'Her sight had better improve quickly, because Father will speak to her when he returns, and if she shrieks and whines and lashes at him with her tongue, I'm going to drop her down the kitchen well and seal it with a granite slab.'
Bener rose and offered a hand to help Kysen rise. 'Your heart isn't thinking clearly, my dear brother. If you want Isis to suffer, you should take away all her cosmetics, her mirrors, her perfume of Mendes and oil of lilies, and her jewels and robes.'
'You are a clever one,' Kysen said as he got up.
Bener punched him lightly on the shoulder. 'I'll pretend to console her in my chamber if you'll seize her treasures.'
A nasty grin grew on Kysen's face.
'Father will only confine her to her chamber. True repentance is attained through sacrifice.'
'Then we're but helping Isis to sail on the route to divine order and rightness as a servant of Maat,' Bener said with great solemnity.
Kysen patted his sister's arm. 'True, and to help her keep on a righteous course, I'll give all her trinkets to the women at Ese's tavern.'
Meren walked in a circuit around Reshep's body as he composed his report to pharaoh aloud. One of the younger charioteers sat on the floor with a sheet of papyrus stretched over his crossed legs and wrote down his words. Other men swarmed through the house, inspecting everything from the flour bins to the cheap senet game in the bedchamber.
As Meren spoke, he tried to ignore the way his chest ached with the dull, insistent pain with which he'd become too familiar. His youngest daughter had betrayed him. She hadn't known how dangerous her betrayal was, but she hadn't given much thought to anyone but herself.
He had stopped talking, and his men were looking at him. He resumed, pushing all thoughts of Isis out of his heart. Satet had been taken home where Nebamun the physician could care for her, and there was no sign of her sister Hunero or the husband. The house had been cleaned recently, probably by Satet on one of her secret excursions. Meren was furious with himself for not keeping a closer watch on her.
His negligence was a sign of how much confusion Eater of Souls had caused. Had he not been submerged in guilt over why Eater of Souls had attacked him, he would have pursued his inquiries with Satet more quickly. He would have to remember not to allow his personal sentiments to interfere with his duty to pharaoh and Maat.
'Thus ends the matter of the one called Eater-'
'Egyptian! Egyptian, who are you to send for me as if I was a miserable vassal?'
Labarnas roared into the kitchen with Abu, Reia, and several charioteers right behind him. The Hittite saw Meren first and headed for him, only to be halted by Reshep's body blocking his path. Labarnas was in mid-roar, and his voice cracked. He stepped back and bumped into Abu, but didn't seem to notice. Muttering something in his own language, he made a magical sign before scowling at Meren.
'Why have you dragged me to this place?'
'You said you wanted the one responsible for your prince's death.' Meren nodded at Reshep. 'This is the one.'
Labarnas looked down at the body, the crocodile mask. He walked around to the head, kicked the hippo hide that covered Reshep's thigh, and grunted.
'I've seen this one.'
'On my ship, when Prince Mugallu visited,' Meren said as he walked over to join Labarnas. 'Mugallu insulted him, and this man avenged himself.'
'Is this how you Egyptians settle a quarrel?' Labarnas planted his fists on his hips. His voice was as loud as a rock slide. 'Hittite warriors with differences face each other and fight under the open sky of the storm god. Prince Mugallu was struck down by cowardice. I will tell my king, the Sun, how you allowed his intimate friend to be slaughtered like an ox.'
'Reshep killed many, for far less than the insults Prince Mugallu gave him.'
'After your pharaoh insulted the prince deliberately!'
Meren sighed, walked over to a chair that had been brought for his use, and sat down. 'Labarnas, do you know how irritating you are?'
'Irritating? I'll irritate you, you perfumed, soft-skinned lotus sniffer.'
Meren held up a hand. It was a gesture he used to command silence among his charioteers, and he'd employed it without thinking. Labarnas stopped his tirade, then looked annoyed at himself for doing so.
'Allow me to finish before you lose your temper. You irritate me, Hittite, because you make accusations without knowing what has occurred. You take offense against pharaoh and all Egyptians as though your only purpose in coming to Egypt was to provoke a war. And you accuse me of negligence regarding Prince Mugallu and imply that there's some plot against your king.'
'Everyone knows that you Egyptians are born to deceit. You construct plots as easily as you construct great temples and palaces of gold and lapis lazuli.'
Meren leaned back in his chair and smiled. 'Exactly.'
'Don't smirk at me, you cursed Egyptian.' Labarnas frowned. 'What do you mean, exactly?'
'Engage in a bit of reasoning, general. If I'm so versed in deceit and trickery, could I not have found a way to murder Prince Mugallu without placing myself or any Egyptian under suspicion?'
'No doubt you tried and failed.'
Rising, Meren shook his head and walked over to Labarnas. He swept his arm in the direction of Reshep's body.
'The diplomacy of death, my dear general, requires subtlety, a delicacy of construction, and above all, simplicity of design.' Meren lowered his voice and said softly, 'You can be assured that if I had wanted to kill Prince Mugallu, he, you, and your whole party would have been allowed to leave Egypt first. Then, once you were past the great border fortresses, well into the barren lands between them and the nearest city to the north, you would vanish. Quickly, in silence, as though a desert storm had swept you away into the vast emptiness of the frontier and buried you beneath a mountain of sand.'
Holding Labarnas's gaze with his eyes, Meren paused with a slight smile. 'Oh, I would search for you, send word to your king, invite him to send Hittite troops to search. All in vain. Until one day, on an expedition deep into the Sinai, your troops would find the remains of a battle, and nothing but ashes from flaming arrows, and bones dressed in Hittite armor.'
No one moved. Sounds of the house search reached them, but no others. Finally Labarnas gave a sharp bark of laughter.
'Did I not say pharaoh's people worshiped the god of deceit? You've just proved me right, Egyptian.'
'Then you understand that these murders were the work of this one man. Remember the thief, the tavern woman, and the farmer.'
Labarnas bent and touched the crocodile mask on the snout, then rose and eyed Meren. 'When I tell the great king, I'll still blame pharaoh for not providing safe lodging for the emissary.'
'Of course.'
'I want to leave at once.'
'I will beg pharaoh, may he have life, health, and prosperity, for permission.'
'Hmmmph. For an Egyptian, you're almost tolerable. I would have killed you, had I been successful in escaping with you that night.'
'I know,' Meren said.
'But now,' Labarnas said as he turned to leave, 'I think I would have paid dearly for it.'
'May Amun protect you on your journey.'
'And may the storm god bless your fate, Egyptian. The next time we meet won't be in some gold-encrusted audience chamber but on a battlefield.'
'You sound certain.'
'I am, Egyptian. I am.'
The moment Labarnas was gone, Meren turned to Abu. 'Still no sign of the cook and her husband?'
'No, lord. We found the man who rented this house to them. He's a priest of Ptah, holder of the office of
