by Scott Peters
"How? Alone? You're just a kid!"
"I'll figure it out when I get there," Zet said.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Action
In the kitchen, faint moonlight strobed through the straw roof overhead.
"I want to come—" Kat began.
"No." Zet's voice was flat. "Not after last time. Let me do this my way Kat. I don't want you screwing this up."
She looked upset, but said nothing.
Going to the stove, he took out some coals and blackened his face, arms, hands and feet. This time, he'd be going to the workshop in disguise. He needed every edge he could get. He smeared the coals around until he was dark and filthy.
Kat found a rough sack that once held emmer wheat grains. She cut holes for his neck and arms. "Wear this. Kemet's men will never recognize you dressed like a beggar."
He slid the rough outfit over his head. It was scratchy, and he knew he looked terrible. Which was great. She handed him a coil of twine. He wound it around his waist like a belt.
"It's a costume worthy of Hui," Kat said.
"It is, isn't it? He'd love it. No one's going to notice a filthy beggar like me now!"
She wished him luck and he stepped into the night, wearing the biggest grin in the world. This was going to work.
He headed for the artisan quarter, but at the last moment, he switched directions. He'd give Merimose one last shot. Maybe the head medjay would believe him, if Zet told him the whole story. Stopping Kemet would be easy with a band of policemen to help.
He soon reached the police station.
The surrounding streets were deserted. Lamps flickered in sconces on either side of the station door. He hurried up the steps. Light spilled from the interior. The whitewashed office was like an oasis of bright safety in the dark night.
An officer stood just inside the front door.
"Whoa there, boy. Lost your way?"
"No, I'm looking for Merimose. The head medjay."
The big man look amused. "Are you now? Well, he's not here."
"I know I look strange," Zet said, "but, well, I'm in costume."
"Little late for a boy to be out in a party costume," said the big man.
The doorman's partner, who sat behind a desk, laughed. "That's your idea of a party costume?"
Zet recognized the deskman from earlier visits, but couldn't think of his name. "I wasn't at a party," Zet said. "I need help. I know who's behind the scarab thefts, and we have to stop them."
Both men looked sharply at him. "Stop who?"
"The people at the Kemet Workshop. They're planning a big shipment in the morning. You have to stop it!"
Silence fell. A breeze crept through the front door, causing the lamps to flicker.
Zet shuffled his feet, waiting.
"What kind of shipment?" the deskman asked.
"Stolen jewels."
The officers shot him skeptic looks. Clearly, his appearance wasn't helping any. His sackcloth outfit was itchy beyond belief. He rubbed his belly, where the scratchiness was the worst. Both men watched, their mouths turning down at the corners.
"That's a story, if I've ever heard one," the doorman said.
"Boy," said the deskman, "If I was even inclined to believe you, which I'm not, no shipment leaves town without a search. Security has been stepped way up. And with the Royal Family out in full force tomorrow morning, every officer will be on duty."
Zet said, "But the thieves must know that. I'm sure they have a plan! Please—"
"Wait." The doorman grinned and stuck his head outside. "Someone's pulling a joke on us here, aren't they? I get it, Festival First Day station humor for us guys stuck here all night."
The deskman laughed. "Has to be Paneb. Was it Paneb?" he asked Zet. "An officer with an Eye of Horus tattoo on his right bicep? How much did he pay you?" He glanced outside too, as if expecting to see their friend laughing in the street.
"No one paid me!" Zet said. "It's the truth!"
"You're good," the deskman said. "Beggar-boy, I think you've got a career as an actor in your future."
"I'm not acting. Don't you recognize me? I helped Merimose before!"
"You're bringing the station chief into it? That's going too far." The doorman took Zet by his collar, lifted him with one burly arm and deposited him outside. "Joke's over."
"But it's not a joke. I'm telling you—"
"Clear out," the doorman said. He wasn't smiling.
Zet knew when to stop. He left before they decided to throw him in a cell overnight. He couldn't afford to get trapped behind bars.
Outside, a hush had fallen over the streets.
It was as if everyone were waiting with baited breath for what tomorrow would hold. The beginning of the Opus Festival, chariot race down the Avenue of the Sphinxes, and if the rumors were true, an attack from a demon army of dead Hyksos soldiers.
Zet knew now that the scarab-eating demons weren't real.
At least, he hoped so.
Something brushed his ankle. He leapt into the air with a yelp.
Yellow kitten-eyes gleamed at him in the velvet dark.
"You scared me," Zet whispered.
The ebony colored kitten reminded him of Bastet, their family goddess, back home. He breathed a sigh of relief. He bent and she let him scratch her ears.
Then she scampered off into a curtained doorway and was gone.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Broken God
If the Kemet Workshop had anything special going on, you couldn't tell from the street. Zet stared at the blackened iron gate, with its knife like bars sharpened to points at the top. No lamps were lit. Apart from the partial moon, the whole area was pitch black and silent.
Zet guessed he had four hours to wait until sunrise.
He decided to make use of his time by doing a full circuit of the workshop. He wanted to make sure the gated entry was the only exit through which the stolen shipment would come.
Halfway around, Zet reached the notorious, foul garbage pit.
