attraction than giving amusement to a lady is a puzzlement to me. Why is it so, Father?'
He hadn't been so bereft of thought since-he'd never been so bereft of thought. His heart wouldn't produce words. Meren stared at his skeptical, sensible daughter, stunned at the way her heart pursued matters to their reasonable end.
'Never mind,' Bener went on. 'You look weary, and it's going to take you some time to think of a good excuse for that one.' She yawned again and said, 'I'd better tell you now. Isis is planning to take herself and her possessions to Prince Djoser's house, where Reshep is staying.'
A demon was pounding a mallet against his skull. Meren groaned and pressed his fingertips to his temples. A woman married a man by bringing her possessions to his house. Girls seldom did this without elaborate arrangements between the two sets of parents, negotiation of a marriage contract, feasting and celebration. But some were fearless, or foolish, or-as in the case of Isis-both.
Bener dropped to a stool and picked up a cup of wine from the tray she'd brought. 'I think it was his idea. I bribed Isis's hairdresser to tell me anything serious. She says Isis thinks you'll have to agree to give her a marriage portion and contract if she goes to his house.'
'Isis should know what I'll do to Reshep. There isn't going to be any contract or portion. He'll be fortunate to escape with his-'
Nodding, Bener said, 'That's why I'm sure this is Reshep's interpretation. He has dazzled her heart, or she wouldn't have misjudged you.'
'When pharaoh asked me to inquire about him, I sent men to Reshep's country estate. They should return soon, and I'll know more about this presumptuous suitor. Meanwhile, Isis is going to visit Tefnut, escorted by a squadron of charioteers, half a dozen foot soldiers, and my old nurse.'
'What are you going to do to Lord Reshep?'
'I would like to feed him to this killer who haunts the city, but I can't be sure the evil one would do the work.' Meren rubbed his chin. 'I suppose pharaoh would be annoyed if I pulled his spine out through his throat. I shall have to ponder the matter.'
'Then I'm going to sleep late tomorrow and avoid the furor when you confront Isis. But before I go, shall I tell you what I've been thinking?'
This was one of those times. Meren felt her apprehension as she regarded him with that look of expectation. He nodded gravely so that she wouldn't suspect him of indulging her.
At Meren's nod, Bener took a sip of wine. 'You still don't know why these killings have been done. But obviously they've been done by someone who can prowl the city at night. This person is someone who can go to the foreign quarters and the docks without being conspicuous, or word would have reached you.'
'You're correct so far,' Meren said.
'The evil one always kills in concealed places, at night, taking the victims by surprise.'
'So this criminal is good at stalking,' Meren said, following Bener's reasoning. 'He's a hunter. Like pharaoh's huntsmen and fowlers, like fishermen. But not like unguent makers, scribes of the treasury, slaves.'
Bener peered at him over her wine cup. 'Noblemen hunt. They have time to do it.'
'I know, but anyone can use the night to do evil.'
'Therefore, there's no mark or sign connected with the killer,' Bener concluded.
They shared a comfortable silence. Meren reflected upon how easily he explored possibilities of great evil with this amazing daughter.
Bener finished her wine and set her cup on the tray. Turning to him, she furrowed her brow. 'We don't know enough, do we, Father?'
'No, my dear, we don't. Not yet.' Something Bener had said bothered him, but he wasn't sure what. He felt faintly uneasy that he might have missed something, but Bener slipped her hand into his.
'Are we safe?' she asked. 'General Labarnas was able to steal into the house.'
'I sent most of the charioteers with him. He's not coming back. He's a Hittite general, Bener. This killer isn't. Of that I'm certain. And the evil one prowls another part of the city.'
'Reia's going to increase the night guards?'
'Of course, when he returns.'
'Then I can sleep. Will you?'
'Not at once. The voice of my heart is still loud.'
Bener picked up another wine cup and handed it to him. 'I put one of Aunt Idut's sleep remedies in this. It's too mild to rob you of consciousness, but it soothes frenzied thoughts.'
