Lynda Robinson: Eater of souls

But he couldn't deal with her now. He needed time to think about what was best. Relieved that he'd thought of a reprieve, Meren went to the hall where Bener had ordered food and beer set out. Kysen was waiting for him, his hands restlessly twisting a papyrus roll. He greeted Meren as his father sat down and picked up a water jar.

"All went well with the Hittite?"

"As well as any matter can go with a Hittite." Meren poured water into a large cup and drank all of it.

Kysen's fingers closed over the papyrus. "And pharaoh?"

Meren furrowed his brow.

"Father, there's news about the cook."

"Good. What is it?"

Kysen looked over his shoulder, and Abu appeared, leading the chief of watchmen, Sokar. When Meren saw him, he almost groaned. Sokar approached and threw himself at Meren's feet.

"O mighty Eyes of Pharaoh, have pity on this poor miserable servant. I am beset with countless duties. I have no relief, too few men, a vast city to patrol. How was I to know?"

Raising his eyes to the ceiling, Meren snapped, "Be silent. Kysen, what is he doing here?"

Kysen put the papyrus roll into his hands, one of the daily lists of incidents compiled by Sokar. An item near the bottom of the sheet had been underlined in fresh red ink. It read, "Stabbings, a man and a woman. Not of the city."

"By the gods!" Meren felt blood rush to his head. He jumped to his feet, sending his chair scooting backward as he glared at the blubbering chief watchman.

"They were not of the city, my lord! Newcomers, who didn't even own the house, poor, and of no importance."

"Sokar, you are a lackwitted donkey." Meren clenched his fists in an effort to keep from striking the man.

"He says he knows who owns the house," Kysen said.

Meren shoved Sokar with his foot and bellowed, "Who!"

"A man of Arthribis in the delta, called Nefersekheru."

"Go on, Sokar," Kysen said. "Tell it all."

Sokar tried to worm his body between the tiles that decorated the dais stairs.

"Out with it, you fool, before I pull your tongue out and make you eat it," Meren said.

"Nefersekheru only holds the lease on the house," Sokar said. "He holds it for another, who also is not of the city."

Meren paced away from Sokar and returned to plant his feet wide apart, his hands on his hips. Sokar whimpered and kissed the floor before Meren's sandal.

"Listen to me," Meren shouted. "If you speak those words 'not of the city' another time, I will banish you to the turquoise mines. Now tell me who owns that house where Hunero and her husband Bay were killed."

"Naram-Sin! His name is Naram-Sin, O great one. Oh, misery and woe, I am doomed. Naught but horror befalls those who cause difficulty for the Greek pirate."

"Silence!" Meren bellowed.

He ignored Sokar's blubbering. Rubbing his chin, he fell to pacing while Abu dragged Sokar out of the hall. With the chief of watchmen gone, a peaceful silence reigned. Kysen dropped wearily to the floor beside Meren's chair, grabbed a small bread loaf, and began tearing pieces from it. Meren paused beside his chair to fix his gaze on a glazed floor tile. It bore an alternating pattern of papyrus stalks and lotus buds.

Finally he spoke. "Ky, we've stumbled into a swamp inhabited by all sorts of poisonous creatures. Everything is murky, like marsh water. The truth is trapped below the surface, weighed down by mud, tangled in roots, and screened by reeds. If we reach it, we could thrust our hands into the mouth of the crocodile."

Kysen tore off another piece of bread and studied his father. "I know, and that's why I don't understand why you suddenly look as if you're anticipating the feast of Hathor."

"Who killed the cook and old Bay?" Meren glanced down at his son. "Was it someone in the pay of the pirate? Was it Naram-Sin? Or was it Eater of Souls?"

"They were stabbed."

"So was that woman who was waiting in the garden for Mugallu."

"By the wrath of Set, Father."

Meren smiled. "Yes. Each time we approach near the matter of Nefertiti's death, something happens to distract us. Is Naram-Sin a distraction, or have we reached past the screen that conceals the hunter from the quarry at last?"

"You're intrigued. Father, you were right in the first place. Whoever killed the queen is more dangerous than any bandit or Hittite. This is not the time to be amused."

"Easy, Ky. Don't adopt my habit of becoming too grave. After facing Eater of Souls, I realized I'm much too serious, and such gravity gives no advantage. And you're right. I am beginning to appreciate our unknown enemy. He must have a complex nature and a ka of infinite sagacity to have remained hidden for so long and to have designed such a complicated method by which to direct his plots."

"Then you don't think we're near the truth yet?"

"I don't know."

Meren sat down again and poured wine for Kysen and himself. Handing his son a goblet, he lifted his own.

"I don't know the truth. At least not all of it. But I do know that I'm going to find the one at the center of this intrigue, and when I do, I think it will be someone who possesses within his ka more of the true nature of Eater of Souls than Reshep ever did."

"And yet you relish searching for this new demon," Kysen said.

Raising his goblet higher in a salute, Meren grinned. "I appreciate the complexity, the serpentine design, the intelligent heart. We've alarmed someone, Ky. I was beginning to think the murderer dead or out of Egypt. But he's here. And he's fighting us. We've disturbed the scorpion's nest, and he's about to strike. Soon there will be no more dueling with shadows. And that above all else pleases me. I prefer to face my real enemy, not lowly and servile pawns."

"Well, it's too late to do as I wanted and let the matter drop."

Meren laughed and picked up a bowl of dates. "If we do that, we'll get ourselves killed all the more quickly."

"Is this your new attitude, go into danger cheerfully?"

"Cheerful or not, the danger will come. Have you found Tcha?"

"Not yet. I think he may have fled the city for the moment. He'll come back once word spreads that Eater of Souls has been killed."

Meren leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs, and drew a long breath. "Ahhh. No wonder the air smells so fresh. Enjoy the sweet watery breath of the earth, Ky. When Tcha skulks back into Memphis, he'll bring a stench that would knock a vulture from atop a refuse heap."