by Scott Peters
She shrugged her delicate shoulders. "I suppose so. Although I had a look just now and it was all terrible stuff. Big and clunky and really old-fashioned. Probably they realized they could never sell it."
"They could melt it down, though, couldn't they? And sell the gold?" Zet asked.
"I suppose. I hadn't thought of that."
"What's everyone saying about it over there?"
She laughed. "That it's the work of the demon army. That they were looking for scarabs to eat, and didn't find any. You should see some of them, I swear, they're terrified out of their minds. We're all cursed! You know, that sort of gibberish."
"And you don't believe it?"
She considered this a moment. "If you want my honest opinion, no. If a demon army had bothered to come here, to this street, I think we'd know about it."
Zet didn't bother to ask how they'd know. Instead, he said, "Then what is going on?"
Her face took on a focused look, as if she were trying to see something, or maybe put it all together. "Here's what I think. It's not just any scarab the thief wants. He's looking for one scarab in specific. Obviously, he's desperate to get it. He's taking a lot of risks, coming back to Khonsu Street again and again."
It was an interesting idea.
"But could one piece of jewelry be that important to someone?" he said.
She frowned at him. "Look, I don't feel like standing here arguing with you. Are you going to give me the bowl or not?"
He handed it over, thinking it a shame such a pretty girl could have such a sharp temper. She cradled the bowl tightly, and her eyes seemed to soften as she studied the design along its rim.
"The water-birds are pretty," she said.
"Thanks. We get our things from a pottery guild down river."
"I know," she said without looking him. "That was my village, once. I'll take good care of it," she said, and disappeared inside.
Zet stared after her, surprised at this turn of events. But there was no time to wonder about the girl and what had brought her away from her family. The afternoon shadows were growing longer. He needed to get back to his stall.
He left the well-swept streets of the Khonsu district behind.
Still, her theory about the jewels was a good one. Could Kemet be looking for a specific piece of jewelry? Trying to get it back, maybe? How did it all tie together?
So many questions swirled in his mind that his head hurt.
By the time he spotted the familiar tented awnings of the marketplace, the wooden slats of the goat pen, and the baskets of produce up ahead, he had a pounding headache.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Fakes
Zet rubbed his face as he wound behind the stacks of pottery. A group of women stood chattering away to Kat, all of them laughing in the afternoon sunlight. It was hard to imagine Hui, trapped in the gloomy workshop with its big guards and spying slots when Ra, the sun god, stood brightly overhead.
Zet caught snatches of the women's conversation.
"What do you think the Royal Wife will be wearing?"
"Something glorious. Do you remember that gown she wore last year?"
"The one made of solid gold?"
"It wasn't solid gold. Don't be silly."
"It was! I heard it was constructed all out of gold beads, held together with gold thread."
"Well I just acquired a copy of the Royal Wife's wedding necklace to wear," said a tall woman, changing the subject. She had her hair all done up on top of her head.
At her words, something sparked in Zet's mind. The hairs stood up on his neck.
"A copy?" he asked, joining the woman.
"You got it today? Is it in your bag? Let's see!" said another.
The tall woman's face brightened, clearly enjoying the fuss. "It's right here."
"Zet," Kat said, trying to pull him aside. He saw by the set of her shoulders that something was wrong, and that her smiles and chatter had been nothing more than forced politeness. She was worried.
Still, he said, "Just a minute. I want to see them."
"But Zet!"
"Hold on!"
The woman unwrapped the necklace and held it to the light.
Zet had never paid much attention to jewelry before, but now he found himself examining the glittering beads.
"Pretty, isn't it?" she said.
"Do lots of jewelers make copies of things?" he asked, trying to sound more casual than he felt.
"Certainly. Not many can afford the real thing. It's still expensive, but the beads are wooden instead of solid gold. They're painted with real gold leaf."
A chill ran through him. "And the other beads? The clear ones? They must be real."
"Some are colored glass, some are semi-precious stones that look similar to their more expensive cousins."
"You'd never guess," Zet said.
Is that what Hui was trying say with his scarab? That some of the jewels they made at the Kemet workshop were fakes? Still, if lots of jewelers did it, then the fact Kemet's jewels were fake shouldn't be a problem.
As long as he told the truth.
What if he lied to people? Was it possible to make copies of jewels so well that people couldn't tell the difference?
If a person was skilled enough, Zet bet they could.
"Zet, you've seen it. Now can I please talk to you?" Kat whispered. Louder, she apologized to the woman for dragging her brother away.
When they reached the back of the stall her smile faltered. She was shaking all over.
"What's the matter?" Zet said quickly.
"Men came here," she gasped.
"What kind of men?"
"Horrible looking men. Like the ones from the workshop. I think it was the same people who chased us."
His heart slammed in his ears. "What did you do?"
Her face was pale. "Nothing. Fortunately, it was crowded. They asked for you, though. By name."
Zet swallowed. "I told Kemet I owned a pottery stall."
"Oh, Zet! It's all my fault! You know what this means, don't you? They've put it all together—the fact that Hui was out of his room, and me screaming in the garbage pit. They know it's connected!"
