Lauren Haney - Path of Shadows

If Dedu was capable enough to toil for the caravan masters entrusted to transport copper and turquoise, he could be de pended upon to lead a small caravan through a less-traveled portion of the Eastern Desert.

“What do you know of User?” Bak asked.

“I’ve heard he’s a hard man, one who doesn’t hesitate to use the whip on men who fail to obey him. They say his hon esty comes and goes, depending upon his needs. He doesn’t trust most nomads, nor do they trust him.”

Bak’s donkeys were fully loaded and ready to travel when

Nebre and Kaha returned to the camp. He told Senna, Min 54

Lauren Haney mose, and Rona to go on ahead with the animals, leading them up the secondary wadi. Whether or not they joined

User’s caravan, he wanted himself and his men at the head of the procession.

When they were well on their way, Bak asked the two

Medjays, “What did you find?”

“I found no sign of the watching man in User’s camp,”

Kaha said. “Not a man among them brought sandals that leave the print I found on the hillside. Nor did I find any re cent sign of nomads other than at the well.”

“What of your search farther afield?” Psuro asked.

“We circled far out around the well and the three camp sites. You must’ve seen us from time to time.” Nebre paused, awaiting Bak’s nod. “We found no tracks of anyone entering or leaving the circle who didn’t belong here.”

Bak eyed the row of tamarisks that rounded the bend to the north. “Those trees are thin, but at night a man could’ve come from upstream unseen.”

Kaha leaned his shield against his leg, freeing a hand so he could adjust the waistband of his kilt. “We took special care when looking for prints in that direction, sir. We found none.”

“We came upon one other likely place,” Nebre said. “A place where rocks have tumbled down and broken apart, forming coarse gravel on the bottom of a wash. A man could walk down the wash, leaving no trace of himself, but we found no sign of disturbance where the gravel tails off into the sand.”

“In other words…” Bak looked from one man to the other, seeking their conclusion.

“We might’ve missed some sign, sir,” Nebre said, “but if not, someone in User’s party must have slain the stranger.”

Crossing his arms in front of his breast, Bak stared up the wadi toward the well and the men and animals preparing to set out. He did not have to think for long. Two men had gone missing and another was dead. One coincidence had troubled him; two he found to be incredible. And here he stood, with an invitation-reluctant though it might be-to join the men most likely to have slain the unnamed man. How could he not accept?

“We’ll travel with the other caravan. It’s better to keep an eye on people you don’t trust than to allow them to go their own way, giving them a chance to do further mischief.”

Bak stood off to the side of a rough track left on the wadi floor by what had to be hundreds of goats or sheep, mostly the former since they could survive the heat and harsh graz ing easier than could the latter. He had tried to find signs of the nomad family after passing the place where they had been camped, but the sand had been so stirred up by the many sharp hooves that nothing remained but soft grainy un dulations. The few clear tracks he found, those of animals that had wandered away from the path, could have been left in the early hours of the morning-or they could have been made a year or more ago. He suspected they and the mingled tracks on the path had been left by all who had come this way since the last water had flowed down from the mountains.

Two years ago, so Senna said.

Nebre and Kaha had found footprints around dead bushes and a dying acacia where children had gathered wood, but they did not match those of the girls who had watered their goats at the well. He did not suspect their mother of slaying the dead man, but he had an idea that she or her children might know something of his death. Why else would they flee in the dead of night?

Resigned to the fact that they had evaded him, he sent Ne bre and Kaha to scout out the surrounding landscape. He re mained where he was, standing beneath the burning sun, waiting for the caravan to catch up. As he raised his waterbag to drink, sweat slid down his spine beneath his tunic, tickling him. The day promised to be as hot as any he had ever en dured at Buhen.

Senna was the first man to draw near. He walked at the head of the caravan, probing the sand with his long staff.

With luck, any lurking vipers would reveal themselves and slither away. A half-dozen paces back, Rona and Minmose led their string of seven donkeys.

“Are we making good time?” Bak asked the guide.

Senna ventured a wry smile. “User can make no complaint that we’re slowing his caravan.”

“Excellent. We’re not pushing too hard, are we?”

“Like you, sir, I wish to reach the Eastern Sea with every man and animal safe and well.”

Bak clapped the guide on the shoulder and walked back to

Minmose and Rona. After assuring himself that all was well with them and the laden donkeys plodding along in their wake, he let them walk on ahead. The outliers of the lime stone mound to the south were closing in, narrowing the view. He took a final look at the high escarpment that van ished in a bluish haze far to the southwest, following the course of the river that gave life to the land of Kemet. He bade a silent goodbye to the land he could no longer see, tamped down a touch of homesickness, and turned his thoughts to his quest for Minnakht.

About thirty paces behind the last animal, he fell in beside

User, walking with Dedu at the head of his string of donkeys.

The nomad murmured an excuse and slipped away.

“What are you doing out here, Lieutenant?” User asked.

“Crossing the Eastern Desert, as you are.”

“Don’t give me that!” the explorer scoffed. “You and your men are like birds with broken wings, creatures out of your element. You know nothing of this land except what you’ve been told. Worse yet, you’ve placed yourselves in the hands of a man you don’t know, one whose integrity may not be all it should be.”

Bak resented being thought an innocent, but kept his tone level, untroubled. “You underestimate us, User. My men and

I know exactly what we face. A cruel and waterless land scape, where the slightest accident can disable a man to a point where he can die. Where an unseen viper can leap out of the sand and doom a man to a most painful death. Where a much needed spring or well that men have depended on for years may turn up dry. Where…”

The explorer raised a hand to silence him. “I don’t ques tion your knowledge, Lieutenant. You look to be a man who absorbs information like a drunkard soaks up beer. What I question is your lack of experience and your judgment.”

This time, Bak let his irritation show. “We’ve entered this desert, thinking to find Minnakht. And make no mistake: we will find him alive or dead.”

An incredulous laugh burst from User’s lips. “How were you drawn into that?”

“Commander Inebny, Minnakht’s father, knows my com mandant.” Bak’s eyes flashed anger. He could find no humor in the task. “I was sent out to find the missing man and here we are.”

“You’re obeying an order,” User said, surprising him with a sympathetic look. “That accounts for your presence, but it doesn’t explain your willingness to trust Senna.”

“Let’s just say that Minnakht’s father left him with far less choice than my commandant left me.” Bak eyed the explorer, measuring him. “What of you? What are you doing out here?”

Recognizing his own question thrown back at him, User smiled. “When Minnakht failed to return to Kaine, rumors be gan to fly, hinting that he’d found something of worth. Gold, they were saying, but they could’ve meant anything of value.