by Gary Gygax
"What do you suppose all this is for?" Xonaapi asked as they peered into the dark chamber.
"You tell me. To whom were you to be given?"
"He would never say, although once he said a name by accident, I think. He wouldn't repeat it, but I remember it was Yarban sounding—or Shamish, perhaps. I'm not sure."
The spell-created lighting of the area in which the girl had been confined was absent in the arsenal they had entered, but Inhetep used his ankh for illumination. Xonaapi asked how he could make the gold talisman shed light, but Inhetep only told her that the device was imbued with a heka. "Think of it as a sort of lamp, and by speaking a word I make it bright as would lighting the wick of a lamp." That was more than sufficient for her.
There were enough arms in the palace to equip several thousand troops. Fine mail, steel helmets, bows, barrels of arrows, spears, shields, swords, and axes. The magister was tempted to take along a sampling but decided against it, for they had yet to find another means of egress from the storeroom. After a couple of minutes, though, he saw a wide place which could only be a gateway. It proved to be concealed on its other side, but here it was easy to open. He and Xonaapi then entered the regular cellars of the palace, and before long the wizard-priest had located a tunnel which ran straight and led away from the subterranean rooms.
"It's chilly and nasty there," the girl said as Inhetep started to follow the passage.
"But it will take us safely out of this place, I think," he responded, so Xonaapi followed him eagerly.
By the time they found the end of the tunnel and climbed up into the fresh air again, the sun was rising and only whitish smoke rose from the palace compound, which was a quarter-mile or so distant. "How did we get so far from Ram-f-amsu's?" she said when Inhetep pointed out the smoke and identified the locale for her.
"By the escape passage meant for use by the governor and his household in case of trouble," the magister told her. "They've snuffed the blaze all right, so there's no sense in returning there now. Inspector Tuhorus and his men can handle the search of the remains. They are bound to show up here soon. Come with me, Xonaapi. We'll go to the Reedfields for some food and a few hours of sleep, perhaps."
"Yes, Setne," she said in a tired voice. "I am hungry and tired from all this excitement. Do you always live so dangerous a life?"
"Coming from one captured by pirates and sold as a slave, Xonaapi, I am disinclined to accept that at face value," the tall Egyptian retorted. "Still, perhaps some of what I do might prove amusing to you. I'll tell you about it in the comfort of my lodgings."
8
UNEXPECTED COMPLICATIONS
Setne found Xonaapi to be a fascinating combination of naivete and sophistication. Inhetep supposed it was her tender years and sheltered upbringing, for at eighteen the girl had had little in the way of exposure to the world. The brief stay in the free Grecian city of Sinope on the shores of the Mare Ostrum had been her only experience outside the cloistered women's quarters of her father's vast estates in the kaganate. Khazars were not known for their acceptance of women as anything other than property, and although Xonaapi had been the only child, her father had treated the girl little differently than if he had many sons and daughters. That was why she was so philosophical about being made a slave. "After all, I would have been sold for a fat bride price to some ugly, old lord or other by my father," she said to the magister. "How could I be terribly upset by the business with the pirates and the slave dealer? Neither treated me badly at all, for a virgin is worth ten times the price of an ordinary woman . . . one who has been defiled."
That made the wizard-priest smile. "Not so in more civilized lands, Xonaapi, but you'll be in a position to find that out for yourself." He went on to explain that she was certainly a free and equal person now, and that under the circumstances, the government would grant her Egyptian citizenship if she so desired. "If for no other reason than because upon the death of a governor any slaves he acquired personally while in office are manumitted, whether dwelling in the government palace or on the dead man's properties elsewhere. That prevents abuses," said the magister with a wink.
After sharing a light breakfast with his temporary charge, Inhetep went to bathe and ready for sleep. He came back to find the girl lying nude in his bed. "I suppose I must sleep on one of the divans," he said hurriedly.
"Oh, no. Please stay here and be comfortable, Setne Inhetep. This bed is very big, and there's plenty of room for both of us."