Zet paused to peer through the wooden gate. His jaw dropped. Someone had cleaned the whole thing out. It was empty, from end to end. He thought of Kat screaming, sure there had been fingers grabbing her. But maybe there were other clues Kemet was worried might get found if the pit was examined.
He felt stupid for not thinking of it earlier.
But it was too late to worry about that now.
Still, Zet climbed over, wanting to get a closer look. The long, dark walls were stained with remains. A faint, foul odor still hung in the air. He turned fully, looking in all directions, when something caught his eye.
Some kind of small statue leaned up against the gate.
Like it had been placed there on purpose.
Zet crouched down. A shudder of terror shot from the base of his neck to his ankles.
It was Hui's family god, Bes!
He'd recognize the cheerful statue Hui kept by his bedside anywhere.
The little dwarf god looked up at him with his happy face of stone. Except the dwarf wasn't quite himself. His right ear, which stuck out in a comical fashion, had been broken off. As had one of his legs. The sight of Bes so destroyed was like finding his best friend Hui, all smashed to pieces.
Was this a message? Was Kemet trying to say something, by leaving Hui's protective statue out here like this? Had he known Zet would return? Or worse, had Kemet just throwing Bes away because Hui was no longer . . .
Zet wouldn't finish the thought.
Hui was alive. He had to be. It couldn't be too late! It just couldn't!
In confused desperation, Zet searched for the little guy's arm. And then his ear. He held the god and his broken pieces to his chest, as if doing so could somehow keep his friend safe.
Zet's fear soon turned to fury.
He had to know if Hui was alive. He didn't care if what he was about to do was stupid. He was going in for a look.
"I'll come back for you," he told Bes.
Climbing onto the roof was harder this time, without the tall pile to climb over. Still, he found handholds in the rough walls, and hauled himself up. Taking less care than he should have, he dropped into the Kemet Workshop courtyard. On silent feet, he sprinted for Hui's room.
The door stood open. One boy slept on the bed to the left.
Zet's heart dropped to his toes.
Hui's bed was empty. Completely stripped to its frame. Not a shred of Hui's things remained. No clothing. No hippo's tooth.
Hui was gone.
In a daze, Zet backed out into the hall.
He heard voices heading his way. He wanted to run toward them. To shout at them, to demand what they'd done with his best friend. But what use would that be? Nothing! He hated himself for leaving, but he had no choice.
He turned his back on Hui's empty bed and left.
Back in the garbage alley, Zet scooped Bes into his arms and clambered out. He cradled the broken god, as if it were his best friend himself. As if by keeping the god together, he could somehow bring Hui back.
He felt beaten down as he shuffled along the gritty street. The humidity made the air thick and hard to breathe. Partway along the block, someone had tried to grow a few potted plants. The stems, however, were straggly and dead. Zet pulled the pots out a little ways, and set Bes behind them. It was as good a hiding spot as any, and he couldn't carry the little god around if he wanted to confront Kemet and his shipment.
If nothing else, he'd confirmed there was only one way out of Kemet's workshop.
He found a dark alcove across the street and sank down to post up for the night.
If anything or anyone came out that door, he'd be on his feet in an instant.
It was time to end this nightmare.
Chapter Thirty-Four
And They're Off!
The mutter of voices made Zet start upright. He must have fallen asleep.
Dawn had begun to filter down into the humid, dusty murk. He cursed silently. All those big words to Kat about doing things himself—and here he’d fallen asleep?
Panic and a sickening feeling gripped him. What had he missed? How long had he been out? He rubbed his eyes hard and stared across the street.
Had someone come out the gate, while he dozed like a fool?
There was no way to tell.
Suddenly, the bakeshop's curtained doorway was thrust aside. A large wooden cart emerged into the street. Kissa, the kinder of the two twins—the one with the puckered scar—was pushing it.
Round loaves of bread had been piled high in the shape of a pyramid. The wheels creaked and groaned under the weight.
Kakra, the second twin, emerged. She took hold of the opposite side of the cart and helped push.
Zet ducked lower. Kissa and Kakra, however, didn’t look around. Grim-faced, perhaps unhappy at having to work on a holiday, they trudged forward. Grit crunched under the turning wheels, and the cart took up a rhythm, rolling and grinding off down the street.
Zet let his head fall back against the wall behind him.
What should he do now?
Keep waiting?
He thought about the festival getting underway. Despite the early hour, the streets were probably already lined with people. Maybe he could find a medjay and report Hui missing. But there would be no pulling a man away now. Not with the events going on in town.
He was still pondering what to do when the gate to the workshop whispered open. Zet flattened himself against the wall.
Snaggletooth stepped out. The thug glanced over one muscled shoulder, into the workshop’s dark alley entrance. He growled something. A second man replied, then emerged onto the street.
Clearly the two thugs were headed somewhere.
Strangely enough, they were dressed as if they were going to watch the chariot race. They wore festive clothing—clean kilts, some simple jewelry, and Snaggletooth had a red sash around his waist. Cleaned up as he was, he almost looked normal. Almost—but Zet doubted a man with a face like that would ever look normal or fit in anywhere. He was too scary looking.
