Scepter of Flint

by N. L. Holmes

  Outside Lord Ah-mes’s tomb sat a guard who was middle-aged, at least, but looked wiry and martial with a stave over his shoulder. Maya made his way toward him. “Yah, my good fellow,” Maya called, waving a hand.

  The fellow whipped around and hefted his weapon in menace. “This is private property, little man. Clear off.”

  A flush of outrage simmered under Maya’s skin, but he kept calm, remembering how Lord Hani never let insult ruffle him. “I’m a royal investigator,” he said loftily, a hand on his hip. “I wanted to talk to one of the guards hereabouts to see what anyone might have seen or heard when those three tombs were robbed in recent weeks.”

  The man looked uneasy and none too friendly. “I wasn’t here when the tombs were robbed. I was sick.”

  You look plenty healthy now, Maya thought suspiciously. “Perhaps you heard one of the others talking. We have reason to think the guards may have been paid off to be absent the nights of the robberies.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t know about that.” He turned as if to cut off the conversation.

  “You were gone all three times? They were days, if not weeks, apart.”

  The man seemed to swell with anger, but Maya had a suspicion it was in large part bravado. “Are you trying to call me a liar, little man? I’m a former cavalryman, a pehrer, a runner. I’ve got a spotless record in Our Sun’s service, and I won’t have anybody call me a liar.”

  “All right, all right,” Maya said, piqued. He didn’t want to antagonize the guard by locking horns with him. “All the more reason your insights could be useful to the good god. But if you won’t cooperate...”

  “I wasn’t here, I tell you,” the guard cried in a loud voice. “I know nothing.”

  “Very well. If you should hear anything from one of the other guards, send me word. I’m the secretary of the famous Lord Hani.” Maya lifted his chin then added quickly, “Who am I talking to, in case a message should come?”

  “Djed-ka-ra, formerly of the Glory of the Horizon company.”

  Maya took his leave with chilly civility and wondered if it would be worth his while to hunt down some of the other guards. Surely, they hadn’t all been sick. He held up a hand in farewell, and Djed-ka-ra grudgingly did the same. Maya couldn’t help noticing how hard with calluses the guard’s right hand was—the inside of his fingers was downright yellow. Is that from swinging an ax or drawing back a bow?

  ⸎

  Hani headed toward the southern edge of the city, well east of the Ipet-isut, which sat in melancholy splendor, liquefied by the shimmering heat and the humidity of the River. A pang of sorrow and anger twinged in Hani’s heart as it did every time he saw the Greatest of Shrines with its flags down and its golden doors boarded over.

  He was looking for the army garrison, where he hoped to find Pa-aten-em-heb. Hani had spent his younger years employed there, but the journey seemed longer than he remembered. It must be that, he told himself with a smile. It couldn’t be that I’m getting older.

  He gave his credentials at the gate and entered an immense courtyard punctuated by a broad cup-shaped well and a rectangular pond for the animals to water. The familiar tart smell of horses was in the air, and it aroused his nostalgia. A few men crossed the court in one direction or another—grooms with tack over their shoulders or soldiers striding briskly, their quilted aprons flapping against their legs. They look so young.

  He followed the worn track across the court, past the buildings that ringed it, and into a second quadrangle where the infantry mess was located. It was lunchtime, as the clatter and gabble of men and dishes from within proclaimed. The chances were good that Pa-aten-em-heb was there if he was in Waset.

  Indeed, no sooner had Hani stopped in the doorway, gazing blindly into the cool, shadowy hall where men ate with gusto, seated on the packed-earth floor, than Pa-aten-em-heb rose and approached him eagerly. “Lord Hani!” he cried, fisting his chest in a salute. “I was going to come see you as soon as I had the time. I’ve found out some things for you.” He drew Hani back out into the court and against the wall, where they had a little shade and more privacy.

  “I have a friend in the cavalry who is a scribe for the Glory of the Horizon company—he’s employed by the quartermaster. He told me that a few months ago there was a mysterious robbery from their depot.” Pa-aten-em-heb grinned evilly. “A quiver full of arrows went missing. Broad-headed medium-range arrows, such as the scouts use for sharpshooting when a kill is imperative.”

