Lynda Robinson - Drinker Of Blood

When he arrived at the tavern this evening, the Lotus's owner, Ese, told him she'd had visits from three different patrols. Since Ese disliked men intensely and noblemen in particular, Meren was uneasy using her tavern as a meeting place now that she felt threatened. However, Othrys, who had accompanied him, assured him that Ese was more afraid of him than the city police and wouldn't reveal Meren's presence. Othrys was entertaining his allies in piracy at the moment- sailors, ship captains, port officials, Asiatic merchants, and the corrupt Egyptian traders who bought goods for temples, nobles, and government offices. The Divine Lotus was more packed than usual.

The crowding suited Meren, for it meant that he was ignored in favor of the abundant drink and roast ox Othrys had provided. He took a sip of beer, trying to ignore the stale taste. He was feeling lost and powerless, as he had when Akhenaten killed his father for refusing to renounce Amun. After he'd avoided being killed himself, Meren had spent his life trying to make certain he'd never be powerless again-and he'd failed. His impotence was a rat gnawing at his gut, and every action he took reminded him of how lost he was.

He'd never realized how much he'd taken for granted until he'd been forced from his position and his home. Although in the past he'd taken various guises in the service of pharaoh, he'd always chosen to play the part of men of whom he'd had adequate experience-rich merchants, soldiers, foreign nobles. Such disguises were too dangerous now.

Thus continual vigilance was essential, for his must give no orders-something he did as naturally as he breathed. He must walk differently, not stride as was his habit and expect others to get out of his way. He couldn't look at people in his own manner, for a great man stared over the heads of most and looked directly at anyone he wished. He had to amend his manners; they were those of an aristocrat. He had to fetch his own food and clothing and empty the bowl of sand under the toilet in his room.

Every moment he had to guard his speech and roughen his accent to that of a Greek commoner. But what had almost given him away several times was his habit of resting his hand on the dagger thrust into his belt-that dagger he could no longer wear without revealing himself. Greek sailors didn't go about wearing weapons any more than did ordinary Egyptians.

Meren tensed as a foreign merchant stumbled in his direction. It was Dilalu, who was known to frequent the Divine Lotus. Asiatics like him were recognizable by their multicolored and fringed wool robes. The merchant's clothing danced with embroidery and gold appliques. He had a wide face, but the lower half was obscured by a beard and curling mustache. Meren drew in his legs as the man zigzagged toward him and into a pool of lamplight. If Dilalu got a look at his face, he might be recognized.

Drawing his legs close to his chest, Meren tried to melt into the corner, but Dilalu's foot hit his ankle. The merchant tripped and would have plummeted to the floor in front of Meren had someone not caught him. Abu hoisted the man upright, twirled him around, and aimed him at one of Ese's prettiest dancers. The girl caught him, laughed, and began whispering in his ear. Soon Dilalu was giggling, his near accident forgotten.

Abu lowered himself beside Meren, who sighed and whispered, "My thanks."

"It was nothing, lor-it was nothing. What is Dilalu doing here?"

"Getting drunk on wine and pleasure, from what I can see. The Divine Lotus attracts most foreigners. You know that. I have to get away from this drunken offal before he runs into me again. Follow me to the courtyard."

Meren threaded his way through Othrys's numerous acquaintances and into Ese's courtyard. There amorous couples groped each other among the shrubs and flowers. Once Meren had found an isolated refuge in the shadows behind a tamarisk tree, Abu began to whisper to Meren.

"I have news-"

Meren shook his head. "That can wait. How does my family?"

"Lord Kysen was taken to the palace three days ago."

Meren felt the world spin for a moment. "He came back?"

Abu nodded. "Pharaoh spoke to him, but he was taken home." Abu frowned and rubbed his chin. "Afterward the men guarding your household were removed."

"It's a trap. Pharaoh has been an excellent student, Abu."

"Aye, but that's not what disturbs me. I was able to view the house for a brief time from the roof of another building."

"You should be careful," Meren said. "They're looking for you as well as me."

"I'm careful. I saw Lady Bener talking to her personal maid in the kitchen yard."

"She's well?"

"Too well. You remember how she used to look as a child when she'd devised some plan of devilment that had succeeded? She wore that same look while she was talking to the maid."

Meren covered his face with his hands. "Oh no. She has involved herself."

"I think so, because today Reia saw Lord Ebana enter the house."

Startled, Meren gaped at Abu. "How long has he been there?"

"I know not, lord."

Meren groaned. "Bener was always his favorite niece. She would tell him her plots and plans, and he'd keep her secrets. She remembers him as he was before pharaoh murdered his family, and I'd wager a chariot that it was she who sent for him."

"Perhaps, but there's nothing that can be done about your children at the moment, lord."

Whispering a stream of curses, Meren began to pace back and forth in front of the tamarisk tree. "Very well, but when I'm free again, I'll take a chariot whip to that girl." He saw Abu's grin. "This time I mean it."

"Of course." Abu's tone was skeptical.

Eyeing his aide, Meren asked, "How long have you been with me?"

"The lord was but a youth when I came to train him."

"But how long?"

"Over twenty years."

"Too long, Abu. You know me too well."

"You suffer much, lord, for it isn't like you to complain and lament."

Meren stopped in front of his aide and clasped his shoulder. "Forgive me, these leggings itch and I haven't been able to go about in daylight for what seems like years. Without the feel of Ra's light on my skin, my ka shrivels like grapes left in a tomb. What have you to tell me?"

"Reia and I did as you instructed, lord. We've been watching Dilalu and Yamen as much as possible. Neither has done anything suspicious. However, Dilalu is making preparations to go back to Byblos, and Yamen will soon depart for Megiddo as king's herald to assess tribute."

"Damnation, if they leave-"

"Fear not, lord. I was trying to tell you, I think I've seen the barber."

Meren drew closer to his aide. "Where?"

"This morning a soldier reported for duty with the squadron under Yamen's command at General Nakhtmin's barracks near the palace. This soldier has a shaved head, but he's growing his hair again, so it looks as if he stopped shaving it quite recently. And, lord, he is left-handed. I saw him with Yamen drawing a bow in a practice yard. There are scars on his inner arm from blade strikes."

"By the gods, Abu."

"Yes, lord."

"We must arrange a meeting with Yamen."

"In what manner?"

"What are his habits?" Meren asked. "Does he frequent any tavern or other place at night?"

"He visits the daughter of an incense maker in the Street of Perfumers." Abu glanced up at the moon. "He crosses the city almost every night to see her. Soon he'll be on his way."

"Good. You and I are going to pay Yamen a visit while he's indulging himself. It's always best to take an enemy in a vulnerable position, and I can't think of one more vulnerable than a man lying with a woman."

"Aye, lord."

"We've been here too long. Leave as you did last time and meet me behind the carpenter's workshop down the street."

"Yes, lord."