When Bener had gone, Meren set his wine cup aside. He detested potions. The trouble was that his sister Idut had taught his daughters the wisdom of herbs and medicines passed down by the women in the family for generations. Both were developing great skill, but Bener had taken to practicing on the household, especially him. She grew quite excited talking about herb harvesting and drying. Tinctures, infusions, and decoctions fascinated her. He was afraid she was more interested in them than in the young men who tried to attract her attention by driving their chariots back and forth in front of the house.
However, she was right about sleep. He needed it, and he wasn't going to get it if he allowed his heart's thoughts to wander from worry to worry. Having sent everyone to bed, and with Reia away escorting the Hittites, he might be able to seek the peace he usually found in his garden.
Meren retrieved his juggling balls. The one ruined by the water he tossed in one hand. Each time it hit his palm, it made a splat instead of a pat. Shaking his head, Meren began walking toward a grove of sycamores. He could hear the toad he'd nearly squashed serenading the reflection pool with hollow, watery croaks. An owl soared into the garden, landed on a sycamore branch, and whirred an accompaniment. Leaving behind the smell of water and reeds, he came to the pavilion where a couch was always ready for his use.
Meren sank down on the linen-covered mattress.
Sighing, he removed his jewels. Nearly being eviscerated by a Hittite had exhausted him. Zar would be annoyed that he hadn't come in for bathing, but his eyelids felt as heavy as altar stones. He didn't even bother to pull down the reed shades to keep out the west wind. He lay down and realized he had picked up the wet juggling ball again. He dropped it and his dagger beside the couch and closed his eyes.
Soon he was drifting in a world of peaceful darkness and enveloped in night sounds that always brought tranquillity. Breathing deeply, he tried to inhale the sounds of the owl and the toad, the lapping of water against the sides of the pool, the rising wind that caused tree limbs to undulate and their leaves to shiver.
But underneath this euphony he heard something else. It was another toad, one encouraged to join its fellow by the absence of people. Meren turned on his side to face away from the pavilion steps and the pool, his thoughts growing fuzzy. One toad was soothing, a group could wake an embalmed one. When he was settled and drifting in his tranquil world of sound, he nearly fell asleep. He could feel his busy thoughts fade, his cares sail away on clouds of familiar, comforting sounds. He was drifting in a mist of peace, like the ba bird, the form of one's ka that had a bird body but a human head. But something was wrong. One of the toads seemed to have hopped onto the top rail of the balustrade and was blaring its call into Meren's face.
Without opening his eyes, he frowned. Odd conduct for a toad, and this one's croak wasn't soothing. It sounded like a grunt.
A wave of comprehension rushed over Meren so that he was wrenched into vigilance. The speed of the change brought pain, which in turn jolted him into battle wariness. He tried not to alter his breathing, even when the breeze brought an incomprehensible scent, a mixture of decaying hide, sweat, half-dried blood, and… something else. Something sweet that when mixed with the other smells made him want to vomit. Lying still yet tensed to repel an attack, Meren tried to make sense of the sweetness. Not decaying reeds, not rotting animal flesh, not even rotting human flesh. No, something that had once been pleasant, like perfume.
Balanos oil, that was it. Balanos oil and myrrh? Decaying hide, blood-and perfume oil? His stomach twisted even as Meren heard that grunt again. This time it didn't stop. It repeated itself, growing faster and louder until it was one long, groaning roar. When the sound moved, Meren opened his eyes and rolled across the bed at the same time.
He hit the pavilion floor as something leaped at him and landed on the couch. All he saw was a crouched, deformed shape and a fanged maw. He kept his gaze on the thing above him and grabbed for his dagger. The shape rose from a squatting position as Meren's hand hit the wet leather ball.
His ears filled with the creature's bawling roar when it sprang at him. He caught a glimpse of an ax and
