Scepter of Flint

by N. L. Holmes

  “Why, that’s good. The child should do well in the loving care of her grandmother.” Hani tried to sound enthusiastic.

  Kiya shot him a look full of pain. “She would do better in the loving care of her mother.” She gave an ironic sniff. “So, who’s taking me back, Hani? You?”

  “I don’t know yet, Lady Kiya.”

  “They’ll probably just stuff me into the back of some merchant’s wagon along with the rugs.” She stood up, less washed-out than she had been before. The final humiliation hadn’t broken her but rather had galvanized her. “Thank you for coming, my old friend. I hope it’s you who takes me back. That would close the circle.”

  “My lady, I wish you all the good in the world. You’re young; you can marry again. I hope your life will become happy once more.” He tried not think about what was happening in Naharin—the wars between Tushratta and his brother and the pieces falling off the kingdom under the onslaughts of the Hittites. He wondered if she would even reach her homeland alive.

  The sound of soft-soled footsteps made Hani turn. A Mitannian man was approaching the royal lady with the smooth, humble mien of a high-level servant. He bowed before her. “Forgive me, my lady. I didn’t know you had visitors. You directed me to bring Lady Baket-aten’s nurse to you. She’s waiting in the outer vestibule.”

  “Thank you, Talpu-sharri.” Kiya turned to Hani, and all at once she was radiant. “This is my chamberlain. He’s worth his weight in gold, which perhaps I didn’t realize until he was absent for a few weeks.” She smiled at the chamberlain with a bit too much warmth. “The poor man was sick. I was so worried.” The last statement seemed to be addressed to Talpu-sharri.

  Hani tipped his head in greeting, and Talpu-sharri smiled and bowed a little, his hands clasped at his waist. The man was probably in his thirties, tall, and well-built, with dark wavy hair down to his shoulders and a collar of beard. He had fine eyes of a light golden brown.

  And a mole above his left lip.

  At Hani’s side, Maya let out a gasp then covered it up with a cough.

  Although his heart had started to hammer in his chest, Hani managed a smooth voice as he said, “We leave you in good hands, my lady. Goodbye... and perhaps farewell.”

  “Farewell, my dear old friend.”

  Hani turned and retreated down the cloister, tingling with excitement, Maya pattering in his wake. The majordomo popped up from where he was sitting to accompany them from the palace.

  CHAPTER 7

  “BUT HOW COULD TALPU-sharri have gotten down to Waset so often?” Maya exclaimed. “He’s a sort of servant. He must have duties.”

  The two men were once again on the deck of a ferry, this time bound upstream to Akhet-aten. Maya’s head was reeling with the latest complication in their case.

  “Didn’t you hear Lady Kiya say he’d been sick? He probably took time off from his duties, but instead of lying in bed, he hotfooted it south,” Lord Hani said pensively. He stared at Maya. “Somehow, we have to get Pirissi and Tulubri out of Mahu’s hands before he has them impaled.”

  Maya shook his head, confused and disgusted. “Too bad we don’t have Bebi-ankh anymore. No doubt he could make a positive identification.” He returned Hani’s caustic look. “Will Mahu even listen to us if we tell him we’ve found the real ringleader? Knowing him, he just wants to hand the king a closed case, not find out who’s genuinely at fault.”

  Hani snorted. “We need to talk to Ptah-mes. Perhaps he can get the vizier to intervene. After all, we’re working for him.”

  As soon as they reached the capital, Hani and Maya headed directly for the Hall of Royal Correspondence. But Lord Ptah-mes wasn’t in his office. Maya realized then that it was the end-of-week holiday and none of the government offices were open.

  “Let’s track him down at home,” Hani said, and with Maya scampering along behind him, he set out briskly toward the southern edge of the city.

  They presented themselves at the high commissioner’s gate, and the porter, who knew them well, admitted them to the garden. “Lord Ptah-mes is under the arbor, my lord.”

  Hani and Maya, who stayed with Ptah-mes when they had business in the capital, needed no guide. They found the high commissioner seated under the leafless grapevines with a scroll across his knees.