  Hani’s heart began to pound. “That’s an important addition to our case, my friend. You’ve done us a huge service.”

  Pa-aten-em-heb held up a hand. “But that’s not all, my lord. About the same time, one of their men—a scout—was honorably discharged after a disabling wound. He was hale enough, but he couldn’t run anymore as a scout needs to. He was an older fellow, anyway, apparently.” He paused for effect. “He was an archer. Can that be a coincidence?”

  Hani threw back his head and laughed with relief. “You’ve outdone yourself, Pa-aten-em-heb. This is worth more than one home-cooked dinner. I can’t thank you enough.”

  The young officer tilted his head modestly. “It’s the least I can do, Lord Hani. You saved my friend Menna”—his voice dropped to a near whisper—“and your family is keeping the faith.”

  Hani took his leave, clapping the officer warmly on the back. “I’m serious about dinner, my friend. I’ll be offended if you don’t show up.” He waved and crossed the bleak courtyard once more, while Pa-aten-em-heb returned to his lunch.

  Hani made his way back north through the city, his thoughts tumbling. The heat made it harder than normal to think straight. Was this retired archer the murderer? If so, why was he involved?

  It was late in the day when Hani arrived home. After he’d poured a jug of water over himself for a shower and oiled his skin, he took a seat in the empty salon to ponder. Empty indeed, he noticed, without Baket-iset’s couch and Nub-nefer’s gracious presence. He was thinking more about how much he missed them than about the facts of his case when he heard Maya in the vestibule, followed shortly thereafter by Mery-ra. They emerged together into the salon, surrounded by a pungent, oniony reek of sweat.

  “Hello, Hani, my boy. Where’s Pipi?” Mery-ra said.

  “I don’t know, Father. He hasn’t come back yet.” Hani no longer remembered what Pipi was doing. “Let’s pool whatever we found. I want to try to construct some kind of shape to this case.”

  The three of them seated themselves on stools under the clerestory-like ventilator in the ceiling, hoping to catch a draft. Hani began by describing what he’d discovered about the missing arrows and the ex-archer. He could see Maya’s eyes grow wide.

  “That sheds light on what I found, my lord,” the secretary cried excitedly. “First, I talked to Ankh-reshet, who said the arrow was sticking straight up out of Djau’s back. That means it was fired from the trail behind him, not from the cliffs. At first, I thought it strange that Djau wouldn’t have heard someone walking behind him, but there was apparently something of a sandstorm that day.”

  “Excellent deductive work, Maya,” Hani said. “If the murderer was a trained scout, he would know how to move silently. And it must have taken some skill to shoot an arrow, even at close range, in a wind.”

  Maya continued breathlessly, “I interviewed the guards of the three tombs that were robbed. Two had alibis, but the third, Djed-ka-ra, the guard of Ah-mes’s tomb, claimed he’d been sick—on all three nights. He said he was a retired cavalryman, a pehrer. He was very touchy when I questioned him—threatening almost. He must be the discharged scout!”

  A warm tide of satisfaction began to rise in Hani’s middle. At last, they were getting somewhere. “How did your investigations go, Father?” He turned to Mery-ra.

  “I talked to the families of Pa-ren-nefer and Sa-tau. They knew of no connections to Naharin. But they were both men whose loyalties lay quietly with the old ways, despite being highly placed functionaries of
Nefer-khepru-ra. And they were both very rich, like Ah-mes. If I were out to rob a tomb, I would certainly target them.” Mery-ra sat back, smiling.

  Before Hani could even reply, Pipi burst triumphantly into the room. He’d shed his shirt, which trailed like a tail behind him, stuck by a corner into the waist of his kilt. “Iyi, everybody’s here already,” he cried. “Am I late?”

  “This is all informal,” Hani assured him. “What did you find out?”

  “That officer, the son of Ah-hotep-ra, is named Iby. He’s Lord Ay’s aide de camp in the cavalry.”

  “Do we have any reason to think he’s involved in this business?” Hani asked in a neutral tone.

  “What do you mean?” Pipi asked, confused. “He’s the one who coordinated the whole thing for Lord Ay.”

