by Lauren Haney
Bak pressed his tunic against his chest, blotting a rivulet of sweat trickling down his breastbone. “He made no promise to take you along on a future expedition?”
“Well, no, but he did imply…” The lie faltered. “No, he made no promise.”
“Why, in the name of the lord Amon, did you travel to
Kaine, thinking he’d take you with him?”
Wensu visibly wilted beneath Bak’s incredulous gaze.
“When I told my father I wanted to become an explorer, he laughed at me.” The young man swallowed, his distress ap parent. “He’s a chief scribe, sir, a lofty and influential man who reports directly to the vizier. He wishes me to become a scribe as he is. He hopes some day that I’ll become a man of note, attaining a rank equal to or higher than his.” A bitter smile touched his lips. “He’d like to see me a vizier.”
“You came anyway,” Bak said, trying not to reveal the sympathy he felt. “You turned your back on your father’s wishes. You ignored Minnakht’s advice.”
“I couldn’t submit to a lifetime of boredom, Lieutenant!”
The response, meant to be defiant, came close to being a wail.
Bak ignored the young man’s anguish. “Wensu, you spoke earlier of the gold Minnakht found. Were you repeating something he told you or were you referring to a rumor you heard?”
“He told the women in the house of pleasure that he was looking for gold.”
“He mentioned no specific discovery?”
“Oh, no. He merely said that was his goal. To find gold or some other precious mineral or stone.” Wensu flashed a guileless smile. “When I arrived in Kaine and heard the ru mor, I assumed he’d found it.”
Wensu’s dream was no different than that of many other young men. Bak doubted, however, that one as selfish and ar rogant as he could ever learn to cope in an uninviting envi ronment like the one User had described. In fact, he could not imagine the young man sneaking away unseen from User’s campsite or creeping up to the stranger and taking his dagger without rousing him. He would have neither the patience nor the ability.
“Tomorrow, Wensu, you should turn around and return to
Kemet. It’s not too late. You can spend the night with us at the next well and go back in the morning. Within two days, you’ll be sitting in a house of pleasure in Kaine.” He did not wish to squash the young man’s pride, but he felt sure User would agree to sending one of his drovers with him to make sure he arrived safe and well. If not, he would send a Medjay.
“No.” A stubborn look descended upon Wensu’s face. “If I can discover a new source of gold or some other valuable metal or stone, I’ll attract the attention of our sovereign and my future will be assured. My father will have to accept me as I am, not as he wishes me to be.”
When Bak walked back along User’s string of donkeys,
Ani was nowhere to be found. Looking worried, the nomad bringing up the rear pointed in the direction from which they had come. There Bak spotted the craftsman, lagging far be hind the caravan.
Reassuring the drover with a nod, Bak left the softer sand trampled by the animals and, reaching firmer sand off to the side, hurried down the wadi. The caravan was slowly ap proaching the gap between the ridge to the north and the limestone mound that had lain off to their right since their trek began. The once broad, dry watercourse had begun to narrow, its walls to steepen.
Too intent to notice Bak’s approach, Ani walked slowly along the base of the northern wall, studying limestone rocks and boulders that had broken away from the hillside or the harder stones that had washed down from the distant moun tain range. He was carrying what looked like a white bag, bulging and heavy.
As Bak approached, the short, stout man picked up a small stone, examined it, and dropped it, scooped up another and studied it. A third stone brought a smile to his lips.
“What are you doing way back here?” The question was rhetorical; Bak could see what the jeweler was doing. “You shouldn’t have allowed the caravan to get so far ahead. What if something happened to you?”
Ani looked up, startled. Recognizing Bak, he greeted him with a beaming smile. “Ah, Lieutenant. I thank the gods you’ve come. Look what I’ve found.” He held out a pinkish stone for Bak to see.
“You mustn’t walk so close to the wadi wall. A viper could be hiding among the rocks.”