Inhetep lay down on the far edge, but Xonaapi was having none of that. She moved so that she was next to him; her right breast rested on his arm as she stroked his cheek with delicate, long-nailed fingers. "See how white my skin looks against your own—even my nipple appears a pale rose," she giggled. "My hair is very like your coppery complexion, though, only a bit more golden," she added as she reached back and spread some of her long tresses across his chest so as to compare the two colors.
"Go to sleep, girl," Inhetep grated, clenching his teeth and trying not to react in other ways. "This isn't the time for this sort of thing."
"What sort of thing do you mean? Show me, please! I want to thank you for rescuing me," Xonaapi told him urgently. "You are the most handsome man I've ever met—so smart and . . . and . . ."
"And certainly older than your father, Xo-nappi." It hurt him to say it, but some things had to be. Besides, the effects of the dweomered stimulant were nearly gone, and the magister was feeling drained and headachy. "You are irresistibly lovely, and I very much desire to make love to you, dear girl. For now, however, let's just say goodnight. As you have discerned, I am an important man, one of Pharaoh's own agents— that shall be our secret! I'm on a special assignment, more or less, having to do with the death of Prince Ram-f-amsu. You and I both need our rest, for soon I'll be back on the job, and I'll need your help then as now. How does that sound? Agreed?"
Xonappi pouted a little, but then pecked Inhetep on the cheek and rolled over. "I suppose. But I don't understand men at all! Especially you, Magister Setne Inhetep."
"I don't think I do, either, girl—and women are an even greater mystery to me." He then pretended to be asleep, pretense yielding to actuality in but moments.
A pounding sound awakened him. Inhetep sat upright with a start, looking around in befuddle-ment, his mind still fuzzy with sleep. The sound came again, and with it. a voice: "Open up, Inhetep! It's Tuhorus!" That enabled the ur-kheri-heb to recall just where he was and what had happened. Flinging on a cotton robe, Setne peered out of the shuttered window before answering the door. He saw from the sun that it was early-afternoon. Xonaapi remained undisturbed, sleeping soundly, beautiful and almost childlike as she lay there only partially covered by the pale sheet. Inhetep dragged his eyes from her form, left the bedroom, shut the connecting door, and went to the entrance of the suite where the policeman had resumed his hammering.
"Stop that! I'm coming," the magister cried irritably. "You'll disturb the whole inn with your racket." He was opening the door as he said those last words.
"Well, it seemed I had to awaken the dead," Tuhorus rejoined as he came in and sat down. He looked at the priest-wizard for a long moment. "You appear to be fine, well-rested even."
"Of course I am," Inhetep snapped, seating himself in a chair opposite that of the policeman's. "Why shouldn't I be?"
"They have you reported as dead—killed in the palace fire."
"They are grossly mistaken," Inhetep said without humor. "I need some tea!"
Just then there was another knocking at the entry, only this was a subdued tapping. "Come in," called Tuhorus preemptively. The door swung inward, and in a moment a serving boy entered with a big tray of hammered brass which was loaded with fresh fruit, juices, little loaves of bread and sweet cakes, and tea. There was also a selection of cheese, cold meat, and a smoked fish which appeared via the same servitor after the initial tray had been placed on a table and a second trip outside was accomplished. Setne eyed the whole process without
speaking, his expression speaking loudly enough to convey all.
"I anticipated your desire, Magister—-and I want some lunch myself!"
"Is this charged to me?"
"Certainly."
Inhetep grumbled but gave the boy some small coins. Then he took a glass of hot and sugary minted tea, drank, and sat back. He watched Tuhorus eating and grimaced. "Ugh! So early in the morning! How can you?"
"It's well after midday, Inhetep."
"For you, perhaps, but as far as I'm concerned it's the crack of dawn. What's this business about me being dead?"
Tuhorus swallowed a mouthful of the fish, bit into a wedge of cheese, picked up some grapes to compliment the food, and replied, "You were seen running into the fire. It was noon before I thought that you might not be a blackened corpse in those ruins but rather sleeping peacefully back here! Nobody saw you leave, but when your body hadn't turned up by then, I figured you probably used heka to escape that inferno."
"More or less," the magister admitted noncom-mittally. "What made you come here?"