The thugs were armed with nasty looking weapons. Snaggletooth had a long knife strapped to his waist. He'd polished the scabbard, so it looked somewhat decorative.
His partner had a club studded with nails. At a comment from Snaggletooth, the man laughed. He had a strip of linen in one hand, and he proceeded to wind it around the club as they walked.
Zet realized it would be concealed, but equally deadly. The nails could still harm a person—even kill them—cloth or not. A few strikes from a man that size would knock Zet down, he had no doubt of that.
But the more important issue was, where were they going? The fighters set off, their eyes looking into the distance as if seeing something they planned to do.
Should he follow, or stay and watch the workshop?
Where was the shipment?
He thought back to the way Hui had told him the answer was inside the ball.
Then his mind roamed to the bread. It seemed like a lot of work to get the roll and hollow it out, just to use as stuffing. With a frown, he glanced in the direction the twin bakers pushed the loaded cart. Snaggletooth and the thug had gone the same way.
A thought started to form, but he couldn’t quite grasp it.
Then, with a cry of understanding, he leaped to his feet.
He ran.
He tore along the first few blocks. Snaggletooth and his buddy came into view. The heavily muscled fighters had nearly caught up with the bakers’ cart. Zet slowed and watched.
The two thugs slowed as well, keeping pace with the bakers. They didn’t quite catch up, but remained close enough to be next to the sisters in a few paces. To an outsider, it looked like they had nothing to do with one another.
But Zet knew differently.
Snaggletooth and the huge man with the concealed, barbed club were guarding that cart with their lives.
The bakers merged into the growing trickle of crowds. Zet pushed closer, joining a group of people as they exited a door. They glanced at him strangely, noting his filthy outfit. One of them fiddled in a pouch, produced a copper kite and offered it to him.
Zet shook his head. "Thank you."
The man shrugged. "Happy Opet Festival to you."
This could be a problem; Zet didn't want people noticing him, even if he knew the man was being kind. Still, he stuck near his group and watched the cart ahead. Two well-dressed ladies approached the bakers' cart. Zet could tell the ladies wanted to buy bread. The bakers, however, shook their heads no in a sharp voice.
The elegant ladies, surprised, walked on.
They were approaching an intersection. Medjay had taken up posts on either side of the roadway, and stood in full battle gear. The bakers wheeled their cart toward the road that led left.
The medjay blocked them with his long, wooden spear. "Halt!"
Chapter Thirty-Five
Piles of Bread
"We need to turn here," came the sharp voice of Kakra.
"Road's closed. Go straight, please," the medjay told the twin bakers.
"The road's closed?" Kissa gasped, looking frightened.
"Festival precautions, madam."
"Where can we turn?" Kakra demanded. "We're working here. We need to make a delivery. This bread has been ordered for a special party. We need to get to the Nile!"
"The main road goes to the Nile, madam."
"Yes, but not where I need to be! I need to get farther down!"
"You'll have to carry on straight like everyone else until you get to the Avenue of the Sphinxes." He waved his fiber shield at the main road. "When you get to the waterfront, you can follow the Nile to your party."
Kakra's mouth tightened in a hard line. Kissa paled.
"Fine," Kakra said.
Then she glanced back at Snaggletooth. Under her anger, Zet read dismay mixed with fear. Snaggletooth nodded at Kakra. She wheeled the cart back into the main roadway and carried on.
They ha
d just confirmed every one of Zet's suspicions.
The stolen jewels were hidden in the loaves of bread! The sisters must have baked them right inside so no hole in the bottom would give them away. That's how they planned to get past being searched!
No medjay would give the bread cart a second glance.
Kissa and Kakra simply had to deliver the goods to a boat. A boat, where Kemet would obviously be waiting to make his escape. The bread would be loaded. Right under everyone's noses.
Then Kemet would happily sail away with his load of stolen goods.
Clever Hui, Zet thought. In the end, the ivory ball had told Zet everything. He wondered what his best friend had had to risk getting that information. Hui must have been living in terror, between sneaking around and constructing the fake scarab and ball.
It was up to Zet now to stop that cart.
Snaggletooth glanced over his shoulder.
Zet dodged behind a noisy family. Panic gripped him, but he forced himself to calm down. Snaggletooth must not have seen him; otherwise, he'd be on him right now.
He needed to do something, but what?
Ahead of him, the kids from the family were joking around. One boy jabbed his older brother from behind with a toy sword, and then darted away.
"Quit it!" the older brother said.
"What?" said the boy with sword. "Wasn't me! Must have been the evil spirit!"
"Mom!"
"Stop it, both of you, that's not funny," the mother whispered in a nervous voice.
Until that moment, Zet had forgotten all about the demon army.
Zet knew the demon army didn't exist. But no one else did. He had an idea. Maybe it was time to create a demon of his own.
He followed the crowd a little further, looking for an unguarded alcove where he could slip away. He needed to get to his market square.
With the medjay blocking every side street, he needed a different route. The medjay would never let him through. He'd just have to take to the rooftops.
Fortunately, he was getting his climbing skills back! He hadn't spent this much time clambering around since Hui left home.