"Well by that reasoning, it's my fault for going to see Hui in the first place. Forget it, okay? We're not going to get anywhere by blaming ourselves. So we made mistakes. We both did. We have to get Hui out. That's all."
"That's not all! The men will probably come back here!"
"What did you say to them?"
"I told them I'd never heard of you," she said.
"Well, at least there's that." He grinned. "Most of the time, you probably wish it was true."
"Stop joking," she said, but still a whisper of a smile touched her lips.
The women had dispersed, and the crowds were beginning to thin.
"We should go home," Zet said. "There's no point in risking staying here any longer."
"I agree. But you should leave right now," Kat said, "Before they come back. I'll close up myself and meet you at home."
Zet decided not to argue. It was a good idea to distance himself from the stall. No point in getting them both in trouble.
"But I'm not going home until you're in the clear. I'll make myself scarce, but I'll keep an eye on you from a distance. I don't want them coming back and trying to drag you away for questioning."
"I hadn't thought of that," she said, the color draining from her face.
Zet went to the back of the stall where he'd hid the scarab. It occurred to him then that if the thugs had managed to search the stall, and had found this piece, it would point straight to Hui.
He wrapped the scarab and snuck out the back, into the adjoining stall.
Chapter Thirty
Friends
Geb, the grizzled herb-seller, glanced up and shot him a look. His white brows were thick and tufted; he looked like a serious, old bird. He was covering up his baskets of spices, herbs, clothing dyes and pounded wheat grain.
"Happy Ope
t Festival," Zet said.
Geb nodded. "And to you and your family."
Zet hurried into the nearest alley. It was deserted and dark in shadow. He looked both ways, and then scaled the wall. On the roof, he lay belly down and inched forward until he could see Kat far below across the square.
So far, so good.
She lifted stacks of plates and piled them against the rear of the stall. She dragged the big vase backward. She took out the thick sheets and tied them down. Geb said something to her. Kat replied with a smile.
Hurry up, Zet thought, and glanced toward one of the streets that led into the little square. His body went rigid. Two large, powerful looking men appeared.
Snaggletooth! And his henchman!
Zet looked back at Kat, unable to breath as he willed her to hurry up. She was still talking to Geb. What could be so important? He wanted to shout a warning, but that would draw the thugs' attention. His fists clenched, and sweat prickled on his neck.
Go! Hurry up!
Finally, she started to move off.
Across the square, the thugs were drawing closer. Kat kept moving, ducking through a stall hung with scarves, and then heading around the goat pen. The thugs had reached the stall. They looked this way and that.
Kat, however, had reached the entrance to an alley that would take her into the maze of streets. Zet allowed himself a small breath of relief. They weren't out of the clear yet. The thugs started to poke around their closed stall.
Then, to Zet's shock, Salatis, the grumpy date-seller, yelled, "Get away from there."
Snaggletooth turned and glared at the wiry, sun-wrinkled man.
"You heard me," Salatis crowed.
Geb joined in. "Move off. That stall's closed."
Zet could hardly believe it. Zet thought the two vendors wanted him kicked out! And there they were defending his wares? He wanted to cheer the pair of brave old men on. Snaggletooth marched at them with a menacing look, however, and Zet grew worried.
The thug could snap Salatis and Geb in half singlehanded.
"Move off, I say!" came a third voice, speaking in a slow, spooky tone. It was Akar, the strange new vendor. He was waving some kind of wand. "Move off, I tell you!" he chanted, waving at Snaggletooth. "Be gone, big guy."
Snaggletooth looked momentarily surprised. "What's it to you?"
"I shall curse you with horrible boils! Be gone!"
Zet didn't know whether to laugh or whoop with joy at the sight.
"What Akar here is trying to say," Salatis explained, "Is we protect our own!"
"Really?" Snaggletooth said.
"Really." Salatis crossed his arms, his skinny legs planted like wishbones.
"And how are you going to do that, stork-legs?"
"This is how," came a fourth voice. The soft-spoken woman sold scarves. She stepped forward with a dozen other stall owners.
Then the rest appeared. They came out from under their awnings, one after the other. Skinny, fat, young and old.
Zet's heart swelled. He blinked back a few embarrassed tears.
Snaggletooth could never fight them all.
Zet had never felt so honored, so proud to be called a member of that group.
Snaggletooth swore under his breath. Clearly, he realized he'd been beaten. Without another word, the pair of scary men walked away. Just before Snaggletooth exited the square, however, he glanced around.
Zet ducked low against the roof. But he caught the look on the man's ugly face. Snaggletooth wore an expression so murderous, the hair stood up on Zet's arms.
If Zet wanted to stay among the living, he'd have to make sure they never crossed paths again. But that wasn't going to be easy. Not if he wanted to help Hui.
When the coast was clear, he slid to the ground and sprinted for home.
Kat met him at the door, her face a mask of fright.
"Mother's not back," she said.
The words hit him like a stone. Without a word, he ran for the wharf.
Kat pounded along behind, matching his strides.
At the wharf, they found the man they'd met the night before.
