Stepping into the boat, he shoved off, using the oar that lay within the vessel. Water rippled around him, obsidian-black and cool. His entry disturbed a hen-bird, who scrambled out of the water to the cries of her nestlings. Ebana glided between the tall papyrus fronds, taking care not to go too near the thick stands. The way his fortune had been going, he might disturb a crocodile or nudge a hippo.
The skiff slowed, then stopped. He sat quietly, listening to frogs and insects and the slap of water against the boat. He tightened his grip on his spear. If the need for secrecy hadn't been so great, he would never have risked crocodiles and drowning, not for the man he was to meet here.
A hazy dash of pink caught his eye-a rose lotus.
Moments went by, and as they did, it felt as if rats were doing a feast dance inside his gut. A curse wafted to ward him over the water. Backstroking with his oar, he turned the skiff to meet another, sliding into the marsh from the river. The two craft drew alongside each other.
The newcomer spoke without preamble. 'He knows!'
'Absurd,' Ebana said. 'Don't let him drive you like a frightened ox, or you'll betray yourself and us.'
'I was with him today, and I tell you Meren knows something. Why is he so vigilant? He doesn't dabble in every accident and abrupt demise that comes to his notice.'
'Because he can smell intrigue as a hound scents the oryx. It's his way, and I have prepared for it.'
'He hasn't smelled me,' the other said, his voice rising. 'I swear it. The fault isn't mine.'
'What are you speaking of?'
'Naught, naught. By the wrath of Set, I hate marshes. Too many creatures of the night.'
Ebana studied the newcomer, whose head jerked from side to side as if he expected to be swallowed by a hippo at any moment. The fool was losing what mettle he possessed, and for so little reason-unless he had something to conceal.
'Hark you,' Ebana said in a quiet, precise voice, 'if your fear-blind haste has exposed us, I'll kill you myself.'
That swiveling head twisted back to face him.
'No, no. No. Don't disturb yourself. I'll deal with the matter.'
'Just keep yourself haltered, you fool. We were counting on the king and the others being distracted by this Hittite quandary, but with Meren sniffing the air, the high one thinks we should bide a while.'
'Too late.'
'Why?'
A hand came out to grip the side of Ebana's skiff.
'Too late. I got word early this morning. The work has begun.'
'Curse it.'
'Now do you see? By the time I could reach them, the acts will already have been committed. I expect shipments within a few weeks.'
Ebana glanced down at the hand strangling the bundles of papyrus stalk that comprised the edge of the skiff. He could feel the tautness in the other's arm through the fabric of the boat. Infusing his voice with calm, he leaned over and unfastened the hand from his craft.
'Nothing has changed. Go about your affairs as is your habit. That's all you must do. And don't let my cousin's machinations make you flinch. He knows nothing. Nothing at all. Now go. We're in greater danger from the river than from Meren.'
Ebana watched his ally disappear through a screen of reeds. Something was wrong. Something more than just the inconvenient death of a priest. Whatever it was, he was beginning to think that this particular ally must be dealt with-but not until after he'd accomplished the task to which he'd been set.
They had climbed out of the wide ribbon of green that was the Nile Valley, high onto the desert floor, and then into a valley formed by steep limestone cliffs. Meren climbed down from his chariot and handed the reins to Abu, who led the team away to be watered. Behind him came Kysen and Tanefer, Djoser, Rahotep, and several others.
The morning had been spent downing ibex, ostriches, and deer. Tanefer had found this deep valley where enough moisture gathered to favor the growth of vegetation around a minute pool. By the end of harvest, the water would evaporate. Tanefer's hunters had erected a net at one end of the valley, and the hounds had driven the game in from the other end.
Meren took refuge beneath a portable sunshade. A body servant came forward with a water bottle. He poured some over his face, which was covered with a layer of fine sand grains and dust, before drinking. He wiped his mouth and watched Kysen and Tanefer direct a hunter who was lashing a gazelle to a carrying pole.
Tanefer had organized this hunt, and Meren was grateful for the distraction; he'd managed to extract a period of grace from the king. A fortnight to decide whether to risk allowing pharaoh to fight the Hittites. Had it been so long since the day the priest had been discovered at the foot of the statue at the god's gate? Meren gulped down more water as Kysen left his host and joined him.
Tanefer was busy directing servants, hunters, and hounds. Kysen took a water bottle from a servant, dismissed him, and dropped down on a reed mat at Meren's feet. They swigged water and watched the preparations for the return to the city. Not far off, other men retreated to the shade of canopies, joking and laughing.
'Where is Ahiram?' Kysen asked.
'He discovered that Rahotep was supplying a brace of hounds and refused to attend,' Meren said. He wiped gritty sweat from his forehead, then touched a cut on Kysen's inner forearm. 'You're holding your bow too close.'
Kysen grunted. 'My right wheel hit a rock and I lost my balance.'
Meren nodded, and they lapsed into silence as a breeze riffled down the length of the valley and cooled their skin.
'Has nothing come of your conversation with the lector priest yesterday?' Kysen asked.
'Naught. Qenamun's manner is as deft as his reputed skill with magic.'
'Ebana dislikes him.'
'So you said. However, being a schemer hardly distinguishes Qenamun from the rest of us.' Meren waved his hand toward a group containing Djoser, Tanefer, and Rahotep. 'Who among our friends does not indulge in stratagems and maneuvers? Rahotep is jealous of Tanefer-though he spouts accolades to his own perfection-and seeks advancement over everyone from pharaoh. Djoser's blood is turning to bile as his envy of us all increases.'
'But they're outmatched in scheming by Parenefer and Ebana.'
Meren gave his son a glance of sympathy. Kysen had spent the last few days attempting to inquire among Unas's fellow priests about his work, movements, and sympathies, only to have Ebana insist upon being present at each exchange. Thus he'd learned nothing of consequence.
Their only progress had been Abu's discussions with Ipwet and Nebera. At the time her husband died, Ipwet was in the company of several other young wives making barley bread. Inquiries at the royal workshops resulted in Abu concluding that Nebera had arrived there too early to have made a side trip to meet and kill Unas.
'It may be that I'm seeing evil and scheming where there is none,' Meren said.
'Still, the porter Huni was readmitted to duty just in time to sleep through a fall to the death. I don't like the coincidence. But when I questioned the chief of porters, he said he'd decided to give Huni another chance to serve. Since Ebana was there when I saw him, I can't be sure if he was telling the truth.'
Meren sighed and took another sip of water. 'Suspicions plague me as well, but we can hardly fall to beating the man with such little cause. He's under the protection of the temple.'
'I hate inquiries among the great,' Kysen said as he rubbed his injured forearm. 'And that cursed temple swarms with people, yet no one admits knowing anything.'
'You haven't found the boy who brought the message to Unas, have you?'
Kysen shook his head. 'And no one at the temple admits sending for him. Ipwet says she paid little attention when the boy spoke to Unas, so she can't be sure what he really said.'
'Poor Unas,' Meren said. 'He doesn't seem to have been important to anyone.'
'Hark you,' Kysen said. 'That porter will have some accident soon, or vanish to one of the temple estates on