"Where else would you likely be? I had to get some sleep myself, although I could spare only a few hours for that. I guess you must have had a full-"
He chopped off his words as Xonaapi appeared suddenly from the bedroom. "I heard voices and smelled breakfast, Setne Inhetep," she called happily as she danced into the room. Then she saw Tuhorus sitting there and retreated hastily again. She had been naked, of course.
"Let me revise my estimate, Magister," the policeman said with an expression which was somewhere between admiration and disapproval but came close to looking like a smirk. "That is perhaps the loveliest sight I've seen in a very long career as a detective. May I inquire how and where . . . ?" Tuhorus allowed the query to trail off as his smirk grew broader.
Setne closed his eyes, grimaced, then opened them again and swallowed more tea. "Haaaa . . ." he sighed. "How should I begin?"
"No need to explain to me, Magister. It was merely a conversational question."
"Godsdamnit," he said without force. "Do stop playing games with me, Tuhorus. This isn't at all what you think, but I do need to explain; there is a very good reason too, although she is absent at this time."
"Another woman? I know you aren't married. No need to worry. I happen to be the soul of discretion."
"Listen to me, you ape! I rescued this girl—a mere child—from the palace. She was confined in a dungeon set up by that dastard, Ram-f-amsu."
"The latter I can believe," Tuhorus allowed. "Having ... ah ... seen the lady, however, I must take exception to the former claim. A child? Really, Inhetep!"
"Bah! She's but eighteen."
"Every inch of her! It must be your prowess as an ur-kheri-heb," he said with a taunting note in his voice which annoyed Inhetep greatly. Before the magister could say anything in reply, though, Xonaapi reappeared, this time demurely draped in the silken sheet she had turned into a toga.
"I'm sorry about bursting in without—"
"Please!" the priest-wizard interrupted. "Don't say anything more on the subject of nakedness!"
"—knocking," Xonaapi finished innocently.
Tuhorus actually guffawed. Inhetep poured tea for himself and handed another freshly filled glass to the girl. "Help yourself to whatever else you like. I can order anything you wish if this isn't to your liking."
"It is exactly what I want," she said with a smile directed at both men. Then she concentrated on the policeman. "I didn't know Magister Setne Inhetep had company. I thought the other voice was the servant bringing us breakfast— even though it is afternoon. I'm Xonaapi. Who are you?"
The detective introduced himself and asked her where she had met Inhetep. Xonaapi was candid in her recounting of how the ur-kheri-heb of Thoth had literally fallen from the sky into her prison and then found a means out of the place. "You and I must speak at length about how the former governor kept you trapped there," Tuhorus told her. With that, though, he knew that there was nothing more to be learned from her, so Tuhorus turned his attention to Inhetep once again, now serious and eager. "What did you learn, Utchat-neb?"
"The prince seemed to have a passion for collecting arms. I discovered a store of weapons and equipment for a regiment there. He had a secret place for all his illicit property. It'll be no feat getting there later. Coupled with what Xonaapi told me about why Ram-f-amsu bought her and kept her hidden, I think I'm very close to concluding things."
"Please give me written details at your convenience," Tuhorus asked politely. "Yet there is a matter which might change your mind."
"Is there? Pray tell me, Inspector. Did you manage to get something out of the wreckage of the palace? Or is it the high priest?"
"Neither .. . exactly. Matiseth Chemres is also dead—murdered just as was the prince, and the books you saw are gone."
"Perhaps I should retire to another room," Xonaapi suggested in a small voice. The talk of death and murder obviously made her nervous.
"Hmmm . . ." Inhetep said. "Yes. No! Rather than shutting yourself up in the bedroom, why don't you go out and shop, find some regular gowns and things. You need some proper clothes to wear, you know."
"She looks absolutely fetching in that toga," opined Tuhorus.
"Thank you," the girl said demurely, "but I don't like the color very much. It rather clashes with my hair, you see."
Inhetep handed her his purse after extracting some of the coins. "Here. Take this. There's sufficient money in there to buy several outfits and whatever cosmetics you might need," he added, thinking of Rachelle.
