Hormin. I tell you they killed my master so that my son and I wouldn't take their place in his will.'
'Enough.'
Meren shoved himself out of his chair. He took Beltis's hand and helped her rise. As soon as she was up, he dropped her hand and went to the door. While he was opening it, he spoke again.
'While he was with you, did Hormin spill perfume on himself?'
Beltis furrowed her brow. 'No, my lord.'
Meren stepped out of the bedchamber. He looked back at Beltis, and saw that she had resumed her posture with her breasts pressed forward. Determination seemed to be a great part of her character. Meren surveyed the gleaming nipples, then let his eyes slowly drift to Beltis's face.
'You say the wife and sons of Hormin are guilty of this murder. Over and over you have complained that they hate you. If they hate you so, Beltis, tell me why it wasn't you who was found buried in natron with a blade stuck in your pretty neck?'
4
After a few hours he'd grown used to the stench of the Place of Anubis, but it would take an eternity of the gods to accustom himself to the priest Raneb's screeching. Kysen tried not to wince as Raneb flapped his bony arms and cawed at a hapless apprentice who was unlucky enough not to know anything about Hormin, his life, or his death. The priest raised an arm, and Kysen sucked in his breath. He turned away and pretended to study one of the natron tables. The old miasma engulfed him, and he was a child again, bewildered and cowering under blows he was sure would kill him.
That clenched fist, the swinging arm, they belonged to Raneb, who would hurt no one. When he turned back to the group of men in the drying shed, he was calm. From the fire stokers to the highest priest, all had been questioned either by Kysen or one of his men. Further haranguing would yield nothing.
'Priest Raneb.'
Raneb shut his mouth in midscreech.
'Many thanks for your priceless assistance. The justice of Pharaoh is greatly aided by the authority of one such as you.'
It had taken him years to learn the use of flattery, to learn how to spy out one susceptible to it, to say ridiculous phrases as though they were as weighty as sacred chants from The Book of the Dead. Meren had taught him. The greatest difficulty lay in believing his father when he said that the receiver of the flattery wouldn't see through to its real purpose. To Kysen the end was transparent.
Chest puffed with self-importance, nose and cheeks red, the priest glanced about to assure himself that everyone had heard the words of the son of Lord Meren. Rocking back and forth, toe to heel, he folded his hands over his belly and asked what else he could do.
'At the moment, little.' Kysen shook his head in re gret. 'Much as I wish to remain, duty calls me away. But I would speak once more with the water carrier.'
The servant was brought forth, the others dismissed. Getting rid of Raneb was more difficult, but Kysen accomplished this task and set about the chore of allaying the fears of a peasant faced with a great lord. He couldn't do much about the charioteer's bronze corselet strapped across his chest, the warrior's wristguards, the weapons at his waist. The youth was one of the thousands of children of the poor who served in menial capacities in the temples, palaces, and households of the Two Lands. He would fear Kysen because he was common, landless, and of no importance to anyone but himself.
'Sit up, boy. I can't talk to you if your nose is in the dirt.'
The youth raised his upper body, but kept his eyes downcast as was proper. He wasn't much younger than Kysen. His face was wide from forehead to chin. He was short, and thin from too little food and too much work. His bottom lip had been chewed raw in the time since Kysen had last seen him. It wasn't surprising, since the poor water carrier was the only one at the Place of Anubis who had recognized Hormin.
'Your name is Sedi?'
Sedi's nose burrowed into the dirt again.
'Don't do that!' Kysen bit back a curse as Sedi's body went stiff and then trembled. 'By the phallus of Ra, they've been filling your head with silly tales of being carried off to a cell and beaten. Well, you can cast such fear from your heart. I don't beat innocent children.'
Sedi's mouth opened in astonishment, and Kysen grinned at — him. He lapsed into the slang of his childhood.
'Steady your skiff, brother.'
'Oh.'
Kysen dropped to one knee beside Sedi. 'Oh? You sound like a washer maid whose lover has thrown her down among the reeds at the riverbank. Surely you heard my origin in my speech.' Kysen held out his right hand, palm up. 'Do you think I got these scars from such light work as hefting a sword? And stop chewing your lip. It's bleeding.'
'Yes, lord.'
'You may speak freely to me. I give you permission, Sedi.'
'I did nothing! There was a crowd around the body, and I came to look. It's not my fault. I did nothing.'
Kysen put a hand on Sedi's shoulder, and the youth jumped.
'I asked you to speak freely, but I do expect you to make sense. You're beginning to sound like Raneb.'
Sedi made a choking sound and then lost the battle not to laugh. Through the hand that rested on the water carrier's shoulder, Kysen could feel tense muscles relax.
'Brother, don't you think I know the courage it took for you to come forward with your knowledge? Everyone knows it's best to leave the affairs of the great alone. If you speak before great men you are as a reed before pylons, no?'
'Yes, lord.' Sedi wet his lips and swallowed. 'But Raneb has been good to me, and I couldn't let evil flourish in the Place of Anubis.'
Kysen eased his body down to sit beside Sedi, and eased into his question as well. 'Then you understand that it's important for me to know how you recognized Hormin.'
