by Lauren Haney
Another disappearance? Bak’s interest sharpened.
“About ten months ago, that was,” Amonmose went on.
“He, too, must be dead, his body hidden where no one can find it. I’d not be surprised to learn that the first disappear ance led to the second and the second to this stranger’s mur der. Do you want one of us to be the fourth victim?”
Bowled over by the torrent of words, User could think of no retort. He had to know that he had no control over Bak and his Medjays. He might not wish them to join his caravan, but if they chose to walk a few paces ahead or behind and to camp close by, he could do nothing but fume.
“Our donkeys won’t be loaded for at least a half hour.
You’ll be ready to leave by then, Lieutenant?”
Bak stood with Senna and Psuro, watching the solitary donkey and drover plod south down the main wadi, taking the body of the unknown man to Kaine. It would be a long, hot trek for man and beast, but the rations token Bak had sup plied, assuring a generous reward upon presentation to the nearest garrison quartermaster, should partly make up for so unpleasant a trek.
“Will we be joining User’s caravan, sir?” Senna asked.
Offering a silent prayer that drover and donkey would have a safe journey, Bak turned to the guide. “What do you recommend, Senna?”
“We’d make better time without them. And…”
“And what?” Psuro asked impatiently.
Senna looked uncertainly at Bak. “Well, sir…” Again he hesitated, but a sharp look from the sergeant drove him on.
“We’d have two guides and two masters, not a good idea at the best of times and especially not here in this harsh and desolate land.”
“User and I would have to come to an understanding.” Bak watched Psuro kick sand over the blackened remains of the fire, leaving no sign of their presence but the soft and uneven surface. “Tell me what you know of Dedu.”
“I can’t vouch for his honesty.” Senna looked toward the well, where the guide in question was lifting a water jar onto a donkey. “He’s from a tribe that ranges the land south of here and along the edge of the Eastern Sea. I’ve heard that in years past he served often as a guide, usually traveling with
User but sometimes leading caravans across the southern route between Waset and the sea. He’s since become a man of substance, with a family and flocks, and seldom strays away from his tribal territory.”
If Dedu was capable enough to toil for the caravan masters entrusted to transport copper and turquoise, he could be de pended upon to lead a small caravan through a less-traveled portion of the Eastern Desert.
“What do you know of User?” Bak asked.
“I’ve heard he’s a hard man, one who doesn’t hesitate to use the whip on men who fail to obey him. They say his hon esty comes and goes, depending upon his needs. He doesn’t trust most nomads, nor do they trust him.”
Bak’s donkeys were fully loaded and ready to travel when
Nebre and Kaha returned to the camp. He told Senna, Min 54
Lauren Haney mose, and Rona to go on ahead with the animals, leading them up the secondary wadi. Whether or not they joined
User’s caravan, he wanted himself and his men at the head of the procession.
When they were well on their way, Bak asked the two
Medjays, “What did you find?”
“I found no sign of the watching man in User’s camp,”
Kaha said. “Not a man among them brought sandals that leave the print I found on the hillside. Nor did I find any re cent sign of nomads other than at the well.”
“What of your search farther afield?” Psuro asked.
“We circled far out around the well and the three camp sites. You must’ve seen us from time to time.” Nebre paused, awaiting Bak’s nod. “We found no tracks of anyone entering or leaving the circle who didn’t belong here.”
Bak eyed the row of tamarisks that rounded the bend to the north. “Those trees are thin, but at night a man could’ve come from upstream unseen.”
Kaha leaned his shield against his leg, freeing a hand so he could adjust the waistband of his kilt. “We took special care when looking for prints in that direction, sir. We found none.”
“We came upon one other likely place,” Nebre said. “A place where rocks have tumbled down and broken apart, forming coarse gravel on the bottom of a wash. A man could walk down the wash, leaving no trace of himself, but we found no sign of disturbance where the gravel tails off into the sand.”
“In other words…” Bak looked from one man to the other, seeking their conclusion.
“We might’ve missed some sign, sir,” Nebre said, “but if not, someone in User’s party must have slain the stranger.”
Crossing his arms in front of his breast, Bak stared up the wadi toward the well and the men and animals preparing to set out. He did not have to think for long. Two men had gone missing and another was dead. One coincidence had troubled him; two he found to be incredible. And here he stood, with an invitation-reluctant though it might be-to join the men most likely to have slain the unnamed man. How could he not accept?
“We’ll travel with the other caravan. It’s better to keep an eye on people you don’t trust than to allow them to go their own way, giving them a chance to do further mischief.”
Chapter 4
Bak stood off to the side of a rough track left on the wadi floor by what had to be hundreds of goats or sheep, mostly the former since they could survive the heat and harsh graz ing easier than could the latter. He had tried to find signs of the nomad family after passing the place where they had been camped, but the sand had been so stirred up by the many sharp hooves that nothing remained but soft grainy un dulations. The few clear tracks he found, those of animals that had wandered away from the path, could have been left in the early hours of the morning-or they could have been made a year or more ago. He suspected they and the mingled tracks on the path had been left by all who had come this way since the last water had flowed down from the mountains.
