by Scott Peters
"All right." He glanced at Kat, and then went on. "Some men came here yesterday and chased a friend of ours. Did you . . . hear anything?"
She smiled. "I did. My ears remember it well. The men were quite rude, as a matter of fact. One of them, a heavy fellow, cursed me." She rubbed her throat as if in remembrance. "He's not a good man."
Zet wasn’t surprised to see Kat scowl at the news. She always wanted to take care of the helpless. She made a habit of putting out food for stray cats, and carrying handouts for the downtrodden.
"That’s terrible!" Kat said.
Zet agreed. Then, realizing it was getting late, he told her they had to go. He couldn’t help feeling disappointed. For coming such a long way, and risking their mother’s anger, they hadn’t learned much at all.
"Wait!" the blind woman said. "I haven’t told you what I know."
"There’s more?" he said, hopeful but wondering what more she could tell them, being blind.
"You sound surprised. I may no longer have my sight. But I've found ways to make the other senses keener. So let me tell you this. First, one of the men you seek, the big one who stepped on me, smells of temple incense."
Zet nodded, taking this detail in. True, it was something they didn’t know. But not particularly useful. He couldn’t walk around smelling people and hope to find the thief.
"And second, his accomplice speaks with a stutter."
"A stutter!" Zet cried. "That’s a good clue! We could use that!"
She smiled, satisfied, and nestled back into her rags.
"We’ll bring you lunch tomorrow," Kat said suddenly.
"Good idea," Zet said. Even though it would be a busy day, he more than wanted to help this kind woman. He wanted to thank her for the information.
"Thanks are not necessary," she said. "It is I who thank you for finding the thieves."
"But we want to!" Kat said.
"You are a good girl." She paused, and after a long moment inclined her head. "I look forward to it."
Finding the thieves would not be easy; he knew it was a long shot. But the old woman had given him hope.
Chapter Seven
The Thin-Man
As they made their way home, Zet and Kat talked about the poor old woman camped along the roadside. How awful it would be to have no home.
They reached the dark city and wound through the silent streets. The paving stones felt almost cold at this time of night. They made a wrong turn into a short alleyway that stank of rotting fish and vegetables.
"Ugh," Kat said, covering her face. "Someone's using the dead-end as a garbage heap."
Plugging his nose, Zet backed out at a run.
Soon, they were back on familiar territory.
"Now that we know the thin one stutters," Zet said, "This should be easy!"
She didn't look quite as certain. Still, she said, "People probably would remember a stutter."
"Exactly! Tomorrow, we can ask everyone who comes to the stall. Someone will recognize their description."
"Everyone? I agree we should ask around, but I, for one, am not going to pester everyone. And neither should you!"
Zet laughed. "Okay, not everyone. But admit it. You're excited too!"
She grinned. "Maybe I am."
Think how proud his mother would be if he brought home the ransom! Her eyes would shine, and she’d tell him that his father would be happy to know what a good son he had.
Kat broke into his thoughts. "I can't help wondering about those building plans."
"What about them?"
"Just that they must be very important. I wonder what building the plans belong to?"
"I don't know, but you're right. What if they're for something official?"
She nodded. "I think they must be."
In the light of this, Zet felt even more urgent about finding the stolen scroll.
Back home their mother and the baby slept on. Zet and Kat tiptoed into the kitchen and cleaned their muddy feet as best they could. It was difficult in the dark. By some miracle, no one woke up. Together they crept up to the roof, thankful their departure had gone unnoticed. As soon as Zet’s head hit the sheets, he nodded off to sleep. It had been a long day.
The next morning, Kat shook Zet awake.
"Come on! Mother's changing the baby."
He wiped the sleep from his eyes and groaned. "What's the big rush?"
"The third lunch. Remember? Unless you want to explain where we were last night?"
"Oh. Good point."
In the kitchen, they quickly set out three clay bowls. Into each they put chickpea salad, left over from the night before. On top of the salad went a thick hunk of bread. On top of the bread they put a handful of sweet, dried apricots.