  Mery-ra exchanged a look with Hani and said mildly, “You may be jumping to conclusions, son. We’ll need some supporting evidence to make that claim conclusively. So far, all we have proved is that he’s Ay’s aide.”

  “Maybe Pa-aten-em-heb would have information on this fellow,” suggested Maya.

  “Perhaps,” Hani said. “Let’s lay out what we know so far. Maya, my friend, take notes for us, please.”

  Maya unhitched his writing case, mixed up some ink, shook a potsherd out, and laid it on his knee. “Ready, Lord Hani.”

  Hani stared blankly up at the ceiling while he gathered his thoughts. “We have a pretty good idea that Talpu-sharri was the organizer of these robberies. Why, though? And why didn’t he get out of the country while he had the perfect chance? If he’s still here, it’s for a reason.”

  “And who is he?” Mery-ra said. “He claims to have immunity. He says he’s acting for powerful people and that the tomb robberies are for the good of the kingdom. He speaks of regime change. Who’s really behind this, by all that’s holy?”

  “We have three suspects,” said Hani, holding up three fingers. “The king, Lord Ay, and the Crocodiles.” With each name, he folded down a finger.

  “What crocodiles?” Pipi asked.

  “Those who hope to bring back the Hidden One and restore his priesthood.”

  “But we all do that,” Pipi protested. “I pray for that every day.”

  Hani said, “Well, the Crocodiles are doing more than praying. The thing about putting the rightful king on the throne and doing good for the kingdom sounds just like them. I’m not sure they would rob tombs, but it honestly wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “But why?” Maya looked up from his writing. “Why would they rob men who were sympathetic to their cause?”

  Hani shrugged. “That’s part of what we need to find out. Maya, put that question off to the side—why is this whole affair going on?”

  “What else?” asked his father. “If this Djed-ka-ra is the murderer of Djau, why did he do it? The man had already reported the robberies to authorities.”

  “But I later found out that Djau not only heard the conversation between Bebi-ankh and the foreigner, but he saw the foreigner’s face as well. He was still a danger.”

  Maya looked up again. “Is that why Djau lied to us, Lord Hani? He was afraid to tell anyone what he really knew?”

  “I would think so. He probably didn’t trust me fully, even though he seemed cooperative.”

  “How did Talpu-sharri know you were coming to arrest him?” asked Mery-ra, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe he already intended to jump ship, but that seems like a little too much coincidence.”

  “I don’t know, Father. Let’s think. Did Pirissi and Tulubri talk to him? Is there someone in Kiya’s entourage who is part of the plan? Nobody knew where I was headed except us and Menna.” Hani saw from the corner of his eye that Pipi was squirming. “What is it, brother?” Hani turned to him. “Do you know something?”

  Pipi looked up guiltily from under his bangs. “I... I may have said something to the soldier I interrogated about the son of Ah-hotep-ra.”

  Hani felt a wave of anger rising in him, but it turned to hopelessness somewhere on its way up. Pipi was simply not to be trusted, good-hearted though he was. He couldn’t hold his tongue. He wanted too hard to look important. How ironic that the free spirit of the family is so desperate for respect.

  He blew out a breath through his nose and said blandly, “Well, that may, in fact, be where the word got out. But it confirms what we suspected—that the cavalry is somehow involved.”

  “And that tells us that it’s probably the king or Lord Ay behind it all,” cried Maya.

  “But why?” Hani pushed back his wig and scratched his head. “How does all this help the kingdom and put the right man on the throne?”

  “Wait,” said Mery-ra. “Would the king be trying to put someone else on the throne? It can’t be him.”

  “Then that leaves Ay,” Hani mused. “Which supports the participation of the cavalry and maybe explains Djed-ka-ra’s involvement.”

  “I told you so!” Pipi cried, recovering his excitement.

  “Is Lord Ay plotting a coup?” Maya asked, his eyes round as plates.

  “Now,” Hani said, ignoring them, “why were these three tombs targeted? Simply because they belonged to rich men? Why would Lord Ay need any more wealth? Through his daughter, he can have almost anything he wants. And that being true, why in the world would he be trying to put someone else on the throne, unless it’s himself? And why would a Mitannian be involved with him?”

  The men fell silent. Hani felt there was an answer just out of reach. “Lord Ah-mes seems to have met with Talpu-sharri just before he died. Is that significant?”