Paying no heed, Ani glanced around. His eyes came to rest on a flattish limestone boulder. Glistening white patches marked places where the weathered exterior had broken away when it had tumbled from above. He set what Bak had thought was a bag, actually a large, sweat-stained square of linen, on top of the boulder and spread the corners wide, re vealing dozens of rocks, none larger than a duck’s egg.
“If you have another square of linen… You do, don’t you?” Allowing Bak no time to answer, Ani bubbled on,
“You can carry these while I look for more.”
Bak gave him a stern look. “You can’t be serious.”
Ani blinked, taken aback. “I came into the desert to seek rare and beautiful stones for my workshop. Now you’re try ing to tell me I can’t take them with me?” He stiffened his spine, standing as tall as he could. “I can and I will.”
“Who’s going to carry them?”
“We’ve brought along plenty of donkeys.”
“Those donkeys are carrying water and supplies, Ani.”
The craftsman stood quite still, his face revealing one emotion after another: realization, dismay, and a reluctant acceptance. “Can I not collect a few?” he asked in a meek voice.
Bak eyed the bits of rock displayed on the linen. Most looked to his untrained eye like the granite User had showed him. “Are any of these stones exceptional?”
“They’re wonderful specimens, but…” Looking pained,
Ani shook his head. “Other than one or two, no.”
“If you’ll pick out those two, we can be on our way. We must catch up with the caravan.”
Faced with the inevitable, Ani wasted no time. With an ex pert eye, he searched through the rocks until he found three he deemed worthy of saving. Openly saddened by the sacri fice, he pulled the square of linen from beneath the rest and left them lying on the boulder. An offering to the lord Set, god of chaos and the desert.
Bak strode up the wadi at a good fast pace, grateful that
Ani had accepted reality so quickly. The much shorter man practically ran along beside him. They were a hundred or so paces behind the donkeys when Bak noticed Ani’s labored breathing and how red his face had become. He stopped, handed over his waterbag. “You should never stray far from the caravan, but lest you forget and wander away, you must always carry water with you.”
Smiling sheepishly, the jeweler drank, allowed the water to settle in his stomach, drank a second time. Bak reclaimed the bag, pulled free the dusty square of linen tucked beneath Ani’s belt, dropped the rocks into the jeweler’s hand, and trickled water on the fabric. “Wipe your face and neck.”
With a grateful smile, Ani obeyed, smearing dirt across his cheek. “I wasn’t thinking, Lieutenant. About the rocks, I mean. Minnakht assured me that there were many stones in the Eastern Desert that would enhance the jewelry I make.
He said nothing about the practicalities of transporting them.”
Bak took a drink of the tepid water. “When did you last speak with him?”
“I talked to him only the once. Eight months ago? Ten?
I’ve no concept of time.” Ani ran the damp cloth around the back of his neck. “He showed me a stone, an amazingly clear crystal. It came, he said, from this desert. It was lovely, per fection itself. He also showed me a chunk of turquoise a no mad had given him in trade. I told him I dreamed of traveling across the Eastern Sea to the mountain of turquoise, and he said that he, too, wished to see those mines.”
“Did he offer to take you with him on one of his expedi tions?”
“Not in so many words, but when I told him I dreamed of seeing the stones in
their natural state, of picking and choos ing myself rather than depending upon someone else’s judg ment as to which is the best and most beautiful, he said he thought we’d make a good team. Between his understanding of this desert and my knowledge of fine jewelry and stones, we’d surely find things overlooked by other men.”
Noting that Ani’s breathing had slowed and his color had almost returned to normal, Bak signaled that they move on.
“Did he show you any stones other than the turquoise and the crystal?”
“Carnelian, jasper, milky quartz. Attractive pieces, but of less value.”
“According to his father, he left Kemet to explore this desert about nine months ago, returned in three months, and went off two months later never to return. Why didn’t you travel with him on one of those journeys?”
“I was afraid.” Ani gave Bak a sheepish look. “Yes, afraid. A thing I’m not proud of, but true.” He looked down at himself.
