by Scott Peters
"Of what? His innocence?"
Merimose rubbed his neck. "Yep. I almost wanted him to be guilty. Smiling little beetle he is. Not my sort. But justice is justice, and I don't have to like all our citizens. I just have to protect them."
Through a gap in the curtained back area, Zet saw that the special orders woman had left. Kat was helping another customer, who'd chosen several dishes. Kat pulled an armful of reeds from a sack and stacked layers of them between the dishes. The dry plants crunched and crackled; their dry, fragrant scent filled the air.
"There's something else I need to tell you," Zet said.
"Oh?"
Zet itched his neck. He wasn't sure what Merimose thought about trespassing, but the man needed to know. "We snuck in there last night. I talked to my friend, and he pretty much told me something was going on."
The man's dark eyes sparked with interest. "What's going on, then?"
"Well—that's the thing. He couldn't tell me much, because guards showed up."
"Oh."
"I did learn one thing, though, he says Kemet's partner was gotten rid of somehow, because he'd made a big mistake."
"Gotten rid of? I don't like the sound of that."
"Not only that, Hui said Kemet's planning a shipment on the first day of the festival. And he said if we searched them, we could catch them."
"A search is not possible. Not without just cause. Kemet has proven himself innocent, we searched him completely. I'd need solid proof to do it again."
"But you have to!"
"Did Hui say what was in the shipment?"
"No, but does it matter?"
"Yes. As far as what you've told me, Kemet's done nothing wrong. He's bound to make shipments, it's a business after all. And if it eases your worries, my men are examining every ship before it leaves Thebes. They're looking for stolen scarabs, and any illegal shipment will be found, no matter what it is."
"But what about Kemet's partner disappearing?"
"Most likely apprentice gossip. People make up rumors. Especially when they're cooped up with each other for a long time. Look, like I said, I'm not a fan of Kemet. But he's wealthy. I don't think he'd sabotage his business over a few baubles."
What more could Zet say?
Still, he was sure Hui was in danger. Hui said so himself.
Merimose stood. "I need to get back to my office. As for you, just focus on your stall here. It's a good one."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cracked
Merimose was nearly out of the square, when Zet had a sudden brain flash.
"Merimose!" Zet shouted. He sprinted past the goat pen, and a stall selling cabbages and carrots. "Merimose, wait up!"
Merimose stopped at a pen of honking geese. He raised one brow, waiting.
Shoppers watched as if wondering what business a twelve-year-old, barefoot nobody could have with the head medjay. Merimose did look impressive, with his polished sword and breastplate gleaming in the sunlight. If you didn't know him, he might even frighten you. Zet realized then just how lucky he was to call such an important man his friend.
"Well?" Merimose asked.
"I had a question."
"I told you to stay out of this one," Merimose warned.
"I know. I was just wondering—" He blurted out, "You know the servant who was attacked? Whose house did he work at? You never said."
Merimose's face darkened. "And I don't plan to. Stay out of it, Zet. Don't you dare go questioning people in the Khonsu District. That servant was almost killed. These are dangerous people."
"But I helped you before, on another case. Maybe I can help now."
"You lucked out last time."
"Ouch," Zet said, stung. "It was a bit more than luck."
"This isn't a game. People could die."
Zet shuffled his feet. Yes, people could die, maybe even Hui. But Merimose didn't seem to understand that. Zet glanced down at the honking geese. The closest bird ruffled its feathers and blinked hopefully. Zet wished he had a handful of grains.
How could he convince Merimose that Hui needed help?
Merimose cut in on his thoughts. "I need to get back to my office. If you hear from your friend, report it to me. Understood?"
Zet nodded.
Merimose studied him, his face suspicious. "I'm serious, Zet, this case is too dangerous for you to go meddling around."
"Zet!" Kat called, saving him from answering. "I need you!"
"Gotta go," Zet said, glad to escape.
The mid-morning swarm had descended. Things got busy, and it wasn't until closing time that Zet remembered the ivory ball. When they'd finished packing up for the evening, he stuck it under his arm.
"Come on, let's go home, I'd rather look at it there," he told Kat.
They ran, headlong through the streets, enjoying the cool air and the shadowed paving stones against their bare feet.
Suddenly, a man stepped out of his doorway and slammed into Zet.
The linen-wrapped ball flew one way, Zet the other. Eyes on the flying package, Zet somersaulted and stretched as far as he could. The ball landed in his fingertips. But his relief was short lived. The man lost his footing. He took Zet and the ball down with him.
They landed in a heap.
The ball made a sickening crunch.
"Watch where you're going!" the man grumbled.
"Sorry," Zet said. Gingerly, he lifted his package into his arms. Even without unwrapping it, he knew the ball was broken.
The man's face softened. "I hope it wasn't something important."
"It wasn't your fault," Zet said. "I'm sorry I knocked you down."
After that, Zet and Kat walked more slowly. Their route took them down a busy thoroughfare. People bumped up against Zet in their hurry to get home. With each jolt to the package, he could feel a loose piece of ivory moving around.
"Stop," Zet told Kat. "Let's go back there behind the temple of Maat. I want to see how badly it's broken."
