wheat, and a group of boys on their way to school at one of the temples. Ahead of him, on the threshold of Unas's house, stood Ipwet's friend, Nebera. He'd sent word ahead for the metalworker to attend him, since he'd made the complaint to the police.
A purple bruise marred his left cheek, and his lower lip was swollen on the same side. Kysen glanced at the wounds, but said nothing. The report he'd read hadn't mentioned that Nebera had struggled with the thief.
Nebera, apparently unconcerned, escorted Kysen through the house. The front rooms seemed undisturbed, but the bedchamber looked as if a herd of goats had blundered through it. Chests sat with their contents strewn around them. Kysen stepped over shifts, loincloths, and kilts. His sandal hit a necklace of glazed ceramic beads. He sifted through the coverings of the bed, which had been ripped from it to reveal its base of leather straps. The headrest lay on its side under a short-legged chair.
A casket rested on its side by the bed. Rolled or folded papyrus lay scattered around it. Kysen picked up the documents and examined each of them. Unfortunately they were the same household records he'd seen before- records of expenses, several family letters, receipts, a copy of Unas's meager will. He stuffed the papers back in the casket.
Then he picked up a faience kohl tube and put it back in the cosmetic box. The box sat beside a tall, overturned stand that had once supported a water jar. The jar lay in pieces on the floor, forcing Kysen and Nebera to avoid stepping on jagged shards. The vessel had been painted-a frieze of blue lotus flowers on a buff background. Next to the shards lay an oil lamp, also broken, with its contents spilled over the plastered floor. Some of the oil had seeped into the plaster.
'Very well,' Kysen said as he knelt beside the cosmetic box. 'Tell me what happened.'
Nebera dropped down beside him. 'I was sleeping on my roof three nights ago and woke when I heard a crash. I knew Ipwet had gone to stay with her parents and plan for Unas's burial, so it couldn't be her. I thought it was a thief who had heard that the house was uninhabited.'
'So you went to catch a thief alone? What if there had been more than one?'
'I–I didn't think. I was so angry that someone would steal from Ipwet when she was bereaved that I crossed from my roof to the other house. I went halfway down the inner stairs and listened. I heard someone moving around in the bedchamber, so I went all the way down the stairs and crept up to the door. It was dark, but I could hear someone moving around and cursing.'
'Whoever it was must have stumbled into that stand and dropped the lamp he was holding,' Kysen said as he examined a perfume jar shaped like a fish. 'You're sure the thief was a man?'
'Aye, lord. Though he kept his voice to a whisper, it couldn't have been a woman. He stumbled around in the chamber while I hid at the door. I think he was trying to find the way out, because he worked his way along the wall until he came to the threshold. I jumped on him as he came out of the room.'
'And fought with him, I see.'
Nebera gave him a pained smile. 'I grabbed him from behind and got my arm around his neck, but the cur jabbed me in the gut with his elbow, and while I was bent over, he hit me a couple of times and then ran.' Nebera touched his purple cheek. 'By the time my ears stopped ringing and I could stand without growing dizzy, he was gone.'
'So you never really saw him.'
'No, lord.'
'But you touched him,' Kysen said. 'You were close.'
'Yes, but there was no light.'
Kysen sighed. 'When you grabbed his neck, did you have to reach down?'
'No. Oh, I see.' Nebera sat back on his heels, and his gaze drifted blindly across the ruined room. 'No, I had to reach up a little.'
'You're sure.'
'Aye, lord, the man had to be tall, taller than I am. And-and he was smooth.'
'Smooth?'
'He wore only a kilt, and his upper body was well cared for. You understand. His skin wasn't that of a common laborer who works under the sun all day and cannot afford many baths and oils.' Nebera's gaze came back to Kysen, and his eyes widened. 'By the gods, he smelled of the perfume in skin oil. Not much, but some.'
'Could you distinguish the perfume?'
'No, lord. But it contained scents I've smelled before-like scent-cone smell.'
Kysen nodded. Scent cones were a common luxury. Placed on top of a person's wig, a shaped cone of ox tallow bearing herbs and spices melted, giving the wearer relief to sun-tortured skin and filling the nostrils with pleasurable scents. One of the most common was that which blended thyme and sweet marjoram. If the intruder had used a scent cone, some of the oil could still be on his skin.
'So,' Kysen said. 'This clumsy thief is tall and can afford oil or scent cones and labors not in the sun.'
'And I know he wasn't a metalworker.'
Kysen stared at Nebera, who rushed on. 'Those who work over crucibles full of liquid copper or gold, their hands and body catch the bitter smell of the metals.'
'Can you remember aught else? What of his hands?'
Rubbing his chin, Nebera lapsed into silence for a few moments.
'I don't know, lord. He was gone too quickly. Not a common thief, nor a practiced one. And now that I think upon it, perhaps not a thief at all. He must have been looking for something particular, although I don't know what.'
'And you can think of no reason why anyone would have cause to secretly search Unas's house?'
'No, lord. Unas was so unremarkable, and of no great importance. He had no riches, no secrets, no power of any magnitude. He worked diligently. He was devoted to Ipwet, but in truth, he was more fascinated with sacred writings and dusty old texts than anything else.'
When it was apparent that Nebera had nothing more to tell him, Kysen rose and inspected the rest of the house. The cellar, kitchen, and roof seemed untouched. He even studied the oven where he'd found the pottery shards, all to no avail.
Nebera accompanied him, but remained silent. His remarks had solidified Kysen's opinion that Unas had been a man of honest tedium. And any man who thought that his diligence and store of mythical tales could rival the devotion of a strong young buck like Nebera was a fool. Or had Unas known about his wife and Nebera all along? If he had, would the knowledge have driven him to throw himself off the scaffolding?
He would sooner believe that Nebera had decided to eliminate the inconvenient husband. It was unfortunate that Nebera's innocence had been attested to by a dozen royal artisans, for although Unas hadn't been wealthy, Ipwet would no doubt inherit the house and its contents. Since Nebera had yet to establish his own household apart from his parents, such a windfall would save him years of labor. A sufficient reason for murder to some.
Nebera was familiar with Unas's habits. He might have lain in wait for the priest on the scaffolding and pushed him off it, then gone to his labors in the royal workshops. Nebera would have expected the death to be seen as an accident. Such misfortunes happened all across the Two Lands, where work on monuments to the gods and to kings comprised much of the labor of the empire.
How troublesome that the man couldn't have been a murderer. Nebera, however, seemed an honest man. His reputation among his neighbors and fellow artisans was good. He was a skilled worker, easy of nature, content with his lot. Kysen had formed a like opinion in his dealings with him.
Nebera was like many young men he'd known, satisfied to be born into a station at the behest of the gods, who placed men in ranks from birth so that the kingdom functioned in perfect balance. Few rose above their birth, and when they did, it was according to the will of the divine ones. However, sometimes people grew to resent their fate.
He had to consider other possibilities regarding Unas's death. There was the demeanor of Ebana and Qenamun. Had they merely been taking advantage of the priest's death to kick a hornet's nest into Meren's face? Or were they hiding a greater secret?
When Unas's house had been invaded, where were Ebana and Qenamun? Futile to ask them-they would no doubt produce a gaggle of priests to attest to then-presence elsewhere. Too bad he couldn't send a swarm of men to question their friends, neighbors, fellow priests-but that would provoke a political furor.
Kysen left Nebera to close the house and stepped out into the street. The last coolness of night had vanished