  “Ah, Hani, Maya,” he said, looking up, his somber expression relaxing. “I was just looking over a Book of Going Forth by Day I commissioned for my tomb.” He turned it upside down and showed Hani the illustrations. Maya peeked around his father-in-law’s broad body and saw text and pictures as beautiful as Maya would have expected from Ptah-mes, whose taste was impeccable and for whom no expense was prohibitive.

  “‘What did you find on the shore of the pool of the Two Truths?’ A scepter of flint whose name is Breath Giver,” Hani read aloud. He laughed nervously. “Believe it or not, that’s exactly the passage I read in my father’s Book a few weeks ago. Someone’s trying to tell me something.”

  “What exactly is a scepter of flint?” Maya asked. “I picture it something like those knives they use to cut the umbilical cord.”

  “Perhaps. That would be a ‘breath giver,’ in a sense,” said Lord Ptah-mes, tipping his head in acknowledgment.

  “But it’s a scepter. Like a was scepter—tall? Like the king’s crook, small enough to hold in your arms?” Maya found himself intrigued.

  But Lord Hani said, “Let’s figure this out later, Maya. We need to tell Lord Ptah-mes what has happened since we last spoke.”

  Ptah-mes gestured to the two men to have a seat on the stools that punctuated his garden.

  Lord Hani began with a deep breath and said, “I think we’ve found the ringleader of the tomb robbers, my lord.”

  Ptah-mes’s arched black eyebrows rose. “Well done, Hani. Who is it?”

  “It’s probably the chamberlain of Lady Kiya, a man named Talpu-sharri. At least, he matches Bebi-ankh’s description. And he pretended to be sick for the last few weeks, which would have given him time to go to Waset and direct his robberies.”

  “Why did he speak of his immunity?” Maya asked.

  “Perhaps he was just bragging to reassure his henchmen. Royal servants don’t enjoy any real immunity that I’m aware of,” said Ptah-mes. “Where did the man come from, anyway? He certainly wasn’t sent down with Lady Kiya.”

  “I can confirm that, my lord. You’ve posed a good question.” Hani caught Maya’s eye. “Make a note of that, son. We need to look into it. Or better still, we’ll have Neferet check him out. A good-looking man like that—I’ll bet all the royal girls know everything about him.” Hani blew out through his nose, which Maya recognized as an expression of discouragement. “We have to get the others out of Mahu’s clutches. I’m sure Bebi-ankh could identify the man. But there’s hardly a chance that Mahu will cooperate.”

  Ptah-mes looked grim. “Let’s see what the vizier says. I don’t think he likes Mahu much.”

  He rolled up his Book of Going Forth carefully and tied a ribbon around it. Then he sat up straighter, his long ringed hands crossed in his lap on top of the scroll. “I have some news too. The dowager queen has died.”

  “Lady Tiyi?” Hani cried. “How sad. Was it the plague?”

  She’s the one who was supposed to be taking care of Kiya’s daughter, Maya thought.

  “Yes,” Ptah-mes answered. “It’s spreading. It’s in the city now.”

  Maya’s stomach clenched in dread. He and Hani exchanged an uneasy look. “Perhaps you should get out, my lord,” said Hani.

  Ptah-mes gave an ambiguous twitch of the shoulders. His smile was as dry as the sands of the Red Land. A tense silence fell over the three men.

  Maya could hardly swallow. His first thought was, Let’s flee this accursed city. And then, Lord Hani’s brother and two of his children live here.

  “Do you want me to continue to investigate, Lord Ptah-mes? Or do we bow to Mahu’s takeover?” Hani asked.

  “I talked with the vizier after our
last conversation. He confirmed that you are the investigator, at the king’s order. He’s going to speak to the king about the confusion of jurisdiction—in fact, he may already have done so. Our friend Mahu may be arrogating more authority than he was intended to. I can imagine that taking prisoners away from the army bent a few noses.” Ptah-mes’s smile widened, but there was no warmth in it.

  “I hope he can do something. I would like to question the men a little, but Mahu may have tortured them to the limit already.” Hani looked sunk in thought, then he brightened. “Perhaps Bebi-ankh’s wife knows something. She seemed to be aware of what was going on.”

  Rising, Ptah-mes replied, “Do what you must, Hani. I hope you gentlemen will honor me with your presence tonight.”

  “Thank you, my lord. We accept gratefully.”

  Maya could feel cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. No, let’s get out of here now. Now.

