by Gary Gygax
"Not at all. I left that to another, knowing that you'd spot him, lose him, and then head for wherever you decided you needed to go."
"But ... I see. It was that evident I would seek out Matiseth Chemres?"
"It seemed the most likely prospect, so I staked out the temple and have been near to you ever since."
"Luckily for me," the wizard-priest said as he took Tuhorus by the arm. "Come along with me to the Reedfields. I have need of some strong spirits—excellent Neustrian brandy. Join me, please. I think you will also enjoy learning about what I discovered when I paid a call to the high priest this night." Saying nothing, but lending assistance to the battered priest-wizard, Chief Inspector Tuhorus agreed.
After seating themselves comfortably, the two detectives savored the liquor for a time before either spoke. "This fiery stuff might well finish me for further work tonight," the policeman said, as he rubbed his tired eyes and set aside the empty glass.
"Not after I tell you what I have found," the magister commented. Inhetep then related what had occurred, both in his magickal examination of the high priest's chambers and what happened thereafter.
"He has the same inordinate interest in geography as was evidenced by the maps on Ram-f-amsu's walls, so he and the governor shared that quirk, shall we say. Not anything important without further support, I'll admit."
Tuhorus urged him on. "And you found more?"
"Yes. Tomorrow I think you should accompany me for another little visit. There are some books in Matiseth Chemres' library which aren't quite what they seem."
"No?"
"No. Their covers purport to deal with the Sudd and navigation of the upper branches of the Nylle, but inside the good ecclesiastic has extensive notes on an organization and conspiracy. It seems that the dead prince and governor of your sepat, Tuhorus, was plotting insurrection."
"You're jesting! There is no hope of changing dynasties, even Pharaohs of our current house. Not with—"
"Ram-f-amsu knew that. The efforts were along another line entirely. He meant to sunder Lower AEgypt from the kingdom, making it a separate and sovereign state, so to speak. We'll find out more from an examination of the palace and Matiseth's own records. The prince suggested that Set might become the chief deity of the new kingdom. Matiseth went along, of course. Typical of any of Set's followers, ecclesiastic or secular."
"Why didn't you arrest him on the spot, Inhetep?"
"That would certainly send up a warning flare to all the rest involved. I have reason to believe this is a massive conspiracy. I tried to entice Chemres into cooperating, but he is adamantly bent on his own dark course." He stopped, poured a little more brandy into both glasses, then resumed. "I'll give us both a draught of dweomered stimulant soon, so enjoy the moment. The stuff to follow makes one feel superb, but it tastes as if it were brewed from bat droppings and horse sweat, only worse—just how you'll feel an hour after it wears off too, unless you are asleep by then."
"The governor's palace?"
Inhetep nodded. "We'll need to search that place from top to bottom for evidence of the plot. Then we go to Chemres and confront him. The ambitious knave must have sent those two muggers to kill me so that his secret would be hidden."
Tuhorus disagreed. "Those were no men of his, magister. Didn't you hear them speak?"
"No," the tall priest-wizard admitted. "I was too busy trying to save my skin. What makes you so sure they weren't Matiseth's men?"
"One was using Azirian castings, and they spoke in Mongolian or Turkic. I'd wager one was a shaman, the other a warrior of the sort dedicated to his calling by devotion."
The green eyes fastened onto those of the unpreposing inspector. "You demonstrate unusual knowledge for a city policeman, Tuhorus. I'd like to know how it is you are so sure of that."
"Because, ur-kheri-heb, I happen to have spent twelve years in the study of barbaric folk and primitive magick—as well as herbalism, toxicology, and the rest that goes with them. In the process, I've managed to become a fair practical dweomercraefter myself."
Inhetep considered that a moment. In a city such as On, and in his line of work, Tuhorus would indeed benefit from a working knowledge of the sorts of heka used by self-made hedge magicians, partial practitioners, and the others who made the slums of the community their home. The man had little natural power, but by hard work and perseverance, it was possible to manage a considerable amount of lesser magicks. Such ability would also explain Tuhorus' position in the ranks of the Metropolitan Prefecture—invaluable but feared, so that he would remain always as an operative and never as the head of the force. The magister thought it likely that he had arisen from the lower class to hold an important position. That explained his vociferous dislike for Inhetep: a noble, wealthy, and well-educated ur-kheri-heb-tepi—all that the chief inspector was not. Setne gave the fellow a warm smile and nodded. His voice held admiration as he said, "Good. Together, Tuhorus, I think we shall be able to conclude this case swiftly—your case, now. I am here to assist."
