'Yes, Father.'
'I'll think of someone to purge this place of evil before I go to the palace. You'll have to attend Mugallu's escort, General Labarnas, and then trace what is known of these other murders.
'And Ky-' Meren was looking at Tcha, who was still crouched in his corner looking dirty and miserable.
'Yes, Father?'
'Go home first and put on your amulets of protection.'
The overseer of the Audience Hall controlled access to pharaoh. His lineage was said to extend back to the rulers of the delta before the Two Lands became one. Called Userhet, he was of an age to be pharaoh's grandfather, steeped in dignity and knowledge of protocol, and impossible to coerce. He had been at court since the years in which pharaoh's father had earned the name Amunhotep the Magnificent. Thick, furry eyebrows dominated his face in spite of his wedge of a nose. A mane of silver hair was receding toward the crown of his head except at the spot over the middle of his forehead. This pattern made his forehead seem higher than it was.
Userhet wore sandals with specially padded soles so that the hours he spent standing in front of doors that gave access to the king wouldn't ruin his feet. Known for his aversion to children, youths, and young maidens, he had the habit of keeping dried chickpeas in a beaded pouch suspended from his belt. If a noble child became too boisterous, he would pelt the offender with a chickpea. Despite his years, the overseer retained much of his strength. It was put to use occasionally when a rowdy courtier disturbed the serenity of the palace or when Userhet was called upon to eject some unfortunate who incurred pharaoh's wrath. Courtiers and government officials alike feared him.
At the same time, they sought his goodwill, assuming that he could-if he pleased-get them past whatever closed door barred their way and into the sacred presence of the king. Userhet had never denied the truth of this assumption; neither had he affirmed it. He simply let the assumption remain and the rumors of his influence sail around the court.
At the moment the overseer had taken up his position before a door in the massive walls surrounding one of the royal pleasure gardens behind the palace. Outside the walls, courtiers walked up and down paths lined with incense trees, palms, and sycamores. The royal bodyguard lined the entire perimeter of the garden. Userhet leaned on his staff of office and patiently listened to Prince Djoser and Lord Reshep.
Djoser had been born into a family famed for its warrior pharaohs, but having failed as a warrior, he had acquired a desire to insert himself into pharaoh's most intimate circle. Obtaining royal access for Reshep was but his latest step toward his goal of being seen as a man of power. How Reshep would further Djoser's aspirations was a mystery to Userhet. Perhaps the prince expected the man to use his fabled charm on pharaoh for Djoser's benefit.
Userhet was good at listening to noble outrage and entreaty; he could do it for hours. Such endurance wasn't usually necessary, but in Djoser's case, Userhet's stamina was being severely tested. His patience was failing; the prince was making the mistake of whining. Userhet detested whiners.
'Why, why why?' Djoser moaned. 'I was to be allowed into the presence of the divine one at this very hour.'
'Thine is the voice of truth, O prince,' the overseer said without moving away from the door he blocked.
Lord Reshep sighed. 'Tell him who I am.'
'I know who you are, Lord Reshep. No one may enter.'
Lord Reshep engaged in a staring battle with Userhet. Userhet won when Reshep turned away to whisper something to Djoser. Djoser squinted at the older man.
'Has anyone bribed you to keep me from the king?'
Userhet had been resting most of his weight on his staff; now he drew himself up as straight as this sign of office and turned his back on the two men. Walking to the double doors of the garden wall, he placed his back to the sheet gold covering them and banged the staff three times against the ground.
'All here present harken to the words of The Living Horus: Strong Bull, Arisen in truth; Gold-Horus: Great of strength, Smiter of Asiatics, the King of Upper and Lower Egypt: Nebkheprure Tutankhamun; the Son of Ra, Tutankhamun, Lord of Thebes, beloved of Amun. It pleases my heart to hold no audiences for the remainder of the morning.' Userhet pounded the staff again. 'Thus saith the living Horus, Nebkheprure Tutankhamun, beloved of Ptah, beloved of Amun, given life forever and ever.'
Djoser reddened, and he muttered something.
'Forgive my aged lack of hearing, O mighty prince,' said the overseer. 'Did you address me?'
Fists clenched, Djoser walked up to Userhet. 'I'll tell you what I said.'
Lord Reshep, who had gone pale rather than red, grabbed Djoser's arm and pulled him away. They hovered nearby, brushing against a rare incense tree and causing some of its branches to break. Userhet watched them hiss and whisper to each other while he fingered the chickpeas in the pouch on his belt.
The overseer was debating the consequences of pelting Prince Djoser and Lord Reshep when the stream of promenading courtiers before him on the path began to undulate to the left and right. Someone was coming, someone whose progress made even generals and ministers give way.
Moments later Userhet saw a gleaming black wig surrounding the harsh features of Lord Meren, Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh, Friend of the King. Meren paused to speak to General Nakhtmin, then proceeded on his way.
His progress was halted by Djoser. Reshep was nowhere to be seen. Userhet stared straight ahead, but he directed his attention to the two and tried his best to hear what they were saying. Djoser was standing in Meren's way.
'Why have you refused Reshep for your daughter?' Prince Djoser demanded.
For a brief moment Lord Meren's composure slipped, and Userhet witnessed astonished outrage quickly mastered. Meren stared at the prince with indignation of such majesty that had Userhet been its recipient, he would have skulked away and hidden for a century. Evidently Djoser lacked Userhet's sensitive qualities, for he repeated his question. By now a few courtiers had paused to listen, and even more were directing their steps in circles that kept them within hearing distance. Meren resolved the confrontation in his characteristic way. He drew close to the prince and began whispering to him. As he spoke, Djoser went pale. Sweat broke out on his forehead and dribbled into his eye paint. The muscles of his neck writhed as he tried to swallow. Meren drew back, gave the prince a sweet, endearing smile, and continued on his way. Djoser was left standing alone looking sick, staring at Meren's back, his arms limp at his sides.
Lord Meren walked up to Userhet as if nothing had happened. Before he could utter a word, Userhet moved aside, pulled open the door, and bowed.
Meren gave him a look of surprise. 'You knew I was coming?'
'No,' Userhet replied. 'But the divine Horus wishes to have speech with you. Go.'
Userhet began pushing the garden door closed, forcing Meren to enter. Giving the door a final, satisfying bang, Userhet turned around and planted his staff in the earth. As he did so, he looked back at Djoser. Sometimes it did courtiers good to be shown how low their rank really was. As for Meren, he would have to rely upon the well- known discretion of the Eyes of Pharaoh.
Meren stopped just inside the garden, where royal bodyguards examined him as if he were a Libyan assassin. Too many strange things had been happening lately. He was still reeling from Djoser's unconscionable intrusion into his affairs. Now the overseer of the audience hall had taken a serious risk by allowing him in unannounced. Such a breach usually occurred only with pharaoh's permission, which meant something was wrong.
Meren felt as if a swarm of evil curses buzzed around his head. He had risked his life to search for Nefertiti's former cook, only to find himself at the mercy of her demented sister. He'd tried several times to reason with Satet, but the old woman kept sailing back and forth in time and never moored herself to the present for long. For now he'd left her in Bener's charge. Perhaps a few days in a normal household would do the woman's reason some good. He hoped so, for he still couldn't find the cook Hunero, or her husband, and now a new, more present danger threatened.
Who had killed Prince Mugallu? Who was murdering the citizens of Memphis? Evil was abroad in the city. Was it the twisted evil of men, or was it Ammut, risen from the netherworld? If Eater of Souls preyed upon the living, why had she come? Perhaps the gods were displeased with the people of the city, or perhaps some magician of great power had summoned her for purposes of his own.