Two years ago, so Senna said.
Nebre and Kaha had found footprints around dead bushes and a dying acacia where children had gathered wood, but they did not match those of the girls who had watered their goats at the well. He did not suspect their mother of slaying the dead man, but he had an idea that she or her children might know something of his death. Why else would they flee in the dead of night?
Resigned to the fact that they had evaded him, he sent Ne bre and Kaha to scout out the surrounding landscape. He re mained where he was, standing beneath the burning sun, waiting for the caravan to catch up. As he raised his waterbag to drink, sweat slid down his spine beneath his tunic, tickling him. The day promised to be as hot as any he had ever en dured at Buhen.
Senna was the first man to draw near. He walked at the head of the caravan, probing the sand with his long staff.
With luck, any lurking vipers would reveal themselves and slither away. A half-dozen paces back, Rona and Minmose led their string of seven donkeys.
“Are we making good time?” Bak asked the guide.
Senna ventured a wry smile. “User can make no complaint that we’re slowing his caravan.”
“Excellent. We’re not pushing too hard, are we?”
“Like you, sir, I wish to reach the Eastern Sea with every man and animal safe and well.”
Bak clapped the guide on the shoulder and walked back to
Minmose and Rona. After assuring himself that all was well with them and the laden donkeys plodding along in their wake, he let them walk on ahead. The outliers of the lime stone mound to the south were closing in, narrowing the view. He took a final look at the high escarpment that van ished in a bluish haze far to the southwest, following the course of the river that gave life to the land of Kemet. He bade a silent goodbye to the land he could no longer see, tamped down a touch of homesickness, and turned his thoughts to his quest for Minnakht.
About thirty paces behind the la
st animal, he fell in beside
User, walking with Dedu at the head of his string of donkeys.
The nomad murmured an excuse and slipped away.
“What are you doing out here, Lieutenant?” User asked.
“Crossing the Eastern Desert, as you are.”
“Don’t give me that!” the explorer scoffed. “You and your men are like birds with broken wings, creatures out of your element. You know nothing of this land except what you’ve been told. Worse yet, you’ve placed yourselves in the hands of a man you don’t know, one whose integrity may not be all it should be.”
Bak resented being thought an innocent, but kept his tone level, untroubled. “You underestimate us, User. My men and
I know exactly what we face. A cruel and waterless land scape, where the slightest accident can disable a man to a point where he can die. Where an unseen viper can leap out of the sand and doom a man to a most painful death. Where a much needed spring or well that men have depended on for years may turn up dry. Where…”
The explorer raised a hand to silence him. “I don’t ques tion your knowledge, Lieutenant. You look to be a man who absorbs information like a drunkard soaks up beer. What I question is your lack of experience and your judgment.”
This time, Bak let his irritation show. “We’ve entered this desert, thinking to find Minnakht. And make no mistake: we will find him alive or dead.”
An incredulous laugh burst from User’s lips. “How were you drawn into that?”
“Commander Inebny, Minnakht’s father, knows my com mandant.” Bak’s eyes flashed anger. He could find no humor in the task. “I was sent out to find the missing man and here we are.”
“You’re obeying an order,” User said, surprising him with a sympathetic look. “That accounts for your presence, but it doesn’t explain your willingness to trust Senna.”
“Let’s just say that Minnakht’s father left him with far less choice than my commandant left me.” Bak eyed the explorer, measuring him. “What of you? What are you doing out here?”
Recognizing his own question thrown back at him, User smiled. “When Minnakht failed to return to Kaine, rumors be gan to fly, hinting that he’d found something of worth. Gold, they were saying, but they could’ve meant anything of value.
Silver, copper, some kind of beautiful and unusual stone.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Anyway, I thought to take a look. To see if I could find what he’d found. If anything.”
So User had also heard the rumor, Bak thought, and had believed it credible enough to follow Minnakht into the desert. Was the tale no more than hopeful thinking, as Senna had indicated, or had User’s years of exploring the desert given him a greater insight? Could the young explorer have spotted something of value that he wished to keep secret?
Could that be the reason he had left Senna behind? “You thought to ease your search by following in his tracks.”
“All the world knows he’s confined his interest to a slab of desert between the southern caravan route and the high mountains, between the wadi we traveled up yesterday and the Eastern Sea. This path we’re taking runs diagonally be tween the southwestern limit of his range and the northeast ern limit.”
Bak could not fault User’s logic. It followed his own.
“Why bring along Wensu and Ani? They seem unlikely trav eling companions to a man bent on searching for treasure.”
“Treasure! I should be so fortunate.” User laughed, at him self this time. “They’d both met Minnakht at one time or an other-I don’t know where or when. Nor do I know what promises he made, if any. All I know is that they assumed he’d take them on his next expedition. Then he turned up missing. They heard of me and asked to come along.”
“I’m surprised you agreed.”
User’s expression clouded. “My wife is ailing, has been for a long time. Physicians are costly. They were both willing to pay a fair sum.”
The man’s pain was obvious and Bak preferred not to probe an open wound. “How well do you know Minnakht?”