She nodded and they padded quietly past the towering structure.
The sky was still blue, despite the late hour. A pointed obelisk stood in the distance, framed between the walls of the narrow alley. Hieroglyphs had been carved into the stone; the writing stretched up as far as he could see.
"Okay, Hui," he said. "This ball of yours better tell us something."
He removed the linen, and dropped the covering to the ground.
The globe was still in one piece. A crack, however, zigzagged across its milky surface. Zet pried the crack apart. It was hard to see inside, but there was definitely something in there. Something pale brown. It almost looked like . . . no, that couldn't be right!
"Here goes nothing." Crouching, he smashed the ball against the flagstones.
The crack widened.
"Zet!" Kat gasped, her voice a mixture of horror and curiosity.
"Hui said to look at it. Well, I'm looking at it." He smashed it again. This time, the ivory came apart in two jagged pieces. His mouth dropped wide when he saw what the ball contained. He'd been right.
Kat's brow creased. "Is that bread?"
"Yep."
"Is that for padding or something? Do they normally put bread in ivory carvings?"
Zet rolled his eyes.
"No," she said, coloring. "No, I guess that would be stupid. It must be a clue then."
Zet pondered the roll. One half of the ivory shell still clung to it.
"Did you talk about bread when you were there?" Kat asked.
"Not really. Well, I guess sort of. At lunch, we had bread from the bakery next door. It was good, and we talked about it being good. That's about it."
"Maybe he wants you to talk to the people at the bakery?" Kat said.
"But he could have just said so on the roof." Zet pried the remaining ivory shell from it, set the shell down and turned the bread roll over. "There's a hole in the bottom."
"Let's see!"
Zet wedged a finger into the crust. "I think there's somethin
g in there! Yes, I feel something!"
"What is it?"
"Something metal!"
"Pull it out!"
Zet ripped the bread in half. A gleaming object fell into his lap. He gasped.
"A golden scarab," Kat breathed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A Scarab of Gold
Zet stared at the object in his hand, unable to believe his eyes. The scarab had to be worth a fortune! Its jewels winked at him, and the polished gold seemed to give off a light of its own. A large red stone had been set in the middle, and the beetle itself was colored with crushed blue lapis.
"Don't let anyone see!" Kat hissed.
Zet snatched the linen cover and partially wrapped it again. "This thing is crazy," he said. "It's like something Pharaoh would have."
"I know! But Zet, it's a scarab! Which means it's all connected!"
"Yes, but how?" Zet frowned, trying to put himself in Hui's shoes.
What was Hui trying to say? Zet turned the scarab over, shielding it from prying eyes with the linen. When he saw the underside, his confusion grew.
"What in the name of the gods? Look at this."
The scarab beetle's belly was not gold, or bejeweled in any way. Instead, it was a dusty red color.
The bottom is made of . . ." He picked at it with one fingernail. "Clay?"
"Clay?" Kat said. "Let me see that." She took it from him.
"That is the strangest thing I've ever seen," Zet said. "It's the most expensive thing in the world if you look at the top, and the cheapest bauble known to mankind if you look at the bottom!" He ran a hand over his scalp and let out a frustrated groan. "Hui!" he said, speaking to the sky. "This would be a lot easier if you hid a note in there!"
"He can't write," Kat said.
"I know."
"And neither can you."
"Okay, okay. Don't rub it in! Little Miss I-learned-hieratic-script-and-you-should-have-too."
"Well maybe now you see why it was a good idea. What did you want him to do, dictate a rescue note to Kemet's scribe?"
Zet rolled his eyes.
"But hold on," she said. "Let me see it again." Kat crouched down, holding the underside to face the dying light. "There's something here, scratched on the bottom."
Zet bent closer. She was right!
Two lines, side-by-side, with a connecting line at the bottom.
"It's the symbol for the number two!" he said.
She nodded. "It must mean something. They're carefully drawn. It's obvious he put the symbol there for a reason."
But what reason?
Hui had done the best he could do by making this missive. It must have been dangerous; he would have had to make it in secret. But what was Hui trying to say? What did a strange, half gold, half clay scarab, with the number two on the bottom, embedded in a piece of bread mean? How was it connected to the scarab thefts? Or the shipment? Or Kemet's missing partner?
Feeling more frustrated than ever, they headed home. Once inside, Zet bee-lined for the kitchen and hid the scarab at the bottom of a basket of onions.
"No one will look for it here," he said.
"What are we going to do?" Kat asked.
"Tomorrow I'll go talk to the people at the bakery," he said.
Kat nodded. "They must know something." She let out a sigh of relief. "Maybe we don't know what the amulet means, but I feel like we're getting somewhere. I really do! And you know what, there's something else to look forward to."
"What's that?"
"Finally we're going to have an answer for those women. Mother comes home tomorrow!"
"You're right! Thank the gods for that!"
With this cheerful thought, the two of them rummaged around the kitchen and put together a simple meal.
Kat carried bowls of food to the dining area; Zet set two lamps flickering on the table to chase away the darkness. They munched on thick slices of bread, heaps of spicy, chickpea stew, and garlicky, roasted vegetables. There was a jug of good, cold fermented barley water to wash it down. And for dessert, there was a pale yellow sweet cake. It was so delicious that they ate nearly half of it, drizzling their thick pieces with honey.