  “But as far as we know, the others didn’t meet with him,” Maya said. “What they seem to have had in common was dissatisfaction with the new regime.”

  Mery-ra said, “And yet they continued to be loyal. They were hardly revolutionaries. Maybe there was no conscious selection. These were all tombs that were completed within the year, and the same work teams probably constructed and decorated them.”

  Hani unfolded his legs, rose, and stretched. “We’re just not at the point where we can answer these questions yet, my friends. It’s well past midday, and I haven’t eaten. Let’s see what the cook can put together for us.”

  CHAPTER 10

  THE NEXT MORNING, AS they ate milk and a chunk of bread in the kitchen, Hani said to Mery-ra, “Neferet and her friend have been suspiciously quiet. What are they up to?”

  “Judging from the smells emerging from her room, they’re concocting some medicinal brew,” his father replied with a chuckle.

  “I think they should go down to the farm with the others. I almost feel that Neferet is trying to avoid her mother.” Is she afraid Nub-nefer will badger her to get married? he wondered.

  “Or should some of the others come back here?” Mery-ra asked. “Meaning, everyone but Anuia and her family.”

  Suddenly, Hani thought of something that had been in the back of his mind ever since the meeting with his coinvestigators the previous afternoon. “Maybe I should talk to Amen-em-hut—”

  “Not that you know where he is, of course,” Mery-ra said with a sly wag of the eyebrows.

  “He might be able to tell me whether the high priests have a paw in this. I’ve lost Lady Apeny as a go-between, but I’d be amazed if Anuia doesn’t know how to reach him. Or,” Hani had to admit, “Nub-nefer.”

  “Why don’t you let her talk to him? That Mahu may be having you watched.”

  Hani looked up at Mery-ra. “How does he play into all this, Father? That’s something we didn’t talk about yesterday. I’ve tended to think about him as a pest, but he isn’t interfering with the case on his own. He’s following the king’s orders—ham-handedly, perhaps, and officiously, but it suggests that someone the king is protecting wants this investigation shut down.”

  “If the king wants it shut down, why did he put you on it in the first place?”

  Hani snorted. “I don’t know. What on earth could be his motive for robbing tombs? How could he want a regime change? And t
hreatening to rob his own father’s tomb, if Talpu-sharri wasn’t just trying to impress his workmen... Maybe the king has nothing to do with it.”

  “You’ll figure it out, son. I have confidence in you.” Mery-ra patted him on the shoulder. “Your mother used to say you were the devious one in the family.”

  “She did?” Hani cried in surprise. “Why?”

  “Because you could lie with a straight face. Pipi would always blush and giggle; he couldn’t convince anybody.”

  Hani’s dismay must have shown on his face, because Mery-ra laughed and said, “That’s what makes you such a good diplomat, son.”

  “I’m hurt that she thought I was dishonest,” Hani said with a half-hearted laugh. “I try very hard to live in ma’at, Father.”

  “Oh, you’re not dishonest, Hani. You were always scrupulously honest. But you know how children can be. Occasionally, something comes up that has to be concealed from Mama and Papa.”

  Hani pondered this, wondering again if Neferet had something to conceal. She certainly couldn’t lie with a straight face. And her mother was definitely the more demanding of her two parents.

  Hani said to his father with a fond smile, “They say that one parent is typically the disciplinarian, but I don’t remember either you or Mother being very strict. We were a wild pair.”

  Mery-ra chuckled. “You were both good-hearted boys. We didn’t worry about youthful pranks, as long as you weren’t unkind.”

  “May you live forever, noble Father,” Hani said, his voice breaking a little, which he attempted to hide with a punch at his father’s arm.

  They dusted the last of the crumbs off their chests and prepared to go about their day’s work. Hani’s ears pricked up at the sound of girlish giggles in the salon. “There are the missing young ladies,” he said with a smile.

  He passed into the salon and saw Neferet, carrying a big jug in her arms, on her way to the garden. Bener-ib followed closely with a smaller vessel in either hand. They were murmuring to one another and laughing like madwomen. It reassured Hani to see his daughter’s friend happy for a change, but he was more than a little curious as to what they were up to.