and neither moved.
'This is a matter for the temple. I will investigate.'
'Let me go, Ebana.'
He felt the grip on his wrist tighten until his hand was almost numb. Sighing, Meren whipped his wrist back against Ebana's thumb and then yanked in the opposite direction, freeing himself. Ebana balanced on the balls of his feet, but Meren made no other move.
'Why are you so worried about my presence here?'
Ebana's body tensed, then the muscles in his face, arms, and legs seemed to slacken. 'Because you transgress. It is for us of the temple to seek out the criminal responsible for this-this-'
'Murder,' Meren said as he tapped the casket with a papyrus roll. He resumed filling the casket with papyri. 'Do you know when Qenamun last opened this casket?'
'No.'
Meren rested his forearm on the casket lid and contemplated his cousin. 'You're not a fool. As soon as you realized this was murder, you began to make inquiries. My charioteers will be here soon to question everyone who dealt with Qenamun. Neither they nor I will leave until we get the answers we need.'
They stared at each other, but broke off at the sound of tapping. The noise grew louder until the high priest marched into the room with his stick. Two guards lumbered in after him.
'What is this invasion of the sacred place of Amun!' Parenefer's bellow rebounded off the plastered walls.
'I've already sent word to Vizier Ay and his majesty of this misfortune. Presumptuous young barbarian, get yourself from here at once.'
Parenefer's face had turned the color of red jasper as he leaned on his stick and paused to catch his breath. Then, at his signal, the guards gripped their scimitars, ready to draw them. Ebana backed away from him, and Meren took a step away from the shelves so that his right arm was unhindered.
Parenefer said more calmly, 'I'm certain the divine one will agree that the priests of Amun are more capable of handling this matter than an outsider.'
'And I'm sure that his majesty wishes to search out the evil that has taken place in the house of his divine father Amun himself-through me.'
Parenefer walked over to the table where Qenamun's body lay and glanced at it. Yellow light from a lamp flickered in the depths of his eyes, but they showed no reaction to the sight of the dead priest. His voice slithered around the room.
'You're a Friend of the King, Meren, but make no mistake. You test your power when you tread upon the sacred prerogatives of Amun.'
Out of the corner of his eye Meren watched the knuckles of a guard grow white on the hand that gripped the hilt of his scimitar. The air in the workroom was foul, and it suddenly seemed thick with the smell of malice.
'There has already been one untoward occurrence this day,' Parenefer said.
He lifted his walking stick and touched the basket containing the dead snakes. Something inside shifted, causing the container to shiver, and Parenefer smiled at Meren.
'None of us want another misfortune. Do we, my lord Meren?'
Chapter 11
Parenefer directed a jackal's smile at Meren, and he felt the flesh on his back and arms prickle. He'd been certain none of the cobras had been alive. Hadn't he? The interior of the basket had been dark, but he would have seen movement. The shifting of the basket had merely been the settling of its contents.
But if the cobras were dead, why was Ebana watching the basket? He heard Parenefer chuckle as he worked the tip of his walking stick underneath the lid.
'You shouldn't evoke the wrath of the king of the gods, Meren.'
Just as a gap opened between the lid and the container, a shout boomed at them from down the corridor.
'My lord Meren!'
Hoping his relief didn't show in his face, Meren smiled sweetly at Parenefer before raising his voice in answer. Footsteps pounded toward them, and in moments the room filled with tall bodies in leather and bronze armor. Six charioteers crowded into the chamber, came to a halt, and saluted him. From their midst emerged Kysen, followed by Abu. Kysen inclined his head toward the high priest, but addressed Meren.
'You sent for us, my lord?'
'Yes,' Meren said. 'By the word of pharaoh, we're commanded to inquire into the death of this priest, Qenamun, which has defiled the sacred house of Amun.'
Meren turned to Parenefer. 'Perhaps I should summon more men, first prophet, for your safety. I could station a squadron about your residence, assign some of my own men to be your bodyguards, distribute charioteers in every part of the temple, to prevent further evil deeds until I discover who has done this terrible thing.'
The high priest nearly strangled his walking stick. 'I have sufficient guards for the purpose.'
'But how do you know one of them isn't the criminal?' Meren asked softly.
Parenefer raised his arm and pointed at Meren with a crooked finger. 'Someday you'll get too clever for your own well-being, boy.'
The old man tapped and stomped his way out of the room, taking his guards with him. Meren told his men to question everyone who could be found to have entered the House of Life over the past day. They wouldn't find them all, but they had to try. Kysen was studying the body when Ebana broke his long silence and addressed Meren.
'So you've won this skirmish.'
Meren dropped two more papyri into Qenamun's cedar-and-ebony casket. 'I grow weary of your obstructions. Are you going to tell me who was here yesterday, or shall I tell pharaoh you refused to aid in the inquiries he commanded me to make?'
'It will do you no good, all this poking and prying,' Ebana said. 'Do you know how many people come and go from this temple every day? Hundreds, nay, thousands, from all parts of the empire. Worshipers, supplicants, stewards and officials from the estates of Amun, government officers, sacred singers, priestesses, students and their teachers, subjects in need of official wills or other legal documents. I could go on.'
'No, just tell me who might want Qenamun dead.'
Ebana walked over to Meren and leaned on the table beside the casket. 'Qenamun was a lector priest. I suppose he might have offended someone in his practice of magic. Look on the table beside his body. That wax figure is of the Hittite king.'
Kysen picked up the figurine and read the inscription. 'He's right.'
'A most secret request from General Horemheb,' Ebana said. 'So you see it could even have been a foreigner who put the cobras in Qenamun's way.'
'I've found, cousin, that murder is often a crime of intimacy. In this instance, someone who was familiar with Qenamun's possessions and habits. Someone who knew his way to this room, knew when he could expect Qenamun to be absent from it and for how long. Someone like a priest.'
Kysen wandered over to them. 'And someone who had cause to hate him. Someone who, if I remember rightly, detested him because he created discord as lovingly as a spider spins a web.'
Meren lifted a brow. 'Ah, yes,' he said. 'How did you describe Qenamun, a scorpion? Did he do more to you than ruin one of your promising assistants? Was he a danger to you?'
With an abrupt lunge, Ebana stepped between Kysen and Meren so that his body blocked Kysen's view. He grabbed Meren's arm and twisted it to reveal the sun-disk scar. Only Meren heard his whisper.
'Dearest cousin, that scorpion was just as much a danger to me as the old king was to you.'
Meren winced as Ebana's fingers dug into the flesh around the scar. Ebana knew the old heretic king had branded him with the symbol of his personal god. Was he merely telling Meren that there had been no danger, or was he implying knowledge of Akhenaten's death?
For a moment, the workroom faded as his inadvertent role in the old king's death flashed through his