MURDER IN SET'S HOUSE
Tuhorus wanted to tell the priest-wizard to save his favors, but then he thought better of it. The Utchat-neb had been most sincere. It was his way of thanking the police official. More than that, it was also Inhetep's way of telling him that he had confidence in his ability as a detective. Even as he considered all that, the tall man had produced the promised elixir, and Tuhorus quaffed his little portion. It tasted worse than its description. "Yetch!"
"I warned you," the ur-kheri-heb drawled with an ill-concealed grin. "Shall we go?"
Perhaps he was a little older than the wizard-priest, Tuhorus couldn't tell for sure. The hard life the chief inspector had led gave him the appearance of being older than his forty-seven years, while Inhetep seemed ageless—-or at least of indeterminate years. It took all his skill to note that Inhetep was well above his late thirties or early forties. Tuhorus glanced in a mirror and saw his own face looking younger and fresher than it had in years. "Magister, is your potion one of youth? Or are my eyes playing tricks on me?"
"Neither. The stimulant is possibly the cause of some of what you see, but the stuff hasn't any real effect on your age, Tuhorus. Perhaps it is your own inner excitement for this case. . . ."
Tuhorus mentally resolved to retain the attitude if the result would be so salubrious. He felt more than merely refreshed. "There are a couple of my men here—one inside, the other watching the street. I'll send the first officer to headquarters to get a team into the palace. Mupahkat, the one outside, can accompany us immediately."
The ur-kheri-heb agreed with him. "Even with the assistance of the governor's guards, Chief Inspector, I think we'll have hours of work ahead. If Ram-f-amsu used the same techniques as the high priest, all of the work will be manual, too."
Without further discussion, the two left Inhetep's chambers, the metropolitan detective leading. In truth, the policeman hated to follow Inhetep because the shaven pate was so far above his eye level. Tuhorus was of average everything, including his five-feet-nine-inch sole to crown measurement. Could the priest-wizard's success be due to his commanding stature and self-confident presence? No—or, at least, not in the main. The man obviously had intelligence, ability, and a desire to achieve. He was not, however, infallible, as proved by the fact that Tuhorus had had to rescue him from the pair of attackers. He felt strongly that if he used his own abilities and common sense, and watched what Magister Inhetep did, he could solve the case before the priest-wizard did. After sending Mupahkat ahead to secure the palace, the chief inspector looked up at Inhetep. "The attack by those two thugs troubles me, Magister. There are factors of it which bode difficult times ahead."
"Matiseth Chemres couldn't have been behind it, nor could . . . any other I can think of."
Why had the priest-wizard trailed off his words and hastily substituted "other" in place of what he had been about to say? Inhetep had some information he was keeping to himself still, and although Tuhorus no longer doubt
ed that the resolution of the matter would be one which was credited to himself and the prefecture, secrecy on the ur-kheri-heb's part made the policeman uneasy. Was this going to end up as a cover-up if the noble ex-secret agent had his way? After all, the prince was not only a member of an ancient noble house but also related distantly to the royal family. Inhetep admitted he had attempted to have the aristocratic high priest cooperate in return for immunity. The reason for Matiseth Chemres' refusal might be that he didn't fear prosecution in any event. No wonder, for unless the kingdom or lives of nobility or their like were threatened by the governor's actions, only commoners needed to fear. Ram-f-amsu's death might end the affair unless there were factors which still applied to the nation, the royal house, or those of high standing.
"You have considered the matter of how they identified you?"
"Hmmm . . ." Inhetep said vaguely, looking at Tuhorus as if searching the man's mind for his thoughts, even though the Scarab of Saa and the amulet of the same entity worn by all inspectors and detectives protected from such intrusion. "A mere mugging doesn't seem very probable, does it? That appears to confirm your assessment that one was a shaman, Inspector. Still, there remains the question of how they knew I would be on that street."