"Can I help you in there?" their mother called.
"No!" Kat answered, quickly tying the bundles in linen.
"Hurry," Zet whispered, and shoved them into his sack.
Packed and ready to go, they said goodbye to their mother and headed outside.
Despite the early hour, hot sunshine cooked the paving stones. In some streets, laundry hung overhead on lines that attached clear across the sky—from building to building. The laundry cast rectangular shadows on the ground. In their bare feet, they hopped from one dark rectangle to the next, enjoying the coolness of the shaded spots.
Every time they met a person, Zet stopped to describe the men they were looking for. But no one had heard of them. They must have asked two dozen people. And the answer was always the same.
Kat wound her braid in her fist, then flung it over her shoulder. "I can’t believe no one's seen them! No one!"
In silence, they untied the linen coverings from the neat stack of pottery dishes, bowls and pots. Zet took a stand up front. Despite Kat's warning, he still asked everyone who came to browse their wares.
A young woman who'd bought dishes there before stopped to chat with Kat. Zet's mouth dropped open when he overheard Kat ask about the two men. When the conversation broke up and Kat came out into the sunshine, Zet was grinning to himself.
"What's that look about?" she demanded.
"Nothing."
"I'm curious, too, all right? So there." She stuck out her tongue.
He broke out laughing.
Kat fetched the sack of food. "Come on, jackal-head. Let’s go to Padus’s field. It’s lunch time."
They closed up the stall, tying sheets of linen over their wares. Zet picked up the sack of food. Time was short, so they ran most of the way. The clay pots thunked together in the bag, bouncing against his back. It was a good thing Kat had tied the bundles so tightly, or they’d have spilled everywhere.
Both gasping and out of breath, they reached the entrance to Padus’s field.
The old woman smiled up at them.
"You’ve come back," she said.
"How did you know it was us?" Zet said.
At this, her cheeks dimpled. "Still so little trust in my powers of observation, I see!" She patted the ground kindly, like a grandmother welcoming them to her house. Her hands were gnarled, but a fine gold chain circled her wrist.
"Come, sit," she said. "It’s not often I have such loyal visitors. Let me enjoy my treat."
Together the three sat and ate, talking and laughing. The old woman asked them all about their stall in the market. She asked about their mother and father, and baby brother. She asked what it was like to be young and have the freedom to run around Thebes with quick legs and healthy, seeing eyes. They talked, eager to entertain her. She listened, rapt, hanging on their every word.
Finally the time came to go. Kat looked a little sad, and the old woman patted her hand.
"You've made me very happy today. Now go. And Zet?"
"Yes?" he said, bowing to her.
"Catch your thieves."
"I'll try," he said.
She nodded, satisfied. "I know you will give it your best."
After wrapping up their things, Zet and Kat hurried down the road. They ne
eded to get back to their market stall. They couldn't afford to miss any buyers that might come looking to barter for some clay pots.
They had walked for several minutes, when a tall man burst out of a neighboring field. Dirt caked his calves. Scars marked his whip-like arms. His legs were long and thin.
Zet watched absently, wondering why the strange man was in such a hurry.
Chapter Eight
The Chase
There came the sound of hooves approaching from behind. Zet tore his eyes from the odd looking man up ahead, and glanced back. Two donkeys approached, kicking up clouds of dry, red dust. Flies buzzed around the donkeys' furry gray ears, which flapped in earnest.
Seated on the bigger donkey was a squat man in a thick tunic.
"Hi!" Zet called as the man passed.
"Afternoon!" The man's red cheeks puffed into a grin. Up on the donkey, he jostled left and right. He looked surprisingly comfortable doing it—especially since his feet almost scraped the ground. His right hand held a rope, which pulled the second donkey along.
The animals trotted onward, tails flicking like fly-whisks.
Suddenly, up ahead, the thin-legged man stepped out into the donkeys' path.
"S-stop!" he cried.
Zet froze, his ears on alert.