Finally, satisfied, Zet groaned and leaned back against the wall.
"What's that you're wearing around your neck?" Zet asked her.
Kat's hands went to it. "My pendant Hui made," she said in a high voice.
"Yeah, but beside it. The other thing on the chain."
She shrugged.
"Is that a protection amulet?" he said, squinting at the tiny roll of papyrus.
"Don't laugh."
"Am I laughing?"
"Yes!"
"Please don't tell me you got that from Akar."
Kat colored.
"It's not demons! I'm telling you, it's something else! We have a scarab here from Hui. Obviously this whole thing has something to do with the workshop!"
"Maybe," she squeaked. "Or maybe the demons will come here looking for that scarab, and we'll really be in trouble."
Zet tried hard not to laugh. He really did.
But he couldn't help it. Somehow, the thought of demons rushing in the door and searching the onion basket made him laugh until tears streamed down his face.
Kat punched his arm, but she was grinning. "Just help me clear the dishes, big brother."
Chapter Twenty-Four
A Contest
On the way to work the next morning, Zet was thoughtful.
"I just wish there was some way to question the people in Khonsu Street," he said.
"You mean to ask for information about the attack on the servant?" Kat said.
"Yes. Even if it's not the right house, people gossip, everyone over there must know about it. Maybe I could learn something useful. But it's not like I could just go knock on someone's door and say, 'Hi, I'm Zet! Would you tell me what you know about the servant who was attacked? And by the way, has anyone stolen your scarabs?'"
Kat giggled. "No. Probably not."
"Anyway, maybe I'll learn something from the bakers. You're sure you don't mind if I go over there after we open up?"
"I can manage the stall," she said. "We have to help Hui. We don't have a choice!"
Kat chewed her lower lip as she walked. He knew that look. She was smart, even though he'd never actually tell her that, and she was onto something.
"What are you thinking?" Zet said.
"It's a long shot."
"What is?"
"We could have a contest."
Zet stared at her, completely baffled. This was the last thing he expected her to say. "A contest?"
She outlined her plan. "It might work, right?"
His heart leapt. "It's good. It's really good!"
As Zet opened up, Kat disappeared into the back of the stall.
"How's it going?" he called. "Are you almost finished?"
"Almost."
He wandered back and found her kneeling on the ground, writing on a big piece of linen.
"There," she said, with a final flourish of her brush. She held it up. "What do you think? It says: Happy Opet Festival! Enter to win this bowl."
"It's perfect!" Zet said.
"And this is the bowl." She held up a big, brightly colored serving bowl that was certain to stand out. Painted blue ibis birds flew gracefully around its rim.
"Don't forget to get their street addresses," Zet said.
"Like I would! I'm not stupid. In case you forgot, this was my idea!" She went out front to hang up her sign. "Help me with this, and then go to the bakery."
Zet helped her hang the sign, but decided to hang around in the hopes they'd get lucky early. Dusty light filled the stone plaza. At the stall next door, Geb, the old herb-vendor, removed the lids from his wares and set them out on display. The scent of cardamom, cinnamon and cumin rose from the mounds of brightly colored spices. Across the way, Salatis piled fresh golden dates into his baskets.
Customers were flooding in, too. The jar of entries
started filling up fast.
Everyone wanted a chance at winning the beautiful bowl.
"Anyone from the Khonsu Street area?" Zet asked, for the tenth time.
"Stop asking me!" Kat said. "Just go to the bakery, will you? You're driving me crazy."
"All right, all right!" he said, grinning.
"But Zet?" she said, looking suddenly worried.
"Yeah?"
"Promise you won't let the Kemet workshop people see you in there."
He hadn't thought of that. What if one of the men from next door came to the bakery to buy bread? They'd recognize him as Hui's friend from visiting day. And then they might connect him with the disturbance from the night before. How would he explain his presence in the artisan quarter? It could be bad. Very bad.
Still, to Kat he said, "They wouldn't remember me. I'm just another kid."
"Okay," she said doubtfully.
With that, Zet took off at a run.
Hopefully he could get in and out, questions answered, without being seen by Kemet's henchmen.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Into The Oven
Zet wound his way back to the artisan quarter. The route was beginning to feel familiar, and he made his way quickly through the streets. He passed the familiar stench of the tannery, covering his nose as he ran.
How could anyone spend his days working there?
But that was not his problem. Right now, he had bigger things to worry about. The block with the bakery and the Kemet workshop was right around the corner. As he neared, he hoped to lose himself in the crowds. But unlike near his market square, crowds in this part of Thebes were thin. If he'd been clever, he might have thought to disguise himself. Hui would have; that's for certain. He'd have pulled out his mother's face paints, like some black kohl, to draw a crazy beard on his face or something.
Too late now.
Zet reached the familiar block and paused in the shadow of a doorway to survey the scene. To his relief, the locked gate was deserted. Not that Kemet would bother posting a guard. His henchmen wouldn't be expecting Zet to return. Especially in broad daylight. Only someone stupid would do that.
