Lauren Haney: A Vile Justice

"Nor will you reach your goal," he said, taunting her. "Your father still lives." Maybe.

She blinked, taken aback, but not for long. "I gave him twice the amount of poison needed to slay a man. He'll not survive the day."

He took a short and careful step forward. She thrust the flame toward him, forcing him back.

"What did he do to make you hate him so?" he asked. "Why slay all the others as well?"

"Oh, come now, Lieutenant! You spent all morning questioning Amethu and Simut. Don't try to convince me you don't know Nebmose was my beloved, my betrothed. The one man who touched me as no other will."

The torch, as long as Khawet's arm, could not be easy to hold, thrust out the way it was. She was a strong womanher use of the sling had proven that-but how long could she continue to grasp the thing at such an ungainly angle?

"I know of your feelings for him, yes, and I know he was one of the many who failed to return from that deadly sandstorm five years ago."

"Do you also know that some men survived at the expense of others? They found a safe haven and turned away all who wished to share their good fortune."

"I heard a tale, yes." Bak spoke with care, refusing to admit a man still lived who had sheltered in that haven. Khawet had followed her pattern slavishly-until today. He had no wish to sacrifice User should she somehow manage to escape and go after the one man she had missed in her reign of vengeance.

"They turned Nebmose away," she said bitterly, "forcing him to go on in the face of the storm."

Bak stepped forward once more. As before, she thrust the torch toward him, forcing him back. If she had been holding him at bay with any ordinary weapon, a spear, for example, he would have grabbed it and twisted it from her hand, but not this fiery standard.

"How do you know this?" he demanded. "Did Sergeant Senmut tell Sergeant Min, who confided in mistress Hatnofer?"

She bowed her head, acknowledging the guess. "Senmut was born a braggart, and Min could keep nothing from Hatnofer."

"Your father found shelter somewhere else," he pointed out, "not with Senmut and the others."

"He and Min did, yes. And they found a donkey laden with food and water." She paused, added with a sneer, "Enough to sustain three men with ease."

"Nebmose came upon them," Bak guessed, "and did they also turn him away?"

"The shelter they'd found was- small, an overhanging boulder with a ridge of sand in front, forming an alcove. Min refused to put the donkey out, refused to make space for Nebmose. According to Hatnofer, he laughed, saying a dumb beast was of more value than a lieutenant. They fought. Min, much the stronger of the two, felled Nebmose and.. " Her voice wavered. "And my father thrust a knife in his back."

Bak was not surprised by the gravity of Djehuty's offense, only by its pointlessness. A man afraid to die, slaying one who was already down. And him a nobleman. No wonder the governor had refused to divulge his secret. The tale showed him up for what he was: a coward and a murderer, unworthy to sit in a seat of power. One who should have been taken before the vizier and been made to account for his crime. Or crimes.

No wonder he had closed Nebmose's house to all but temporary guests. No wonder he had ordered Ineni to move the horses to the estate in Nubt. Both dwelling and animals must have mocked him, reminding hire always of his weak and despicable behavior. The house, he had made into a lifeless shell. The horses, long out of sight and deliberately forgotten, he had ordered traded away when Bak began asking questions.

"Min vanished from Abu five years ago," he said. "Hatnofer surely knew all along what he and your father did. Why did you wait until now to seek retribution?"

"She'd vowed not to say a word, and she didn't. Even when Min failed to summon her to his new post, breaking her heart, she kept her word." A humorless smile touched her lips. "Until one day, about two months ago." The smile grew to a soft, cynical laugh. "That's. when she and my father quarreled. He burst out with the truth, taunting her, admitting he and Min had argued and the sergeant had fallen into the water gauge, where he cracked his head open and died"

"What really happened? Did Min demand a reward for his silence, and Djehuty could see no end to the levy?" "So Hatnofer believed." Khawet raised the heavy torch, bending her arm at the elbow for relief. "She was convinced he slew Min to get him out of the way for good, and she was too angry to remain silent. So she came to me with the tale. I could've slain my father then and there-I wanted to-but I wanted more to make him suffer. So I thought of a way, the patterns you were so quick to see."

Bak noted the sign of weariness. He took a quick step forward, forcing her again to thrust out the torch. As she expected him to, he backed off, but less than half the distance he had shifted forward. "What if Djehuty had failed to see your purpose?"

"My father's not a stupid man, Lieutenant. He saw." She sneered. "He pretended he didn't, but he did."

"Why slay Hatnofer?" He inched forward, stopped. "Was she not your ally?"

"Was I to place myself in her hands as my father had put himself in Min's?" Her laugh was sharp, hard. "No. Nor did I initially intend to slay her. She'd served my family well, and I was rather fond of her. But she guessed what I was up to, and she had to die. Fortunately, the timing was good and her death fitted into the pattern."

He took a slow, careful step forward "If you hadn't slain her, who would've died in her place? Lieutenant Amonhotep?"

"He did no wrong." She spoke as if she could hardly credit Bak with so ridiculous a question. "He, too, would've been turned away to die in the storm if he'd followed Nebmose's path." She formed a cruel smile. "No. I planned to slay my father next."

Bak gave her a surprised look. "You would've taken his life the day I arrived?"

"Why not? You were new to Abu, a frontier policeman. A man praised by the vizier for stumbling upon a smuggling operation. One of limited imagination and skill." She gave an ironic laugh. "Or so I thought."

"That's why you left those unwanted gifts on my doorstep?"

"By then, you'd spotted the patterns to the slayings and I no longer underestimated you." A smile flitted across her face. "I wasn't sure I could frighten you off, but I thought it worth a try. And I wished also to tease you."

He thought her arm trembled, but so slightly he could not be sure. He took another slow step forward. "You must've been disappointed when we moved to Swenet. Or had you delivered all your messages?"

"I thought one more after my father's death, his baton of office perhaps." Her voice turned cool, no longer playful. "Now you've forced my hand a day early, making me act out of necessity, not according to plan."

"With us so close behind, why did you take the time to come here?"

"I wanted to make one last offering to Sarenput, to seek his aid should I live or die."

"Why take so, great a risk? I see by the inscriptions that he's not the ancestor your father so greatly values, that he lived a generation or so later."

"During the reign of Nubkaure Amonemhet," she said with a nod. "This man and his wife were Nebmose's ancestors as well as mine. My betrothed and I were of the same blood, you see, destined to be together through eternity."

Bak realized she did not care if she lived or died. If she could get away free and clear, she would do so, but death was equally acceptable. "You surely don't expect to join your beloved in the Field of Reeds after all you've done to tilt the scales of justice."

Her eyes flashed anger. "I've punished where punishment was due, Lieutenant, balancing the scales, not tilting them." Seeing her distracted, he leaped forward, swinging his shield, thrusting aside the torch. Her hand struck the pillar to her right, the fiery staff sent sparks racing up the painted figure of Sarenput. Fire licked the cowhide shield, singeing the hair, giving off an odor sharper than the incense. Bak lunged at her, going in low, thinking to shove her into the niche at the back of the chamber, where she would have no space to move. As agile as a cat, she freed the torch, ducked away from the niche, and slipped behind the nearest column.