"What do you want?" the donkey owner said.
"I n-n-need a ride. To t-town," the man said.
Zet gasped. He glanced at Kat, who stared back, wide-eyed.
"It's him!" she whispered. "He does look like a boiled chicken."
He put a hand on her arm. Was it possible the thief had walked right into their path? He thought of his prayers to Bastet the night before and said a silent thank you.
The thin-man grasped at the donkey's bridle. "I'm in a h-hurry!"
Zet's muscles tensed, ready for the chase. But the donkey owner kicked him away.
"Get back, dog!" he roared. "I don't like your filthy legs. And my donkey's not for rent." He kicked his animals into action and carried on down the road.
Zet let out a breath of relief. "Don't let him see we're following him."
"I won't," Kat scoffed.
They hung back, allowing the thin-man to get ahead some distance. On the open road, it was easy to keep him in view. His tall, thin shadow lurched along at a fast clip. Twice, he glanced back, seeming to take no notice of Zet or his sister.
The walls of the city rose in the distance, brown mud brick growing ever clearer. Voices of people and sounds and smells of industry filled the air: clanks of hammers, the pungent odor of the leather tannery, shouts of people offering their wares. Fishing boats clustered along the wharf. Ruddy fishermen hauled out their catch, while customers stood watching. The full nets hit the paving stones, the silver fish inside still struggling and leaping against their bonds.
Ahead, the thin-man turned into an alley.
Zet and Kat darted to catch up.
Three chatting women with marketing baskets on their arms blocked their view.
Zet and Kat squeezed past, desperate not to lose their quarry.
But the thin-man was gone.
"Quick!" Zet cried. He took off, running. An alley ran crosswise. He glanced down it just in time to catch sight of the thin-man.
"Down there!" he said, "He just turned left! Come on!"
Their bare feet slapped against the ground. A man in a gold-edged tunic growled at them to slow down. They kept running. Zet flew around a corner. He recognized the small town square with the fruit and vegetable market ahead.
"He must be up there somewhere," he said, breathing hard.
Kat kept pace with him, her keen eyes searching.
They flew into the open market. He glanced right, past the herb stall. Baskets with pyramids of colorful spices blocked any view of the far alleys.
"Split up. Meet on the other side!"
Zet wove left. Around the bags of grain. He banged into a man who was lifting a sack over his shoulder. Wheat flew everywhere. Zet's bag with the three empty bowls clattered across the ground. He snatched it up and kept running.
"Stop!" the man shouted, cursing.
Zet kept running. He glanced back over his shoulder to see if the man was following him. He didn't see the basket of lemons until he tripped over them. They rolled under his feet, sending him flying one way, his bag crashing the other.
"Boy! My lemons!" the stall owner cried.
"Sorry," Zet gasped, scrambling to his feet and taking off.
At the far end of the stalls, Kat was running to meet him. With a glance back, he spotted the man from the wheat stall, and the lemon seller. Both were red-faced. Both were running.
Both shouted, "STOP!"
Zet grabbed Kat and kept going.
"Did you see him?"
"No, you?"
"Nope."
They flew headlong until finally, the men gave up. Seeing the alley behind them was clear, they slowed to a walk and caught their breath.
"We had him!" Zet cried. "I can’t believe we had him! That was our one chance. We’ll never find him now."
"Zet?" Kat asked.
He glanced at his sister. Color flushed her cheeks, and her damp bangs stuck to her forehead.
"I don't know if you noticed," she said. "But that thief was really big. And really scary. What, exactly, were you going to do if we caught him?"
Zet shrugged. "I don’t know. Something."
She put both hands to her glistening forehead and slowly wiped away the sweat. Then she flopped back against a wall and crossed her arms over her chest. "This is way too dangerous."
"If we’d followed him, we’d at least know where he was going. Maybe he was going to his house. We could’ve waited until he left and searched it for the stolen papyrus."
She bit her lip. "Maybe."
"Anyway, it doesn’t matter now," Zet said, unable to hide his disappointment. "We better head back to our stall."
