Eater of souls

They made their way through the house and across the grounds, cutting through the garden, skirting the pleasure pool with its complement of small boats. Kysen led the way through a door in the long wall that separated the family's quarters from the barracks that housed the charioteers. Unlike the smaller residence in Thebes, Golden House possessed quarters for over thirty charioteers who assisted Meren as the Eyes of Pharaoh. Next to the low barracks that stretched almost the length of the guard wall lay a modest two-story house. This was the home of Abu, Meren's chief aide, who, until Kysen had sent for him, had been overseeing Meren's affairs in Thebes.

A servant was holding the front door open. Kysen hurried inside while Reia dismissed the servant. Abu was waiting in the reception hall in a chair amid piles of leather document cases, several caskets, and a discarded scimitar. He rose when Kysen entered.

'You sent for me, lord? I left Iry in charge at Thebes as you instructed.'

Nodding, Kysen didn't miss the emphasis. Abu had trained Meren in the arts of a warrior. He'd saved Meren's life in battle, and Meren had saved his. Perhaps no one knew Kysen's father so well, or held close to his heart so many secrets. Few had the rank to give orders to Abu at all, and up to now, when Kysen had occasion to do so, it usually had been on behalf of his father. Kysen glanced over his shoulder at Reia. The charioteer was standing in the middle of the room where he could see anyone who tried to enter from any of the side chambers that opened onto the hall.

Drawing near Abu, Kysen spoke quietly. 'Has my father spoken to you of this matter concerning the Great Royal Wife Nefertiti?' He waited impatiently while Abu hesitated. 'I can see that he has, so don't bother lying.'

'I would never lie to the lord's son.'

'You would if my father ordered it. Oh, don't argue. There isn't time.' Kysen went on to tell the charioteer what had happened in the past few days. 'So I can't convince him to leave this evil undisturbed.'

Abu remained impassive. 'When he has reached a decision, the lord is as unwavering as the path of Ra in the sky.'

'By the blood of Osiris, I think you know more about this than I do.' Abu merely gazed at him. 'You do! Damnation to you. I suppose it's useless to order you to tell it to me.'

'Yes, lord.'

'Then you understand even better than I that Lord Meren will be in danger from the moment he makes this journey to see the queen's former cook. And he insists on going alone. Great lords do not travel unaccompanied, especially not the Eyes of Pharaoh.'

'There is nothing that can be done to prevent the lord from steering this course,' Abu said. His face still held no expression. 'The lord will risk his life in this quest, even should the gods try to prevent it.'

Kysen studied Abu and at last caught a fleeting look of concern before the charioteer masked it. 'You know why I called you here.'

'Yes, lord. To protect your father.'

'He won't allow me to go with him. He's ordered me to conduct my own inquiries. Among my special acquaintances.'

'Then your life is in danger as well.'

'Oh, no. You're not dispatching a squad of giant nursemaids after me. They'll send every thief and drunkard scurrying from sight. Just make sure someone follows Lord Meren at all times.' Before he could go on, Reia signaled and nodded in the direction of the front entrance.

'Why?' Bener was standing in the doorway in festive garb, her gleaming black wig falling over her shoulders. 'Why is it necessary to have Father followed without his knowledge? What is happening?'

Kysen uttered a sound that was half groan and half sigh while Abu and Reia bowed to his sister. 'Bener, you shouldn't be in the barracks.'

'If Father is in danger, I want to know about it,' she replied as she walked into the hall.

Her filmy gown rained pleats down to the floor. The smooth sweeps of kohl that lined her eyes, the glistening green malachite on her lids, the gold, turquoise, and lapis broad collar draped from her shoulders, all combined to make her look older than her sixteen years. Bener wasn't as beautiful as her younger sister. Her almond-shaped eyes tended to bore into people's characters with the precision and facility of a bow drill. Her chin, though small, recalled the strength and outline of a stonemason's mallet, and her nose was endowed with a little of the strong thrust of her father's. Nevertheless, her observant humor attracted the friendship of aged servants and young princely warriors alike. At the moment it was Kysen's regret that Bener had also inherited her father's strong will.

When he didn't answer, Bener walked over to Kysen and folded her arms over her chest. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing, by my ka.'

'Oh, of course,' Bener said with a guileless smile and wide-open eyes. 'Nothing is wrong. Father moves about the house like an abandoned soul in the desert. You alternately glare at him and plead with him for hours. Abu appears mysteriously without Father's knowledge or orders. And my powerful sire, the Eyes of Pharaoh, one of those few in all the world who have the honor to be called Friend of the King, my father has suddenly decided to leave court in the middle of a perilous diplomatic skirmish with the Hittite emissary. In order to visit his old nurse.'

'Yes,' Kysen snapped. 'Now find Isis and go to the chariot. I'll be there in a moment. And stop interfering. These affairs are not in a woman's domain.'

He should have expected this of Bener. She had a clever heart and more than a little of Meren's circuitous reasoning power and abiding suspiciousness. Kysen wished she was still distracted by the steward and his excess watermelons.

Bener narrowed her eyes, and he caught a glimpse of shining green-and-black paint that only enhanced the glint she directed at him. 'That is what you told me before I discovered who killed Uncle Sennefer.'

'Women manage households and bear children,' Kysen said. 'They do not concern themselves with the tasks of men.'

'Kysen, you're a fool. Do you really think that the wives who bear sons to their husbands, the mothers who nurse all male children, be they kings or water carriers, do you think these women have no influence upon the actions of those husbands and sons?'

Having never heard such an argument, Kysen only stared at his sister. She gave a little snort, turned sharply, and left them.

Kysen muttered a curse while glaring at the door through which Bener had vanished. 'I must go, Abu. Father will be waiting for us. We must play host to this country lord who seeks a place at court. Lord Meren leaves for the cook's house tomorrow morning. Be careful.'

'He won't know he has a second shadow.'

Feeling much relieved now that Abu was alerted, Kysen joined Bener in his chariot. He wasn't surprised that Isis was late and would follow separately; she possessed a fragile, slender-necked beauty similar to that of Queen Nefertiti, and the work she did to enhance it consumed many hours. He and Bener arrived at the family's quay as Meren was greeting the first guests.

The pleasure yacht Joy of the Nile hadn't the sleek, spare menace of Meren's Wings of Horus. She was much wider and longer than that black-and-gold cruiser. Joy had a low, curved prow and high stern ending in a carved lotus flower, with a painted gold castle at either end and a long deckhouse set amidship.

The sides of the ship were painted with bands of lotus designs in white and green. But what made the ship burst into reflected flames in the lowering sun were the sheet gold that encrusted the prow and stern and the alternating bands of gilt paint that separated the lotus patterns. A frieze of Nile-blue faience tiles repeated the lotus design on the deckhouse, set off by borders of more gilt paint.

Guests were walking up the gangplank, which was draped with garlands of lotus, poppies, and cornflowers. Meren awaited them at the end of the walk in festival costume. Kysen imagined that moments ago his father's gaunt face had been tainted by a scowl. Unlike many courtiers, Meren preferred a simple kilt and sandals to the complex finery his position required him to wear. Now he stood on the deck of his opulent ship wearing a short kilt covered by a robe rich with thousands of pleats and cinched by a wide belt of gold and red jasper beads. More gold, jasper, and lapis lazuli glittered from his wrists, shoulders, and the band that encircled his heavy wig.

Kysen remembered the first time he'd seen his father in full court dress. He'd fallen to his knees, certain that