"Nope, still haven't seen her," he said. This time there was worry in his voice, too. Still, he added, "Now children, I'm sure there's a good reason."
"I want to hire a boat," Zet said. "Right now."
"Not possible. Do you see any boats here? They're all rented out for the festival ceremonies tomorrow. People hired 'em out so they could watch the chariot race along the Avenue of the Sphinx from the comfort of a boat. Can't say I blame 'em. There's going to be a lot of pushing and shoving to get good seats along the Avenue."
Zet was too dazed to answer.
Had something awful happened to their mother and Apu?
He and Kat stumbled home.
Chapter Thirty-One
Understanding
Back home, Zet went straight to the household shrine. He knelt in front of the statue of Bastet. The cat goddess regarded him with her gold-rimmed eyes. He lit a cone of incense for her and stroked her smooth, ebony head.
"Please bring Mother and Apu home safe," he whispered. "And Hui, too."
Kat joined him, her face red and tearstained in the lamplight.
"What are we going to do?" she asked.
His stomach turned with fear. How could his mother be two whole days late? What if something happened? What if she never came back? The vision opened like a shadowy abyss. He hung on the edge of a future so black and horrible that he tore his mind away.
"I don't know, Kat," he said quietly.
They sat like that until the incense burned away to nothing.
Zet rubbed his face, and then looked at his little sister. "Maybe I can't help Mother right now. But I can still try to help Hui. I have to. There's no point in me sitting here any longer, it won't bring her home."
Kat wiped away her tears and blew her nose. "What are you going to do?"
"Remember those women talking about fake jewels?"
She nodded. "Kemet's making fakes and telling people they're real, isn't he. That's the meaning behind Hui's scarab."
"Yes. But I think it's more than that. There has to be a reason for the thefts. They don't fit into the puzzle. Why make fakes and sell them, and steal them back? I want to have another look at Hui's scarab."
In the kitchen, he pulled the package from its hiding place in the onion basket. He unwrapped it.
"What do you think this number two means?" he said. "Why did he put that there?"
Kat twisted her braid in her fist. "You know when we get pottery pieces from the guild, and there's more than one in the same style?"
"Yes."
"Well, on the bottom, the artist marks the matching pieces with a number. One, two, three, and so on. It makes it easier for me to keep records. If five matching plates come in, I mark that down. Then, when we barter one, I cross it off my list and I know how many we have left."
"Okay," he said, wondering where she was going with this.
"What if he's trying to say there are two fake scarabs? Could that be possible?"
Zet froze. "That's it! That's exactly it!"
"It is?"
"Yes! You're brilliant! Don't you see? There are two fake scarabs! Kemet got one of the fakes back when he attacked that servant in Khonsu Street last week. But there's still one more out there."
"What are you talking about? Why bother stealing something after he just sent it out the door?"
"Because he made a mistake!"
Kat looked even more confused.
"Think about it—two scarabs went in for cleaning. Right? And maybe, instead of cleaning them, Kemet made two copies to send back, so he could keep the good ones for himself."
"Yes . . ."
"But when his partner made the two copies, he screwed them up! He switched the stones around by mistake!"
"You mean, like he gave one scarab a yellow stone for a head, and the other one got a blue head, when they were supposed to be the opposite?"
"Exactly! And any owner would spot the difference instantly."
"But how would Kemet know, if his partner's the one who made them?"
"The partner must have realized his mistake after. Maybe he picked up the real ones to put them away for safekeeping. And then it struck him the stones weren't right. And then he knew. So, he warned Kemet, who sent Snaggletooth after the servants. Except they only stopped one scarab from getting to its owner."
"Which means one scarab is still out there, like a ticking time bomb, waiting for the owner to look at it," Kat gasped.
Zet nodded. "I guess Kemet was mad enough that he got rid of the partner. Whatever that means." He shuddered. "And now he's forced Hui to do the man's dirty work. He's forced Hui into making his fakes."
The lamp guttered, casting creepy shadows dancing along the walls.
"That's where Hui was going in the boat that day," Kat said softly. "To the private workshop at Kemet's house. This is awful, Zet! I see why Hui said he can't escape. If Kemet had his partner killed, he'll kill Hui too for ratting him out." She held her stomach and groaned. "I feel sick."
"Well, I don't. I feel mad. The shipment must be all the real jewels. Kemet must ship them upriver to sell in another city. He's probably been doing it for years. No wonder he's so rich! But I'm going to bust him, and show everyone he's been replacing his repairs with fakes, and stealing the real things."
"Zet, if all this is true, then it's going to work out! Kemet will get caught eventually. The person with the mixed up scarab will take it out and look at it, and he'll raise the alarm. And the medjay will be brought in."
"I don't think Kemet plans to wait around."
"What do you mean?"
"My guess is he's going to escape, along with tomorrow's shipment, and disappear forever. The stolen gold and jewels will pay to keep him alive, wherever he goes. Even if he has to abandon his mansion and business here." Zet paced back and forth, running a hand over his scalp.
"You should go to the medjay. Right now!" Kat said.
"And say what? They won't believe me, not without proof. I have to do it myself."