  ⸎

  Night had fallen. Hani and Maya and their host had dined together on expensive delicacies prepared with the utmost sophistication. Afterward, they sat around with cups of wine from Djahy and made small talk. Finally, Maya excused himself and headed off to bed, leaving Hani and Ptah-mes alone.

  “How are things, Hani?” Ptah-mes asked quietly.

  “Well, my lord. I just dropped my daughter off with her teacher at the House of the Royal Ornaments. That’s where I had the visit with Lady Kiya and was introduced to her chamberlain.”

  “Your family is all well?”

  “Mercifully, yes. And yours?”

  “They’re well,” Ptah-mes said vaguely. Hani knew he rarely saw his children, who were all married. He and his wife barely spoke.

  An uncomfortable silence descended.

  Hani realized that his host was wearing no mourning scarf. “Is there no official mourning for Lady Tiyi? She was a great and powerful lady in her day.”

  Ptah-mes snorted. “Nothing public. The king doesn’t want it known how seriously the ranks of the royal family and servants of the palace are dropping.”

  Hani felt a chill ripple up the back of his neck. “Neferet,” he murmured. “She’s tending the sick.”

  “Load her with amulets, Hani. That’s all you can do.” Ptah-mes’s grave look was full of pity.

  He rose and stretched. “Forgive me, my friend, but I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed early.”

  He looks tired, Hani thought. Ptah-mes’s face was thinner than usual, and he’d developed bags under his eyes. Of course, he must be fifty.

  “I’m tired too,” Hani admitted, getting to his feet and brushing the accumulated crumbs from his kilt.

  His host moved with his usual grace to the staircase, and Hani found his accustomed room. He heard Maya snoring loudly next door. As he removed and folded his clothes, he asked himself, What is the motive of a man of Talpu-sharri’s status for risking such an enormous punishment? Simple greed? Some political agenda? His heart stumbled a beat. Surely he wasn’t acting on Kiya’s behalf. And who is he?

  And then, there was the strange reaction of fear on Bebi-ankh’s part the night of the party. Had the mere sound of a Hurrian accent frightened him—or was there more to it?

  ⸎

  As soon as Hani had reached his home in Waset and greeted Nub-nefer and Baket-iset, he knocked on the door of Bebi-ankh’s room. The painter’s haggard wife appeared, and when she saw Hani, she cried bitterly, “You said he would be safe here, my lord, but he’s disappeared. Where is he?”

  Hani drew a deep breath. “He voluntarily left my custody, mistress. And I’m afraid Mahu and the medjay have him again.”

  The woman clutched her face and screamed, “No! They’ll finish him off this time!” She staggered back into the room, and Hani followed her, afraid she might faint. But she sank onto the unmade bed, oblivious to the stares of her three little children, and began to sob into her hands. “What will I do? How will I put food in the babies’ mouths?”

  Hani felt as if an undigested lump of lead sat in his belly. He said kindly, “Can you help me confirm the identity of the ringleader, mistress? He’s the one who is really guilty, not the workmen who saw a way to feed their families.”

  “All I know is this.” She gulped. “Bibi said the man was a foreigner, tall and fair skinned, and had light eyes and a mole on his lip. He mentioned that when we were talking about how different foreigners looked.”

  Hani nodded. He already knew all of that. Talpu-sharri fit the description. “Anything else?”

  “He had on a beautiful blue-green tunic. Bibi was very struck by it.”

  “Did he mention anything else distinctive about the man? How did he meet Bebi-ankh? When did all this start?”

  “Now, that I can tell you. It was the week before the Great Jubilee. Bibi said one of his colleagues, a color man named Heqa-nakht, whispered to him that he knew a way to make some silver. And that was ironic, because Bibi had lost a lot of our pay to Heqa-nakht, betting on Hounds and Jackals.” The woman snorted. “He was a no-good piece of trouble, that Heqa-nakht. I told Bibi to stay away from the scum, but of course, they had to work together.”

  “How did the foreigner meet the men he wanted to work for him?” Hani pressed.

