Lauren Haney - Path of Shadows

Looking at the man’s sandals, Bak wondered if he could be the one who had left the footprint Kaha had found on the hillside overlooking the wadi. “Did he plan to travel on with your caravan?”

“I told him he must. No man should go off by himself into this wilderness.”

Bak glanced at the nomad drover, who was slowly backing away, as anxious to leave as the donkey was. “He came with a single animal?” he asked User.

“Like you and your men, he traveled light.”

“Did any of the men with you know him?”

“They all greeted him as a stranger.” User ran his hand back and forth over the sand, wiping away the feel of death, and stood up. “A nomad must’ve slain him. To rob him, I’d wager.”

“You don’t trust your guide? Your drovers?” Amazed, Bak also rose to his feet. How could any man travel in so risky a place with men on whom he felt he could not rely. The thought brought a cynical smile to his lips. He had allowed himself to be led into the desert by Senna, a man he was not sure he could trust.

“I’ve known Dedu for many years. He wouldn’t slay any man, nor would the drovers he brought with him. They’re his kin.” User’s smile was grim. “A nomad family camped sev eral hundred paces up the secondary wadi. A couple of young girls brought their goats to the well shortly before dusk, and I glimpsed at least one woman up there.”

“You noticed no men?”

“I didn’t. That doesn’t mean they had none with them.”

“His name is nowhere to be found.” Bak replaced the con tents of the baskets, mostly foodstuffs, a few dried herbs that could be used for medicines, and a few personal items such as a razor and comb. The bare essentials needed for a journey.

“I suggest we bury him here and now.” User swatted at a fly that had strayed from the body. “Many a man has van ished with his family none the wiser. An unfortunate occur rence, but what else can we do?”

“We’re a few hours’ walk from Kaine. I suggest you wrap him up as best you can and have one of your drovers take him back. Someone there may know who he is.”

“Yes,” User nodded. “Let someone else worry about him.”

Bak eyed the men standing at the edge of the hollow. Ani and Wensu were staring at the body as if never before had they been so close to death. Ani looked appalled by what he saw; Wensu’s face registered distaste. Amonmose appeared saddened by the death, yet curious. Nebenkemet looked on with the composure of a man inured to all life had to offer.

Senna seemed mildly troubled, while Dedu and the drovers looked as if they wanted nothing more than to turn their backs and go on their way. Except for Psuro, who stood slightly apart from the other men, the Medjays had come and gone.

“Are you certain you never saw this man before yester day?” Bak asked, not for the first time.

As a single unit, they chorused a denial.

“You surely don’t believe one of us slew him,” Ani said.

“Who are you to question us?” Wensu sneered. “You’re a soldier, not a police officer.”

Bak was not yet ready to divulge to these men that he and his Medjays were policemen.

“He never once revealed his name.” Amonmose shook his head as if mystified that any man could die unknown. “Sit ting around our fire last night, we talked about him, made guesses as to who he might be and what he was doing out here alone. That’s one reason I came to him, tried to strike up a conversation. I felt sorry for him, thought he could use some companionship.”

“I’d wager a donkey and foal that a nomad took his life,”

User said. “One of those people camped up the wadi could easily have slipped past us in the dark and crept upon him to rob him.”

“Rob him of what?” Bak asked. “The golden amulet he still wears?”

“As none of us know what he brought with him,” Ani said,

“how can we know what might’ve been stolen?”

“If you’re so determined to play policeman, Lieutenant, I suggest you question those nomads.” Wensu slapped his leg with his fly whisk, a habit Bak was beginning to find exceed ingly irritating. “If they didn’t slay him, they’ll certainly know who did. Another nomad who crept out of the desert in search of wealth.”

A convenient theory, Bak thought. One highly question able if this man’s death was somehow tied to the disappear ance of Minnakht. He had no reason to think it was, but experience had taught him not to trust coincidences. This death occurring here and now when a half-dozen other men had set out on the same trail Minnakht had taken looked sus piciously like a coincidence.

“The footprint I saw yesterday was not made by these san dals.” Kaha, kneeling at the dead man’s feet, ran his finger around the edge of a sole. “These are almost new and show no sign of wear. The print on the hillside was made by a san dal well worn, its sole beginning to curl to fit the foot of the man wearing it, and the outside edge had a slight cut near the small toe.”

Bak studied the lifeless face, wondering exactly who this man was and why he had come into the desert alone. If he had not left the print, who had? Another man traveling alone?

“You must go to User’s camp, Kaha, and study the footprints left by the men who spent the night at this well.”

Nodding his understanding, the Medjay rose to his feet.

“You wish to know if any of them made the print on the hill side, or if someone else was watching from afar.”

“That, yes, and I also wish to learn if any nomad left the vicinity of the well to snoop around User’s camp or the place where this man was slain.”

“I doubt a nomad slew him, sir.”

Inclined to agree, Bak looked thoughtfully at User’s camp, which was in a state of disarray. About half the donkeys were loaded, while the rest awaited water jars and supplies with the enduring patience of most beasts of burden. The explorer was arguing with his nomad guide and the drovers. The other men were standing around in idle expectation that they would soon be on their way.

“We’ve come upon two groups of men recently merged to form a single unit,” he said, “their intent to cross the desert on a route never before used by any man other than a few no mads and Minnakht. As if that doesn’t tickle the imagination sufficiently, we also have two men who chose to travel alone through this wilderness, one who’s disappeared and the other who’s dead. That doesn’t merely tickle, Kaha. It causes an itch that must be scratched.”

Grinning, the Medjay walked off to do as he was bidden, passing along the way User, a drover, and a donkey. From the resentful expression on the nomad’s face, Bak guessed he was the one selected to take the body back to Kaine. Beyond the trio, Dedu had begun to issue orders, setting his kinsmen to their tasks.

A distant movement drew Bak’s glance up the secondary wadi. He spotted Nebre’s tall, slim figure, returning from the nomad camp at a good fast pace. As soon as User and the no mad spread out a sheet in which to roll the body, he hurried eastward to meet the Medjay, preferring to speak with him alone than to air his suspicions to all the world.

“The nomads are gone, sir.”

“So early in the day?”

Nebre wiped a thin film of sweat from his face. “Nothing remained but a few footprints and the marks of a crude shel ter. The fire was cold. I’d guess they moved out long before dawn.”

“They left in a hurry.”

“So it would seem.”

With Nebre beside him, Bak walked slowly toward the well, mulling over the news. Would the nomads have left in such haste if they had nothing to hide? “User said two young girls took their goats to the well. Other than their tracks, did you see any others along the way?”