"This is wonderful!" The girl jumped up, whirled in a dance, and laughed. "What fun to see such a fine /Egyptian city as On and to be able to buy what I please, instead of having to wear whatever Father thought proper. I can hardly wait! I'll be back when the stores close," Xonappi informed them as she almost ran out the door. Inhetep called sharply to suggest that sundown might be a better time, for many of the city's establishments which catered to the wealthier clientele of On stayed open well into the night.
The coppery-haired girl agreed readily enough, promising to be back to the Reedfields by the time the sun went down. Then she blew a kiss to Inhetep, said goodbye to the policeman, and flew out the door.
"As enthusiastic as she is beautiful," Tuhorus commented after the door closed.
"This latest turn might prove a trial."
"Now, good Magister, what do you mean by that? She blew you a kiss, didn't she?"
"How will I explain the sum she'll spend to Racheile?"
"Racheile? I take it that is the other woman, so to speak. No matter. You're an inventive fellow, Inhetep. Can we get back to business perhaps?"
"If you'll stop making jibes about that girl we can," Inhetep growled. "Is there anything I need know before we go to the Temple of Set? I want to examine the scene of the crime."
"No, I think you'll find everything pretty much as it was when I discovered the hem-neter-tepi's body there in the late hours of the past night, sir. I have a dozen men guarding the place, and all of the relevant persons there have been questioned."
That was as he had hoped. "I'll don a tunic and be with you in a brief time. Have more of that food while you wait. I hate to see things wasted."
"Especially when you pay for them, Magister." Tuhorus smiled. "That brings me to the subject of women's apparel—" The slam of the bedroom door cut off anything more the police official might have said, so he contented himself with devouring whatever remained on the serving trays.
A few minutes later, Inhetep came back into the parlor, face and head freshly shaven, and wearing a crisp garment of cotton and linen. "Shall we depart?"
Tuhorus stood up and went to the door. "What of your theory as to the murders, Inhetep? You should share the information, you know."
"I am quite willing to do so—after I have seen Chemres and the scene where he was killed, Tuhorus."
"His death doesn't surprise you? I thought he had to be connected to the kill
ing of the governor."
"Connected is one thing which his demise doesn't rale out. However, my astute fellow, I am a trifle disconcerted that he was assassinated in the manner he was—and that all the evidence which he had in his possession is missing! Have you any clues to that?"
The detective looked up into the ur-kheri-heb's green eyes. "Now then, Magister, I too have professional secrets. The evidence found at the temple is all there to examine, accounts of the ones present at the time are recorded, and you can ask those witnesses more questions if you like. You'll draw your own conclusions. When you tell me what you've uncovered, I'll be happy to reveal my own deductions. Fair enough?"
"Fair enough, sir," Inhetep said, but it galled him. "By the by, Tuhorus, are you much of a linguist?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Perhaps it's no matter, but I was just thinking of the word which the steppe nomads use for whirlwind."
The inspector stopped and said, "Well, why? Or what is the word for that matter?"
"No matter, as I said. Can't seem to recall it," Setne drawled. Tuhorus now stumped along frowning, and Inhetep felt better. Exchange of information, indeed! As he had hoped, after they arrived, the policeman went off to the temple's great library, probably seeking books on Mongolian language, leaving the magister alone to examine the scene of the crime. The illusion of the original scene cast there by the prefecture's magician was quite good. Some details would be missing, of course, but even under close inspection Inhetep would have believed he was looking at the actual corpse of the high priest had he not known otherwise. The facial expression and dried blood were gruesome. They also told him that Matiseth's body had lain there some time before Tuhorus had discovered it. "An hour or thereabouts," Inhetep murmured as he got up and began to look around the room. There were signs of a disturbance—a broken vase, papers strewn about, and litter which indicated that the victim had undergone the same rigorous sort of dance that the prince governor had before dying. The magister stopped, picked up a lifeless spider whose desiccated body stood starkly against a papyrus background, and then cast a magickal light forth to examine the area. He expected no trace of aural or dweomered evidence, and when the wizard-priest used his powers to search for them, he found none.