Tuhorus had no doubts, and his pointed remark was meant to pique the wizard-priest's interest in what the inspector knew. "Come on, Inhetep! It's rather plain, as well you know. You are being watched by another agency—one definitely opposed to you, me, and the law! That enemy would have succeeded too, had it not been for my particular precautions and perhaps a smile from Old Bes."
It was now the magister's turn to ponder a bit. Tuhorus' mention of the deity, Bes, gave him some considerable pause too, for the dwarven god was most honored in that part of Afrik which was home to the black race, the race of the Dahlikil and Yakeem, albeit the people who rejected the ^Egyptian pantheon and honored instead the deities of Babylon. Was it mere chance? Or did the police official know about the assassin? But the two lurking killers had been from the East. Tuhorus had suggested that they spoke a language of Central Azir or possibly an Aryan tongue such as that of the Farzians, Parthian, or Hyrkanians used. Setae tried a new tack: "Innu is now a virtual sister city of this one, Chief Inspector. Does your department work closely with that of Innu?"
That certainly laid a scent for him to follow, and Tuhorus made a mental note to do so even as he said, "No, sir, not typically. We would be pleased to do so, and I believe that Governor Prince Harphosh had requested such exchange. Ram-f-amsu might have been the obstacle, but that remains to be seen. Why do you ask?"
"No reason in particular," the ur-kheri heb responded. "Tuhorus, you are a bulldog and a bloodhound, aren't you?!"
Wishing he were also a grayhound, the policeman responded in kind. "And you Utchat-neb, are a mixture of less common sort—say, a sphinx and a fox? Yes, I think that's aptly put."
They were near the governor's palace now. Inhetep felt that his mention of Innu would put the chief inspector onto the scent of the Khazars. It just might or might not have some application to this case, but it would keep Tuhorus busy for some time. The magister had no intention of allowing the policeman to meddle in the matter of Yakeem. The assassin's role in this affair was uncertain, but Inhetep was sure that if there was a connection the matter was one of national significance. The local authorities might or might not need to be informed. Perhaps Pharaoh would be the one to decide that after the priest-wizard had uncovered the truth and made his report. "Well, perhaps you are right, Chief Inspector. The Metropolitan Prefecture requires one sort of policeman, the Utchatu another—although they would be happy to have many such as you there, I assure you."
Inhetep referred to the state's secret police arm, the Utchatu, of course. Tuhorus had met a few of its agents in the course of his years of detective work. He hadn't liked any of them. Inhetep could be an exception, but that remained to be seen. For now, Tuhorus was content to place the ur-kheri-heb slightly above the others in terms of humanity and ability, for he was certainly less condescending and more clever than the dozen or so others of his sort the policeman had encountered previously. "Tell them we can use their talents here," quipped Tuhorus. "And speaking of stolid effort, I think we must seal the whole of the wing used by the dead governor and search it inch by inch."
"They must be readying for that now, Tuhorus. From the look of it, I'd say that every light in the whole palace is ablaze."
One look at the sky ahead was sufficient for Tuhorus to observe what the magister meant. There was a sudden brightness which limned the row of buildings between them and the governor's compound. Then a clangor sounded. "Not lights, fire!" As he shouted, the policeman broke into a run, and in seconds the two rounded the corner of the street to where the plaza surrounded the group of buildings which was the heart of the sepat and city of On. "By the gods, Inhetep, the place is an inferno!"
It was certainly not a fire which would be put out easily or quickly. Inhetep saw that the palace was the center of the conflagration. Men were now pouring into the plaza, coming to assist with the fight against the consuming flames. "So much for our search, Inspector," he shouted to Tuhorus over the growing din of fire and voices and alarms. "I can assist here, but you'll be of little use. Assemble a squad of your men and get over to the Temple of Set!"
"All right, but should I protect Chemres or arrest him?"
"Both. I think that he must know who did this, and because of that, he's likely the next target for removal."
