transported to the southern end of the valley, where they are collected, and paid for. These opium bricks are then smuggled all the way to Thebes, where a new gang has taken over the whole business from the old gangs.’
‘How do you know this?’ he demanded.
‘It started with an apparently simple murder, in Thebes. Just another execution of five street kids, who were working for the cartels. They had been decapitated, as usual. But I saw it had been done expertly. Then a close colleague, a friend, was also assassinated, by the same gang. By the same killer. And everywhere they left their sign. I have it on a papyrus in my robe. Release me, and I will show you.’
He gazed at me for a long moment. Then he cut the ropes round my hands and I produced the papyrus of the black star, now tattered.
‘This is the sign of the Army of Chaos. But the cartel in Thebes operates with similar ruthless efficiency and skill. They also leave this sign on the bodies of their victims,’ I said.
Horemheb stared at me.
‘Then the Army of Chaos has a foothold in Thebes, which is impossible.’
‘Impossible. But there is another explanation…’
‘Continue,’ he said.
‘Until recently, only relatively small, unreliable quantities of opium could be smuggled across the desert, or by river; just the usual petty black-market operation. But suddenly all that’s changed,’ I said.
‘If you have a point, make it now,’ he interrupted, glancing up at the sun, as if he had somewhere else he needed to be.
‘A rogue platoon within the Seth division is smuggling the opium. They buy it from here. They transport it themselves down to Egypt. They also control the Thebes operation.’
For a long moment he said nothing.
‘Kill him,’ he ordered, and began to walk away again.
‘
Horemheb stopped in his tracks. My life was in the balance. He could laugh, and then slice my head from my neck in the next moment. But he did not.
‘What evidence do you have for such a grotesque, insane accusation?’ he said.
‘I am sure of what I say,’ I offered. ‘Evidence could be found. I know where to find it.’
‘Where?’ he demanded.
‘In Bubastis. In Memphis. And in Thebes,’ I replied.
‘All you have is a series of assumptions and suspicions.’
‘I have information. I make interpretations. It is what I do. I am a Seeker of Mysteries. And I know I am right,’ I replied.
Horemheb considered me carefully.
‘I despise the corruption of opium,’ he said. ‘It causes weakness and it undermines order. If there is any sign of this corruption within my army, it must be annihilated. I will see to it.’
Suddenly I felt my position slipping.
‘There is no point destroying the supply chain! You have to attack the heart of the problem. You have to identify the culprits. There is a man, in Thebes. He is the overseer of all of this. They call him “Obsidian”. Let me go, and I will bring you proof. And then you can annihilate the entire cartel. If I fail, kill me,’ I said.
He turned his cold grey eyes on me.
‘You have ten days. If you bring me this evidence, then I will act, and your life will be saved. If you do not, then I will arrest your family, and you will never see them again in this life, for they will be sent to Nubia, to labour in the gold mines for the short time left to them before the heat and the disease kill them.’
He approached closer.
‘There is much at stake in these last days of the Queen Ankhesenamun’s corrupt and dying dynasty, and my triumph will not be denied,’ he said.
‘I need the help of my colleague, Simut,’ I said quickly.
‘He is a prisoner of war, and he will be returned to Thebes for trial as a traitor of the new order,’ he responded brusquely.
‘He is essential to my investigation. He carries royal authority. Without him, it will be impossible for me to examine the army ships, to infiltrate the warehouses, to question witnesses…’
‘I will give you that authority,’ he said.
‘I must not be identified with you in any way during the course of this investigation. It would reveal too much, if I were caught. This has to be clandestine. I must remain invisible, and all connections between us must remain secret,’ I said, trying not to plead.
‘Do not try my patience. I will not release him. He will still stand trial. He is a traitor. As are you.’
‘If I succeed, grant me his life,’ I said.
‘There is a new order coming to Egypt, and I will not be persuaded by arguments of care. There will be no forgiveness. There will only be retribution. Starting with those who undertook this treasonable mission to marry the Queen to a Hittite and bring him to the throne of Egypt.’
And then he was gone.
Part Five
My mouth is given to me that I may speak with it in the presence of the Great God, the Lord of the Underworld.
35
It was early evening. The oppressive heat of the day refused to lift from the port town of Avaris, just inside Egypt’s border.
I had tracked the military convoy on foot along the last part of the Way of Horus as they transported another consignment of the dead. But I was in trouble: Nakht’s death haunted and obsessed me. I had been sent on the mission to protect him, but I had failed him, as I had failed Khety. Now both my dear friends were dead. If Nakht had survived, he could have supported the Queen in her fight against Horemheb’s occupation. But now she would be alone. I kept remembering the strange look on Nakht’s face as he brandished the sword, and then ran into the smoke and flames. I could not stay still; I toyed with my dagger, over and over. My body shivered continually; an uncontrollable shaking tormented my legs; and the skin on my arms and legs was bleeding from the endless scratching. I had been unable to sleep or find any rest for days. I knew what was wrong with me. I craved the golden bliss of the opium dream. I had become the addict I once condemned.
I expected the cargo of coffins to be loaded directly on to a military ship bound for Bubastis; but instead they set off towards the military camp, accompanied by soldiers who peremptorily cleared their way through the crowds. They continued past a long row of warehouses, then turned a corner as if making for the huge tent city of the military camp; this occupied every free space between the port warehouses and grain silos, the massive new barracks under construction, and the ruins of the old citadel which lay behind. Despite the heat, bonfires burned in the shimmering late light, and sweating red-faced cooks toiled at brick ovens, serving the lines of soldiers waiting for food.
But the soldiers and their carts did not enter the camp compound either; instead, they moved towards the burial grounds, and the ruined walls of the citadel ahead of them. I followed behind, keeping within the lengthening