Glancing around, he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. They’d run far, up and down the city’s maze of twisting alleys.
"Which way?" Kat said.
"We might as well go straight. Maybe we’ll come to something recognizable."
Chapter Nine
Temple of Amenemopet
Zet and Kat walked in silence, scanning for familiar landmarks.
He wondered if any customers had come to the stall. It would be just his luck that the one time they weren't there, half a dozen buyers had shown up and left empty-handed. His mother had commented last night at dinner that they were running very low on grain and beans.
Straightening his shoulders, he strode forward. Enough with this thief business. It wasn’t turning out, and it might even be costing them money. He'd lost his bag with three of his mother's good bowls. She'd be crushed when she found out they were gone. Even worse, Kat was right—it was dangerous. What if Kat had been hurt? She might be a brat sometimes, but still.
He’d never forgive himself.
"Look!" Kat gasped, her fingers wrapping around his wrist and yanking him to a halt.
They’d reached a wider avenue. Crowds were coming and going. Beyond the people, great stone steps rose to the entrance of a temple. And on the steps, speaking with a young, acolyte priest, stood their thief.
"The temple of Amenemopet!" Zet said.
Despite having seen the temple once before, it was no less impressive today. Six huge statues of Pharaoh Ramses towered out front—two seated, four standing. A matching pair of stone pylons loomed on each side of a giant wooden door.
Zet's heart plummeted as the acolyte led the thief toward the entrance. They'd never be allowed in there.
Kat nodded, her face glum.
"Stay here," Zet said suddenly. He had to get in there. He had to try.
As he took off, running, Kat kept up with him. "I’m coming with you."
"No way! You're the one who said it was too dangerous!"
"I changed my mind."
Zet groaned. But there was no time to argue. They
wove between pedestrians. They pounded up the steps. Six granite faces of Ramses stared down at them. The statues looked even sterner from this angle. People weren't supposed to just barge in. The temples were sacred. There were strict rules about who could enter.
So then why had the thief gone into such a holy place?
He made up his mind. He had to get inside. They reached the door. He couldn't believe their luck! The acolyte had left it ajar.
One hand on the thick wood, Zet paused and turned to his sister. "Promise me. If anything happens, run. Even if I’m caught. Agreed?"
She nodded.
He took a deep breath. He expected someone to shout at them from the street. No one did.
Pushing it open just enough to squeeze past, he and Kat slipped inside.
The hush was instant. After the noisy crowd outside, it felt as if a blanket of silence had dropped over them. Thick, sweet incense hovered in the stillness. Although the occasional chink of light shone down from holes in the roof, overall it was heavy with shadows.
Zet let his eyes adjust.
A forest of colossal pillars stood before them. Even from where he stood he counted dozens. They were spaced closely, at even intervals across the hall. Hieroglyphs had been chiseled up and down their length. Zet was unable to read the complex hieroglyphic symbols. Still, he guessed what was on those pillars.
Powerful magic. Curses to ward off intruders.
He shivered.
In the distance, he heard low voices.
Zet motioned Kat forward. Their bare feet whispered against the cool floor. They went on tiptoe from pillar to pillar. The voices grew clearer.
"I warned you not to come here!" a deep-voiced man growled.
"I had to t-t-tell you, didn't I?" came the answer.
"So he wasn't at his field. And no one knows where he lives?"
"No. I s-s-searched. And n-no one would t-t-talk to me."
So they were still looking for Padus. That's why the thin-man had been over there. But why, what were they going to do to him? A thread of fear tugged at his belly. How would Padus ever go back to his fields with these two after him?
Zet risked a peek. The two men stood in a dusty shaft of light. The big one wore a magnificent leopard skin draped over his thick shoulders. His kilt was long and expensively pleated. The belt around his waist glimmered with gold, and items of holy power hung from various loops. And just like Padus said, rings glittered on every finger. Zet had never seen so much wealth worn on a single person. The effect was almost god-like.