Tuhorus watched for the space of several heartbeats as the long-legged ur-kheri-heb dashed toward the gates of the palace. His mag-ickal prowess might be of the highest sort, but the police official thought more than priestcraeft and wizardry would be needed to save anything within the walls of that square. Perhaps an incandescent salamander from the elemental Plane of Fire had been conjured into the governor's palace to set it blazing so ferociously, and Inhetep could without difficulty send such an elemental being away. Even so, the damage was done. No heka would do much to extinguish the flames now. That would require an inundation of the Nylle itself! "Right," he said sharply to himself. There was nothing for him to do here, and Inhetep's thoughts regarding the high priest were on the mark ... or very near it, anyway. Tuhorus wasn't quite so certain as the ur-kheri-heb seemed to be about Matiseth Chemres' involvement in the arson of the palace. Perhaps Inhetep underestimated the ambition and ability of the high priest. His intellect too, for that matter, because the former captain and detective of the secret police, hadn't mentioned the possibility of Matiseth having noticed discovery of the incriminating works. Could it be that the high priest had set this fire? If so, Tuhorus knew that he'd find nothing in Chemres' library when he got there. But I'll never get there standing here playing "what ifs." Time to move! he thought to himself.
Several watchmen of the prefecture patrol were nearby. "You! You as well!" Tuhorus shouted as he grabbed first one then another of them. "Chief Inspector Tuhorus, acting deputy prefect. Never mind the trouble here. Come with me now," he commanded. Both of the policemen obeyed, and the three set off at a trot, Tuhorus leading. A few streets distant, he directed one to the prefecture building, instructing the fellow to round up a half-dozen other patrolmen and bring them immediately to the Temple of Set. Then he and the remaining patrolman hurried on.
"What's the trouble, Deputy Prefect?" the fellow panted as he ran alongside. Tuhorus, despite advancing years, was athletic and an able runner.
"You have a right to ask," the chief inspector replied. "This might be a very dangerous situation we're heading into—I'm not sure. We're going to place Hem-neter-tepi Matiseth Chemres under protective custody and house arrest for suspicion of complicity in the matter of the fire now raging at the palace."
"You're having me on!"
"Do I look like a man who would jest about such a matter, patrolman?"
"No, sir!" The one look he got from Tuhorus convinced him that this wasn't some fanciful prank. "But how
can the two of us arrest the Great Seer of Set? Why, he could invoke heka to blast us—"
Tuhorus cut him off. "Have your sword ready at all times—that's the rule in such cases. Don't be overly concerned though, patrolman. I didn't survive all these years because I avoided those able to wield magick."
"Right, sir," the fellow panted, trying to look self-confident. He felt highly nervous despite his superior's reassurance, and as they neared the dark temple he grasped his weapon's hilt for comfort. What made this Tuhorus fellow so confident? He wasn't some sort of spellbinder himself, was he? As he considered that, the patrolman shot a surreptitious glance at his companion, trying to assess Tuhorus' potential, wondering if he could recall hearing anything about him which would give a clue as to his abilities. He forgot all that as they came to their destination.
The entrance to the temple was dark and barred by a grill. Considering the hour, that was no surprise. The young policeman jerked his short blade free of its scabbard as Tuhorus yanked heavily on the bell chain calling, "Entry! This is the Prefecture!" In about a minute, a bleary-eyed servant came into view, a feebly flickering oil lamp held before him, shuffling with hesitant steps towards the barred portal.
"Who's that?" he asked, his voice between fear and irritation.
"Come on, you! Open this gate in the name of the Metropolitan Prefecture!" the patrolman cried, using his best tone of authority.
Tuhorus repressed a smile. The servant was probably a failed cleric, one who had aspired toward becoming an attendant "father" and proved so unable that now he had night porter duty. When he heard the young policeman's order, the now-awake fellow stayed well back from the bars, demanding to see some identification from the two late-night visitors requiring admittance. Without answering in words, Tuhorus produced a flat case of copper and bronze. It opened to reveal the cartouche of On's prefecture on one side, his own name and rank in hieroglyphic engraving on the other. He thrust the open case through the gate's bars. "Chief Inspector Tuhorus serving as deputy prefect, uab-hem. Quickly now, man. Let us in!"
