the quern. Then the rough flour was taken to the kitchens, where maids ground it further.
Meren walked around the perimeter of the courtyard, seeing nothing but ordinary equipment-stacks of extra winnowing fans, yokes for oxen, grain baskets. Under another shelter near the awning hung water jars. One of them rested askew within the ropes used to suspend it.
At last he came to the awning, beneath which still hovered the grain grinders. As he approached, he glanced at the querns. The yellow one now bore a grindstone that matched its color, and the black grindstone had been put on top of a black quern. Each set rested on a woven rush mat.
At Meren's command, the stones were removed and the mats lifted. His thoroughness yielded nothing, however, except a view of more packed earth and dust. The grinding area was next to the granary in which Anhai had been found, but appeared to bear no mark of her presence. Again Meren felt oddly disturbed by how normal everything appeared despite the presence of death.
'Why would she come here?' Meren muttered to himself.
'You spoke, Father?'
'Ah, Ky. Zar is watching Sennefer?'
'And I put one of the men outside your door. I've finished looking at the granary. There's nothing in it but grain, and I dug deep to see if there was anything below her body.'
Meren nodded. Sweeping his arm around to indicate the courtyard, Meren said, 'All this is a great puzzle. Why would Anhai come to this place? And what caused her death? There's no sign of a wound upon her, no mark of poison, no trace of evil magic, nothing. It's as if she decided to go to sleep in that granary, and her ka fled her body.'
'Perhaps the gods simply ordained that she die now,' Kysen said.
'Now, now of all times, when she seemed so full of humor, health, and venom? And if she just died, why would someone put her in a granary?' Meren asked. 'I like not this coincidence-her dying just when we come to Baht for this special task. Gods, this business has distracted me. Have you received word that our visitor has departed?'
Kysen gave him a rueful glance. 'Reia said the ship is still moored to the bank.'
'Fiends of the netherworld!' Meren lowered his voice again. 'Go to him and ask him to make haste in his departure.'
Widening his eyes, Kysen thrust out his hands and shook his head. 'You forget, Father. You're one of the few in the world who could even imagine saying such a thing to him. If you want him to leave, you're going to have to persuade him yourself.'
'Damnation.' Meren rubbed his eyes, then looked at his smiling son. 'You're amused by my predicament, but it won't be so amusing if this turns out to be murder and he is here within reach of a killer.'
'No, and that's why you must be the one to persuade him to sail out of harm's reach. He'll listen to you.'
'All right. I'm going, but you'll have to stay here and make sure none of our unwanted guests leaves. Curse it. I was hoping to get rid of them today. Who stayed here last night? There was Sennefer, and there was Anhai and Bentanta. At least my other uncles couldn't come.'
'Don't forget Nebetta and the loquacious Hepu, her upright spouse,' Kysen said. 'And Wah. Antefoker's family and the rest of the neighbors went home.'
'And Ra? Has he come home?'
'I don't know, Father.'
'Very well, I'm going now. And Ky, be certain to tell the men searching the house to look for any document or letter that looks suspicious.' Meren withdrew the scrap he'd found on Anhai. 'We're looking for something this could have come from.'
'That's awfully small, Father.'
'It may be nothing, but we have to be certain. Also, none of the family or guests leaves Baht. You know what that means, don't you?'
'They won't like being treated like criminals.'
'Then use diplomacy.'
'There's nothing diplomatic about posting charioteers at the gates, Father. Nothing at all.'
Meren had no sympathy to spare for Kysen. In his view, he had the worse task. He had to persuade his mischievous sovereign to return to the stifling and rigid ceremony of court. Without bothering to change his clothing, Meren left by the side gate in the granary forecourt used by those making grain deliveries. He skirted around the deserted threshing floors.
He drew little notice from the groups of winnowers working on a late batch of grain. Using pairs of wooden winnowing fans, they bent over piles of grain, scooped it up, and tossed it high in the air. The light chaff caught in the breeze and was blown away in golden clouds. As Meren left them behind, he heard them begin a winnowing song.
Retracing his journey of last night, he found the king's ship, as Kysen had said, still moored to the bank. Plainly garbed royal sailors and bodyguards lounged about in the shade of palm trees. Only to Meren was their tension and alertness apparent. His own anxiety reached greater heights when he realized that the king wasn't on his yacht. He was out in the middle of the river, spearfishing, alone except for Karoya.
Spitting forth every curse learned in barracks and on battlefields, Meren commandeered a skiff and poled out to the king's craft. As he neared the boat, Tutankhamun heaved his spear into the water with a cry. Pulling it back, he lifted a long silver fish into the craft, where Karoya removed it. The king then looked up as Meren drew alongside.
'Meren, a surprise. Did you see me get that one? What a size he is.'
Bending low from his sitting position, Meren said coolly, 'Thy majesty's prowess is bruited about the kingdom. Thou art Horus, Strong-Bull-arisen-in-Thebes, Golden Horus, Mighty-in-strength, Majestic-in-appearance, given life forever.'
Arched brows drew together. The king threw his spear down and glared at Meren. At Meren's signal, Karoya picked up the weapon and exchanged places with him. Pharaoh sat down in the boat and pointed to a spot. Meren seated himself. As the Nubian rowed himself out of hearing, pharaoh scowled at his visitor.
'You're mocking me! Because I haven't done as I promised-but I was going to leave. I only wanted a few more hours of freedom.'
Tutankhamun's shoulders slumped, and he seemed to lose the fire that prompted his outburst. 'I have these dreams, Meren. I'm lying in the throne room in Thebes on a couch of ebony, on my back with my arms crossed, holding my scepters, dressed in all my finest jewels, and wearing the cobra and vulture of Egypt. My eyes are closed, as if I'm sleeping, but I'm awake, and I can see. It's like I'm a falcon hovering in the air above myself. All is in darkness except my couch, and I can hear the vastness of the throne room.
'Then the doors open, and pairs of priests march in, bearing vats of molten gold suspended on poles between them. Ay is their leader, and he comes to the couch. He raises his arms and shouts that I must be preserved for the well-being of the kingdom.'
Tutankhamun swallowed hard before going on. 'Then the priests bring forth the first vat, tip it, and pour the molten gold over me. I feel it splash over my body, hot, searing, scalding me. But it doesn't splash away. It clings to me. I scream, but they don't hear me, and I can't move. They keep pouring it over me until I'm encased in gold. It runs into my eyes, my mouth, my nose. I'm suffocating, but I don't die. The gold cools and hardens, and I'm left there screaming and suffocating. Forever.'
This had ever been the problem. Pharaoh was so young, and saddled with the responsibility of divinity and an earthly empire as well. That haunted look of sadness had returned to the king's face.
Casting caution aside, Meren put his hand on the boy's shoulder. 'I'm sorry, majesty. And I will try to ease your burdens when I return to court, but there is danger here. There has been a death at my house.'
All sadness vanished from the king's features, to be replaced with eagerness and excitement. 'A death! Whose?'
'My cousin's wife, the Lady Anhai, divine one.'
'Oh, are you grieved?'
'I regret her death, but she was a woman with a scimitar for a tongue, which she concealed beneath a humorous and charming manner.'
'What happened?'