“Look at me. Do I have the appearance of a man accustomed to hardships? Do I have the demeanor of a brave and hardy soul?”
Bak grinned. He liked a man with no illusions about him self. “What finally brought you here?”
“Desire overcame fear.”
After Wensu’s blustering, Ani’s modest admissions were refreshing. “You must’ve been disappointed when you heard that Minnakht never returned from his latest expedition.”
“I can’t tell you how disturbed I was.” Ani looked up the wadi toward the caravan. “We can walk a bit faster if you like. I feel better now.” As if he had not interrupted the thought, he went on, “I’d spent months convincing myself I could do this, and convincing my overseer that I should.
What did I find when I reached Kaine? The man who’d urged me to come had vanished!”
“You must’ve heard the rumor that he’d found gold.”
“I’m not a man who believes all I hear, Lieutenant, but when I heard that tale, my blood ran cold.”
“You feared his life was at risk?”
“I toil in a workshop well-supplied with precious metals and stones. Even I am not immune to their value. I know from experience how quickly men’s hearts can become in flamed by dreams of wealth.”
Bak understood. True or not, the rumor had put Min nakht’s life in jeopardy. “Did you and Wensu approach User together, or did you individually propose to travel with him?”
“We were in a house of pleasure, each of us alone, trying to decide what to do. We overheard a man speak of User, calling him witless for entering the desert after Minnakht had so recently failed to return. Foolhardy they called him, to travel alone with a single nomad to keep him company-as
Minnakht had. Wensu asked where User could be found, and
I inquired as to his appearance. We realized we were both af ter the same thing: a reliable man to take us into the desert.”
Bak recalled Senna saying that User was not entirely to be trusted. “Did you inquire about his reputation?”
“Several men-merchants, drovers, men selling don keys-vouched for his integrity and his knowledge of the desert.” Ani looked at Bak, frowned. “Have you heard any thing to his discredit, Lieutenant?”
Bak shook his head. He saw no reason to worry the jew eler. User might be the untrustworthy man Senna thought him. Or Senna might be as unreliable as User believed. Then again, both could be right-or wrong. As for Ani himself, he was a child in this harsh land, one whose every footstep would be torturous to him. Bak was willing to wager a jar of the finest northern wine that this man was as innocent in thought and deed as he appeared.
“I’ll say to you what I said to Wensu. If you wish to abandon this adventure of yours and return to Kemet, it’s not too late to do so. Kaine is two days’ trek away. You can go on with us to the well, stay through the night, and turn back tomorrow.”
“No, no, no.” Ani’s face held the same stubborn look
Wensu’s had. “I’m here, Lieutenant, and here I stay.”
The caravan had come to a halt by the time Bak and Ani caught up. Leaving the craftsman with User’s party, Bak hur ried forward, seeking a reason. Not a speck of shade was to be seen anywhere. The heat of the sun, confined within the tall, steep hillsides, was merciless. This was not a place to rest.
He found, near the head of his string of donkeys, Minmose holding the halter of a stocky black animal while Rona probed a front hoof with a pair of bronze tweezers. Psuro looked on.
“She’s gone lame, sir,” the sergeant explained.
“Ah, here it is.” Rona screwed up his mouth in concentra 70
Lauren Haney tion while he manipulated the tweezers. The donkey twitched, tried to pull away. The Medjay clamped the tweez ers tight and pulled out a small stone. As he released the hoof, Minmose let go of the halter. The animal shook its head and blew, expressing its contempt for such treatment.
They’d no sooner started forward than Nebre and Kaha made their careful way down a steep cut in the rocky slope to the right and walked toward them. Perspiration poured from the men; their tunics were stained with sweat and dust. Each man carried on his shoulder a bow and quiver filled with ar rows. Kaha carried a goatskin waterbag.
“You’ve been gone a long time,” Bak said, greeting them with a smile.
“This land is endless.” Nebre pulled bow and quiver from his shoulder and handed it to Minmose. “There’s much to see. All different but alike.”
