Lauren Haney - Path of Shadows

Bak pressed his tunic against his chest, blotting a rivulet of sweat trickling down his breastbone. “He made no promise to take you along on a future expedition?”

“Well, no, but he did imply…” The lie faltered. “No, he made no promise.”

“Why, in the name of the lord Amon, did you travel to

Kaine, thinking he’d take you with him?”

Wensu visibly wilted beneath Bak’s incredulous gaze.

“When I told my father I wanted to become an explorer, he laughed at me.” The young man swallowed, his distress ap parent. “He’s a chief scribe, sir, a lofty and influential man who reports directly to the vizier. He wishes me to become a scribe as he is. He hopes some day that I’ll become a man of note, attaining a rank equal to or higher than his.” A bitter smile touched his lips. “He’d like to see me a vizier.”

“You came anyway,” Bak said, trying not to reveal the sympathy he felt. “You turned your back on your father’s wishes. You ignored Minnakht’s advice.”

“I couldn’t submit to a lifetime of boredom, Lieutenant!”

The response, meant to be defiant, came close to being a wail.

Bak ignored the young man’s anguish. “Wensu, you spoke earlier of the gold Minnakht found. Were you repeating something he told you or were you referring to a rumor you heard?”

“He told the women in the house of pleasure that he was looking for gold.”

“He mentioned no specific discovery?”

“Oh, no. He merely said that was his goal. To find gold or some other precious mineral or stone.” Wensu flashed a guileless smile. “When I arrived in Kaine and heard the ru mor, I assumed he’d found it.”

Wensu’s dream was no different than that of many other young men. Bak doubted, however, that one as selfish and ar rogant as he could ever learn to cope in an uninviting envi ronment like the one User had described. In fact, he could not imagine the young man sneaking away unseen from User’s campsite or creeping up to the stranger and taking his dagger without rousing him. He would have neither the patience nor the ability.

“Tomorrow, Wensu, you should turn around and return to

Kemet. It’s not too late. You can spend the night with us at the next well and go back in the morning. Within two days, you’ll be sitting in a house of pleasure in Kaine.” He did not wish to squash the young man’s pride, but he felt sure User would agree to sending one of his drovers with him to make sure he arrived safe and well. If not, he would send a Medjay.

“No.” A stubborn look descended upon Wensu’s face. “If I can discover a new source of gold or some other valuable metal or stone, I’ll attract the attention of our sovereign and my future will be assured. My father will have to accept me as I am, not as he wishes me to be.”

When Bak walked back along User’s string of donkeys,

Ani was nowhere to be found. Looking worried, the nomad bringing up the rear pointed in the direction from which they had come. There Bak spotted the craftsman, lagging far be hind the caravan.

Reassuring the drover with a nod, Bak left the softer sand trampled by the animals and, reaching firmer sand off to the side, hurried down the wadi. The caravan was slowly ap proaching the gap between the ridge to the north and the limestone mound that had lain off to their right since their trek began. The once broad, dry watercourse had begun to narrow, its walls to steepen.

Too intent to notice Bak’s approach, Ani walked slowly along the base of the northern wall, studying limestone rocks and boulders that had broken away from the hillside or the harder stones that had washed down from the distant moun tain range. He was carrying what looked like a white bag, bulging and heavy.

As Bak approached, the short, stout man picked up a small stone, examined it, and dropped it, scooped up another and studied it. A third stone brought a smile to his lips.

“What are you doing way back here?” The question was rhetorical; Bak could see what the jeweler was doing. “You shouldn’t have allowed the caravan to get so far ahead. What if something happened to you?”

Ani looked up, startled. Recognizing Bak, he greeted him with a beaming smile. “Ah, Lieutenant. I thank the gods you’ve come. Look what I’ve found.” He held out a pinkish stone for Bak to see.

“You mustn’t walk so close to the wadi wall. A viper could be hiding among the rocks.”

Paying no heed, Ani glanced around. His eyes came to rest on a flattish limestone boulder. Glistening white patches marked places where the weathered exterior had broken away when it had tumbled from above. He set what Bak had thought was a bag, actually a large, sweat-stained square of linen, on top of the boulder and spread the corners wide, re vealing dozens of rocks, none larger than a duck’s egg.

“If you have another square of linen… You do, don’t you?” Allowing Bak no time to answer, Ani bubbled on,

“You can carry these while I look for more.”

Bak gave him a stern look. “You can’t be serious.”

Ani blinked, taken aback. “I came into the desert to seek rare and beautiful stones for my workshop. Now you’re try ing to tell me I can’t take them with me?” He stiffened his spine, standing as tall as he could. “I can and I will.”

“Who’s going to carry them?”

“We’ve brought along plenty of donkeys.”

“Those donkeys are carrying water and supplies, Ani.”

The craftsman stood quite still, his face revealing one emotion after another: realization, dismay, and a reluctant acceptance. “Can I not collect a few?” he asked in a meek voice.

Bak eyed the bits of rock displayed on the linen. Most looked to his untrained eye like the granite User had showed him. “Are any of these stones exceptional?”

“They’re wonderful specimens, but…” Looking pained,

Ani shook his head. “Other than one or two, no.”

“If you’ll pick out those two, we can be on our way. We must catch up with the caravan.”

Faced with the inevitable, Ani wasted no time. With an ex pert eye, he searched through the rocks until he found three he deemed worthy of saving. Openly saddened by the sacri fice, he pulled the square of linen from beneath the rest and left them lying on the boulder. An offering to the lord Set, god of chaos and the desert.

Bak strode up the wadi at a good fast pace, grateful that

Ani had accepted reality so quickly. The much shorter man practically ran along beside him. They were a hundred or so paces behind the donkeys when Bak noticed Ani’s labored breathing and how red his face had become. He stopped, handed over his waterbag. “You should never stray far from the caravan, but lest you forget and wander away, you must always carry water with you.”

Smiling sheepishly, the jeweler drank, allowed the water to settle in his stomach, drank a second time. Bak reclaimed the bag, pulled free the dusty square of linen tucked beneath Ani’s belt, dropped the rocks into the jeweler’s hand, and trickled water on the fabric. “Wipe your face and neck.”

With a grateful smile, Ani obeyed, smearing dirt across his cheek. “I wasn’t thinking, Lieutenant. About the rocks, I mean. Minnakht assured me that there were many stones in the Eastern Desert that would enhance the jewelry I make.

He said nothing about the practicalities of transporting them.”

Bak took a drink of the tepid water. “When did you last speak with him?”

“I talked to him only the once. Eight months ago? Ten?

I’ve no concept of time.” Ani ran the damp cloth around the back of his neck. “He showed me a stone, an amazingly clear crystal. It came, he said, from this desert. It was lovely, per fection itself. He also showed me a chunk of turquoise a no mad had given him in trade. I told him I dreamed of traveling across the Eastern Sea to the mountain of turquoise, and he said that he, too, wished to see those mines.”