“I’ve seldom crossed his path. Other than a knowledge of the Eastern Desert, we’ve had no reason to seek each other’s company. He’s younger than I am, the son of wealth. I grew
to manhood in Gebtu, my father a drover. I first crossed this desert at the age of thirteen, leading a string of donkeys in a caravan transporting turquoise and copper along the southern trail. He came in search of adventure.”
A sensitive subject, Bak could see. “He gets along well with the nomads, I’ve been told.”
“They’re as brothers to him and this desert is his home.”
User scowled, grudgingly admitted, “He grew to love it as I do, and since he’s learned the tongue of the nomads, he knows its ways better. That’s why his disappearance is so mystifying, why many blame Senna.”
“His father said he’s never found anything of value, but here you are, retracing his path on the strength of a rumor.”
“Minnakht knows minerals and stones.” User glanced across the sloping banks of the main flow of the wadi to scan the gray limestone ridges on either side. “He’s wrong if he believes he’ll find gold this far north. The only gold-bearing quartz I’ve come upon that wasn’t long ago exhausted has been some distance to the south. But these desert mountains are full of other valuable minerals and stones. The trick is to find rock of sufficient quality in a quantity worth mining.
“For example…” He picked up several small black and gray chunks of rock and held them out so Bak could see.
Their facets glittered in the bright sunlight. “These are gran ite washed down from the mountains of the central range.
The stone’s beautiful and of value to sculptors, but with so much fine granite available at Abu, where it need be dragged but a short distance for transport downriver, this is worth nothing.”
“Where might Minnakht have vanished?”
User dropped the stones and brushed his hands together to wipe away the dust. “He could be anywhere. Look at the land around you. What you see is barren and rough, but blessed by the gods when compared to the land through which we’ll pass in the next few days. The deeper one travels into this desert, the wilder and more forbidding the land becomes. I myself have journeyed into innumerable places where no man had ever trod before me.”
Bak eyed the barren wadi up which they were trudging and the craggy stone ramparts fading into the haze ahead. How could he hope to find one man in so vast and rugged a land?
Bak stepped off to the side of the track to wait for Wensu to come even with him. The portion of the wadi they had traveled thus far was broad and straight, a long slope drop ping down to the well where they had spent the night. As if solely to provide a background, the escarpment beyond the well, partially cloaked in a pinkish haze, rose as a series of high, steep steps in shades of gray from dark to light.
User had given him much to think about. If he was to be believed, he had not come into the desert in search of great wealth, yet he must have planned this journey as soon as he heard of Minnakht’s disappearance and rumors of gold.
Could anything less than riches have drawn him from a sick wife for whom he clearly cared? A passing donkey brayed, as if jeering at his puzzlement.
“Lieutenant Bak.” Wensu raised a scornful eyebrow. “I thought you were firmly ensconced at the head of this cara van, free of the soft sand that marks this trail.”
Bak fell in beside the young man, who walked alone in front of the drover leading User’s string of donkeys and about twenty paces behind the explorer. Each time his right foot led the left, he tapped the leg with his fly whisk, betray ing an impatience with the monotony. “Commander Inebny,
Minnakht’s father, requested that I search for his son. I need your help.”
“Me? Help you?” Wensu asked, immediately on the de fense. “I know nothing of his disappearance.”
“How did you come to know him?” Bak pretended not to notice the adolescent break in the youth’s voice. Was he young
er than the eighteen years he had initially believed him to be?
“How can I be sure his father sent you?”
Bak made his laugh as cynical as he could. “Why else would I come into this godforsaken land?”
Wensu flushed. “You might’ve come for the gold Min nakht found.”
This spoiled young man, it seemed, had also heard the ru mors. “I’m here solely because Commander Inebny and my commandant have known each other for years and are as close as brothers. If not for that, I’d be taking a long, soothing swim in the river at this very moment.” A movement caught
Bak’s eye far up the wadi, the golden-tan coat of a gazelle.
The graceful creature bounded out of sight as fast as it had entered his line of vision. “Tell me, how did you come to know Minnakht?”
“I met him a few months ago. In a house of pleasure in
Waset.” As memory surfaced, Wensu’s misgivings slipped away and a smile spread across his face. “He was surrounded by young women who were listening to his tales of the desert, accounts of the many wonderful and exciting adven tures he’s had. They sat as silent and still as stones, utterly enthralled.” No less absorbed in his own tale, Wensu forgot the flywhisk he carried and waved off an insect with his free hand. “As was I.”
Bak could picture the youth sitting in the shadows, awed by the more mature man, his way with words and women.
Drawn in by tales of bold and stalwart behavior, of what he interpreted as being a romantic and heroic way of life. “Did you approach him then and there?”
“Oh, no! He went off with one of the women.” Wensu flushed scarlet. “I waited outside in the lane, and when he ap peared later that night, I spoke to him.”
“And…?”
Wensu flung a distracted look Bak’s way. “I told him how much I admired him, of course. How much I’d like to be come a man of the desert as he was. An explorer. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and…” The young man looked away, bit his lip. “He told me I must wait. I must not simply gain in maturity, but I must come to hunger for the desert as a man hungers for a woman.”
