Lauren Haney - Path of Shadows

“None.”

“How many people were in the nomad camp?”

“It was a family group: one woman, the two girls who cared for the flock, a child learning to walk, and I found signs of a baby crawling on the ground.”

“No sign of a man?”

“I found no footprints of a man, sir, neither a husband nor an intruder.”

Bak smiled. Nebre had read his thoughts. The slain man could have forced himself on the woman and she in turn re paid him with death. “Unlikely slayers, that family, wouldn’t you say?”

“The odds are much against their guilt, sir.”

Bak looked down the wadi toward the well. He knew noth ing of the men traveling with User’s caravan. They all had pleaded innocence, but might not one among them be a mur derer? “I’ve asked Kaha to study the footprints in User’s camp to see if any match those he saw on the hillside yesterday and to search for signs of a nomad intruder. After he’s finished, you and he together must make a wide circuit of the well and the campsites. I want to know if any outsiders have come near.”

Bak parted from Nebre and hurried to the well, where

Senna and Rona were filling the goatskin waterbags. Upon learning that they had almost finished the task, he went on to the campsite where he and his men had spent the night. He found Psuro and Minmose dividing the last of the supplies among the donkeys. Assured that all was well with the pack ing, he told the sergeant of the tasks he had given to Nebre and Kaha.

“What’s the point of seeking tracks?” Psuro asked. “We must travel on.”

“Two thoughts have occurred to me. One is the possibility that this death is in some way related to Minnakht’s disap pearance. The second is of more immediate concern. If a slayer is lurking about who has no regard for right and order, for the lady Maat, we’d best learn the truth and take precau tions. Would you like to wake up some fine morning and find one of us slain in our sleep?”

Psuro dropped a bag of dates into a basket and gave him a long, speculative look. “You suspect one of the men traveling with User?”

“I think it a possibility.”

The sergeant knew Bak very well. “And you wish to snare the slayer.”

“Minnakht has been missing for two long months. What are the odds that he still lives?”

“I’d not wager a grain of sand that we’ll find anything other than a shallow grave, and probably not even that.”

“Now we’ve come upon a dead man. Do you not think we should include his slayer in our quest?”

“Where do you go from here, Lieutenant?” Amonmose hefted his goatskin waterbag, checking to be sure it was full.

He was not wearing his usual cheerful smile.

“We plan to travel northeast, following a series of wadis through the desert mountains. I suspect our route is similar to yours.”

Amonmose’s face lit up. “If that’s the case, why don’t you come with us? The bigger the caravan, the safer we’ll be.”

Bak liked the suggestion. To travel with User’s caravan would answer two of his needs. It would offer the safety of numbers and give him the chance to know better the men traveling with the explorer. “Do you fear an attack, Amon mose? Or are you afraid there’ll be another slaying?”

“In all the years I’ve crossed this desert, I’ve never known the nomads to be dangerous. True, the tribes fight each other, but the people themselves are generous and kind, especially to a stranger. I’ve traveled farther to the south, to be sure, but

I’m certain the nomads here are no different.” Amonmose laid down the waterbag and picked up another. “Something’s happened out here. I feel it in my bones.” He managed a thin smile. “No, it’s more than a feeling. In Kaine I learned that

Minnakht has vanished. A seasoned explorer he was, one who took no unnecessary risks, a man reputedly beloved of the nomads. Now we find a stranger murdered in our midst. I don’t like it, sir.”

“Are you about ready?” User asked, approaching Ani. The jeweler stood a half-dozen paces away, holding his rolled sleeping mat as if not quite sure what to do with it.

“User, listen to this,” Amonmose called out, overriding

Ani’s response. “Lieutenant Bak plans to travel a route much the same as ours. I’ve asked him to come with us.”

Looking annoyed, User urged Ani to hurry and hastened to join Bak and Amonmose. “The smaller the caravan, Amon mose, the faster we’ll travel and the easier it’ll be to find for age for our donkeys. Did I not tell you that yesterday when you asked to accompany us?”

“You did, yes. But considering the circumstances, don’t you think it to our advantage to join forces? Bak and his Medjays are well armed and trained to fight, while the rest of us are civilians. I can’t speak for Ani or Wensu or for Nebenkemet but I, for one, have no aptitude in the use of weapons.”

User planted his fists on his hips. “Considering what cir cumstances? The dead stranger? Bah! His death had nothing to do with us.”

Amonmose’s mouth tightened, betraying the determina tion that had led him to build a fishing fleet in an unlikely and formidable location. “Lest you’ve forgotten, User, no one has seen Minnakht for at least two months, which probably means he’s dead and buried.” User opened his mouth to rebut but the big man plowed on. “A merchant in Kaine told me an other young explorer has also disappeared in this desert.”

Another disappearance? Bak’s interest sharpened.

“About ten months ago, that was,” Amonmose went on.

“He, too, must be dead, his body hidden where no one can find it. I’d not be surprised to learn that the first disappear ance led to the second and the second to this stranger’s mur der. Do you want one of us to be the fourth victim?”

Bowled over by the torrent of words, User could think of no retort. He had to know that he had no control over Bak and his Medjays. He might not wish them to join his caravan, but if they chose to walk a few paces ahead or behind and to camp close by, he could do nothing but fume.

“Our donkeys won’t be loaded for at least a half hour.

You’ll be ready to leave by then, Lieutenant?”

Bak stood with Senna and Psuro, watching the solitary donkey and drover plod south down the main wadi, taking the body of the unknown man to Kaine. It would be a long, hot trek for man and beast, but the rations token Bak had sup plied, assuring a generous reward upon presentation to the nearest garrison quartermaster, should partly make up for so unpleasant a trek.

“Will we be joining User’s caravan, sir?” Senna asked.

Offering a silent prayer that drover and donkey would have a safe journey, Bak turned to the guide. “What do you recommend, Senna?”

“We’d make better time without them. And…”

“And what?” Psuro asked impatiently.

Senna looked uncertainly at Bak. “Well, sir…” Again he hesitated, but a sharp look from the sergeant drove him on.

“We’d have two guides and two masters, not a good idea at the best of times and especially not here in this harsh and desolate land.”

“User and I would have to come to an understanding.” Bak watched Psuro kick sand over the blackened remains of the fire, leaving no sign of their presence but the soft and uneven surface. “Tell me what you know of Dedu.”

“I can’t vouch for his honesty.” Senna looked toward the well, where the guide in question was lifting a water jar onto a donkey. “He’s from a tribe that ranges the land south of here and along the edge of the Eastern Sea. I’ve heard that in years past he served often as a guide, usually traveling with

User but sometimes leading caravans across the southern route between Waset and the sea. He’s since become a man of substance, with a family and flocks, and seldom strays away from his tribal territory.”