  “There was a tomb just being excavated. The plasterers hadn’t even gotten to it yet, so there was no guard. Heqa-nakht passed him the word, and he went there at night. The foreigner explained what he wanted from them and told them the enormous rewards they’d get.” She blew out a sharp breath of disgust. “He didn’t tell them what would happen to them if they got caught. But I warned Bibi...” She drew her second youngest, a girl of perhaps three, against her knees and played mechanically with the child’s Haru lock. Her face was stricken.

  Clearly, we need to find this Heqa-nakht, Hani thought. He’s the one who got away the day we arrested the others. “Where did Heqa-nakht live?”

  “At the Place of Truth, like all of us. They had a nice house but didn’t take care of it. His wife's a complete slattern, as bad as her husband, and their children are always snot-nosed and dirty. I didn’t want mine to play with them.”

  “Could you show me their house?”

  “I can, my lord.”

  Hani told her to be ready to cross the River the next afternoon, and he headed back to the salon. He said to himself, “I must remember to return the Mitannians’ baggage to Mane’s house.”

  ⸎

  The following morning, Hani and his wife were sitting side by side, eating breakfast in the salon. Nub-nefer had been as deeply unnerved by news of the spreading plague as he was.

  “Hani, we have to get Neferet out of there. I don’t care what you told her,” she said fiercely.

  “And Pipi and Aha, too, I suppose. Perhaps we can pretend to be insurgents, stage a raid, and kidnap them all.” He managed a wry smile despite the anxiety that gnawed at him.

  “Don’t mock me, my love. Our children’s lives are at risk,” she chided, giving him a baleful stare. “At least Aha has sent Khentet-ka and the children up to her mother’s country place.”

  “While Pipi has just called his family down to the capital. I’ve never seen him excited about a job before. These are truly extraordinary times.”

  Nub-nefer clapped her hands to her temples and shook her head in frustration. “You’re hopeless, Hani. How you can make jokes over a subject like this...?”

  Hani reached out and caressed her coppery arm. “It’s because I can do nothing about it, my dove. Lady Sekhmet chooses whom she will to afflict, and there’s no place to hide. Better to smile than to weep and wring our hands, isn’t it?”

  Nub-nefer took his hand and kissed the knuckles. Her eyes sparkled. “Can’t I do both?” They shared a laugh, with the resignation of those whom the gods have tossed about. Her arm stealing around Hani’s waist, Nub-nefer said, “Have you ever figured out who the mysterious foreigner is?”

  “I think I have a good idea. Bebi-ankh’s wife is taking me to the Place of Truth today so I can talk to a
nother of the conspirators—or more likely, his family. I’m sure he’s fled someplace far away. I’d like a confirmation of the foreigner’s description before I take the man in for questioning.”

  “What about the murderer of that artist?” she asked.

  A spearpoint of remorse pricked Hani. “I’d forgotten about him, with all the other things going on. Thank you for reminding me.” He heaved a deep breath. “There were no witnesses to his murder, so I’m not really sure where to start. Maybe with the overseer Ankh-reshet. He’s the one who found him.”

  Nub-nefer leaned in to kiss him, and Hani, suddenly fighting down a lump in his throat, thought, This is why ma’at must be restored: so that innocent people like my family won’t have to suffer the punishment of a lawless kingdom.

  Maya arrived, chipper and ready to work. He and Hani had just started toward the door into the vestibule when the outer panel opened, and the broad silhouette of Mery-ra appeared.

  “Ah, Father,” Hani said. “How would you like to join us in the Place of Truth? It occurs to me that we can divide up our interviews and get things done more quickly.”

  “Of course, son. I don’t want my skills to get rusty now that I’m retired.” Mery-ra beamed his gap-toothed smile. “And I’m fortified by a lunch at Meryet-amen’s house. Her cook is superb.”

  Hani and Maya exchanged a knowing grin. Meryet-amen, a rich widow, was Mery-ra’s lady friend.

  “I want to ask about Djau’s murder too. Maybe Ankh-reshet can remember something useful,” said Hani as the three men crunched down the garden path toward the gate. Bebi-ankh’s wife hadn’t dared to leave her children after all, despite Nub-nefer’s offer to help, but she had given Hani directions to Heqa-nakht’s house.

  “Djau... was that the man killed with the military arrow?”

  Hani nodded.

  “Why don’t you ask Pa-aten-em-heb about that? Maybe he could identify it in some way to narrow down your search,” his father suggested.