'I've heard nothing from Ese or Othrys,' Kysen said as he tried to stack city police reports into a pile. 'Have you read these? Old Sokar must be exhausted. One of these lists of disturbances and crimes took up an entire half page.'
Rubbing his forehead, Meren sighed. 'I should have known the killer's death would cause the rats to scatter. I should have pursued the cook immediately.'
'You can't be sure of the reason they left.'
When Meren didn't answer, Kysen tossed a bundle of documents at him. Meren caught them and threw them back at his son's head. Kysen dodged it and grinned.
'What were those words of great prudence you spoke to me not long ago? Ah, yes. You said that I shouldn't vex my heart over things that can't be changed.' Kysen waggled his eyebrows. 'You said it makes a man intemperate.'
Meren sat up straight and pounded the chair arm again. 'Am I intemperate? Am I not known for my calm, my lack of ire?'
'Then you're not disturbed by the knowledge that our new friend Lord Reshep is coming to take dinner with us tomorrow for the third time this week?'
Meren shoved himself to his feet so quickly his chair nearly tipped over. He caught it and shoved it out of his way.
'What did you say? No, I heard. I can't endure this much longer. To Reshep, people are but mirrors of his own perfection. I don't understand why Isis encourages him.'
'Bener says it's because she's never met anyone more magnificent than herself. She's in awe of him, and entertained by the new experience. I think she likes him because he's so much like her.'
'She is not. Isis may be a bit vain, but she has good sense and a kind soul. In some ways she's much more practical than Bener.'
Kysen looked doubtful.
'I suppose it's too late to claim the press of royal business,' Meren said.
Kysen nodded. 'Yes, because I think I hear his self-impressed voice. He must be in the great hall.'
'But it's not even morning!'
They both turned to face the door as Abu knocked and opened it. His face expressionless, the charioteer announced that Lord Reshep was in the great hall seeking speech with Meren.
'Tell him I'm sick,' Meren said.
'Oh, Father.'
Abu didn't leave; he simply fixed his gaze on Meren and waited.
'Father, the king asked you to become acquainted with Reshep.'
'I have, and I don't like him. He thinks he's prettier than my daughter. Every time we meet I get the feeling he expects me to fall to my knees and touch my forehead to the floor. Reshep is worse than Prince Rahotep. At least Rahotep's pride and conceit are mere varnish to cover his fears of unworthiness. Reshep really believes in his own perfection, his right to the best place, his unparalleled beauty. He makes me want to vomit.'
'This is what you'll tell the golden one?' Kysen asked.
Meren's brows knitted together, and his chin jutted forward. 'Yes. That's what I'll tell pharaoh, may he live forever in health and prosperity.'
Kysen exchanged glances with Abu, who spoke quietly.
'Lord, are you certain you want to make an enemy of this man?'
'He's of no consequence.'
'If the lord will allow me?'
'Speak, Abu. You will anyway.'
'The lord would be wise to remember his daughter. Making an enemy of this man might make an enemy of her.'
'She'll forget him.'
'As the lord's oldest daughter forgot her suitor.'
Meren glared at Abu. Tefnut had married the suitor he'd been certain she would scorn and forget.
'Very well, you interfering, presumptuous-'
'Your guest is waiting in the great hall, my lord.'
Kysen grinned again, provoking a stream of curses from Meren as he stomped out of the office. With Kysen trailing behind him, Meren walked into the great hall. The chamber was shrouded in shadows that obscured the lotus-flower tops of the columns. Alabaster lamps rested at the four corners of the master's dais, and a servant stirred a breeze with an ostrich feather fan. The breeze caused the lamplight to waver. Shadows danced across the plastered and painted floor of the dais, and over the face of Lord Reshep. Meren strode across the hall and stopped abruptly. His lower jaw came unmoored. Reshep lounged in the gold-and-ebony master's chair, looking as if he were its owner. Meren resisted the urge to haul the intruder out of his chair-a great feat, since Reshep was admiring the hall as if he owned that too. Then Meren saw Isis.
His daughter was perched on a cushion at Reshep's feet, and she was murmuring something in a near- whisper.
Meren quietly moved nearer while he signaled Kysen to make no sound. He heard bits of a song, something about love mixed throughout her body. That tune ended, luckily, but then he heard another begin. She was singing that her heart chases his love.
Meren quickened his steps and said loudly, 'A late visit, Reshep.'
To his consternation, Reshep didn't get up. His wide, thin lips spread out in a smile Meren preferred to call a smirk. As Meren came up the dais steps with Kysen right behind him, Reshep held out his hand. Isis placed a delicate gold wine cup in it.
'I'm so pleased you're still awake, Meren.'
He'd been about to tell the young man to get his ass out of the master's chair, but being addressed without his title robbed Meren of speech. He planted himself in front of Reshep and gaped.
Kysen wasn't so aghast. 'You forget your manners. Rise and address my father as you should, Reshep.'
'I have been doing that,' Reshep said with an even wider smile.
Meren watched the corners of his mouth reach the edge of his face. 'Why do you smile at me as if you're about to disclose some amazingly pleasurable revelation? Isis, you should be asleep.'
'We knew the best time to find you alone would be late at night,' Isis said, without concern for Meren's irritation.
Meren looked at his daughter with suspicion. Only yesterday she'd explained how her aunt, Idut, had given her the secret to making a friend, or ensnaring a lover. 'Aunt Idut says that a man loves nothing better than talking about himself. He charms himself with such talk the way a snake charms a mouse.'
Isis had gone on to say that she'd found that an admirer's attention remained on her much longer if she asked him about his life, his titles, his family. Reshep was the only man who hadn't needed encouragement to propound on such subjects.
Suspicious, Meren asked, 'Why would you need to find me alone? And I'm not alone.' He exchanged mystified glances with Kysen.
'Kysen doesn't count,' Isis replied as she placed her hand on Reshep's arm.
Even at this late hour Reshep was freshly bathed and dressed in a kilt that looked as if it had only been worn for a few moments. Meren felt dirty and disheveled standing in front of him.
'What do you want?' Meren asked without bothering to conceal his impatience.
'I want to give you most fortunate news,' Reshep said. His smile spread farther and threatened to climb to his ears. 'I have consented to allow Isis to be my wife.'
Folding his arms over his chest, Meren buried his fury in humor and laughed lightly. 'I think not.'
'Naturally it took Isis a while to persuade me, but after she told me of the greatness of your family- what?'
Reshep paled and appeared to sink inward. He looked lost for a moment, disbelieving, then bewildered.
'You refuse me? You refuse me.' The young man said it over and over, as if to force himself to believe the impossible.
Meren had controlled his anger at the man who presumed to court his daughter and nearly make her commit