“This is truly a barren land,” Kaha said. “How the nomads find sustenance for themselves and their flocks, I’ll never know.”
“Did you see any sign of the people who were camped near the well last night?” Bak asked.
“No, sir.” Nebre slipped his tunic over his head and shook the dust from it. “They’ve disappeared without a trace. I’ve a feeling they left the wadi long ago, probably not far from the well where we spent the night.”
Sneezing, Kaha backed away from the cloud Nebre had created. “Twice we saw a man on a distant hillside. Like us, he carried a bow and quiver. He was watching this caravan.”
“At first we thought him to be a nomad shepherd, moving his flocks and family through this area. Or a man hunting ibex or gazelle.” Nebre slipped his arms through the sleeves of his tunic and pulled it down over his head. “The second time we saw him, we went to the place where last he’d been.”
“We found the print of a sandal, sir,” Kaha said. “It matched the one I saw on the hillside north of Kaine.”
Chapter 5
The sun beat down with the ferocity of a wounded lion. Short gusts of wind failed to lift the coarse granules of sand on the wadi floor, but carried a fine dust unseen at close hand. The land around them shimmered in the heat, while the distant ridges faded into a dirty yellowish haze. Bak and the others drank frequently, consuming the tepid water from their wa terbags, quenching a never-ending thirst. Sweat poured from their bodies, staining tunics and kilts.
The donkeys plodded forward, hooves now and again striking a stone, tails swishing away the flies. Bak walked for a while with Psuro, telling the sergeant what he had learned from the men with whom he had talked. He spoke softly, pre ferring that Senna not hear what he had to say.
“I’m certain Senna didn’t slay the man at the well. We’d not yet arrived when he lost his life.” Bak wiped the sweat from his face with the tail of his tunic. “But until we’re certain we can trust him, I’d rather we keep our suspicions to our selves.”
“You’ve not told him we’re policemen, I’ve noticed. Nor have you told anyone else.”
“Initially, I didn’t want him to know until he’d proven himself reliable. Now, with our circumstances altered and a dead man left behind, I’m convinced the decision was a wise one. Ofttimes people grow defensive with the police. They’re more apt to speak openly to soldiers. We’ll enlighten no one, at least for the present.”
As the wadi walls grew higher where the ancient water way had sliced a path through the hills, Bak walked back along the caravan. The donkeys loo
ked half asleep, as if each followed the one in front by instinct rather than thought.
From time to time one would shake its head to throw off a fly or pull back its lips for a soft whicker. He scratched each an imal between the ears as he passed it by, grateful for the help it gave to man, the patience it exercised in the most trying of conditions.
Midway in User’s widespread string of men and animals, he stopped to speak with Amonmose, who was trudging along beside a donkey laden with water jars. He carried a long staff as Senna did, and probed the sand in front of him self and his equine companion. Other than ruddy cheeks and a shift dripping with sweat, he seemed no more troubled by the heat than the other men, further convincing Bak that much of his weight was muscle rather than fat.
“You appear to be holding up well in this heat, Lieu tenant,” he said, as if reading Bak’s thought and returning it.
“I must admit I prefer green fields and the northerly breezes along the river,” Bak said with a smile.
Amonmose chuckled. “I’ve already begun to suspect I’ll find the southern route to the Eastern Sea preferable to this path.”
“According to Senna, we’ll reach the next well by midday.
After we leave it behind, we’ve two days ahead of us without water, then another well and two or three more dry days.”
“User told us.” Amonmose licked his lips, whether to moisten them or because he was concerned about the jour ney, Bak could not tell. “He also said the landscape will grow rougher each day.”
“If your decision is nearly made, why not turn back? It’s not too late.” Bak spoke with scant conviction; he doubted
Amonmose would ever give up a task once begun. Certainly not this one. If Ani and Wensu, as green as they were, would not return to Kaine, neither would the more experienced man.
“Minnakht said this way was more direct, and he should know. I’ll stay to the end.”
“Our sovereign’s caravans have traveled the southern route for many generations,” Bak pointed out.
