Lauren Haney - The Right Hand of Amon

"Mistress Aset, your father claims you were in your bed the night Lieutenant Puemre was slain." Bak raised his hand, cutting off a response, and guessed, "You weren't, I know, nor were you even in this building."

"Who told you that? One of the servants?" She raised her chin in defiance, belying the tremor in her voice. "It's a lie. I was here through all the night, as was my father."

Kenamon gave her a somber look and seemed about to speak but, like Bak, he heard the quick footsteps on the stone pavement outside. Whatever he meant to say, he reserved for later.

Bak, watching Aset, saw out of the corner of his eye a grim-faced Nebseny veering around three scribes standing in the middle of the court, arguing about the meaning of an obscure glyph. The temptation to trample on the young officer's feelings was too great to resist.

"I suppose Lieutenant Nebseny slept here that night as well," he sneered. "Did he share your bed, I wonder? Or did Puemre come back to keep you company?"

Nebseny burst through the door, grabbed Bak's shoulder, and swung him around. "You swine!" He drew back his fist, murder in his eyes, and swung.

Bak, only a little surprised by so foolhardy a reaction, blocked the fist with an arm. Moving with a speed born of many long hours of practice, he grabbed Nebseny's wrist, jerked him off-balance, and twisted him around, shoving his hand high between his shoulder blades, forcing a moan from his lips.

Kenamon sucked in his breath, shaken by the sudden violence. Woser slid to the edge of his chair, poised to aid his young friend. The scribes in the courtyard, chattering like jays, scurried across the pavement to peer through the door. The guard stood paralyzed and confused, not quite sure who was in charge.

"Don't hurt him!" Aset cried. "Please!"

Bak recalled the way she had hovered over Nebseny when he and the archer had crashed into each other several days earlier. He was fairly sure that if he hurt the young man badly enough, she would tell the truth. But that was not his way. He pushed the hand higher, eliciting another moan, and shoved Nebseny hard. The archer stumbled across the room and fell to his knees at Woser's feet.

Bak noticed the scribes at the door and the guard. "Leave us. There's nothing here to see."

"Go back to your duties," Woser said, standing, giving them a strained smile. "This is a misunderstanding, nothing more."

The scribes drifted away, whispering among themselves. The guard relaxed, choosing to take his commander's words at face value. Bak stood grim and silent, waiting until they could no longer be overheard.

"You've been lying from the outset," he said at last, his eyes darting from one stunned face to another. "Not just to me, but to each other. Now I demand the truth."

"I beg you to speak up," Kenamon said. "If you don't soon talk with honesty and candor, I fear for all of Wawat and the land of Kemet itself."

Woser, his face clouding with worry and puzzlement, dropped into his chair and eyed the old priest. Nebseny, scrambling to his feet, glanced at Bak, his commander, and Aset, confusion vying with the anger and shame of his precipitous defeat.

"We were all three here in this house," Aset said, the challenge clear in her voice. "You can't prove otherwise." Bak wanted to shake her good and hard. She was forcing his hand, making him go further than he had meant to go. "Commander Woser, Lieutenant Nebseny, I'm charging you both with the murder of Lieutenant Puemre, with the intent to commit treason against the royal house." He kept his voice hard and cold, grating almost. "Mistress Aset, you'll stand with them before the viceroy, charged with assisting them in their crimes."

Nebseny snorted. "You must be mad."

"Don't scoff, young man," Kenamon said quietly. "We know Puemre had knowledge of a plot which could wrongly be laid at the door of the royal house-and cause all manner of mischief in this barren land of Wawat."

"The charge is a sham." Woser glared at Bak. "You're so fearful of Puemre's father, so desperate to lay hands on his slayer, that you're striking out in all directions."

The old priest shook his head sadly. "My heart bleeds for you, Commander. You'd willingly give your life for your daughter, yet you blind yourself to the truth."

"How can I know what's in fact the truth? This so-called policeman has given me no specifics."

"Have you earned my confidence?" Bak demanded. "You failed to report Puemre's death, and you've blocked my path to his slayer from the instant I stepped through the gate of this city." He took a turn across the room, swung around, strode back to stand in front of the commander, towering over him. "I'd like to think you're merely protecting your daughter, a foolish young thing who always gets her way by bending your affections to her will, a silly child who would lie to the lady Maat herself to protect both you and her betrothed." He swung toward Aset and snapped, "Can you deny my charge, Mistress?"

She flung her head high, refusing to answer. Nebseny eyed her, a flush spreading across his face, as if for the first time he realized she might actually care for him. Woser squirmed in his chair, ashamed of so great a weakness in his own heart and household.

"The penalty for treason is death, Commander." Bak made his voice ominous, and at the same time prayed Woser would not call his bluff.

"I've not betrayed my gods or my land, and I see no way you can prove I have." Woser closed his eyes and spoke with resignation. "But to be charged with so heinous an offense would ruin what's left of my life, and that of my daughter and the man as close to me as a son. I'll tell you what you wish to know."

"Father!"

Woser silenced the girl with a wave of his hand. "As you've guessed, Lieutenant, on the night Puemre was slain, I left this residence soon after my officers departed. I went to a woman I know in the lower city, one who'll tell you I stayed with*er through the night. Her servants know of my coming and going. They, too, will vouch for me. As will the watchman assigned to that sector of the city."

Aset stared openmouthed. If Bak had not expended so much effort in getting Woser to talk, he would have laughed, but he smothered the urge, fearing he would risk his hard-won advantage.

Woser gave the girl a wry smile. "Even I must have a life of my own, my daughter."

She managed a limp smile. "Oh, Father, I was so afraid! I knew you didn't sleep in your bed that night, and I thought…" She lowered her eyes, flushed. "I thought you'd heard those awful rumors about.. " Her voice tailed off, she swallowed hard.

His expression turned grave. "When I came through the southern gate at dawn, I saw you hurrying through the streets, with no other woman to see you home safe and well." His voice roughened, betraying his unwillingness to ask a question whose answer he feared. "Where had you been?"

"I went to the barracks, looking for Nebseny." It was Nebseny's turn to gape.

"I waited for more than an hour, talking with the men on watch." She shot the young officer a guilty look. "I'd heard you argued again with Puemre and came close to blows. I learned later he accused you of backing away from a skirmish when his men needed help, but at the time I thought… Well, you surely can guess what I thought. That's why, in the end, I made them promise not to tell you I was there."

Nebseny gave her a bitter smile. "You thought me so low I'd creep up behind him to take his life instead of facing him like a man."

"I didn't!" she cried. "I only knew you weren't where you were supposed to be: in the barracks, asleep."

"I was on the fortress wall, pacing back and forth the length of the city. I'd heard those rumors flying through the barracks. I was trying to build the courage to tell your father I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with soiled linen."